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And on the 8th Day, Everything Was Good – Parshat Tazria/Metzora

Printable PDF available here. Previous piece on this parshah is available here.

Rav Kook (Based on Shemonah Kevatzim, 1:497)

“And G-d spoke to Moses, saying… “If a woman conceives and gives birth to a boy…on the eighth day, the flesh of his foreskin shall be circumcised.” (Vayikra 12:1-3)

The classical explanation for the mitzvah of milah[1] is that it tempers sexual desire. This explanation encompasses within it broad and fundamental principles regarding man’s place in the world and his role as a servant of G-d. We must note that the term “milah” is not fully accurate, as the correct term is brit milah – literally the “covenant of circumcision.” This mitzvah was given to Avraham as the foundation of a unique Divine covenant, part of which was G-d’s promise to him “to be a G-d to you and your descendants.”[2] By engraving the sign of this covenant into our flesh, we express that this covenant is not an peripheral, superficial part of our existence, but intrinsic to and inseparable from our very being. As Iyov (19:26) declared, מבשרי אחזה אלוק – “From my flesh, I perceive G-d.”

However, brit milah is far more than a symbolic declaration. One who understands the message of this mitzvah, who defines his essential identify by his relationship with the Divine, will exert himself to unify all of his drives and desires. He will use them to further the enlightened and righteous goals established by the Creator of those very drives and desires, who implanted them in His creations for the ultimate goodness of the world that He created. Such an individual will experience a sense of unity in his own inner world, and as a result, he will acutely perceive the inner Divine unity of the world around him.

However, not everyone reaches this lofty level. For many people, their various drives and desires pull them in different directions. Their inner world is ruptured and unharmonious, and they cannot fathom the notion of directing their desires toward a higher, overarching purpose. They gaze at the world through the lenses of their fractured and divided inner world, and thus conclude that the world itself lacks any unity or greater purpose.

Sexual desire – and the various branches of physical, imaginative, and spiritual yearnings that are encompassed within it – is the most basic and foundational of all human desires. And even this stormy, turbulent drive is one that an upright person can encompass with a spirit of nobility (lit. רוח אצילי) and harness, alongside other layers of his spiritual and physical persona, to supernal and elevated ethical purposes.

The opposite is also true. Through an obsession with the impure, unrefined dimensions of sexual desire, humanity can fall – and has fallen – into the lowest levels of iniquity. In this lowly state, one’s ability to perceive any ethical, idealistic or purposeful dimension of reality is blocked and clogged up (lit. אטום). In this sad and pathological state, humanity is savagely pessimistic and blinded to the Divine goodness that permeates existence. The notion that procreation, that bringing children into this sad and fallen world, could serve any higher ideal is not merely foreign, but seen as irrational and senseless. If existence itself is not good, how can it be ideal to bring (through procreation) additional creations into such a miserable state of being? Humanity’s sexual desires, thus estranged from any higher purpose, are left unchecked and uninhibited, resulting in devastating and brutal consequences.

But this pessimistic vision is a false one. Our Torah declares that “G-d saw all that He had created, and behold, it was exceedingly good.”[3] This perspective extends to all levels of reality, including sexual desire. This is the deeper lesson of brit milah, the removal of the foreskin, which embodies the false vision of unrestrained sexual desire. The excision of the foreskin in physical reality, through the mitzvah of brit milah, is meant to reverberate in a corresponding excision of the impure spiritual reality of unrestrained sexuality.

Tempering sexual desire through brit milah is thus neither a sign of asceticism nor an intrinsic value of its own. It is rather a Divinely prescribed corrective, so that those party to this covenant can broaden the noble dimensions of life and allow G-dly light to shine forth not only in the highest heavens, but even the ‘lowly’ fleshly levels of reality.

“From my flesh, I perceive G-d….”

[1] This explanation appears in Moreh Nevuchim of the Rambam.

[2] Bereishit 17:7.

[3] Bereishit 1:31.

Food For Thought

Rav Soloveitchik (And From There You Shall Seek, pg. 115-116): Neither Greek philosophy nor Christianity grasped the moral and metaphysical aspects of sexual intercourse. Only the Halakhah gives this act a solid basis in religious life; the commandment to “be fruitful and multiply” (Gen. 1:28) is the first one in the Torah. Marital life is pure and blessed. The life of a bachelor, even if he has never sinned, runs contrary to the View of the Halakhah. One who is not married has no joy, no blessing, and no Torah (Yevamot 62b). The Holy One, Blessed Be He, Himself engages in matchmaking (Gen. Rabbah 68:3—4). The joy of the bride and groom is very important, and anyone who participates in it receives a great reward. A husband is required to have relations with his wife at regular intervals, according to his physical ability and the conditions of his work… The Halakhah’s laws of sexual intercourse, which are based on psychological principles and sexual hygiene, are marvelous for their clear-headedness and “modernity.” How much concern, along with delicate and intimate understanding, is found in these laws! The same iron-clad Halakhah that forbids sexual intercourse when the wife is menstruating and establishes preventive measures around this restriction, also imposes an absolute duty upon man to have intercourse with his wife periodically out of love and affection…

Man worships his Creator with his body, his eating, and his sexual activity, and this worship is preferable to worship through prayer. Look and see how much is written in the Torah and the Talmud about the laws of forbidden sexual relations and forbidden foods, and how little is written about the laws of prayer. Many people who gorge themselves on food like a predatory animal in its lair and defile their sexual love life are able to pray to G-d on bent knee, but not many can eat in the presence of G-d and sanctify themselves while under attack by the sexual drive. Wherever there is a possibility of sexual activity, the Torah enjoins sanctity.

Maimonides calls his compilation of the laws of forbidden sexual relations and forbidden foods by the name “The Book of Holiness.” Sexual relations reflect the image of the human being as differentiating himself from the beasts and (while still in his body) soaring to the heights. Socratic/Platonic metaphysics, which has had such a great influence on Christianity, insists that the spirit rises upward while the body goes downward, that man is crowned with a garland of reason and has the power to soar up to the world of the Logos by devoting himself to a spiritual and intellectual calling that does not involve his real animal existence. Judaism declares [in contrast] that man earns eternal life by transforming his purposeless, animalistic, temporal existence into the holy life of the man of G-d. The former speaks about the continuing existence of the general [collective] soul, while the latter insists on individual immortality and the reawakening of the dead. The body will emerge from its grave in all its glory. Physiological drives are sanctified through the moral commandments, which are not intended to subdue this world, but rather to place upon it the crown of royalty. The Halakhah allows the creature of nature to break through to pellucid radiant expanses and new skies. It is not only the spirit but also the beast in man that worships the Creator. The Shechinah hovers over the abyss of lust and man’s animalistic, instinctual essence, and sanctifies them.

Circumcision (Neil Menussi): Western civilization, it seems, has always been trapped in the movement of an intense emotional pendulum. It travels back and forth between a worship of material nature, on the one hand, and a longing for a purely spiritual world, on the other. On the one end, Nature is depicted as a kind of incarnated divinity, a perfect, harmonious, self-balancing whole. Our purpose, according to this image, is merely to incorporate ourselves into the natural order. On the opposite end of the pendulum, Nature is depicted as an evil and threatening element, man’s purpose being to subjugate it to the rule of the rational mind, and eventually release himself from its hold and join the world of pure souls. The history of the Occident is largely a chronicle of the periodic motion, back and forth, between these two poles.

The pendulum movement is clearly evident in the history of sexuality. The West seems to be veering sharply between hedonist worldviews that sanctify the sexual impulse, and ascetic worldviews that demand a complete abnegation of sex. It was against the Greek aristocracy’s hedonism that Plato and his followers arose, claiming that the soul is trapped in the body “as in a tomb” (to this day, physically unconsummated love is named for Plato); Rome countered with its uninhibited, orgiastic lifestyle; the barbarian tribes, after the ecstasy of destroying the empire, suddenly accepted Christianity and were hurled headlong into the opposite extreme, the Catholic torment of self-flagellation; when the Catholic church sank into corruption and debauchery, the even more puritan Protestantism emerged; and when Christianity altogether lost its vitality, there arose from within her, with equal and opposite force, modern secularism, which introduced the sexual revolution of the 20th century. The West is characterized neither by total hedonism nor total asceticism; totality itself is the true leitmotif. Between one revolution and the next, in spite of all changes of shade, it appears that – inasmuch as the corporeal and the spiritual are concerned – the West is unable to break free of its either-or paradigm. Hither and thither swings the pendulum; the somber smile that it draws in the air forever remains.

Questions for Discussion

  1. Rav Kook finds a basis for his insights on brit milah in a verse in Iyov – “From my flesh, I perceive G-d.” What else might this verse mean?
  2. Why is brit milah such an important mitzvah?
  3. Do Jews perform brit milah because of the commandment to Avraham or because of the verse in this week’s parshah cited at the top of the previous page?
  4. In light of Rav Kook’s insights, why is the effort by radical secularists to abolish brit milah misguided?
  5. Rav Kook writes about “Sexual desire – and the various branches of physical, imaginative, and spiritual yearnings that are encompassed within it…” What do you think he means by other yearnings being encompassed with it?

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Earthly Purity – Parshat Metzora

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Printable PDF available here.

Translation (Orot,Orot haTechiya ):[1]

Whatever encompasses existence in all of its levels – by exerting a spiritual, ethical and holy influence – requires utmost purity. This is why we find the greatest emphasis on purity in the context of the Mikdash and the sacrificial order. These areas implicate the most lofty, sublime intellect but also the lower realms of blood and flesh, imagination and feeling. For these lower rungs, connected to the overall totality by a living bond, an exacting purity is required. They cannot be co-opted outright into Divine service.

Conversely, when the service of the Jewish people is more rarified and abstract, the details of practical purity are less necessary. After all, when the intellect is the driving force, Godly consciousness creates a fount of spiritual purity that raises up the lower realms as well. As Yirmiyahu[2]proclaims “‘Is not my word as fire?’ declares the Lord.” From here our Sages[3]derive that just as fire does not become impure, so too words of Torah cannot become impure, and so a בעל קרי is permitted to engage in Torah study.

The relationship between Divine service of the intellect and the lower realms of emotion, imagination and physicality is not static. We know that each individual has different spiritual tendencies, but the same is true of different generations as well. Different times in Jewish history have varying emphases. Latter-day Hasidism[4]turned to feeling and imagination more than to reason and action, and for this reason, stepped up the demand for bodily purity.[5]

Much earlier in Jewish history, when the Jewish people returned to Eretz Yisrael and rebuilt the Second Temple, we find that Ezra enacted a decree prohibiting a בעל קרי from engaging in Torah study until after immersion in a mikveh.[6][This decree was subsequently repealed and is no longer binding.] The timing of this decree was not happenstance. In the nascent period of the Second Temple, Ezra sought to to connect the Jewish people to the realm of the sacred and the Temple, and so purity was stressed.

But the Second Temple was destroyed. Exile impoverished the emotive and imaginative abilities, together with life’s strength and aesthetic peace. What remains is the influence of the intellect, with its abstract spiritual tendencies, combined with action. The place of the intermediate spiritual rungs – feeling and bodily proclivity – remained empty. As one of our piyutim laments,“The holy city, its sites and delights are scorned and destroyed. Nothing remains but this Torah.”[7]

For much of exile, precise purity no longer was obligatory and remained an idealistic longing, a concept of sanctity and piety reserved for individuals. Then modern Hasidism arrived and sought to implant it in the masses. Understandably there is a healthy kernel here that requires expansion and development. It is especially worthy of expansion at the time of the national renascence in the Land of Israel – in conjunction with the expanded immersion in spirituality, motivated by a healthy spiritual thirst to make healthy the whole nation and the root of its soul with all of its living quality, bodily purity being one of its strengths. Indeed, the Torah itself indicates that purity is of the greatest importance in matters of the collective:

When you go forth as a camp against your enemies, keep yourself from every evil thing. If there be among you a man that is not pure by reason of a nocturnal occurrence, he shall depart from the camp, he shall not enter within the camp. For the Lord your God goes about in the midst of your camp, to save you and to place your enemy before you, therefore your camp must be holy, that He see no unseemly thing in you and retreat from you. (Devarim 23:10)

Wherever the collective strength of Israel burgeons, there must immediately join with it a reinforcement of bodily and emotive purity. All these prepare a basis for a living, organic state of being, which encompasses the entire renascence, from the beginning of the highest abstraction to the end of the jubilation of life and its thunderous power. “I will bestow beauty in the Land of the Living [i.e. Eretz Yisrael].”[8]

[1]Largely taken from Bezalel Naor’s translation of Orot (Maggid Publishers, 2015).

