Fringe Movements – Parshat Shelach

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Ein Ayah (Gemara Shabbat 32b)

Speak to the children of Israel and tell them to make for themselves fringes on the corners of their garments, throughout their generations, and they shall affix a thread of techeilet on the fringe of each corner. (Bamidbar 15:38)

After the mitzvah of mezuzah, the Torah states (Devarim 11:21) “So that your days and the days of your children be lengthened upon the land that G-d swore to give to your forefathers…” Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yehuda disagreed about how to understand these verses. According to one of them, a person’s children are stricken when he neglects the mitzvah of mezuzah. The other derives from a different verse (in Jeremiah)[1]that a person’s children are stricken when he neglects the mitzvah of tzitzit. (Gemara Shabbat 32b)

This teaching of our Sages is puzzling. Of all the mitzvot in the Torah, why are mezuzah and tzitzit singled out for such severe punishment? We would expect that kind of punishment for violating a negative commandment. But these are positive commandments, whose neglect is generally regarded as a missed opportunity, and not something deserving of terrible punishment!

As Jewish parents, it is crucially important that we raise our children to a love of Torah, to a sense of its sanctity and majesty. There are many ways to teach these lessons, but one in particular is fundamental. When children see their parents pridefully and publicly carrying the banner of Torah and mitzvot, they realize the high regard in which matters of holiness are held. It shows them that the Torah’s sanctity is not an abstract ideal, but one that infuses their parents’ very being.

Unfortunately, the opposite is true when children sense that their parents are ashamed to observe mitzvot in public. Even if those same mitzvot are faithfully kept in the privacy of the home, the parents’ lack of public regard for mitzvot puts the spiritual development of their children on a compromised foundation. They are set on a trajectory of spiritual mediocrity at best, and total repudiation of Torah at worst.

It turns out that there are two ways to publicly demonstrate your commitment to mitzvah observance. One of them actually plays out at home. Does your house advertise your dedication G-d? When guests and outsiders come to visit, is your loyalty to mitzvot hidden out of shame or displayed with pride? However, a higher level is when one takes their affinity for kedushah beyond the walls of their home and out into the public domain.

These two approaches are encapsulated by the mitzvot of mezuzah and tzitzit. Themezuzahis placed on the outside of a Jewish home, and calls out to all passersby – ‘This is a Jewish home, a home that conducts all its concerns and affairs in accordance with the Divine Torah, and G-d’s spirit rests herein!’ Tzitzit advertise one’s religious commitment more broadly, literally wherever one’s feet carry him. Tzitzit shows that their wearer is committed not only to the principle of mitzvah observance, but to their implementation in daily life. Furthermore, unlike mezuzah, which symbolizes faithfulness to Torah in a general sense, tzitzit are for us to “remember and perform all [emphasis added] My commandments and… be holy to your G-d” (Devarim 15:40). Tzitzit demonstrate a commitment to the totality of mitzvah observance, with all of its details and intricacies.

We are now able to answer our earlier questions on the teaching of Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yehuda. Yes, children can be stricken for their parents’ neglect of mezuzah and tzitzit– but that is not simply a punishment. It is the natural outcome of an upbringing that casts mitzvah observance as a source of shame instead of pride, as something to conceal instead of our most prized possession.[2]

And this is why Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yehuda single out the mitzvot of mezuzah and tzitzit. The punishment they are discussing is not for neglecting any particular mitzvah per se, but for failure to model Torah observance as a matter of pride. That idea is uniquely encapsulated by mezuzah and tzitzit, as we have explained.

Food for Thought

Mishnah Berurah (Orach Chaim 8:26): Those people who place their tzitzit inside their pants act improperly. It is not enough that they ignore the fact that the Torah states ‘and you shall see it and remember,’ but in addition they show contempt for the mitzvah of Hashem…. They will be accountable for this in the future.… If they would have received some gift from a king of flesh and blood on which the name of the king is engraved, how proudly would they always adorn themselves with it in front of other people. All the more so should they wish to adorn themselves with tzitzit, which alludes to the name of the supreme king of kings, the Holy One blessed be He.”

