Immersing in Torah – Parshat Shemini

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Translation (Ein Ayah, Berachot 16a):

A person who becomes tamei can only attain purity by tevilah, immersing in water. This alludes to a profound spiritual lesson. All immoral deeds, character flaws and corrupt ideas stem from the same root. And that is a person’s failure to realize the transitory character of existence in this world.[1] Everything in this physical world is meant to be a vehicle to serve a higher and more eternal purpose.

But we lose sight of this truth and come to see ourselves as permanent residents. Immersing in water recalibrates our perspective. A person cannot survive underwater for an extended time. Thus, immersion forces us to confront the fleeting nature of life in this world. We emerge from the water invigorated to strive after eternal values and aspirations, to imbue our lives with goodness, wisdom and righteousness.

However, tevilah is not the only way to attain this recalibrated perspective. Our Sages hinted to another way when they compared Torah study to a purifying stream of water:

Why does Bilam [in Bamidbar 24:6] compare the tents (lit. אהלים) of Israel to streams? This teaches us that just as a stream brings one from impurity to purity, so too the tents of Torah study raise one from guilt to merit. (Gemara Berachot, 16a)

Throughout midrashic literature, we find that places of Torah study are referred to as ‘tents.’[2] Tents are the paradigm of a transient dwelling. By using this terminology, our Sages highlight a unique aspect of Torah study. Torah study is more than just another religious obligation or a how-to manual for the mitzvot.Studying Torah refines our sensibilities and raises our aspirations to the realm of the eternal. Like a mikveh or a natural spring, Torah purifies us and lifts us out of the smallness of being mired in this world.

Commentary/Insights

Rav Kook doesn’t go into detail about how exactly Torah study raises us out of the smallness of the physical world. It could be a simple process – i.e. Torah is the unchanging word of the Eternal G-d, so studying Torah forces you to confront eternal, spiritual matters. Or maybe Rav Kook has in mind a more mystical explanation.[3] However, there may be a different expression of the transcendental nature of Torah, which I think is illustrated by a description that Rav Soloveitchik gave about his experience of giving shiur:

I start shiur…I don’t know what the conclusion will be. Whenever I start the shiur the door opens another old man walks in and sits down. He is older than I am. He is my grandfather, Rav Chaim Brisker, without whom you cannot learn nowadays. The door opens quietly again and another old man walks in. He is older than Rav Chaim. He lived in the 17^thcentury. What’s his name? Shabbesai Cohen, the famous Shakh who must be present when dinei mamonot are discussed… More visitors show up, some from 11^th, 12^th, 13^thcenturies, some from antiquity: Rabbi Akiva, Rashi, Rabbenu Tam, the Ra’avad, the Rashba, more and more come in. What do I do? I introduce them to my pupils and the dialogue commences. The Rambam says something and the Ra’avad disagrees: sometimes it’s very nasty; the Ra’avad uses very sharp language. A boy jumps up to defend the Rambam against the Ra’avad and the boy is fresh. You know how young boys are. He uses improper language so I correct him. Another boy jumps up with a new idea, the Rashba smiles gently. I try to analyze what the young boy meant… another boy intervenes… we call upon Rabbenu Tam to express his opinion and suddenly a symposium of generations comes into existence. Generations, young boys twenty two or twenty three, and my generation, the generation of Rav Chaim Brisker, of the Shakh… of Rabbenu Tam, Rav Hai Ga’on, Rabbi Akiva, and Rabbi Elazar, and Rabbi Yohanan Ben Zakai… We all speak one language… We all chat. We all laugh. We all enjoy the company. We all pursue one goal. We all are committed to a common vision and we all operate with the same categories. There is Mesorah collegiality, friendship, comity between old and young between antiquity and Middle Ages and modern times… This unity of generations, this march of centuries, this conversation of generations this dialogue between antiquity and presentwill finally bring the redemption of the Jew.

The Gemara in Berachot is not the only place where our Sages compare Torah to water. Consider the following additional sources:

Gemara Ta’anit 7b – “Why are matters of Torah likened to water, as it is written “Ho! Everyone who thirsts, come for water! (Isaiah 55:1)”? Just as water leaves a high place and flows to a low place, so too, Torah matters are retained only by one whose spirit is lowly [i.e., a humble person].

Shir haShirim Rabbah – “Just as water is a source of life, so is Torah a source of life…Just as water comes from heaven, so too is the Torah’s origin in heaven… Just as water originates in tiny drops and accumulates into mighty streams and rivers, so the Torah is acquired word by word and verse by verse… Just as someone who does not know how to swim will drowned in water, so too with Torah, if one doesn’t know how to ‘swim’ and issue proper halachic guidance, he can drown in it.”

