Ahavas Yisroel: A New Perspective on the Image of Every Jew | Rabbi Asher Perkesh

00:00 Today we’re going to talk about the mitzvah of “Love your fellow as yourself,” the mitzvah of Ahavas Yisroel. We all know about this mitzvah; we all hear about it. We never stop learning about it, talking about it, and encouraging it. Especially in our time, with what we see happening around the world and, in particular, in our Holy Land, we see how necessary it is to speak about Ahavas Yisroel and strengthen it. Of course, we all hear and talk about it. We all know what Rabbi Akiva said: “Love your fellow as yourself” is a great principle of the Torah. It is a verse that speaks to the whole Torah. And we all know what Hillel the Elder said: loving your fellow as yourself—that is the whole Torah. Fine. But when it comes to the practical side, when we begin to think about it, we realize that we don’t quite understand what these words mean in practice, how we can truly fulfill this mitzvah, or even whether it is possible to fulfill it in the fullest sense. “Love your fellow as yourself.” Three words. When we consider their plain meaning and ask what they mean for us, “love” means having sincere, genuine, pure love. “Your fellow” means every single member of the Jewish people, without exception. In the plain meaning of “your fellow,” the Torah gives us no exemptions and makes no exceptions: we must love every Jew. And “as yourself” means not just any love. The love must be like the love you have for yourself. That is how you’re supposed to love—and whom? Every Jew in the world. A Jew you’ve never met and have no connection with, or a Jew who isn’t in your community at all, isn’t on your level in conduct or in any other way, with whom you have no connection whatsoever. Even so, the Torah comes and says, “Love your fellow as yourself”: love every Jew as you love yourself. Everyone

02:25 understands that however hard I try to love the people around me, the love I have for myself is a completely different kind of love. I love myself because I am me. I don’t have to think about it or contemplate it. I love myself because I am myself. As for another person, however much I think about him and consider his virtues and the good things about him, ultimately he isn’t me. He is someone else. So how can one ask—how can the Torah demand of every Jew—“Love your fellow as yourself”? In fact, this question did not arise only in recent days, though these days there is a particular difficulty in working out how to take it to heart, put it into practice, and live by it. This question was already raised by the great Torah sages of earlier generations. We can see it in the Torah commentaries: the Ramban, one of the great Rishonim, Ibn Ezra, and other great commentators all struggle to explain the meaning of the verse. The Ramban even says that it is hard to understand how a person can be asked to fulfill this mitzvah in its plain sense. There are, indeed, a number of explanations. But today we’ll focus on the particular perspective that Chassidus reveals on this subject. Chassidus opens up a new light for us, a particular way of looking at it, so that we can connect with this mitzvah from a very deep, inward, and sincere place. Chassidus reveals that Ahavas Yisroel—“Love your fellow as yourself”—is already the practical expression of the mitzvah. It is the way we fulfill it. But something comes before Ahavas Yisroel, and Chassidus calls it achdus Yisroel, the unity of the Jewish people. The unity of

04:48 the Jewish people is the root of Ahavas Yisroel. So let’s talk today about that unity. Let’s try to understand what it is, how understanding it can lead us to Ahavas Yisroel, and how we bring that into our daily lives. We’ll begin with a story the Frierdiker Rebbe told in the year 5700. It was the beginning of World War II. The Frierdiker Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak, had survived the Holocaust. He had been right in the midst of the bombing and shelling in Warsaw, Poland, and had seen the destruction of European Jewry with his own eyes. Through open miracles, and by a roundabout route, he managed to reach America in the middle of 5700. On Shavuos that year, there was a farbrengen. As we know, Shavuos is the yahrzeit, the day of the passing, of the Baal Shem Tov. The Frierdiker Rebbe spoke then with great force about Ahavas Yisroel as our teacher the Baal Shem Tov had revealed it. He told a story about one of the great early Chassidic Rebbes, the renowned tzaddik Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev. As anyone who has read about him knows, Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev is renowned throughout the world as the defender of the Jewish people. He is famous as a tzaddik who saw only good in every Jew and spoke in defense of the entire Jewish people. As the Rebbe once said in a maamar on Rosh Hashanah in 5743, Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev is a tzaddik renowned in all the worlds—not just in our world—as one who loves the Jewish people and defends them. At that Shavuos farbrengen, the Frierdiker Rebbe told where Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev had acquired this ability, this special gift for speaking in praise

