One of the great paradoxes of human nature is the meeting of opposites, the fact that two conditions which are contrary to each other in the extreme can produce the same effects. How frequently are we amused to find the Vatican and the Kremlin toeing, with characteristic dogmatism, the same lines; occasionally we are astonished at the coincidence of views of the Wall Street Journal and the Daily Worker. Both extreme Right and extreme Left are alike in condemning the liberal centre, and in demanding blind obedience of their followers. Both were equally hostile, for instance, to the Marshall Plan. In the same vein, we find that affluence and plenty often produce the same results as do adversity and poverty. It is no secret that indigence breeds immorality and corruption. In the Middle Ages, the Black Plague and the universal poverty combined to cause the greatest crime wave in the recorded history of Europe. Murder, violence and theft were the immediate results of pestilence and destitution. Starvation and privation are bound to unleash the tidal waves of immorality and degeneracy whether in Nablus of Arab Palestine or in Harlem of enlightened New York. Sociologists usually blame low standards of morality on low standards of living. But the astounding fact is that there are people who would behave immorally and irreligiously and unethically when they earn $200 a week, whereas they did not do so when they barely eked out a living at $25 a week. Somehow prosperity will sometimes produce worse effects than will poverty. The recent basketball scandals have shown that boys from wealthy homes are not necessarily immune from the temptation of the fixer. Today, when America is enjoying comparatively high prosperity, the record for narcotics, sports scandals and government bribery is as black as ever. It is a well-established phenomenon that the nouveau riche, the man who has suddenly become wealthy, leaves his House of Worship and forgets his religion. Even political immoral…

The entire book of Devarim, when compared with the first four books of the Torah, is found to have a unique character, a personality all its own. Whereas in the other books the laws of Judaism are expressed in more or less legal form, and where the accompanying narrative is factual in nature, this fifth book of Moses is noted for its sweeping sentimentality, for its appeal to the heart and to the soul. The words lev and nefesh appear more often here than in all the other books combined. We are charged to uplift our hearts and souls, to give of ourselves emotionally, to experience Torah ecstatically, to feel it personally and intimately. In fact, the one word most characteristic of the book of Devarim is ahava – love. We are to do more than obey G-d and follow Him. We must also love Him; we must experience His presence with our deepest emotions. We read this morning, Ve’ahavta es Hashem Elokecha, thou shalt love the Lord thy G-d. Further, ve’ata Yisrael mah Hashem Elokecha doresh me’imach ki im… l’ahavah oso, G-d asks of us to love Him. And again in the book of Devarim, though not in this morning’s Sidra, the clarion calls of the Shema: v’ahavta… b’chol lvavcha…But lest anyone here this morning believe that this is merely gaudy sentimentalism, a sort of fatherly advice, let him be corrected quickly. The Halachah insists that ahavas Hashem is a mitzvah, a commandment. And as such it is a guiding principle of Jewish life. We are commanded to love G-d. And yet, this very idea, the idea that we are commanded to love, is a most perplexing notion. Maimonides and other Jewish philosophers were puzzled by it. They ask a simple, but a pointed question: how can you possibly “command” someone to love? Love is an emotion, a deep emotion, and as such is above, independent of and detached from volition or will. You can command me to do or give or act or walk, and I can obey; but you cannot possibly command me to love or hate and expect me to obey, no matter how much I want to. I …