Life on the edge

Let’s start with something very real.

Every group has insiders and outsiders. Every family, synagogue, workplace, or circle of friends has people who are involved and people who are drifting. Some show up, know what’s going on, and feel at home. Others feel awkward, disconnected, or just tired. They might care, but not enough to participate. Or they might feel they don’t belong anymore.

And the honest question is: Who do we actually care about? Who do we take responsibility for?

On the 10th of Shevat, the day the Rebbe accepted leadership of Chabad, this question sits at the heart of what Jewish leadership looks like. Because the Rebbe made one thing very clear: no Jew is ever written off. Not the uninformed. Not the uninterested. Not the uncomfortable. No one is “too far” to matter.

That idea didn’t start with the Rebbe. It starts in the Torah.

In this week’s portion, we read about Amalek attacking the Jewish people. At first, it sounds like a standard battle story. But later, the Torah adds a painful detail: Amalek didn’t go after the strongest. They attacked “the stragglers at the back.” The weak. The exhausted. The people who were already falling behind.

That detail changes everything.

Because now we’re forced to ask: how does Moshe respond when the people under attack are the least impressive ones?

Moshe doesn’t say, “That’s sad, but let’s focus on the strong.” He doesn’t say, “They made bad choices; that’s on them.” Instead, he acts immediately. He sends Joshua to fight. He himself fasts and prays. He stands with his hands raised until the battle is won.

All of this effort for the people at the back.

The Torah calls him “Moshe Rabbeinu,” Moses our teacher. Not just because he taught laws, but because he showed us how to think. A real teacher doesn’t just give information; they shape priorities. They teach you what matters and who matters.

If you want to know what kind of person someone was, look at the kind of people they produced. Students reflect their teacher’s values.

Moses isn’t just the leader of his generation. He’s the teacher of the Jewish people for all time. Which means his instincts are supposed to become ours.

And yet, a person might reasonably say: Why should I get involved with people who don’t seem interested? I’m trying to grow. I’m busy. I finally carved out something meaningful for myself; why complicate it?

The Torah’s response is clear: because that’s what being Moses’s student looks like.

And this is where the 10th of Shevat comes in.

When the Rebbe accepted leadership, he didn’t focus on building an elite group of insiders. He didn’t aim only at people who already knew the language or lived the lifestyle. He looked outward, toward Jews who felt distant or disconnected, and said: They matter. Not because they’re projects, but because they’re family.

The Rebbe taught that every Jew carries a spark of Moses inside them. That means every one of us has the ability and the responsibility to care a little beyond ourselves. To notice the person who feels left out. To make Judaism feel warmer and more accessible.

The takeaway isn’t that everyone needs to become a rabbi or an outreach professional. It’s much simpler. Don’t ignore the person at the edge. Don’t assume someone else will take responsibility. A phone call. An invitation. A conversation without judgment. Small acts matter more than we think.

Judaism has survived not because everyone stayed strong, but because we refused to abandon those who weren’t. That was Moses’s way. That was the Rebbe’s way.

And on the 10th of Shevat, we’re reminded that it’s meant to be our way too.