07:51 of the Jewish people, speaking in their defense, and finding merit in every Jew in such a remarkable way. The Frierdiker Rebbe said that he had received it from the Baal Shem Tov. It came from a teaching of Torah that the Baal Shem Tov gave on a Mishnah in Pirkei Avos. The Mishnah says: “Any Torah that is not accompanied by work will ultimately cease.” The plain meaning is that if a person studies Torah but does not work or engage in a trade, his study will not succeed. There must be both Torah study and work. But the Baal Shem Tov interpreted it differently. He said that the deeper meaning of this Mishnah is: “Any Torah that is not accompanied by work”—“work” means the work of Ahavas Yisroel. Any verse of the Torah, any teaching of our Sages, any subject in Torah that you study: if you cannot find in that verse, that study, or that halachah how it leads us to Ahavas Yisroel—how it leads us to see more good in a Jew, to look at him more positively, and to do a favor for a Jew with all our heart—then, if that Torah does not bring you to Ahavas Yisroel, it “will ultimately cease.” That Torah has no lasting existence. Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev heard these words in his youth, and they affected him for the rest of his life. He lived by this teaching throughout his life. It led him to develop such a special and wonderful approach: in every situation, however he saw a Jew—even a Jew who had sunk very low, to the worst possible state in Torah and mitzvos—he always managed to turn his perspective around, look at him positively, find merit in him, and speak in praise of the Jewish people. And that happened

10:08 In the merit of this teaching. The Baal Shem Tov revealed the subject of Ahavas Yisroel. In that same sicha, the Frierdiker Rebbe said in the name of the Alter Rebbe, the author of the Tanya, Rabbi Schneur Zalman, that when a Jew says a chapter of Tehillim and mentions the name of the Berdichever, Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, he arouses merit Above, in the Chamber of Merit. This brings him and his entire household everything they need, materially and spiritually. Continuing on that subject, the Frierdiker Rebbe also told a remarkable story about a student of the Baal Shem Tov who carried on his path and succeeded him: the Maggid of Mezritch. This is how the story went. The Maggid of Mezritch would sit in his room at night studying Torah. Outside, one of the students known as the holy fellowship—the group of his closest students, righteous and brilliant holy men—would sit by the door each night in case the Maggid needed or asked for anything. As is known, the Maggid had difficulty walking because of a condition affecting his legs, and he needed help with certain things. So every night, one of the students would stand outside and watch the door. One night, the famous tzaddik Reb Elimelech of Lizhensk, one of the Maggid of Mezritch’s greatest students, was on duty. He sat outside all night, and after midnight he suddenly heard movement. Startled, he got up and opened the door. The Maggid of Mezritch asked him to come in and said, “Listen, Melech”—that was what he called Elimelech—“listen, Melech, what do they say in the academy Above? What do they say in the heavenly academy?”

