"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might" (Deuteronomy 6:5). It's a commandment to feel something, to direct the entire force of your being towards the Divine. But how do we even begin to unpack that?
The Rabbis, as always, had some thoughts. Devarim Rabbah, our text today, delves into this very question. What does it truly mean to love God with "all your heart, with all your soul"?
One interpretation suggests it means with each and every soul God created for you. Every aspect of the soul, represented by its many facets. The Etz Yosef commentary elaborates on this idea, linking it to the five names of the soul.
Rabbi Meir takes it a step further. He says that for each and every breath that a person takes, we are obligated to laud our Creator. Where does he get this idea? From Psalms 150:6: "Let everyone who breathes praise the Lord." Rabbi Meir brilliantly interprets the phrase "everyone who breathes [kol haneshama]" to mean "for every breath [kol neshima]". Each breath, a tiny act of praise.
Rabbi Simon gives us a glimpse into the complexity of the soul. He tells us the soul is called by five names: Ruach (spirit), Nefesh (being), Neshama (soul), Chaya (life), and Yechida (the unique one). These aren't just synonyms, but rather different dimensions of our inner selves.
The Rabbis then present a beautiful analogy. Come and see, they say, that just as God fills the world, the soul fills the body. God bears the world, and the soul bears the body. God is One in the world, and the soul is one in the body. God doesn't sleep, and the soul doesn't sleep. God is pure, and the soul is pure. God sees but is not seen, and the soul sees but is not seen.
It’s a powerful parallel. So, let the soul that sees but is not seen come and laud the Holy One, who sees but is not seen.
But then comes a poignant question from Israel: "Master of the universe, this soul that lauds you, until when will it be placed in the dust?" Until when will the soul have to endure the physical body? Or, as the Etz Yosef and Anaf Yosef commentaries suggest, until when will the soul be held back from achieving its potential due to the hardships of life? "Our soul is stooped in the dust" (Psalms 44:26). It's a cry of longing, a yearning for something more.
And the Holy One responds with a promise: "As you live, the End will come, and your souls will rejoice." That is why Isaiah comforts them and says: "I will be gladdened in the Lord; my soul will exult in my God" (Isaiah 61:10).
Rabbi Berekhya takes us in another direction, exploring the intimate relationship between God and Israel through the metaphor of bride and groom. He points out that in ten places, God calls Israel "bride." We find these instances scattered throughout the Song of Songs, Isaiah, and Jeremiah. "With Me from Lebanon, My bride" (Song of Songs 4:8); "I came to My garden, My sister, My bride" (Song of Songs 5:1); "like the gladness of a groom with a bride" (Isaiah 62:5).
Corresponding to these ten endearments, Israel adorns the Holy One with ten garments [levushin] of praise. These "garments" are actually metaphors found in Job, Isaiah, Daniel, and Psalms, where God's attributes are described using clothing imagery. "He donned [vayilbash] righteousness like armor" (Isaiah 59:17); "His garment was like white snow" (Daniel 7:9); "The Lord reigns; He is clothed [lavesh] in grandeur" (Psalms 93:1).
Finally, the text concludes with a parable, drawing from the Pesikta deRav Kahana and Shir HaShirim Rabba. It speaks of a woman whose husband, son, and son-in-law have gone overseas, and her eventual joy upon their return. This joy mirrors the rejoicing of the soul in God.
So, what do we take away from all this? Perhaps it's this: Loving God is not a single act, but a continuous process. It's in every breath, in every facet of our soul, in the intimate relationship we cultivate through praise and devotion. And even in moments of hardship and yearning, there is the promise of future joy and fulfillment. Can we truly embrace that promise?