[2]23:29.

[3]Gemara Berachot, 22a.

[4]Bezalel Naor notes that Rav Kook’s term for the Chasidic movement founded by the Ba‘al Shem Tov is meant to distinguish it from the movement of the medieval German pietists (most notably R. Judah haChasid of Regensburg), referred to as Chasidei Ashkenaz.

[5]Bezalel Naor notes the emphasis placed by the Chasidic movement on daily immersion in a mikvah. While this is definitely part of what Rav Kook has in mind, I think he is addressing Chasidut’s more general emphasis on conducting all physical activities with a spirit of holiness, and finding godliness in every aspect of being – and not just in Torah study.

[6]This decree was subsequently repealed and is no longer binding. However, there are halachic sources which indicate that continued observance of the decree is meritorious.

[7]העיר הקודש והמחוזות, היו לחרפה ולבזות. וכל מחמדיה טבועות וגנוזות, ואין שיור רק התורה הזאת.

[8]Yechezkel 26:20.

Commentary

This piece from Rav Kook is fascinating on its own terms, but even more so for the underlying premise. Rav Kook understands that avodat Hashem is not static and unchanging. Different periods of history can place an emphasis on different modalities or types of service. In Eretz Yisrael, more of an emphasis is placed on feeling and imagination, and hence the need for purity is greater. Outside of Eretz Yisrael, Judaism is primarily focused on the intellect. Presumably Rav Kook means that Torah study takes on an outsize importance in exile. But it seems like Rav Kook is making a much broader point – in exile, Judaism is impoverished and lacks the healthy, organic vitality that comes with collective living in Eretz Yisrael. It is only in Eretz Yisrael that one’s “emotive and imaginative abilities” can flourish and actualize themselves in every area of life.

While one can certainly disagree with this conclusion, I think it’s undeniable that the balance of the spiritual creativity and vitality in today’s Torah world comes out of Eretz Yisrael. Dynamic individuals and communities in Eretz Yisrael are creating (or at least striving to create) Jewish literature, music and even dance – and not merely literature, music and dance that happens to be created by Jews. They are developing new forms of Torah literature and innovative methods of education. I humbly submit that Jewish communities of Chutz L’Aretzstand much to gain by immersing themselves in the refreshing waters of Torat Eretz Yisraelto the greatest extent they are able. It seems like we spend far too much energy on consolidating our gains, building higher fences or arguing about whether something is ‘Orthodox’ or not. That is not to say those endeavors are not valuable, only that our efforts need to be properly calibrated. There is a wealth of spiritual vitality in Eretz Yisrael, only a plane flight or a few clicks away, and I think we’re missing out.

Also fascinating is the way Rav Kook conceptualizes of Chasidut as a meta-historic phenomenon, i.e. a retreat of the Jewish people from abstract intellectual matters and a renewed emphasis on emotion, imagination and bodily purity. Rav Kook asserts that this tendency is necessary and appropriate for the return of the Jewish People to Eretz Yisrael. If you read between the lines, it seems like Rav Kook is saying that Chasidut and Zionism both draw from the same root, which is a fascinating and provocative notion. At the very least, it can’t be a coincidence that these two movements sprung to life at concurrent periods in Jewish history….

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

  1. Rav Kook understands that different periods of history can place an emphasis on different modalities or types of avodat Hashem. What do you think is the dominant modality of our generation?
  2. How do we determine what is the dominant form of avodat Hashem in any particular generation? Is the notion of change or evolution in this area a dangerous one, since it could lead to tampering with fundamentals of Jewish law, belief or custom?
  3. Rav Kook writes that in exile, “what remains [of Judaism] is the influence of the intellect, with its abstract spiritual tendencies, combined with action.” What exactly do you think this means? How does being outside of Eretz Yisrael and without a Mikdash shift the emphasis away from emotion, imagination and bodily purity?
  4. Do you agree with my contention that Jewish life in Eretz Yisrael is more vibrant? Why or why not?
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The Birth-Offering – Parshat Tazria

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Printable PDF available here.

The beginning of Parshat Tazria teaches that a woman who has just given birth must bring a korban– specifically, an olah and a sin-offering. This concept has puzzled many of the great Torah commentators,[1] especially the requirement of a sin-offering. What has this new mother done wrong? Why is bringing new life into the world anything other than a pure, unrequited source of joy?

A second question relates to a teaching of our Sages in Gemara Shabbat (51a) and Yoma (9a). Sefer Shmuel describes the sons of Eli (the Kohen Gadol) and their service in the Mishkan at Shiloh. Eli’s sons abused their position by forcibly taking their sacrificial portions. Their worst sin, according to the reports reaching the ears of their father, was that “they slept with the women who gathered at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting”[2] The Gemara cautions against taking this verse literally,[3] and explains that they failed to promptly offer the birth-offerings. This indirectly prevented the women from returning home, because they didn’t trust the kohanim and would remain in Shiloh until they personally confirmed that their offerings were complete. Since the inattentiveness of Eli’s sons caused these women to be unnecessarily separated from their husbands, the verse refers to their irresponsible behavior as if they had slept with them. Why was it specifically this offering that fell into neglect? Our Sages also teach that this sorry affair caused the eventual destruction of the Mishkan in Shiloh. But what about the birth-offerings gives them such gravitas?

The answer to these questions takes us to the very root of Divine service, which is inseparably connected to the sanctity of life. Although we usually associate the sanctity of life with the prohibition against murder,[4] it is more than just a theoretical basis for a ‘do not.’ The sanctity of life is an imperative. Life, in all of its aspects, in its pinnacles and its crises, must draw upon its supernal Source, the Creator of all life. And even though life also includes times of trouble and distress, an unceasing Divine holiness reverberates within. No matter how deep the darkness, reaching out to G-d will restore light and natural joy, splendor and rejuvenation, nobility and grace.

The birth of a child is a wonderful occasion, bringing new life and joy to the family. But the birthing experience itself is a challenging one, involving great pain and suffering.[5] Granted, these travails are not in the forefront of the new mother’s mind, and her consciousness is suffused with joy over the new life she has brought into the world. But deep down, the difficult impressions and feelings that result from her suffering remain. Indeed, the pain of childbirth is not just a biological phenomenon, but a spiritual one, rooted in the ancient sin of Chavah and the beginnings of humanity. The birth-offering allows the new mother to elevate the birthing experience. She rectifies the shortcomings caused by the rebellious tendencies of the human heart, and finds her soul uplifted in feelings of love for the greatness of the Creator of all life, who Himself overflows with love for all of his creations.

Thus, the birth-offerings, more than any other korban, express the inseparable connection between the Temple service and our moral intuition (lit.מוסר האנושי הטהור) that life, in all of its fulness, is intrinsically good. But Eli’s children lost sight of this. There was no room in their hearts for the concerns of the masses, nor for their emotions and their struggles. Life and the moral intuitions that reside in every pure heart – these they regarded with contempt. In their mistaken arrogance, Eli’s children regarded the Temple service as an end of itself, and viewed their priesthood as an entitlement to parade over the people. This is why our Sages teach that they specifically neglected the birth-offerings. The birth-offerings epitomize the harmony between the Temple service and sanctification of life. They encapsulate the foundation of the entire avodah – that life, harmony and peace in family life are all desired by G-d.

But Eli’s children had lost sight of this. Thus, our Sages teach that the neglect of the birth-offerings resulted in the destruction of the Mishkan in Shiloh. The absence of ethical sensitivity, the lack of integrity and compassion, the artificial divide between life and morality and the Temple service – all of this meant that the Mishkan was permeated with moral decay and no longer served its purpose. The result was not a punishment, but simply an acknowledgement by G-d that it suffered from a corruption that only destruction could correct.

Food For Thought [6]

“Judaism is in love with life, for it knows that life is G-d’s great question to mankind; and the way a man lives, what he does with his life, the meaning he is able to implant in it—is man’s reply. Actual life is the partner to the spirit; without the one the other is meaningless. The teachings of the Torah can therefore reveal their real sense only when there is a concrete reality to which they are applied. On the one hand we have Torah, trying to give shape to the raw material of life which is so reluctant and evasive; on the other, each bit of Torah-shaped life: In social institutions, in economic arrangements, in the relations between man and his neighbors, in the street and in the market as well as in the places of worship —living Torah, acting on the very intentions of Sinai. For just as Torah shapes life, so does Torah-shaped life, in its turn, direct and thus unfold Torah, It is as if the Torah were using its own experiences, to set the: course of its development. And in each new phase, it strives again to fashion our lives, which, once refashioned, will again inform the meaning of the teaching as it has been previously revealed. And so on to eternity: Torah leading life, and Torah-led life unfolding Torah…

Ever wonder where Eli’s children got their mindset from? Consider the following: [7]

  • Eli’s response to the evil reports about his children (Shmuel Aleph, 2:24-25): “No, my sons, for the rumor which I hear the Lord’s people spreading, is not good.If man will sin to man, the judge will judge him. If, however, he will sin against G-d, who will intercede in the judgment in his behalf?” Does that sound right to you? Is that what we believe? (See Mishnah Yoma 8:7, and Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 506:1).
  • Eli’s reaction to the terrible events decreed as G-d’s punishment (Shmuel Aleph 4:18): “And the one who had reported the news, answered and said, ‘Israel fled before the Philistines, and also there was a great slaughter among the people, and also your two sons perished, Chofni and Pinchas and the Ark of G-d was taken.’ And it was, when he mentioned the Ark of G-d, that he (Eli) fell off the chair backward through the gate opening, and his neck broke and he died, because the man was old and weighty and he had judged Israel for forty years.” Two of his children just died and Jewish soldiers have been massacred – but what causes him to topple over in shock?
  • “And his daughter-in-law, Phinehas’ wife, was with child, ready to give birth, and she heard the news concerning the taking of the Ark of G-d, and that her father-in-law and her husband had died. And she knelt and gave birth, for her pains had suddenly come upon her…. And she called the child Ichabod (lit. אי–כבוד), saying, “Glory (lit. כבוד) has been exiled from Israel, because the Ark of G-d has been taken, and because of her father-in-law and her husband.”(Shmuel Aleph 4:19, 21) Read her words closely – what does she seem more concerned about, the loss of the Ark or the death of her father-in-law and husband?

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

  1. Rav Kook asserts that the sanctity of life is a fundamental value in Judaism. Are there any mitzvot or practices we have that you think express this idea?
  2. אחד מי יודעis one of the piyutim we read at the Pesach seder. Pull out your Haggadah and see if you can pick out one stanza that doesn’t seem to fit, but which Rav Kook’s insights may explain.
  3. What change can you make in your own day-to-day existence to be more aware of the sanctity of life?
  4. The sanctity of life is one ethical intuition, but there are many others. How do we know when we can rely on our ethical intuitions? Can’t they lead us astray?

