VaEtchanan: The Two Well-Dressed Friends

Love the Eternal, your God, with all your heart, all your soul, and all your might.

—Deuteronomy 6:5

 

Sammy and Charles were both men of style—at least, at first glance. But as any tailor will tell you, it’s not just the fabric that makes the suit; it’s the man inside it.

Sammy worked in a high-profile firm where appearances mattered more than substance. His closet was lined with suits—sharp, expensive, the kind that make people take you seriously. And yet, he took no joy in them. If it were up to him, he’d live in faded jeans and a comfortable t-shirt, free from the tyranny of neckties and polished shoes. But he knew the rules. Dress down, and you might as well hand in your resignation.

Charles, on the other hand, was a true connoisseur of fashion. His closet was filled with dozens of fancy suits, elegant ties, fine shirts and shoes so shiny they could double as mirrors. Shopping for new clothes was his happy place. The man loved style.

Now, picture the two of them meeting a world-famous fashion designer. Sammy would eye the man like he was a sworn enemy. “If it weren’t for people like you, I’d be wearing sneakers right now,” he’d think.

Charles, though, would light up like a schoolboy meeting his idol. He’d shake the designer’s hand, admire the stitching on his lapels, and thank him for gifting the world with such artistry.

Serving God with Love

The difference between Sammy and Charles is the difference between serving God out of fear and serving Him out of love.

For those who serve out of fear, who keep mitzvot out of a sense of obligation, Torah can feel like a burden. Like Sammy, suffocating in his business suits, they do what is required, but their heart is elsewhere. They want to do the right thing, but deep down, they wonder: Wouldn’t life be easier with fewer rules, fewer expectations?

Then there are those who serve out of love for God. To them, mitzvot are not a weight but a privilege. Like Charles delighting in classy suits, they cherish every opportunity to draw closer to God. They see the Torah not as a list of demands but as a gift, a way to express the deepest longings of the soul. The commandment to love God “with all your heart, all your soul, and all your might” resonates deeply with them.

The Talmud says that a scholar who fails to recite the blessings of Birkat HaTorah before studying Torah will not have sons who are Torah scholars. Why? Because without sincere gratitude for the privilege of learning Torah, its teachings become dry, lifeless words. Only one who truly loves Torah and sees it as the greatest gift can pass that love on to the next generation.

(The Wit and Wisdom of the Dubno Maggid. Adapted from Meshalim Ve-gam Sipurim Le-no'ar ule-kol Beit Yisra'el, p. 57)