The word mitzvah (מצוה; plural mitzvot) derives from the root tzavah (צ-ו-ה), «to command, to order». Literally it is a «commandment», a «precept»: that which God commands to do or not to do. The term is therefore first of all juridical-relational, not sentimental: it indicates an injunction that comes from one who has the authority to command.

From this, two important nuances. The first: a mitzvah is not only an abstract rule, but a concrete act — to give alms, to honor parents, not to steal. In popular usage the word comes to mean even «good deed», precisely because the commandment is measured in the gesture. The second: the plural mitzvot designates the whole of the precepts as a form of life of the covenant. Not a code imposed from outside, but the way the relationship with God takes shape in the days. The semantic center of gravity, therefore, is on the doing: the mitzvah exists when it is performed.

In the Old Testament the commandments are not a burden added to faith: they are the content of the covenant. The Decalogue (Exod 20) opens the series, but the Torah is woven through with them from top to bottom, intertwining moral, social and cultic precepts. Deuteronomy presents them as a response of love: «You shall love YHWH your God with all your heart... and these precepts that I command you today shall be in your heart» (Deut 6:5-6). Love and obedience are not opposed: each is said in the other.

The New Testament does not break this logic, it brings it to fulfillment. Jesus sums up «all the Law and the Prophets» in the twofold commandment of love of God and of neighbor (Matt 22:37-40), citing precisely Deut 6:5 and Lev 19:18. And he explicitly binds love and observance: «If you love me, you will keep my commandments» (John 14:15). The Sermon on the Mount (Matt 5-7) is a concrete example: not abstractions, but practicable commands — to be reconciled, not to swear, to forgive, to give without being seen.

The famous number of 613 mitzvot (in Hebrew taryag mitzvot) — 248 positive («do») and 365 negative («do not do») — is not data written explicitly in the Bible: it is a traditional count, attributed to the master Rabbi Simlai. It must therefore be presented for what it is — a rabbinic synthesis of the corpus of the precepts of the Torah — and not as a figure that is read in the biblical text. The 365 «do nots» were associated with the days of the year and the 248 «dos» with the members of the body: a mnemonic and expressive way of saying that the commandment concerns all of time and the whole person.

Historically, the whole of the mitzvot gives shape to the daily life of Israel: it marks out the calendar, food, relationships, worship. It is not first theory and then practice; it is the practice that guards the faith. This rootedness in the concrete — the halakhah, literally «the way, the manner of walking» — is the hallmark of Judaism: one believes by walking.

For Judaism the mitzvah is not a merit that «buys» God, but a response to the covenant already given: one obeys because loved, not in order to be loved. To perform a precept is to enter into relationship, to sanctify an ordinary instant. For this reason the blessings say «who has sanctified us with his commandments»: the mitzvah sanctifies time.

The Orthodox Christian reading does not dismiss this as «legalism». Jesus himself lives as an observant Jew and demands a concrete doing: «Why do you call me Lord, Lord, and do not do what I say?» (Luke 6:46). Faith without works is dead, James reminds us (Jas 2:17). Orthodoxy holds together grace and commandment: the concrete commands of Jesus — to forgive, to serve, to share — are the Christian form of the mitzvah, love that becomes gesture. Faith and works are not opposed; works are the body of love. Recovering the grammar of the mitzvot helps to read the Gospel not as an abstract ideal, but as a way to be walked.

The most widespread loss, in Christian circles, is to oppose faith and works as if one excluded the others, reducing the mitzvot to a «legalism» now surpassed. It is a simplification: in the world of Jesus the commandment is not the opposite of grace, but its body. «If you love me, you will keep my commandments» (John 14:15) is not a legalistic addition to the Gospel message — it is the message.

The other loss concerns the number: to repeat «the 613 mitzvot» as if it were biblical data, forgetting that it is a traditional count (Rabbi Simlai). It is no pedantic detail: confusing the rabbinic synthesis with the text loses the sense of how the tradition read and organized the Torah. Recovering the grammar of the mitzvot restores to Christianity the halakhic emphasis that has been its own from the origins: not only to believe rightly, but to do what Jesus commanded — a concrete way, not an idea. Faith, here too, is measured in the feet that walk.

