Month: May 2020

A Joyful Burden – Parshat Bamidbar

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Last year’s post on Bamidbar is available here.

Rav Kook (Ein Ayah, Gemara Shabbat 92a)

Aaron and his sons shall finish covering the Holy and all the vessels of the Holy when the camp is set to travel, and following that, the children of Kehat shall come to carry [them], but they shall not touch the sacred objects for [then] they will die. These are the burden of the children of Kehat for the Tent of Meeting. (Bamidbar 4:15)

[In matters of Hilchot Shabbat, one is normally only liable if they perform a prohibited act in an ordinary manner.] R. Elazar taught regarding the prohibition of carrying (lit. הוצאה) that one who carries an item above ten tefachim is liable, because we find that this is how the children of Kehat carried the sacred items of the Mishkan. (Gemara Shabbat 92a)

Unlike the angels, man’s feet are planted on terra firma, and it is the surface of this world that serves as the domain of his activity and initiative. Man cannot – and G-d does not expect him to – totally transcend his earthly nature and rise heavenward with his entire essence, with all of his existence and aspirations. G-d created us as physical beings and not angels. Our Sages expressed precisely this thought when they taught (Gemara Sukkah 5a) that the Shechina, the Divine Presence, never descended below ten tefachim above the ground, nor did Moshe or Eliahu ascended beyond ten tefachim above the ground. It appearsthat this isn’t meant only  on a literal level. Rather, our Sages are telling us not only that despite His act of revelation, G-d remains transcendent and hovers above our earthly reality, not becoming merged and constrained by it. But they are also teaching us that our human reality is limited and inseparable from the earthly world that we live in.

However, R. Elazar comes in Gemara Shabbatand provides a fuller picture. It is true that we are unable to entirely transcend our earthly nature. But our task and sacred obligation in this world rests precisely upon what we carry “above ten tefachim,” in the G-dly realm. Our task, which we must express in action and ethical values, at every moment and in every place, is to serve as bearers of G-dliness in this physical world. This is not an abberant, burdensome consciousness that bursts into our reality from the transcendent heavenly spheres. It is the most normal and natural form of existence, for which G-d has designated us and created us. This is the deeper meaning of R. Elazar’s teaching that “one who carries an item above ten tefachim is liable, because we find that this is how the children of Kehat carried the sacred items of the Mishkan.”

Food for Thought

Rav Samson Raphel Hirsch (Collected Writings Vol. 9, pg. 127): Jewish ideology does not teach destroying the earth to reach the heavens, but rather lifting up the earth toward heaven. It teaches that all earthly endeavors of man are to be a sanctuary unto God, that all the earth be raised into an altar of God, and that God’s glory descend upon earth. Heaven and earth are no longer to be contrasts; heaven and earth are to embrace; life to come is to blossom already on earth. Jewish pride consists not in overcoming death but in rising above earthly life, and adorning an earthly, fleeting life with heavenly, eternal blossoms.

Gemara Erachin (11a): The requirement for the Levites to accompany the Temple offerings with song is derived from here: “But unto the sons of Kehat he gave no wagons, because the service of the holy things belonged to them – they bore them [yisa’u] upon their shoulders” (Bamidbar7:9). By inference from that which is stated, “upon their shoulders,” don’t I already know that they “bore” them? Why must the Torah state “yisa’u”? The answer is that it conveys a deeper level of meaning, of “yisa’u” in the sense of an expression of song. And similarly, the verse states: “Take up [se’u] the melody, and sound the timbrel,” and another verse states: “They lift up [yisu] their voice, they sing for joy.”

