Perhaps in Torah study, we might gravitate towards the sections we deem most profound, while overlooking what seems simpler. But what if that "simpler" stuff holds the very key to… well, everything?
Sifrei Devarim, a text of halakhic midrash on the Book of Deuteronomy, raises exactly this point. It quotes Deuteronomy 32:47, "For it is not an empty thing from you.” The text cautions, lest we be tempted to learn only the "formidable" sections and neglect the seemingly simple ones. Don’t think, "Oh, I’ll just learn this fascinating passage and skip that one." It's written "For if you keep, keep, all of this mitzvah": keep it all!
Because, as Sifrei Devarim explains, what seems empty, is only empty because of you. What you’re calling "empty" is actually "your lives" and your "length of days." It's about wholeness. It's about not short-changing ourselves.
And it's not enough to say, "I've learned the halakhot; that's enough for me." Halakhot (laws) are vital, but it’s only one part of the story. So the text repeats, “If you keep, keep, all of this mitzvah.” Learn all of the mitzvah – midrash (interpretive stories), halakhot, and aggadot (anecdotal teachings). It's all connected. Each form of learning enriches the others.
The text beautifully illustrates this with a verse from Deuteronomy 8:3: "to make it known to you that not through bread alone shall a man live." Here, "bread" is equated with midrash. But what truly sustains us? "But by all that issues from the mouth of the L-rd shall a man live": These, says the text, are halakhot and aggadot. It's a balanced diet of spiritual nourishment, not just one course.
And this brings us to a powerful, almost parental, image. Proverbs 27:11 says, "Grow wise, my son, and rejoice my heart, and I will answer my shamers in kind," and Proverbs 23:15 echoes, "My son, when your heart becomes wise, then my heart, too, will rejoice." Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai takes this idea even further. Yes, it speaks to a father on Earth rejoicing in his son's wisdom. But what about our Father in Heaven? From "my heart, too, shall rejoice" we derive that this joy extends upwards, to include our Father in Heaven.
Think about that for a moment. Our learning, our growth, our commitment to the whole tapestry of Torah – it brings joy not only to those around us, but also, in a profound and perhaps unfathomable way, to the Divine.
It’s a powerful reminder: There are no "empty" spaces in Torah. Only opportunities waiting to be discovered. Perhaps the very thing we’re tempted to skip over is exactly what we need to truly flourish. It’s a call to embrace the fullness of our tradition, to find the interconnectedness of all its parts. What aspect of your tradition have you been overlooking? What hidden joy might it hold?