The Most Important Commandment of All
Lesson by Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
August 20, 2023
One of the most overused and misunderstood words in the English language is love. We hear it. We read it. We see it a hundred times a day, and—hopefully—make it a point to tell our family, friends and even pets, at least once a day, that we love them.
Love takes many forms, but first and foremost it’s an emotion, and a strong one at that. Ideally, it’s supposed to create a sense of harmony and safety, but we know well that it doesn’t always work that way. Love can lead to joy and happiness, but when gone wrong, it can also be the cause of jealousy, hatred and even violence.
In the 1969 song “The End” by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, the Beatles state their opinion that, “…In the end/The love you take/Is equal to the love you make.”
It’s an equation that sounded right and good in its time, but we know that in fact, love isn’t always reciprocated, and instead of fulfillment it can brings pain and a profound feeling of emptiness and isolation.
And yet, despite the many forms it takes—or perhaps because of that—love is one of the most powerful drives in our lives. In fact, it’s become the standard by which we measure our highest ideals as human beings, both in our relationships with people, and with God.
In the Torah—the foundation stone of all Jewish philosophy and law—love, an emotion that, in human experience springs from the depths of our hearts, becomes divine law, emanating from somewhere beyond our knowledge and understanding. The Torah commands us to love, as though love were something we could turn on or off at will.
In Deuteronomy 6:5 we read: “You shall love Adonai your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might.” And in Leviticus 19:18 we find the commandment that has become known as The Golden Rule, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
Rabbi Akiva, one of the greatest rabbis of the first and second centuries, taught that “Love your neighbor as yourself” was the most important teaching in the entire Torah.
Hillel the Elder, another of the great early sages, tried to reconcile the ideal of love with the reality of life. In the Mishna—an early compilation of rabbinic teachings—a story is told about an encounter between Hillel and a somewhat impudent heathen. The unnamed individual asks the famous rabbi to teach him the entire Torah while he—the student—was standing on one foot. In other words, he didn’t want a long and involved sermon; just a short summary, thank you. Despite the disrespectful nature of this request, the gentle rabbi agrees. Hillel then stands the famous maxim on its head even as he explains it neatly and succinctly: “That which is hateful to you,” he says, “do not do to your neighbor; that is the entire Torah, the rest is just commentary.”
Seen in this light, “love your neighbor as yourself” becomes simpler—both as a concept and as a form of real, concrete behavior. We may not always understand love, but we know well what we hate. In Hillel’s explanation, the commandment to love is defined by what love isn’t.
Just because love can take so many forms, the Torah goes out of its way to explain it in concrete terms, giving examples we can all understand. But, just to be clear, it isn’t romantic love that the Torah addresses, or the love we have for family and friends, but rather that which should exist between ourselves and the wider community around us, as well as the feelings of gratitude and devotion that we need to show God—or whatever other greater source of life and power we might believe in.
In the Torah, V'ahavta l’rei-acha kamocha, the Hebrew words that are often translated as “love your neighbor as yourself,” actually appear at the conclusion of a long list of commandments, comprising what today is known as the Holiness Code, Leviticus 19:1-18. Among these are the injunction against insulting the deaf, or placing a stumbling block before the blind. It is a holy act of love, we are told, to pay careful attention to the needs of poor, the widow, the orphan and the stranger among us. When reaping our harvest—literally or symbolically—we are commanded to leave a portion for those who may be weaker or less fortunate than us.
The list continues: Do not lie. Do not steal. Do not deceive one another. Do not spread slander. Do not hold back the wages of a hired worker. In judgment, the Torah commands that we try to be fair and impartial: “You shall not render an unfair decision: do not favor the poor or show deference to the rich; judge your kin fairly.”
Some of these rules may seem obvious, but others are more challenging, such as the mitzvah—the commandment—not to harbor hate in our heart, or even bear a grudge, against our fellow human being. A tough one for me, to be sure.
Finally, only once these laws are enumerated, do we get the sum of them all, as we read: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
Love binds us all—it’s the glue that holds together families and communities. But sometimes, everyday chores and responsibilities may blind us to the needs of others. Prejudices carried over from time immemorial may distort the way we see “the other.” And just because we are all human, all capable of being swayed by our many—and often conflicting—emotions, the Torah holds up for us a standard of behaviors that it calls “holy.” To follow these rules is more than good. It is holy.
The Torah teaches that we bring holiness into our lives not only through prayer and meditation, nor only through ritual and observance, but also through our personal, everyday interactions with one another. It isn’t enough merely to say “I love you.” It’s important—even holy—to show our love through our deeds and behavior. This is truly the most important—the central—teaching of the Torah, from which all the other commandments spring.
May we all learn to live in such a way that love doesn’t dwell only in our hearts, but rather also exists in our relationships with one another. May we light the spark of holiness not only in our own homes and lives, but also in the lives of all creatures, large and small, that inhabit the common home we all share—this sacred earth.
© 2024 by Boaz D. Heilman
