The Real World and the Ideal World – Parshat Ki Teitzei

Printable PDF available here. Last year’s piece on Ki Teitzei is available here.

**Rav Kook (Based on Pinkesei haRe’iah, 1:34)**

If you go out to war against your enemies, and the Lord, your G-d, will deliver them into your hands, and you take captives, and you see among the captives a beautiful woman and you desire her, you may take [her] for yourself as a wife. (Devarim 21:10-11)

According to our tradition, the entire law of the non-Jewish captive wife (lit. yefat to’ar) is a concession to the yetzer ha’ra. In the heat of battle, the Torah allowed soldiers to indulge their desires and provided a legal framework for doing so. It suspended the normal prohibition against relations with non-Jewish women, because G-d deemed it impossible to uphold the normal standards of sexual morality in this context.

The entire law of the yefat to’ar is strange, and has bothered many great Jewish thinkers. Suppressing and channeling one’s physical desires is central to Torah life, and the Torah is not in the habit of granting indulgences. Why does the Torah make an exception here?

The answer is that we have to understand the parshah of the yefat to’ar in its broader context. The midrash, cited by Rashi, declares that there is no dispensation to have relations with a yefat to’ar in a milchemet mitzvah – i.e. a war conducted for the purpose of conquering Eretz Yisrael, for self-defense, or certain other ‘principled’ reasons. The law of yefat to’ar applies only applies in a milchemet ha’reshut – that is, a discretionary war undertaken to conquer land for political or economic reasons.

The very existence of milchemet ha’reshut indicates that humanity [1] has not yet reached the highest level of ethical development and moral clarity. Ultimately, humanity is supposed to realize that spilling blood for political ends is wicked and shameful. But until that time, G-d demands that we deal with reality as it is, and not as we yearn for it to be. G-d does not demand of Israel that it adopt a pacifist stance in the face of other nations who still hold firm to the sword, who amass bombs and tanks and other tools of bloodshed. Israel is thus permitted to engage in warfare for political ends, and thus deal with other nations ‘on their level.’

However, G-d demands that we understand this reality as a concession, and never as an ideal. Even while involved in the world of warfare, we must retain our yearning for the day when all nations “will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks, when nation shall not lift the sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore” (Isaiah 2:4).

The law of yefat to’ar is the Torah’s way of cultivating sensitivity to the ideal in a less than ideal world. It does not take great sensitivity to realize that the matter of the yefat to’ar is a shameful concession to the yetzer ha’ra. Even in a world that hasn’t yet attained clarity about the immorality of warfare for political ends, this should be clear. By embedding the law of the yefat to’ar in a parshah about warfare, the Torah is telling us as follows – “Just as it is obvious that you need to rise above the dispensation of the yefat to’ar, it is equally incumbent on you to rise above the shamefulness of warfare and its bloodshed.”

[1] The parshah of yefat to’ar is directed at the Jewish people – so how does Rav Kook see it as reflecting on the moral stature of all humanity? The answer seems to be that Rav Kook has an unspoken premise here, one that he articulates explicitly in many other places. He believes that Israel’s ethical sensitivity outshines that of all other nations. It cannot be that humanity has reached a level of clarity where it realizes the shamefulness of milchemet ha’reshut, but Israel has not.

Food for Thought

R. Nissim b. Adahan (Morocco, 1846-1926): The matter of yefat to’ar is commonly explained as a dispensation to the yetzer ha’ra. G-d knew that Israel would not be able to uphold the highest standards of sexual morality in warfare, and so he permitted the yefat to’ar. However, it seems that the opposite is true. Much of the desire for prohibited things comes from the very fact that they are prohibited. As Mishlei teaches, “Stolen waters are sweet.” Permitting the yefat to’ar is actually the Torah’s means of taking away the yetzer ha’ra for the yefat to’ar. [Note – various Chasidic thinkers (the Toldos Ya’akov Yosef, the Kotzker, and Chiddushei haRim all make the same point in slightly different way.]

Daniel Greenfield (Contemporary): In our modern age… the truly moral army never fights a war. When it must fight a war, then it fights it as proportionately as possible, slowing down when it’s winning so that the enemy has a chance to catch up and inflict a completely proportional number of casualties on them. Forget charging up a hill. Armies charge up the slippery slope of the moral high ground and they don’t try to capture it from the enemy, because that would be the surest way to lose the moral high ground, instead they claim the moral high ground by refusing to try and capture it, to establish their moral claim to the moral high ground…

Sadly, the only way to win the moral high ground is by losing. Just look at the massive Arab armies who repeatedly invaded Israel, did their best to overwhelm it with the best Soviet iron that the frozen factories of the Ural could turn out, and lost the bid to drive the Jews into the sea, but won the moral high ground. Then their terrorist catspaws spent decades winning the moral high ground by hijacking airplanes full of civilians, murdering Olympic athletes and pushing old men in wheelchairs from the decks of cruise ships. All these killing sprees accomplished absolutely nothing useful… but that failure won the terrorist catspaws the moral high ground. Their failure to win a war by hijacking buses full of women and taking the children of a school hostage conclusively established their moral superiority and nobility of spirit….

