Rustling Leaves – Parshat Bechukotai

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“And those of you who survive, I will bring fear in their hearts in the lands of their enemies, and the sound of a rustling leaf will pursue them. They will flee as one flees the sword, and they will fall, but there will be no pursuer.” (Vayikra 26:36)

Ma’amarei haRe’iah (Pg. 504)

The most terrible curse of the Exile is the weak-heartedness described in this verse, which affects not just the physical affairs of the Jewish people but its spirit as well. The fear of the slightest ‘copper button’ [on the uniforms of non-Jewish officials and soldiers] gave rise to sickly neshamot, afflicted, broken and unable to receive the light and vibrant lifeforce of the future redemption. An incessant sense of fear degraded the spirit of the Jewish People, leaving us deprived us the vitality needed for our national rebirth in the Land of the Avot.

The arbitrary cruelty of our non-Jewish overseers habituated us to a sense of lowliness, to accepting the way things were as the way they had to be. This sense of resignation borders of blasphemy.[1]As a result of the weak-heartedness of Exile, many Jews regard it as strange and un-Jewish that there be a Jewish police force [or a Jewish army]. ‘Those matters are for non-Jews to attend to!’ they proclaim. And thus we continue our exilic mentality that for rescue or general well-being we must turn to non-Jews, but never to ourselves.

The same sense of dependency applies to the spiritual realm as well. We lack confidence in our spiritual heritage, in our wealth of Torah literature. We know that we possess law, aggadah, ma’aseh bereishit and ma’aseh merkavah [i.e. mysticism], ethics, logic and Jewish philosophy, but we think that these deal only with timeless and eternal matters, not the pressing issues of the day. As soon as one tries to apply the Torah to such issues, he is dismissed by those of false piety as a planter of kilayim and polluter of the Jewish spirit. All such notions are bitter fruits of the Exile and its spiritual impurity. The Jewish People have carried this poison since we were exiled from the Holy Land and ceased to live a full, vibrant life in our own land….

This does not mean to idealize excision and isolation from contact with the outside world. On the contrary, Judaism welcomes insights and sparks of wisdom from other cultures – but only if they can (i) be integrated into the Torah’s higher architecture of Divine truth, and (ii) bear the unique imprint of Am Yisrael…

The time has come for the Jewish people to take heed of worldly reality, to expand our boundaries. We are neither able nor permitted to remain as we have in Exile, totally reliant on the goodwill of non-Jewish potentates for political security and totally dependent on non-Jewish wisdom for solutions to practical issues of the day. Not in Eretz Yisrael. Here, we are free to shape our communal affairs and our collective spiritual consciousness, and we must attend to them diligently. Here, the Jewish People returns to full, holy engagement with life.

Food for Thought

Prof. Aviezer Ravitzky – Hadash Min ha-Torah? (Engaging Modernity pg. 47-49): “The traditionalist ideologist criticizes his modernist counterpart for ambivalent, hyphenated approaches… According to him, all of these approaches, by virtue of their synthetic nature, upset the wholeness of Torah and its unity. A whole Torah does not require completion; it is sufficient unto itself. All of the above “additions” to the pure Torah… necessarily lead to an amputation of the full, complete… The Torah is required, as it were, to contract itself and to leave room for other values alongside itself. Similarly, these combinations would inevitably create a divided and split religious personality, torn between different sources, values, and authorities.

Secondly, the traditionalist critic argues, this dualistic approach, just as. it truncates the wholeness of the Torah source, also affects its inner purity. In order to foster a mixture of two disparate elements, in order to bring about any synthesis or integration, one must bring about an organic change in the nature of each of the original components: “Torah” combined with “labor” is no longer the same pure Torah. A yeshiva that is combined with a university or with military service is no longer a “sacred yeshiva.” The holy realm, in order to be united with the secular, must lose its own inner integrity…

[There is, however] a very different concept of wholeness… From its point of view, a whole Torah is not one that ab initio includes everything, but one which touches upon everything or can be applied towards anything. It does not exist as an abstract norm, dwelling in the bosom of the eternal alone, but as a dynamic demand, realizing its power and manifesting its vitality precisely in face of transformations. within historical time. If the world expands and widens, if man builds and destroys, and yet only the Torah contracts and is sufficient unto itself, it is not preserved, but rather withdraws and shrinks.

