The Overflowing Song – Parshat Yitro

Image result for overflowing water

A printable PDF is available here.

Translation (Orot haTorah, 3:3-4 and 4:3-4):

It is essential that a person’s heart and mind cling to the all-encompassing, expansive dimension of Torah, through recognizing its underlying unity and fundamental principles. Through this, a comprehensive commitment to Torah will spill over to meticulous adherence of every individual mitzvah and halachic detail. This is similar to the way the heart provides life force to every one of the body’s organs and cells. When the heart is healthy and full of vigor, it pumps blood to even distant arteries and capillaries. Similarly, someone with a unitary perspective on Torah perceives how even mundane details express higher dimensions of ethics and holiness. He sees the light and the life within every aspect of Torah, which he regards as a splendorous treasure worthy of honor.

Without this all-encompassing state of consciousness, every part of Torah stands on its own and its vitality withers away. A person experiences Torah in a limited and fragmented way, and is thus unable to serve God with passion and complete resolve. This is what Isaiah described when he lamented “And [God’s word] became for them a commandment here and a commandment there, a line here and a line there.” [1]

To acquire a broader perspective, we must remind ourselves that every component of the Torah flows from a greater Divine totality. Granted, halacha acknowledges that not all laws and obligations share the same stature, since every part of the Torah system manifests the Divine light in its own specific and unique way. However, every particular of Torah living and learning – whether it be written or Oral Torah, a mitzvah, a halakhic detail or proper midot– contains a latent totality of light and life, holiness and supernal spirituality. Someone who acquires this perspective sees to the inner essence of every halachic detail, and perceives therein a world of splendor that fills the entire universe. Out of every detail he can compose an entire song, [2] a song that overflows until every aspect of the Torah, from the most mundane to the most sublime, resonates with a pleasing and refined melody.

Commentary

Consider the following insights from R. Moshe Weinberger about the need to perceive the Torah as a single, interconnected system:

(1) Throughout history, Jews were generally satisfied with their place in Hashem’s world. They accepted the disparate details that comprise Yiddishkeit without requiring an explanation of how they fit into the larger picture of their lives and into the puzzles of history, philosophy and so on. They even believed that they had no business making such inquiries. After all, how dare a little person expect to understand the big picture?

When the Mashiach comes, the bigger picture will be revealed. All Jews will experience Divine inspiration, and prophecy will return. So, as the spirit of that era begins to make itself felt, people are no longer satisfied with fragments. They expect to understand the relationship of the parts to the whole. And since the world is at a point where Jews are demanding how all the details are related to the bigger picture, telling them to focus on particulars will not satisfy their hearts and minds. A detail that remains unrelated to a person’s understanding of why he is a Jew will not bring him clarity or tranquility. [3]

(2) When a person lives a life of disconnected particulars, he only thinks of what he must do to get by, and when he looks over his life, he wearily asks, “What is the point?”… Without an awareness of the bigger picture, a person starts to feel that he is suffocating. Yiddishkeit itself can feel stultifying when it seems to be solely about unrelated details – about what a person may and may not do. [4]

(3) In order for a person to realize expansive, noble ideals in his day-to-day life, he must adhere to halachah… There are no shortcuts. Only through keeping every such detail can the power of a person’s dreams and hopes be unleashed. Otherwise, a person can talk about that idealism, sing about it, roll his eyes, and sway to guitar music after learning the Mei HaShiloach – but practically speaking his life will not change. [5]

It seems like the above teaching from Orot haTorah is partly autobiographical, in the sense that Rav Kook was a towering spiritual personality who saw great light in every detail of Torah. Consider the following incident from one of his Purim seudot:

When the festivities reached their height, the Rav stood at the head of the table and began a lengthy Purim discourse. He examined every mitzvah in the Torah, interpreting each one as a source for the obligation to drink on Purim. With a wonderful blend of erudition and ingenuity, he derived from every mitzvah a metaphorical, homiletic, mystical, or even literal proof that one is obligated to drink “until one is unable to distinguish between cursed Haman and blessed Mordechai.” [6]

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

Would Rav Kook would claim that minhagim also emanate from the same all-encompassing, unitary dimension of the Torah? Or do those have a different status?
Have you ever had an experience where you perceived the significance of what had seemed like a mundane aspect of halacha or Jewish practice?
According to some, much of the ‘off the derech’ phenomenon can be attributed to an approach to Judaism where the ‘big picture’ is lacking. Do you agree?[7]
How can we educate ourselves and our children to perceive the underlying unity of the entire Torah system? Is it even something that can be taught, or does a person have to attain it on their own? Does it require familiarity or training in Jewish mysticism?
Are there any particular sectors of the Orthodox community that you think excel at seeing “the light and the life within every aspect of Torah,” like Rav Kook idealizes? If so, what do they do to foster that kind of perspective?

