In both Jewish and Christian traditions, commentary on the Ethic of Reciprocity treats two quite different statements as essentially interchangeable:
1. You shall love your neighbor (or fellow) as yourself, and
2. Do (or don’t do) unto others….
Sometimes the “you shall love” statement is identified being the Ethic. Sometimes it is the “Do unto” statement. Does it matter?
I think we need to look at the idea of the commandedness of an emotion or feeling. Then we can more closely examine the active expression of that emotion or feeling.
A commandment to love is familiar, certainly to Jews, since the central profession of the unity of God, recited morning and evening, is immediately followed by this passage from Deuteronomy 6:5:
“And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul and all your might.”
The obvious question is: “How can one be commanded to feel something?”
That issue has been addressed by many commentators, both Jewish and Christian. In one form or another the answer is most often stated in terms of action.
That is: following the commandments or instructions of God is the necessary and sufficient indication of the love that is commanded. It might be better, some argue, if the action were done out of a sincere desire to obey and to please God. But it is the doing that ultimately matters rather than the motivation for the doing.
Is the issue of a commandment to love one’s neighbor the same as one to love God? Is there a different range of possibilities? What does it mean to be commanded to love one’s neighbor?
First, I think we have to look at the concept of “neighbor”. And to do that we have to start with the recognition that “neighbor” is a translation. The path to any given English translation might have started in the Hebrew of Leviticus or from an Aramaic version or from a Greek version. But wherever it started it does not end without ambiguity.
Is one’s “fellow” (which is also a frequent translation) the same as one’s “neighbor”?
The statement in the version commonly known to Islam has been translated as “brother”.
From one’s brother, to one’s neighbor, to one’s fellow represents a broad range of potential relationship. Is the range of my feeling towards a brother the same as that towards a neighbor? Probably not.
In the Gospel of Luke (10:29), Jesus is asked:
“Who is my neighbor?”
He answers with the parable of the good Samaritan who goes out of his way to help a stranger in need whom he encounters on the road. While this answer by Jesus is taken by many to teach that one’s “neighbor” is anyone in need and is extended, in concept, far beyond the circle of direct association, the actual teaching of Jesus involves one individual rendering direct, physical aid to another individual. It is a person-to-person act of kindness and compassion.
My teacher, Rabbi Bernard Zlotowitz z”l always stressed that the more appropriate translation of this verse would use the term “friend” rather than “neighbor”. He argued that the relationship of neighbor was not close enough to support a commandment or even a general principle that would rise to the level of love.
Just as “neighbor” gets expanded by many, some extend the interpretation of “fellow” to mean “fellow man”, implying that it encompasses all of humanity.
Is it reasonable to think that individuals, in general, have the capacity to “love” those with whom they have no relationship and of whom they have no direct connection?
There is a genetic rationale for our concern for those in our family group but, as Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks puts it:
“Our radius of moral concern has limits…Our inclination to act well towards others, whatever its source, tends to be confined to those with whom we share a common identity.” (Sacks, “Not in God’s Name: Confronting Religious Violence”).
While we might share with all of our “fellow men” a common identity as human beings, it’s quite a leap from the connection among members of a family group to the one that might extend to all homo sapiens.
Much as I might want to be able say that I love all human beings, the truth is that I do not have the same feeling for someone whom I will never meet and with whom I have no possible connection, that I have for my immediate family.
I can, however, commit to treating all persons, regardless of connection, in accordance with a set of behavioral principles that are prescribed by accepted moral and ethical authority. And there might be little to distinguish that behavior from my behavior towards someone I really do love.
My behavior might look the same but my motives might be different and my feelings toward the person might be quite different.
It doesn’t have to be love to look like love.
The person I love will understand that my behavior expresses love in addition to my commitment to moral and ethical behavior. The person I’ve never met and have no connection with will recognize the quality of the behavior but have no expectation that it arises from anything more than adherence to a certain behavioral standard.
From that person’s point of view, it is my behavior that counts, not my motivation.
As we look to application of the Ethic of Reciprocity in the context of larger and larger groups, I think it’s clear that behavior is the natural benchmark.
There might be (and probably are) some highly unusual individuals who can actually love all of their fellows. For the rest of us the test is how we treat our fellows.
It is a “do or don’t do” issue for us, not a love or don’t love issue.
© 2017 Charles R. Lightner