Rav Aharon Lichtenstein (Mah Enosh”: Reflections on the Relation between Judaism and Humanism):  Judaism has regarded the nature of man in the light of a basic antinomy. On the one hand, man is a noble, even an exalted being. His spiritual potential and metaphysical worth are rooted in his tzelem Elokim, “the image of G-d” with which his Creator has invested him. The phrase is doubly significant. It describes man’s metaphysical essence, on the one hand, and it suggests a kinship on the other. “Beloved is man that he is created with an image. Particular love is manifested to him in that he is created in G-d’s image, as it is said, ‘For in the image of G-d He made man.’” Man was imbued with a transcendental spark—endowed with personality, intelligence, and freedom—because divine grace destined him for a special relation with itself. Individually and collectively, man is therefore the object of particular Providence, and, as a spiritual being, a subject capable of engaging his personality in a dialectical community with G-d.

Faith in the essential worth of man, independently considered, is basic to Judaism. As regards his relative cosmic position, however, the tradition has harbored conflicting views. Thus, Maharal placed man at the very apex of creation, while Rambam insisted the angels were ontologically superior. Similarly, Rambam strongly rejected the notion, often cherished by humanists, that the universe as a whole exists solely in order to serve man. Just as G-d willed the existence of man, so He willed that of other beings, each for its own sake…Yet numerous texts expound the very position the Rambam rejects…

On the one hand, then, man is regarded as a majestic and exalted being. And yet, on the other, we are confronted by the radical pessimism of Kohelet: “For that which befalls the sons of men befalls beasts; even one thing befalls them; as the one dies, so dies the other; yea, they have all one breath; so that man’s pre-eminence over the beast is naught, for all is vanity.” For devotees of biblical criticism, it would of course be easy to dismiss this apparent contradiction on historical grounds, to regard the conflicting statements as the contrasting expressions of individual personalities or the Zeitgeist of different periods. Not only easy, however, but facile. The Rabbis, in any event, thought otherwise. They insisted on incorporating both attitudes in adjacent passages of one of the oldest and most august of our standard prayers, the ne‘ilahrecited at the end of Yom Kippur:

What are we? What is our life? What is our goodness? What our virtue? What our help? What our strength, what our might? What can we say to Thee, Lord our G-d and G-d of our fathers? Indeed, all the heroes are as nothing in Thy sight, the men of renown as though they never existed, the wise as without knowledge, the intelligent as without insight. For the multitude of their actions is empty and the days of their life vanity in Thy sight; and man’s pre-eminence over the beast is naught, for all is vanity. Yet, from the first Thou didst single out man and acknowledged him [as worthy] to stand in Thy presence….

Rav Yehuda Amital (Jewish Values in a Changing World, pg. 195): There has been a tendency in recent years to idealize great rabbis, to the point of total disregard of their human feelings and weaknesses. The Torah presents the opposite approach: Every person has a human side, which must not be denied. Even the prophets had doubts and difficulties. The Torah recognizes that man lives in this world, and has no expectation that he behave as if he were living in an ideal and unreal universe.

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.

Questions for Discussion/Further Thought

  1. How does the gemara in Erachinin “Food for Thought” above connect to Rav Kook’s ideas?
  2. Much of modern society regards religion in general, and Orthodoxy Judaism in particular, as something aberrant and abnormal. Where do we differ with them and why are they wrong?
  3. Rav Kook writes that G-d does not expect people to totally transcend their physical nature. Where in the Torah or halacha do we find this expressed?
  4. Is it ironic that the Torah’s message about the normalcy of man’s spiritual side is derived from the generation of the Midbar? Why or why not?
  5. Where in halacha do we find the idea that one is only liable if they perform a prohibited act in an ordinary manner? Do you know anyone that has ever had to rely on this leniency in the context of hilchos shabbos?