According to this model, the Torah is not understood as a pure idea… such that every organic relation affects its inner integrity. On the contrary, by its very nature the Torah is constantly engaged in relations of inclusion and enrichment. Indeed, for many modern religious thinkers, there exist truth and goodness and beauty which do not come into contact with the Torah, then the Torah would be displaced from its primacy. The same holds true with regard to the religious personality. In the present condition, where new realities surround man in all dimensions of life, choosing spiritual and intellectual isolation would require him to devote most of his energy to sealing off all openings. It would demand that he know less and less about human creatures and nature, about science and art, and it would thereby stifle many channels of creativity. Lacking such isolation, the preservation of a one dimension man who is never threatened by the external and novel would not be assured. Even here, therefore, preservation requires contraction and truncation, rather than wholeness and completion…”

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch, The Nineteen Letters: “[The Jewish People] was to be a people in the midst of the people; as people it was to show the [other] people that God is the Source, and the Giver, of all blessing that to dedicate oneself to the fulfillment of His will means the attainment of all happiness that man can desire; that this sacred resolve is sufficient to give stability and security to human existence. It received, therefore, the blessings of a land and state power, not, however, as end, but as means of carrying out the Torah, its possession and retention dependent, therefore, upon fulfillment thereof as [the] only condition…There came the time when… [i]t became necessary to take away the abundance of earthly good, the wealth and the land, which had led it away from its mission; it was obliged to leave the happy soil which had seduced it from its allegiance to the Most High; nothing could be saved except the soul of its existence, the Torah; no other bond of unity should henceforth exist except “God and its mission,” which are indestructible, because they are spiritual. Through the annihilation of Israel’s state-life its mission did not cease, for that had been intended only as a means to an end. On the contrary, this destruction itself was part of its fate; so strangely commingled of divine and human elements, in exile and dispersion its mission was to be resumed in a different manner…The nation was scattered into the four quarters of the earth, unto all peoples and all zones, in order that in the dispersion it might better fulfill its mission.”

Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, Days of Deliverance (pg. 135-137): “Political inferiority does not go hand-in-hand with spiritual inferiority and submissiveness. The best example of this sort of paradoxical bravery is the bravery of the traditional Jew… For centuries, Jews lodged during a long, dark Diaspora night in all sorts of ghettos, unprotected, helpless, without rights, abandoned, despised and alone… But when Esau wanted a gift of Jacob’s sacred objects – the holiness of family life, the Sabbath, kashrut, accepted beliefs and traditions – or when Esav demanded that Jacob compromise his Torah and his way of living – then a remarkable transformation occurred within Jacob. Suddenly the coward, the quiet and unassuming Jew, became a hero, full of strength and stubbornness. Suddenly the crooked back straightened, the pitiful eyes began to spit fire, and he, the coward, refused Esav’s request with chutzpah and determination… And when Esav persisted and demanded things that were sacred, then the passive man, the coward, the man who said three times a day ‘And to such as curse me let my soul be dumb, and let my soul be unto all as the dust,’ became a fighter who resisted Esav with great stubbornness.”

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

What can you do to make the Torah more relevant to your practical, day-to-day concerns, instead of something that only deals with abstract matters of the spirit?
From Rav Kook, it sounds like Exile has been entirely bad for the Jewish people. Do you agree? If so, what are positive things that the Jewish people have attained or accomplished by virtue of being in Exile? (See Rav Soloveitchik and Rav Hirsch above for some possibilities.)
Rav Kook writes that the Exile caused the Jewish people to see their spiritual heritage as irrelevant to worldly, practical matters. Do you think he’s talking about people who are Torah observant or those who have abandoned Orthodoxy for other belief systems? Or both?
Read the excerpt above from Professor Aviezer Ravitzky. Professor Ravitsky is a leading scholar of Rav Kook, but the passage above is not intended as a commentary on Rav Kook’s weltanschauung. Do you think Rav Kook would agree with it? If not, why?
What can you do to contribute to the revival of Jewish life and vitality and the Land of Israel?

[1] Rav Kook makes reference to the Talmud in Bava Kamma (38a), which recounts that Babylonians used to console mourners by asking (rhetorically) “What can possibly be done?” The Talmud describes this as blasphemous, presumably because it seems to question G-d’s judgment. Rav Kook is taking a more provocative interpretation (perhaps only as an allusion) – passivity and resignation is itself blasphemous, and such is the attitude of the “Babylonians,” i.e. those outside of Eretz Yisrael.

To Put Away Childish Things – Parshat Behar

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You shall not make idols for yourselves, nor shall you set up a statue (lit. פסל) or a monument for yourselves… (Vayikra 26:1)

Shemonah Kevatzim (Vol. 1, Pg. 179)

On a simple level, this verse prohibits forming a physical representation of the Divine. The truth is that this prohibition represents a much broader category, against whose poisonous influence we must be exceedingly vigilant. The danger of a פסל, a physical idol, is that it repudiates G-d’s transcendent and infinite nature. By definition, an idol is a counterfeit, an impossible attempt to ensnare the Infinite within the frail and limited capacity of the human imagination.

And yet humanity can engage in this same delusion without creating any physical idols. An immature and limited conception of G-d [1] is just as much of a פסל. When a shallow conception of G-d takes hold ahold among humanity, by virtue of habit and an undeveloped manner of thinking, and humanity later advances to a higher stage of consciousness, tremendous anguish results. The consequence is kefirah, denial – not of G-d, whose true essence is unknowable and who, a priori, can never be defined, but of the pre-conceived and immature notions of G-d which have polluted humanity.