12:45 “They say there that the mitzvah of Ahavas Yisroel means loving a complete sinner the way one loves a complete tzaddik.” Those words brought about a great change. As the story continues, the next day Reb Elimelech was deeply moved by the whole experience and told his fellow students of the Maggid about it. They took it very much to heart. Later, a Jew came into a shul. He was very, very far from Torah and mitzvos, and he sat there mocking them—making fun of them and ridiculing the whole matter of Torah, mitzvos and faith. Instead of getting angry with him or answering him back, they did the opposite. After all they had heard from the Maggid of Mezritch, they prayed from the depths of their hearts and treated him with tremendous love, until that Jew’s heart broke open and he was stirred to do teshuvah. He changed completely, from one extreme to the other. So what is the secret of Ahavas Yisroel that Chassidus reveals to us? Here the Alter Rebbe, in chapter 32 of Tanya—the heart of Tanya—gives us a wonderful explanation of the unity of the Jewish people, which is the root and the reason for Ahavas Yisroel. He explains it this way: Where does Ahavas Yisroel come from? How can a Jew love every Jew? As we asked, how can you love every Jew, from the greatest to the least, from the holiest to the simplest, from the most righteous to the most wicked—and not merely love him, but love him as yourself, with the love you have for yourself? The Alter Rebbe tells us that we need to understand that the root of Ahavas Yisroel is the pure soul every Jew possesses. If we know what a wonderful, great gift Hakadosh Boruch Hu has given us—what our innermost essence really is, what a Jew is—if a Jew knows and truly recognizes what a Jew is, what his deepest self really is, then we can reach

15:11 the deepest Ahavas Yisroel. The Alter Rebbe explains in Tanya: Every Jew has a soul, and a Jew’s soul is “an actual part of G-d above.” The soul of each and every Jew is, so to speak, a part of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. It follows that the root of all the souls of the Jewish people is the one Hashem. Hakadosh Boruch Hu is called “Hashem is One”: “Hear, O Israel, Hashem is our G-d, Hashem is One.” All souls come from the same root, from the one Hashem. So at their root, so to speak, with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, all Jewish souls are really one point, one essence, one being—an actual part of G-d above. From there, the soul descends into this world, dividing into 600,000 souls, Jewish souls in separate bodies. But the separation between one Jew and another exists only on the level of the body. On the level of the soul, we are all really one. “We all have one Father.” We have one Father; our souls come from one root, one reality. When a Jew recognizes that in our essence we are really one, it helps him feel genuine love, a love as deep as the love he has for himself—love “as yourself” in the most literal sense. What does “as yourself” really mean? Generally, when we speak about love, there are two kinds. The kind we usually speak about is love between two people, where one loves the other because of the other person’s particular qualities. Sometimes I love someone because he is wise. I feel a strong connection to him; I love his wisdom. Or sometimes we connect with someone because we love his good character traits. Sometimes the love is more physical, more materialistic. I love the other person because of external things he has—money, power,

17:30 beauty. Those are external things that stir a connection and love in me. But as Pirkei Avos says, this kind of love is called “love that depends on something.” Love built on an intellectual reason, on an explanation or rationale, is love, but it cannot be a love of the person’s essence. It comes from the mind, from the other person’s qualities. In other words, I do not love the other person; I do not love you. I love your intellect. If you are very wise, I love wisdom, and because you are a person of wisdom, I love you. I love your wisdom. I love your kind heart. I love the more external things you have—money, gold and so on. But I do not love you, your essential self. I have no connection to that. And so my love does not come from my own essence either. It comes from somewhere external. My mind connects with your mind. My character traits connect with yours. I connect the things I have with the things you have, but I myself remain outside that love. But when we speak of love like the love within a family—the love of siblings, the love of a father for his son—that kind of love comes from the deepest place. It is not that I love what you have, or what you give me. The love between parents and children exists because we are one. “You are my very bone and flesh.” We are really one being, one essence. So that love does not depend on anything. It is not built on something external, and therefore nothing can break it. It is the love of one essence, one part. This is part of my own self, because it is me. So just as I love