[1]Rabbi Jonathan Sacks summarizes the most well-known answers in his Covenant & Conversation for this week. In no particular order: (i) the offerings recall the sin of Eve and her punishment (Rabbeinu Bachye, Kli Yakar); (ii) during the anguish of labor, a woman may have thought or expressed ideas that were sinful or that she now regrets (such as vowing not to have future relations with her husband) (Ibn Ezra); (iii) the sacrifices are a kind of “ransom” or relief offering for having survived the dangers of childbirth, as well as a form of prayer for a full recovery (Ramban); (iv) the woman has been intensely focused on the physical processes accompanying childbirth. She needs both time and the bringing of an offering to rededicate her thoughts to G-d and matters of the spirit (Sforno); the burnt offering is like an olat re’iya, an offering brought when appearing at the Temple on festivals, following the injunction, “Do not appear before Me empty- handed” (Ex. 23:15). The woman celebrates her ability to appear before G-d at the Temple (Meshech Chochmah).

[2]Shmuel Aleph, Perek 2:22.

[3]However, see Chiddushei haRitva in Yoma, who notes that some Tannaim may actually interpret their sin literally.

[4]“One who spills another’s blood, by others his blood shall be shed, because G-d created man in his image.” (Bereishit 9:5) In contemporary society, the concept of ‘sanctity of life’ is often invoked regarding abortion.

[5]Rav Moshe Lichtenstein notes– “According to Rabbinic thinking throughout the ages, the attitude to a pregnant woman, and even more so to a woman giving birth, is that it is a situation in which the woman’s life is in danger (חולה שיש בו סכנה). In the wake of advances in medical devices and technology, we have come to forget that the woman is in mortal danger. In the past, many women died during childbirth. We know this already from the matriarch Rachel, who died in childbirth after bearing her second son, Binyamin. That which is so self-evident to us today is actually a series of great miracles and kindnesses that we must remember and gratefully acknowledge each and every moment.”

[6]From Rav Eliezer Berkowitz, cited in the “Faith and Freedom Passover Haggadah,” pg. 47-78.

[7]All of these insights are taken from R. Benny Lau’s fantastic and highly-recommended book שמואל – בקדוש חזיתיך.

Our Great Engraver – Parshat V’Zot haBeracha

Printable PDF available here. Previous pieces on V’Zot haBeracha can be found here and here.

Rav Kook (Based on Pinkesei haRe’iah, ח׳א ע׳ קצה–קצו)

He [the tribe of Dan] saw the first portion for himself, because there, the portion of the lawgiver (lit. מחוקק) [Moshe] is hidden. (Devarim 33:21)

Sealing and engraving are both ways of affixing words to an object, but they work in fundamentally different ways. A signet ring contains an engraved or raised design that is pressed into wax. The imprint of the seal is not apparent until the ring is removed and the wax has had time to set. Furthermore, the material that the seal is applied to must be weak and pliable, flexible enough to absorb the imprint of the seal and then harden. A strong and rigid substance simply cannot be used.

Engraving works in a very different way. The harder the material one engraves in, the more enduring and durable their message will be. Thus, what is a deficiency for the act of sealing is a necessity in the process of engraving. Furthermore, when one engraves words into a hard medium, the result of their work is apparent immediately, even before he has lifted his tools from the stone.

In this parshah, Moshe is referred to as a mechokek, an engraver. Moshe did not simply deliver the Torah to Israel at Sinai, like a prophetic mailman bringing a letter from heaven to an eager audience. Moshe’s Torah was engraved upon our very being while G-d held the mountain itself over our heads. According to the Midrash, interpreting the verse “the voice of the Lord sunders through fiery flames” (קול ה׳ חוצב להבות אש) (Tehillim 29:7), the Ten Commandments emanated from G-d as fire and became engraved on the stone luchot. The impact of the Divine word, in all of its might and force, was manifest immediately, both upon the luchot and upon Israel itself. For these reasons, Moshe is referred to as a mechokek, an engraver, and the very end of the Torah refers to his “strong hand” (lit. היד החזקה).

However, this is only one dimension of Torah. For the Torah is not only engraved upon our hearts, but sealed as well. In other words, the full impact of the Torah did not become fully manifest in Moshe’s generation or at Mount Sinai. Like wax that hardens gradually, only after being imprinted by a signet ring, there are depths of Torah that take generations to manifest and assume their form. This dimension of Torah is constituted by minhagim and rabbinic enactments, which developed only after the revelation at Sinai. Furthermore, like the soft wax that a signet ring is pressed into, these parts of Jewish life are dependent on the acceptance of the community for their binding force. Indeed, the Talmud speaks of various rabbinic enactments that were initially rejected by the broader community and did not receive universal acceptance until later generations. And although it took time for these dimensions of Torah to develop, once the ‘wax’ had ‘set,’ the G-dly design expressed in minhagim and rabbinic enactments became immutable, to the point that our Sages (Talmud Yerushalmi, Berachot 1:4) teach that rabbinic laws are treated even more strictly than those of the Torah itself.

Questions for Discussion

  1. What is the purpose of minhagim in Torah life? Why do we keep them?
  2. Many commentators ask why G-d had to hold the mountain over our heads at the giving of the Torah, inasmuch as the people had already willingly agreed to accept it. Based on Rav Kook’s insights, can you suggest an answer?
  3. What are some aspects of Torah life that only developed after the Torah was given?
  4. Rav Kook writes that not all dimensions of Torah became manifest immediately at Har Sinai. If that is the case, how do we distinguish legitimate developments in Torah from illegitimate ones?
  5. What is unique about Simchat Torah compared to other holidays? Is Simchat Torah part of the “sealing” of Torah or the “engraving” of Torah?
  6. The Torah says that the Ten Commandments were engraved (חרות) on the luchot. In Pirkei Avot, our Sages teach that “Only one who engages in Torah is free,” vocalizing חרות as cheirut (freedom) instead of charut (engraved). Does this fit with Rav Kook’s analysis that engraving is something imprinted on stone by force, as opposed to the soft and pliable wax used with a seal? If so, how?

The Measure of all Things – Sukkot

Rav Kook (Olat Rei’ah)

 “And you shall take for yourselves on the first day [the product of hadar trees, branches of palm trees, boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook, and you shall rejoice before the Lord your G-d seven days.]” (Vayikra 23:40) But is it the first day? Is it not the fifteenth day [of Tishrei]? So how is it the first? Rather, it is the first for the reckoning of sins (lit. ראשון לחשבון עוונות). (Midrash Tanchum, Parshat Emor)

Between Yom Kippur and Succos, from the perspective of supernal wisdom, this world and the world-to-come are integrated as one. Whatever strengthens the world-to-come strengthens this world; and whatever strengthens this world strengthens the world-to-come. In accordance with that illuminated [awareness], there is no room for severities at all, but only absolute, full and fragrant kindnesses.

However, from the perspective of the image of the spiritual world, which is in the process of being perfected by “Supernal Understanding, [a plane that] provides the initial parameters of levels of reality, this world and the world-to-come each acquires its own boundary. And clearly, since there is a dividing line, this world has no place at all wherever the world-to-come shines in the might of [its] fullness. That is the foundation of teshuvah that comes from an illumination of the world-to-come in all the fullness of its beauty.

With [our] ascent on Yom Kippur, we are very much removed from this world, and we need to be guarded from all stumbling blocks when we confront matters of this world. The days between Yom Kippur and Succos were given to train [us to] return to matters of this world in a properly holy manner.

That is an accounting that is completed on the first day of Succos with the mitzvos of succah and lulav, when this-worldly matters gain a foundation and grasp on holiness. And therefore Succos is “the first day of the accounting of sins.”

It may be that the extremist inclination of Yom Kippur has caused the subtlest inclination toward the aspect of this world on those four days when the scale has not yet been properly balanced. But the holiness of Yom Kippur [then] covers everything.

Certainly, whoever senses the inner quality of Yom Kippur and the manifestation of the world-to-come within it and [then] the ferment within the days between Yom Kippur and Succos caused by the search to restore the role of this world to its position of power is literally far from all sin.

However, even the refined character of the scale is to be considered within the realm of transgression and sin when it is inexact. Therefore, only the first day of the holiday [of Succos] is properly “the first day of the accounting,” for then the scale returns to [its] balance, and it becomes possible to provide a measurement for the [sake of] building and guiding the world in the proper measure.

Rav Moshe Weinberger (Song of Teshuva, Vol. 2, Pg. 299)

The Torah calls Succos rishon – the first [day].” Yet Succos is the fifteenth day of the month and of the new year. Our Sages explain the word rishon to mean that Succos is the first day of the accounting of sins following the atonement gained on Yom Kippur (lit. ראשון לחשבון עוונות). We must look more deeply into what that means. It certainly does not mean that there is a time off from personal accountability.

From the perspective of truth on the highest level, there is no separation between this world and the next. Everything is one. From the perspective of supernal, unified perfection, anything that strengthens the world-to-come strengthens this world, and vice versa. From that ideal perspective, there is no separation.

However, from our point of view, a person who wants to earn entrance to the world-to-come must guard himself from the dangers of this world. We must indeed be careful, because we exist in a diminished state. On our level of apprehending reality, there is this world and the next, and we are afraid that our dealings with this world will prevent us from attaining the next. We see this world as an impediment in the way of the world-to-come.

It appears to us that these are two separate kingdoms – the kingdom of holiness and the kingdom of darkness – that have nothing to do with each other. But that is not true, Heaven forbid. From the perspective of higher wisdom, the perspective of tzaddikim, there is no conflict between above and below, between the world-to-come and this world. Therefore, any progress made in strengthening the world to-come strengthens this world. And any work that strengthens this world strengthens the world-to-come as well.

With this illuminated awareness, there is no room for any suffering. There exist only complete and total kindnesses – which tzaddikim are able to perceive even in every point of suffering.

The tzaddik who lives with the awareness that both worlds are one sees even a dysfunctional element in this world as part of a greater movement of both worlds progressing simultaneously – a movement that is entirely good and filled with kindnesses.

G-d wanted a universe in which people would be able to serve Him with free will and teshuvah. To that end, He created a reality in which we perceive boundaries that separate the world above from this world. G-d willed that there should be levels and separations, that there should be one o’clock and two o’clock, that there should be Yerushalayim and New York. From that perspective, the world-to-come and this world have each acquired its own boundary and realm, and there is such a vast distance between the two that they have no connection.

But on the innermost level, from the perspective of supernal wisdom, there is no difference. From that perspective, space and time do not exist. There is no separation between levels of holiness. It is all one.

With the exception of the exalted tzaddikim, we live in a reality in which a border separates this world from the next. From our perspective, this world has no relevance to the world-to-come shining in all of its splendor. Imagine a person in the middle of Neilah at the Kosel interrupted by someone who asks him, “Are you looking forward to going to Kosher Delight in New York?” If that person possesses the perspective of lower, diminished reality in which borders exist, he will be shocked. Because he is at present filled with the reality of the world-to-come, for him there is no room for New York and hamburgers. There is a dividing line between them. They are two separate worlds. But that is because he is not in a place of absolute oneness. If he were in such a place, he might generate a profusion of kabbalistic insights on how New York and the Kosel are one.

We are shocked even to hear such a thought. But that is only because we have experienced great descents. And that is not our fault, for G-d has created that line of demarcation. That line makes it possible for a Jew for whom the most important thing is Kosher Delight to attain a supernal taste of the Kosel during Neilah so that he can make the choice to do teshuvah. Even as a person stands in New York on a weekday, he can experience a taste of the Kosel during Neilah.

On Yom Kippur, a Jew enters the realm of the world-to-come, where “tzaddikim sit with their crowns on their heads and delight in G-d’s Presence” (Berachos 17a). There is no eating, no drinking, and no marital relations. He wears a kittel which is a garment of the next world.

