בְּתּוֹרָה אוֹר, דִּבּוּר הַמַּתְחִיל וַיֵּשֶׁב: "וְאֵינָהּ יְכוֹלָה לִרְאוֹת בְּאַהֲבָה" צָרִיךְ לִהְיוֹת "וְאֵינָה יְכוֹלָה לִהְיוֹת בְּאַהֲבָה".

[In the above note, the Rebbe makes an emendation to the Hebrew text of Torah Or that has since been incorporated in all of its editions.]

רַבֵּנוּ הַזָּקֵן סִפֵּר לִבְנוֹ אַדְמוּ"ר הָאֶמְצָעִי: דעֶר זֵיידעֶ (הַבַּעַל שֵׁם טוֹב) זאָגט אַז מ'דאַרף האָבּעֶן מְסִירַת נֶפֶשׁ אוֹיף אַהֲבַת יִשְׂרָאֵל, אֲפִילוּ צוּ אַ אִידעֶן, וועֶלכעֶן מ'האָט קֵיינמאָל נִיט געֶזעֶהן.

The Alter Rebbe told his son, the Mitteler Rebbe: My [spiritual] grandfather, (the Baal Shem Tov,) once said that one must have mesirus nefesh for ahavas Yisrael — even for a Jew whom one has never seen.1

A Story with an Echo

Ahavas Yisrael does not mean loving another Jew because he or she is intelligent, pleasant, or appealing, nor because of shared interests, concerns or even family ties. It stems from the fact that all Jews share the same G‑dly essence.2 When one understands this, it matters little whether or not one knows the other person; he loves him because of the very fact that he is a fellow Jew.

The story is told of a Polish tzaddik who was informed by the doctors that his daughter was mortally ill. He wept bitterly and prayed with all his heart — but then, when they told him that she had weathered the crisis and was going to survive, he wept even more bitterly. After some time, his surprised chassidim asked him gently what had overcome him.

He explained: “Only then did I realize that I do not love my fellow Jew as myself — because if this had been someone else’s daughter, I would not have prayed quite as desperately….”