The purpose of kefirah’s existence is to uproot the shallow and limited conceptions of Divinity from life and thought. He who recognizes the root of disbelief will extract its honey and return it to the source of its holiness. Gazing upon it, he beholds not unrequited evil, but the majesty of the terrible ice – the heavenly kefirah (lit. כפור שמים, a provocative allusion to Iyov 38:29, where the phrase literally means “heavenly frost”).

Commentary

Rav Kook’s provocative thesis is that a non-believer can never really reject G-d, since by definition a created human mind can neither define nor accurately perceive G-d’s essence. The most a non-believer can do is to deny a form of G-d which he has developed in his own mind. After all, in order to negate a concept, one must first delineate that which he denies, prior to declaring that it does not exist. And once a person paints a static picture of G-d, it is that static (and therefore shallow) picture that he rejects and refuses to accept.[2]

Rav Kook thus assigns metaphysical (or metahistorical) value to kefirah, whose ultimate purpose is to purify humanity from immature conceptions of G-d. A sensitive soul can “extract the honey” from disbelief and “return it to the source of its holiness.”

But do we still have a theory that allows us to see a value in atheism? Professor Alan Brill[3]claims that Rav Kook was happy to see late nineteenth century atheism wake up the Jewish world and spur the masses to a more purified and refined conception of G-d. But what about the ‘new atheists’ of the twenty-first century, “whose methodology consists in criticizing religion without understanding it, quoting texts without contexts, taking exceptions as the rule, confusing folk belief with reflective theology, abusing, mocking, ridiculing, caricaturing and demonizing religious faith and holding it responsible for the great crimes against humanity.”[4]In Professor Brill’s world “Rav Kook assumes that there would be an advancement in perception[5]….He did not assume that they would remain un-evolved.” What about the people who smashed their idols and simply walked away?

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

Rav Kook does not explain why humanity fell into an immature and limited conception of G-d in the first place. What do you think he has in mind? Could it have anything to do with Christianity?
In last week’s parshah, we learned that someone who blasphemes G-d is subject to the death penalty. How do we understand this in light of Rav Kook’s analysis? Shouldn’t we say that it’s impossible to blaspheme G-d, and the most one can do is curse one’s limited conception of G-d?
What kind of person is qualified to “extract the honey” from disbelief and “return it to the source of its holiness”? What kind of dangers are involved?
The Torah is full of descriptions of G-d speaking, acting and (apparently) expressing emotion. How do we reconcile that with the idea that G-d is transcendent and unknowable?[6]
Are you convinced by Rav Kook’s analysis of where kefira comes from? Why or why not?

[1]Lit. קבוצה בצורה מיוחדת וידועה

[2]Based on https://www.etzion.org.il/en/kefira-our-day.

[3]https://kavvanah.wordpress.com/2011/12/17/hitchens-atheism-and-rav-kook

[4]The Great Partnership (pg. 11), Rabbi Jonathan Sacks.

[5]Rav Kook writes elsewhere that “Disbelief must come out in the form of civilization to uproot the memory of G-d and all the institutions of divine worship … and upon the desolate ruins wrought by disbelief, will the exalted G-d-knowledge build its palace.”

[6]See the end of the first chapter of Rambam’s Yesodei haTorah – “[A]ll such [descriptions] and the like which are related in the Torah and the words of the Prophets – all these are metaphors and imagery. [For example,] “He who sits in the heavens shall laugh” [Psalms 2:4], “They angered Me with their emptiness” [Deuteronomy 32:21], and “As G-d rejoiced” [ibid. 28:63]. With regard to all such statements, our Sages said: “The Torah speaks in the language of man.” This is [borne out by the rhetorical question (Jeremiah 7:19):] “Are they enraging Me?” Behold, [Malachi 3:6] states: “I, G-d, have not changed.” Now were He to at times be enraged and at times be happy, He would change. Rather, all these matters are found only with regard to the dark and low bodies, those who dwell in houses of clay, whose foundation is dust. In contrast, He, blessed be He, is elevated and exalted above all this.”

Love of Life and the Illusion of Death – Parshat Emor

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“And the Lord said to Moses: Speak to the Kohanim, the sons of Aaron, and say to them: Let none [of you] defile himself for a dead person among his people.” (Vayikra 21:1)

“Any animal [whose reproductive organs] were squashed, crushed, pulled out, or severed, you shall not offer up to the Lord, and in your land, you shall not do it [to castrate any livestock or wild animal, even of an unclean species – Rashi]. (Vayikra 22:24)

Translation (Pinkasei haRei’ah, Vol. 5 pg. 192)

The Kohanim are not merely functionaries in the Temple, but spiritual leaders of the Jewish people, whose influence and spirit models the Torah’s ethical ideals. This is why G-d forbade Kohanim to come into contact with death. This prohibition keeps death away from their consciousness, so that it does not become affected by death and polluted with even the slightest hatred for life. This way, the Kohanim ensure that Torah morality is infused with love of life, which is the purest and most wholesome of man’s natural desires.