Because G-d has placed us in a world of borders and separate realities so that we may have free choice, after our great ascent on Yom Kippur we are far from this mundane world, and from our perspective there are no compromises. A person is religious or secular, spiritual or brutish. Sometimes when a person in such a state of consciousness returns to this physical world, when he realizes that he is no longer solely a spiritual being, he goes to the other extreme and indulges in the coarsest sins. A person must therefore descend gently, in a proper and holy manner. And the time for that gentle descent is provided by the four days between Yom Kippur and Succos.

Succos is the “time of our joy” (Siddur) – our joy in this world. We shift from inhabiting the world-to-come to immersing ourselves in this world. Succos comprises our most this-worldly festival. On Succos, holiness is expressed with taking the products of the earth: waving the lulav and esrog and dwelling in the succah. If a person were to go straight from Yom Kippur to Succos, he might not stop with enjoying the succah and lulav and esrog, but connect to physical pleasures in an unbridled way. Thus, he descends slowly during the four days between Yom Kippur and Succos. That period concludes with the first day of Succos, when we dwell in the succah, wave the lulav and esrog and celebrate with Simchas Beis HaShoevah, strengthening our connection to this world by lifting it up to holiness.

That is not to say that there is a time when sins are not taken account of. There are no days off from Yiddishkeit…[But Sukkot] is the first day that a person is properly balanced so that he can exercise his free choice by functioning as a world-to-come person in this world…

During these four days between Yom Kippur and Succos, the proper balance between the world-to-come and this world has not yet been established. But during that time, the holiness of Yom Kippur still hovers above everything. There is an effervescent excitement during these four days, as this world once again asks to be properly and fully recognized.

As a person went through Yom Kippur, he rejected this world. Now, during the days between Yom Kippur and Succos, the world is saying, “Come back. G-d wants you to be here. He wants you to perfect this world and make proper choices in it.” Anyone could be on a Yom Kippur level. Even non-religious Jews fast on Yom Kippur. But the ultimate goal is to eat in holiness. That is represented by Succos. The purpose is not to be celibate but to be married and holy. The purpose is not to sit crying under a tallis but to dance and rejoice with one’s friends under a tallis.

Because a person is no longer in the world-to-come, because he has left Yom Kippur and has returned to this world, some distortion can take place. It is only on the first day of Succos that he is restored to a healthy, proper understanding and balance in this world.

The Harmony of Israel – Parshat Ha’azinu

Printable PDF available here. Previous pieces on Ha’azinu are available here and here.

We are approaching the end of the third year of Mareh Kohen. If you are interested in having Mareh Kohen continue (or have any suggestions/feedback), please leave a comment to this post.  

Rav Kook (Based on B’sadeh haRe’iah, Pg. 194)

And now, write for yourselves this song, and teach it to the Children of Israel. Place it into their mouths, in order that this song will be for Me as a witness for the children of Israel. (Devarim 31:19)

And Moses came and spoke all the words of this song into the ears of the people, he and Hoshea the son of Nun. (Devarim 32:44)

On a simple level, the “song” referred to here is the parshah of Ha’azinu. However, a deeper interpretation offered by our tradition is that the entire Torah is referred to a song. This is the basis of the mitzvah that every Jew must write their own sefer Torah. It is unclear, however, why G-d has to speak in code and refer to the Torah as a “song,” as we don’t find this usage anywhere else. There must be some deeper meaning intended, but what is it?

It seems that the answer is latent in the broader context in which Ha’azinu appears. Immediately before, in Parshat Nitzavim, the Jews entered into a new covenant with G-d at the Plains of Moav. At that time, Moshe declared:

You are all standing this day before the Lord, your G-d the leaders of your tribes, your elders and your officers, every man of Israel, your young children, your women, and your convert who is within your camp both your woodcutters and your water drawers, that you may enter the covenant of the Lord, your G-d, and His oath, which the Lord, your G-d, is making with you this day…

Although Israel was already bound by the covenant at Sinai, our Sages teach that this covenant added a new dimension of obligation. At Sinai, the people had pledged fealty to G-d as individuals. Each person assumed responsibility for their own individual spiritual successes and failures – but nothing more. However, according to the Talmud (Sotah 37b), at the Plains of Moav the people accepted responsibility for each other’s fulfillment or non-fulfillment of the Divine covenant. The Talmud refers to this is arvut, literally “guarantorship.” Just as a lender can collect from the guarantor when the borrower fails to pay, each Jew is a guarantor for his or her fellow’s loyalty to the Divine covenant. A laissez-faire policy of “live and let live” is not a Jewish concept.

Our Sages also teach (Sanhedrin 43b) that the additional covenant of arvut did not come into force until the Jews entered Eretz Yisrael. For it is only in Eretz Yisrael that Torah life is a totalizing affair undertaken by the collective (lit. הכלל), instead of the pursuit of a conglomeration of like-minded individuals.

Thus, as Moshe prepares to teach Parshat Ha’azinu to the people, the higher collective dimension of Torah stands ready to emerge, beckoning from just beyond the Jordan River. For this reason, it is only now that the Torah can be referred to as a “song.” As the Maharal taught, true song emerges from a state of wholeness and completeness (lit. שלימות). The Torah can only rise to this level in the Land of Israel, but nowhere else. Thus, it was only in anticipation of Israel’s imminent entry into the Land that Torah became a song. Only in Israel can the song of the Torah be written on our hearts.

Food for Thought

Rabbi Josh Flug (Arvut: The Responsibility to Ensure that Other Jews Observe Mitzvot): The Magen Avraham seems to be of the opinion that the obligation of arvut is more important than fulfilling one’s own mitzvah in a preferred manner. He rules (671:1) that if one has the exact amount of oil to fulfill mehadrin on Chanukah and one’s neighbor doesn’t have any oil, one should give some oil to the neighbor and both will fulfill the basic mitzvah. R. Chaim Sofer (1822-1886, Machaneh Chaim 3:19) explains that Magen Avraham’s ruling is based on the concept of arvut. Magen Avraham (658:12) also rules that if one owns an etrog in a place where the community has one available for everyone to use and there is another community that doesn’t have any etrogim, he should send his private etrog to the other community and fulfill his obligation with his community’s etrog. R. Shammai Gross (Shevet HaKehati, Orach Chaim 5:108) explains that Magen Avraham’s ruling is based on the idea that the etrog owner’s obligation of arvut demands that he forgo the preferred method of fulfilling the mitzvah in order that other people should be able to fulfill the basic requirement.

Rambam (Hilchot Tefillin, Mezuzah and Sefer Torah 8:1): It is a positive commandment for each and every Jewish man to write a Torah scroll for himself, as it says (Devarim 31:19): “And now, write down this song for yourselves,” i.e., write down the [entire] Torah which contains this song. One may not write only a few parshiot of Torah [and therefore the command to write Ha’azinu translates is in effectively a command to write the entire Torah].

Rabbi Zushe Greenberg: In the ‘60s, a rabbi from Connecticut had a personal audience with the [Lubavitcher] rebbe. This rabbi had been very instrumental in establishing the local Jewish day school and was well respected in his community. He asked the rebbe if he should make aliyah to Israel. The rebbe responded, “If you made up your mind to go, you have my blessing. But if you ask my opinion, I think you should stay in Connecticut.” The rebbe concluded, “There are plenty of rabbis in Israel. Connecticut needs you!” The rebbe inspired generations of young couples to leave their hometowns and go off into the world to share their Jewish experience with others. In my own family, many of my siblings moved to far-flung corners of the world just to be part of the building of a new Jewish community.

Rabbi Ezra Bick: We have all been brought up in an extremely individualistic ethos, which pervades the western world today. Man is responsible for himself. Of course, most of us – and most western societies – accept that I should help my fellow man. This is called altruism, and serves to moderate extreme individualism to some extent. But altruism is very different from the ethos that lies behind arvut; in fact, it is almost the opposite. Arvut declares that I am responsible for others just as I am responsible for myself. It is not goodheartedness to help others, it is collective self-interest. The failure of my neighbor is not merely a lost opportunity for me to have practiced philanthropy, it is simply my own failure.

For the forty years in the desert each Jewish individual had a relationship with G-d based on the fact that he too had received the Torah. At this point, before entering the Land of Israel (i.e., before entering on the road of national destiny), G-d molds these disparate individuals into a nation, a collective, a community. … The covenant is not between the individual and G-d, but between the metaphysical entity called Israel and G-d. The nation as a whole and as a unity is given the Torah this time; hence the conclusion of arvut – if the nation as a whole and as a unity does not keep the Torah, the covenant has not been fulfilled…

In the beginning of this week’s shiur, I began with the application of “arvut” to a ritual matter, in order to demonstrate that the concept should be taken seriously and not merely as a sort of metaphor for a general obligation to look out for others. But of course, the concept has immediate applications in many other areas as well. My attitude towards other Jews is one of obligation – mutual obligation and responsibility. If another Jew is in trouble, I will go to help him, not merely because I think that helping others is an ethical imperative, and I am a generous and helpful soul, but because we both belong to a greater unit which binds us and defines my own identity. Were I not to help him, I would not only sin against him, but I would be untrue to myself, to my identity as a Jew. I do not mean to belittle generosity, not at all. Giving to others, “chesed,” is itself a powerful and essential trait, one defined halakhically as basic to the image of G-d in which all of us are created… The concept of arvut is a parallel one, based not on love and giving, but on responsibility. Think of it as family – above and beyond, and totally separately from the obligations of giving and feelings of love, one takes care of one’s children because one is responsible for them, because one belongs to a unit – the family – that is part of one’s individual personality and identity. I think that if we knew a mother who took care of her children, in a perfectly wonderful manner, only out of the pity and love that one has for one’s fellow man, or even out of the love that one naturally has for one’s offspring, there would be something missing. The practical difference perhaps is what happens when one is tired or grouchy, or if the child is unworthy or unwilling, but I think the point is true even if there is no immediate practical difference at all. Arvut seeks to raise the responsibility of family to a higher level.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (Covenant and Conversation, Ha’azinu 5777): Music has extraordinary power to evoke emotion. The Kol Nidrei prayer with which Yom Kippur begins is not really a prayer at all. It is a dry legal formula for the annulment of vows. There can be little doubt that it is its ancient, haunting melody that has given it its hold over the Jewish imagination. It is hard to hear those notes and not feel that you are in the presence of G-d on the Day of Judgment, standing in the company of Jews of all places and times as they plead with heaven for forgiveness. It is the holy of holies of the Jewish soul… Faith is more like music than science. Science analyses, music integrates. And as music connects note to note, so faith connects episode to episode, life to life, age to age in a timeless melody that breaks into time. G-d is the composer and librettist. We are each called on to be voices in the choir, singers of G-d’s song. Faith is the ability to hear the music beneath the noise. So music is a signal of transcendence. The philosopher and musician Roger Scruton writes that it is “an encounter with the pure subject, released from the world of objects, and moving in obedience to the laws of freedom alone.” He quotes Rilke: “Words still go softly out towards the unsayable / And music, always new, from palpitating stones / builds in useless space its G-dly home.” The history of the Jewish spirit is written in its songs…

Questions for Discussion

  1. How is Jewish life in Eretz Yisrael different than in the Diaspora?
  2. Read the story about the Lubavitcher Rebbe in “Food for Thought” above. How did arvut shape his relationship to Eretz Yisrael differently than Rav Kook’s?
  3. What can you do to take responsibility for the spiritual or physical welfare of other Jews?
  4. Rav Kook’s teaching is based on the Maharal, who writes that “True song emerges from a state of wholeness and completeness.” What do you think this means?
  5. In what way is it true that “a state of wholeness and completeness” is only attainable in the Land of Israel? Conversely, are there things that the Jews can accomplish in the Diaspora that they can’t accomplish in the Land of Israel?
  6. What are some other ways that the Torah can be considered a “song”?

Might and Right – Parshat Vayeilech

Printable PDF available here. A previous piece on Parshat Vayeilech is available here.