About this Piece

Orot haTorah contains insights from Rav Kook regarding various aspects of the experience and value of Torah learning. Rav Kook’s son, Rav Tzvi Yehuda Kook, compiled it from various writings of his father. It was first published in the 1960s. Multiple commentaries have been published in Hebrew, but the work has never been translated or adapted in English. An extensive series of English shiurim on Orot haTorah from R. Moshe Weinberger is available here.

[1] Isaiah 28:10.

[2] Consider the statement attributed to Rav Kook that “Just as there are rules to song, so too there is a song in the rules.” Lit. כשם שיש חוקים בשירה כך יש שירה בחוקים. (Quoted in שיחות הרצי”ה, פרשת האזינו.)

[3] Song of Teshuva, Vol. 1 pg. 157-158.

[4] Song of Teshuva, Vol. 3, pg. 195-196.

[5] Song of Teshuva, Vol. 3 pg. 180.

[6] Mo’adei HaRe’iyah pg. 264.

[7] Rav Kook certainty would. See Orot haTeshuva, 4:10, which the first excerpt from R. Moshe Weinberger above is commenting on.

Two Stories for Tu b’Shevat

Rabbi Dr. Elazar Meir Lipschitz founded the ﬁrst Torah-oriented teachers’ seminary in Jerusalem. His daughter, Hadassah, recalled this incident:

Once, when I was a young girl, I took a walk with my father. When we reached the center of town, we turned up the street that housed Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav. As we were walking, we met up with Rav Kook, who was friendly with my father. The Rav took my father by the arm, led him to the corner of the street, and told him something in secret. When the Rav left, I gathered up the courage and asked my father, “What secret did the Rav tell you?” He replied “The Rav took me to the corner to show me that a new ﬂower had budded at the bottom of the street. He wanted to share his joy with me, and with his face aglow he said, ‘Look! Another new plant is growing in the Holy City!”

R. Aryeh Levine wrote the following in his memoirs:

I remember days of old, the year 5665 (1905), when I was privileged, by the grace of God (may His name be blessed), to arrive in the Holy Land, in Jaffa. I immediately sought out Rav Kook zt”l, and he received me cordially, as he did every Visitor. We discussed Torah issues until the time came to pray minchah. Afterwards, the Rav went out to meditate in the ﬁelds and focus his thoughts, as was his sacred practice. I went along with him.

On the way, I plucked a blade of grass or a ﬂower from the ground. The Rav shuddered and said to me gently: “Trust me! I have been careful my entire life not to pluck any plant or ﬂower for no reason, as long as it could still sprout or grow. For ‘there is no plant down on earth which does not have a mazal [a guardian angel] up in heaven telling it to grow’ (Bereishit Rabbah 10:6). Every blade of grass says something; every stone whispers a secret; every creation sings praise!”

These words, emanating from his pure and holy heart, became deeply etched into my own heart; and from then on, I began feeling a stronger sense of compassion for everything [in this world].

Both excerpted from An Angel Among Men (pg. 274-276), by Simcha Raz

Filling Our Vessels – Parshat Beshalach

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A printable PDF version is available here.

Translation (Ein Ayah, Berachot 40a):

Come and see the difference between human reality and Divine reality! In human reality, a full vessel cannot hold more, but in Divine reality the opposite is true. This is the meaning of the verse “If listening, you will listen (lit. אם שמוע תשמעו) to the voice of Hashem, your God…” (Shemot 15:26). [The double expression means] ‘If you have listened at first, you will be able to listen further.’ [1] (Gemara Berachot 40a)

It is an immutable law of physical reality that every development nullifies what comes before it. After all, one cannot shape raw material into a new form without displacing and negating the prior form. Repainting a wall requires that the old color be covered up. An employee who gets promoted has different responsibilities, and no longer occupies the same role at the company. And when the iPhone came out, most of us consigned our flip-phones to the garbage. [2]

