Rabbi Mendy's Blog - Chabad Chai

When Jew-Haters Speak, It's the Biggest Blessing

Friday, June 26, 2026 - 4:18 PM

There is something unsettling about the times we are living in. Around the world, and even here in America, Jew-hatred is becoming louder and more brazen. We find ourselves asking a question Jews have asked for thousands of years: How are we still here? How has a tiny nation survived exile, persecution, expulsions, inquisitions, pogroms, the Holocaust, and now yet another wave of hatred? How do certain performers continue to operate while espousing such reprehensible beliefs?

The answer, as always, lies in this week's double Torah portion, Chukas-Balak. King Balak hired the greatest prophet of the nations, Balaam, to curse the Jewish people. Yet every attempt failed. Frustrated, Balaam exclaimed, "How shall I curse whom G-d has not cursed? How can I invoke wrath when G-d is not angry?" He recognized that the Jewish people possessed something no curse could penetrate: their secret strength. "From their beginning, I see them as mountain peaks, and I behold them as hills; it is a nation that will dwell alone and not reckon itself among the nations." Our Sages explain that the "mountain peaks" refer to our Patriarchs, and the "hills" to our Matriarchs.

Balaam understood something that even many Jews forget. Our strength has never come from our military, our wealth, our influence, or our numbers. It comes from our foundation. A building can only stand as long as its foundation remains strong. Our foundation is Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah. It is the values they passed on: faith in Hashem, kindness, courage, family, Torah, and an unwavering sense of purpose. Every generation that reconnects to that foundation becomes impossible to uproot.

History has proven Balaam's words to be true. The greatest empires have disappeared. Nations that once sought our destruction are now chapters in history books. Yet the Jewish people continue to thrive. Those who hate us often assume our survival is a mystery. Balaam saw that it wasn't a mystery at all. It was a promise. As long as we remain connected to the mountains and hills from which we came, no curse, no hatred, and no enemy can define our future.

This week, instead of allowing the headlines to fill us with fear, let them remind us of where our strength truly comes from. Open a Jewish book. Put on tefillin. Light a Shabbat candle. Tell your children the stories of our Patriarchs and Matriarchs, your Bubbies and Zaidys, Sabas and Savtas. Remember that every mitzvah reconnects us to the foundation that has carried our people for thousands of years. Balaam's blessing still echoes today, reminding us that our survival has never been an accident. We are here because we remain rooted in Jewish life, and every Jew-hater knows that. Now it's time for each of us to accept and live this simple truth.

Everyone Is Holy; So What Was Korach's Mistake?

Friday, June 19, 2026 - 3:07 PM

We live in an age of oversharing. Every scroll through social media seems to bring another reminder of someone else's success, vacation, family, business achievement, or perfect moment. It's never been easier to compare ourselves to others and wonder whether we're doing enough, earning enough, accomplishing enough, or becoming enough. How do we respect and admire others without feeling the need to become them? How do we celebrate the blessings of those around us while still appreciating the unique person G-d created us to be?

The answer lies in his week's Torah portion, Korach, which seems to raise an interesting question. Korach challenged the unique leadership positions held by Moses and Aaron. He argued that if "the entire congregation is holy," why should Moses lead and Aaron serve as High Priest? On the surface, his argument sounds noble. After all, wasn't he right? Aren't all Jews holy? Doesn't every person possess a Divine soul and infinite value? If so, why was Korach's rebellion considered such a grave mistake?

The answer lies in what Korach failed to understand. Yes, every person is holy, but holiness does not mean sameness. Hashem created a world filled with diversity of purpose, talent, and responsibility. Moses was chosen to lead. Aaron was chosen to serve as High Priest. Others were given different missions. Korach could not accept his own role because he was too focused on someone else's. Instead of appreciating his unique gifts, he became consumed by comparison. His problem wasn't that he valued equality; it was that he confused equality of worth with sameness of purpose.

This remains one of the greatest challenges of our generation. Comparison robs us of happiness because it convinces us that our success depends on having someone else's life. It blinds us to the blessings we already possess and distracts us from the mission only we can fulfill. The truth is that no one else can be you. No one else has your combination of experiences, talents, opportunities, and responsibilities. The moment we stop measuring ourselves against others, we become free to develop the gifts Hashem placed within us.

This week, let's make a conscious effort to celebrate the successes of others while embracing our own unique journey. Instead of asking, "Why am I not like them?" ask, "What does Hashem want from me?" Instead of focusing on what someone else has been given, focus on what has been entrusted to you. The world doesn't need another version of someone else. It needs the person Hashem created you to be. When we stop comparing and start contributing, we discover not only greater happiness but the purpose for which we were created: to unite as a team, all working in our own unique way to make our world a home for the divine.

Stop Working So Hard and Just Do Your Job!