Rabbi Avraham Posner (Chabad.com): The great Kabbalist, Rabbi Isaac Luria (the Arizal, 1534-1572), would wear his tallit kattan, tzitzit and all, under his other garments… Rabbi Chaim Vital explained that this was because the tallit kattan represents the internal level [of reality] and is therefore worn within other garments, while the tallit gadol represents the external [level of reality] and is therefore worn over the other garments. In a published talk, the [Lubavitcher] Rebbe elucidated this concept, explaining that in the “external reality” of the talit gadol, when the Torah says to see the tzitzit, it means actual, external visibility, because this will affect your external behavior, keeping you from sin and reminding you to fulfill all the mitzvahs. In the “internal reality” of the tallit kattan, however, seeing the tzitzit means looking internally towards your own inner self, carrying yourself to a higher level of spirituality and fulfillment of the mitzvahs.

Racheli Malek-Buda (“Will My Children Remain Religious?”): [O]n Friday evening in the yishuv, when I heard Shabbos zemirosbursting from one of the houses on my street. It was a rare event. I assume that my neighbors were having a Really Really Orthodox family over if they allowed themselves to just…sing zemiros in the middle of the night. Because in our friend group, zemirosaren’t really a part of the Shabbos table anymore.

Where have the zemiros gone? I asked myself. We eat together, make Kiddush together, Shabbos is still Shabbos. But the tunes have slowly dissipated over the years, replaced by witty conversation or political debate. They went from being a natural ritual we simply couldn’t go without, to some bothersome task we couldn’t wait to get rid of. Why should we stop the fun just to sing D’ror Yikra? That sort of thought could get you officially labeled a party pooper. When my son wanted to enroll in a religious high school, they announced there’d be a Judaism exam. “Say,” I wondered suddenly on our way to his test. “Do you even know Al HaMichya by heart?” Of course he didn’t. After all, the perfectly Orthodox-lite family he grew up in doesn’t force the kids to bentch anymore….

And suddenly I can understand my father, who insisted we sit next to the table and sing zemiros, no exceptions. He understood what I’m beginning to understand now: that you can’t introduce a way of life without repetitive and deliberate assimilation. You can’t raise the next generation on episodic folklore. Annoying as it sounds, there’s no way to instill substantial religiosity in your children without a pinch of forcefulness or requiring a certain sacrifice.

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

Read the excerpt from Racheli Malek-Buda above. Are the shortcomings she identifies the same as those Rav Kook sees as symbolized by mezuzah/tzitzit, or are they different?
Is publicly advertising one’s religious commitment always a good thing? If not, why not?
What small thing could you do differently to publicly demonstrate – to the broader world or to your children – pride in Torah and mitzvot?
Can we apply Rav Kook’s ideas to wearing a kippah in public? To showing pride in Jewish identity in general, without any specific connection to mitzvah observance? Why or why not?
The Torah says that tzitzit are for us to see and be reminded to observe the mitzvot. Rav Kook focuses on their message to the broader world. Is this a contradiction?
Other than mezuzah and tzitzit, what other mitzvot publicly ‘advertise’ a person’s loyalty to Torah?
Do a father and mother have the same or different roles in educating children to pride in mitzvahobservance? If they are different, why and how so?

[1] ירמיהו ב:ל – ׳גם בכנפיך נמצאו דםנ פשות אביונים נקיים.׳ רש׳י על הגמ׳ – בשביל כנפיך שבטלת מצותם נמצאו עליך חובת דם נפשות אביונים נקיים בנים קטנים שלא חטאו.

[2] Yes, children who grow up in that kind of home have free will, but the odds are stacked against them, and that is why they are stricken, as a means of quarantining the spiritual damage that their parents have inflicted.