But spiritual reality does not have these sorts of limitations. Every illumination in the spiritual realm, no matter how advanced, preserves the integrity of the lower illuminations that preceded it. It even provides the lower illuminations with additional strength and vigor. This concept, discussed at length in kabbalistic literature, [3] may seem overly abstract, but it plays out in our religious experience in a way that we can relate to. Man cannot encounter God as an unprepared and disinterested bystander. Any experience of the Divine must be preceded by human initiative and preparation. Whether we are seeking prophecy, [4] ruach ha’kodesh, [5] a deeper understanding of Torah, or an inspired davening, we cannot succeed unless we first take initiative to refine our character and strive after Divine wisdom. We do as much as we are able, [6] and that creates the foundation for God to complete the rest. [7]

This is the meaning of the above teaching of our Sages. Every physical reality is constrained. Every aspect of worldly existence has a point where its “vessel” cannot hold more without being replaced entirely. But in the spiritual realm, the more we fill our spiritual “vessels” by listening to the Divine voice, the more we prepare ourselves for an experience of the Divine that exceeds our human limitations. “If you have listened at first, you will be able to listen further.”

[1] A literal translation of this phrase (known as an “infinitive absolute” in Hebrew grammar) would be something like “if you will intently listen.”

[2] Rav Kook passed away decades before anyone had even though of a cell phone, let alone smart phones. These are all examples that I picked to illustrate Rav Kook’s point.

[3] Rav Kook references Pardes Rimonim, by R. Moshe Kordovero. I looked up the reference and found that it dealt with intricacies of the sefirot. That indicates that Rav Kook is touching on the relationship between the higher and lower sefirot. More than that I couldn’t figure out, due to my dearth of kabbalisticknowledge.

[4] Rav Kook references Maimonides’ Guide to the Perplexed (II:32) and the Talmud (Shabbat 92a) for the notion that achieving prophecy requires certain prerequisites. Contrast this with the Christian model, wherein even the most ignorant and unrefined personality can receive Divine communication through God’s grace. Both of us are לשיטתו in this regard, but that’s a topic for further discussion.

[5] For Rav Kook, this is not merely an academic illustration of his point. Rav Kook believed that the Jewish people’s return to Israel was part of a spiritual redemption that would ultimately culminate in the revival of prophecy. He even saw himself as part of this process. For more on Rav Kook’s view on prophecy, see here.

[6] The entire book of Shir haShirim deals with this dynamic of pursuit and withdrawal between the maiden (representing Klal Yisrael or the individual soul, depending on which interpretation you adopt) and her beloved (representing God).

[7] As the Sefat Emet and others have noted, the Exodus itself is part of this dynamic. On Pesach, the Jewish people were passive bystanders to God’s redemption and revelation. God manifested Himself in a way that the people had not genuinely earned or worked for. Sefirat haOmer was a period for them to purify themselves and thereby meritDivine revelation, instead of receiving it as a gift. The process culminated in Shavuot and the Divine revelation at Mount Sinai. If you are interested, Rabbi Akiva Tatz’s Living Inspired contains several chapters about how this dynamic manifests itself in our individual lives as well, in every experience of inspiration or Divine clarity.

Commentary

Rav Kook teaches that harmony and integration is the hallmark of a genuine spiritual life. Life is full of greater and lesser “illuminations,” but nothing is ever nullified or displaced. The lesser illuminations are bricks in a larger structure, not scaffolding to be taken down once the structure is complete.

Living an integrated life is a daunting challenge. We are pulled in different directions by competing spheres of responsibility and ambition. How do we balance our responsibilities to our family with our jobs and careers? How does the teenager returning from shanah aleph reconcile his passion and youthful ambition with the responsibilities of middle age, without falling into cynicism or disappointment? What about sorting out conflicts between bein adam l’chaveiro and bein adam l’makom? Between universalism and particularity? Between peace and truth? Life, by its very design, is full of these challenges. Our job is not to triage among competing values and priorities, but to strive to do justice to each, integrating every “illumination” into a coherent whole.

