In the first century C.E., it appears to have been common knowledge among Jews that "Love your neighbor as yourself" (Leviticus 19:18), a verse in this week's Torah portion, was more than an ordinary commandment. The rabbinic sage Hillel, teaching a prospective convert, called it a "first principle," and Akiva similarly declared it a "great principle of the Torah." But what exactly does the verse say?

In biblical Hebrew, the direct object of a verb is generally preceded by the particle et. Thus, in the second verse of the catechism that begins Sh'ma Yisrael ("Hear O Israel!"), we are enjoined to love the Lord our God directly: v'ahavta et Hashem. In our verse, however, the verb "love" takes an indirect object, indicated by the preposition l': thus, the love of neighbor is formulated as v'ahavta l'rei'akha.

It is a small difference, but a crucial one. Rather than loving our neighbor as ourselves, the verse actually directs us to desire for our neighbor what we would for ourselves. We are not charged with the seemingly impossible task of subordinating our own esteem and desires to those of another; rather, we are instructed to be sure that we do not monopolize the market on self-esteem and realize our own desires at the expense of others. It is a formidable challenge, if one of a different order.

Put another way, the Torah appears to be anticipating what Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) would call the categorical imperative: the requirement that an individual consider the universal implications of his actions. Indeed, this is how the verse was interpreted by Meir Leib ben Y'hiel Michel (1809-1879), better known by the acronym Malbim—a reader of Kant and a singular rabbinic commentator:

Exegetes have pointed out that it exceeds the emotional capacity of a person to love another as he loves himself. . . . The philosophers have already explained that the main principle that is the foundation of ethical behavior is for man to desire that all his actions be a categorical imperative. For example, if he desires to harm another for his own benefit, he must consider whether he wants this to become a universal law whereby everyone can cause harm to others for personal gain.

This is not to suggest, however, that the universalistic disposition overrides the particularistic sentiment embodied in the biblical verse; after all, "your neighbor" here implies a fellow Jew. Rather, to be part of mankind is to be caught between the penchant to identify with the singular and particular and the inclination to be identified as a component of the universal. There is Akiva's assertion that "love your [particular] neighbor" is a great principle, and there is the proclamation of an even "greater principle" by Akiva's nephew Ben Azzay, basing himself on a different verse: "This is the book of the genealogies of Adam" (Genesis 5:1). All mankind is descended from Adam, who was created in a divine image.

Abraham Isaac Kook (1865-1935), a staunch Jewish nationalist, avowed: "My love for Israel is more enthusiastic, more profound." But, he immediately added, "my inner desire expands—through my love of Him—over all." In this intersection of love of self, love of neighbor, and love of humanity, all conjoined through the love of God, lies the message of this week's reading—which begins, appropriately enough, "Be you consecrated" (k'doshim tihyu).

Moshe Sokolow, professor of Jewish education at the Azrieli Graduate School of Yeshiva University, is the author of Studies in the Weekly Parashah Based on the Lessons of Nehama Leibowitz (2008).