In a recent podcast, an important political analyst offered a striking observation about Israel’s current predicament. Israel, he argued, is engaged in a dual struggle over its reputation—one in the Middle East, and one in the West. In the Middle East, survival depends on our ability to inspire fear; in the West, support depends on our ability to inspire love. Over the past 22 months, Israel’s military campaign against Iran, Hezbollah, and Hamas has been remarkably effective in deterring most jihadist forces from attacking us. Yet this very success in cultivating fear throughout the region, he warns, has eroded sympathy and support in Western capitals.
In his words: “There is a zero-sum game between fear and love… we have two reputations to protect, not one—and they contradict each other.”
While the image of a “zero-sum game” is compelling, this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Eikev, offers a different perspective—one that suggests fear and love may not be contradictory at all.
In Deuteronomy 6:2, the Torah commands: “This is the command, the statutes, and the laws that the Lord your God charged you to teach… so that you will fear the Lord your God.” But just three verses later, in the Shema, we are told: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might” (6:5).
What is the meaning of each term and what is the relationship between them?
The early chapters of Deuteronomy help us understand the biblical sense of fear. Moses reminds the people that he urged their ancestors not to fear the nations of the Land (1:21, 28), yet also tells them that God would “place the fear of you… over the peoples under all the heavens” (2:25). At Sinai, terrified by God’s fire and voice, the people were overcome with fear—so much so that they begged Moses to serve as their intermediary, (5:5, 21). In all these cases, fear conveys a sense of dread, trembling, and the need to keep a distance from the source of power.
Love, by contrast, conveys closeness, affection, and warmth—the very opposite emotional movement. The command to love God in the Shema calls us to draw near, to bind our hearts and actions to Him.
On the surface, this seems to confirm the point made by the analyst: fear pushes away, love pulls close—surely they are mutually exclusive. Thus, how can the Torah command both?
One way to reconcile these commands is offered by Maimonides (Hilchot Teshuvah 10:1–2). He describes serving God out of fear as a legitimate but lower stage of religious life. With growth in understanding, one progresses from serving God out of fear to serving God out of love, which he regards as the ultimate ideal.
While this developmental model is elegant, it does not seem to be supported by the biblical text. Even after commanding us to love God, the Torah repeatedly insists that we must also fear Him (6:24; 8:6). And in our parasha, the two are joined explicitly in a single verse: “And now, Israel, what does the Lord your God ask of you but to fear the Lord your God, to walk in all His ways, and to love Him…” (10:12).
This suggests that the Torah does not treat fear and love as sequential stages, as the Rambam avers, but as coexisting, equally vital dimensions of our relationship with God. How can this work?
When the Torah speaks of fearing God, it is not calling for paralyzing dread, but for a sober awareness that we are always seen, always accountable. Love of God, meanwhile, calls us to draw close, to cleave to His ways with joy. Together, they create a healthy balance: fear keeps us from arrogance and transgression; love draws us into deeper connection and wholehearted service.
Seen this way, fear and love are not competing for the same emotional territory—they are partners in shaping a faithful life.
This perspective has implications beyond theology. If fear and love are not a zero-sum game with God, perhaps they need not be so in geopolitics either. In the Middle East, we must often project strength so that our enemies understand the cost of aggression. But fear should never be our only message. We must also show that we are ready to make peace with our neighbors if, and when, the time comes that they are willing to live at peace with us.
Similarly, in the West, while we seek understanding and friendship, such goodwill cannot come at the cost of our security. True partnership with Israel should be grounded in the recognition of our right to exist as a sovereign nation in our ancestral homeland—and in the understanding that, when threatened and attacked, we may have no choice but to instill fear in our enemies and make them think twice before lifting a hand against us again.
Shabbat Shalom.