Any ethical notion that expresses a hatred or contempt of life is impure and unsustainable. Its only function is as a bitter medicine, which one must take occasionally to prevent a worse sickness from spreading. Other than that, it has no established place in Torah values. The true foundation of Torah morality is love of life.[1]That is because the fullest life is one that is permeated with love for kindness and good, and lived in the light of G-d’s presence.

Translation (Ein Ayah,Shabbat 67b)

Wicked people inflict tremendous destruction upon the world. On the surface, it seems like their destruction is motivated by a vigorous longing to impose their will, and to satisfy the desires of their tempestuous spirit. The truth is that their devastation comes from a deep-rooted hatred of life. And this hatred is a projection of their own spiritual emptiness. In their hearts, the wicked know that they deserve destruction and not life. And so, looking at existence with the same jaundiced perspective that they view themselves, they conclude that the world also deserves to be destroyed.

For this reason, we find that castration of animals was a prominent practice in the pagan world.[2]

Translation (Orot ha’kodesh, 2:280)

Death is an illusion, and its impurity derives from its falsehood. What people lament to as “death” – i.e. passing to the Next World – is really an intensification and amplification of life. Only because of a profoundly shallow perspective, in which the inclinations of man’s heart ensnare him, do we conceive of this passage as a sad and dark matter called “death.”

The sanctity of the Kohanim demands that they transcend the illusion of death and proclaim its falsehood. However, in an imperfect world, the Kohanim cannot abide by this higher truth in the face of a formerly healthy and vibrant body that now lays cold and lifeless. To maintain their higher truth and prevent their spiritual consciousness from being deluded, the Kohanim avert their eyes from the slightest encounter with death.

Commentary and Food For Thought

Rav Kook’s explanation for the prohibition of Kohanim becoming טמא למת is very similar to that given by Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch, in his Commentary to the Torah (Vayikra 21:1): Antique and modem heathenism like so very much to associate religion and religious matters with death and thoughts of death. For them it is where Man ends that the Kingdom of God begins. For them death and dying are the real manifestations of their godhead, who to them is a god of death and not of life. A god who kills and does not animate, and sends death and its fore-runners, illness and wretchedness, so that men should fear him, realize his power and their impotence. The places which they dedicate to temples are therefore round about graves,[3]the foremost place of their priest is therefore at the dead and dying.[4]There, where the light is fading from the eye, and hearts are broken, is the most fruitful field for their religious sowing.

Not so is the Jewish priest because not so is the Jewish teaching of God, the Jewish religion. The God, Whose Name assigns the Jewish priest to his office is a God of life. His sublimest manifestation is the elevating power of Life, freeing, animating, raising Man to free will and to eternal life, not the crushing power of death. Not how one is to die, but how one is to live, how, living, one has victoriously to conquer death, death in life, thralldom, enslaved by one’s physical urges, moral weakness, how one has to live every second of a morally free, thinking, desiring, working and accomplishing life, and also enjoying all the pleasures of life as a moment of service to God, that is the teaching to which God has dedicated His Sanctuary, and for the service of which He has consecrated the Kohanim to care for the “basis of life and direction thereof.”

When Death summons the people to come to busy themselves in acts of love with the empty body of a נפש which God has called home, the Kohanim have to remain away, and by standing away to keep aloft the Standard of Life next to the corpse, and by the thoughts of what life really is, prevent the thoughts of death overpowering the truths that the real Man himself is morally free and not subject to forces which kill his power over his own moral free will. Only where the duties of life call on the priest personally to fulfil the last possible acts of love to the empty shell of the נפש of his wife, child, parent, brother or sister, or where the forsaken state of a corpse makes him to a father and brother of the forsaken one, there his calling as a priest has to retire behind the calling of family and humanity, and his activity with the dead is not only permitted but is a duty. Otherwise priests have to keep away from dead bodies.

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

How can we reconcile Rav Kook’s comments in Sources 1 and 2 above with his comments in Source 3? If Torah morality is rooted in love of life, how can he claim that death is an illusion and really shouldn’t sadden us?[5]
Rav Kook writes that the only place for hatred of life is “as a bitter medicine, which one must take occasionally to prevent a worse sickness from spreading.” What do you think he means? What kind of ‘sickness’ does he have in mind?
How do you think Rav Kook would account for the suspension of the איסור טומאה for a Kohen when it comes to close relatives? What does Rav Hirsch say?
Rav Kook writes that love of life is the cornerstone of Torah morality. What in Torah law or hashkafa can you think of that expresses this value?
How is Rav Kook’s explanation for the prohibition of טומאת מת similar to Rav Hirsch. How is it different?
What can you do to cultivate a greater appreciation of life?
Are you convinced by Rav Kook’s analysis of why wickedness people have destructive urges? Why or why not?

