February 20, 2026

Over the last two weeks, we have practiced the middot of patience and compassion. As we continue through our month focusing on mussar, this week we turn to courage, in Hebrew ometz lev, which directly translates to strength of heart.

These words were first made famous in the Torah when Moses transfers his leadership to Joshua and blesses him with the words, “Hazak v’ematz – be strong and of good courage.” I often think about so many of our youth who struggle to be themselves and be strong in who they are. There is so much pressure to be accepted that even someone who knows something is wrong may go along with it, simply to gain the approval of their peers.

I also think about courage when we encounter moments where it would be easier to run the other way and avoid the challenge at hand. One moment that has always stood out to me was my experience on a high ropes course. Several weeks ago, I shared this in a sermon. I recall a time when I ascended a high ropes course only to come down immediately. It took me about 15 years to try again. While it would not have mattered to anyone if I had never tried, or if I had gone up and come down again, I wanted to prove something to myself. I pushed forward and overcame my fears.

Alan Morinis explains in Every Day, Holy Day that courage—ometz lev, or a strong heart—boldly pursues what is right and what is called for, without succumbing to anxiety or fear about its own safety or benefit. Does this mean we are called to act justly—even when doing so may place us at personal risk for the sake of what is right? The Torah teaches us in the book of Leviticus that we “should not stand idly by the blood of our neighbor.” When commenting on this verse, the Talmud points out that we should dive into a river to save someone from drowning. However, if we do not know how to swim, we do not have to risk our lives to save that person.

Rabbi Amy Eilberg, in the Mussar Torah Commentary, teaches, when writing about Parshat Sh’mot, that Shifra and Puah’s actions to save Moses were prime examples of courage. The midwives, according to the Torah, held the fear of God in their hearts, and they did not listen to what Pharaoh had told them to do—kill every male child born. In truth, these women were courageous because they risked their lives to save the Israelite children. It is not clear from the text if these midwives were Israelite or Egyptian. Scholars believe they may have been Egyptian women. If that is the case, then their actions would certainly have warranted death. In our times, we might have to do something that goes against our friends, and by doing what is right, we may lose those close to us. Acts of courage may require us to take calculated risks that come with some form of consequence.

How might we know what to do when we are tested? Psalm 27 concludes, “Hope in the Eternal; be strong and of good courage.” Traditionally, these words are read daily for the month leading up to the High Holy Days. They remind us that we need courage to do the difficult work that the accounting of the soul demands of us. The courage we need is not physical strength but spiritual strength. We look inward for the answers, we build networks of support, and we take the calculated risks we know we need to take because, deep down, our action reflects moral courage.

Rabbi Eilberg suggests a practice for the middah of courage when she invites us to think about Shifra and Puah when we are feeling doubtful about the world. If we consider what we might do at a given moment, we might wonder what they would do. What does moral courage look like? In times when we are afraid, we might ask ourselves what we can do to take just one step forward.

In the week ahead, let us reflect on moving forward in a world that has a rocky path.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner

February 13, 2026

As we continue our journey to nurture our soul, I hope that you have taken time this past week to work on strengthening your patience. As a reminder, Mussar practice helps us grow and nurture the middot—virtues or measures that live within our soul.

This week, I would like to focus on the middah of compassion. As a Semitic language based on a root system, Hebrew allows us to learn much about words through their affiliation with other words. Just as we saw last week with the Hebrew word for patience being tied to burden, the Hebrew word for compassion, rachamim, also offers a meaningful connection. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch notes that this word is closely tied to the word rechem, which means womb. He explains, “Compassion is a feeling of empathy which the pain of one being of itself awakens in another; and the higher and more human the beings are, the more keenly attuned are they to re-echo the note of suffering which, like a voice from heaven, penetrates the heart.” We learn from Hirsch the powerful insight of connection resulting from the pain one feels and how it is impressed upon another. For Hirsch, compassion is a feeling. However, compassion needs to be more than that.

