The word “Shavuot,” for many people, is associated with scrumptious cheesecake and other dairy delicacies, a long weekend in Deal, and beautiful weather. Of course, this is not what Shavuot is all about. We all know that Shavuot is the holiday the celebrates Matan Torah, the day when we received the Torah at Mount Sinai. But the true significance of this day runs even deeper.
Several times each day, we all read the famous command of ואהבת את ה' אלוקיך – “You shall love Hashem your G-d.” How exactly do we fulfill this mitzvah? What does the Torah mean when it instructs us to love Hashem?
The Rabbis give different interpretations of this mitzvah, and they are all correct. One explanation is that this refers to an emotion. We are to feel bonded with and connected to Hashem, just like we feel bonded with the people in our lives whom we truly love. Elsewhere, the Rabbis explain that this refers to making difficult sacrifices for the sake of Hashem when necessary, such as when we wish to do something that the Torah forbids and need to restrain ourselves, or if we are called upon to spend money or forfeit a profitable opportunity for the sake of a mitzvah.
But the Gemara also gives a different explanation of ואהבת את ה' אלוקיך, teaching that it requires us to make Hashem loved. This command means not only that we ourselves must love Hashem, but that we should live and deal with people in a way that makes them love G-d, love His Torah, and love His people.
Rabbis as “G-d”
I have spoken to dozens, if not hundreds, of people – both youngsters and adults – who have told me that they were turned off to religion because of a time when a Rabbi, a religious studies teacher, or a chassidic Jew they happened to meet, spoke to them or treated them inappropriately. The person may not have turned against religion altogether, but just can’t bring himself to be completely devoted because of a negative experience he had with a religious figure.
Why does this happen? This happens because, for some reason, people instinctively associate Rabbis and other religious figures with G-d Himself. In their minds, if a chassidic Jew cuts in front of them in line at the grocery store, or blocks their car, it means that Hashem Himself acts this way. If a Rabbi is mean to them, this means that Hashem is mean. And who wants to devote himself to a G-d who is mean? Of course, this makes no sense. The fact that a well-respected Rabbi isn’t nice, or is discovered to be a fraud or a criminal, says something about him, not about Hashem. But this is just the way people’s minds work. When they see or hear of a religious figure acting inappropriately, their conception of Hashem is affected, and they see Hashem Himself as being this way.
This is why I have always strongly felt that it is very important for Rabbis to be generally likeable people. Needless to say, there are always going to be people who fervently disagree with something or many things a Rabbi says, and perhaps even to the point of disliking the Rabbi. But in terms of character, Rabbis need to be especially likeable, because the way they act is seen as a reflection of who Hashem is. If they act kindly and courteously, and people like them, then people will like Hashem.
The Gemara tells that there was a princess named Timna who lived in the times of Avraham Avinu. She wanted to join the distinguished family of our avot (patriarchs), but, for whatever reason, they did not accept her. The closest she was able to get was to marry Elifaz, the son of Esav, who was Avraham Avinu’s grandson. Timna and Elifaz had a son named Amalek, the founder of the nation that became our chief nemesis, our main adversary for centuries. The avos assuredly had a legitimate reason not to want to Timna to marry into the family, but this rejection produced generations’ worth of hatred and hostility towards the Jewish People. This is the power – and the responsibility – that religious figures have. If they hurt or upset somebody, even inadvertently, that person can easily become hostile to Judaism and to the Jewish Nation.
But this command of ואהבת את ה' אלוקיך is not only directed to Rabbis. All of us bear this obligation. We need to give off beautiful vibes, a beautiful aura. We are to come across as happy, pleasant, respectful and dignified people, as the kind of people that others like and admire. We are to be the kind of people that make Torah life seem wonderful and special. This is how we make Hashem loved by people, which is what we are commanded to do.
A Chair at the Meeting for the Driver
Rav Aharon Kotler was one of the most influential religious figures in the history of American Jewry. In 1941, he began the Lakewood yeshiva with a group of fifteen students. At that time, the idea of establishing a European-style yeshiva on American soil seemed utterly absurd. But today, the yeshiva numbers some 7,000 students, making it the largest yeshiva in the world.
A number of stories told by Rav Kotler’s students give us some idea of how he was able to succeed in this otherwise impossible mission, and why he was so influential. These stories also give us a clearer idea of how to fulfill the obligation of ואהבת את ה' אלוקיך, acting in a way that evokes love for Hashem.
