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Avraham and Aaron Joining Hands – Parshat Chayei Sarah

Printable PDF available here. Previous pieces on Chayei Sarah are available here and here.

Rav Kook (Based on Orot haKodesh, Vol. 3, Pg. 337)

And Avraham was old, advanced in days, and G-d had blessed Avraham with everything (lit. בכל). (Bereishit 24:1)

Our tradition identifies both Avraham and Aaron as paragons of chesed, but it is clear that they represent chesed of fundamentally different types. Avraham’s chesed poured forth upon all members of humanity –  not only for those who shared his spiritual commitments, but even for his wayward nephew Lot, for the sinful inhabitants of Sodom, even for wandering strangers in the desert. By contrast, our Sages teach that Aaron’s chesed was concentrated on the Jewish people, on making peace between estranged friends and spouses.

To express the trait of chesed in the truest sense, in a manner consistent with the ultimate aspirations of the Torah, the splendorous lights of both Avraham and Aaron must be joined and illumine as one. Our Torah declares in the same breath that “Man is beloved for he was created in G-d’s image… and beloved is Israel for the precious treasure [of the Torah] was given to them.” (Pirkei Avot 3:14)

When we live with this reality, an incredible thing happens. The worlds of Avraham’s chesed and Aaron’s chesed enhance each other, creating a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts. The universal, undifferentiated chesed of Avraham is uplifted and enhanced through the focused, qualitative greatness of Aaron’s chesed. Indeed, our Sages teach (GemaraNedarim 32b) that in the wake of Avraham’s encounter with Malchizedek, who was the incumbent “Kohen of the Lord” (Bereishit 14:18), G-d resolved to transfer the priesthood to Avraham and his descendants.[1] The universal aspirations of Avraham and the inward-focus of Aaron are meant to merge together, to build a complete spiritual edifice that integrates awe of Divine majesty and peace together. “At that time, they will call Jerusalem ‘Throne of G-d,’ and all nations shall gather to it in the name of G-d, to Jerusalem…

[1] In the Hebrew, Rav Kook alludes to a gemara (Nedarim 32b) about why the priesthood was removed from Malchizedek: The Holy One, Blessed be He, wanted the priesthood to emerge from Shem, so that his children would be priests, as it is stated: “And Malchizedek king of Salem brought forth bread and wine; and he was priest of God the Most High” (Genesis 14:18). But once Malchizedek, traditionally identified as Shem, put the blessing of Abraham before the blessing of G-d, He had the priesthood emerge from Abraham in particular, and not from any other descendant of Shem. As it is stated: “And he blessed him and said: Blessed be Abram of God Most High, Maker of heaven and earth, and blessed be God the Most High” (Genesis 14:19–20). Abraham said to him: Does one place the blessing of the servant before the blessing of his master? You should have blessed God first. Immediately the Holy One, Blessed be He, gave the priesthood to Abraham, as it is stated: “The Lord says to my lord: Sit at My right hand, until I make your enemies your footstool” (Psalms 110:1), and afterward it is written: “The Lord has sworn, and will not repent: you shall be a priest forever, because you are a king of righteousness (lit. על דברתי מלכי צדק)” (Psalms 110:4), which is explained homiletically to mean: Due to the improper words [divrati] of Malchizedek, the offspring of Abraham shall be priests of God forever. And this is as it is written: “And he [emphasis added] was priest of God the Most High,” i.e. he was a priest, but his children will not be priests.

Food for Thought

Rav Aharon Lichtenstein (To Cultivate and to Guard: The Universal Duties of Mankind”): A berit (covenant) is something special and unique; by definition, it delineates a particular relationship between God and a specific community. What then happens to more universal elements? Do these fall away because of the exclusivity of the new relationship? Or do we regard the new relationship as being superimposed upon the old, but not at odds with it?

Even according to the latter approach, at times there may be a conflict between a universal value and a specific one. Fundamentally, however, this approach regards the specific covenant as complementing and building on top of the universal covenant, rather than replacing it and rendering it obsolete. According to this approach, we do not believe that what existed until now was merely scaffolding which was needed until the building was complete, but now that the building is finished, everything else is insignificant. Instead, we assume that whatever commitments, demands and obligations devolve upon a person simply as a member of the universal community, will also apply to him within his unique context as well; but in addition, there are also new demands.