Compassion is expressed as an action. When we encounter another person and empathize with their suffering, that empathy is certainly important; however, taking that empathy to the next step means doing something to lift up another person and bringing a measure of healing to their soul. The rabbis teach us that visiting the sick takes away one-sixtieth of their pain. The act of visiting stems from rachamim, compassion. If we are quick to dismiss that person, or we act harshly toward them, then we have to ask ourselves if we are truly acting with compassion. And yet there are times when a loved one might need tough love. Contemporary Mussar master Alan Morinis teaches in Everyday Holiness that, “There is ‘compassion in the form of compassion,’ when our feeling along with the other leads us to act kindly, softly, and gently. The second type of compassion comes as ‘compassion in the form of judgment.’ In this case, our shared feelings with the other call for action that is firm, hard, or possibly even harsh.” More often than not, our loved ones need that gentleness. However, if we see our loved one heading down the wrong path in life, tough love may be what is needed to help that person navigate back to the right path.

Alan Morinis teaches us that we can use the following phrase to guide our practice: “Care for the other—we are one.” It is a reminder that compassion is rooted in the connectedness between two individuals.

For a practice, Morinis suggests in his book Every Day, Holy Day that we might try the following:

1. Identify a person or people with whom there is a heaviness in your relationship, then act toward them in a way that reaches beyond what is required in order to relieve them of their burden.
2. See the part of you that lives within the other and take care.

As we move about our week, let us nurture the compassion that lives within our soul.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner

February 6, 2026

Throughout the month of February, while I am away on my monthlong sabbatical, I have prewritten each of these messages and will be spending this month focusing on Mussar. Long before there were self-help sections in bookstores and libraries, Jewish sages created a movement called Mussar. It began in the 12th century with Bahya ibn Pakuda’s treatise entitled Hovot Halevavot. Over the centuries, several texts were written that expanded the Mussar library. In the 19th century, Rabbi Israel Salanter modernized the movement, and in the 20th century, Alan Morinis helped spread it to the masses through several books.

The idea behind Mussar is that we are all born with characteristics in our soul, and throughout our lives we grow by bringing them into balance. Mussar is a practice, much like yoga is a practice. To truly immerse in Mussar, one must put in effort on a character trait for at least a week at a time. In Hebrew, the word for character trait is midah, which means measure. We can think of a character trait as being on a scale. For example, with the trait of humility, too much humility and we could be construed as weak or passive. Too little humility means we have too much pride and might behave in a haughty manner. The purpose of Mussar, then, is to find balance.

I would like to begin by looking at the midah of patience—in Hebrew, savlanut. One of the biggest challenges some of us face is a test of our patience. It is often too easy to become frustrated when we try and fail at something. If we fail repeatedly, frustration mounts. It is as if we have a fuse, and the match lights it, leading to anger.

The Talmud (Eruvin 54b) offers a story about Rabbi Preida, who had a student he would teach the same lesson 400 times before the student learned it. One day, the student was distracted and did not learn. Rabbi Preida said to him, “Pay attention, and I will teach you.” Rabbi Preida taught the lesson another 400 times, and the student learned it. Rabbi Preida is a model of patience because after three or four repetitions, he might have become frustrated, yet he demonstrated patience.

Alan Morinis teaches that the word savlanut shares a Hebrew root with words meaning suffering or burden. It also shares a root with the Hebrew word for porter. The burdens we carry test our capacity for patience. If we are able to hold what tests us on our shoulders, then we expand our potential for patience. In her memoir, Heart of a Stranger, Rabbi Angela Buchdahl explains that the Torah’s word for patience is erech apayim—literally, a long nose. Or perhaps, put another way, patience requires us to take a deep breath. I know that when my patience is tested, I need to take a deep breath. I need to pause so that I can carry the burden. If I fail to breathe, I am lost and have gone down the road of losing my patience.

One way to practice Mussar is to repeat a phrase and engage in a spiritual practice. Alan Morinis, in his book Every Day, Holy Day, advises us to say, “Every person has their hour; everything its place.” For a practice, we might try the following:

1. Identify the most likely situation to try your patience and commit to “bearing the burden of your emotions” for at least five minutes in that situation.
2. Whenever you are forced to wait, fill the space with a positive activity, such as resting, singing, or reviewing something you learned.

As we focus on these words and practices for the next week, we will begin to see how we grow in our patience.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner

Recommendations for Mussar Practice:

1. The Mussar Torah Commentary edited by Rabbi Barry Block, CCAR Press

2. Every Day, Holy Day by Alan Morinis

3. Everyday Holiness by Alan Morinis