Later sources elaborate on this imagery as well. In the words of R. Aharon Lichtenstein:

Water represents primal existence. Even before Creation, God’s spirit hovered over the water. Water is the most basic necessity for man and for all life; it therefore expresses naturalness. There is nothing more natural, more primeval, than a spring gurgling in a place that no human eye has ever seen and where no human foot has ever trodden. Fire, in contrast, is a product of technology. Fire expresses creativity, innovation, and dynamism. The discovery of fire is one of the most important revolutions in human history, the basis for all subsequent technology. Unlike water, which is to be found around us in nature, a person who needs fire must seek it, pursue it, work to create it. The Torah, given in fire and in water, shares characteristics with both of them. Like water, the Torah too preceded the creation of the Earth. The world was created only for the sake of the Torah, which is called “reshit” (the first). The Torah is primal and natural: God “looked into the Torah and created the world” (Zohar, Teruma 161a).

[1]In the Hebrew original, Rav Kook uses the language of כגר ולא כתושב.

[2]A familiar example – midrashim about the Torah’s description of Ya’akov as an איש תם יושב אהלים. If you have a copy of the authoritative source Little Midrash Says, look up the illustration contained therein.

[3]In the Hebrew original, Rav Kook describes this property of Torah as a ‘סגולה’, which implies that it’s not something entirely rational.

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

What does it mean to be overly rooted in physical, this-worldly matters? What can we do to make sure we maintain a proper perspective?
Why is it important to study Torah? And which is more important, the experiential dimension of Torah study or the pragmatic goal of absorbing information? Do we have to choose?
Rav Kook explains that tevilahcomes to dislodge a perspective of excessive rootedness in this world. That seems to associate tumah with a flawed mindset that needs correction. But we find that tumah is associated with biological realities which we have no control over (i.e. niddah, zav, yoledet, etc.) How can Rav Kook imply that tumah involves being overly rooted in this world?^[A]
Our Sages refer to Shabbat as מעין עולם הבא, a semblance of the World to Come. Based on Rav Kook’s teaching about the spiritual meaning behind tevilah, can you suggest an explanation for the practice (common among Chasidim) to immerse in the mikveh on Erev Shabbat?
The second pasuk in the Torah reads וְהָאָ֗רֶץ הָֽיְתָ֥ה תֹ֨הוּ֙ וָבֹ֔הוּ וְח֖שֶׁךְ עַל־פְּנֵ֣י תְה֑וֹם וְר֣וּחַ אֱלֹקים מְרַחֶ֖פֶת עַל־פְּנֵ֥י הַמָּֽיִם. How might this support Rav Kook’s understanding of tevilah?

[A]In his commentary on the Torah, Rav Shimson Raphael Hirsch develops the notion that tumah is a symbolic system for emphasizing the value of moral freedom. Moral duties and spiritual values are entirely incompatible with a purely physical conception of existence. Death is thus the highest form of tumah, because it “awakens the idea that Man has altogether no free will… that Man is a mere puppet in the hands of the physical powers of Nature.” All other forms of tumah, even those beyond one’s control – especially those beyond one’s control– can awaken a similar reaction, as Rav Hirsch discusses at length. Regarding childbirth, for example, Rav Hirsch writes that “Man originates, grows and exists like a plant and the noblest and most glorious name that the human tongue can utter, the name ‘Mother,’ reminds one at same time of the purely physical unfree process of human origin. If anywhere, it is surely here, that the fact must be established, that, in spite of this, once he is born, Man is a morally free agent. Above all, the Mother herself, under the fresh impression of her physically completely passively and painfully having to submit to the forces of the physical laws of Nature at the most sublime procedure of her earthly calling, has to re-establish again the consciousness of her own spiritual height.” Are you convinced? Why or why not?

The Completeness of the Incomplete – Parshat Tzav

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Translation (Olat Re’iah):

And now, on account of our sins, the Mikdash is destroyed and the Tamid offering has ceased…. But you have declared that the prayers of our lips can be accepted in place of korbanot (lit. ונשלמה פרים שפתינו). Therefore, may it be Your will, our G-d and G-d of our forefathers, that the words of our mouths be accepted before you as if we had offered the Tamid in its appointed time…

Matters of spirit and sanctity are not arbitrary. G-d, the Creator of all worlds, has imbued the spiritual world with certain laws and axioms. The sacrifices seem to embody this principle more than any other area of the Torah, given their myriad of details and precise requirements. G-d is intensely concerned with what type of animal is brought, where is it offered, how its blood is applied to the altar, etc.. This system contains tremendous spiritual power. Indeed, the sacrifices bring about nothing less than the indwelling of the Shechinah in the Mikdash and the Jewish people. We would thus expect that after the destruction of the Mikdash, the spiritual content of the korbanot is irrevocably lost.