Be strong and courageous! Neither fear, nor be dismayed of them [the Canaanite nations], for the Lord, your G-d He is the One Who goes with you. He will neither fail you, nor forsake you. (Devarim 31:6)

Rav Kook (Based on Orot haMilchamah 2)

Our ancestors are depicted in Tanach as deeply involved in warfare, and at the same time, they are the same towering spiritual personalities whom we cherish and glorify. We understand that warfare is not an intrinsically detestable pursuit, for the spiritual spark [that drives one toward warfare] is the determining factor. That state of the world at that time made war indispensable for our very survival. This gave rise to mighty souls who rushed into battle with a complete and ethical inner disposition. With an inner discernment, they realized that Israel’s battle for existence against its enemies was a Divine War (lit. מלחמת ה׳).

Mighty in spirit, they knew to choose good and eschew evil in the depth of darkness. “Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.” Notwithstanding the spirituality that we yearn for, contemplating these warriors spurs us to long for their strength, for the powerful force of life that immaculately dwelled within them. Out of this very longing, our spiritual strength is fortified, our physical might is refined, and the great souls [of Biblical warriors] return among us as in days of old.

Rav Kook (Orot haTeshuva 12:2)

The more that a person delves into the essence of teshuva, he will find the source of gevurah and the most essential foundation of life in all of its practical and ideal aspects.

Rav Kook (Based on Orot haTeshuva 13:8)

A person’s conscience cries out to him “Son of man! Return from your sins!” – but sometimes this voice becomes so noisy that it downs out all of life’s harmony. The demands of our inner ethical voice are sometimes so powerful that they confound us, making us feel that there is no escape from the confinement of our negative character traits and deeds that have strayed from the path of Torah and morality. Our way seems fenced in with thorns and we see ourselves as beyond repair. Often, one feels that the only respite from this crisis lies in leaping to lofty spiritual levels that will ultimately prove unsustainable. But this is not the way. In the midst of bitter spiritual crisis, a person must support himself with holy gevurah. From the midst of distress, a “sun of righteousness [with healing in its wings]” (Michah 3:20) will emerge.

Rav Kook (Orot haTeshuva 16:4)

According to our Sages (Gemara Avoda Zara 19a), the highest level of teshuva is performed when one is still possessed of youthful vigor, and not in old age when one is no longer possessed powerful drives and temptations. In their words, “Praiseworthy is one who does teshuva when he is full of life and vigor” (lit. אשרי מי שעושה תשובה כשהוא איש). By implication, it is equally true that “Praiseworthy is one who is full of life and vigor when he does teshuva”! The ideal of teshuva is thus inseparable from gevurah.

Rav Kook (Midot ha’Reiah, Pachdanut)

Fearfulness is utter foolishness. A person’s task is not to be afraid, but rather to be careful. The more that a person lives in trepidation, the more he is liable to stumble. And many times, frightfulness itself is a cause of failure and error. Therefore, a person must strengthen his intellect to comprehend that there is nothing to be afraid of. Impressions of terror come from scattered brushstrokes of a great painting that must be seen in its completeness. When integrated as part of a larger whole, these impressions bring confidence and vigor instead of trepidation. After being transformed, what was once perceived as demonic and nightmarish shadows become a source of support and assistance. Once their vile and destructive character becomes eliminated, they bring joy and broaden a person’s mind, and their life force is transformed into an encouraging force of holy courage. “They will attain joy and rejoicing” (Isaiah 35:10). “The joy of the Lord is your strength” (Nechemiah 8:10).

Food for Thought

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks: There is a line early on in the Bible that encapsulates precisely the dilemma of the war in Iraq. Jacob is returning home after an absence of many years. He hears that his brother, Esau, is coming to meet him with a force of 400 men. It does not augur well. Jacob had left home in the first place because Esau was threatening to kill him. Was he now about to carry out that threat?

We read that “Jacob was very afraid and distressed”. An ancient rabbinic commentator, puzzled by the apparent repetition, made a distinction between the two emotions: “Jacob was very afraid — that he might be killed. He was distressed — that he might be forced to kill.” The first fear was physical, the second moral.

Later commentators raised a question about this interpretation. Why, they asked, should Jacob be distressed at the prospect of killing if it was to save his own life? The right to life presupposes the right to self-defence. If so, he should have had no qualms. Yet those who care for life must be distressed at any loss of life, even when justified. It is one thing to be faced with a choice between good and evil; another to be forced to choose the lesser of two evils. No decent human being takes the latter lightly. There are times when even doing the right thing involves distress.

Yisrael Kashkin (Seforimblog.com): One finds in some parts of the frum world an intense focus on divine wrath. It may work successfully for many people. However, it is not productive for some, particularly when administered in large doses. I know of people who literally suffered nervous breakdowns from the continuous feeling of failure and terror. Moreover, the “terror of Heaven” approach does not go well with the… sensibility of optimism, responsibility, self-respect, and healthy ambition as primary motivations in life.

Sridei Eish (The Torah of Life, As Understood by Rav S. R. Hirsch): [Rabbi Weinberg discusses medieval European Jewish life, and the effects of persecution, pogroms, banning of Jews from trades, and expulsions.] Judaism no longer drew direct sustenance from life; it no longer was synonymous with the abundant power which dwells in the Jewish soil. Rather, it began to be viewed as being nourished by fear -‒ of death and of awesome punishments in the world to come. It is true that belief in reward and punishment is a fundamental of Judaism, and indeed, no religion worthy of the name can dispense with a concept which logically follows from the idea of an omniscient and omnipresent Supreme Being, as clearly elucidated by Saadia HaGaon in his Emunot V’deiot. However, the use of this belief as a central pillar or religious feeling and the sole motivating force for the fulfillment of one’s duty served only to cast a pall over religious sensibility and weakened any spiritual vitality, as decried by the Chassidic masters.

Maimonides (Hilchot Teshuva 2:1): What is complete teshuvah? A person who confronts the same situation in which he sinned when he has the potential to commit [the sin again], and, nevertheless, abstains and does not commit it because of his teshuva alone and not because of fear or a lack of strength.

For example, a person engaged in illicit sexual relations with a woman. Afterwards, they met in privacy, in the same country, while his love for her and physical power still persisted, and nevertheless, he abstained and did not transgress. This is a complete ba’al teshuvah. This was implied by King Solomon in his statement (Kohelet 12:1) “Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, [before the bad days come and the years draw near when you will say: ‘I have no desire for them’”].

If he does not repent until his old age, at a time when he is incapable of doing what he did before, even though this is not a high level of repentance, he is [still] a ba’al teshuvah.

Questions for Discussion

  1. Rav Kook says that both warfare and teshuva require gevurah. What other areas of Jewish life require gevurah in order to be carried out properly?
  2. According to Rav Kook, Tanach contains many “towering spiritual personalities whom we cherish and glorify” that were involved in warfare. How many can you name?
  3. What are some dangers of religious observance that is excessively focused on divine wrath?
  4. In the pieces above, Rav Kook talks about the connection between gevurah and teshuva. What do you think is the best way to translate the word gevurah?
  5. Are there any individuals that you know or have read about whose lives embody the principle of gevurah and overcoming obstacles?
  6. Rav Kook writes that “A person’s task is not to be afraid, but rather to be careful.” What do you think this means?
  7. What does Pirkei Avot say about gevurah?
  8. Why is gevurah necessary for teshuva?

Standing Before G-d, on One Leg – Parshat Nitzavim/Vayeilech

Printable PDF available here. Previous years’ pieces on Nitzavim/Vayeilech are available here and here.

Rav Kook (Based on Midbar Shur, Drush 9)

“You are all standing this day before the Lord your G-d, the leaders of your tribes, your elders and your officers, every man of Israel, your young children, your women, and your convert who is within your camp both your woodcutters and your water-drawers…” (Devarim 29:9-11)

The essence of Rosh haShanah, the dominant motif of the entire day, is G-d’s judgment of the entire world. However, the Talmud Yerushalmi teaches that G-d does not render His judgment until the daytime. Thus, we must wonder about the nature of Rosh haShanah night. Are we simply sitting in the ‘waiting room’ until the Heavenly Court convenes the next morning?

It seems that this is not the case. Rosh haShanah night has a distinct character and avodah of its own. Specifically, it is a time for each individual to join their heart to the other members of G-d’s nation. Indeed, as long as person is judged as an individual, tremendous merits are needed to earn a favorable judgment. And if one needs to entreat or beseech G-d for forgiveness, our tradition teaches that G-d is always close to the collective (lit. ציבור), while an individual must seek out opportune moments, such as the Aseret Yemei Teshuva.

Thus, in anticipation of standing before G-d in judgment, we attempt to draw on the merit of the collective, and thus ensure our inscription in the Book of Life. We do this by fortifying our love for other Jews – the mitzvah of ואהבת לרעך כמוך. This mitzvah is rooted in, and also results in, a transformation of identity. Someone who loves other Jews ceases focusing on the external divisions that separate us from one another. He realizes that all of Israel partakes of a single collective soul, like strands of a rope that are bound together.[1] Our spiritual essence is one; it is only in the physical world, the world of externals that we are we separated from each other.

But collective merit is not sufficient on its own. A person cannot lead a deficient and unexamined spiritual life and then opt to fall back lazily on being a member of Israel. He must also do his own spiritual work and accrue his own merits.

Hillel, the Talmudic Sage, expressed this duality when a prospective convert asked to be taught “the entire Torah on one foot” (lit. על רגל אחת), and Hillel invoked the mitzvah of ahavat Yisrael (ואהבת לרעך כמוך). On a simple level, this is a Hebrew idiom, comparable to the English “thinking on your feet.” But there is a deeper meaning as well. Every person has two ‘feet’ on which his spiritual persona ‘stands.’ One is his status as a Jew and a member of Knesset Yisrael. The other is his individual spiritual accomplishments and good deeds. Hillel was teaching that love of one’s fellow Jew isenough to stand on – even if you don’t have another leg to stand on because your own spiritual house is not (yet) entirely in order. King David also alluded to this truth in Tehillim (26:12), when he declares “My foot [singular] stood on a straight path; I will bless the Lord in assemblies.”

Granted, one is not supposed to lean on the ‘leg’ of collective merit in perpetuity. In order to walk, two legs are indispensable. Or, as our Sages (Alfa Beita d’Rebbe Akiva) put it, emet yeish lo raglayim – “Truth has legs [plural].” However, joining with the community is not just a source of merit, but also a catalyst for transforming one’s own individual spiritual persona. After all, sin is not just a personal failure, but also a setback and a harm to all of Israel. Inasmuch as the souls of all Jews are bound together, one’s own shortcomings are bound to reverberate and hold the entire nation back from achieving its telos. Conversely, when I perform mitzvot and avoid transgression, I am not only augmenting my own spirituality, but propelling the entire nation forward toward its destiny. An honest and profound commitment to ahavat Yisrael will spur individual religious growth as well.

This dynamic is built into the auspicious period that we are about to enter. On Rosh haShanah – and especially during the evening – our job is to focus on ahavat Yisrael and submerging our identity in the collective. By contrast, the following period of Aseret Yemei Teshuva – and especially Yom Kippur – is a time to take stock of our own failures and spiritual shortcomings. Each of these times contributes to one indispensable and sacred unit. Thus, the worlds of Truth and Peace are bound together inseparably. For G-d’s name is Shalom is his seal is Emet.

[1] In the Hebrew, Rav Kook references a midrash (cited by Rashi on Bereishit 46:26), which notes that Ya’akov’s descendants are described in their descent to Egypt as seventy nefesh, in the singular, while Esav’s family are described with the plural nefashot.