Inner and Outer Lights – Parshat Beha’alotkha

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Printable PDF available here.

Ein Ayah (Gemara Shabbat 22b)

“Speak to Aaron and say to him: ‘When you light the lamps, the seven lamps shall cast their light toward the face of the menorah.’” (Bamidbar 8:2). Rav Sheshet asked – Does G-d really need the Jewish People to provide Him light? Didn’t they travel by His light for forty years?! Rather, it is testimony to the entire world that the Divine presence rests among the Jewish People.(Gemara Shabbat 22b)

The Jewish People possess two types of spiritual illumination. The inner light is the light of Torah, prophecy and ruach ha’kodesh.[1] This light, which emanates from the place of the Temple,[2] is exclusive to the Jewish People. The nations of the world cannot relate to it and have no conception of its illumination.

The inner light alone would leave our external conduct unrefined and in a state of darkness. As a people, our affairs would be without development or pleasantness, lacking in harmony and order. But this is a price we would eagerly pay to come close to the Divine.

However, the Torah teaches us that this choice is unnecessary. For there is a second, ‘external’ light – itself a manifestation of the inner light – that we must bring wherever life takes us. We are summoned to conduct ourselves with dignity (lit. קוממיות), to present ourselves as a wise and noble people, by virtue of the unique kedushah that we possess.

This second, ‘external’ light is represented by the Menorah, whose light shines beyond the parochet. The light of the Menorah reaches (symbolically) beyond the narrow confines of the Temple, when the Jewish nation conducts itself in an orderly and cultured manner, in a way that leaves an impression of pleasantness and nobility.

For forty years in the desert, the Jewish People lived without this ‘external’ light, without any worldly sensibilities or practical concerns. Subsisting on miracles, they traversed the desert guided by G-d’s hand and basked in the presence of his Shechinah. Thus, Rav Sheshet asks why the Menorah was needed at this juncture in history. ‘Does G-d really need the Jewish People to provide Him light? Didn’t they travel by His light for forty years?!’ His question is not about the physical light of the Menorah, but its spiritual counterpart.

Rav Sheshet’s answer is that the light of the Menorah is “testimony to the entire world that the Divine presence rests among the Jewish People.” Only by unifying the inner and outer lights can the Jewish People have any influence on humanity. The inner dimension of our spiritual world and our Torah is not something they can comprehend. Torah, prophecy, ruach ha’kodesh – none of these categories are part of non-Jewish reality. But when the broader world sees the Jewish People living a natural and healthy life, conducting themselves with splendor and pleasantness, in a manner that earns respect instead of leaving a bad taste in their mouth – then and only then does humanity possess “testimony that the Divine presence rests among the Jewish People.”

Food for Thought

Prof. William Kolbrener (Open Minded Torah, pg. 22-24): I was invited to the party of a friend… A few of the children, surprisingly, wore kippas, and the parents of my friend, perhaps newly religious, bought a real kosher cake. Those were the days before fancy icy decorations meant making an appointment with a ‘confectionary artist’ in a Greenwich Village loft. True, one of the cars of the blue-frosted train looked like a flower with wheels, but it did not matter to me, or from the looks of it, any of the other children. When it came to the birthday boy to divide the cake, no suitable kosher knife was found. Upon realizing this dilemma, one of the fathers ran from the house, presumably to his car, to retrieve a screwdriver; on his return, he attacked the cake, cutting inelegant jagged pieces. The rest of the parents, unimpressed by the intervention, were silent, the ‘birthday boy’ stunned. That was probably the last time anyone in his family arranged for a kosher meal…

The prophet says, ‘On that day you shall know’ – ve-yadata– and ‘place it on your heart that G-d is one in the heavens above and the earth below.’ G-d’s unity is affirmed in the heavens, and then on earth: through da’at, the abstract ideal rests on the heart, in this world. Da’at– knowledge of the heart – is an act of internalization, bringing the knowledge of Torah down to earth… One who has da’at always waits for the call of the moment, and asks himself: ‘What does this situation demand?’ In heeding this question, he shows that Torah makes a difference in what he does. Like Betzalel, he joins heaven and earth… Torah is not abstract knowledge, but embodied and lived, revealed in his countenance… The Torah reveals itself or, through our engagements in this world, we reveal Torah in its many aspects, as we heed the call of the moment.

