Rabbi Mendy's Blog - Chabad Chai

Why Sacrifice Feels So Hard, Until You Hear This

Friday, March 20, 2026 - 4:41 PM

Sacrifice. It’s easy to say, much harder to do. We all admire it, we speak about it, we know it’s necessary and even noble. But when it’s actually demanded of us, when it costs us time, comfort, ego, or certainty, we hesitate. We shrink. We resist. Why is it that something we value so deeply becomes so difficult the moment it becomes real?

The answer lies in this week’s Torah portion, Vayikra, which begins with a simple but powerful phrase: “And He called.” Before there is sacrifice, before there is action, before anything is given; there is a call. G-d calls to Moshe. And embedded in that moment is a profound truth: sacrifice is not meant to be forced; it is meant to be a response. When a person feels called, when they recognize that their life has a purpose and a mission, sacrifice stops feeling like loss and starts feeling like alignment.

So often, the reason we struggle to sacrifice is not because we are weak, but because we are disconnected. If I’m not sure why I’m doing something, if I don’t feel that inner pull, then every demand feels like an intrusion. But when you hear the call, when you know this is what you are here to do, something shifts. The same act that once felt heavy now feels meaningful. The same effort that once drained you now energizes you. Because it’s no longer just sacrifice, it’s purpose in motion.

Moshe didn’t walk into leadership by accident. He responded to a call. And every one of us, in our own way, is being called as well. To lead, to give, to grow, to show up for our families, our community, our people. The question isn’t whether the call exists. The question is whether we are listening. Because when we truly listen, we don’t just find the strength to sacrifice, we find the desire to.

So here’s the challenge this week: take a moment to pause and ask yourself, what is G-d calling me to do right now? Where in my life am I being asked to step up, to give a little more, to be a little better? And instead of resisting it, try leaning in. Because when you answer the call, you won’t just find what you’re willing to sacrifice, you’ll discover who you’re capable of becoming. This is how we all rise to become the best version of ourselves and fulfill our destiny of making our world a home for the divine.

Forget Them, But Learn This

Friday, March 13, 2026 - 3:00 PM

A lot has been said about the Jewish people lately. While much of it is ludicrous, it still presents an opportunity for reflection. Our tradition has never been afraid of introspection. In fact, one of the keys to Jewish resilience and success through the ages has been our willingness to look inward and ask how we can become better. But that raises a deeper question: how do you actually change? How do you break free from your past and become something greater when your past mistakes feel like they define who you are?

The answer lies in this week’s double Torah portion, Vayakhel–Pekudei. Just weeks after the revelation at Sinai, they fell into the tragic mistake of the Golden Calf. Yet what is remarkable is not only the failure, but what came next. G-d did not abandon the people or define them by that moment. Instead, He gathered them together and gave them a new mission: to build the Mishkan, the traveling sanctuary that would become a home for the Divine presence among them.

What’s fascinating is that the Torah describes the building of the Mishkan using language strikingly similar to the description of creation in the beginning of Bereishit. The message is powerful: human beings are not defined by their mistakes, but by what they create. Just as G-d created the world, we too are empowered to build, to shape, and to transform reality. The Mishkan was not only a structure of gold, silver, and wood; it was a rehabilitation of a nation. By giving the people the opportunity to create something holy, G-d elevated them to become the best version of themselves.

This message becomes even more powerful as we read Parshat HaChodesh and bless the new month of Nissan, the month of redemption. The Exodus from Egypt reminds us that renewal is always possible. Just as the Jewish people emerged from the narrow confines of Egypt into freedom, we too are given the chance to move beyond the limitations of our past and step into a future filled with purpose and possibility.

As we enter this new month, let’s embrace that same divine empowerment. None of us should be defined by our lowest moments, but by what we build afterward. Each mitzvah, each act of kindness, each moment of connection with another person is another brick in the Mishkan we are building in our world. Let’s seize that opportunity together to better ourselves and create light, spread goodness, and transform our community and our world.

The Secret of Chabad and the Second Tablets

Friday, March 6, 2026 - 12:02 PM

Yes, I've heard the conversation about Chabad. And no — to clarify — I haven't dug any tunnels. But in all seriousness, people sometimes ask: What's the secret to Chabad's success? Is it clever marketing? Political connections? Some mysterious strategy? Maybe space lasers?

The answer lies in this week's Torah portion Ki Sisa. To understand the secret, you have to go back thousands of years to the story of the second tablets. The first tablets were extraordinary. They were carved by G-d Himself and given to the Jewish people at the height of spiritual revelation. But then came the sin of the Golden Calf. Moshe shattered the tablets, and everything seemed lost. Yet something remarkable happened next. The Jewish people didn't walk away; they repented. They cried, they returned, and they wanted to reconnect with G-d. And so G-d gave them a second set of tablets, this time carved by Moshe himself.

At first glance, it seems strange. How could the second tablets possibly be greater than the first? The first were made by G-d! But the second tablets carried something deeper: the power of return. They represented a relationship rebuilt through effort, humility, and love. When people fall and then sincerely reconnect, that bond can become even stronger than before.

This is the quiet secret behind Chabad's work around the world. Chabad shluchim move across the globe not because Jews are perfect, but because every Jew is precious. The mission is not judgment; it is connection. Not pressure, but possibility. Every person, no matter their background, their questions, or their journey, is a soul created in G-d's image, capable of reconnecting to the light of Torah and mitzvot. When people feel that love and acceptance, something powerful happens: they rediscover their own spark.

That is the lesson of the second tablets, and it is the mission of our generation. Each of us can illuminate the world a little more, through a mitzvah, through Torah learning, through an act of goodness or kindness. When we help another person reconnect to their soul and to their Creator, we are continuing the story that began with those second tablets. So let's embrace that holy work together, spreading light, strengthening Jewish life, and bringing our world one step closer to the peace and harmony we all long to see.