However, we must bear in mind that G-d can supersede the laws that govern the spiritual world. His supernal and all-encompassing will is the substrate of all existence. G-d’s will cannot be constrained by anything, and certainly not by the spiritual ‘laws’ that He Himself authored! And so if man fails to realize some spiritual goal, G-d’s vivifying will can reveal itself and complete whatever is missing. This is what Tehillim means when it describes G-d as the One who “Opens his hands and satisfies every living thing with its desire”,[1]the One who “Encourages the humble with salvation.’[2] This is the dynamic at work in the principle of ונשלמה פרים שפתינו. G-d supersedes the limitations of the normal spiritual system. He accepts sanctity of speech in place of sanctity of action.

But this only works because human speech emanates from the innermost dimension of the soul. When a Jew speaks, he taps into a sanctity that transcends his individual being, a sanctity that is rooted in the collective heritage of the Jewish people. That sanctity manifested itself openly when the Temple stood and is still latent within us, notwithstanding the fact that the Temple has been destroyed. Even in our lowly exilic state, we harbor an inner connectedness to G-d that we have inherited from our ancestors. And in the merit of that inherited, collective sanctity, we express our yearning that the supernal will of G-d accept the deficient “offering of our lips” and make it whole.

Putting this all together, we now understand why we introduce the prayer that G-d accept “the words of our mouths… as if we had offered the Tamid in its appointed time” with the words “Let it be Your will, our G-d and G-d of our forefathers….”

“May it be Your will” – because only Your supernal will can transcend the limitations of the ordinary spiritual order.
“Our G-d and G-d of our forefathers” – in the merit of the collective, ancestral sanctity of the Jewish people, which we express by means of our speech.

[1] I think Rav Kook is interpreting as follows – G-d is משביע, i.e. completes, the רצון, the incomplete and unactualized will of all of his creations.

[2] 145:16, 147:6.

Story

I think the following well-known story about the Ba’al Shem Tov illustrates Rav Kook’s point:

A certain villager used to pray on the Yamim Noraim in the Beit Midrash of the Baal Shem Tov. He had a child whose wits were dull and who could not even read the letters in the siddur, much less recite a holy word. His father never brought him along to the city, because the boy was completely ignorant. But when the boy became Bar Mitzvah, his father took him with him to the city for Yom Kippur, so as to be able to watch him and keep him from eating out of simple ignorance.

Now the boy had a little flute on which he used to play all the time when he sat in the field tending his flock. He took the flute with him from home and put it in his coat, and his father did not know about it. The boy sat in synagogue all Yom Kippur without praying, because he did not know how.

During Musaf, he said to his father. “Father, I want to play the flute.” His father became terrified and spoke sharply to the boy. The boy had to restrain himself. During the Afternoon Prayer the boy repeated again: “Father let me play on my flute.” Seeing that the boy wanted badly to play on his flute, his father said to him “Where is the flute? The child pointed to the pocket of his coat. The father therefore held the child’s pocket in his hand, to keep the boy from taking out the flute and playing on it.

Holding the pocket with the flute in this way, the man stood and prayed Neilah. In the middle of the prayer, the boy forced the flute out of his pocket and blew a blast so loud that all who heard it were taken aback.

When the Baal Shem Tov heard the sound, he shortened his prayer. After the prayer the Baal Shem Tov said, “With the sound of this flute the child lifted up all the prayers and eased my burden. For this child does not know anything but by dint of his seeing and hearing the prayer of Israel all of this holy day, the prayer’s holy spark kindled a fire in him and the flames of his longing burned higher and higher until his soul nearly expired. Because of the strength of his longing he played the note of his heart truly, without any distraction, for the sole sake of the Name of G-d. Now the pure breath of his lips was very acceptable to Him and by this means all the prayers were lifted up.”

