We live in an age defined by songs, slogans, hashtags, and status updates. Boruch Hashem, many in Klal Yisroel have found ways to use these tools to enhance their avodas Hashem. But there is a downside: We may find ourselves emotionally moved by the lyrics and phrases, yet forget to think deeply about the avodah they’re meant to inspire.
Take the popular hit, “Hashem Yitbarach tamid ohev oti.” It’s a beautiful message. Hashem does love us—more than we can possibly imagine. But the real question is: Do we love Hashem? As we approach the joyous day of our spiritual marriage with the Torah (Taanis 22b), we must reflect on the meaning of that love and what it demands of us.
The Rambam (Sefer Hamitzvos, Mitzvas Aseh 3) teaches that the mitzvah of ahavas Hashem isn’t about harboring a vague feeling of love. The way to truly love Hashem is through immersing oneself in Torah until it becomes a source of joy. The Sifri (Devorim 6:5) points out that this is explicit in Shema: “When it says one must love Hashem, one wouldn’t know how to do that. So the Torah says immediately afterward, ‘Vehayu hadevorim ha’eileh…al levavecha.’” The Sefer Hachinuch (Mitzvah 418) adds that only through deep and focused limud haTorah does ahavas Hashem become engraved in a person’s heart. Clearly, true love for Hashem is attained through learning His Torah.
And this isn’t just a “Litvishe” perspective. The Avnei Neizer (Abir Haro’im, Vol. 1, ch. 110) would often cite his father-in-law, the holy Kotzker, who said that the most authentic form of deveikus is through the Torah. The Kotzker explained that because the world’s limud haTorah had become diminished, the Baal Shem Tov needed to forge a new path in avodas Hashem. Still, the Torah remains the primary way to bond with Hashem. Rav Menachem Mendel of Rimanov (Bais Menachem, ch. 5:2) would often urge his chassidim to learn Torah b’iyun, testifying that every tzaddik of his generation had reached their lofty spiritual levels through intensive limud haTorah.
In fact, the Mesilas Yeshorim (ch. 18) writes that Torah study is the very foundation of Chassidus. The root of true Chassidus lies in being ameil baTorah. He compares it to a marriage: If a husband so much as hints that he wants something, a loving wife does everything she can to fulfill his wish. This, he explains, is the meaning of the Gemara (Brachos 17a), “Ashrei mi she’amalo baTorah v’oseh nachas ruach l’yotzro.” When one pores over every word of Torah with focused passion, it can only be because he loves Hashem and wants, with every fiber of his being, to understand His will.
This deep ahavah isn’t just a motivating factor in our learning. It’s essential to fusing ourselves with the Torah. The Chazon Ish (Igros, Vol. 1, #8) writes poetically that “the strings that tie the Torah to the heart are what we call ahavah.” My rebbi, Rav Yitzchok Hutner, takes this even further. He writes (Pachad Yitzchok, Chanukah, 6:11) that just as the human senses require a medium—sound travels via soundwaves, vision requires light—so does the mind connect through a medium: pleasure and love. Torah can only be absorbed when it is experienced with deep joy and affection. Love isn’t an enhancement to limud haTorah. It is intrinsic to the act of learning itself, just as light is intrinsic to vision. That is why one is commanded to learn the part of Torah that his heart desires (Avodah Zarah 19a).
Consider the fiery words of the Medrash Tanchuma (Noach #3): “For one cannot learn Torah Shebaal Peh [which requires great exertion] unless he loves Hashem with all his heart and soul… And anyone who loves wealth and luxury will not be able to learn Torah Shebaal Peh.” The Medrash is not excluding the wealthy from Torah. Chas v’shalom! Rather, it’s teaching that if a person’s love is drawn to other pursuits, he won’t access the sweetness and depth of Torah. Our connection to Torah is like that of a marriage. The term “kiddushin” itself denotes exclusivity (see Tosafos, Kiddushin 2b, d”h Asar). If one wishes to marry the Torah Hakedosha, he must be wholly devoted to her, without distractions.
That may be why we say the Hadran in contrastive language: “Anu ameilim v’heim ameilim… We are running to Olam Haba, they are running to destruction.” It seems jarring. Why compare ourselves to others in such negative terms? Isn’t it enough to focus on the uplifting path we are on? But there’s a deeper insight here. Daas implies both connection (Bereishis 4:25) and separation (Yerushalmi, Brachos 5:2). My rebbi, Rav Hutner (Pachad Yitzchok, Rosh Hashanah, Reshimah 1:5), resolves this paradox. He explains that full attachment inherently demands total separation from anything else. This concept is central to a successful marriage: The more one is devoted to their spouse, the more they remove their heart from outside distractions. That is why we emphasize not just what we are connected to, but also what we’ve rejected. By turning away from the noise of the world, we reinforce our intense, joyous bond with Hashem and His Torah.
To further illustrate the nature of this unique relationship, consider the words of Rav Chaim Volozhiner (Ruach Chaim 6:1), who quotes Shlomo Hamelech (Mishlei 25:17): Too much time in a friend’s home can spoil the relationship. But, he says, this only applies to ordinary friendships. In a marriage—a union of rei’im ahuvim—the opposite is true: The more time spent together, the deeper the love. And so it is with the Torah. The more we toil in her words, the more she clings to us. The relationship becomes ever more precious, ever more fulfilling.
This is the profound ahavah that is accessible to us on our wedding day, b’yom chasunaso, the day of Matan Torah. When we see or hear songs and slogans about Hashem’s love for us, let us remember that these are not platitudes. They reflect the eternal covenant forged at Matan Torah, when we married the Torah. As the Vilna Gaon writes in his commentary on Mishlei (31:10), Aishes Chayil is actually a song of praise for the Torah, our eternal bride.
This is a relationship that must be nurtured. We cannot take it for granted. The more time and energy we dedicate to Torah, the deeper and more delightful the connection becomes. The more we turn away from the glitz of the world and embrace the soft glow of Torah, the more we’ll feel enveloped by our beloved, the Torah Hakedosha. Each time we keep a seder in learning, each time we push ourselves to grasp a difficult blatt Gemara, we’re saying to Hashem, “I love You.”
And in turn, we will be zocheh to feel Hashem’s love for us, and to cleave to Him through His Torah.
A gut Yom Tov to all.
(Thanks to my son R’ Moshe for his input into this article.)
