Stones of Simplicity

Photo Credit: Jewish Educational Media. The Lubavitcher Rebbe lovingly handing out cake to Jewish mothers and children, at a distance.

I am a very literary person, so it’s interesting why for the first time, a simple question like this popped into my head: In several tzivuyim in the Torah, we have the language of ואהבת—and you shall love—connecting the subject with the word את. For instance, ואהבת את ה׳ אלוקיך, and you shall love Gd—similar to ואהבתם את הגר, and you shall love the convert. However, when it comes to our fellow Jews, the Torah writes, ואהבת לרעך, and you shall love to your neighbor, instead of using את to connect the subject of the sentence to its object—that is, us to each other.

If we’re familiar with Jewish studies, we understand that every word in the Torah has Divine intent. Therefore, if the text has a specific word that seems somewhat off, or doesn’t exactly fit, indeed it has a purpose in teaching us a relevant value. I would love to suggest—and ברוך שכונתי, blessed be it if I intuited a particular commentary—that the preposition ל or “to” in the command ואהבת לרעך כמוך, is deliberate in imparting the lesson of loving that which belongs to our neighbor.

Because it is difficult to love any person and conjure positive feelings for all the people around us, the Torah doesn’t expect that which is unrealistic and ask of us to love everyone directly. Rather, according to my understanding of the dictum, the Torah expects us to love what belongs to our neighbor by respecting their possessions, treating their family well, and the like—to appreciate what’s “to them,” and not necessarily them themselves right away.

Many times, the challenge of not easily getting along with certain personalities is understandable, so HaShem never demands of us the impossible, saying that we must love everyone fully and wholeheartedly. Rather, we are told to appreciate what we can of our neighbors and fellow people, and hopefully through this, we will end up coming to love their person too.

We find this emotional development with the self as well. Sometimes we don’t like ourselves, and some of us even on a subconscious level are self-loathing. You don’t need a therapist to tell you that a sure method in beginning to love yourself is by treating that which is to you with respect. Treat your body well, take invigorating showers, eat a healthy diet, and take care of yourself.

In this light, the basis of behavioral reinforcement is the idea that when we continuously behave a certain way, we will come to feel a certain way. This is actually a fundamental belief behind the Sefer HaChinuch’s explanation of the mitzvos as tools to create feelings within us through the behaviors we are dictated to do—as the author often writes throughout the text, אחרי הפעולות נמשכים הלבבות!

For instance, on the night of Pesach, Jews were commanded not to break the bones of the sacrifice and to avoid this behavior in order to engender an intrinsic feeling of royalty, since kings don’t break bones when they eat, and on Pesach night, we were (and still are) kings! The beautiful simplicity of the Sefer HaChinuch has predated CBT and other schools of psychology by centuries. In this way, the Torah and its commentaries are the blueprint of wisdom for all of mankind.

Back to the command of ואהבת לרעך כמוך, as it relates to the self: In order to come to love ourselves, we have to commit to behaviors that foster this feeling. To put it simply, we must do loving things to what belongs to us in order to reach and accomplish a true self-love. In other words, we need to respect and take care of our physical bodies, as well as our mental health, like going for a walk and building happy friendships. Then ultimately, as a result, when you love what surrounds you, you will end up loving you for you. And that’s a must.

As many of us have learned this basic truth: in order to love anybody, you need to know how to love you. ואהבת לרעך כמוך—Love that which is to your neighbor, just as you love that which is to yourself. This pasuk is not only an interpersonal directive but a hidden gem of wisdom in becoming appreciative of who we are as people.

On a related note, in the Mishkan, the Kohen Gadol had a special super power. He possessed the ability to answer the most esoteric of questions of his people with the help of his Divine gift, the Urim v’Tumim, or the choshen. The choshen was worn over his heart and held twelve different colored stones, each one representing a Tribe. When the Kohen Gadol was asked a question and he didn’t know how to respond, he consulted with the Urim v’Tumim. Within an instant, a few stones lit up—as each stone was engraved with specific Hebrew letters—forming a response of a specific word or phrase.

This special gift was endowed upon the individual who was appointed to represent the Jewish people as a whole and who, on the Yomim Noraim, went before Gd in the Holiest of Holies to beg Him to listen to the סניגור (supporting angel) of Klal Yisrael and not their קטיגור (prosecutor) for the upcoming year. The Kohen Gadol dedicated his daily service of prayers in front of the pure Cherubim and golden Tablets for the exclusive benefit of his people. That is, his primary job was to be מלמד זכות—to, so to say, teach Gd the merit of his nation.

By way of metaphor: Anyone working as an attorney knows the importance of mentally standing with your client whom you’re representing in a case—to know him, to feel the injustice that was done to him, and support his positive values and spirit in front of the judge. In a similar vein, in order for the Kohen Gadol to adequately and successfully entreat HaShem to help his Jewish clients, he needed to know them in and out, in all of their varying goodness, to make their case before HaShem. So by nature, the Kohen Gadol (with the exclusion of certain questionable individuals appointed during the Second Temple) was good-natured and was bred to see positive in others.

For this reason, he was adorned with the beautiful and holy Urim v’Tumim, or the Lights of Simplicity, whose blessings of wisdom and Gdliness stemmed from his intrinsic ayin tovah and simplistic way of viewing man. In a literal sense, the word tamim means both pure and simple, the ideas of which go hand in hand: Sometimes, the simplest of Jews and the unassuming men in the shadows are the purest of people. In this sense, purity radiates from a simplicity of living, loving and viewing man.