To make this seem less abstract, I’ve selected the following illustrations of personalities who exemplify the integrated spiritual life that Rav Kook talks about, albeit in different ways:

Once, Rav Yisrael Salanter (1809-1883) did not appear at shul for the Kol Nidrei Everyone was ready to begin, but he was nowhere to be found. The congregants became impatient and sent a messenger to the rabbi’s house to see what was keeping him, but he returned to report that no one was home. Now the congregation became worried and decided to send a search party to look for their rabbi. As one of the searchers passed a house in the poorer section of the city, he saw Rav Salanter through a window, sitting in a darkened room and bent over rocking a cradle. “Sh, Sh, be quiet,” warned the rabbi as the searchers entered. “You will wake the poor child. It took me all this time to put him to sleep.” Later, he explained that on his way to shul, he heard a baby crying. He located the house from which the sobbing came, entered it, and saw that the child had been left alone when all the elders had gone to the shul for the Kol Nidrei service. “What else could I have done?” he demanded. “How could I have started the Kol Nidrei service knowing that a poor Jewish infant was crying?”
“And the life (lit. שני חיי שרה) of Sarah was one hundred years and twenty years and seven years.” (Bereishit 23:1).שני חיי שרה refers to the lives of Sarah: she was always a one-hundred-year old adult, a twenty year-old woman, and a seven-year old child. In the realm of chemical processes, there is no way to retain biological youth in a middle-aged person, nor can the pattern of the middle-aged be preserved in old age. In the realm of the unfolding of the spirit, however, it is possible to see youth and ripe old age, or even childhood and youth, as simultaneous experiences. The advanced in years quite often display spiritual restlessness and intensity, and the young are sometimes characterized by cautious wisdom and sober judgment. An older person may he wonderfully childlike, with a dreamer’s naiveté and excitement. The idealism of youth quite often shines through the eyes of the graybeard. In fact, great people are sometimes great children. They are rich and multitalented because of their age; they are beautiful because of their honesty and sincerity. Sarah was concurrently seven, twenty, and hundred years old. She was simultaneously very old and very young, representing the aged, the adult, and the child… Sarah at twenty was mature and fully developed both intellectually and emotionally; she was energetic, bold, and daring. Yet the adult in Sarah did not destroy the child. In the deep recesses of her personality – no matter how developed, no matter how capable and brilliant, no matter how attractive and ingenious – always resided an innocent child. The adult might have reached the highest peak of intellectual greatness or growth, yet that did not interfere with the secret presence of a child in Sarah. Notwithstanding the maturation of her natural wisdom, she retained within her the young girl she had been once upon a time. In times of need and crisis, the young, bold, courageous girl came to the fore and took over. (Rav Soloveitchik, Abraham’s Journey, pg. 186-187)
Rav Yaakov Kaminetsky was once in a doctor’s waiting room, accompanied by a talmid. Also waiting for the doctor was a young Jewish boy from a totally nonobservant home. Rav Yaakov found a ball and began playing with the child. The talmid accompanying Rav Yaakov was astonished and asked his rebbe, “This child will think that a religious rabbi sits and plays ball instead of learning! Why don’t you at least talk to the boy, and convince him to become a ba’al teshuvah?” Rav Yaakov explained, “I saw that with this boy, it is impossible to talk about Yiddishkeit or mitzvot. He comes from a family so far removed from anything Jewish. I just wanted that his picture of a frum Jew should remain one of a pleasant person, so I played ball with him. Who knows, perhaps this impression will one day have an effect on him and he will come closer to Torah and mitzvot.”

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

Suppose someone’s past is filled with failure, non-observance or transgressions of Jewish law. How do thosebecome part of an integrated spiritual life? Does teshuva play a role in that process? If so, how?
Suppose you have two people, one who has integrated the different “illuminations” in his life and another who has not. Does the difference between the two manifest in the way they act, or primarily in their mindset and the way they view themselves?
Orthodox Jews make the news with unfortunate regularity because of financial improprieties. Is this rooted in a failure to integrate scrupulous ritual observance with values of morality and honesty? Or is something else at fault?
What are the two values or areas of responsibility in your life that you feel the greatest struggle to integrate?
Who do you know that exemplifies the kind of integrated spiritual personality that Rav Kook sets up as a model?

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. It is an excellent introduction to Rav Kook’s thought, inasmuch as the pieces tend to be shorter, 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 covering Ein Ayah on Masechet Shabbat is available from WebYeshiva.

Slow and Steady – Parshat Bo

Click here for a printable PDF version.

