It would be hard to overestimate the importance and centrality of the Aseres Ha-dibros. Aside from the singular historical phenomenon of divine revelation to an entire nation, the overarching significance of the Dibros is further highlighted by the view (see Bamidbar Rabbah 13, R. Saadiah Gaon, and others) that the Ten Commandments encapsulate the essence of all 613 mitzvos. 

Given the stature of the Aseres Ha-dibros we can reasonably assume that they include only the most profound and lofty ideals. The initial dibrah, for example, clearly lives up to this expectation. “Anochi Hashem Elokecha,” I am the Lord your God (Shemos 20:2), is the foundation of our belief system and is thus certainly an appropriate way to begin. The subsequent dibros similarly express values and beliefs which are central to Jewish life.  

But then comes the conclusion: “Lo sachmod beis rei’echa lo sachmod eishes rei’echa,” we are commanded not to covet someone else’s home or spouse, and not to be jealous of their servants and possessions, “ve’chol asher lerei’echa,” or anything else that someone else has and we do not (20:14). This is surprising, to say the least. After all, given the significance of the preceding commandments it seems odd to end with something so mundane. Isn’t it anti-climactic to go from the theological heights of “anochi Hashem” to banality of “don’t covet your friend’s donkey?” This is the crescendo of the Aseres Ha-dibros? 

My rebbe, Rav Michael Rosensweig (torahweb.org), suggests that if we appreciate the deeper meaning of “lo sachmod” then we will also understand why it is actually both the perfect compliment to “anochi Hashem” and the ideal ending to the Aseres Ha-dibros.  

The Ibn Ezra (20:13) famously questions the very premise of “lo sachmod;” how it is possible, he wonders, for the Torah to legislate what a person wants? Aren’t emotions beyond our control? What about the notion that “the heart wants what it wants?” He answers that commandment of “lo sachmod” comes to correct this mistaken assumption. The Ibn Ezra explains that this prohibition is based on the theological assumption that all of our material success is determined by Hashem and, therefore, in truth it makes no sense to be jealous of what your neighbor has. Jealously obsessing over something that doesn’t belong to us is antithetical to the belief that each person has what God in His infinite kindness and inscrutable wisdom has deemed appropriate. After all, if Hashem wanted you to possess your neighbor’s house, for example, you would already have it. Given this belief it follows that jealously is not merely prohibited, it’s actually illogical. 

Beyond the specifics of this particular commandment, this understanding of “lo sachmod” reveals an even larger – and more important – point. As R. Rosensweig eloquently notes, “Herein precisely lies the unique ambition of the Torah as a value system that seeks to transform and define the human personality. The Torah insists that man’s perspective can and must be shaped by the spiritual-halachic values that give life its purpose.” In other words, from the prohibition against jealously we learn that the Torah’s ultimate goal isn’t merely to legislate what we can and can’t do, but rather to transform the way we think, not only about the sublime but even about the mundane and not only about the nature of God but even about material possessions. 

Not coincidentally, the commandment of “anochi Hashem” is also something which might appear unrealistic; can the Torah really legislate what I believe? Once again the answer is that yes, the aim of the Torah is for us to elevate not only our actions, but our thoughts as well. R. Rosensweig notes that we can now appreciate why, far from peculiar, “lo sachmod” is actually the perfect culmination of the Aseres Ha-dibros, as it serves to both complement the first commandment, as well as to give dramatic expression to the ultimate purpose of the entire Torah. 

Of course, actually living up to this standard where everything, even one’s thoughts and emotions, are governed by Torah values is no small feat. But that’s exactly the point. “Anochi Hashem elokecha” in the realm of belief and “lo sachmod” in the realm of emotion are examples of the ambitious agenda that the Torah has in mind for us. If we live in a “halachic reality” then beyond our actions, even our beliefs and desires must be molded by the Torah’s values. 

This idea is reflected, as well, in a well known Midrash (Sifrei, V’Zos Ha-Beracha 2) regarding Matan Torah. The Midrash describes how, before giving the Torah to the Jewish people, Hashem first offered it to various other nations of the world and yet, in each case, they rejected offer because of a certain aspect of the Torah which was incompatible with their nature. For example, the descendants of Esav rejected the Torah because the prohibition against murder went against their nature. Similarly, the Midrash continues, the descendants of Amon, Moav, and Yishmael also rejected the Torah because of various other prohibitions, such as theft and sexual immorality, which ran counter to their respective natures. The Jewish people, the Midrash concludes, accepted the Torah without precondition and without reservation. 

Upon further reflection there is something very curious about this Midrash. The various reasons for their collective rejection of the Torah – murder, theft, and sexual immorality – are all included in the Sheva Mitzvos B’nei Noach, the Seven Noachide Laws, which are incumbent upon all people. Given that they are obligated in these prohibitions anyway – without apparent concern for their respective natures – what sense did it make for them to reject the Torah because of these commandments? 

Rav Shneur Kotler explains that there is a fundamental difference between the comprehensive aim of the Torah and the more minimalist goal of the Seven Noachide Laws. The Noachide Laws are meant merely to regulate human behavior. These laws govern basic behaviors which everyone is expected to abide by. Even though a given prohibition may run counter to a person’s natural inclination, nevertheless the person is expected to sublimate that inclination and conform to the basic tenents of morality. 

The mitzvos of the Torah, on the other hand, are intended to go ever further and transform the personality of the one who observes these laws. For example, “lo sirtzach” in the Torah doesn’t just prohibit murder, it is intended to create a personality that is incapable of committing murder. The same is true of the prohibition against adultery, theft, and all of the mitzvos.  

As a result of this essential difference R. Kotler explains that we can understand the decision of the nations that rejected the Torah. Even though there is overlap between the prohibitions, the Seven Noachide Laws just require a person to change his or her behavior – not nature – and therefore everyone, no matter their nature, is obligated to regulate their behavior based on these laws. The Torah, on the other hand, is supposed to mold a person’s personality and, as such, the various nations simply couldn’t accept the Torah when some its values so directly contradicted their essential natures. 

In other words, just as R. Rosensweig highlighted through the specific example of “lo sachmod,” R. Kotler develops the general idea that the goal of the Torah is not merely behavioral regulation, but to transform the human personality.  

The lesson for us is clear if not easy. The Torah places rigorous demands on our behavior, but even more challenging is the ultimate goal of the Torah to mold the human personality. Mitzvos should have the desired impact not only on what we do but also on who we are. May we all have the strength and perseverance to advance on the road towards this most lofty aspiration.