GOOD MORNING! A few weeks ago I was studying with a young man who was struggling with some of the more esoteric observances in Judaism. He mentioned one of the more inscrutable mitzvot (commandments) with which he was conflicted, and then said, “Rabbi, c’mon. Does God really care if I do that?”

My initial reaction to his question was, “If it appears in the Torah then I guarantee you that God really cares.” My young friend accepted that approach, because the observance with which he was struggling was in fact an explicit verse in the Torah. But upon further reflection I realized that my answer – at least in part – was erroneous.

I have heard this very question asked in many different ways since I was a child. When my family first moved to Miami Beach in the mid-1970’s there wasn’t a whole lot for kid who didn’t want to go to camp to do during the summer. My grandfather, of blessed memory, used to walk on the golf course every day right after sunrise. He would find all sorts of golf balls that had been hit into bushes or trees and he’d collect them.

One day he asked me if wanted them. He suggested that perhaps I could make a business out of it by going to the golf course during the day and sitting next to “water” holes (where mediocre golfers tended to lose their balls), and see if anyone was interested in buying an extra ball. Sure enough, I went to the golf course and started talking and engaging the golfers and a new business was born.

To my surprise, a very large percentage of the golfers were Jewish and they were both a little surprised and impressed to see an industrious ten-year-old boy with a yarmulka (skullcap) selling golf balls. I received loads of unsolicited advice like, “If you wash the balls first, then you’ll sell more” (which ended up being true) and “If you stand with your shoulders back and your spine straight you’ll grow tall.” I ended up growing to six feet, but I cannot honestly tell you that it had anything to do with how I stood. I also received some good natured ribbing: “You really need to wait till the balls stop rolling before collecting them” (though I wasn’t the one collecting them).

They even told relevant jokes: The rabbi was a neophyte golfer. As he approached a hazardous hole with a green surrounded by water he debated if he should use his new golf ball. Deciding that the hole was too treacherous, he pulled out an old ball and placed it on the tee. Just then he heard a booming voice from above, “Use the new ball!” Thus heartened, he replaced the old ball with the new and approached the tee. Now the voice from above commanded, “Take a practice swing!” The rabbi stepped back and took a swing.

Feeling more confident, he approached the tee when the voice again rang out, “Use the old ball!”

Anyway, for whatever reason, many of them made mention of my yarmulka (in the Miami of the 1970’s it was still uncommon to see a young boy wearing a yarmulka outside of the synagogue. In those days, Miami was still the “Deep South”). It quickly became clear to me that many of these golfers had attended Hebrew school in their youth. Whether it was plain guilt or some other reason, they often felt compelled to explain to me why they weren’t religious; “Because all God really cares about is being a good person – and that’s what I focus on.” That summer I must have heard ten different versions of the sentiment.

This all too common refrain of “What God really cares about…” to explain behavior that runs counter to God’s actual words in the Bible is, at the very least, somewhat hypocritical. In general, trying to divine what the Almighty “really cares about” is a losing proposition. In fact, we have a teaching in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of our Fathers, a compilation of the wisdom of our sages distilled into principles of life and ethical behavior) that directly addresses this issue.

“Be as careful with a ‘minor’ mitzvah as with a ‘major’ one for you do not know the reward given for the mitzvot” (Pirkei Avot 2:1).

In other words, we might imagine that we can determine what is important to the Almighty by focusing on the presumptive reward for each commandment. This teaching tells us that even though we may perceive some of the commandments as “minor” and others as “major,” we cannot infer from that assessment the innate value of God’s commandments or what God “really cares” about.

We find a very similar idea in this week’s Torah portion.

“If you listen to these laws, safeguarding them and fulfilling them, then Hashem your Lord will guard the covenant that and the love with which He made an oath to your ancestors” (Deuteronomy 7:12).

Rashi, the great medieval Biblical commentator, interprets this verse in a rather surprising way. Rashi says that the laws referred to in this verse are those that we generally “trample underfoot.” In other words, this refers to those commandments – mitzvot – that we feel are insignificant.