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

Rav Kook writes that the spiritual world has its own laws and axioms, and he discusses one in particular. Can you think of any others?
How would we relate to people differently if we judged them on their ideals and their yearnings, instead of what they actually accomplished? How would we judge ourselves differently?
The idea of ונשלמה פרים שפתינו is one connection between speech and korbanot, but we find another in the very notion of prayer itself. Our Sages (Gemara Berachot, 26b) teach that the daily prayers were established in correspondence to the sacrificial order in the Mikdash (i.e. two daily Tamid offerings and the burning of animal parts in the evening). Can Rav Kook’s teaching shed light on the value or spiritual function of prayer in general?
Does the idea that the spiritual world has its own laws make sense to you, or is it counterintuitive? Why or why not?
Can you think of anyone (living or historical) who embodies the idea of being connected to the collective sanctity of the Jewish people?
The simple understanding of ונשלמה פרים שפתינו is that it is limited to korbanot, but some sources extend it to all mitzvot. They claim that learning about a particular mitzvah contains all of the spiritual potential of actual performance. Which side of this debate do you think makes more sense?

About this Piece

Olat Re’iah is a two-volume commentary on the siddur that Rav Kook began writing while trapped in London during World War I. Only a small portion was compiled by Rav Kook himself; the majority was collected by Rav Kook’s son from a variety of his father’s writings and unpublished manuscripts. The Hebrew in Olat Re’iah is quite challenging, but an English translation was published only a few months ago by Koren. The translation was done by Bezalel Naor, who is one of the world experts on Rav Kook’s thought. Koren’s translation is accessible and infuses prayer with Rav Kook’s unique dimension of freshness and exciting spirituality. It is well worth your time.

Lost in Thought – Parshat Vayikra

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Translation (Orot haTeshuva, Perek 14): [1]

Sometimes a person’s spirit falls into a state of smallness, and he does not find any satisfaction within himself. This feeling is due to the paucity of his good deeds, the quantity of his sins, insufficient diligence in Torah study.

Such a person must exert himself in the realm of thought. He must bear in the mind the teaching of the Zohar that “the thought of a person who understands one matter [via inference] from another is more valued by the Holy One, blessed be He, than all sacrifices and burnt offerings.” [2] This means that a person’s holy thought and supernal, mental visualizations possess all of the qualities of the sacrifices and all of the qualities of the physical acts of worship associated with them…

It is possible that many aspects of his descents come about because he has not properly appreciated the foundation of his thought. Therefore, [a person] should exert greater effort to understand with an inner understanding. [This is] because the rectification of the entire world and the healing of all people depend upon the foundation of thought. He should elevate his thought as much as he can and rise to teshuva out of out of inner love.

“Fortunate are the people who know the shofar blast (lit. teruah); G-d, they will walk in the light of Your countenance.” (Tehillim 89:161)

Commentary

A person realizes that he has not lived up to his dreams and expectations. He has performed few good deeds, learned little Torah, prayed inadequately, and failed to improve his personality traits. To the contrary, he has committed sins. Seeing no evidence of growth and improvement, he feels inadequate and believes that he has failed.

At first, he may hold onto his dreams — but that only makes him miserable, and sometimes those around him as well. Eventually, the discrepancy between his ideals and his reality grows so painful that he prefers to leave the world of deep thoughts and sink into the realm of smallness. He shrivels up and slips into a superficial way of thinking that he believes is appropriate for a person of few accomplishments. But that is just the opposite of what he should do — which is to maintain his great thoughts and aspirations.

A person must not allow himself to become small-minded. Rather, he must redouble his efforts to remain in the world of deep thought. There, he is free and can accomplish a tremendous amount. Even if he is not living properly, as long as he maintains his spiritual ambitions and insights into the nature of mitzvot and good deeds, he has the opportunity to improve. As the Zohar teaches, the thoughts of a Jew who does not settle for smallness, but rather lives in a realm of greatness, are more precious to G-d than all sacrifices and burnt offerings.

Now, we understand that holy thoughts are valuable, but what is the logic of comparing them with sacrifices? The two categories seem to lack any overlap that would allow us to place them on a spectrum and give the gold medal to holy thoughts. [3] The answer is that sacrifices are not an end of themselves, but a tool, a sacred technology for uplifting our consciousness and bringing us closer to G-d. Indeed, the very word קרבן derives from the root ק.ר.ב., literally ‘coming close.’ Sometimes, a person brings a sacrifice out of a voluntary desire to come close to G-d, [4] and sometimes he must bring it to repair the damage from some transgression or other spiritual failure. But the mere act of sacrificing an animal has no value unless it catalyzes an inner transformation. This is why many of the Nevi’im reacted furiously when ascribes were brought by their religiously and ethically corrupt contemporaries. In the words of Isaiah (1:11, 16-17), “Of what use are your many sacrifices to Me? says the Lord. I am sated with the burnt-offerings of rams and the fat of fattened cattle; and the blood of bulls and sheep and he-goats I do not want… Wash, cleanse yourselves, remove the evil of your deeds from before My eyes, cease to do evil. Learn to do good, seek justice, strengthen the robbed, perform justice for the orphan, plead the case of the widow.”

