Rabbi's Corner

This week’s Torah reading consists of the double parshiyot of Acharei Mot and Kedoshim.  In Parashat Kedoshim we find the following: “But you shall love your fellow as [you love] yourself; I am HaShem!” (VaYikra 19:18) Is this mitzvah (commandment) an impossibility to fulfill?  After all, how can a Yemenite Jew love an American Jew?  Each has a set of completely different customs and traditions which seem to be totally incompatible.  Furthermore, how can a Chasid love a Litvak when the two have been arguing for centuries about the proper (i.e.- correct) way to serve Hashem?  And how can an observant Jew love a secular Jew when they seem so diametrically opposed to each other?  And yet, there, in “black-and-white,” is the mitzvah (probably the most important one of all) of our Torah as clear as day.

Rebbe Nachman teaches that each member of Am Yisrael (the People Israel) possesses a special quality that every other member lacks thus making everyone of us “uniquely unique” (my words).  He writes that one Jew’s special quality might be the ability to arouse another Jew to action opening his/her heart and soul to serve Hashem.  Because of this, the members of Am Yisrael are therefore dependent upon one another for increasing our Avodat Hashem (Service to Hashem).  For example, whereas one Jew may be a serious scholar who is capable of learning Torah for hours on end, another Jew may be a dynamic person who does good deeds and exhibits lovingkindness to his fellow Jews.  If they both meet each other and develop a relationship, something quite wonderful can happen: each person can reflect his/her own special quality on his/her friend to the mutual benefit of both people.  This upwardly spiral movement results in both people being more devoted both to Hashem and to Am Yisrael thus becoming better Jews.  They then are able to fulfill the mitzvah to love their fellow Jews as they love themselves.  Perhaps the following Chasidic parable will better explain this principle:

That particular Ukranian winter was a very bitter one indeed.  The snows did not melt until Pesach, and even then the roads were barely negotiable muddy messes of ruts and potholes.  The annual May Farmers’ Bazaar in Berditchev managed to attract only one-third of its normal number of participants. This made the merchants especially glum.  Yankele, a tall strapping livestock dealer from Zhitomer, sold draft horses.  Every time he tried to interest a prospective customer to buy one of his steeds, the customer would back off, shrug his shoulders, and say, “What good is your horse to me if I cannot afford a harness and a wagon?”

On the other side of the market, Yoshke sat on a wooden crate in front of his pile of harnesses and twiddled his thumbs.  He had not made a single sale all day long.  Across the street from him under an open shed was Feivel who was exhibiting his five new sturdy wagons, all guaranteed to last a long time.  However, not a single person stopped to interrupt his recitation of Tehillim (Psalms) to inquire about the price of a wagon.  Later in the day the merchants gathered in the local shtiebel to daven Minchah (afternoon) prayers.  After they finished davening, they filed out of the shtiebel and began returning to their respective stalls.  It is then that Feivel, Yoshke, and Yankele struck up a conversation with each other.  Each sang his respective song of woe to the other two, a song which spoke of no customers and no income.

Suddenly, Yankele came up with a wonderful idea: “Say, why don’t I bind one of my horses to one of your best quality harnesses, Yoshke, and then hook it up to Feivel’s best wagon?  We can then display the whole thing in the center of the Bazaar and see what happens.  Would both of you like to try such a partnership?”  Both Yoshke and Feivel immediately agreed to Yankele’s proposal, giving praise to both Yankele and Hashem for such a wonderful idea.  In a short period of time, the sale of the harnessed horse and wagon brought almost twice the price of each component sold by itself much to the satisfaction and gratification of all three merchants.  By the end of the week, they had sold another four horse-drawn wagons.  Each man returned home with more money than he had ever earned, with a new and thriving partnership, and – more than anything else – with two new friendships.

          Like Yankele, Yoshke, and Feivel of this parable, each member of Am Yisrael has the ability to bring his/her own special quality into a friendship and a relationship that can be made with any other member of Am Yisrael.  The more one Jew truly loves another Jew, the more s/he gains from that person’s special quality.  It only makes sense then that the more we love those of Am Yisrael who come from different backgrounds and histories, the more we become better servants of Hashem by recognizing that each one of us – all of us – have been created b’Tzelem Elokhim, in the Image of G-d.  And that makes all of us “uniquely unique.”