Rav Ya’akov Emden (Mor U’Ketziah 307): At a time when one is not able to learn Torah, it is acceptable to study some secular history… so that we should not look like boors in the eyes of the Gentiles amongst whom we live. If we are not able to carry on an intelligent discussion with them, then^[3] they will say רק עם סכל ועניי הדעת העם הזה.

Talmud Yerushalmi (Bava Metzia 2:5): Rabbi Shimon ben Shetach dealt in linen. His students said to him: “Rebbe, desist from this trade. We will buy you a donkey [to make an easier living as a donkey driver] and you will not have to toil so much.” They went and purchased a donkey from a bandit. The students subsequently found a precious stone dangling from it. They went back to Rabbi Shimon ben Shetach and said to him: “From now on you need not exert yourself.” He asked: “How so?” The students responded: “We purchased a donkey for you from a bandit and a precious stone was dangling from it.” Rabbi Shimon ben Shetach asked: “Did the donkey’s seller know that the stone was there?” They answered: “No.” He then said to them: “Go return it.” The students remonstrated with Rabbi Shimon ben Shetach: “Although theft from an idolater is prohibited, one permitted to keep an object that an idolater has lost!” He responded: “What do you think, that Shimon ben Shetach is a barbarian? More than all the wealth of the world, Shimon ben Shetach desires to hear [the non-Jew say]: “Berich Elokah d’Yehudo’ei” (“Blessed is the G-d of the Jews”).

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

If the Menorah represents the ‘outer light’ of the Torah, which other vessel in the Temple might represent its ‘inner light’?
Rav Kook writes that the inner dimension of our spiritual world and our Torah is not something the broader world can comprehend. Do you agree?
Can you think of a recent example from the news where Jews conducted themselves in a way that spread the Torah’s ‘outer’ light? Where they failed to do so?
How does one learn to conduct Jewish life in a way that projects dignity and pleasantness in the eyes of the broader world? Does it require formal education or is it something you learn experientially?
Is the Torah’s ‘outer’ light the same thing as making a kiddush Hashem, or does it mean something different?
How do we ensure that earning the broader world’s respect doesn’t cause us to dilute Torah values or compromise mitzvah observance in the process? What if they regard our values as intolerant, outmoded or bigoted?
Read the excerpts in ‘Food for Thought’ above – each of them is highlighting a different way of bringing the Torah’s ‘outer’ light to the world. See if you can identify each of their different methods.

[1] It is clear that only the Jews have Torah, and there are sources that support the idea that only Jews have prophecy. The idea, however, that only Jews can have ruach ha-kodesh seems more novel. I am not familiar with any other sources that discuss this topic.

[2]In the Hebrew, Rav Kook alludes to the following midrash– ממקום בית המקדש משם אורה יוצאת לעולם הה”ד (יחזקאל מג): “והנה כבוד אלקי ישראל בא מדרך הקדים וקולו כקול מים רבים והארץ האירה מכבודו” ואין כבודו אלא בית המקדש כמה דאת אמר (ירמיה, יז): “כסא כבוד מרום מראשון מקום מקדשנו”.

[3]This is a play on words on Devarim 4:6 – ושמרתם ועשיתם כי הוא חכמתכם ובינתכם לעיני העמים אשר ישמעון את כל החקים האלה ואמרו רק עם חכם ונבון הגוי הגדול הזה.

