There is a profound mitzvah in the Torah that challenges us to cultivate our awareness and responsibility: “You shall not see your fellow’s ox or sheep gone astray and ignore them; you must return them to your fellow” (Deuteronomy 22:1). While this commandment seems straightforward, its deeper message reaches far beyond the return of lost objects. It beckons us to become people who actively seek, see, and restore the lost—in objects, in people, and even within ourselves.
But it goes even further. The Sefat Emet, a Hasidic master, teaches that this mitzvah applies not only to tangible losses but also to spiritual and emotional ones. When we become attuned to the gaps in others’ lives or our own—the neglected values, buried dreams, or fragmented relationships—we gain the ability to restore what is missing and bring wholeness where there was brokenness.
Developing “eyes that see the lost” expands the scope of the mitzvah far beyond physical items to encompass intangible losses as well. Returning a lost wallet, finding a misplaced heirloom, or helping someone reclaim something they hold dear are all tangible ways to practice this mitzvah. Yet, the concept goes deeper, extending to people who feel unseen, unheard, or disconnected. Recognizing their struggles and stepping in to help restore their sense of worth is a powerful act of returning what is lost. It also includes moments of lost opportunity—instances where what is misplaced isn’t a thing or a person but a chance to do good, to connect, or to grow. Finally, the things we lose are often parts of ourselves—our sense of purpose, our values, or our belief in ourselves. Seeking and reclaiming these inner aspects of our being is one of the most profound acts of spiritual restoration.
The Torah doesn’t merely ask us to return something we stumble upon. It commands us not to ignore the lost. This is not a passive obligation; it requires us to open our eyes and actively engage with the world. Seeing the lost—whether it’s a wallet on the sidewalk, a person in distress, or an opportunity to heal—requires us to sharpen our perception and awaken to what others might overlook. The practice of training our eyes to notice what is hidden in plain sight begins with cultivating a deep sense of mindfulness and attentiveness to the world around us. Often, we are so caught up in the rush of our own lives—our routines, goals, and distractions—that we overlook the subtle details that reveal the needs, struggles, or opportunities surrounding us. Developing this awareness requires an intentional slowing down, a conscious effort to truly see what is there, rather than what we expect or want to see.
Mindfulness means being fully present in each moment, noticing not just the obvious but the nuances—the quiet expressions of someone who may be struggling, the overlooked beauty of an unremarkable day, or the small, persistent signals that something or someone needs attention. This attentiveness is not passive observation; it is an active practice of opening ourselves to the world with curiosity and care.
Yet, this practice often involves stepping into discomfort. It can be unsettling to notice what is lost, broken, or neglected, whether it’s a person in pain, an injustice that requires action, or an aspect of ourselves that we’ve been avoiding. Seeing these things clearly challenges us to move beyond apathy or avoidance. It calls us to engage, even when the path forward feels unclear or difficult.
Ultimately, training our eyes to notice the hidden requires both courage and compassion. It asks us to look beyond surface appearances, to embrace the complexities of human experience, and to recognize the sacredness in every moment and every interaction. This practice is transformative—not just for what it helps us see, but for the person it helps us become: someone who is fully awake to the world and ready to participate in its healing.
By learning to see these forms of loss, we engage not only with the object itself but also with the human story behind it. Returning what is lost becomes an act of restoration—of dignity, connection, and belonging.
To truly see the lost, we must cultivate a mindset shaped by curiosity, courage, and compassion. Curiosity invites us to ask deeper questions about the world and people around us, prompting us to wonder who might feel “lost” in our community and what hidden treasures—whether talents, stories, or opportunities—are waiting to be rediscovered. Courage is essential because seeking the lost often requires stepping into someone else’s pain or confronting our own. It takes a willingness to face discomfort and act, even when the path is challenging. Compassion ties everything together, guiding us to approach the lost with kindness and a belief in their inherent worth. It reminds us that restoration is not just about the act itself but the profound message it conveys: You matter.
R. Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter, the Sefat Emet, explains:
Regarding the verse, "You shall not see... and ignore it... you shall surely return it... you shall surely lift it up": This can be interpreted to mean that when a person accustoms themselves to a mindset where they cannot ignore the loss or damage of their fellow—whether it is in physical matters or in the correction of the soul—then they gain the ability to return what was lost and to lift them up. All the more so regarding a person themselves: when one cannot tolerate their own deficiencies, they will then find salvation. (Sefat Emet, Ki Teitzei, 5638)
The Sefat Emet, adds a profound layer to this mitzvah. He suggests that the ultimate goal of seeing and returning the lost is not merely to fix the physical loss but to repair the relationship between people. The Torah even commands us to prioritize returning an enemy’s property. Why? Because the act of restoration has the power to transform enmity into friendship. The true "lost possession" is often the connection between individuals, and the mitzvah invites us to restore that bond.
The Sefat Emet also notes that this mitzvah applies to the self. When we cannot tolerate our own deficiencies or brokenness, we create the conditions for personal salvation. Seeking and restoring the lost within us—whether it’s forgotten dreams, neglected values, or spiritual vitality—mirrors the process of teshuva (returning). By becoming seekers of our own wholeness, we align ourselves with divine healing.
Cultivating sensitivity to the lost and broken requires intentional practice. At the end of each day, take a moment for reflection and ask yourself what you noticed that others might have overlooked and how you responded. Practice active listening by paying attention not only to what people are saying but also to what remains unspoken, as the most profound needs are often hidden between the lines. Engage in small acts of restoration, whether by returning a lost item, offering encouragement to someone struggling, or revisiting a neglected part of your own life. Finally, turn to prayer, asking Hashem to grant you clarity and compassion to truly see the world around you and recognize what is lost and in need of restoration.
Ultimately, this mitzvah teaches us that restoration is not just a physical act but a spiritual practice. When we develop eyes that see the lost, we engage in the work of tikkun olam (repairing the world). Every act of restoration—returning a wallet, helping someone rediscover their worth, or reclaiming a forgotten part of ourselves—adds goodness and light to the world. As the Kli Yakar points out, there are times when it is impossible to restore what is lost. Yet even in those moments, the effort to see and care transforms us. It teaches us humility and compassion, reminding us that while we may not always succeed in fixing what is broken, the act of trying is its own kind of healing.
To develop "eyes that see the lost" is to live with purpose and awareness. It is to train ourselves to notice what others dismiss, to care for what is neglected, and to restore wholeness where there is brokenness. It is to see not only what is lost but also what is possible—to recognize the intrinsic value in everything and everyone. In practicing this mitzvah, we align ourselves with the divine work of restoration, becoming partners with Hashem in bringing goodness, healing, and unity to the world. May we all learn to see with open eyes and compassionate hearts, transforming loss into redemption and restoring the world one act at a time.
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