Food for Thought

Rav Ya’akov Beasley: We fail to appreciate the revolutionary significance of the declaration that Hashem created the human being in His image and likeness. In fact, it is quite possibly the single most radical consequence of monotheism. Just as Hashem is singular and alone, man is also singular and alone. With Bereishit’s opening story we witness the birth of the individual in Western civilization. Clearly, the supreme and unique importance of the individual was unknown in the pagan world. Instead, they viewed the significance of the individual solely through the lens of the individual’s relationship to his/her value to society as a whole. A worthwhile point of comparison is between our ethics, as expounded in Tanakh, and those of ancient Greece. In Greece, the highest value was the polis, the group. As such, ethics was a code for singe-minded devotion to the city (Athens, Sparta), and the supreme glory was heroism in the field of battle, or the willingness to die for the city’s sake: dulce et decorum est pro patria mori (“It is pleasant and proper to die for one’s country”). Not surprisingly, the Greeks developed the “custom” of abandoning elderly, feeble parents or handicapped children on mountainsides to perish. They argued that this freed them of the “shame” of being dependent on others for their sustenance. The group takes precedence over the individual. Once a person ceased to benefit society, his life lost its value and was no longer protected by law.

Rav Soloveitchik (On Repentance): A Jew who has lost his faith in Knesset Israel even though he may, in his own litte corner, sanctify and purify himself through severities and restrictions-this Jew remains incorrigible and totally unequipped to partake of the Day of Atonement which encompasses the whole of Knesset Israel in all its parts and in all its generations…. Only a Jew who believes in Knesset Israel will be privileged to partake of the sanctity of the day and of atonement as part of the community of Israel… A Jew who lives as part of Knesset Israel and is ready to lay down his life for it, who is pained by its hurt and is happy at its joy, wages its battles, groans at its failures, and celebrates its victories… A Jew who believes in Knesset Israel is a Jew who binds himself with an indissoluble bond not only to the People of Israel of his generation, but to Knesset Israel through all the generations.”

Rav Yehuda Amital: When Elisha tried to repay the Shunamite woman for her kindness, she said to him: “I dwell among my people” (Melakhim Beit, 4:13). Regarding these words, the Zohar says (Noach 69b): “When the world is being called into account, it is not advisable that a man should have his name mentioned on high, for the mention of his name will be a reminder of his sins, and will cause him to be brought under scrutiny. This we learn from the words of the Shunamite woman. It was Rosh HaShana, when God sits in judgment on the world, that Elisha asked her: “Can I speak to the King on your behalf” (ibid), i.e. to the Holy One, blessed be He, for on that day He is… King of Judgment. She answered: “I dwell among my people” – that is, “I do not wish to be remembered and to have attention drawn to me, save among my own people.” He who keeps himself in the middle of his own people does not draw attention upon himself, and so escapes criticism.

The underlying message is that a person should try to avoid standing out from the community in which he lives. When a Jew stands before God, he recognizes his insignificance, and prefers not to be judged as an individual, but as part of the Jewish people. In his everyday affairs as well, a person should strive to be part of his community, and not allow himself to stand out more than necessary. Making oneself conspicuous testifies to arrogance, for a person who makes himself noticeable demonstrates that he views himself as fit to stand individually and on his own before God as well.

Rav Joseph Soloveitchik (“Community”): The community in Judaism is not a functional-utilitarian, but an ontological one. The community is not just an assembly of people who work together for their mutual benefit, but a metaphysical entity, an individuality: I might say, a living whole. In particular, Judaism has stressed the wholeness and the unity of Knesset Israel, the Jewish community. The latter is not a conglomerate. It is an autonomous entity, endowed with a life of its own.

Rabbi Shmuel Goldin (Unlocking the Torah Text, Vayikra): During his lifetime (1903–1993), the Rav expressed deep concern over the spiritual survival of Diaspora Jewry and the physical safety of the Jewish community in Israel. He maintained, however, that faith in Knesset Yisrael mandates against despair, requiring each Jew to believe in the continued existence of our people until the coming of the Messiah. One can’t help but wonder, however, how much more fearful the Rav would be today, witnessing not only an exacerbation of the crises he noted in his lifetime, but also the growing pressures within the Jewish community upon the very integrity of Knesset Yisrael.

Fragmented for years, we have become a people increasingly divided against ourselves as the fault lines between us, both in Israel and the diaspora, grow into seemingly unbridgeable chasms. Charedi, Zionist, Secular, Conservative, Reform, Orthodox, Settlers, Peace Activists – we continue to retreat into homogeneous groups, seeking the safety of those who share our ideas and our own life outlook. And the groupings grow even narrower… Even within the Orthodox community, for example, do Charedi and Religious Zionist Jews feel kinship with or antipathy towards each other as they pass on the street? Do Modern Orthodox Jews and Satmar Chasidim truly see themselves as part of the same people, with the same dreams?…

I can hear the Rav’s voice whispering in my ear of the importance of Knesset Yisrael. His vision of shared origin and shared destiny is one that we lose, God forbid, at our peril.

Johann Hari (Lost Connections, pg. p. 81-84): When we talk about home today, we mean just our four walls and (if we’re lucky) our nuclear family. But that’s never been what home has meant to any humans before us. To them, it meant a community—a dense web of people all around us, a tribe. But that is largely gone. Our sense of home has shriveled so far and so fast it no longer meets our need for a sense of belonging. So we are homesick even when we are at home… [W]e haven’t just started doing things alone more, in every decade since the 1930s. We have started to believe that doing things alone is the natural state of human beings, and the only way to advance. We have begun to think: I will look after myself, and everybody else should look after themselves, as individuals. Nobody can help you but you. Nobody can help me but me. These ideas now run so deep in our culture that we even offer them as feel-good bromides to people who feel down—as if it will lift them up. But… this is a denial of human history, and a denial of human nature. It leads us to misunderstand our most basic instincts. And this approach to life makes us feel terrible.

Questions for Discussion

  1. Where in Chumash do we find someone walking (or limping) on one leg? How might that episode tie to Rav Kook’s insights?
  2. Why is it important to be a member of a Jewish community?
  3. In what way is the Jewish community different from other religious communities or groups with common values/goals?
  4. How would our religious observance be different if we were conscious of the idea that all Jews share one soul?
  5. What are some dangers of an overemphasis on the individual? Of an overemphasis on the community?
  6. Where during the Yamim Noraim do we highlight the role of the individual? The role of the community?

The World of Divine Ideals – Parshat Ki Tavo

Printable PDF available here. Previous pieces on Ki Tavo are available here and here.

Rav Kook (Ikvei ha’Tzon)

“G–d will confirm you for Himself as a holy people, as He swore to you, if you observe the mitzvot of the Lord your G-d, and you go in His ways (lit. והלכת בדכריו).” (Devarim 28:9)

To the extent that one’s inner conception of G-d matures, his service of G-d will advance as well. The understanding of Divine worship (lit. avodat elokim) as the servitude of a slave (lit. avodat eved) derives from a crude and immature conception of G-d. And thus, if a person’s ethical and intellectual faculties are well developed (in accordance with his nature and the state of his generation), but his conception of G-d is immature, the inevitable result will be a profound inner aversion to the entire notion of Divine service.

The only cure is to raise up one’s inner conception of the Divine Name – ideally by means of an ennobled and comprehensive understanding, but at the very least, in a manner that accords with his soul’s conceptions of greatness and elevation. This is alluded to by our Sages’ teaching (Gemara Berachot 21a) that derives the blessing before Torah study from the verse “When I call out the name of the Lord, attribute greatness to our G-d” (lit. כי שם ה׳ אקרא הבו גודל לאלוקינו) (Devarim 32:3).

It is a commonly believed that Divine service relates to G-d Himself, that it is a means for us to connect to His very essence. But this is a crude faith, even if it is articulated by means of sophisticated metaphysics and philosophy, and it turns man into a terrified slave who quivers in G-d’s presence. The notion that humanity can deal directly with G-d is foreign to Israel. It is a defining trait of non-Jewish belief and readily degrades into paganism.

In place of ‘religion,’ Israel’s mature Divine service is rooted not in superficial subjugation to some abstract, transcendent power, but G-dly ideals. The depth of Torah [that is, Kabbalah] teaches that even the names of G-d signify not G-d’s essence but rather Divine ideals. The ideals, which the Torah refers to as the “ways of G-d” (lit. דרכי ה׳), are mapped by Kabbalah as the world of Atzilut, the Divine attributes and sefirot. Kabbalah charts this vibrant multitude of paths and conduits, through which an infinite G-d channels His interactions with our finite world. We are summoned to exert ourselves to perfect and raise up these ideals, to raise them up and invest them with splendor on the individual, national and cosmic planes. This task broadens and elevates the soul. Indeed, the Torah teems with elevated ideals and contains Divine blueprints for manifesting them.

This constitutes Israel’s unique and enlightened form of Divine service, the service of sons and daughters who sense within themselves an inner affinity to their Divine father, the author and source of all goodness, life and light. Here there is neither dry theology nor the quivering worship of terrified slaves – themselves two sides of the same blighted coin. The Divine ideals fortify and enrich the soul, bring joy and healthy psychic repose, inner confidence, delight and love in their wake.

“Israel will rejoice with its Maker; the children of Zion will exult with their King” (Tehillim 149:2).

Commentary

Kabbalah has a long and complex history as part of Jewish tradition, and not all sources are of one mind regarding the purpose of Kabbalistic knowledge. Some sources present Kabbalah as a gateway to an ecstatic mystical experience, while others idealize meditative contemplation. Various other sources emphasize theurgic and magical dimensions of kabbalah, articulating man’s ability to affect heavenly worlds by his thoughts and actions. Rav Kook charts a revolutionary and entirely different path.[1]According to Rav Kook, Kabbalah charts a precise map of the traits manifested by G-d in His interactions with the world, which we are called upon to emulate. The sefirot, partzufim and other phenomena identified by Kabbalah and its unique vocabulary are really “Divine Ideals” that humanity (and particularly Israel) is meant to manifest. For Rav Kook, this is the deeper meaning of “following in Hashem’s ways.” Kabbalah is the deepest and most profound manifestation of the ethical.

[1] Rav Kook’s approach is explicated by Yosef Avivi in his recently-published and magisterial four-volume work titled קבלת הראי׳ה.

Food for Thought

Shemot (33 and 34): וְעַתָּה אִם נָא מָצָאתִי חֵן בְּעֵינֶיךָ, הוֹדִעֵנִי נָא אֶת דְּרָכֶךָ, וְאֵדָעֲךָ, לְמַעַן אֶמְצָא חֵן בְּעֵינֶיךָ; וּרְאֵה, כִּי עַמְּךָ הַגּוֹי הַזֶּה… וַיֹּאמַר: הַרְאֵנִי נָא, אֶת כְּבֹדֶךָ. וַיֹּאמֶר, אֲנִי אַעֲבִיר כָּל טוּבִי עַל פָּנֶיךָ, וְקָרָאתִי בְשֵׁם יקוק, לְפָנֶיךָ; וְחַנֹּתִי אֶת אֲשֶׁר אָחֹן, וְרִחַמְתִּי אֶת אֲשֶׁר אֲרַחֵם. וַיֹּאמֶר, לֹא תוּכַל לִרְאֹת אֶת פָּנָי: כִּי לֹא יִרְאַנִי הָאָדָם, וָחָי… וַיֵּרֶד יקוק בֶּעָנָן, וַיִּתְיַצֵּב עִמּוֹ שָׁם; וַיִּקְרָא בְשֵׁם, יקוק. וַיַּעֲבֹר יקוק עַל פָּנָיו, וַיִּקְרָא, יקוק יקוק, אֵל רַחוּם וְחַנּוּן אֶרֶךְ אַפַּיִם, וְרַב חֶסֶד וֶאֱמֶת. נֹצֵר חֶסֶד לָאֲלָפִים, נֹשֵׂא עָו‍ֹן וָפֶשַׁע וְחַטָּאָה; וְנַקֵּה, לֹא יְנַקֶּה פֹּקֵד עֲו‍ֹן אָבוֹת עַל בָּנִים וְעַל בְּנֵי בָנִים, עַל שִׁלֵּשִׁים וְעַל רִבֵּעִים. וַיְמַהֵר, מֹשֶׁה; וַיִּקֹּד אַרְצָה, וַיִּשְׁתָּחוּ.

