Putting Hashem Back at the Center

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This Shavuot, as we commemorate the giving of the Torah, highlighted by B’nei Yisrael’s powerful response of “na’aseh v’nishma — we will do and we will listen” (Shemot 24:7), we are given a meaningful opportunity to reflect on our own service of Hashem: where it may be lacking, and how we can strengthen and renew it. While there are many areas worthy of reflection, I’d like to focus on one in particular.

Me, Myself, and Mitzvot

As observant Jews, we don’t typically question whether we’re obligated in mitzvot. The very term observant implies a full commitment to Torah and mitzvot. But even so, there’s a quiet, often unspoken tendency that can creep into our thinking: to measure our connection to a mitzvah through the lens of our personal understanding or emotional resonance. We might find ourselves saying things internally to ourselves like: “I agree with this mitzvah,” “I see the value in this mitzvah,” “This mitzvah makes sense to me,” “This mitzvah resonates with my values,” “This mitzvah works for my lifestyle.”

On the surface, these may seem like positive, even ideal, sentiments. Isn’t it good to connect emotionally or intellectually to our mitzvah observance? But the subtle danger lies in what these statements might be indicating about the deeper framework through which we are relating to the Torah.

When we evaluate a mitzvah based on how much it resonates with us, we are, perhaps unconsciously, placing ourselves—and our values, feelings, and preferences—at the center. We begin to shift from a posture of service to a posture of self-validation. It’s no longer purely “I do this because Hashem commanded me,” but rather, “I do this because I agree with it, and, incidentally, Hashem also commanded it.” The Divine command becomes almost secondary, or at best, co-equal to our own sense of affirmation.

This does not mean we should strive for dry, mechanical observance devoid of feeling or insight. On the contrary, the ideal is to bring our whole self—our mind, heart, and soul—into our service of Hashem. But the key is to maintain the correct order: the foundation must be obligation, avdus, submission to the will of God. Meaning, inspiration, understanding, these are beautiful additions, but not the basis. When we understand a mitzvah, we rejoice in the clarity. When we don’t, we still obey, because it’s the command, not the comprehension, that binds us. As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks succinctly puts it, “[mitzvot] are to be obeyed with but not because of the mind’s assent. The mind is to be shaped by what lies beyond it.”¹

Rabbi Sacks further explains this with a teaching from the Gemara:

In the words of the Sages: “Today it [one’s evil inclination] says to him, ‘Do this’; tomorrow it tells him, ‘Do that’; until it bids him, ‘Go and serve idols”‘ (Shabbat 105b). This description of the gradual erosion of spiritual standards is interpreted by the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe thus: the Jew’s evil impulse cannot begin with enticement to a forbidden act. Rather, it bids him “Do this”, “Do that”, i.e., do something good, a mitzvah, but do it because your intellect and ego concur².

In this sense, the challenge facing the religious Jew is not open rejection of mitzvot, but a more subtle re-centering: while we consciously affirm that we observe mitzvot because we are commanded, on a deeper level, we may follow them primarily because they align with our values or feel personally meaningful — placing the self, rather than Hashem, at the center of our religious life.

Beyond Choice

The danger here is not only that we might be serving Hashem from the wrong place, but also that if our observance is based on how we feel or personally connect to a mitzvah, then when we don’t agree with it or it no longer resonates, there is more of a chance that we might simply discard it by quietly brushing it under the carpet.

The Gemara (Shabbat 88a) vividly explains how the Torah was given:

The Torah says, “And Moses brought forth the people out of the camp to meet God; and they stood at the lowermost part of the mount” (Shemot 19:17). Rabbi Avdimi bar Ḥama bar Ḥasa explains that the Jewish people literally stood beneath the mountain, and Hashem overturned the mountain over them like a barrel, saying: “If you accept the Torah, great; if not, this will be your burial place.”

This teaches us that accepting the Torah was not optional. Although B’nei Yisrael declared na’aseh v’nishma (“we will do and we will listen”), accepting the Torah was a binding obligation from the very start. Had the Jewish people accepted the Torah solely out of personal willingness, even though admirable, that could lead to misunderstanding its true nature. People might see the Torah as merely a helpful guide that improves life, rather than recognizing it as essential to the very existence of the universe. That is why Hashem lifted the mountain over them—to emphasize that Torah acceptance is a commandment, not a matter of personal preference. Similarly, if we accept mitzvot today only because they resonate with us, there is a risk that we might reject them tomorrow if our feelings change.

Torah observance cannot depend solely on our changing emotions, which are naturally fluctuating and sometimes unreliable. True commitment to Torah requires a foundation far deeper than momentary feelings—it calls for steadfast dedication, responsibility, and a conscious choice to align ourselves with Hashem’s will, even when it challenges us or feels difficult.

This Shavuot, as we reflect on the gift of Torah and the solemn acceptance of our ancestors, let us reaffirm that our commitment to Torah is grounded in steadfast dedication and responsibility, anchored not just in how we feel, but in our deep sense of obligation and love for Hashem’s will.