How many people here have friends who don’t eat kosher (fit according to Jewish law) exclusively? But they’re strict about kosher. Sure, a lot of the listeners will relate to that. Yesterday, we had a few people come to share incredible, incredible growth that’s come from attending the classes. A girl told me that two years ago she started coming to a Shabbat afternoon class, and now, this week, when I spoke about keeping Shabbat, she said it really struck her because two years later she’s now showing up at Shabbat.
Someone after last week’s Lashon Hara (harmful speech) class said that the class moved them so much that they completely changed the way they look at Lashon: “I didn’t speak one word of Lashon around the whole week.” I wish them further success in it. But after I shared those two yesterday, a girl came up to me at Seudah Shelishit (third meal) to tell me that she’s been listening to the class, and now she’s completely, completely kosher. There was one thing in one of the classes, completely kosher.
So now all those people don’t come from that world. Mrs. Shomeret Shabbat (one who observes Shabbat), you don’t have friends who are not Shomeret Shabbat. Mr. Lashon Hara, you don’t have friends who speak Lashon Hara. Mr. Kosher, you don’t have friends who just say to you, “Come on, it’s just fish. It’s just vegetarian. What could be wrong? Stop being so religious.” We all have people who are beneath our level of religiosity, who are speaking to us, and we live in that sphere. These are our friends.
The Pasuk (verse) here is speaking directly to a person who does not live in a circle of like-minded people. It’s telling every person who has ever had to do more than the people around them, whose friends maybe didn’t go to shul (synagogue) or only went to shul on Shabbat. They’re wondering, “Why do I have to go? Why do I have to be the kid who gets dragged out of bed on a Sunday morning by my father, by my grandfather? Why me? All my other friends are sleeping in. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” For every kid who thinks that, for every adult who wonders, “Why am I kosher when my friends are not?” the Torah is telling you something: “You are chosen for something. I put you in that class. I gave you that father or mentor. I gave you this life experience, because I want more from you than I want from them.” Don’t look at yourself with pride and arrogance. Look at yourself with responsibility. I was called upon to do more. Why? Not because I believe that I’m a Navi (prophet) and had God speaking to me—I need to be put in a room with soft walls—but because life’s experiences are God’s way of talking to me.
He made me marry someone who was more religious than me. He made me marry someone who was more religious than me. Someone who was challenging. Someone who was challenging to be married to. God didn’t make a mistake. He was asking you to step up and rise, to try harder.
People ask me a lot of times, “Shouldn’t it be this hard?” Are you joking? What is life except for hard? Life is filled with hard. Hard is not bad. Hard is only bad when the payoff is garbage. You don’t want to spend $50 on a bag of garbage. You don’t want to spend $50 on a bag of garbage. But if someone asked you for $50 and gave you a bag of gold, what’s your $50? Nothing.
The Torah is encouraging every last person amongst us. You’re picking your head up above the parapet. You’re trying to do more. It’s difficult. I don’t have everyone around me doing the same thing. Is that a bad thing, that you were chosen for greatness? Or is that a great thing? So you need to keep telling yourself, Hashem is calling me for this. Hashem put me here because He believes in me.