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Imagine the following: you wake up one morning, check Facebook, and see two birthdays pop up. One belongs to a close friend, someone you admire and love. The other belongs to someone you don’t really care for. You roll your eyes at the second name but still type “happy birthday” — it costs nothing to be polite. But for your real friend, you pick up the phone, you talk, you make plans, you go out of your way. Later, that person you hardly like sends you a message: “Thank you for thinking of me. It means a lot.” You smile, because even a small gesture touched them. And yet, you know — your real friend requires more than a click or a note. Friendship takes effort, sacrifice, presence.
That, I think, is exactly what our parsha is teaching. In Ki Teitzei we read: “You shall not see your brother’s ox or sheep astray and ignore them; you shall surely return them to your brother” (Devarim 22:1). The Rambam says “brother” means “friend.” Of course we do everything we can for a friend; it’s obvious. But back in Shemot, the Torah commands the same mitzvah for the animal of someone you dislike: “If you see the ox of your enemy wandering, you shall surely return it to him” (Shemot 23:4). Why the same obligation for a friend and for an enemy?
The Ramban notices that the Torah uses different words. For the enemy’s animal, it says toeh — wandering — a small detour, easy to fix. For the friend’s animal, it says nidachim — gone astray, far off, requiring effort and pursuit. The Ramban explains: when it comes to people we dislike, a small gesture can go a long way. No one expects much, so even a little kindness can change everything. But for our friends, there are expectations, responsibilities. True friendship demands sacrifice, patience, and going far beyond convenience.
And isn’t that true in life? It can be easy to reach out to someone new, even someone we don’t like, with a polite word. But maintaining deep bonds — with friends, with family, with community — that takes real work. And that’s the work this parsha points us to as we approach the Yamim Nora’im. Hashavat aveidah — returning what is lost — is not only about animals, or friends or enemies. It’s about us. How many parts of ourselves have wandered or gone astray this year? Our patience, our idealism, our faith? The Torah says: lo tuchal l’hitalem — you cannot hide from it. Just as you return what your friend has lost, so too you must reclaim what you yourself have lost.
So the lesson is clear. Small gestures can heal even strained relationships, but when it comes to the people and values we truly love, when it comes to our deepest selves, we are asked for more. For real effort. For real commitment. For a love that goes lifnim mishurat hadin, beyond the line of obligation, until it becomes not only duty but joy.
May this Shabbat help us find and return what has gone astray — in our relationships, in our community, and in our own hearts — so that we may enter the new year whole, renewed, and at peace.
Shabbat Shalom!
-Rabbi Dan
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