As Dovid HaMelech writes, עשה אלוקים את האדם ישר והמה בקשו חשבונות רבות (7:29). HaShem created us very simple and yet through the varied yetzer haras that corrupt us, we make things more complicated than they need to be. Before human complexity and frustrations came along, we must realize that there was and is good in every person and certainly there is good in us!

The Kohen Gadol, without question, recognized this basic reality and was chosen as the individual to serve his people and to wear the choshen—the choshen which harnesses the goodness in each tribe, as each stone comes together to deliver a Divinely inspired message. Not only that—this royal piece lay over the Kohen Gadol’s heart to help us understand that many times, love can only develop without the presence of logic and instead, it can only develop with pure feeling. That is: our logic and biases can often discolor a simply natural love for our family and friend.

In this manner, the choshen was not a jewelry piece designed as a hat or headband to symbolize the growth of love in the brain and thought processes. But rather, the choshen was specifically designed to lay over the heart, the only place in man where a true, unfettered, and unsoiled love of another human being develops—a place where the thoughts of man don’t ruin our simple beginnings and natural feelings for one another.

After analyzing the manifestation of the Kohen Gadol’s purity of love, we should feel more encouraged in developing a good eye for ourselves and for others—as the Torah urges us in the command ואהבת לרעך כמוך—as we begin to replace judgement with appreciation, for the many things we can appreciate in the people we know! Regarding ourselves and others, what a sour life it is to ruminate over what kills our happiness and threatens our peace of mind.

Now here’s an interesting caveat: With any middah we develop, we must know how to develop it properly, in a healthy and well-balanced manner. For instance, when we learn to be kind, we must also understand when to use Gevurah (strength) and set limitations. When we learn to have compassion for others, we must also learn when it is appropriate to harness אכזריות (cruelty) and to let go of Mercy when we are called to stand up for a cause.

So when we truly understand the importance of the command to love each other, beyond ourselves, we must also learn propriety. Sometimes, when we connect to Jewish people, especially over religion and Torah, we have the potential of blurring the line between what’s appropriate and what’s not. I’ve been bothered by a particular example over the years.

I’m very surprised by the unquestioned practice of hiring men to teach young women in Bais Yaakov high schools and seminaries. While some individuals know their place and keep to it, the system itself is a bad set-up, from both ends. Men, young and old, in the Orthodox Haredi world, generally do not interact on a daily basis and in such a personal manner with women, especially girls and young ladies.

Therefore, when rabbinic individuals accept the opportunity to teach women Torah subjects—especially the ones that go beyond straight Halacha and venture into the depths of Hashkafah and discussions on Jewish outlook—they can be very well-intentioned yet have the strong likelihood of going astray. The nature of men and women is that there needs to be simple mechitzos, or barriers, for good reason. The dictates of yichud, negiah and kol ishah are prescribed for the Jewish public with clear intent, even if and especially when people are good and holy.

When schools hire men to work closely with young women and generally become their mentors in speaking one-on-one together about personal issues and religious direction, the hanhalah (administration) of each institution should possess a very basic understanding of the simplicity of interaction between men and women and show this understanding in their choices.

On this note: On the topic of Ahavas Yisroel and connecting to our fellow brothers and sisters, indeed, we must have boundaries. There have been countless improprieties—both minor and major—that I’m aware of just due to the undisputed reality of men teaching women. This practice is problematic not only from a teacher’s perspective but also from that of the students, who are eagerly craving spiritual guidance and connection at their age and are quick to follow any rabbi or person who speaks to their hearts with their wisdom, sense of humor and amusement, and a super ability to respond to any question about Torah thought and human behavior. Often enough, girls fall in love with their rabbis as their mentors, specifically in the emotional turmoil of finding themselves as young Jewish adults.

I believe that in this manner, like with any good trait that we must balance appropriately, hanhalos need to wake up and realize the need to have a mostly, or exclusively, female faculty. From a purely frum perspective, devoid of any feminism, there is nothing a man can teach to frum women that a woman cannot teach—and better. As creators of the Jewish home, women are constantly implementing the principles of Hashkafah, Parshah, Hilchos Shabbos, and lessons from Tanach. They are the most equipped—and appropriate—to teach the next generation of Jewish mothers.

To note, while I have definitely had my own share of positive rabbinic figures in my educational experience, the institution itself is intrinsically fallible on a major level, and change is necessary to protect our kedushah as an Am.

The Kohen Gadol, the prototype who teaches us love for our Jewish brother and sister is also the prototype who teaches us the gravity of being pure and modest. The Kohen Gadol, in fact, had several layers of clothing, which he changed into and out of, depending on his service and its location. His example teaches us the importance of Seder v’Nikayon, that there are expectations of us and there is a particular structure for every situation, including the need for modesty amongst men:

Firstly, for his service, the Kohen Gadol always donned a pair of priestly pants under a long tunic and an apron over that to ensure the utmost coverage of his legs and lower body. Additionally, there were only ramps, not steps, leading up to the altars, so the Kohen Gadol’s clothing (as well as that of the Kohanim) would not ride up to expose himself underneath, were he to climb upstairs. The Kohen Gadol, above all, was held to the strictest code of tznius, which seeded his unbelievable edge on kedushah over others.

Furthermore, the Kohen Gadol would not sleep on the night of Yom Kippur in order to remain as pure as possible, without the chance of a nocturnal emission, as unintentional and sinless as that could be. In this way, the Kohen Gadol was held yet again to such an extreme standard of tzidkus and was thereby tasked with the gift and duty of communicating directly to Gd as the holiest representative of Am Yisrael.

Let this righteous figure be our standard that we measure ourselves against, in working towards a life of loving all kinds of Jews—the sapphires, the colorless diamonds, and the blackened beauties—and also in remaining as purely devoted to God’s laws as He had intended us to be.