[1]Rav Kook notes that even Moshe Rabbeinu, arguably the most elite spiritual personality of the entire Torah, beseeched G-d to extend his life.

[2]As support, Rav Kook brings a statement in the gemara (Shabbat 67b) that smashing eggs against a wall is prohibited as דרכי האמורי, i.e. pagan superstition. It is not clear whether Rav Kook is drawing on other sources that may indicate a connection between paganism and castration.

[3]In Europe, beginning in the Middle Ages, cemeteries were generally constructed around churches.

[4]Rav Hirsch appears to be referring to the Christian practice of a priest administering last rites.

[5]I think it’s a question of what perspective you adopt, and I think that Chazal themselves were sensitive to this question. See the third chapter of Pirkei Avot– “A single moment of repentance and good deeds in this world is greater than all of the World to Come. And a single moment of bliss in the World to Come is greater than all of the present world.”

Nature, Human and Otherwise – Parshat Kedoshim

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“You shall observe My statutes: You shall not crossbreed your livestock with different species (lit כלאים). You shall not sow your field with a mixture of seeds, and a garment which has a mixture of sha’atnez shall not come upon you.” (Vayikra 19:9)

Translation (Otzrot haRe’iah, Vol. 2 pg. 165)

It is common to classify human activities and worldly affairs into two categories – natural and artificial. The natural order is laudable and worthy of preservation. Great destruction results when human artifice encroaches on the domain of the natural. It is not surprising that according to contemporary medicine, many illnesses result when people distance themselves from a natural, healthy manner of living.

One might ask – doesn’t Judaism teach that Hashem created the world “to do” (lit. לעשות),z[1] to develop and attain greater perfection? Jews do not embrace an attitude of quietism and indifference to human welfare, nor acquiesce to disease and suffering! The answer is as follows. G-d has charged us with improving the natural world that is His handiwork, and our ability to do so is itself a Divine gift, one that G-d has created as part of the natural order. But the natural order must still be given its due, and allowed to operate in its rightful domain, without being destroyed or artificially restrained.

For this reason, the Torah limits our ability to transform the natural world by the prohibitions of kilayim, or forbidden mixtures. This encompasses the prohibitions against shatnez and also cross-breeding different species of animals or plants. These laws are intended to inculcate a certain level of respect and regard for the natural order.

The natural order encompasses not just the physical world, but also one’s inner world. It follows that the laws of kilayim have profound ethical implications. Part of human nature is an inborn aptitude for supernal goodness and righteousness, for love and fear of G-d and the supreme pleasure of Divine closeness. We are prevented from tapping into our holy nature by an inner clamor of foolishness that we allow to enter our hearts (lit. המון הבלים שמכניס בלבו), but once these foreign voices are silenced, our inner holiness will emerge. This is indeed the highest level of holiness – that a person not despoil his inner, natural goodness.

Commentary and Food For Thought

A. Rav Kook did not innovate the idea that kilyaim is rooted in a certain regard for the natural order. It already appears in the Ramban, [2] who writes that “G-d created his world in a state of completeness (lit. שלימות). Someone who brings forth new species by cross-breeding or grafting is effectively declaring that G-d did not do a good enough job, that His handiwork is incomplete.” Maharal [3] takes issue with the Ramban, noting that according to many Midrashim, G-d indeed did leave his handiwork ‘unfinished’ for humanity to improve upon. One of the sources he quotes is the following well-known midrash: Once the evil [Roman governor] Turnus Rufus asked Rabbi Akiva, ‘Whose deeds are greater – God’s or man’s?’ He replied, ‘Man’s deeds are greater.’… [Turnus Rufus] then asked, ‘Why do you circumcise yourselves?’ Rabbi Akiva replied, ‘I knew that that was the point of your question, and therefore I answered in the first place that man’s deeds are greater than God’s.’ Rabbi Akiva brought him grains of wheat and some bread, and said: ‘These grains of wheat are God’s handiwork, and the bread is the handiwork of man. Is the latter not greater than the former?’

Rav Kook seems to address Maharal’s difficulty head-on. He posits that human creativity is allowed, but there are some boundaries within which nature must be given its due. Could there be another solution to Maharal’s question? R. Dr. Abraham [4] suggests that Ramban would allow using, modifying, and improving pre-existing forms and entities. Creative activity is only forbidden when one fails to respect distinctions between pre-existing forms. For example, using and selectively breeding horses and donkeys for manual labor is allowed, but we may never breed them to make a mule.