Rav Shimson Raphael Hirsch (cited in Horeb, pg. 270): It is, therefore, the Jewish task, as symbolized by the Sanctuary, to lift up the human element in man on to the plane of the Divine law; but the Jewish task and the Jewish consciousness are not something which should be separated from the human task and from human consciousness. The Jewish task must not be conceived as something alien to and divorced from the human task. Never must we think that the Jewish element in us could exist without the human element or vice versa. The Jewish element in us presupposes the human element; it builds on it, ennobles it and brings it to perfection. The Jew cannot fulfill his calling in isolation, but only within human society. The highest perfection of the Jew is nothing but the highest perfection of his task as a human being…Pure Judaism always returns to pure humanism.

David Berger (Jews, Gentiles, and the Modern Egalitarian Ethos): There is, however, a different strain in the tradition. It is very well known that Judah Halevi ascribed a special divine element to the Jewish people accounting most notably for the restriction of prophecy to Jews. This element was latent even in Terah, though it abandoned the Jews, at least in its manifest form, during the exile. Converts purify their soul through the pursuit of Jewish practices, but in the first generation they remain excluded from prophecy. A perusal of this skeletal and perhaps tendentious summary makes it clear, I think, that even Halevi speaks of a distinction that does not cut to the very core. The divine element can somehow be attained within two generations through spiritual effort, and it can be submerged during conditions of adversity. Halevi’s converts are not excluded from the drawbacks of the gentile soul because they stood at Sinai; at the same time, the purification resulting from observance of the Torah does not appear to be directed to the uprooting of a deep seated, metaphysical filth.

Maharal provides a somewhat stronger contrast. Jews, including converts, possess a soul that is more separated from the body than that of gentiles and hence less susceptible to its influence. In addition, it is better prepared for spirituality, so that Jews are more resistant to passions and more receptive to Torah. These and other differences affirmed by Maharal are surely profound, but even they do not amount to the existential chasm that appears in some kabbalistic texts and reaches a crescendo in certain forms of hasidic thought, most notably the Tanya. All people, we are told, have a soul formed from the husks (qelippah), but the Jewish soul is from qelippat nogah, which contains good. The gentile soul, on the other hand, is from the other three qelippot, “which contain no good at all” (she-ein bahem tov kelal). In addition, Jews have a divine soul (nefesh elokit), “a part of God above,” which is entirely absent in gentiles. While “no good” may well mean only “no accessible good,” we find here a stark contrast on the deepest existential level.

I see no honest way to mitigate the force of this position significantly, but someone more conversant with hasidic thought may. An unqualified affirmation that there is no good in gentiles flies in the face of a mountain of contrary evidence: the creation of all human beings in the image of God, the ability of gentiles to become gerei toshav, their capacity to become hasidei ummot ha-olam and attain a portion in the world to come, their potential, even if only metaphorically, to be like high priests. Whatever the approach of the Ba’al ha-Tanya may have been to these texts, we are in any event not dealing with binding doctrine. A believing Jew is free to reject the positions of Halevi, of the Maharal and of the Baal ha-Tanya on this matter and embrace the position that whatever advantages the chosenness of Israel confers, they do not extend to a radical difference in the essential makeup of the Jewish soul.

Micha 7:20: תִּתֵּ֚ן אֱמֶת֙ לְיַֽעֲקֹ֔ב חֶ֖סֶד לְאַבְרָהָ֑ם אֲשֶׁר־נִשְׁבַּ֥עְתָּ לַֽאֲבֹתֵ֖ינוּ מִ֥ימֵי קֶֽדֶם.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (Covenant and Conversation, Noach 5778): After the Flood, He taught Noach and through him all humanity, that we should think, not of ourselves but of the human other as in the image of God. That is the only way to save ourselves from violence and self-destruction. This really is a life-changing idea. It means that the greatest religious challenge is: Can I see God’s image in one who is not in my image – whose colour, class, culture or creed is different from mine? People fear people not like them. That has been a source of violence for as long as there has been human life on earth. The stranger, the foreigner, the outsider, is almost always seen as a threat. But what if the opposite is the case? What if the people not like us enlarge rather than endanger our world?… This is the insight expressed in the famous rabbinic statement: “When a human being makes many coins in the same mint, they all come out the same. God makes us all in the same mint, the same image, His image, and we all come out different.” This is the basis of what I call – it was the title of one of my books – the dignity of difference.

This is a life-changing idea. Next time we meet someone radically unlike us, we should try seeing difference not as a threat but as an enlarging, possibility-creating gift. After the Flood, and to avoid a world “filled with violence” that led to the Flood in the first place, God asks us to see His image in one who is not in my image. Adam knew that he was in the image of God. Noach and his descendants are commanded to remember that the other person is in the image of God.