Translation (Ma’amarei haRe’iah, Pesach):

The history of the Jewish people is bounded by two redemptions. Our existence began with the Exodus from Egypt, and will reach its apex with the ultimate redemption of the messianic era. However, the future redemption will follow its own distinct trajectory, and will not be a simply a duplicate of the Exodus. In particular, the Torah emphasizes that we left Egypt “in haste” (lit b’chipazon). [1] This element is so essential that it is commemorated by the mitzvahof eating matzah and the prohibition of consuming chametz. And yet, regarding the future redemption from exile, Isaiah [2] proclaims (invoking the exact same word of חפזון) that “You will not go out in haste.” What accounts for this discrepancy?

To answer this question, we must turn back the clock and examine the spiritual state of our ancestors prior to the Exodus. The people had become accustomed to a life of crushing enslavement. The grandeur of their spiritual heritage – bequeathed from the Avot – had been entirely forgotten as the people sunk into the mire of paganism and idolatry.

And in a moment, God freed them from bondage. Our ancestors went to sleep as a motley amalgamation of slaves, but they awoke as a nation full of vigor and spiritual nobility, a nation of the sort that the world had never before witnessed. The genesis [3] of the Jewish people had to take place in haste, so that this fledgling nation could be separated from the darkened confusion of paganism which then corrupted the entire world. If God had allowed the Jewish people to develop organically like all other nations, they would have inevitably assimilated pagan influences. Instead of serving as a light to the nations, they would have died in the darkness. Thus, the haste of the Exodus is not a minor detail – it demonstrates the spiritual state of humanity at that junction in history.

But humanity will be in a very different spiritual state at the dawn of the messianic redemption. The Jewish people will have succeeded in driving out the last vestiges of paganism, and so there will be no need for a hasty flight from a spiritually corrupting atmosphere. Indeed, even in this pre-messianic era, our influence has greatly succeeded at elevating humanity. Through the sanctity of our way of life and centuries of sacrifice for the Torah, the light of Israel’s divine soul has driven away much darkness.

Thus, the final redemption will come not for Israel to escape from a corrupted world, but for different purposes entirely. Only as a nation living in its own land can Israel’s spiritual light shine forth in its full measure of strength, in its most pure and essential form. In a world not entirely purged of the scourge of paganism, centuries of exile have caused Israel to imbibe foreign influences, and it must purify itself of these influences to fully consummate its role as a light to the nations. However, redemption’s scope is not limited to our role as an influence upon humanity. Our return to the Land of Israel is necessary on its own terms, so that we may live in accordance with our spiritual nature and the Torah’s righteous spirit of freedom. [4]

Thus, the future redemption is about ‘walking towards’ instead of ‘running away from.’ It is a spiritual state that we must strive for and work to realize, and so by its very terms, it must occur incrementally. [5] For this reason, Isaiah proclaims that “You will not go out in haste.”

Commentary

This excerpt touches on one of the most complex issues in Torah hashkafa – the relationship between Israel and the nations. It teaches us that we grossly oversimplify matters when we work with a binary model of ‘universalism vs. particularism.’ There is a third way, what Rabbi Jonathan Sacks has called “particularism for the sake of universality.” The Jewish people are charged to become a “light to the nations,” and are tasked with raising the spiritual level of all peoples. However, this requires a certain aloofness and isolation from foreign influences, one that is not motivated by hatred or fear, but rather a desire to preserve our distinct sanctity for the benefit of all humanity. (This is sometimes referred to as the “mission theory.”) This paradox illustrates what the physicist Niels Bohr once remarked, that “The opposite of a correct statement is a false statement. But the opposite of a profound truth may well be another profound truth.”

If the Jewish people are meant to be a “light to the nations,” the darkness we are to illuminate – for Rav Kook, at least – is paganism. You may be thinking that paganism is irrelevant. “Isn’t that something that remains only in certain far-off corners of Africa or Asia? It plays no role in modern society!” Consider, however, that certain Torah sources [6] speak of man worshipping himself as the final form of paganism before the advent of mashiach. At its core, paganism is about acknowledging a reality and source of moral truth independent of God. The notion that every selfish desire is really a mandate, that man is the measure of all things – this is the founding premise of contemporary culture. Although has dispensed with the idols, it is simply an advanced form of paganism, which will dissolve and be dispersed as part of our march to the final redemption.

[1] Devarim 16:3.

[2] 52:12

[3] I am deliberately using this term in an evocative way – see Ramban’s introduction to the book of Exodus. An English translation is available here.