B. Rav Kook writes that our inner holiness becomes covered up by a “clamor of foolishness that we allow to enter our hearts.” The idea of Jews [5] possessing an inner goodness is heavily rooted in Kabbalistic and Chasidic sources (i.e. the ‘pintele Yid’). Contrast this with the approach popular among certain schools of the Mussar movement, which cast religious life as a constant struggle and the body as the ‘prison of the soul.’ Physical desires are to be suppressed and feared, and worldly affairs are either an illusion or indulged as a necessary evil. Only in matters of the soul does man realize his or her true self, and even then, only by constant struggle and self-denial.

Rabbi Yuval Cherlow, a contemporary rabbi in the Israeli religionist Zionist community, believes that this viewpoint is growing in popularity and is entirely foreign to the Torah’s true spirit. In his words, “Orthodox Judaism is slowly abandoning the Torah’s unique view of the image of G-d in Man. In its place, an ever more dominant religious view encourages Man to see himself as “a worm and not a man”… The responsibility which Man should shoulder gives way to self-negation and self-annihilation… The religious world is inching closer and close to something akin to Puritanism, constantly fighting against the aesthetic aspects of reality. It is slowly adopting worldviews which originated in the schools of through of the extreme Mussar movements, and denying itself.” [6]

C. Aside from Rav Kook, Rav Soloveitchik is one of the few modern Jewish thinkers who assigns spiritual value to man’s efforts to improve the natural world. Two representative passages:

“As long as we were exposed to such a soulless, impersonal confrontation on the part of non-Jewish society [in exile and before Emancipation], it was impossible for us to participate to the fullest extent in the great universal creative confrontation between man and the cosmic order. The limited role we played until modern times in the great cosmic confrontation was not of our choosing. Heaven knows that we never encouraged the cruel relationship which the world displayed toward us. We have always considered ourselves an inseparable part of humanity and we were ever ready to accept the divine challenge, מלאו את הארץ וכבשוה, “Fill the earth and subdue it,” [7] and the responsibility implicit in human existence. We have never proclaimed the philosophy of contemptus [contempt of the world] or odium seculi [scorn of the secular]. We have steadily maintained that involvement in the creative scheme of things is mandatory.” (Confrontation, Tradition 6:2)
“Dignity of man… cannot be realized as long as he has not gained mastery over his environment. For life in bondage to insensate elemental forces is a non-responsible and hence an undignified affair. Men of old who could not fight disease and succumbed in multitudes to yellow fever or any other plague with degrading helplessness could not lay claim to dignity. Only the man who builds hospitals, discovers therapeutic techniques, and saves lives is blessed with dignity . . . The brute is helpless, and therefore not dignified. Civilized man has gained limited control of nature and has become in certain respects her master, and with his mastery he has attained dignity as well. His mastery has made it possible for him to act in accordance with his responsibility.” (Lonely Man of Faith, pg. 16-17)

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

Rav Kook writes that nature (both human and otherwise) deserves a certain level of respect. How well do you think modern science/technology lives up to that expectation?
How is Rav Kook’s explanation of kilayim similar to the Ramban? How is it different?
Rav Kook writes that we are “prevented from tapping into our holy nature by an inner clamor of foolishness that we allow to enter our hearts.” How do we silence those impediments? What gets in the way of our ability to do so?
As noted above, some approaches to avodat Hashem emphasize self-denial and adopt a negative attitude towards man’s natural, physical inclinations. Rav Kook disagrees and argues that man possesses an innate, inner holiness. What are some practical differences in terms of how these approaches play out?
How is Rav Kook’s approach to the spiritual value of human creativity different from that of Rav Soloveitchik?
Is one of these two approaches necessarily right or wrong? Could each be true for different people? For different generations?
When was the last time you felt a natural, inborn desire for or connection with G-d?

[1] Rav Kook is quoting Bereishit 2:3, which we recite before Shabbat Kiddush – ויברך אֱלֹקים֙ אֶת־י֣וֹם הַשְּׁבִיעִ֔י וַיְקַדֵּ֖שׁ אֹת֑וֹ כִּ֣י ב֤וֹ שָׁבַת֙ מִכָּל־מְלַאכְתּ֔וֹ אֲשֶׁר־בָּרָ֥א אֱלֹקים לַֽעֲשֽׂוֹת. The word לעשות at the end seems superfluous, and some understand that the subject is G-d himself – “And G-d blessed the seventh day and He hallowed it, for thereon He abstained from all His work [that God] created [for Himself] to do.” This is understandably an awkward translation. Rav Kook is following a tradition that the subject of לעשות is creation itself – i.e., the universe itself (and especially humankind) is meant to develop and evolve (לעשות) into higher levels of spiritual and material perfection.

[2] Vayikra, 19:19. “Rabbeinu Bachya, Rashbam, Ibn Ezra, Ramban, Seforno, and Sefer HaChinuch all offer the same explanation for the kilayim prohibitions (albeit with some nuanced distinctions), namely that mixing plants or animals constitutes inappropriately tampering with God’s creation.” Ariel Caplan, Genetic Engineering in Halacha – Part 3, (Kol Torah Journal, Vol. 19)

[3] Gur Aryeh, Vayikra 19:19

[4] Nishmat Avraham (Hebrew, 2007), Vol. 4, pg. 184.