19:33 I love myself—not because I love my mind, my character traits, my feelings, or the way I look. I love myself. That is the self, without any explanation. It is my essential being. So I love you because of your essential self. That is a genuine love, a love that does not depend on anything. The Torah comes and says, “Love your fellow as yourself.” In other words, when a Jew reflects that my essential being is not my body, the needs of my body, or its outward features—my true being is my soul, a veritable part of G-d Above. And that soul is one with your soul and with the soul of every Jew, from the greatest to the smallest. The holiest, loftiest, most elevated Jew, the greatest tzaddik, is no more and no less a Jew than anyone else. In terms of his soul, he is a veritable part of G-d Above. The same is true of the simplest Jew, even one who has fallen the lowest. Even when his conduct is at its lowest, that has to do with how he behaves, with the things he does. But in his essential being he is a Jew, a veritable part of G-d Above. So this is what the Torah tells us: “as yourself.” Jewish unity. When a Jew knows that, essentially, we are all one, that our essence is one, then, when we are united at the deepest level, you can love an utterly wicked person just as you love a complete tzaddik. You can love every Jew simply because he is a Jew. What we have just said is not an innovation of Chassidus. The Talmud Yerushalmi, in tractate Nedarim, already says this when it explains Ahavas Yisroel. The Gemara says: A person has two hands. Would he say that one hand should strike

21:39 the other hand? Would his two hands fight each other? That makes no sense. Why? Because they are two hands of one body, says the Yerushalmi. So it is with one Jew and another: he feels that we are all part of one body. The Talmud Yerushalmi already describes this unity, that we are all part of one body. The Jewish people are like one great body. There is a right hand, a left hand, a head, and a foot. Chassidus also explains at length this way of looking at Ahavas Yisroel: seeing one Jew and another as parts of one great body. Some Jews are called the “head”—people of Torah, “your heads, your tribes,” as the verse says. Other Jews are like the “foot”—“your woodcutters and your water drawers,” as it says in Parshas Nitzavim. The Torah comes and says: We are all one. The Jewish people are one great body. And in a body, you cannot simply say, “I am higher than you,” or “I am lower than you.” Just as the foot needs the head, the head needs the foot. Each completes the other. All the organs of the human body complete one another. But this is precisely where Chassidus adds greater depth. When we speak of one body, we are still emphasizing differences. There is a hand, a foot, a head, and eyes. That means the Jewish people are made up of different parts, and that is true. There are many kinds of Jews. Some are like the “heads”; some are like the “feet.” Some are particularly distinguished in one area, and others in another. Together, the entire Jewish people form one body and complete one another. That is a great Ahavas Yisroel.

23:32 But what the Alter Rebbe teaches us in Tanya reveals an even deeper level. We are not only talking about different parts of one body; we are talking about one essence. When we look at the entire Jewish people as we are all rooted in the highest source, in the one Hashem, there you cannot speak of a head, a body, and a foot. There are Torah scholars, those who devote themselves to Torah study, businesspeople, and simple people. But there, essentially, there is one point: a veritable part of G-d Above. This is what the Baal Shem Tov and Chassidus teach us: When we look at ourselves, we should not see ourselves from the outward, physical perspective. We should look at ourselves at the deepest level, as a veritable part of G-d Above. What is my essential self as a Jew? I am a Jew, and you are a Jew. So every Jew, by virtue of being a Jew, is a veritable part of G-d Above. We are truly brothers, one being, and therefore the love is essential. That is the idea of Jewish unity. When we understand this, we can come to Ahavas Yisroel. Now comes the time to love—to love the Jew. I love you, so I treat you with respect, and I do you a favor. I do it with love, with feeling, with genuine pleasure. That is the expression of Ahavas Yisroel. This also answers another question. Once we explain that Chassidus reveals the idea of Jewish unity, we might ask: Why does the Torah say, “Love your fellow as yourself”? Why doesn’t it say, “Unite with your fellow as yourself”—Jewish unity? Why, then, does the Torah say “love”? When we think about it, love seems to be a much lower level than unity. Sometimes the word “love” implies the opposite of unity. Unity means that we are essentially one

