It was her eyes that really captured me; there was an intense sadness there mixed with pain, and yet every now and then a flash of fire that seemed to suggest... defiance...determination?

And the mother of the boy repeated again: "I would be proud to have taken his place and I am proud of him for all that he has done." And it was at this point that I realized, as the camera finally panned out, showing the woman and not just her eyes, that I was listening to the mother of a suicide bomber, who not only was proud of her son for the death and destruction he had rained upon so many innocent families the day before, but actually desired to do the same thing.

Putting aside many of the questions this news piece raises regarding the role of the media, the nature of the news it reports and the responsibility it has toward the general public, one cannot help but wonder how much of the decision of this young suicide bomber was influenced by this same mother's pride in her son's path, and even by her desire to emulate it.

Which raises an interesting question: Should this woman (and anyone like her) be held accountable, not just for evil actions but for evil desires as well?

While one might suggest that espousing suicide bombings in the public media is no longer thought, but action, what of the original thought process? Is there something wrong with admiring suicide bombers, and, even more, with the desire to emulate them? Can we be held responsible for our desires, and not just our actions?

At first glance, the idea seems absurd, and yet this is precisely the question one has to struggle with when confronting no less than the tenth commandment.

"Lo tachmod beit rei'echa, lo tachmod eishet rei'echa, ve'avdo, va'amato ve'shoro, va'chamaro, ve'chol asher le'rei'echa."

"You shall not covet your friend's (fellow's?) house. You shall not covet your friend's wife, his manservant, his maidservant, his ox, his donkey, and anything that belongs to your friend." (Exodus 20:14)

What is the nature of this mitzvah, and why is this the injunction that concludes the Ten Commandments? It is important to note that whenever we are presented with a list or a topic, the beginning and end of that list (or topic) is a critical part of understanding the nature of the entire list. It is not accidental that the first of the Ten Commandments is "I am the Lord your G-d"; this is because everything Judaism asks of us depends on whether we have a relationship with G-d.

There can be no command without a commander; thus the mitzvah of developing a relationship with G-d, and of accepting that we are created by G-d with a purpose, is essential to understanding and implementing the rest of the Ten (and for that matter all) Commandments.

Somehow then, this tenth commandment is meant to summarize or even stress all the commandments that precede it, which leaves us wondering why this mitzvah is so important.

For that matter, what is this tenth commandment all about? Ibn Ezra along with many other commentaries, poses the obvious question here: How can we be expected not only to limit what we do, but also even to control what we think?

And there are really two parts to this question: First, what is the problem with wanting something that I can't have? After all, it would seem this is only a natural experience we all share on different occasions. Whether it is a nice car our friend drives, the home he or she has just remodeled or even a new leather- bound set of the Talmud, we see something that catches our eye, and we like it; somehow we connect with it and wish we could also have it. This need not mean we have any ill will toward the friend who already has it, but what is so terrible about a little wishful thinking?

And second, even if we accept that this thought process is problematic, exactly what are we supposed to do about it? How can a person change what he is thinking? And how can the Torah expect, and even demand, that we do just that?

It is easy to understand the Torah's expectation that we control our desires in order not to do things we are not meant to do, but how are we meant to control our thoughts in order not to want anything anyone else has ever acquired? One might even suggest that these very desires are a gift in that they challenge us to struggle with ourselves, and in the process we learn to live up to a certain behavioral standard which is then earned rather than a given. So what is the Torah expecting of us here and why?

In fact, these desires seem to be a healthy part of society! Imagine if businessmen never desired any other company's stocks; the stock market would crash! And if we never wanted someone else's car, then the automobile industry would soon be laying off millions of workers, so where is the harm in a little personal 'wanting'?

It is worth noting that many commentaries suggest that these Ten Commandments are not merely mitzvot that stand alone, but rather they represent different categories of mitzvot, and that the Ten Commandments in fact allude to all of the mitzvot. (See Rashi (Exodus) 24:12, quoting the Midrash Rabbah and Rav Sa'adiah Gaon)

This would certainly explain why there is a need for such a list (after all, why else would Hashem list ten specific commandments, while giving us all the mitzvot?), but at the same time it challenges us to understand the nature of this concluding mitzvah which must allude to one of Judaism's central ideas.

Perhaps, before we can consider how we want things, or even how to decide not to want things, this mitzvah forces us to consider what we really want in the first place. And the Torah is obviously telling us that there are certain things we should not want at all.

In truth, there are many things we expect ourselves not to want, whether as parents, as doctors, or even as a society. It is not enough sometimes for a person not to do the wrong thing; it is equally important not to want those things at all.

For example, a parent whose child enjoys eating light bulbs would be calling a child psychologist, and most schools would not hire a person who enjoys child pornography as a teacher, even if that person had never actually done anything wrong.

So, suggests Rav Avigdor Nevensahl in his Sichot LeSefer Shemot, maybe the Torah wants us to feel that way about anything that belongs to someone else.

In other words, the very fact that something belongs to someone else means that not only would I never take it or attempt to acquire it, but that I would naturally not even want it at all! Desiring your friend's laptop, or wife, then, should be like wanting to eat your sports coat.

But as much as this may be a laudable goal, the real question is how does one accomplish this? Especially challenging is the fact that if the Torah asks this of us, it must somehow be within the realm of possibility; it is a generally accepted principle that G-d would not ask of us something which we cannot possibly do.