[4] When Rav Kook talks about freedom, he means the ability to live in accordance with one’s true self, uninhibited by desires or impulses that prevent us from fulfilling our deepest life purpose. This is what modern political theorists call “positive liberty,” as opposed to “negative liberty,” which is simply the ability to follow one’s desires without interference from other persons.

[5] The Talmud Yerushalmi (Berachot 1:1) relates that two scholars were walking in the Arbel Valley when they saw the first rays of dawn break forth over the valley. Rabbi Chiyya turned his colleague and said, “So will be the redemption of Israel. In the beginning it starts out slowly; then, as it progresses, it shines greater and greater.”

[6] See Letter Six of Rav Hirsch’s Nineteen Letters, along with footnote 4 of Rav Joseph Elias’ commentary.

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

Are there other reasons you can think of (or have heard of) that the Exodus had to take place in haste?
What comes to mind when you think of the Jewish people serving as a ‘light to the nations’? Following halacha meticulously? Building orphanages in Kenya? Doing business honestly? And what do you think Rav Kook has in mind when he uses the term?
Rav Kook says that the Jewish people have absorbed unhealthy influences in the course of exile. What would you point you or identify as examples?
According to Rav Kook, the Jewish people at its inception was “full of vigor and spiritual nobility.” How does this fit with the rest of the Torah’s narratives about the people’s complaints and backsliding?
For Rav Kook, Israel’s role as a “light to the nations” is precisely what necessitates our eventual ingathering from exile and return to the Land of Israel. This is interesting, since other Jewish thinkers have used the “mission theory” to bring out the positive nature of the exile. Do you think the “mission theory” supports or impairs our relationship with the Land of Israel?
Rav Kook states that messianic redemption must come as the conclusion of a process. What are some practical differences that emerge between understanding mashiach as a process and expecting it to be an overnight event like the Exodus?

About this Piece

Ma’amarei haRe’iah is a collection of essays and articles written by Rav Kook. It has never been translated into English. However, because the pieces were written for a popular audience, they tend to be written in a simpler style of Hebrew and are less esoteric.

Proactive Emunah – Parshat Va’eira

Translation (Ein Ayah, Berachot 9b):

When Eliyahu challenged the prophets of Ba’al to a showdown on Mount Carmel, he beseeched “Answer me, God, answer me!”(Melachim Aleph, 18:37). This was a two-fold request, as if to say, “Answer me by bringing down fire upon my offering,” and“Answer me that the people not say it was done through sorcery.” (Gemara Berachot 9b)

True emunah affects a person’s essence and becomes part of their very being. A person can only reach this level through actively engaging their intellect, [1] in contemplating that the soul reaches the highest level of perfection through yirat Hashem [2] and spiritual refinement of one’s personality. The natural result of this sort of emunah is good deeds and refined character traits.

From this, we derive a striking conclusion about the spiritual impact of open, revealed miracles. Such miracles actually present a certain danger to emunah. The incontestability of God’s existence or power overwhelms a person’s consciousness, depriving them of the opportunity to actively reflect on what the miracle is supposed to demonstrate. In our relationship with God, open miracles make us into passive bystanders instead of active participants. This leads to an emunah that is nothing more than dry, intellectual assent to theological propositions.

For this reason, God rarely performs open miracles that bear absolute, mathematically incontrovertible signs of His authorship. The miraculous always comes intermixed with some element of nature (lit. טבע), so that we can credibly attribute it to sorcery [3] or some other manipulation of natural forces. God does this so that we consciously engage our powers of discernment in recognizing the miracle and contemplating its true message.

This is what our Sages are getting at in the above teaching from Gemara Berachot. Eliyahu could have performed a miracle that demolished the people’s doubts and left no room for questioning God’s power. But he deliberately chose a miracle that could be attributed to sorcery. This way, the people, guided by their inner voice of goodness and nobility, would be coaxed into consciously acknowledging the emptiness and evil of idolatry. They would not be cowed into this awareness, but would acquire it as active participants, thus attaining true emunah in the process.

Commentary

We are used to thinking of revealed miracles as an unqualified blessing, as experiences that would wipe away all our doubts and cement our religious commitment if we experienced them. Rav Kook teaches that this is not entirely accurate. Miracles only generate emunah when accompanied by engagement and conscious involvement. Because emunah is something that a person must actively acquire, an excess of the overtly miraculous would actually stunt our spiritual growth.