The word mitzvah (מצוה; plural mitzvot) derives from the root tzavah (צ-ו-ה), «to command, to order». Literally it is a «commandment», a «precept»: that which God commands to do or not to do. The term is therefore first of all juridical-relational, not sentimental: it indicates an injunction that comes from one who has the authority to command.

From this, two important nuances. The first: a mitzvah is not only an abstract rule, but a concrete act — to give alms, to honor parents, not to steal. In popular usage the word comes to mean even «good deed», precisely because the commandment is measured in the gesture. The second: the plural mitzvot designates the whole of the precepts as a form of life of the covenant. Not a code imposed from outside, but the way the relationship with God takes shape in the days. The semantic center of gravity, therefore, is on the doing: the mitzvah exists when it is performed.

In the Old Testament the commandments are not a burden added to faith: they are the content of the covenant. The Decalogue (Exod 20) opens the series, but the Torah is woven through with them from top to bottom, intertwining moral, social and cultic precepts. Deuteronomy presents them as a response of love: «You shall love YHWH your God with all your heart... and these precepts that I command you today shall be in your heart» (Deut 6:5-6). Love and obedience are not opposed: each is said in the other.

The New Testament does not break this logic, it brings it to fulfillment. Jesus sums up «all the Law and the Prophets» in the twofold commandment of love of God and of neighbor (Matt 22:37-40), citing precisely Deut 6:5 and Lev 19:18. And he explicitly binds love and observance: «If you love me, you will keep my commandments» (John 14:15). The Sermon on the Mount (Matt 5-7) is a concrete example: not abstractions, but practicable commands — to be reconciled, not to swear, to forgive, to give without being seen.

The famous number of 613 mitzvot (in Hebrew taryag mitzvot) — 248 positive («do») and 365 negative («do not do») — is not data written explicitly in the Bible: it is a traditional count, attributed to the master Rabbi Simlai. It must therefore be presented for what it is — a rabbinic synthesis of the corpus of the precepts of the Torah — and not as a figure that is read in the biblical text. The 365 «do nots» were associated with the days of the year and the 248 «dos» with the members of the body: a mnemonic and expressive way of saying that the commandment concerns all of time and the whole person.

Historically, the whole of the mitzvot gives shape to the daily life of Israel: it marks out the calendar, food, relationships, worship. It is not first theory and then practice; it is the practice that guards the faith. This rootedness in the concrete — the halakhah, literally «the way, the manner of walking» — is the hallmark of Judaism: one believes by walking.

For Judaism the mitzvah is not a merit that «buys» God, but a response to the covenant already given: one obeys because loved, not in order to be loved. To perform a precept is to enter into relationship, to sanctify an ordinary instant. For this reason the blessings say «who has sanctified us with his commandments»: the mitzvah sanctifies time.

The Orthodox Christian reading does not dismiss this as «legalism». Jesus himself lives as an observant Jew and demands a concrete doing: «Why do you call me Lord, Lord, and do not do what I say?» (Luke 6:46). Faith without works is dead, James reminds us (Jas 2:17). Orthodoxy holds together grace and commandment: the concrete commands of Jesus — to forgive, to serve, to share — are the Christian form of the mitzvah, love that becomes gesture. Faith and works are not opposed; works are the body of love. Recovering the grammar of the mitzvot helps to read the Gospel not as an abstract ideal, but as a way to be walked.

The most widespread loss, in Christian circles, is to oppose faith and works as if one excluded the others, reducing the mitzvot to a «legalism» now surpassed. It is a simplification: in the world of Jesus the commandment is not the opposite of grace, but its body. «If you love me, you will keep my commandments» (John 14:15) is not a legalistic addition to the Gospel message — it is the message.

The other loss concerns the number: to repeat «the 613 mitzvot» as if it were biblical data, forgetting that it is a traditional count (Rabbi Simlai). It is no pedantic detail: confusing the rabbinic synthesis with the text loses the sense of how the tradition read and organized the Torah. Recovering the grammar of the mitzvot restores to Christianity the halakhic emphasis that has been its own from the origins: not only to believe rightly, but to do what Jesus commanded — a concrete way, not an idea. Faith, here too, is measured in the feet that walk.