Gemara Rosh haShanah (17b): “And The Lord passed before him and proclaimed” (Exodus 34:6). Rabbi Yochanan said: Were a verse not written, it would be impossible to say it. This teaches that the Holy One, Blessed is He, wrapped Himself like a prayer leader and demonstrated to Moses the order of prayer. He said to him: Any time that Israel sins, let them perform before me this procedure and I shall forgive them.”… Rav Yehudah said: a covenant has been made regarding the Thirteen Attributes that they never return empty, as it is stated, Behold I make a covenant (Exodus 34:10)….

Reishit Hokhmah (Sha’ar Anavah 1): And the matter is difficult because we have seen many times in which we have proclaimed the 13 attributes and [our prayers] are not answered. Rather the Geonim say that the meaning of “let them perform before Me this procedure” is not merely the wrapping of a talit. Rather that they should perform the attributes which the Holy One Blessed be He taught to Moshe: that He is a merciful and compassionate G-d. That is, just as He is compassionate so too you should be compassionate, etc. And likewise for all 13 attributes.

Is There a Jewish Philosophy? (Leon Roth): [I]t is not possible to extrapolate any positive theory of ethics from the notion of imitatio Dei, and second, judging from the import of the biblical texts themselves, no one has ever attempted so to do. And the reason is obvious. The G-d of Israel is a G-d who “hides Himself” (Isaiah 45:15) whose name, according to the Talmud’s perceptive interpretation u of Exodus 3:15 is le’olam: not ‘forever’, but ‘must be hidden’ (le’alem). What is hidden from us we can neither imitate nor emulate…. It is, moreover, quite certain that this was already appreciated in antiquity, for many a scholar has endeavoured to discover, from talmudic literature, the consequences of emulation, or, to use the conventional term, imitation, of G-d. But, as one of them has observed, the rabbis did not call upon people to imitate all the divine characteristics as they are described in the Hebrew Bible: and, from the philosophical point of view, this is the heart of the matter. We find no such summons as ‘just as I am “jealous and vengeful” [cf. Nahum 1:2] so be you likewise jealous and vengeful.’ Here is proof that the essence of the whole concept, even when propounded according to the foregoing formula, is not simply imitation. There is a selectivity of the appropriate characteristics for emulation; and once this is granted, imitation, as such, is not the touchstone.

Gemara Sotah (14a): What is the meaning of that which is written: “After the Lord your G-d shall you walk…” (Deuteronomy 13:5)? But is it actually possible for a person to follow the Divine Presence? But hasn’t it already been stated: “For the Lord your G-d is a devouring fire, a jealous G-d” (Deuteronomy 4:24)? Rather, the meaning is that one should follow the attributes of the Holy One, Blessed be He. Just as He clothes the naked, as it is written: “And the Lord G-d made for Adam and for his wife garments of skin, and clothed them” (Genesis 3:21), so too, should you clothe the naked. Just as He clothes the naked, as it is written: “And the Lord G-d made for Adam and for his wife garments of skin, and clothed them” (Genesis 3:21), so too, should you clothe the naked. Just as the Holy One, Blessed be He, visits the sick, as it is written with regard to G-d’s appearing to Abraham following his circumcision: “And the Lord appeared unto him by the terebinths of Mamre” (Genesis 18:1), so too, should you visit the sick. Just as the Holy One, Blessed be He, consoles mourners, as it is written: “And it came to pass after the death of Abraham, that G-d blessed Isaac his son” (Genesis 25:11), so too, should you console mourners. Just as the Holy One, Blessed be He, buried the dead, as it is written: “And he was buried in the valley in the land of Moab” (Deuteronomy 34:6), so too, should you bury the dead.

Moreh Nevuchim (1:54): When [Moshe] asked for knowledge of the attributes and asked for forgiveness for the nation, he was given a [favorable] answer with regard to their being forgiven. Then he asked for the apprehension of His essence, may He be exalted. This is what he means when he says “Show me, I pray Thee, Thy glory;” whereupon he received a [favorable] answer with regard to what he had asked for at first – namely, “Show me Thy ways.” …It is then clear that the “ways” – for a knowledge of which he had asked and which, in consequence, were made known to him – are the actions proceeding from G-d, may He be exalted. The Sages call them “characteristics” and speak of the “thirteen characteristics.” This term, as they use it, is applied to moral qualities…For the utmost virtue of man is to become like unto Him, may He be exalted, as far as he is able; which means that we should make our actions like unto His, as the Sages made clear when interpreting the verse “You shall be holy.” They said: “He is gracious, so be you also gracious; He is merciful, so be you also merciful.”

Rav Eliyahu Dessler (Michtav M’eliyahu, Vol. V, p. 21): When a person contracts his ego, he walks in the ways of G-d. [How so?] it is known [according to kabbalah] that G-d contracted Himself, as it were, for the sake of creating the world, for the ultimate purpose of revealing Himself here. So too, a person contracts his ego for the sake of revealing G-d’s honor and greatness. This is the [deeper] meaning of the verse: “And cleave to him” (Devarim 13:5) which Rashi explains as: “Cleave to His ways, perform acts of kindness [bury the dead, visit the sick, just as G-d did].”

Questions for Discussion

  1. See the first few sources in “Food for Thought” above. How does the practice of reciting Selichot connect to Rav Kook’s insights on “following G-d’s ways”?
  2. Rav Kook writes that “The notion that humanity can deal directly with G-d… readily degrades into paganism.” Why?
  3. How do we learn/discover what traits of G-d we are supposed to emulate? (See Is There a Jewish Philosophy? in “Food for Thought” above.)
  4. According to Rav Kook, is Kabbalah meant to lead to a withdrawal from the world or to a deeper engagement with it?
  5. What kind of behaviors does the Talmud put under the rubric of “walking after G-d?”
  6. Rav Kook believes that Kabbalah is the key to the deepest fulfillment of “following G-d’s ways.” What are other ways in which this mitzvah could be understood?

Halacha and Aggadah, Poetry and Prose – Parshat Shoftim

Printable PDF available here. Previous years’ pieces on Parshat Shoftim can be found here and here.

Rav Kook (Based on Igrot ha’Reiah 103)

If a matter eludes you in judgment… then you shall rise and go up to the place the Lord, your G-d, chooses. And you shall come to the Levitic kohanim and to the judge who will be in those days, and you shall inquire, and they will tell you the words of judgment. And you shall do according to the word they tell you, from the place the Lord will choose, and you shall observe to do according to all they instruct you. (Devarim 17:8-10)

I believe that it is incumbent on us to create an opening in the partition that separates the disciplines of halacha and Aggadah. Each discipline can benefit from and draw upon the unique wisdom of its counterpart. Aggadah speaks to the wisdom of the heart and the mind, and all of the Torah’s laws regarding beliefs and thought draw upon the domain of Aggadah. By contrast, halacha is the wisdom of practical conduct.

Each of these domains is nourished from a different ‘root’ in the holy Torah. The world of halacha draws on human wisdom and cognition, while Aggadah is rooted in the world of prophecy. Maimonides (Hilchot Yesodei haTorah, Chapter 9) erected an iron wall between these two disciplines, insisting that prophetic insight has absolutely no role to play in the halachic process. However, it is apparent that other Rishonim disagreed and saw nothing wrong with granting some level of halachic credence to prophecy. Indeed, this is the simple meaning of the first mishnah in Pirkei Avot, which records the early chain of transmission of the Oral Torah. That mishnah teaches that the “elders” passed the tradition on to the Prophets (lit. וזקנים לנביאים). It seems implausible to assert – as Maimonides presumably would – that their prophetic powers had no role in their custodianship of the tradition, that they received the tradition in their capacity as Sages and not in their capacity as prophets. Other Talmudic proofs can similarly be marshalled to demonstrate the role of prophecy in halacha.

Because the Land of Israel is the only place where prophecy exists, the prophetic dimension of halacha finds unique expression in the Land. Ordinary halachic discourse is deductive and methodical. Arriving at a conclusion involves a lengthy series of proofs, counterproofs and analogies, as anyone familiar with the Babylonian Talmud can testify. In contrast, prophecy arrives at truth rapidly and by means of an inner intuition. Instead of plodding forward on a dark path with a candle in one’s hands, flashes of lightning illuminate one’s entire surroundings. The structured and logical process of pure halachic reasoning is bypassed and one is led by a higher form of consciousness.

This is why the Talmud Yerushalmi is terse and concise, in contrast to the exhaustive and sprawling style of the Talmud Bavli. Unlike their counterparts in Babylonia, the inner intuition of the Talmudic sages in Eretz Israel enabled them to clarify matters with directness and brevity. Illuminated by a supernal light, their broad gaze could intuit halachic conclusions from the most subtle of hints or allusions. “The very air of the Land of Israel makes one wise” (Gemara Bava Basra, 158b).

The different spiritual paths of the Talmud Bavli and Talmud Yerushalmi may illustrate a dispute regarding the zaken mamre, the rebellious elder who brazenly disregards the ruling of the Sanhedrin. The Torah writes that the disputed ruling relates to a ‘matter’ (lit. דבר). While the Talmud Bavli interprets this as a reference to Halacha, the Talmud Yerushalmi understands it as a reference to Aggadah.

Apparently, the Sages of Israel maintained that even aggadic matters – issues of belief and faith – were subject to definitive adjudication by the nation’s highest court, while the Sages of Babylonia disagreed. The basis of this dispute is readily apparent. In the Land of Israel, the style of Torah study was permeated with prophecy and transcendent spiritual wisdom. And so even aggadic matters could be clarified with decisive finality. The Sages of Babylonia did not believe that this was possible. For them, human reason was the primary means of determining halachic truth. Granted, the human intellect is powerful enough to be Divinely entrusted with binding authority in matters of halacha. But it will always fall short of absolute certainty in the matters of belief and faith that compromise the world of Aggadah.

Food for Thought

Chovot haLevavot (Introduction): Scripture says “if there arise a matter too hard for you in judgment, between blood and blood, between plea and plea, between affliction and affliction…and you shall do according to the sentence which they declare to you” (Deut. 17:8-10). If you examine what subjects are included in the first verse, you will find they are things which need to be detailed, distinguished, and discussed by the method of Tradition, and not by that of logical demonstration from Reason alone. You can see, the verse does not include matters which can be attained through Reason. For he did not say, for example, “when you have a question on the Unity of G-d”; or regarding the Names and attributes of the Creator, or as to any of the roots of the religion, such as the service of G-d, trusting in Him, submission before Him, devoting activities to Him, purifying conduct from the damage of detrimental things, repentance from sins, fear and love of Him, being abashed before Him, making a spiritual accounting, and similar duties which can be fulfilled through reason and recognition. He did not say to accept them on the authority of the Torah Sages and to rely only on the Tradition. On the contrary, Scripture says in regard to these to reflect on them to your heart and to apply your intellect on them after having first accepted them from the Tradition, which covers all the commandments of the Torah, their roots and branches. You should investigate them with your intellect, understanding, and judgment, until you will sift the truth of it from the false [notions], as written “therefore, know this day and consider it within your heart, that the Lord, He is G-d” (Deut. 4:39).