Receiving From the Kohen – Parshat Nasso

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Rabbi Yochanan taught as follows – Why does the subject of the sotah immediately follow the laws of offerings and tithes for the kohanim? To teach that whoever does not hand over terumah and ma’aser to a Kohen, will in the end require a Kohen’s services to deal with his wife [as a sotah]. (Gemara Berachot 63a)

The basic premise of Rabbi Yochanan’s question makes sense. The parshah of the sotah seems out of place in the book of Bamidbar, which concentrates on the Jewish people’s encampments in the desert. It is more suited for inclusion in the book of Vayikra, in Parshat Achrei Mot or Kedoshim. Rabbi Yochanan’s answer, however, is puzzling. Why should a man’s failure to give terumah and ma’aser result in his wife becoming suspected of infidelity as a sotah? What does one thing have to do with the other?

It is vital that the masses of the Jewish people maintain a strong connection with Israel’s unique spiritual personalities, whose energies are dedicated exclusively to Torah and Divine service. This connection has the power to strengthen their ethical consciousness and conduct. After all, the spiritual power of Torah is not meant to affect scholars alone. The masses partake as well, through love of Torah scholars and those who embody the Torah’s ethical teachings.

One channel for the spiritual elite to influence the masses is the various gifts and tithes given the Kohanim. From a superficial perspective, these gifts are a form of welfare for the Kohanim, whose landlessness and dedication to Temple service prevents them from earning a living. The deeper truth is that the priestly gifts create a relationship between the masses and the Kohanim, one that (ideally) generates a mindset of respect and deference for the Kohen and what he represents.

When one refuses to give terumah and ma’aser to a Kohen, he deprives the Kohen of what is rightfully his, but he also deprives himself of the Kohen’s spiritual influence. As a result, his moral standards will erode and he will become estranged from the light of Torah and holiness. He will be overpowered by fixations with shallow physical pleasures. This will affect not only his moral stature, but that of his household as well. His spiritual sensitivity will deteriorate to the point that even the most basic human values will be seriously undermined. As a result of the atmosphere in his home, he will find that his own wife has discarded her former tzniut, and compromised her fidelity by secluding herself with a suspected paramour.

This is the deeper meaning of Rabbi Yochanan’s statement. That one’s wife becomes a sotah as a result of failure to give terumah and ma’aser is not a punishment. It is the natural consequence of shallowness and spiritual mediocrity, as a result of estrangement from the Kohanim.

Food for Thought

Rambam (Hilchot De’ot 6:2): It is a positive commandment to cleave unto the wise and their disciples in order to learn from their deeds as (Devarim 10:20) states: “and you shall cling to Him.” Our Sages questioned the nature of this command, for is it possible for man to cling to the Divine Presence? They resolved the difficulty by explaining this commandment to mean ‘Cleave unto the wise and their disciples.’

Jack Wertheimer (Can Modern Orthodoxy Survive?): Rabbinic authority is waning. Rabbis across the spectrum of Modern Orthodoxy, resisters and accommodators alike, point to a community that has absorbed American understandings of the sovereign self. “What rabbis say does not matter,” is a refrain I have heard repeatedly. “Authority is in retreat,” declares one rabbi; says another, “People like traditional davening (prayer) and singing; but when it comes to halakhah impinging on them, then they resist.”…

Accelerating these trends is the new reality of the Internet. Thanks to it, states one rabbi, “everybody has a right to have a position; everyone has a de’ah [opinion] about everything.” Educated Jews can look up answers to their own questions and choose from the answers available online. Many feel empowered in this role simply by dint of their day-school education and by the time they have spent studying in Israel, even as they are also encouraged by modern culture’s stress on individual autonomy to act according to the dictates of their conscience.

