A Thought for Parshat Va'etchanan: How Could We Not Love Hashem?

"What are you doing these days?" Mrs. Cohen asked an old friend after they had both retired.

"I'm a race car driver," her friend replied with a smile.

"A race car driver? At your age?" Mrs. Cohen asked in surprise.

"Of course," her friend answered. "I drive my grandchildren wherever they need to go, and they're thrilled."

Can the Torah Command Love?

One of the best known questions about the Torah appears in this week's parsha, in the first paragraph of Kriat Shema:

"And you shall love Hashem your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might."

Rashi explains each phrase:

"With all your heart" means with both your inclinations.

"With all your soul" means even if it costs you your life.

"With all your might" refers to all your wealth. The righteous also explain that "might" includes anything especially precious to a person, anything that would be difficult to give up. Even that should be surrendered out of love for Hashem.

This raises a famous question.

The Torah can command actions. It can instruct us what to do and what to avoid. But how can it command an emotion? How can someone be told to love? And what is a person supposed to do if they simply do not feel that love?

Many answers have been offered throughout the generations. While they may satisfy the intellect, they do not always speak to the heart, the very thing being commanded.

A beautiful parable shared by the holy gaon Rabbi Yosef Chaim of Baghdad, the Ben Ish Chai, helps illuminate a remarkable insight that transforms the question entirely.

The Orphan Who Never Forgot to Say Thank You

Ephraim was only eight years old when he lost his parents.

A wealthy man named Zevulun took him into his home and raised him alongside his own son, Tzvi, who was the same age. He clothed them alike, cared for them equally, and treated Ephraim as if he were his own child.

Over time, Zevulun's wife, Leah, noticed something striking.

Every meal that Ephraim received was met with heartfelt gratitude. Every clean garment, every act of kindness, every expression of care brought another sincere "thank you."

Tzvi, however, rarely thanked his parents. Even when his mother cleared his plate or cared for his needs, he saw it as completely natural.

Leah could not understand the difference.

Zevulun explained that Ephraim recognized each kindness as a gift, while Tzvi viewed everything as something he was automatically entitled to receive.

Still, Leah remained unconvinced.

Finally, with her agreement, Zevulun decided to teach them both a lesson.

One day he called the boys together.

"The Torah obligates me to support my children only until the age of six," he told them. "You are both older than that. From today, I owe you nothing. Take a small bag with a few clothes and a little money, and go make your own way."

For an entire week, the boys depended on the kindness of strangers for food and a place to sleep.

Then Zevulun sent servants to bring them home.

From that day forward, Tzvi changed completely.

Every bowl of soup, every clean shirt, every small act of kindness was met with heartfelt appreciation. What he had once taken for granted, he now recognized as an extraordinary gift.

Seeing Hashem's Gifts

Rabbi Yisrael of Chortkov offered a beautiful understanding of the verse.

"With all your heart." Hashem gives every person a beating heart that sends life throughout the body. We rarely stop to think what even a few missed heartbeats could mean.

"With all your soul." Hashem gives us life itself, along with hopes, dreams, desires, challenges, and the ability to choose. These are what give life purpose and meaning.

"With all your might." Everything a person treasures, including livelihood, possessions, and blessings, ultimately comes from the Creator.

We often treat these gifts as obvious, as though they simply belong to us.

But if we pause for a moment, we realize that none of them are guaranteed.

Every breath, every heartbeat, every opportunity is a gift that Hashem continually gives with endless kindness.

A Different Question

Perhaps this is the deeper meaning of the commandment to love Hashem.

The Torah is not asking us to manufacture an emotion that does not exist.

Rather, it invites us to notice what Hashem is already doing for us.

He guides us through life, provides us with strength, sustains us, blesses us, and gives us countless gifts each day, many of which we barely notice.

Once we truly recognize that everything we have comes from Him, the question is no longer, "How can the Torah command us to love Hashem?"

Instead, a different question naturally emerges:

How could we possibly not love Him?