Rav Kook (Midot ha’Reiah, Ahavah 2): Love for all of G-d’s creations must be established first in one’s heart, after that love for all of humanity, and only after that love of Israel (lit. אהבת ישראל) within which the other loves are subsumed. [For insasmuch as Israel’s destiny is to rectify all of existence, love of Israel is inseparable from love of humanity.]

Questions for Discussion

  1. Where in Chumash does Avraham show an inclination to chesed? Where does he act seemingly without chesed?
  2. What does it mean to be created in the image of G-d?
  3. What is more important – qualitative excellence (Aaron) or quantitative excellence (Avraham)?
  4. Why and how is racism antithetical to Torah values?
  5. What are the dangers of too much universalism? Of too much particularism?
  6. See the excerpt from R. Samson Raphael Hirsch above in “Food for Thought.” Is he saying the same thing as R. Kook?
  7. Rav Kook says that the qualitative excellence of Aaron-chesed enhances the quantitative excellence of Avraham-chesed. What do you think this means? (See Midot ha’Reiah in “Food for Thought” above for a possible answer.)

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The Cave of Potential – Parshat Chayei Sarah

Maarat-Hamachpela.jpg

Printable PDF available here.

Rav Kook (Shemuot Re’iah, 5690)

The idea of kiddushin is central to the Torah’s concept of family life. One of the primary sources of kiddushin is derived from Avraham’s acquisition of ma’arat ha’Machpelah, based on a linkage between key words in each context (lit. gezeirah shavah). Our Sages (Gemara Kiddushin, 2a) teach that just as Avraham was able to acquire ma’arat ha’Machpelah by giving Ephron something of monetary value, so too one can take a woman to be his wife by giving her something of monetary value.

This linkage is intriguing, if not outright bizarre. What does Avraham’s acquisition of a burial plot in Eretz Yisrael have to do with kiddushin? What could possibly be the common thread that unites these two contexts?

The first step to resolving this puzzle is the fact that kiddushin does not generate a full marital relationship.[1]The woman becomes prohibited to all other men, but until the later stage of nisuin,[2]they are not allowed to live with each other, the man is not yet fully responsible to financially support the woman, and the two are not considered fully married for a variety of other halachic categories. Broadly speaking, kiddushin represents the idea of potential sanctity, of designation and preparation for the future fullness of married life.

The same dynamic, the same division between potential and actualization, is not limited to marriage. It governs another profound relationship – namely, the connection between the Jewish People and Eretz Yisrael. Several generations after Avraham, his descendants would enter the land under Yehoshua’s leadership and embark on a military conquest to wrest possession from the Canaanite nations. This was the conquest ‘in actuality,’ but it could not have succeeded without the spiritual groundwork laid by the Avotand Imahot. They were the first conquerors of the land – ‘in potential.’

All of Eretz Yisrael had to be imbued with the capacity for kedushah, but this type of sanctity was rooted primarily in Chevron.[3]In contrast, the manifestation of kedushah was focused in Yerushalayim. For this reason, we find that when G-d commanded Avraham, “Arise, walk through the land, its length and breadth” (Bereishit 13:17), he immediately settled in Chevron. Similarly, King David began his rulership in Chevron, and only later moved to Yerushalayim. And, as our Sages teach (Gemara Yoma, 28b), when the sacrificial service began on Yom Kippur morning, the Kohanim did not ask “Has daylight broken?” but rather “Has the sun arrived at Chevron?”

All of this highlights that Chevron is where Am Yisrael, the descendants of the Avot and Imahot, grounds itself and nurtures its potential for kedushah and its connection to the Holy Land. It cannot be any other way. Israel cannot simply march into Yerushalayim, build a Temple and ‘flip a switch’ to bring the Shechinah’s revelation.[4]That process must be grounded in our spiritual potential and historical destiny, all of which were established by those great souls whose bodies are buried in the ma’arat ha’Machpelah.

Based on this analysis, we can also explain why Sarah was the first to be buried in ma’arat ha’Machpelah. Avraham’s burial of Sarah was not just a personal tragedy, but also the foundation of Israel’s future inheritance and the first step in the sanctification of the land. Sarah’s unique sensitivity to kedushah spurred her demand that Avraham expel Yishmael, so that the “nation which dwells alone” could develop from Yitzchak. Without Yitzchak being separated from Yishmael, Eretz Yisrael could not have been separated from the rest of the world. Thus, it is Sarah who we have to thank for guaranteeing to Am Yisrael our special heritage of Eretz Yisrael.