Freedom for the Past, Freedom for the Future – Parshat Behar/Bechukotai

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Rav Kook (Shabbat Ha’aretz, Introduction)

And you shall sanctify the fiftieth year, and proclaim freedom [for slaves] throughout the land for all who live on it. It shall be a Yovel for you, and you shall return, each man to his property, and you shall return, each man to his family. (Vayikra 25:10)

From Rosh HaShana until Yom Kippur of the Yovel Year,[1]Jewish slaves were not released to their homes, until the shofar was sounded on Yom Kippur. But they were also not enslaved to their masters, as the Yovel Year had already begun. Rather, they would eat, drink, and rejoice, and wear crowns on their heads like free people. Once Yom Kippur arrived, the court would sound the shofar, slaves would be released to their houses, and fields that were sold would be returned to their original owners. (Gemara Rosh haShanah 8b)

Every fifty years, in the Yovel year, all Hebrew slaves would be emancipated and fields would return to their ancestral owners. We would expect this to be a disruptive and chaotic experience. Yovel overturned the ordered patterns of the economic and social order. Put yourself in the shoes of a Jewish master used to owning his slaves, or a wealthy landowner habituated to reaping profit from his substantial holdings. Yovel would have felt like a bomb going off, leveling everything in sight.

But this is not the picture painted by our Sages in the gemara. The Yovel was a cause for celebration, and was regarded by all not as a source of joy, not dread. This is because Yovel draws from the highest source of holiness, which is itself an integral part of Israel’s essence. It comes not as a demand foreign to Israel’s being, but an expression of its true self and its all-encompassing spiritual vision. For any other nation, Yovel would be utterly foreign to their aspirations, and would be experienced as a terrible burden. But not so is the Jewish People.

We must ask, however, what the difference is between the spiritual aspiration furthered by Yovel and that of shemitah? Do the two represent the same, different, or mutually complementary ideals?

The answer is that the vision of Yovel is more ambitious than the shemitah cycles that proceed it. Shemitah is future oriented. It comes to correct the spiritual development of Israel prospectively. Unhindered and unrestricted, man’s economic activity leads to jealousy, spiteful competition and lust for wealth. It dullens man’s spiritual grandeur, and causes him to forgot G-d. Shemitah, the “Sabbath of the land,” comes to elevate man’s aspirations beyond his physical sustenance and remind him that “Not by bread alone does man live.”

This is an awesome, supernal process that plays out every seven years, but it is very much future-focused. The people, like the land, gather spiritual strength for the earthly labor of the next six years of the shemitah cycle.  But the pollution of society’s past shortcomings, failures, and injustices remains. Yovel comes to uplift this domain as well. Let us explain.

Most slaves would go free after seven years of labor. The slaves who had to wait until Yovel were those who refused to leave when given the opportunity, who choose a position of feeble dependence and spurned G-d’s declaration that “Israel shall serve Me – but no other.” These were individuals who had lost their dignity and become estranged from the supernal holiness that gives Israel its life force. These lost souls could not be uplifted by shemitah – but Yovel comes to emancipate even them, to restore their splendor and holiness, and revive their pride in holy life. As our Sages tell us, “They would eat, drink, and rejoice, and wear crowns on their heads like free people.” Yovel was a time of equanimity and brotherhood. Absent was the grievance, the violence and the vengeance that usually occur in connection with slaves being freed.

The same dynamic expresses itself in Yovel’s restoration of ancestral lands. While the concept may be foreign to the modern mind, which regards land as just another commodity, in Biblical times selling one’s ancestral land was an unimaginable tragedy. It was a step that only the desperately poor would take, and even then only out of total desperation.[2]With land representing the major source of wealth, a person who sold their ancestral land in Biblical times usually condemned themselves to a life of destitute poverty. Yovel doesn’t only restore these individuals physically to their land. It straightens out the inequalities of the past, and repairs the apparent injustice that results when certain people are condemned to abject poverty while others prosper and grow wealthy. This is not a prospective vision, like that of shemitah, but one that seeks to rectify the past as well.

Although the spiritual vision of Yovel is more ambitious than the shemitah cycles that proceed it, the two have a symbiotic relationship. One cannot leap to higher levels of holiness without laying a foundation and attaining the necessary intermediate stages. Israel can only come to Yovel by going through the transformative spiritual process of shemitah beforehand. Year after year, cycle after cycle, the shemitah process transforms Israel, restores it to its holy Source and the deepens its Divine character. Until eventually, the holy nation seeks not only to correct its path going forward, but even to rectify even past shortcomings, failures, and injustices.