Friday, June 12, 2026 - 1:32 PM

Everyone is working so hard these days. We’re answering emails at midnight, taking calls on vacation, juggling careers, family, finances, and expectations that seem to grow by the day. We’re burning out before we hit 30. What happened to quality of life? How can we possibly keep up? And if we slow down, won’t we fall behind? Won’t someone else get ahead? Is this system really making us successful, or is it simply exhausting us? Worse yet, the endless rat race is leaving little room for meaning and purpose. We’re so busy making a living that many of us have forgotten to ask what we’re living for. What do we do?

The answer lies in this week’s Torah portion, Shelach, which tells the story of the spies sent to scout the Land of Israel. At first glance, they seem responsible and diligent. They didn’t just report what they saw; they analyzed it, interpreted it, projected outcomes, and offered strategic conclusions. They worked overtime. They went beyond the assignment. Yet their extra effort led to one of the greatest tragedies in Jewish history. Their mistake wasn’t laziness. Their mistake was forgetting where their responsibility ended and where G-d’s responsibility began.

Moshe never asked them to determine whether the Jewish people could conquer the land. He asked them to see it and report back. Their job was to gather information, not to decide the future. But they took ownership of a mission that was never theirs to carry. They looked at the challenges, measured them against human ability, and concluded that success was impossible. They forgot the most important factor in the equation: Hashem. Had they remembered that G-d was the One bringing the Jewish people into the land, they would have simply done their part and trusted G-d to do the rest.

How often do we make the same mistake? We convince ourselves that everything depends on us. We carry burdens that were never meant to be ours. We obsess over outcomes we cannot control. We sacrifice our health, our families, our faith, and our peace of mind in pursuit of one more achievement, one more dollar, one more milestone. The Torah teaches otherwise. We are obligated to put in effort, but not to carry the world on our shoulders. Success comes when we do our job faithfully and leave the results to Hashem. When we stop trying to control everything, we create space for what truly matters: our relationships, our values, our purpose, and our connection to G-d. After all, what is the point of reaching the finish line if we took the wrong journey?

This week, take a moment to ask yourself: Am I doing my job, or am I trying to do G-d’s job too? Am I building a life, or simply keeping up with the race? Identify one worry, one burden, or one outcome that you’ve been trying to control, and let it go. Put in honest effort, do what is yours to do, and trust Hashem with the rest. Make time for your family, your faith, and your purpose. The goal of life is not simply to survive the race; it is to live a life of meaning, blessing, and purpose; uplifting not just yourself, but your family and community, and, through your example, the entire world.

We Can’t Move Forward and Leave So Many Behind?

Friday, June 5, 2026 - 4:56 PM

Have you noticed how much pressure exists in our society to succeed? We are constantly being told to move faster, achieve more, earn more, and accomplish more. The expectations are high, and the pace is relentless. In the process, many of us become so focused on our own goals, challenges, and ambitions that we barely notice the people around us. Those who struggle, fall behind, or lose their way are often left to fend for themselves. We celebrate those who race ahead, but what about those who are hurting, disconnected, or searching for direction? How can we truly move forward as a society when so many people are being left behind?

The answer lies in this week's Torah portion, Behaaloscha. The Torah tells us that the tribe of Dan occupied a unique role among the Jewish people, and describes them as the "collector of the tribes." As the nation journeyed through the desert, Dan traveled at the rear of the camp, gathering lost objects and helping those who had fallen behind reconnect with the rest of the nation. Their mission was not simply logistical; it was deeply spiritual. Dan represented the belief that no one and nothing should be abandoned. If something was lost, it was worth searching for. If someone had fallen behind, they were worth bringing back. This work didn't hold them back; it was a badge of honor.

This same message is reflected in one of the most remarkable mitzvot found in this week's Torah portion: Pesach Sheni. A group of Jews approached Moshe, devastated that they had missed the opportunity to bring the Passover offering. They could have accepted their fate and moved on, but instead they cried out, "Why should we be deprived?" Their plea gave birth to an entirely new mitzvah, a second chance to celebrate Passover one month later. Pesach Sheni reminds us that in Judaism, failure is never final. A missed opportunity does not define a person. There is always a path back, always another chance to reconnect.

Perhaps that is why Dan and Pesach Sheni appear together. Both teach us the same eternal truth: no Jew, no person is ever truly lost. Sometimes people lose their way because of circumstances beyond their control. Sometimes they lose their way because of poor choices they themselves made. Yet the Torah does not divide people into the worthy and the unworthy. It teaches us to see potential where others see failure, possibility where others see defeat, a soul waiting to be rediscovered.

Our challenge is to bring this message into our daily lives. We live in an increasingly self-focused culture that encourages us to look inward rather than outward. This week, let us embrace the spirit of Dan. Reach out to someone who may be struggling. Call someone who has been forgotten. Encourage someone who feels disconnected. Help someone find their way forward. We are responsible for one another, not only for those who are thriving, but especially for those who have fallen behind. When we refuse to give up on each other, we become partners with G-d in helping every soul find its way home, and only together will we rise and bring Moshiach, harmony, and healing for our world.