Perhaps instead of approaching this question from the perspective of the desires we struggle with, we might consider a closer look at the relationship on which the Torah bases its request to change what we desire.

Think about it: A married man sees a beautiful woman, and he desires her for himself, only she is already married to someone else; a normal state of affairs right? Except the fact that this fellow could even look that way at someone else's wife, much less truly desire her, means there is something very wrong with his own marriage.

The problem begins not with the adulterous act, or even with the series of events that must inevitably precede such an act (the innocent shared cup of coffee, or the lunch date that lasts into the afternoon), but with the unhealthy relationship that allows for the process to even get started.

In fact, the very fact that a person desires another woman must send a loud message that there is something missing and even wrong with the relationship he already has, or thinks he has.

And in such a situation we have choices. Maybe a person really is in a relationship that is not right, and maybe this very desire (for someone else) is a wakeiup call to that very fact. And in that event there is a mitzvah that becomes the vehicle for ending the current marriage: the mitzvah of get, or Jewish divorce. And it goes without saying that such a decision should not be taken lightly and must involve much soul- searching, not to mention a very real attempt to rehabilitate the marriage before letting it go. But at the very least, until a person (in this case both the man and the other woman) has made that decision and been through that process to the point that it has been truly exhausted, there is something wrong with focusing on this new desire.

Indeed, there is even something wrong with the fact that a person only woke up to the challenges in his own relationship by seeing and desiring someone else. The true challenge of all relationships is the constant work and effort that goes into nurturing such relationships and seeing them grow, day-by-day and year-by-year.

And if this is true of our relationships with each other, it is certainly true of our relationship with Hashem.

Indeed, the essence of our time here on earth is all about the desire to simply fulfill the desire, or ratzon, of G-d. Ultimately, this is the great question we have the opportunity to ask ourselves each and every day: What is it, really, that G-d wants of me? And can I fulfill a little bit more what that ratzon of G-d's really is.

And by definition, this means focusing on the gifts and opportunities G-d gives me, and not what He has bestowed on the fellow next to me.

And of course, it then makes perfect sense that this mitzvah is the conclusion of the Ten Commandments, because it is the point of all of them. The reason for celebrating Shabbat, just like the decision not to steal or lie, is only because I believe that is what Hashem wants of me, and the more I am immersed with a desire to fulfill Hashem's will, the less I will really want to do or want anything that Hashem does not want. (In fact, the entire Torah is simply a delineation of what Hashem wants from us.)

Kind of like any healthy relationship: There are many things I might not want to do but I actually develop the desire to do simply because I know they are something that someone I love wants for me to do.

Imagine taking your kids to a Disney cartoon movie; it probably would not be a film you would see on your own, and many parents in that situation will sit through the movie with their kids and just 'grin and bear it'. But the fact that I am taking my children to that movie and doing something they so want to do actually makes me want to do it.

Now imagine you were doing this after one of your children was (G-d forbid) very ill, and that this is the first day she was released from hospital, and that this movie was all she has been wanting to do for weeks. And imagine that during those weeks, you weren't sure that you would ever merit taking her to that movie because you didn't really know whether she would make it.

Well, walking into that movie theater with your now- healthy daughter by your side, you wouldn't just enjoy taking her to the movies, and you wouldn't just want to go to the movie she wanted to go to; there actually wouldn't be any movie in the theater you would rather see! And you would love every minute of the film: every hug, every shared giggle, and even every spilled drop of Coke.

And that is the true challenge of Lo tachmod: the opportunity not to covet. Can I develop such healthy relationships in my life that even my desires naturally change?

It is a mitzvah less about the things we want than about who we really are. You can learn about a person from what he or she wants, and sometimes we are not so happy with the things we want. But in the end, the things we want are just symptoms: reflections of the relationships we have in our lives. And if we could really develop a relationship with Hashem that allows us to desperately want to do only what Hashem wants of us, then we could never do anything wrong.

And here too, perhaps it is less about getting there than about embracing the process. It begins with what I decide I want to want, and then it proceeds to a very deep introspection into how I develop the relationships that allow me to truly want those things.

And as to how we get there, it is worth noting that we are given these mitzvot at Sinai, where, in the midst of thunder and lightning and the still, small voice of G-d, we somehow achieved an exalted state, deeply connected to G-d and our purpose on earth. And it may well be that in that briefest of moments we actually truly desired only to fulfill the will of G-d.

Every now and then we are blessed to experience such moments; perhaps it is the moment of standing with your beloved underneath the wedding canopy, the chuppah, or maybe it is when you intuit the pain of a friend and are filled with a desire only to be there for them, or maybe it is even in the midst of the Kol Nidre service on Yom Kippur when one can be filled with an intense desire to fulfill our purpose on this earth, while sensing how much Hashem truly loves us.

We need to catch those moments and tap into them, learn from them, because they are the fuel that powers our lives. And maybe we can even, on occasion, create those moments, by creating the environment and the circumstances that allow them to happen: the moment of the Shema on Shabbat morning in the synagogue, or the romantic dinner by candlelight. Whatever and wherever they may be, the rewards and the results are well worth the struggle, especially since success means it becomes that much less of a struggle.

We, as human beings, really do have the ability to change the nature of what we want in this world, and that is a crucial piece in our ability to make the world the better place we all dream it could be. Maybe we'll get a little bit closer this Shabbat..

Shabbat Shalom,

Binny Freedman