Although a superficial reading might suggest otherwise, the prophets are notmerely accusing the people of being hypocrites. [5] Nowhere in Nevi’im do we find the suggestion that keeping kosher, observing holidays or any other mitzvah is worthless if one is guilty of ethical failings! Evidently, korbanot generate a particularly pernicious type of religious hypocrisy. Someone who brings a korban despite leading a profane and unethical life has confused mistaken the means for the end. To quote another one of the prophets (Hoshea 6:6), “For I desire loving-kindness, and not sacrifices, and knowledge of G-d rather than burnt offerings.

Sometimes when a person has great and holy thoughts, various things prevent him from carrying them out. The source of that constraint may be external – his neighborhood, spouse, children, and the like – or internal. But even then G-d accepts his holy thoughts as offerings.…. even if a Jew’s practical life is in shambles, as long as he possesses holy thoughts, he can maintain himself in a place of greatness until miracles will yet occur.

If a person with a strong inclination to live in the realm of thought sees that he has not improved over the years, he may view his thoughts, ideals, dreams, and plans as feeble and insignificant. Not valuing them, he judges himself to be a small person with small deeds. He thus abandons his deep thoughts – and because his nature is to think, now he thinks deeply about foolish things. But this is the wrong approach. He must rather exert himself and receive counsel in order to continue giving credence to his large thoughts. It is true that he is having a hard time realizing them – nevertheless, they are authentic. As long as his deep thoughts remain important to him, he will be able to work them into his life and become a bigger person.

As a result of holding onto his good, true, and deep thoughts, a person is able to stay connected to holiness. Those thoughts bring about healing, salvation, and other rectifications. This is so even if this person does not always carry out his thoughts. Now, a person who is living a small life has a natural tendency to abandon his great thoughts, because of the gap between the two. But to the contrary, he should elevate the thoughts inner life until he attains a deep, powerful teshuvah from inner love.

Rav Kook concludes with a verse from Tehillim – “Fortunate are the people who know the shofar blast (lit. teruah); G-d, they will walk in the light of Your countenance.” How does this verse connect to the previous teaching? It seems that Rav Kook is picking up on the notion of “knowing” the shofar blast. The verse is referring to someone who at least knows and understands the depths associated with the teruah, even if at present he cannot actualize them by doing teshuvah. Such a person should not despair or abandon his lofty thoughts– on the contrary, he is “fortunate” and will “eventually walk in the light of G-d’s countenance.”

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

How exactly are korbanot supposed to lead to G-d-consciousness?
Rav Moshe Weinberger writes that “A person who is living a small life has a natural tendency to abandon his great thoughts, because of the gap between the two.” Could this (paradoxically) explain any of the ‘off the derech’ phenomenon?
Does the written Torah present any laws about the korbanot that indicate the importance of thought in the process?[6]
Are there any behaviors or characteristics that you think characterize someone who leads a small-minded life?
Rav Kook writes that “the rectification of the entire world and the healing of all people depend upon the foundation of thought.” How exactly does this work? Is it a mystical/metaphysical process, or something that operates in a way we can comprehend?
What should you do to promote or hold onto thoughts of greatness?
Rav Kook draws a connection between holy thoughts, teshuva and the shofar, but doesn’t elaborate on how they relate together. What do you think he is getting at?

[1]The translation and commentary are largely excepted from R. Moshe Weinberger’s Song of Teshuva.

[2]Zohar, Nasso 121b.

[3]To use more formal terminology, these seem like nominal concepts instead of ordinal ones.

[4]R. Menachem Leibtag notes that Sefer Vayikra starts off with voluntary korbanot, as if to emphasize that sin and atonement is not the primary motif of sacrifices.

[5]A widespread misconception (outside the Torah world) is that the Prophets opposed the legalism of the Torah, and emphasized the value ethical conduct to the exclusion of mitzvah observance.

[6]Ok, so you had to cheat and look at the footnote. See Vayikra 5:5 and 7:18.