[1]In modern times, kiddushin and nisuin are performed on the same day, at the wedding ceremony, but in Talmudic times, they were separated by a significant period of time, up to twelve months (Gemara Ketubot 48b).

[2]There are a number of different opinions on what constitutes nisuin. For example, the Ran cites a view that describes nisu’in as the bride entering the husband’s ‘domain’ for the purposes of marriage (which is the source of the contemporary ‘yichud room’ after the chupah ceremony). Other Rishonim maintain that the bride going out with her special head covering marks the beginning of nisu’in. And others claim that nisuin is when the chuppah covering is spread over the bride.

[3]Rav Kook uses this to explain the deeper meaning of why Chevon is described (Bamidbar 13:22) as being built “seven years before Zoan of Egypt.” Due to the esoteric nature of his comments and limited space for translating them to English, they are reproduced below in the Hebrew original:

ואמרו בזוהר ״צען״ לשון רברבתא (מקום שרים). אם כי המלוכה היתה במצרים, אבל מקום רברבתא היה בצען.(צוען דמרבי ביה מלכי, כלומר מחנכים ומאמנים בני המלכים, דכתיב ׳כי היו בצוען שריה.) גם דרגת חברון הוא מול צען… ולכן נקראת מצרים ״מרכבת המשנה״, כי שני המקומות ״צען ומצרים״ הם היפך הקדושה של חברון וירושלים. והיו צריכים לטהר את מצרים ע״י גלותו של יוסף, הנקרא צדיק יסוד עולם. ואמר אח״כ ״שמני אלהים לאדון לכל מצרים״ כדי להכניע אותה הטומאה.

[4]Rav Kook notes, based on the Gemara in Bava Batra (117a), that the concept of future sanctity found expression in the unusual system that Yehoshua used to divide up Eretz Yisrael. According to one opinion in the gemara, the land was deemed apportioned to the Israelites who left Egypt — even though they had died in the midbar and never made it to Eretz Yisrael. Usually, it is the living who inherit the dead — i.e., the number of living descendants determines how an inheritance is divided. But here, it was the other way around: the dead determined how the living would inherit land. In other words, we take Eretz Yisrael not by virtue of our own personhood or entitlement, but by being connected to those who came before us.

Food for Thought

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Commentary on the Torah, Bereishit 23:19): The first possession which the Jewish race received of their land was a row of pairs of graves which the first Jew bought to be used for his wife and then for himself and for his son and his grandson and their respective wives. The thought of the value of the family tie which attaches the heart of husband to wife, and children to parents was henceforth inseparably connected with the Jewish land, formed henceforth the fundamental trait of the character of the Jews, and enabled them to become what they became. Perhaps the name Chevron which henceforth was added to the place also came from this. For Chevronmeans: the intimate union, the most appropriate name for the close intimacy which makes Jewish men and women grow together in unison as husband and wife, as father and mother. Centuries later, when their descendants had flourished into a great nation, no daily offering was allowed to rise from the height of Moriah in Jerusalem before the priestly herald at the turret of the Temple could see the rays of morning shining on the graves of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs at Chevron – kibud av v’em is for Jews the preliminary condition for, and the root of kavod ha’Makom.

Ramban (Bereishit 23:19):Avraham’s purchase of ma’arat ha’Machpelah teaches us the many acts of kindness that G-d did for Avraham. For ha became “a prince of G-d: in the land, even though he had come only to sojourn and he was a lone individual. Also, everyone called him “my lord,” even though he never referred to himself this way or told them that he was a prince or important person. This was a fulfilment of G-d’s promise “I will make your name great and you shall be a blessing…” Also, the Torah wanted to tell us of the place of our saintly ancestors’ burial, inasmuch as we are obliged to honor that place. However, our Rabbis say that this episode [was not a Divine kindness but rather] was one of Avraham’s tests, that he sought a place in which to bury Sarah, and [even though G-d had promised him the Land] he couldn’t find one until he purchased it. I don’t understand the explanation of Ibn Ezra, who says that this section tells us of the eminence of Israel for the living and dead, and also shows the fulfilment of G-d’s promise that Avraham would inherit the land. For what eminence do we see here? Where else was Avraham supposed to bury Sarah if not in Eretz Yisrael? He wasn’t going to take her body to another country to bury her! And G-d’s promise was about the whole of Eretz Yisrael, not just a single burial cave and its field. It is clear that the promise of the Land was only fulfilled in the future, for Avraham’s offspring.