“And you shall count for yourself seven shemitah years, seven years seven times. And the days of these seven shemitah years shall amount to forty-nine years for you. And you shall sanctify the fiftieth year, and proclaim freedom [for slaves] throughout the land for all who live on it. It shall be a Yovel for you, and you shall return, each man to his property, and you shall return, each man to his family.”

[1]This may be a Torah source for the aseret yemei teshuva.

[2]See Melachim Aleph, 21, where Navot declares “G-d forbid that I would give the inheritance of my forefathers to you!”

Food for Thought

Rav Hirsch (Commentary on the Torah): The Yovel year…. [is] to bring the social and political rebirth of the nation with all its healing and restoring effect on the internal and external relations of the nation, as a miraculous gift from G-d’s Almighty Grace. All the wrongs and the whole diversity of different classes with its resulting contrasts of opulence and wretchedness, of independence and dependence, which the unequal distribution of wealth have brought to the internal social life of the nation, all the precarious situations unto which the nation has fallen in its political relations to other states, all this, Yovel is to wipe out and clear up. The nation is again to be established by the Grace of G-d, socially healthy, and politically free, even as it was on the first day its national life was started on the basis of G-d’s laws. It is to progress in this fresh internal and external freedom and independence granted afresh by G-d, from Yovel to Yovel, until it reaches the goal where its national life shines forth so brightly amongst the other peoples of the world, that it invites all the nations to throng to it, to learn from it the institutions of G-d, which alone guarantee justice and freedom and eternal peace on earth. But this great national rebirth of the nation, to be obtained from G-d, must be met on the other side by the two great acts of restitution and regeneration which are in human hands: restoration of ancestral lands and freeing slaves, and both not as human-political measures, but proclaimed by shofar blasts in the Name of G-d, as the effect of the justice of His Rule and of His fundamental right of possession.

Questions for Discussion/Further Thought

  1. Does Yovel indicate the Torah’s opposition to economic inequality? Why or why not?
  2. The Torah refers to Yovel as ‘Shabbat.’ How does Rav Kook understand this comparison?
  3. How does a person who is growing spiritually relate to their future? To their past?
  4. The Torah says that in Yovel, we are to “Proclaim freedom throughout the land to all its inhabitants.” What famous American artifact bears this verse? Do you think Rav Kook would agree with its use?
  5. Does Yovel teach us anything about how we should observe Shabbat?
  6. Does Rav Kook’s analysis of Yovel and shemitah remind you about any concepts related to teshuva?

The Midst of the Community – Parshat Emor

Number of Jews in Israel and worldwide on the rise - reports - The ...

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Rav Kook (Ein Ayah, Gemara Berachot 21b)

[Translation based on Rabbi Chanan Morrison’s “Gold From the Land of Israel”]

You shall not desecrate My Holy Name. I shall be sanctified amidst the children of Israel. I am the Lord Who sanctifies you. (Vayikra 22:32)

In Judaism, an individual can pray in solitude, but the highest form of prayer takes place in a minyan. Certain special tefilot regarded as a sanctification of G-d’s name (such as kedushah and kaddish) may only be said when ten men are present. Otherwise, these parts of the liturgy must be omitted. The gemara (Berachot 21b) derives the requirement for a minyan from G-d’s declaration in this week’s parshah that “I will be sanctified in the midst (lit. תוך) of Israel.” The gemara notes that this word appears again when G-d warns against Korach’s rebellious band, declaring to the rest of Israel “Separate yourselves from the midst of this eidah (community)” (Bamidbar 16:20). From here, we learn that G-d is sanctified within an eidah, which itself is defined by reference to the ten spies who brought a negative report of the Land of Israel. The Torah refers to that group of ten people as an “eidah ra’ah,” an evil community (Bamidbar. 14:26). Thus, we see that G-d is sanctified in a community of at least ten members.