Rav Aharon Lichtenstein (Rabbinic and Lay Communal Authority): [Some maintain] with respect to the realm of “communal governance and policy,” however defined, that rabbis, as such, ought be precluded from the exercise of authority, this presumably being the prerogative of the laity… While the existence of areas, presumably halakhic, of rabbinic jurisdiction is evidently recognized, the perception of the rabbi, insofar as matters of communal policy are concerned, as a legal specialist, seems inescapable. He will be heard and heeded, so long as he addresses his congregants from the platform of the Shulhan Arukh as their posek. Barring that, however, he carries no more weight than any of them… I find this position unconscionable. It does violence to Halakhah, and it does violence to its rabbinic representatives. The notion that whatever has not been explicitly proscribed is implicitly licit, and thus not subject to rabbinic judgment, is morally and religiously abhorrent. It obviates sensitivity to lifnim mi-shurat ha-din, in its multifaceted manifestations, obliterates meta-halakhic considerations, and potentially eviscerates the ethical and axiological components of Torah spiritual life. It invites not only [Christian] charges of arid legalism but… diminishes the image and the reality of the rabbi’s stature, and emasculates his position as the spiritual and pastoral leader of his community.

Rabbi Chaim Jachter (Hacham Ovadia Yosef – The Most Accomplished Rav of Recent Generations): Every truly great Gadol BeYisrael… is distinguished for his ability to relate to the wide masses of the Jewish People. For example, both the Ben Ish Hai and the Hafetz Haim commanded the awe and respect of their peers as well as the broader Jewish community who flocked to hear the lectures of these two great rabbis. In the United States, the Lubavitcher Rebbe and Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik attracted the greatest scholars as well as thousands of ordinary Jews to their speeches…. The fact that nearly a million Jews attended Hacham Ovadia’s funeral stands in awesome testimony of the ability of Hacham Ovadia to connect with the masses of Jews. His radio broadcasts and his Motza’ei Shabbat Shiurim which were televised via closed circuit television worldwide attracted tens of thousands of devotees… Hacham Ovadia was able to move vast audiences to reach closer to Hashem and His Holy Torah… Rav Ovadia was able to deeply move audiences of thousands at motivational assemblies devoted to bring Jews back to their Torah roots. Hacham Ovadia knew how to connect with his audiences and brought warmth and a sense of humor that drew his audiences close to him and more important to allegiance to Torah.

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

According to Rav Kook, giving terumah and ma’aser to a Kohen is supposed to generate a mindset of respect and deference for the spiritual values that the Kohen represents. What kind of impediments would make it hard to develop this mindset? Why do you think someone would decide not to give terumah and ma’aser to Kohanim?
We tend to think of the sotah as a disreputable character. According to Rav Kook, who is really at fault for her behavior?
Do you (or your community) have a healthy attitude towards religious leaders and role models? Why or why not?
According to Rav Kook, the Kohen is a model of spiritual leadership whose influence flows out to the masses. Where in Parshat Nasso do we have a model of spirituality where holiness is based on withdrawing from the masses?
Rav Kook understands that the Kohanim are not just functionaries in the Temple, but essentially role models and spiritual teachers for the people. What do you think this is based on?[1]
The excerpts in “Food For Thought” above are about contemporary rabbinic leadership. What are some differences between priestly and rabbinic leadership? What are some similarities?
Can you identify some differences between how different groups of Orthodoxy relate to religious authority? Why does your community believe what it believes on this issue?

[1] Hint – look up Devarim 33:10 and Malachi 2:7.

Flashes in the Desert – Parshat Bamidbar

Due to time constraints, this is not an original translation, but an excerpt from R. Chanan Morrison’s “Sapphire From the Land of Israel,” an adaption of Rav Kook on parshah and holidays.

Printable PDF available here.

Shemuot HaRe’iyah (5689)

Our sense of holiness and closeness to God is not constant; there are times when we experience a heightened spiritual awareness. These moments reflect a transient holiness — kedushat sha’ah. Also in the life of the nation, there are special times of kedushat sha’ah. This is the central theme of Sefer Bamidbar (the Book of Numbers), which recounts Israel’s unique experiences during their forty-year sojourn in the Sinai desert – a time when bread fell from the heavens and water spouted from rocks, a time of Divine protection and unparalleled prophetic revelation.