Building a Strong Foundation – Parshat Pekudei

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Translation (Midbar Shur, Drush 15):

One hundred kikar of the silver [collected from the census of half-shekalim] was used for casting the sockets of the Mishkan and the dividing curtain… (Shemot 38:27)

Commentary

Although peace is an important value for all nations, and not only the Jewish people, there is an important difference in our respective concepts of peace. The non-Jewish world regards peace as a means to some end, usually material prosperity. After all, strife, conflict and war interfere with the ability of individuals to satisfy their desires. In Israel, however, peace has intrinsic value of its own. Our nation’s innermost desire is to achieve closeness with the Divine, and God’s presence only rests upon us when we are in harmony with each other. [1]

From this distinction arises another very important difference. In the world at large, where peace is merely a means to an end, the emphasis is placed on acting in a peaceable manner. The main thing is that someone acts to promote the welfare of his fellow. What lies in the recesses of one’s heart, whether one lives with an inner sense of peace and collective unity – this is of secondary importance. But for the Jewish people, with its elevated notion of peace, a consciousness and state of mind of peace is equally important. This is why God commands that we specifically give half of a shekel. The action of contributing to the collective is only half of the task; the other half is the mental state of loving fellow Jews and the Jewish people as a collective. (Incidentally, this is also why the Torah [2] prohibits a wealthy person from contributing more than a half-shekel. It is God’s way of signaling that the shekel contribution is more than just a practical matter of raising funds.)

There is a third fundamental difference in our conception of peace, which flows from the earlier two. Among the nations of the world, it is the individual who is the ultimate beneficiary of peace. This involves an element of egotism. However, in Israel, the primary and intended beneficiary of peace is the collective. God sealed His covenant with Klal Yisrael and His presence rests among that collective only when there is peace. [3]

This is why the half-shekalim collected by Moshe were used to make the sockets (lit. אדנים) that held together the beams of the Mishkan. That fact that every Jew contributed to the construction of the Mishkan was literally and figuratively the foundation of its holiness. This set the tone for the future and for all matters of holiness. Sanctity, whether in the midbar or in the twenty-first century, is the domain of the collective. We do not believe that the collective exists only for the sake of the individual. On the contrary, the individual Jew, as important as he is, finds his highest striving in contributing to the collective.

Food for Thought

Fyodor Dostoevsky (Russia, 1800s), The Brothers Karamazov: “Some claim the world is gradually becoming united, that it will grow into a brotherly community as distances shrink and ideas are transmitted through the air. Alas, you must not believe that men can be united in this way. To consider freedom as directly dependent on the number of man’s requirements and the extent of their immediate satisfaction shows a twisted understanding of human nature, for such an interpretation only breeds in men a multitude of senseless, stupid desires and habits and endless preposterous inventions. People are more and more moved by envy now, by the desire to satisfy their material greed, and by vanity.”
Samson Raphael Hirsch (Germany, 1800s), Chorev: “It is only essays which I venture to offer, not a complete treatise. I shall be happy if here and there someone more gifted than I am finds a thought which he considers worth pursuing, taking up the work at the point where my powers come to an end… I shall be happy if anything erroneous or false attaching to my work is recognized as such, so that it does not help to increase the total of error and falsehood in the world; but I shall also be happy if it contains something true and pure which [God]… would not disdain to reckon as but a small contribution to the joyous upbuilding of the Holy of Holies in Israel. To have carried even one stone to the mighty structure, to have contributed one drop of oil to the lamp of the Sanctuary – who would not find in this his abundant reward!”
Yosef Dov Soloveitchik (America, 1900s), Tradition 17:2: “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. We, for instance, lay claim to Eretz Israel. God granted the land to us as a gift. To whom did He pledge the land? Neither to an individual, nor to a partnership consisting of millions of people. He gave it to the Knesset Israel, to the community as an independent unity, as a distinct juridic metaphysical person. He did not promise the land to me, to you, to them; nor did He promise the land to all of us together. Abraham did not receive the land as an individual, but as the father of a future nation. The owner of the Promised Land is the Knesset Israel, which is a community persona.”
Avigdor Amiel (Israel, late 1800s – early 1900s), Ethics and Legality in Jewish Law: “In order to enforce order, there must be some denial of the individual’s rights in society, or sacrifice of the private to the public good. No government or political order in the world can always benefit every individual. Every form of government must strive for the public good, and if the individual must occasionally suffer, there is no great harm done. But the Jewish national character cannot bear this, for Jewish ethics preaches the absolute freedom of the individual, which cannot be abrogated on behalf of society.”

