This week’s portion, Ekev – litereally, “because of” – is the direct continuance of last week’s portion, which introduced us to the first part of the “Sh’ma” (btw - not “Shema,” as all English translations insist upon, for no good reason). Today’s portion introduces us to the second part of the sh’ma, and allows me to dedicate my entire post to this magnificent prayer. My discussion, however, would not be original; I am only bringing the words of Leibovitz (from his article: On the Reading of Sh’ma, in Judaism, Human Values, and the Jewish State 39 (Harvard, 1992); this is a wonderful article, which begins with the ever-so Leibovitzian statement: “I know of no ways to faith other than faith itself.”) Leibovitz, in turn, claims also to say nothing new – he relies on the Rambam (Maimonides). And so on and so forth. Obviously, in the short space I have here I will provide only a glimpse, a taste of the many things that can be said on this very unique text. In fact, today I will only dwell on one word, and one word alone, appearing in it. But let us begin with what is really important – the text of the Sh’ma.
The Sh’ma is Judaism’s most important text. It also its most sacred text. In fact, it is nothing short of Judaism’s defining text. The Mishna opens with it. (“From what time may one recite Sh’ma?” (Tractat Be’rachot A (a), Z’raim)) Throughout history, many a Jew had recited it – of their free will – as their last words, under the most horrific of circumstances. Every practicing Jew still states the text twice a day, every single day of their adult life.
And yet, to many – most? – Jews worldwide, this fundamental text is not well known at all. This incredible document of Jewish heritage is no longer a part of every Jew’s vocabulary. Let us, then, introduce it back to the readers; and then comment on only one word in it.
The Text of Sh’ma Israel
Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. (Sh’ma Israel
And You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might. And these words which I command you today shall be upon your heart. You shall teach them thoroughly to your children, and you shall speak of them when you sit in your house and when you walk on the road, when you lie down and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign upon your hand, and they shall be for a reminder between your eyes. And you shall write them upon the doorposts of your house and upon your gates.
And if you shall hear and adhere to My commandments which I enjoin upon you this day, to love the Lord your God and to serve Him with all your heart and with all your soul, I will give rain for your land at the proper time, the early rain and the late rain, and you will gather in your grain, your wine and your oil. And I will give grass in your fields for your cattle, and you will eat and be sated. Take care lest your heart be lured away, and you turn astray and worship alien gods and bow down to them. For then the Lord's wrath will flare up against you, and He will close the heavens so that there will be no rain and the earth will not yield its produce, and you will swiftly perish from the good land which the Lord gives you. Therefore, place these words of Mine upon your heart and upon your soul, and bind them for a sign on your hand, and they shall be for a reminder between your eyes. You shall teach them to your children, to speak of them when you sit in your house and when you walk on the road, when you lie down and when you rise. And you shall inscribe them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates - so that your days and the days of your children may be prolonged on the land which the Lord swore to your fathers to give to them for as long as the heavens are above the earth.
The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the children of Israel land of Egypt
The “Love” of Sh’ma
After the ceremonial introductory sentence – constituting the notion of one God, which is our God, and calling upon Him to listen to us (a sentence upon which alone dissertations have been written) – the Sh’ma begins with an order, a decree to love; and not to love just anyone, but to love God. And, as the decree goes, this is no ordinary love – that every Jew is ordered to perform – but the ultimate love: “with all your heart, and all your sole, and all your might.” Indeed, as Rabbi Akiva is famous for saying: “With all thy sole, meaning even when they have taken away your sole you would still love Him.” Unfortunately, this wonderful statement has turned into horrific fact too many times throughout our history, beginning with Rabbi Akiva himself (who was executed by the Romans with iron flesh-combs).
Of the many enormous questions raised by this particular word-choice – to love your God – I will (very superficially) look at two: Why was love chosen over all other possible relations with God; and what does love mean in this particular context.
Why “Love”?
One would expect – after reading almost the entire Five Books of Moses – to find a completely separate title to describe the desired relationships between every Jewish person and their God: “fear” (“And you shall fear the Lord your God”), “obey” (“And you shall obey the Lord your God”), “abide by,” “acknowledge the greatness of,” or, perhaps most obviously – “believe in” (“And you shall believe in the Lord your God.”). Of all the stories we have read, the demand from the Israelite was never to love their God but to follow Him (while abandoning all other Gods, to be sure). So why the “love” of all a sudden? Where did this requirement come from?
The answer is at once surprising and very obvious: When the Torah text came to describe the desired relations between a Jewish person and their God, it was obviously bound by the limits of words – there is no way to describe such relations without words. And within those boundaries – within words – what is the strongest feeling a person could ever feel? What is the word that would signify, more than any other, the desired relationship between a person and his God? The answer is clear: It must be love. While this is no “ordinary” love (on that in a minute), this is the strongest, most experimental, most tantalizing feeling every person is capable of. And that’s the type of feelings they must – ordered to! – feel in relation to their God. “Take your biggest emotional commitment” the Torah tells us “and apply it to your relationship with God.” That is why love – and not any other feeling or condition – was selected to describe the desired relationship with God.
What is”to love” your God?
We all love. Most people love themselves (and politicians, they say, love themselves more than anyone else). Almost all love their children, if they are blessed with having them, and their families. But we also love money, and whatever it is it may buy for us – fast cars , expensive watches, “shopping,” etc.; we love vacations; we love to fall in love with other people… In short, we love many things. Which of these feelings, if at all, depict the “love” that we are ordered to perform vis-à-vis our God? Should we love Him the way we love ourselves? The way we love our new home? The way we loved our recent vacation?
Leibovitz – following the Rambam – has a very clear answer here: No. The word “love,” recall, was only used as a gap filler – “The Torah spoke in the language of humans” – there is not other word that may better describe this elated condition. But its concrete meaning here, argues Leibovitz is written to us in plain detail: “The unintelligible verse “and you shall love the Lord your God” is elucidated through its sequel: “And these words which I command you this day should be in your heart.” The acceptance of the yoke of Torah and Mitzvoth is [in and of itself] the love of God, and it is [also] this that constitutes faith in God.” (id., at 44)
But here is also where Leibovitz and I part ways: While his interpretation is completely plausible – it is probably more “correct” in terms of Halacha – I would like to adopt a more romantic, independent, and somewhat anarchistic notion of the content of “love” for God. In my mind, while we all love – as we have said before – we also all love differently. While everyone who is reading these lines has uttered (and hopefully heard) the words “I love you” to someone else, each person felt, and meant, different things by saying these exact same words. My thought is that the Torah chose “love,” indeed, to denote the highest level of feelings each of us may reach – and that is the level, and power, of feelings we should be aiming at God. But as to the content of those feelings – in my mind – the Torah gave us complete freedom; everyone may love as they see fit, as long as they truly love (nothing short of that) their God. And just like you know that you love someone else, you feel it, it is burning within you – so you will know you truly love your God. This is an internal process; you don’t need to demonstrate or report it in any way. True, the performing of the Mitzvoth would be a great way to share that love with the world – to notify everyone that you do love your God; but just like with marriage – which is an announcement to the whole world on love – it is very desirable notion, but not a necessary precondition for the feeling of love. You are free to love any way you choose, as long as you truly love.
Shabbat Shalom,
Doron
Shabbat Shalom,
Doron
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