More Regarding the Talmud Yerushalmi (from Simcha Friedman, Emunat Hakhamim, Tradition 27:4): Rashi (on the above passage in the Babylonian Talmud) states: davar refers to the halakhot given to Moses at Sinai.” The commentators to the Jerusalem Talmud – the authors of Korban ha-Edah and Penei Moshe (in his Mar’eh ha-Panim) – follow suit. The latter echoes Rashi in explaining the term aggadah used in the Jerusalem Talmud in its non-literal meaning: “It may be that “aggadah”… is that which was told (mah shehugad) orally, hearkening back to the halakhah given to Moses at Sinai.”

Rabbi Chaim Eisnen (Maharal’s Be’er ha-Golah and His Revolution in Aggadic Scholarship): In the halakhic domain of talmudic literature, a staggering wealth of systematic analyses and codifications emerged during the medieval period of the rishonim (early rabbinical commentators). These classics remain the foundation of all serious talmudic erudition. Astoundingly, there was little simultaneous, parallel development in the realm of Aggadah. With some notable exceptions, this vast corpus eluded comprehensive treatment until the early period of the aḥaronim (later rabbinical commentators)…

Ramban (as quoted and discussed by Rabbi Marc Angel): The demand that one must believe all the words of our sages in the aggadah came into question in the famous disputation in Barcelona in 1263. Rabbi Mosheh ben Nahman, the Ramban, was challenged by his Christian opponent with an aggadah that stated that the Messiah was born on the day that the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed. The Ramban responded: “I do not believe in this aggadah at all…” He went on to explain that Jewish religious writings are divided into three traditional categories: Bible, Talmud and Midrash. “The first we believe entirely…; the second we believe when it explains laws. We have yet a third book which is called Midrash, sermons so to speak…; and this book, if one wishes to believe it he may, and one who does not believe it does not have to… We call it a book of aggadah, which is to say discourses, that is to say that it merely consists of stories which people tell one another. “

This explanation of the Ramban was rejected by those who insisted on maintaining the truth of all the words of our sages. Some argued that the Ramban never meant what he said, that he only said it to deflect the challenge of his opponent. The Sedei Hemed wrote that it is forbidden even to think that the Ramban meant what he said. Writing over two centuries after the disputation, Rabbi Yitzhak Abravanel strongly disavowed the statement of the Ramban because “it opens the gates to undermine all rabbinic authority when we consider any of their words as errors or foolishness.

Questions for Discussion

  1. Could there be an alternative explanation for why the Talmud Yerushalmi is much shorter and terser than the Talmud Bavli?
  2. What are some differences between contemporary religious life/Torah learning in Israel vs. in the Diaspora?
  3. Why is it important to learn aggadah?
  4. What do you think Rav Kook means by creating “an opening in the partition that separates the disciplines of halacha and Aggadah”?
  5. In the absence of a Sanhedrin, how do we determine what positions in matters of belief and faith are beyond the pale?

There You Shall Seek – Parshat Re’eh

Note – The past week has been a hectic one, as I am following in Rav Kooks’ footsteps and making aliyah in mid-August. All of the packing and planning left little time this week for preparing a d’var Torah from Rav Kook. As a result, this week’s piece is excerpted from Rabbi Chanan Morrison’s excellent work “Sapphire from the Land of Israel”

Rav Kook (Adapted from Shemu’ot HaRe’iyah (Beha’alotecha)

Surprisingly, the Torah never spells out exactly where the Temple is to be built. Rather we are instructed to build the Beit HaMikdash “in the place that God will choose. “Only to the place that the Eternal your God will choose from all your tribes to set His Name — there you shall seek His dwelling place, and go there.” (Deut. 12:5). Where is this place “that God will choose”? What does it mean that we should “seek out His dwelling place”?

The Sages explained that the Torah is commanding us, under the guidance of a prophet, to discover where the Beit HaMikdash should be built. King David undertook the search for this holy site with the help of the prophet Samuel.

Why didn’t the Torah explicitly state the location where to build the Temple? Moses certainly knew that the Akeidah took place on Mount Moriah in Jerusalem, and he knew that Abraham had prophesied that this would be the site of the Beit HaMikdash. 1

Maimonides (Guide to the Perplexed III: 45) suggested that Moses wisely chose not to mention Jerusalem explicitly. Had he done so, the non-Jewish nations would have realized Jerusalem’s paramount importance to the Jewish people and would have fought fiercely to prevent it from falling into Israel’s hands.

Even worse, knowledge of Jerusalem’s significance could have led to infighting among the tribes. Each tribe would want the Beit HaMikdash to be located in its territory. The result could have been an ugly conflict, similar to Korach’s rebellion against Aaron’s appointment to the position of High Priest. Maimonides reasoned that this is why the Torah commands that a king be appointed before building the Beit HaMikdash. This way the Temple’s location would be determined by a strong central government, thus avoiding inter-tribal conflict and rivalry.

In any case, David did not know where the Beit HaMikdash was to be built. According to the Talmud (Zevachim 54b), his initial choice fell on Ein Eitam, a spring located to the south of Jerusalem. Ein Eitam appeared to be an obvious choice since it is the highest point in the entire region. This corresponds to the Torah’s description that “You shall rise and ascend to the place that the Eternal your God will choose” (Deut.17:8). However, David subsequently considered a second verse that alludes to the Temple’s location. At the end of his life, Moses described the place of God’s Divine Presence as “dwelling between his shoulders” (Deut. 33:12). What does this mean?

This allegory suggests that the Temple’s location was not meant to be at the highest point, but a little below it, just as the shoulders are below the head. Accordingly, David decided that Jerusalem, located at a lower altitude than Ein Eitam, was the site where the Beit HaMikdash was meant to be built.

Doeg, head of the High Court, disagreed with David. He supported the original choice of Ein Eitam as the place to build the Temple. The Sages noted that Doeg’s jealousy of David was due to the latter’s success in discovering the Temple’s true location.

The story of David’s search for the site of the Beit HaMikdash is alluded to in one of David’s “Songs of Ascent.” Psalm 132 opens with a plea: “Remember David for all his trouble” (Ps. 132:1). What was this trying labor that David felt was a special merit, a significant life achievement for which he wanted to be remembered?

The psalm continues by recounting David’s relentless efforts to locate the place of the Temple. David vowed: “I will not enter the tent of my house, nor will I go up to the bed that was spread for me. I will not give sleep to my eyes, nor rest to my eyelids — until I find God’s place, the dwellings of the Mighty One of Jacob.” (Ps. 132: 3-5)

What was the crux of the dispute between David and Doeg? Doeg reasoned that the most suitable site for the Temple is the highest point in Jerusalem, reflecting his belief that the spiritual greatness of the Temple should only be accessible to the select few, those who are able to truly grasp the purest levels of enlightenment — the kohanim and the spiritual elite.

David, on the other hand, understood that the Temple and its holiness need to be the inheritance of the entire people of Israel. The kohanim are not privy to special knowledge; they are merely agents who influence and uplift the people with the Temple’s holiness. The entire nation of Israel is described as a “kingdom of priests” (Ex. 19:6).

Even though Ein Eitam was never sanctified, it still retained a special connection to the Beit HaMikdash, as its springs supplied water for the Beit HaMikdash. The Talmud relates that on Yom Kippur, the High Priest would immerse himself in a mikveh on the roof of the Beit HaParvah chamber in the Temple complex. In order for the water to reach this roof, which was 23 cubits higher than the ground floor of the Temple courtyard, water was diverted from the Ein Eitam springs, which were also located at this altitude.

Rav Kook explained that there exists a special connection between Ein Eitam and the High Priest’s purification on Yom Kippur. While the Beit HaMikdash itself needs to be accessible to all, the purification of the High Priest must emanate from the highest possible source. Yom Kippur’s unique purity and power of atonement originate in the loftiest realms, corresponding to the elevated springs of Ein Eitam.

Fear of Heaven – Parshat Eikev

Printable PDF available here. Previous pieces on Parshat Eikev are available here and here.

Rav Kook (Based on Musar Avicha, 1:3)

“And now, O Israel, what does the Lord your G-d demand of you? Only this – to fear the Lord your G-d, to walk only in His paths, to love Him, and to serve the Lord your G-d with all your heart and soul.” (Devarim 10:12)

Torah literature contains two terms – fear of sin (lit. יראת חטא) and fear of heaven (lit. יראת שמים) – that are often used interchangeably. But do they actually mean the same thing, or are they meant to capture different aspects of religious life? And more importantly, what exactly is the content of this “fear” that our tradition holds up as a primary religious value?

To answer this question, we must realize that the acts of the holy and chosen nation of Israel resonate in the highest levels of reality. The deeper wisdom of the Torah teaches that our deeds have the power to build up the spiritual architecture of the universe or tear it down. The laws of the Torah are not simply pronouncements that we must obey by virtue of Divine fiat. Rather, they are part of the warp and woof of reality.

It follows that every time we act in accordance with the Torah and its G-dly truth, we bind ourselves to a Divine repository of life and goodness. When our will aligns with the Divine will, we experience a sense of completeness and discover ourselves fitting to bask in G-d’s supernal and all-encompassing light. This illumination is neither a ‘prize’ nor a reward dangled in front of us as a motivation to follow G-d’s laws. It is simply the result of living in in a state of completion and in harmony with the ultimate reality.

Conversely, violating the dictates of the Torah results in estrangement from this ultimate goodness. Instead of living in alignment with the highest Divine wisdom, one’s soul becomes permeated with a corrupted and discordant state of being. Deep down, all of reality strives to rise to its supernal source, but he is running in the opposite direction. His soul is damaged and pained, much like a car’s engine becomes devastated when the car is moving forward and the driver abruptly switches gears to ‘Reverse.’

In reality, a person actually experiences two different sensations as a result of defying G-d’s will. He feels the damage he has done to his soul. But just as acutely, he feels the pain of knowing that he is unfit to partake of G-d’s light and splendor.

This is the meaning of the two terms whose meaning we set out to analyze – fear of sin (lit. יראת חטא) and fear of heaven (lit. יראת שמים). Fear of sin is the fear of harming one’s soul, of rendering it deficient and incomplete. Fear of heaven refers to the trepidation regarding the pain and shame of distancing oneself from the Divine light.

Signs of Life – Parshat Va’etchanan

Rav Kook (Shemonah Kevatzim 8:259)

You saw with your own eyes what the Lord did in the matter of Baal-peor, that the Lord your G-d destroyed from your midst every person who followed Baal-peor; while you, who held fast to the Lord your G-d, are all alive today.

As we have not yet attained the supernal rectification that is the unity of all of life’s different currents and all of their different propensities, a world of chaos (lit. עולם תוהו) stands in front of us. As long as a single perspective, value, or approach rears its head and declares “I will rule and there are none beside me,” there can be no inner peace and G-d’s name cannot be proclaimed upon us. For “Shalom” [which means completeness] is itself a Divine name (Gemara Shabbat 10b), and the light of Truth can only come from and through such Name.

Each of us inhabits a particular stream of values and thoughts whose truth resonates with us – but each of our streams nourishes an infinite ocean of a greater, all-encompassing Truth, a Truth that emerges from the totality of all ideas, inclinations, and potentialities. Instead of pushing away that which seems foreign or does not resonate with us, we must strive to integrate it within the ocean of the Ein Sof, within which everything is unified, everything is elevated and uplifted, everything is sanctified.

A true servant of G-d will never be contented with his limited portion of truth. His holy yearning for a harmonistic, all-encompassing Truth brings him pangs of spiritual pain, but he bears this pain with love. These afflictions refine his soul and bring him – and through him, the entire world – to holy inspiration (lit. רוח הקודש), revelation of the supernal Shechina, and true communion with G-d, in the light of He whose Life is the source of all life (lit. חיי כל החיים).

“You, who held fast to the Lord your G-d, are all alive today” (ואתם הדבקים בד’ אלהיכם חיים כולכם היום). [I.e. every part of you lives, pulses with vitality, and contributes its particular life force to the greater Divine Truth.]