Many have struggled to understand why Rashi is limiting the fulfillment discussed in the verse to those types of mitzvot. In fact, it seems contrary to the simple reading of the verse, which seems to imply all types of commandments. What compelled Rashi to explain the verse in this manner?

Consider for a moment that you received a call from your neighbor at 2 a.m. begging you to come right over because his wife had a medical emergency and has to be rushed to the hospital. They have young children sleeping and need someone to come over right away to stay with them. This actually happened to me. Even though I wasn’t particularly close with this family, I did what anyone in that situation would undoubtedly do; I responded in the affirmative and immediately rushed over there.

Now, imagine receiving a call at 2 a.m. from this very same neighbor, but instead he tells you that his pregnant wife has a sudden, intense craving for pickles and ice cream. He then asks you to go to the store to pick them up for her. In this scenario, you would hardly be as accommodating. In fact, you might just begin to wonder whether or not your neighbor has lost his mind, and you’d definitely question the long term viability of the friendship.

Yet, a wife has no qualms about asking her husband to get out of bed at 2 a.m. and pick up items that would satisfy her cravings. Why? The answer, of course, lies in the nature of the relationship. When you are closely connected to someone you can ask things of them that seem insignificant, but that show the strength of the bond. Of course, this is reciprocal and, if the situation were reversed, you would do the same for them.

Here is another way to understand this concept. Obviously, forgetting one’s wedding anniversary is one of the cardinal sins of marriage. A husband (and wife) must treat the day as a special occasion, perhaps buying a nice gift before spending the evening at a nice restaurant. This is a standard expectation.

Now consider a spouse who regularly leaves notes of appreciation or buys flowers for no specific occasion, just to express how much they cherish and appreciate their beloved. Writing short notes or giving flowers aren’t considered grand gestures. Yet, which would be considered a stronger indicator of the strength of the relationship; a very nice dinner once a year on an anniversary or notes and small gifts throughout the year for no specific reason other than to express one’s love?

Grand gestures aren’t necessarily a true barometer of the strength of the relationship, nor is responding to an expectation. We often go out of our way to help those in need, including complete strangers. But does contributing to a random stricken family’s “GoFundMe” page because of a heart wrenching newspaper story, or calling 911 after witnessing a car accident indicate any sort of close relationship? Hardly. That is the humanity within us, and it compels us to respond. It’s not about them; it’s about us.

While it is true that responding to a great need of someone that we care about is of extreme importance, the true measure of the depth of the relationship cannot be determined by that. A true relationship isn’t about responding to a great need, it’s about being tuned in to who they are and what they might appreciate receiving as an expression of our love. In a relationship the value of the gift isn’t determined by the price of what is given; it’s based on how the recipient feels about it.

This is also true in our relationship with the Almighty. Because, for the most part, He is unknowable, we cannot pretend to know “what he really cares about.” God alone decides the true value of our deeds. Therefore, when we follow His commandments, we don’t get to set the true worth of the individual mitzvah – we simply do them because that is His desire, and it’s the little things that count. In this way, our acts are out of love, not out of obligation.

Eikev, Deuteronomy 7:12 - 11:25

Moses continues his discourse guaranteeing the Jewish people prosperity and good health if they follow the mitzvot, the commandments. He reminds us to look at our history and to know that we can and should trust in God. However, we should be careful so that we are not distracted by our material success, lest we forget and ignore God.

Moses warns us against idolatry and against self-righteousness. He then details our rebellions against God during the 40 years in the desert and the giving of the Second Tablets (Moses broke the first Tablets containing the Ten Commandments during the sin of the Golden Calf).

The Torah then answers a question that every human being has asked of himself: What does God want of you? “Only that you remain in awe of God your Lord, so that you will follow all His paths and love Him, serving God your Lord with all your heart and with all your soul. You must keep God’s commandments and decrees […] so that all good will be yours” (Deuteronomy 10:12).