[5] Or perhaps all of humanity. But this is a big topic, ועוד חזון למועד.

[6] In His Image (Maggid, 2015), pg. vii-viii.

[7] Bereishit 1:28.

Nationhood and Universal Culture – Parshat Acharei Mot

Image result for operation moses

(Ethiopian Jews being airlifted to Israel in 1991, in Operation Solomon)

Printable PDF available here.

Translation (Ein Ayah, Gemara Shabbat 67a):

You shall not copy the practices of the land of Egypt where you dwelt, or of the land of Canaan to which I am taking you; nor shall you follow their ways (וּבְחֻקֹּתֵיהֶ֖ם לֹ֥א תֵלֵֽכוּ). (Vayikra 18:3)

Abaye and Rava taught – the prohibition against following non-Jewish practices does not apply to anything which promotes healing (lit. ‘יש בו משום רפואה’).

The division of humanity into nations is not an arbitrary convention. On the contrary, it reflects deep underlying differences in the lifestyle, customs and manner of thinking of each nation. If we analyze these differences, we can divide them into two categories.

Some result from the unique inclinations and spiritual proclivities of each nation. Every nation embraces a way of living and thinking that is consistent with its spirit. It is not surprising, then, that what one nation finds suited to its nature and aspirations may be entirely repugnant to others. Terrible destruction can result when one nation attempts to integrate aspects of another nation’s identity, or has those aspects imposed on it by force.[1]Thus, it is appropriate that each nation preserve the integrity of its unique character and way of life, and not allow them to become excessively[2]diluted by outside influences.

This is an imperative for all nations, but none more so than Israel. Our national spirit emanates from the holy desire to serve as a receptacle for the Divine light in all of our affairs. This spirit encompasses our perception of G-d and the world, the individual and the collective. The Israelite spirit is broad and all-encompassing in a way that the spirit of other nations is not. And therefore, it is generally the case that practices of other cultures detract from our own lofty national aspirations.

However, not every aspect of a nation’s culture is necessarily rooted in its unique and essential spirit. Often, a nation merits (for whatever reason) to express matters that are relevant to all humanity. Granted, these deeper truths are expressed in a form (or ‘garments’) suited to that particular nation, but they concern matters that transcend national boundaries. These matters belong to the collective heritage of all mankind. A nation can be a custodian of these universal aspects of culture, but never an owner. And these aspects of culture are meant to be shared and adopted by other nations. No nation – not even Israel – needs to be concerned that adopting these practices will dilute or degrade its own unique culture.

It follows that the Jewish people can be greatly enriched by the spiritual and practical treasures gathered by other nations – even from the most morally degenerate nations, whose essence and very existence seem irrevocably opposed to us. The Jewish people are not merely capable of seeking out these matters of universal goodness, but distinctly suited for it. When universal aspects of culture are integrated into Israel, they receive the unique stamp of our holy national character.

Thus, our Sages teach that “Anything which promotes healing is not included in the prohibition against darchei ha-Emori.”

Food For Thought

Rav Dessler writes as follows in Michtav Mei’Eliyahu (Vol. 4): “Any holy influence that is to be found outside of the Land of Israel is channeled through the heavenly power (lit. שר) in charge of each nation.[3]In practical terms, this involves the traits of the particular nation and country where Jews are living. The distinct approach to serving Hashem in a given land also accords with the national characteristic in that place… The Russians have strong emotions; chassidut is the approach to serving Hashem that developed there. The Lithuanians have more subdued feelings and calculating minds; the approach to serving Hashem that developed there is the profound study of Torah and mussar. The Germans are most particular about discipline and order; there, an approach of meticulous preservation of tradition and customs took shape. Every center in the Diaspora harnessed the traits and endowments of the nation among whom they dwelt, for the pursuit of holiness.”[4]

Rabbi Berel Wein (Patterns in Jewish History, Ch. 2) addresses the same two categories as Rav Kook, but in a less mystical vein. He formulates a distinction between ‘acculturation’ (which is acceptable) and ‘assimilation’ (which is not): “Thus, from the beginnings of our becoming a people, the Jews were always affected by the processes of acculturation and assimilation. Acculturation was necessary in order to allow Jewish life to exist and even flourish in an exile dominated by non-Jewish inimical powers. Acculturation occurs regarding dress, language, secular studies, systems and methods of education, food, mannerisms and societal mores. Assimilation however reflects a deep desire to be less Jewish and to blend in completely with the surrounding environment and society. It reflects the willingness to give up Jewish particularism in favor of being a part of the general whole. Assimilation doomed and dooms Jews to eventual demographic extinction. And this is a constant pattern in Jewish history – the struggle against assimilation and disappearance while somehow Judaizing and accepting and dealing with acculturation…. Acculturation is apparently unavoidable since Jews are so small in number compared to the rest of the world’s population. But acculturation need not necessarily lead to assimilation. However, not recognizing that acculturation always occurs and pretending that nothing has changed in Jewish life and society for the past thousands of years leaves us vulnerable to an acculturation that will lead to assimilation.”