Rav Soloveitchik (Out of the Whirlwind, pg. 32): However, Sarah was not only Abrahams mate, but his comrade as well. collaborator and co-participant in all the great plans, hopes and visions. Together they discovered G-d; together they discovered a new morality; together they joined the covenant. In a word, Sarah and Abraham started the mesorah, the tradition. Not only Abraham taught the people, but Sarah as well: Abraham would convert the men and Sarah the women (Bereishis Rabbah 39:14). Now the mother is dead and the mesorah has a father but no mother. The mesorah is incomplete… Abraham’s historical mission could not have been implemented without Sarah’s participation. Both appeared together in Jewish history. Upon Sarah’s death, Abraham lost this mission. Just as Sarah’s tent was passed to Rebecca, the House of Abraham was given to Isaac. Abraham mourned over Sarah, but also over the fact that he had to withdraw from the pesach ha’ohel, the front of the tent, into the shadows.

Questions for Discussion

  1. Are there any areas of your life where you have untapped potential? What is one small step you can take to actualize that potential?
  2. What are other possible connections between the establishment of a Jewish home (i.e. kiddushin) and the purchase of ma’arat ha’Machpelah? Are there other properties that the two have in common? Or perhaps one is meant to bring out a deeper understanding of the other?
  3. Read Rav Hirsch’s comments above in “Food for Thought.” How does his explanation differ from Rav Kook’s and how is it similar?
  4. What happens when a person tries to accomplish something ‘in actuality’ without laying the groundwork ‘in potential’?
  5. Rav Kook states that our connection to Israel has to be rooted in spiritual foundations laid by our Avot and Imahot. What do you think that says about the feasibility of secular Zionism?
  6. Kiddushin is related to the work kodesh/kedushah. How does the Torah’s idea of marriage create kedushah?

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Room to Grow – Parshat Chayei Sarah

Translation: Ein Ayah (Berachot 26b)

יצחק תקן תפלת מנחה שנאמר ויצא יצחק לשוח בשדה לפנות ערב ואין שיחה אלא תפלה שנאמר תפלה לעני כי יעטף ולפני ה׳ ישפך שיחו.

Yitzchak instituted the Mincha prayer, as it is stated: “And Yitzchak went out to converse [lit. לשוח] in the field toward evening” (Bereishit 24:63), and שיחה means prayer, as it is stated: “A prayer of the afflicted when he is faint and pours out his words [lit. שיחו] before God” (Tehillim 102:1).[1]

This statement of our Sages raises three questions that we must address:

  • What is the significance of the term שיחה?
  • Why is it particularly associated with the prayer of minchah?
  • And why is it specifically associated with Yitzchak, as opposed to the other Avot?

The answer lies in an interesting feature of the Hebrew language – the same term that our Sages apply to Yitzchak’s prayer (שיחה) is also used for grass and other forms of plant life.[2] This points to an inner connection between the plant world and the world of prayer.

Prayer can allow the soul to flower[3] and rejuvenate, bringing forth buds of new spiritual capacities. This mode is most suited to the late afternoon period, when a person is able to cast off the worldly and temporal burdens of the workday.[4] [5] At that point, his soul ascends towards God in accordance with its innate yearning for the Divine. Latent feelings of holiness were fettered during the workday, but now find free expression in a desire to cling to the Living God and strive mightily in pure love and reverence of Him. These buds will ripen into fruits and give forth branches and flowers.[6]

This blossoming of spiritual potential through prayer is a natural expression of the soul’s innate uprightness. It isn’t foreign to the soul or imposed from without. In this regard, the שיחה–prayer it is rooted in the Divine attribute of strict justice (lit. מדת הדין), which exacts consequences anytime someone deviates from the natural order. From the perspective of the מדת הדין, punishment is not vindictive or even retributive. It is simply a natural consequence that grows out of the poisoned soil of sin – woven, as it were, into the very nature of the soul.

And we know that Yitzchak is associated [7] with מדת הדין. For this reason, the שיחה mode of prayer is particularly associated with (i) Yitzchak, as opposed to Avraham or Ya’akov, and (ii) the Minchah prayer, which is an opportunity for the natural yearning of the soul to blossom.

[1]    The gemara brings other verses to demonstrate that Avraham established the Shacharit prayer and that Ya’akov established Ma’ariv.