25:48 being. Love means that there are two people: there is me and there is you, and I love you. Yes, it is hard to use the word “love” about oneself; it is not quite the right word. When we speak about the self, the self is the self—it is one. Love is for someone else: treating that person with love, loving that person. So love implies that there are two people and one loves the other. Why doesn’t the Torah say something deeper: unite, rather than merely love? What is more, love is an emotion. Love is a feeling in the heart: “I love you.” It is a kind of feeling. Unity, as we said, is not a feeling; it is much more than that. Unity means that we are essentially one. It is not a question of what I feel or how I feel. We are one by our very nature. So why does the Torah say “love”? Here the Rebbe says something wonderful. In the Torah, we see two aspects. One thing we see with the Torah’s mitzvos is that the mitzvos relate to the more practical side. Many mitzvos in the Torah have an underlying idea, but the mitzvah is the actual thing we are meant to do. The Torah commands us what to do. The root of the matter, the idea behind it, is not the Torah’s command. That is something a Jew must work on within himself, to reach the root of the matter. Let’s give an example: prayer, the mitzvah of prayer. There are several opinions about what the mitzvah of prayer entails. But if we follow the Rambam’s view, that prayer is a Torah obligation, what exactly is the mitzvah? The idea behind the mitzvah of prayer is that a Jew must know that everything belongs to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and therefore I ask Him for everything. There is the underlying idea—service of the heart, a Jew’s connection with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. But the mitzvah

28:00 Of prayer is to speak, to converse, to say the words, to pray. That is the mitzvah of prayer. A Jew needs to say the words of the prayer aloud, and in that way fulfills the mitzvah of prayer. We can find many mitzvos that work this way, and this also helps explain Ahavas Yisroel. The root of Ahavas Yisroel is unity. That is its source, its foundation. But Ahavas Yisroel itself is something we do in practice: loving, drawing someone close, and behaving with love. That is the mitzvah. Here, though, the Rebbe added another wonderful point, one that teaches us something very important for daily life. Sometimes, if we stop at Jewish unity alone, we can make a serious mistake in fulfilling the mitzvah of Ahavas Yisroel. If I feel the “as yourself” without the “you shall love”—if I focus only on our unity, on the fact that we are all one in essence, all one being, with one Father, one essence, a part of G-d above—then precisely because we are so completely one, I may treat someone else the way I treat myself. We see that sometimes a person doesn’t take such good care of himself; he doesn’t mind going without things. I might say, “For myself, I can do without. I don’t need all sorts of things.” Some people are more ascetic. Some serve Hashem in particular ways, while someone else isn’t at the same level. But because we are one, one body, one reality, I might try to love the other person exactly as I love myself. If I make extremely strict demands of myself, I’ll make the same demands of him. If I don’t need certain things, then he doesn’t need them either—after all, we’re one. So here the Torah comes along

30:09 and says: No, no, no, no. Fulfilling the mitzvah is the “you shall love.” Unity is its root and its reason. But in practice, in daily life, you need to know that the other person is not you. He has his own needs, his own level, and his own place in life. This can be true of material things, and it can also be true of spiritual things. Perhaps this Jew is not yet aware of things you know, did not receive the education you received, and does not yet have the tools you have on various levels. And of course, this applies to material things too. His wishes may be different. So when you come to fulfill “You shall love your fellow as yourself,” let there be love. Ask what the other person needs and how he needs it. See his needs from within his world; meet him where he is. Then you will truly respect him, relate to him, help him, and give him what he actually needs. This is the wonderful explanation of how to bring the mitzvah of “You shall love your fellow as yourself” into daily life—how we should look at every single Jew in the world, regardless of his behavior. “You shall love your fellow as yourself”: an intrinsic love, a love rooted in the fact that, in essence, we are all one. And at the same time, “you shall love”: a bond of love, affection, and respect. By working on ourselves, making an effort, and awakening genuine Ahavas Yisroel—particularly in our times—we will come to sincere, true love. We will look at every Jew beyond his behavior, beyond what appears on the outside, and look directly and deeply into his essence, into his soul, into the actual part of G-d above within him. Then we can truly bring out the genuine love and unity within the Jewish people. This will be the immediate preparation, for our Sages tell us that Ahavas Yisroel is what will bring the Redeemer,

32:20 and may we merit the true and complete Geulah speedily in our days, with the entire Jewish people as one people, one nation on earth. May we bring the complete Geulah in the Holy Land, speedily in our days. Amen, may it be His will.