Love: A Paradox

ESSAY: Love: A Paradox
He taught them to love, but their love was too absolute to be true

INSIGHTS:
The Things You See
When to get involved

A TELLING STORY: Field of Expertise
Seeking advice

Love your fellow as yourself

Leviticus 19:18

This is a fundamental principle in the Torah

Rabbi Akiva

The Talmud relates that Rabbi Akiva had twenty-four thousand disciples, but because they “did not respect each other,” a plague broke out in which they all perished. It is for this reason that the seven weeks between Passover and Shavuot are a time of mourning, for it was in this period that Rabbi Akiva’s students died.[1]

The most famous of Rabbi Akiva’s teachings is the saying: “ ‘Love your fellow as yourself’—this is a fundamental principle in Torah.”[2] One would therefore expect that Rabbi Akiva’s disciples would be the foremost exemplars of this principle; how was it that they, of all people, were deficient in this area?

But it was their very diligence in fulfilling the precept “Love your fellow as yourself” that was their undoing. Our sages have said that “Just as every person’s face differs from the faces of his fellows, so, too, every person’s mind differs from the minds of his fellows.”[3] When the twenty-four thousand disciples of Rabbi Akiva studied their master’s teachings, the result was twenty-four thousand nuances of understanding, as the same concepts were assimilated by twenty-four thousand minds, each unique and distinct from its 23,999 compatriots. Had Rabbi Akiva’s students been less concerned with each other’s welfare, this would have been a matter of minor concern; but because each disciple loved his fellows as he loved himself, he felt himself duty-bound to correct their “erroneous” thinking and enlighten them as to the true meaning of their master’s words. For the same reason, they found themselves incapable of expressing a hypocritical “respect” for each other’s views when they sincerely felt that the other’s understanding was lacking, even in the slightest degree.

The greater a person is, the higher the standards by which he is judged; in the words of our sages, “With the righteous, G-d is exacting to a hairsbreadth.”[4] Thus, what for people of our caliber would be considered a “minor” failing had such a devastating effect upon the disciples of Rabbi Akiva. But our sages chose to record this story for posterity; indeed, it has been fixed in our lives by a series of laws that govern our behavior in the weeks between Passover and Shavuot each year. Obviously, we, too, have something to learn from what happened to Rabbi Akiva’s disciples.

The lesson is a twofold one: we must learn from their virtues as well as from their mistakes. We must learn to care enough for our fellow man not to indulge his errors and accommodate his failings; this might be the easiest and most socially comfortable way to behave, but, rather than “tolerance,” it bespeaks an indifference toward his welfare. On the other hand, we must never allow this to lessen in the slightest our respect and esteem toward him, no matter how misguided and unresponsive he might be.

If this seems paradoxical, it is. But regarding ourselves, it is a paradox with which we are quite comfortable—every psychologically healthy person loves himself and, at the same time, incessantly strives to improve himself. So it is a paradox that we must also cultivate in our relationship with others. To either temper our efforts to enlighten and better our fellow man out of respect for his views and feelings, or to allow these efforts to compromise our love and respect for him, is to fail to love him as we love ourselves—a principle which Rabbi Akiva considered fundamental to G-d’s blueprint for life and of which Hillel said: “This is the entire Torah; the rest is commentary.”[5]

Based on an address by the Rebbe, Iyar 17, 5744 (May 19, 1984), and on other occasions[6]

The Things You See

Do not stand by the blood of your fellow.

... to see him dying, and you are able to save him; for example, if he is drowning in a river and a beast or thieves are approaching him.

Rashi’s commentary, ibid.

A cornerstone in the teachings of Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov, founder of the Chassidic movement, is the doctrine of hashgachah pratit, “specific divine providence.” Specific divine providence means that not only does G-d oversee and determine all that transpires in the universe, but that also every detail and every aspect of every event is by divine design. If a leaf is torn off its branch by a wind blowing in a distant forest, and is blown this way and that before coming to rest on a specific place—it is because it was so ordained by G-d toward a specific purpose.

The Baal Shem Tov also taught that “from everything that a person sees or hears he is to derive a lesson in his service of G-d.” These two principles are closely related; indeed, the second is a derivative of the first. If something happens, and you happen to witness or hear about it, then both the event and the fact that you have been made aware of it are by divine providence. The event could have taken place without your knowledge; so the fact that you have learned of it is also significant. It must prompt you to understand something or to do something, otherwise your awareness of it would have been to no purpose.

Therein lies the deeper meaning of the above-quoted passage from Rashi. Rashi explains the meaning of the verse “Do not stand by the blood of your fellow” by adding the words “to see him dying, and you are able to save him.” But the words “and you are able to save him” read more as statement of fact than a clause; it would seem that, for the sake of clarity, Rashi should have written “if you are able to save him” or “when you are able to save him.” In truth, however, the very fact that you see him dying should indicate to you that you are indeed able to save him. Rashi is saying: Do not hasten to conclude that there is nothing you can do about your brother’s distress. For if this were indeed the case, to what purpose would G-d cause you to witness it?

Today, we are painfully aware that many of our brethren are threatened with spiritual extinction, G-d forbid. We see them drowning in materiality, we see them being devoured by a society that has lost its G-d and its moral moorings.

This awareness implies a duty and a responsibility: “Do not stand by the blood of your fellow” applies no less to spiritual dangers than to cases of physical jeopardy. It also carries a divine guarantee: the very fact that you have been made aware of your fellow’s plight means that you are capable of doing something about it.

Based on an address by the Rebbe, Shabbat Parshat Kedoshim 5746 (May 10, 1986)[7]

Field of Expertise

A West Coast lumber merchant once came to the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, to seek his counsel and blessing. After addressing the businessman’s concerns, the Rebbe asked him:

“How are your children?”

“They’re doing great!” replied the proud father. “They get high marks in school—two regular geniuses! They’re sure to be accepted in the top universities...”

“And what about their Jewish education? Why don’t you sent them to a yeshivah, so that they should grow to be knowledgeable and pious Jews?”

“Rebbe... it’s a different world here, in America. The neighborhood I live in... their friends... it just won’t be right...”

“The Torah applies to all times and places,” insisted the Rebbe. “America is no different. You can, and ought to give your children a Jewish education.”

But the businessman would not relent. The Rebbe argued, cajoled and berated; still the visitor remained adamant in his refusal to do his bidding.

“I don’t understand,” the Rebbe finally said. “Neither I, nor my father, ever engaged in business. Yet you came all the way from California to seek my advise on your most important business decisions. On the other hand, regarding the education of your children–the field to which I, and my ancestors, have devoted our entire lives–you won’t do as I say!”

Told by the Rebbe, Shabbat Behar-Bechukotai 5710 (May 13, 1950)[7]

Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber