Love your fellow as you love yourself” (Leviticus 19:18).
Is it reasonable to love someone as much you love yourself, to care about their issues to the same extent you care about your own? Even if you love your nearest and dearest as much as you love yourself, that doesn’t fulfill the directive of the verse; it says to love “your fellow” not “your most precious loved ones.” It sounds like G-d wants us to love that nameless person in the supermarket just as we love ourselves. How can that possibly work?
Hillel, the 1st century Talmudic scholar, gave us an approach to fulfilling this mitzvah: “Don’t do to others what you don’t like done to you.” In other words: Don’t hurt others. But how do I know what someone else might find hurtful? Use a simple formula: If I don’t like something done to me, I shouldn’t do it to someone else.
Hillel’s approach seems to make fulfilling the mitzvah less demanding. He's not asking us to experience an emotional connection with a stranger, but rather to cultivate a recognition that the stranger is a human being with feelings just like we are.
At the same time, the Torah uses the language “love your neighbor.” So, over and above Hillel’s principle, the Torah wants us to foster an emotional feeling for that nameless stranger. If they exist, their needs matter. That’s a tougher goal. Is it even possible?
The Rebbe actually lived this ideal. To illustrate, here's a story I once heard from Dr. David Luchins, Chair of Touro College’s Dept of Political Science: Dr. Luchins worked for Senator Daniel P. Moynihan of New York, and they once visited the Rebbe. Dr. Luchins was used to the business of politics, so he was waiting for the Rebbe – leader of a constituent community – to float an ‘ask.’ Surprisingly, nothing came.
Then, at the very end, the Rebbe asked the Senator, “Would it be okay if I asked you a favor?”
“Here it comes,” thought Dr. Luchins, as the Senator asked the Rebbe how he could be of service. The Rebbe responded by calling attention to a growing Chinese population on the lower east side of Manhattan. “These people,” said the Rebbe, “are generally quiet and hard-working. They are understated and don’t ask for help; but they need it. Can you pro-actively investigate their needs?”
Dr. Luchins concluded “I don’t how many Chinatown residents had ever heard of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, and I’m quite certain that Chinatown wasn’t a bastion of Chabad Chassidim. Yet, the Rebbe knew there was a human need, and that was enough for him to care.”
He still teaches us all how to care.