Although Rav Kook does not make the connection, it seems obvious [4] that his insight explains the role of Pharaoh’s sorcerers (lit. chartumim) in the parshiot of the Exodus. God could easily have sent Moshe to perform plagues that the Egyptian sorcerers could not recreate, or deprived them of their power. But he did not so, inasmuch as the plagues were not just punitive, but also an educational tool for the Egyptians and their pagan world. As Moshe declares to Pharaoh before each set of plagues, “Through this you shall know that I am Hashem”; “You will know that I am Hashem in the midst of the land”; “You shall know that there is none like Me in the world.” [5]

Rav Kook also reminds us there is rarely mathematical certainty in matters of faith. Even a revealed miracle can be misinterpreted or credibly explained away as an act of sorcery – or, as is more likely for our generation, it could be attributed to random chance, science [6] or historical coincidence. A miracle is not only witnessed, it must be interpreted, and the act of interpretation – if done properly – is what builds our emunah and strengthens our relationship with God.

[1] Rav Kook references Chovot haLevavot, a classic work of Jewish ethical literature from the 11^thcentury, which emphasizes this point as one of its main themes.

[2] I am deliberately leaving this term untranslated. Neither “fear of God” or “awe of God” do justice to what this term means for Rav Kook, a notion I hope to explore in a future issue of Mareh Kohen.

[3] Rav Kook assumes (following the mainstream interpretation of Talmudic and rabbinic literature) that sorcery involves real powers and is part of God’s design of the universe. In contrast, Rambam maintained that sorcery is fraudulent and foolish, and that the Torah prohibits it for that reason. See Ramban’s commentary on the Torah (Devarim 9:13) and Rambam’s Mishnah Torah (Hilchot Avodat Kokhavim 11:15).

[4] I have to give credit to Chumash ha’Re’iah, for including this piece from Ein Ayah in Parshat Va’eira.

[5] Shemot 7:17, 8:18 and 9:14.

[6] Many years ago, I read a piece from Rebbe Nachman of Breslov that science has taken over the role of the chartumim from the Exodus story. I have unfortunately forgotten the mareh makom.

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

Reread the beginning of Perek 3 of Parshat Shemot(particularly verse 3), in light of this piece from Rav Kook. Do you now have a greater appreciation of why Moshe was chosen to redeem the Jewish people? (R. David Fohrman has a beautiful video on this point – see here, around the 15 and 26 minute marks.)
Many have observed that Jewish schools and yeshivot do not put enough emphasis on teaching about emunah. What kind of approaches would Rav Kook would encourage (or rule out) to address this problem? Do you think he would approve of initiatives like http://animaamin.org?
Can you think of a time in your life where God’s involvement was not obvious and you had to exert yourself to find it? What about a similar time in the history of the Jewish people?
The generation of the Exodus witnessed more revealed miracles than any other in history. However, the rest of the Torah is full of their backsliding, spiritual failures and complaints. Based on Rav Kook’s insights, is it plausible to argue that their emunah was stunted by a surfeit of miracles? Or was something else responsible?

Further Research and Food for Thought

See the eighth derasha of Drashot haRan(availablehere) for a very different explanation of why God rarely performs incontestable miracles. See also Ramban’s commentary on the Torah to Bereishit 6:19, regarding the size of Noah’s ark.
Below is a quote from On Trails, a non-fictional work in which Robert Moor, an atheist journalist, recounts a hike through Louisiana field with a nomadic traveler. I think it illustrates Rav Kook’s point beautifully:

He [Eberhardt, the nomadic traveler] waved his hand at the land around us. “If you stand here and look out here across these fields, you can see that there is an order. You say that’s all just chaos, but it isn’t. There is an order. And that didn’t come from Darwin… When Eberhart looked out at those fields, he saw a divine creation, infused with purpose, perfectly designed and lovingly tended. Whereas when I looked at the same field, I saw the miracle of evolution – an infinitely complex constellation of particles, cells, bodies and systems competing and cooperating, reproducing and dying off, self-perpetuating and yet always in flux. I tried hard to imagine the field from his perspective, and then again from mine.

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 Ayahseeks to extract profound and fundamental principles of Torah hashkafa from the world of Aggadah. It is an excellent introduction to Rav Kook’s thought, inasmuch as the pieces tend to be shorter, 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 covering Ein Ayah on Masechet Shabbat is available from WebYeshiva.