As a leader and architect of Torah Jewry in the United States, Rav Kotler often attended meetings with other Rabbis and with lay leaders to discuss the issues of the day and strategize. Whenever he went to a meeting, he brought a book with him. He realized that he would most likely end up waiting and having a few minutes here and there at certain points, and so, not wanting to waste any time, he always had a book in hand in order to use every available moment for Torah learning. However, it is told that there was one “meeting” to which he did not bring a book. He had a sister who was not religiously observant, and who had uneasy feelings toward religion. When she was sick, Rav Kotler went to visit her – but without a book. He knew how she felt about religion, and he did not want to make her feel uncomfortable by bringing a book of Torah into the room. This is the kind of sensitivity he had, and how seriously he took his responsibility to present a positive image of Torah life.
On one occasion, he attended a meeting together with other prominent Torah scholars and lay leaders of that time to discuss an urgent matter involving Torah education in the recently-founded State of Israel. After he entered the room and sat down, he asked that another chair be brought. People wondered why he requested another chair, considering that everyone invited to the meeting was already in attendance, and they were all seated. He explained that he needed a chair for his driver. A 19-year-old yeshiva student had driven him to the meeting, and Rav Kotler demanded that he be allowed to come into the room and sit down.
“A yeshiva student should not be treated like a wagon-driver,” he said. Even though this student was just 19 years old, Rav Kotler insisted on treating him with respect and inviting him into the meeting together with the prominent leaders of American Torah Jewry.
One student told that when Pesach vacation came around, there were some students who were not able to return to their homes for the holiday, and so Rav Kotler hosted them in his home. This boy recalled how one year, he stayed at the Kotler home for Pesach vacation, and slept on the couch in the living room. Before he fell asleep, he overheard Rav Kotler talking to his wife in the kitchen. Rav Kotler told his wife that maybe their guest should be given two pillows, instead of just one, so he could sleep more comfortably. His wife said it would be inappropriate for her to walk into the living room while the guest was sleeping there, so Rav Kotler himself went to get another pillow, and he then tiptoed over to the couch and placed an extra pillow alongside the student, who was pretending to be asleep.
These kinds of simple gestures reflect the kind of person he was, and the way he lived his life.
Rav Aharon Kotler was also known for being a fiery personality, who was passionate and adamant about authentic Torah tradition. Indeed, as we know, many Rabbis and other Torah Jews, alongside their kind, gentle, sensitive nature, can sometimes come across as tough. They speak passionately about Torah values, and express strong opposition to ideas and practices that they feel are at odds with Torah life.
These two sides of their personalities are not contradictory at all. Rather, they form the two basic components of a Torah personality.
If we would ask, “What does a Torah Jew look like?” what kind of people we are meant to be, the answer would be these two elements. We are to be firmly committed to our beliefs and convictions, and to interact with all people in a way that brings honor and admiration for our beliefs and convictions. We are to love Hashem so much that we passionately uphold His laws and His principles, and also passionately try to inspire people to love Him. This is what a Torah Jew is.
Naomi and נעימות
And this is what Shavuot is all about. It’s about celebrating the opportunity we are given to live in this beautiful way – to live as a Torah Jew, which means living in a way that leads people to love Hashem.
We know this is what Shavuot is about because this is what Megilat Rut – the book read on Shavuot – is all about.
Megilat Rut tells the fascinating story of Naomi, who was married to a very wealthy man, Elimelech. During a period of drought in Eretz Yisrael, Elimelech brought the family to the neighboring country of Moav, and their two sons married Moavite women. Elimelech and his two sons died, leaving Naomi alone and impoverished. She decided to return to Eretz Yisrael, and Rut, the widow of one of her sons, insisted on joining her. Even though she was not Jewish, and knew nothing about life as a Jewish woman, and despite the fact that she would not have any money with which to live, and would likely never be able to marry, Rut refused to stay in Moav, and was adamant in her desire to join Naomi.
Why did Rut insist on going back with Naomi to her uncertain future, to join her in her life of loneliness and poverty? It does not seem that this was done out of religious conviction, after learning about Hashem and Torah and being convinced that this is what she wanted to do. In what is likely the most famous pesukim in Megilat Rut, she tells Naomi, “Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you sleep, I will sleep; your nation is my nation, and your G-d is my G-d. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried… Only death shall separate between me and you.” It is clear that Rut’s goal and desire at this point was not to become Jewish, but to be with Naomi. Why?
The answer has to with Naomi’s name. The name נעמי comes from the word נעים, or נעימה in the feminine form, which means “pleasant.” Rut was drawn by Naomi’s נעימות, her pleasantness.
Naomi went from being a wealthy woman and a proud wife and mother to being alone and penniless. Her entire world collapsed. She went from sky high to rock bottom. She had nothing at all. And yet, all throughout, she remained נעמי – pleasant and kind. She did not allow her personal troubles to make her bitter and angry. She was always pleasant. She lived the way a Torah Jew should live, in a way that makes people love Hashem. People who knew her admired her and admired what she stood for and represented. They admired her nation and her faith. This is the ultimate fulfillment of ואהבת את ה' אלוקיך – living in a way that makes people love Hashem.