The book of Bamidbar opens with the words: “God spoke to Moses in the Sinai Desert in the Communion Tent.” (Num. 1:1). The terms ‘Sinai Desert’ and ‘Ohel Mo’ed’ are motifs repeated throughout Sefer Bamidbar. They call our attention to the special kedushat sha’ah of that generation.

Unlike Jerusalem’s permanent holiness, the holiness of Mount Sinai was temporary, lasting only for the duration of Matan Torah, the Revelation of the Torah at Sinai. Unlike the permanence of the Temple — a durable structure — the Tabernacle was provisional — a portable tent. And unlike the 613 mitzvot that apply in all ages, the special mitzvot that God commanded the Israelites in the desert – how to encamp, the signal blasts, the order of transporting the Tabernacle — only obligated that generation.

One should not think that kedushat sha’ah is on a lower level than permanent holiness. On the contrary, it is precisely because of its loftiness that this holiness cannot last forever. The deficiency is not in it, but in we who experience it. We are unable to maintain this level of holiness on a continual basis.

One example of the temporary holiness of Sefer Bamidbar was the Israelites’ use of special banners for each tribe in the encampment. The Midrash explains that these flags were given to Israel due to their desire to emulate the angels. Angels appeared at Matan Torah in chariots bedecked with flags, and the Israelites wanted to have similar flags. These flags correspond to the temporary holiness of Mount Sinai and Matan Torah. They reflect the special holiness of angels, a holiness beyond the reach of the human soul.

The dichotomy between temporary and permanent holiness also existed in that generation’s leaders: Moses and Aaron. Moses served as the kohen during the Tabernacle’s dedication — a priesthood of kedushat sha’ah lasting only one week. Aaron, on the other hand, commenced a lineage of kohanim for all generations. Even today, kohanim emphasize their connection to Aaron’s permanent holiness in the blessing they recite, “Who sanctified us with the sanctity of Aaron.”

The founding of the Jewish people required both types of holiness. They needed both Moses and Aaron, both kedushat sha’ah and kedushah la-dorot. The events recorded in Sefer Bamidbar took place during an era of miracles and unique Divine providence, the historic revelation at Sinai, and Moses’ unparalleled prophetic vision in the provisional Ohel Mo’ed. But it was also the time to establish the foundations for Israel’s permanent holiness, to set down the Torah and mitzvot that would guide all future generations.