This is extremely puzzling. First of all, why is the requirement for a minyan, a positive spiritual encounter with the Divine, derived precisely from two classic examples of infamous rebellion against G-d — the spies and Korach? And why is a minyan needed for anything in the first place? Why isn’t prayer an exclusively private matter between a person as his Maker?

To resolve these difficulties, we need to understand the nature of holiness. Holiness can come from our natural aspirations for spiritual growth and perfection. However, the desire to perfect ourselves — even spiritually — is not true holiness. Our goal should not be the fulfillment of our own personal needs, no matter how lofty, but rather to honor and sanctify our Maker. Genuine holiness is an altruistic striving for good for its own sake, not out of self-interest.

Now, the essence of Divine service is to advance G-d’s will, which is to advance the welfare of His creations and to bestow kindness upon them. One who does not join with the community, who does contribute to and uplift its welfare, cannot lay claim to holiness. Therefore, kedushah, kaddish, and certain other prayers may not be said in private. Without a community to benefit and elevate, the individual cannot attain true holiness.

This special connection between the individual and society is signified by the number ten. Ten is the first number that is also a group, a collection of units forming a new unit. Therefore, the minimum number of members for a quorum is ten.

As for why we learn this lesson from the wicked, it is precisely the punishment of the wicked that sheds light on the reward of the righteous. If the only result of evil was that the wicked corrupt themselves, it would be unnecessary for the law to be so severe with one who is only hurting himself. However, it is part of human nature that we influence others and are influenced by our surroundings. Unfortunately, evil people have a negative influence on the entire community, and it is for this reason that they are punished so severely.

Understanding why the wicked are punished clarifies why the righteous are rewarded. Just as the former are punished principally due to their negative influence on the community, so too, the reward of the righteous is due primarily to their positive influence. Now it becomes clear that true holiness is in the context of the organic whole. And certain prayers sanctifying G-d’s Name may only be recited in a minyan, with a representative community of ten members.

Food for Thought

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Commentary on Pirkei Avot): It is not through the individual, but through the community and through the congregation which represent that community on a smaller scale, that Judaism lives on forever. Besides, it was not the Jewish individual but the Kehilath Ya’akov, the Jewish community that God appointed as the bearer of His sacred cause. Therefore the Jewish individual can fulfill his true purpose only in communion with the congregation, and accordingly he is earnestly admonished not to separate himself from the congregation, but to cleave to it in both joy and sorrow, to share its burdens and to help it discharge its tasks.

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Commentary on the Siddur): Thus it is only from the hands of the community that any individual at any time is given his task, and it is only within the framework of his community that he can fulfill it. For the mission reaches far beyond the limited physical, moral and intellectual capacity of the short-lived individual. But a community cannot die; a community can do all things. It is only within the framework of a community that all limitations can be compensated for, that wants can be supplied, and therefore the individual can discharge his task only as part of that community. It is for this reason that only a very few of our prayers were written specifically for individuals; most of them are phrased in the plural form…

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (Community of Faith:

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Nineteen Letters): It was not with just one word, one summons of creation, that the Almighty brought this world into being [based on Pirkei Avot 5:1], the whole of it and every detail; for if it had been created in this manner, everything would be directly dependent upon G-d’s Word for its existence, life, and functioning. Instead, He called forth His world into existence in ten stages; He created an abundance of forces, intermingled and functioning closely together, according to His Word – and then He separated them, so that each had to sustain the other: none was henceforth able to exist and function by itself, but had to be sustained by its fellow creatures and, in turn, had to help them exist and function. In this way everything contributes according to its strength, however much or little, to the existence of the whole; and if it destroys a fellow creature, it robs itself of what it needs for its own existence.