[2]    See Bereishit 2:5 (כל שיח השדה טרם יהיה בארץ) and Bereishit 21:15 (ותשלך את הילד תחת אחד השיחם). It is fascinating to note that each of these sources is connected with the notion of tefilah:

  1. a) The midrash, quoted by Rashi on Bereishit 2:5, tells us that Hashem didn’t bring rain to facilitate plant growth until Adam davened.
  2. b) The connection of prayer with the story of Yishmael and Hagar’s wandering in the desert is clear on a level of p’shat. Note also that Yishmael’s name comes from God answering Hagar’s prayer the first time she was cast out (see Bereishit 16:11).

[3]    Rav Kook uses the term “הפרחת הנפש.”

[4]    In this light, note that the word מנחה comes from the word “נח,” or “rest,” as the afternoon is the period that the sun descends in the sky and eventually sets. See Ramban al-haTorah (Shemot 12:16).

[5]    You may be thinking “But I get work-related e-mails all day and never get to clock out at sundown!” Belive me, as a working professional, I can empathize with you. We should bear in mind that Rav Kook is formulating a spiritual typology.

[6]    There is a rich literature of Torah sources that connecting trees to man’s spiritual development, based on the pasuk כי האדם עץ השדה in Devarim 20:19. See here and here for representative examples. Poets and thinkers numbered among the chachmei ha’umot have also been sensitive to the deeper spiritual dimension of trees – see here, here, and here.

[7]    Rav Kook cites the verse ופחד יצחק היה לי (Bereishit 31:12). The connection between Yitzchak and מדת הדין appears in many sources, and is also evident on a p’shat level. Yitzchak is the most passive and withdrawn of all of the Avot. Further, his highest spiritual accomplishment is one of sacrifice (i.e. the Akeidah), which embodies the negation associated with מדת הדין.

[8]    Olat Re’iah, Inyanei Tefilah #2.

Commentary

This piece expands our understanding of what tefilah has the power to be. It is not merely another halachic obligation to satisfy by rote or and it’s not even an opportunity to present requests to God or converse with Him. It is something far more – the expression of the soul’s innate desire to connect profoundly with God. If you’re like me, this desire is not something you feel or are conscious of on a regular basis when you open your siddur. Maybe if you’re lucky you feel it a little at Neilah. But Rav Kook believed that the “soul is always praying,” and that fixed times for prayer are just opportunities when the constant prayer of the soul finds active expression.[8]

Rav Kook’s description of tefilah is lofty and feels beyond our reach. But what would happen if, the next time we struggle with kavanah during davening, we reminded ourselves of this teaching about how our souls are waiting for their chance to blossom. We’re not trying to create kavanah from nothing, the kavanah is already there and waiting for us to help it sprout.

Questions for Discussion and Reflection

  1. The ‘שיחה’ mode of tefilah as described by Rav Kook sounds like it requires a really high spiritual level. What are some of the challenges that make it hard for us to experience this kind of tefilah?
  2. In this piece, Rav Kook discusses prayer as an expression of the soul’s innate desire to connect with God. What could be other expressions of this desire?
  3. Is Rav Kook’s lofty depiction of prayer as “blossoming of spiritual potential” relevant to someone who is davening minchah from a siddur, with the fixed text that we use today? Or do you think Rav Kook is talking about prayer that is more improvised and spontaneous?
  4. Have you ever heard of Divine punishment being a natural consequence of sin, like getting burned when you stick your hand in a fire, or is that a new approach for you? Compare and contrast the ramifications of this approach with punishment as discipline, retribution, etc.

About This Piece

Ein Ayah is a commentary on the aggadic portions of the Talmud, specifically Berachot, Shabbat and Seder Zeraim. Rav Kook began writing Ein Ayah when he was a young rav in Lithuania, and continued adding material until the end of his life. Ein Ayah seeks to extract profound and fundamental principles of Torah hashkafa from the world of Aggadah.[1] It is an excellent introduction to Rav Kook’s thought, inasmuch as the pieces tend to be more shorter and self contained and less esoteric than many of Rav Kook’s other worlds. While Ein Ayah has never been translated in its entirety into English, selected excerpts have been published by Betzalel Naor in Of Societies Perfect and Imperfect. An online course from WebYeshiva covering Ein Ayah on Masechet Shabbat is available here.

[1]    As opposed to much of the traditional commentary on Aggadah (i.e. Maharsha and the commentaries printed with Ein Ya’akov) which is less systematic and takes a piecemeal approach to connecting Aggadah with major principles of hashkafa.

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.]