A More Satisfying Life

We live in a time of increasing disconnection.
There are many reasons for this:

  • The addictive and often isolating effects of social media.
  • The lingering emotional toll of the COVID-19 pandemic—especially the loneliness, anxiety, and uncertainty it brought.
  • A political discourse that’s grown coarser, more divisive, and less compassionate.

Whatever the causes, the effects are deeply concerning.

Recent Gallup “well-being” surveys show that overall life satisfaction is at a 25-year low in America, with the steepest decline among those under 30. We are lonelier. More anxious. Less hopeful about the future. And perhaps most tragically, less empathetic.

But our tradition offers us a path forward.

At the very heart of the Torah—both literally and spiritually—is a verse from this week’s parasha, K’doshim, that holds the power to transform our relationships, our communities, and even our inner lives:

לֹֽא־תִקֹּ֤ם וְלֹֽא־תִטֹּר֙ אֶת־בְּנֵ֣י עַמֶּ֔ךָ וְאָֽהַבְתָּ֥ לְרֵעֲךָ֖ כָּמ֑וֹךָ אֲנִ֖י יְהֹוָֽה׃

You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against your people. Love your fellow as yourself: I am Adonai.
(Leviticus 19:18)

This verse is among the most famous in the Bible. Rabbi Akiva called it the essence of Torah. And in the New Testament, Jesus taught that all of the Torah and the Prophets rest upon this commandment—and upon the call to love God with all one’s heart, soul, and might.

The Hasidic master, Rabbi Moshe Leib of Sasov, shared a beautiful teaching to help us understand what this verse demands of us. He tells of two friends sharing drinks at a tavern. After a while, one turns to the other and asks, “My friend, do you truly love me?”

“Of course I do,” the other replies.

“Then tell me,” the first says, “what do I lack?”

In that moment, Rabbi Moshe Leib said, he learned that you can only truly love someone if you know what they lack.

That’s what love really is: the deep, attentive, compassionate act of seeing one another—of noticing what’s missing, what’s hurting, what’s needed.

I know from personal experience—and I imagine many of you do as well—how deeply fulfilled we feel when we gather in community. When we sit together. Share a meal. Listen to each other’s stories. When we learn what someone else lacks, and offer what we can to help.

This is what it means to love your neighbor as yourself.

This is what it means to love God.

This is the essence of Torah.

And it’s also the path to a more meaningful, connected, and satisfying life.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yoshi