Questions for Discussion/Further Thought

  1. What other reasons might there be for the concept of a minyan?
  2. Where else in Torah does the centrality of the community express itself?
  3. How can we stay connected to the Jewish community when we are unable to assemble and daven together?
  4. How do we strike the right balance in Jewish life between serving the community and focusing on one’s self?
  5. Can you think of a time that you felt particularly connected to the Jewish community?

To Love is to Live – Acharei Mot/Kedoshim

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It’s good to be back!

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Rav Kook (Based on Midot haRe’iah, Ahavah 1, 3 and 5)

You shall love your fellow as yourself, I am the Lord. (Vayikra 19:18)

Love for all of G-d’s creations must precede love for every member of humanity, and only after that can one ascend to love of Israel (“ahavat Yisrael”). One must understand that ahavat Yisrael does not stand in contradiction to love of humanity, which is encompassed and subsumed within it. For Israel’s Divinely-appointed destiny is to rectify and repair all of existence, and thus true ahavat Yisrael requires a universal love. Thus, we must strive to advance the physical and spiritual welfare of all nations. Without an inner love of humanity that pervades its entire being, Israel will never advance towards its ultimate calling – “Give praise to G-d, call out in His name, make His greatness known amongst all nations” (Tehillim 105:1).

Our love for all of humanity also draws on the constant outpouring of Divine light that rests upon every created being. As King David declared in Psalms (33:5), “G-d’s kindness fills the earth.” That is, everything exists through G-d’s kindness and contributes to His splendor. To despise, to hate means to deny the Divine kindness that sustains the object of one’s hatred.

We have hatred only for the wickedness and spiritual pollution from which the world has not yet been cleansed. Anywhere in our tradition that we find expressions of hatred and contempt for the nations of the world, we must know that such sentiments are directed only at the points wickedness therein. But sparks of life, of light and holiness, have always been present in the tzelem Elokim possessed by all of humanity, by every nation in accordance with its measure. All of this, Israel knows, with deep confidence, purity of faith and holy resolve.

Food for Thought

Tanya (Likutei Amarim, Chapter 32): Even with regard to those who are close to him, and whom he has rebuked, yet they had not repented of their sins, in which case he is enjoined to hate them, there still remains the duty to love them also, and both are right: hatred, because of the wickedness in them; and love on account of the aspect of the hidden good in them, which is the Divine spark in them, which animates their Divine soul. He should also awaken pity in his heart for her [the Divine soul], for she is held captive, as it were, in the evil of the sitra achra that triumphs over her in wicked people. Compassion destroys hatred and awakens love, as is known from the [interpretation of the] text, “To Jacob who redeemed Abraham.”

A Story About Rav Kook (from R. Aryeh Levine): I recall the early days, after 1905, when G-d granted me the privilege to ascend to the Holy Land; and I arrived at Jaffa. There I first merited meeting our great master, Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook (of blessed memory), who greeted me with good cheer, as was his sacred custom to receive all people. We chatted together on various Torah topics. After an early minchah, he went out, as was his custom, to stroll a bit in the fields and collect his thoughts. I accompanied him. During the walk, I plucked a twig or a flower. Our great master was taken aback when he saw this. He told me gently: “Believe me — in all my days, I have been careful never to pluck a blade of grass or flower needlessly, when it had the ability to grow or blossom… Every sprout and leaf of grass says something, conveys some meaning. Every stone whispers its inner message in its silence. Every creature utters its song [of praise for the Creator].” Those words, spoken from a pure and holy heart, engraved themselves deeply on my heart. From then on, I began to feel a strong sense of compassion for all things.

Samson Raphael Hirsch (Chorev, Pg. 53): I, the Lord, the personification of love, am Father of all beings around you, have called them all, like you, to life and well-being. If you love Me, and because you Love me, love My children; rejoice in their well-being, see in each My work, My child, in his welfare the prospering of My work and My child, in his woe the decay of My work, the suffering of My child. Love therefore the master in the work, the father in the child… How do you raise yourself above the stone and the plant and the animal? Is it not through devoting yourself of your own free will to the welfare of the world around you? And this is just what love effects. Your whole activity belongs to G-d’s world… Carry love in your heart; it is this which makes you a man and an Israelite. This love in you, if it is genuine, expresses itself in deeds with which, to the best of your ability, you promote the progress of the world around you to that state of welfare in which your love requires that you should desire to behold it.