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

Do you know anyone who embodies the ideal of contributing to Klal Yisrael?
Do you agree with Rav Kook’s analysis that the individual Jew finds his highest calling in contributing to the collective? What sense do you get from reading the Torah? What are some ramifications of this view?
Could Rav Kook’s analysis explain why the Torah has a problem with census taking?
In many of his recorded shiurim, [4] Moshe Taragin (a contemporary Ram at Yeshivat Har Etzion) has stated that the religious life of Jews in Chutz l’Aretz has a clear individualist bent. He argues that Jews in modern Israel live with a clearer sense of collective identity, as a result of (i) the shared sense of enterprise in building a country and (ii) the fact that in Israel, Jews are not a minority and Torah is part of public discourse. Do you agree?
What do you have to contribute to Klal Yisrael?
While most of the half-shekalim were used to make the sockets that held the Mishkan together, a small number were used to make hooks (lit. ווים) that held up the curtains around the courtyard. How might that express the value of peace and collective unity?

[1] Rav Kook cites the midrash (Sifrei, V’zot haBeracha) on the verse “And He became a King in Yeshurun, when the leaders were gathered together, the tribes of Israel.” The midrash understands that the verse is presenting a cause-and-effect relationship. I.e. God is King in Yeshurun (i.e. Israel) when the people are unified.

[2] Shemot 30:15.

[3] It is my unscientific impression that contemporary sermons/divrei Torah about the Mishkan tend to emphasize the individualist aspect of Torah. Rav Kook is giving us a different perspective.

[4] Available on YUtorah.org

A Sacred Flame – Parshat Vayakhel

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Printable PDF available here.

Translation (Ein Ayah, Shabbat 20a):

In Shemot 35:3, the Torah states “Do not kindle fire in any of your dwelling places on Shabbat.” The implication is that kindling is only prohibited in one’s personal dwelling. But in the Temple, it is permittedto burn offerings on Shabbat. (Gem. Shabbat 20a)

The verse and this teaching of our Sages present two difficulties;

We know that the prohibition of creative labor (lit. melacha) on Shabbat encompasses 39 different categories of activity. Why is lighting fire is the only category explicitly mentioned in the Torah?
Outside of the Temple, the sanctity of Shabbat demands a total cessation of Why is there a lower standard within the Temple? Wouldn’t we have expected the opposite? And why is there a special dispensation for lighting fire, as opposed to other melachot?

A deeper understanding of fire can resolve both of these questions. Fire epitomizes human creativity and control over nature. Granted, human initiative is involved with all melachot,but fire is unique. Other melachot– such as plowing, building, and dyeing – involve no more than tweaking and reshaping existing physical forms. In contrast, the process of combustion brings forth heat and light, and is truly a dynamic and transformative process.[1]

Now, the restrictions against working on Shabbat are meant to reinforce the notion that God is Creator of the world. Thus, one might have concluded – and not unreasonably – that only the pristine and natural world (lit. teva), uncorrupted by human endeavor, is God’s handiwork. Perhaps human creativity and technology are at best spiritually irrelevant, and at worst aberrations that are foreign to the true purpose of God’s creation. If this were the case, it should be permitted to kindle fire on Shabbat, inasmuch as kindling represents human innovation applied to transform the natural order, as opposed to working within it.

To disabuse us of this misconception, the Torah expressly singles out lighting fire as a prohibited melacha.[2]We thus learn that human creativity is a fundamental part of God’s creation and His design of the universe. After all, the intellectual capacities used by man to transform the natural world were granted by God Himself![3]It follows that our ingenuity in reshaping the natural world contributes to the goal of creation, in accordance with God’s supernal wisdom.

A person must therefore be conscious of his tremendous power to change and improve the physical world. However, this power will only bring blessing to the world if it is utilized under the auspices of righteousness and Godly integrity. The Temple is the ultimate location from which such enlightenment can be drawn. The Temple was the focal point of Divine revelation and the source of spiritual guidance for both the individual and the collective. It follows that extending the prohibition against kindling to the Temple would be self-defeating and would short-circuit the spiritual value of human creativity. It would give man the notion that he should adopt a passive stance toward the world, and cast the burden of improving his welfare on God alone.

Thus, the dispensation for kindling fire in the Temple helps us internalize the holiness of our God-given power to develop the physical world. The Divine morality that flows outward from the Temple teaches us to use our ingenuity in a spirit of righteousness, to reshape the world and the society we construct within it with a new heart and a holy spirit.