This is why we read the story of Naomi and Rut on Shavout. On this day when we celebrate Matan Torah, we celebrate the great privilege we have to live a Torah life. We lovingly embrace the great challenge of living up to this standard, of creating a beautiful personality and character that naturally influences the people around us. This is the commitment we reaffirm on Shavuot, and this is why we joyously celebrate – because we have this challenge and this privilege.
On Shavuot we are to commit ourselves to be the kind of people whom other people look at and say, “I want to be like him/her!” We are to commit to being like Naomi – composed and upbeat regardless of the situation, sensitive, kind, warm and compassionate. We are to strive to be the kind of people that make Torah life seem wonderful and special, that inspire and attract the people around us, just as Naomi inspired and attracted Rut to join her.
Digging for More
The Mishnah in PIrkeh Avot teaches, הפוך בה והפוך בה דכולה בה – “Dig in it and dig in it, for everything is within it.” It later instructs, וסיב ובלה בה – to continue engaging in Torah even in old age.
The Torah gives us the guidelines for how to live a beautiful life, for how to live in a meaningful, inspiring and impactful way. And thus we are urged to continually “dig” in Torah, to constantly study it so we can learn more and more. The process never ends. The more we learn, the more we unearth valuable lessons and teachings for living a life of נעימות, a life of “pleasantness” that has a positive effect upon the people around us, like Naomi did. The more Torah we learn, the better able we are to live a beautiful Torah life.
In conclusion, it is worth sharing one final story about Rav Aharon Kotler – which is perhaps the most fascinating and remarkable story of all.
During the Holocaust, Rav Kotler learned that there were 24 Rabbis who were stuck in Italy and needed to be rescued and brought to the United States. He summoned Mr. Irving Bunim, an influential lay leader of American Jewry at that time who had a very close relationship with Rav Kotler, and Rav Kotler asked him if he knew what could be done to rescue these 24 Rabbis.
Mr. Bunim said there was only one person he could think of who might be able to help – a mafia boss named Joe Benano. Without flinching, Rav Kotler said that they needed to go see Mr. Benano.
They came into Mr. Benano’s office. What a strange scene it was. We cannot possibly imagine two worlds further apart than the world of Rav Aharon Kotler and the world of an Italian mobster. Yet here they were, together in an office.
The scene got even stranger when Rav Kotler started talking to Mr. Benano…in Yiddish. He went on and on, speaking passionately about the plight of this group of Rabbis in Italy – and Mr. Benano obviously did not understand one word.
Finally, Mr. Bunim interrupted Rav Kotler and offered to translate what he had just said. But Mr. Benano stopped him, and said he wanted the Rabbi to continue.
“I want to hear the Rabbi talk,” he said. “I like his energy and passion.”
And so Rav Kotler kept going, with fire in his eyes and passion in his voice.
When he finished, Mr. Bunim explained to Mr. Benano what Rav Kotler was saying, that there were 24 Rabbis stuck in Italy who needed help.
Mr. Benano replied, “Does he want them transported by plane or by boat?”
He unconditionally agreed to help. After they worked out the arrangements, Rav Kotler asked Mr. Benano how much it would cost.
“It won’t cost you a thing,” he said. “All I ask is that you give me a blessing.”
How does one bless a mafia boss? Rav Kotler knew exactly what to say: “May you die in your bed.” Meaning, he should die naturally, in old age, and not be killed.
Mr. Benano loved the blessing and warmly thanked the Rabbi.
The story goes that over twenty yeas later, in 1964, a large, black stretch limo pulled up in front of the Lakewood yeshiva, and a couple of men came out of the car and started asking for the “Rabbi.” After they spoke to several students, it became clear that they were looking for Rav Aharon Kotler. The students were astonished, and they told the men that the Rabbi had passed away a couple of years earlier. The men were very upset to hear the news.
They explained that the Rabbi had given their father a blessing that he should die in his bed, but he was just shot and was in the hospital. They wanted another blessing.
Rav Aharon’s son was called, and he came and gave a blessing for their father. Sure enough, he recovered, and he died at the age of 80 – in his bed.
Rav Aharon Kotler was such a perfect Torah Jew, so much like Naomi, that even somebody who could not possibly be any different from him, or further away from a Torah life, could not help but be impressed and affected by him.
This is what we celebrate on Shavuot. We celebrate the great gift of the Torah which shows us how to live this way, in a way that brings honor and admiration for Hashem and for His nation. And we reaffirm our commitment to continue “digging,” to learn more and more so we can continue growing and live the kind of life that we are supposed to live, the kind of life that makes a kiddush Hashem, bringing glory to Hashem wherever we go and whatever we do.