Lubavitcher Rebbe: When there is love of G‑d but not love of Torah and love of Israel, this means that the love of G‑d is also lacking. On the other hand, when there is love of a fellow Jew, this will eventually bring also a love of Torah and a love of G‑d… So if you see a person who has a love of G‑d but lacks a love of Torah and a love of his fellow, you must tell him that his love of G‑d is incomplete. And if you see a person who has only a love for his fellow, you must strive to bring him to a love of Torah and a love of G‑d — that his love toward his fellows should not only be expressed in providing bread for the hungry and water for the thirsty, but also to bring them close to Torah and to G‑d.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (Covenant and Conversation 5778): The opening chapter of Kedoshim contains two of the most powerful of all commands: to love your neighbour and to love the stranger. “Love your neighbour as yourself: I am the Lord” goes the first. “When a stranger comes to live in your land, do not mistreat him,” goes the second, and continues, “Treat the stranger the way you treat your native-born. Love him as yourself, for you were strangers in Egypt. I am the Lord your G-d. The first is often called the “golden rule” and held to be universal to all cultures. This is a mistake. The golden rule is different. In its positive formulation it states, “Act toward others as you would wish them to act toward you,” or in its negative formulation, given by Hillel, “What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbour.” These rules are not about love. They are about justice, or more precisely, what evolutionary psychologists call reciprocal altruism. The Torah does not say, “Be nice or kind to your neighbour, because you would wish him to be nice or kind to you.” It says, “Love your neighbour.” That is something different and far stronger.

The second command is more radical still. Most people in most societies in most ages have feared, hated and often harmed the stranger. There is a word for this: xenophobia. How often have you heard the opposite word: xenophilia? My guess is, never. People don’t usually love strangers. That is why, almost always when the Torah states this command – which it does, according to the sages, 36 times – it adds an explanation: “because you were strangers in Egypt.” I know of no other nation that was born as a nation in slavery and exile. We know what it feels like to be a vulnerable minority. That is why love of the stranger is so central to Judaism and so marginal to most other systems of ethics. But here too, the Torah does not use the word “justice.” There is a command of justice toward strangers, but that is a different law: “You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him” (Ex. 22:20). Here the Torah speaks not of justice but of love. These two commands define Judaism as a religion of love – not just of G-d (“with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your might”), but of humanity also. That was and is a world-changing idea.

Samson Raphael Hirsch (Chorev, Pg. 25, 159): “To love” means to feel one’s own being only through and in the being of another. “To love G-d,” therefore, means to feel that one’s own existence and activity are rendered possible and obtain value and significance only through G-d and in G-d. You exist and are something only to strive to reach G-d—that is, to perform His will. To love G-d only through G-d; and therefore in all that you are and do, you have and to love His Torah is the same thing; for to love G-d means nothing until you begin to love His Torah.

Questions for Discussion

  1. See Rav Hirsch in Food For Thought, above. Is he expressing the exact same point as Rav Kook? If not, how are their views different?
  2. What does it mean to have a tzelem Elokim?
  3. How does Rav Kook address the problem of loving all of humanity in a world still filled with evil and wickedness?
  4. Rav Kook writes that no person or nation can never lose their tzelem Elokim. Do you agree? Why or why not?
  5. What are different ways to express ahavat Yisrael? To express love for humanity?
  6. Does our generation have an easier or harder time than our ancestors in cultivating ahavat Yisrael? In cultivating love for humanity? Why or why not?
  7. Does the term “fellow” in “Love your fellow as yourself” include non-Jews as well? Or only Jews?