Rav Kook’s thoughts on culture are complex, and a positive stance toward ‘national spirit’ is not always present in his writings. He was particularly troubled by the aftermath of the first World War.^[5]In Shemonah Kevatzim (5:267), he writes as follows: “[T]he blood-spilling nations, wanton earthly kings “make the earth shudder” (Isaiah 14:16), “the land cannot be cleansed of the bloodshed within it, but by the blood of him that shed it” (Bamidbar 35:33) and the atonement must come, a general undoing of all the cultured nations of today, with all their lies and deceit, all their evil contamination and serpentine poison. The whole culture reveling in ringing lies must vanish from the world, and in its place, a kingdom of sacred beings arising. The light of Israel will appear to establish a world of new peoples, nations “who will not murmur in vain” (Tehillim 2:1)… The spiritual and practical fabric that in its contemporary form could not stop, with all its beautiful wisdom, the great, great bloodshed, and the destruction of the world in this dreadful way, has shown itself to be putrid at the root… And so all the contemporary cultures will utterly be destroyed, and on their embers will be established a universal edifice in truth and the knowledge of God.”

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

Rav Kook seems to suggest that the Torah prohibition against following un-Jewish practices (lit. חוקות עכו׳ם) is not based on the premise that non-Jewish culture is intrinsically bad or impure. On the contrary, it reflects the notion that every nation – not just the Jewish people – should preserve its unique character and way of life. Are you convinced? Why or why not?
In light of Rav Kook’s insights into nationhood and culture, what do you think he would say about the notion of ‘cultural appropriation’ that is the bête noire of so-called ‘social justice warriors’?
How can we tell whether a practice from another culture is of universal relevance or not?
Can we apply any lessons from Rav Kook to the political crisis over immigration in Europe and the United States? (It would be facile and superficial to say that Rav Kook ‘proves’ one side right or wrong.[6]The question is whether the piece above highlights elements of truth – or untruth – in the debate.)
What are some practices of the surrounding non-Jewish culture that you or your community have adopted?
Rav Kook writes that the Jewish people put a uniquely holy stamp on universal practices adopted from other cultures. What do you think he means by this?
Do you agree with Rav Kook that certain differences in culture reflect deep, intrinsic differences between nations? Why or why not?
Is Rav Kook’s analysis really suitable for the contemporary world, in which culture is mass-produced as a means of making money? Do Lady Gaga, video games and reality TV really reflect a “unique character and way of life” or a “national spirit?”

[1]This last part about culture being imposed by force is my own addition.

[2]Note – Rav Kook is clear that cultural boundaries between nations aren’t meant to be static and impermeable. The problem is not influences of other cultures per se, only in excess.

[3]The notion that each nation has a שרappears frequently in the midrash, but is already mentioned in Perakim 10 and 11 of Daniel.

[4]In light of Rav Dessler and Rav Kook, it seems like kibutz galiyot is more than just a physical process. It represents the Jewish people coalescing and sharing with each other all of the unique tendencies and strengths that they gathered in exile.

[5]WWI created a crisis of confidence in the non-Jewish world as well. Many argue that Western Civilization still has not recovered.

[6]Unfortunately, this type of discourse is quite popular in the Orthodox community. For a discussion of this issue, see Judah Bellin’s 2013 article Tower of Babble: A review of Shmuly Yanklowitz’s ‘Jewish Ethics’. An excerpt: “Judaism certainly impels us to employ our moral sensibilities and to pursue justice. Yanklowitz’s understanding of this mandate, however, is shallow. By presuming to harmonize the Torah’s mission with the Democratic Party’s domestic agenda, Yanklowitz makes a mockery of the rigorous inquiry that sustains the Jewish tradition. Indeed, Judaism survives only if we take it seriously, if we struggle with Jewish texts, not merely quote them blithely. It is our duty to use these sources to rethink our assumptions, not simply to deploy them to confirm our pre-existing prejudices. Judaism has always recognized that the Torah’s blunt moral formulations provide scant guidance for real-world implementation. Our inability to appreciate God’s direct message means that the law cannot reside in heaven, and that it must be subject to the imperfections within the mortals who inherit it. We cannot fully translate divine will into practice, but we continue trying, for it is these strenuous attempts that give life to our ancient tradition. To Yanklowitz we have no such shortcomings. All we need be is radical.” (Note – although this example is a criticism of the left, many on Orthodoxy’s right are also guilty of similarly simplistic and shallow political discourse.)