“How would you describe a Jewish person who is faithful to the Torah?” Inevitably, when I ask students this question, they describe someone who keeps Shabbat and kashrut, someone who davens, someone who is careful about Tzniut, and someone who learns Torah. “What about honoring your parents? Or visiting the sick? Or giving tzedakah?” I ask. “Well,” they say, “Those are in the Torah too, but they’re also just part of being a good person.” Of course, we know that the Torah includes mitzvot bein adam l’makom — between man and G-d — as well as mitzvot bein adam l’chaveiro — between man and man. But to many of us, those in the second category seem so intuitive and universal that it’s easy to forget their importance to what it means to be a Torah personality. Historians tell us, however, that these commandments and the values behind them were brought to the world by the Torah — and earlier and other cultures did not necessarily value them as we do. “In Greco-Roman culture,” points out historian Pieter van der Horst, “the well-to-do weren’t expected to support and help the poor. The Greek and Latin verbs for ‘doing good, being beneficent’ never have ‘the poor’ as their object, nor do they mean ‘almsgiving’… When Greeks did speak about the joy of giving to others, it has nothing to do with altruism, but only with the desired effects of giving: namely honour, prestige, fame, status.” And ancient pagan religions weren’t much different; the poor were poor because the gods didn’t favor them, and therefore those less fortunate were not worthy of help from others. Both how we relate to G-d and how we relate to others are key features of Torah living and thinking. They are intertwined. This week’s Torah portion includes the famous verse “וְאָהַבְתָּ לְרֵעֲךָ כָּמוֹךָ,” “Love your neighbor as yourself,” the quintessential bein adam l’chaveiro commandment which, according to the Rambam in Mishneh Torah (Mourning 14:1), is extended by Chazal to include a full range of activities that we associate with “being a good person,” from visiting the sick to bringing joy to a bride and groom. This is in addition to the numerous mitzvot in Parshat Kedoshim that focus on helping the poor, dealing honestly with others, and judging others favorably. But our obligation goes beyond the letter of the law. Ramban famously interprets the opening of our parsha, “קְדֹשִׁים תִּהְיוּ כִּי קָדוֹשׁ אֲנִי,” as imploring us to extend the value and principles of the Torah. One can keep the mitzvot of kashrut, says Ramban, but still be a glutton. קְדֹשִׁים תִּהְיוּ implores us to set limits for ourselves beyond the letters of the page. To be a true Torah Jew means seeking to fulfill our obligations with G-d and man — and ensuring that these practices change who we are so that our observances become more than just rote performances of our basic obligations. As I write this, I am on a coach bus returning with our eighth grade class from a wonderful trip to Washington, D.C. Through early morning wake-ups, two Rosh Chodesh davenings, and trips to monuments, museums, sports games, and more, I was honored and gratified to see our students embody commitment to bein adam l’makom and bein adam l’chaveiro. It is a true testament to them, to their families, and to Maimonides School that these practices reflect not only what they do but also who they are. Coming on time to tefillah, taking davening seriously, and maintaining a commitment to kashrut were paired with thanking the bus driver, cleaning up, and treating each other with respect and kindness. They (and we) have much to be proud of! May we all merit to incorporate our commitment to G-d and our commitment to our fellow man into the essence of who we are, and may we collectively continue to represent Hashem in the world as the holy nation that we are and aspire to be. | 
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