We often talk about performing mitzvot, good deeds, commandments. But what's the engine that drives us? What should it be? Sifrei Devarim, in its characteristic insightful way, tackles this very question head-on.
It all revolves around the verse in Deuteronomy (6:5), the very heart of the Shema: "to love the L-rd your G-d." But why is this so crucial?
Sifrei Devarim (Devarim, Ibid. 13) explains that it’s there to prevent a potential pitfall. Imagine someone saying, "I'll study Torah to get rich, to be called ‘Rebbi’ (teacher), or to earn a big reward in the World to Come." Sounds… transactional, doesn't it? The text makes it clear: "All that you do shall be out of love alone."
Love. Ahavah. It's a game-changer. It transforms rote action into something meaningful, something infused with intention.
But what about service? The verse continues, "and to serve Him." What does that mean? Is it just about the Temple service, the sacrifices?
Sifrei Devarim pushes us further. “This is learning.” Learning is a form of service, Avodah. How so? The text anticipates the pushback: "But perhaps it is service, literally.” To address this, it brings a fascinating prooftext from Genesis (2:15): "And the L-rd G-d took the man and placed him in the Garden of Eden to serve it and to guard it."
Think about that for a moment. What “service” was there in the Garden of Eden before the concept of sacrifices even existed? What “guarding” was required in that pristine, pre-fall paradise?
The answer, according to Sifrei Devarim, is that "serving" here means learning – specifically, learning the "seven mitzvot of the sons of Noah," the universal moral code. And "guarding" refers to the doing of mitzvot in general. So, the text concludes, just as the sacrificial service of the altar is called "service," so too, learning is called "service."
It's a powerful connection. It elevates learning to a form of worship. We're not just accumulating knowledge, we're actively engaging with the Divine will, participating in the ongoing unfolding of creation.
So, the next time you open a book, engage in study, or perform any mitzvah, ask yourself: What’s my motivation? Am I acting out of love, or something else? Am I truly serving, or just going through the motions?
It’s a question worth pondering, a question that can transform our actions from obligations into acts of profound devotion.