Commentary

Rav Kook gives forceful expression to the spiritual value of human innovation and technological advancement. These capacities are part of God’s creation, and their unfolding contributes to the Divine plan for humanity. Rav Kook resoundingly rejects the position that all efforts to improve human welfare are futile, either because our fate is completely in the hands of God, or because creativity is only valued in the realm of Torah learning/the beit midrash.[4]

As far as I am aware, Rav Soloveitchik is the only other major rabbinic figure who grants spiritual dignity to man’s efforts to transform the physical world. The Rav argues that human creativity is a channel by which man expresses his Divine image (lit. tzelem elokim), inasmuch as God is the Creator par excellence. As he writes, “The spiritual message behind the story of Creation is that man too must be creative. Man must conquer disease, control rivers, and alleviate misery… A moral principle follows from this article of faith [that God created the world ex-nihilo]: the Creation narrative challenges man to create.”[5]

I think that Rav Kook can offer us another valuable insight about fire, specifically the havdalah fire that we kindle right after Shabbat concludes. Our Sages taught[6]that Adam was cast out of Gan Eden after Shabbat and became terrified by the onset of darkness. God taught him the skill of kindling fire by striking together two flint-stones, and enabled him to banish the gloom. This tradition takes on new meaning in light of Rav Kook’s teaching. As we prepare to re-enter the work week, we acknowledge the spiritual potential and dignity of melacha by blessing God as the creator of flame.

Contrast this tradition of our Sages with the Greek myth of Prometheus.[7]To quote Rabbi Jonathan Sacks,[8]“to the Greeks, the gods were essentially hostile to mankind. Zeus wanted to keep the art of making fire secret, but Prometheus stole a spark and taught men how to make it. Once the theft was discovered, Zeus punished him by having him chained to a rock… [and tortured for eternity]. Against this background can we see the revolutionary character of Jewish faith. We believe that G-d wants human beings to exercise power: responsibly, creatively, and within limits set by the integrity of nature. The rabbinic account of how G-d taught Adam and Eve the secret of making fire is the precise opposite of the story of Prometheus. G-d seeks to confer dignity on the beings He made in His image as an act of love. He does not hide the secrets of the universe from us. He does not seek to keep mankind in a state of ignorance or dependence. The creative G-d empowers us to be creative and begins by teaching us how. He wants us to be guardians of the world He has entrusted to our care.”

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

Rav Kook does not get into details on how exactly human innovation and technology furthers God’s purposes. What do you think he has in mind?
Is there any particular technology that you think illustrates the spiritual dignity of man’s creative abilities? (Note – technology is any application of human ingenuity to address a problem. It’s not limited to something you purchase at Best Buy.)
Do you think the Orthodox community or educational system does a good job of encouraging creativity? If not, how could we improve?
Would Rav Kook agree that some technologies that are intrinsically detrimental to human welfare, or would he claim that everything has spiritual potential?
Some would argue that technology has become a form of idolatry. One author, in a recent book[9]about the dangers of social media, claims that we live in a ‘technopoly,’ which he defines as “the deification of technology, which means that the culture seeks its authorization in technology, finds its satisfactions in technology, and takes its orders from technology.” This ideological domination demands a sacrifice of all previously stable belief systems. So trust in institutions, ancient or modern, erodes. Any order, system, or tradition is deemed suspicious or ripe for “disruption” simply because of its date of origin, as if durability were a sign of weakness instead of strength. Local identities and traditions are rendered valueless except as raw material for remixes, parody, tourism, tapestries, and games rather than expressions of deep human narratives and connections. Learning becomes a matter of searching, copying, and pasting rather than immersing, considering, and deliberating. Meditation becomes a hobby, a holiday for those privileged enough to purchase the time, rather than a practice that connects one with a spirit or purpose…. Everyone is quantified. Everyone is exposed. Everyone is on guard. Everyone is exhausted.” What are your thoughts on whether the society we live in has a healthy relationship with technology? Whether you have a healthy relationship with technology?

[1]Consider also that fire (i) is a source of illumination that allows mankind to transcend the limitations imposed by the darkness of night and (ii) was the fundamental technology that enabled primitive mankind to forge metal and develop tools.

[2]In other words, it is taken from granted that the other 38 melachot are prohibited. The Torah comes to tell us that even kindling is a prohibited melachaas well.

[3]In the Hebrew, Rav Kook alludes to the words of Isaiah (26:12) – כי גם כל מעשינו פעלת לנו.

[4]This was not merely a matter of theory in Rav Kook’s generation (or in ours, for that matter). Many European Jews abandoned Torah observance because they perceived an unhealthy willingness and a total disinterest of observant Jews in making any efforts to shape their own destiny.

[5] Reflections of the Rav, cited in the Mesoras haRav Chumash (Bereishit 1:2). An excellent English article about the Rav’s teachings on creativity is available here.

[6]Gemara Pesachim 54a.

[7]Many other cultures also have a myth that involves the theft of fire from the heavens by a terrestrial hero.

[8]http://rabbisacks.org/light-make-shemini-5777

[9]Antisocial Media, pg. 19.