Food for Thought

Derashot haRan (#5): For a man has two orientations, an upper orientation and a lower one; when he reflects upon and perfects himself in the realm of intellect and cultivates good character, he breaks away from the terrestrial and rises upwards; and when he leaves the realm of intellect and inclines to the material, he descends downwards. This is intimated in the visions of our father Jacob in the dream of the ladder, (Bereishit 28:12): “And, behold, the angels of G-d ascending and descending on it.” It was revealed to him that that place was propitious for prophecy and that from it men could rise to perfect themselves, but that so long as they were alive it was impossible that this be a continuous, unbroken rising, but that, rather, they would rise so long as they occupied themselves with the needs of their souls and fall to the extent that they ceased from this to occupy themselves with the needs of their bodies. And the implication to be drawn from this was, as far as possible, to increase those things which abet rising and decrease those which compel falling.
Ramban al-haTorah (Introduction to Bamidbar): אחר שביאר תורת הקרבנות בספר השלישי התחיל עתה לסדר בספר הזה המצות שנצטוו בענין אהל מועד. וכבר הזהיר על טומאת מקדש וקדשיו לדורות. ועתה יגביל את המשכן בהיותו במדבר כאשר הגביל הר סיני בהיות הכבוד שם. צוה והזר הקרב יומת כאשר אמר שם כי סקול יסקל. וצוה ולא יבאו לראות כבלע את הקדש ומתו כאשר הזהיר שם פן יהרסו אל ה’ לראות וגו’. וצוה ושמרתם את משמרת הקדש ואת משמרת המזבח כאשר אמר שם וגם הכהנים הנגשים אל ה’ יתקדשו וגו’ והכהנים והעם וגו’. והנה צוה איך תהיה משמרת המשכן וכליו ואיך יחנו סביב ויעמוד העם מרחוק והכהנים הנגשים אל ה’ איך יתנהגו בו בחנותו ובשאת אותו ומה יעשו במשמרתו והכל מעלה למקדש וכבוד לו כמו שאמרו אינו דומה פלטרין של מלך שיש לו שומרין לפלטרין שאין לו שומרין. והספר הזה כולו במצות שעה שנצטוו בהם בעמדם במדבר ובנסים הנעשים להם לספר כל מעשה ה’ אשר עשה עמהם להפליא. וספר כי החל לתת אויביהם לפניהם לחרב וצוה איך תחלק הארץ להם. ואין בספר הזה מצות נוהגות לדורות זולתי קצת מצות בענייני הקרבנות שהתחיל בהן בספר הכהנים ולא נשלם ביאורן שם והשלימן בספר הזה.
R. Akiva Tatz (Living Inspired, Chapter 2): At an extremely low point in our history, during the intense misery of slavery in Egypt, literally at the point of spiritual annihilation, the Jewish people were uplifted miraculously. Ten plagues revealed Hashem’s presence and might, culminating in a night of unprecedented revelation with the tenth. This spiritual high was amplified by many orders of magnitude at the splitting of the sea – there the lowliest of the Jewish people experienced more than the highest prophet subsequently. And suddenly, once through the sea, they were deposited in a desert with many days of work ahead of them to climb to the spiritual status of meriting the Sinai experience, the giving of the Torah. Mystically, a desert means a place of intense death-forces, a place of lethal ordeals. No water means no life. (And we see later the potency of the ordeals which faced them in the desert

…And that is the secret of life. A person is inspired artificially at the beginning of any phase of life, but to acquire the depth of personality which is demanded of us, Hashem removes the inspiration. The danger is apathy and depression; the challenge is to fight back to the point of inspiration, and in so doing to build it permanently into one’s character. The plagues in Egypt and the splitting of the sea are dazzling beyond description, but then Hashem puts us in the desert and challenges us to fight through to Sinai. In Egypt He demonstrates destruction of ten levels of evil while we watch passively; in the desert He brings ten levels of evil to bear against us and challenges us to destroy them.

In all these applications, and in fact in all of life, the challenge of the second phase is to remember the first, to remain inspired by that memory and to use it as fuel for constant growth. The Rambam describes life as a dark night on a stormy plain – lashed by the rain, lost in the darkness, one is faced with despair. Suddenly, there is a flash of lightning. In a millisecond the scenery is as clear as day, one’s direction obvious. But just as soon as it is perceived it disappears; and one must fight on through the storm with only the memory of that flash for guidance. The lightning lasts very briefly; the darkness may seem endless.

That is the pattern of life, short-lived inspiration and lengthy battles. The tools needed are determination, perseverance and a stubborn refusal to despair. Personal ordeals which make despair seem imminent are in reality a father’s hands, withdrawn so that you can learn to walk. And the work of remembering the flash of light when it seems impossible is emuna, faith.

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

How could Rav Kook’s insights help us combat the letdown many of us feel after Yom Tov (and Yamim Noraim especially?)
Why is it so hard to hold onto the moments of inspiration in life?
Does our generation have more difficulty holding onto inspiration than our ancestors did? If so, why?
Is kedushat sha’ah (in Rav Kook’s terminology) really the same thing as temporary inspiration? Or are they different?
Does Torah learning generate kedushat sha’ah or lasting kedushah? What about observance of mitzvot? (See Gem. Sotah 20a).