I was reading these words–V’ahavta et Adonai Elohecha–and my thought-stream bifurcated, one mind reading the words while another interpreted them. This latter stream split once more, one thinking literally–You shall love the Lord your God–while the other spun off in metaphorical delight–if God exists in all persons, in all things, to love God means to love his creations–our human family and all the earth.
And it struck me in that one moment, my mind suspended on three interwoven yet competing thoughts, that all these years I have thought of love as a feeling, that all these years I have forgotten love is as much an action as fear.
I teased today’s teaching last week when I explained my recent absence from writing and today I bring it back, but before we get to it, I offer a question to consider: What is wisdom? Who is wise? And why would–or would not–wisdom last over time?
It may be beneficial to take a moment to think thoroughly of these things before reading onward, but if you’d rather rush ahead, that’s okay, too–just keep all these thoughts in mind for later.
I don’t think I’ve ever done this before, but I’m doing it now: I’m spending two weeks on the same mishneh, the same teaching. I hadn’t thought I’d be able to say so much on it, hadn’t expected it at all, but I got so carried away in my talk of prayers that I left no room for a further discussion on evil and identity. But perhaps that was for the best. Maybe we should keep our prayers away from what’s evil. But maybe we’ll see otherwise.