But the moral high ground proved notoriously elusive for the Jewish State. There was a brief lull [with the Oslo accords]… but then the terrorists started killing Israelis again and the Israelis insisted on fighting back. In no time at all the moral high ground was roped off with a special reserved section for terrorists and a sign reading, “No Israelis Will Be Admitted Unless They Renounce Their Government, Zionism and the Right of Self-Defense”…

Israel’s solution has been to fight limited wars while remaining absolutely committed to peace. No sooner does a war begin, then it is pressed to accept a ceasefire. To show its commitment to peace, Israel is expected to accept the ceasefire. At which point Hamas will begin shooting rockets again and the whole dance will begin all over again. But Israel has trouble refusing a ceasefire because its leaders still believe that they can get at the moral high ground by showing that they are more committed to peace than the other side. The peace is however unwinnable. It’s not even survivable in the long term. Peace either exists as a given condition or it is maintained by strong armies and ready deterrence. Peace cannot be found on the moral high ground, only the mountains of the graves of the dead.

The father of an Israeli soldier told his son after he was called up for duty that he would rather visit him in prison than visit him in the cemetery. “If you are fired on, fire back.” That is good advice not just for that young man, but for his entire country, and for the civilized world. It is better to fire than be fired upon. It is better to be thought a criminal, than mourned in Holocaust museums. It is better to leave the moral high ground to those who worship the romance of endless bloodshed and defeat. It is better to lose the peace and win the war.

Rav Kook (Orot haMilchamah, 3): We left world politics by force of circumstance that (nevertheless) contains an inner volition, until a fortunate time will come, when it will be possible to conduct a nation without wickedness and barbarism – this is the time we hope for. It is understood that in order to achieve this, we must awaken with all of our powers to use all the media that time makes available – all is conducted by the hand of G-d, Creator of all worlds. However, the delay is a necessary one; we were repulsed by the awful sins of conducting a nation in an evil time. Behold, the time is approaching, the world will be invigorated and we can already prepare ourselves, for it will already be possible for us to conduct our nation by principles of good, wisdom, rectitude, and clear divine enlightenment…. “Let my master pass before his servant.” It is not worthwhile for Jacob to engage in statecraft when it must be full of blood, when it requires an ability for wickedness. We received but the foundation, enough to found a people, but once the trunk was established, we were deposed, strewn among the nations, planted in the depths of the earth, until the time of song arrives and the voice of the turtledove will be heard in our land.

Shelah (Parshat Ki Teizeit, דרך חיים תוכחת מוסר): The notion of a dispensation to the yetzer ha’ra is not limited to the yefat to’ar. There are many things that the Torah permits which are less than ideal, and it is incumbent upon a spiritual person to be discerning and sanctify himself even in matters that are permitted.

Questions for Discussion/Food for Thought

What distinguishes an unjust or immoral war from one that is just and moral?
Is there anything good about war? Or is it entirely bad?
See Daniel Greenfield, excerpted above in “Food for Thought.” Do you think Rav Kook would agree with him, or is he going farther than Rav Kook would? Also, do you think that Mr. Greenfield’s views are consistent with Torah Judaism? Why or why not?
According to Rav Kook, the mere fact that the Torah gives someone the right to do something doesn’t make it right. Can you think of any other Torah laws that might illustrate this principle?
Is there a ‘slippery slope’ behind distinguishing between what the Torah permits and what it considers an ideal?
How can we cultivate sensitivity to our ideals in situations where it is not possible to fully implement them in practice?

Worlds of Halacha, Worlds of Aggadah – Parshat Shoftim

Printable PDF available here.

**Rav Kook (Based on Igrot haRe’iah Vol. 2, 123)**

If a matter eludes you in judgment… then you shall rise and go up to the place the Lord, your G-d, chooses.And you shall come to the Levites, the Kohanim and to the judge who will be in those days, and you shall inquire, and they will tell you the matter of judgment. (Devarim 17:9)

Torah is comprised by two different disciplines – aggadah and halacha. The latter deals with practical conduct, while the former addresses the wisdom of the heart and the realm of ideas. Each of them derives their vigor from different roots of our holy Torah. Halacha comes from intellectual, cognitive wisdom (lit. חכמה), while the world of aggadah draws upon prophecy.

The role of prophecy in halachic adjudication has not yet been charted with satisfactory precision. Granted, the Talmud records the principle that the power of halachic decision making “is not in heaven” Bava Metzia 59), and this is cited by the Rambam in Mishnah Torah as an absolute rule. However, Rambam’s extreme formulation was not adopted by many other great rabbinic figures, and there are many sources in Chazal with which it is not easily reconciled.

It would seem more accurate that the exclusion of prophecy from the halachic process is only general rule, with various exceptions and qualifications. Indeed, the very first mishnah in Avot, which teaches that the zekeinim passed the Torah tradition onto the Nevi’im, highlights the role of prophets in the transmission of the Oral Torah. It seems overly contrived to insist that these links in the chain of our mesorah were prophets only by happenstance, and that their prophetic powers had no role to play in the Torah that they learned and taught. There are also Talmudic passages (such as Zevachim 62a) that refer to the involvement of prophets in halachic decisions.

And even if prophecy is disqualified from formally resolving halachic disputes, it is evident that the inner character of halachic study is molded and shaped by prophecy. For this reason, we find that the discourage of the Sages of Eretz Yisrael, the only place where prophecy is possible, was shorter and more straightforward than that the Babylonian sages. The latter required a lengthy and complex dialectic to clarify matters of Torah law, a style that is familiar to anyone who has ever studied the Babylonian Talmud. However, as the “atmosphere of Eretz Yisrael confers wisdom” (Bava Basra, 158b), the Sages who lived in the holy land perceived Torah truths with a calm, inner intuition and a broadness of mind. Thus, unlike the expression commonly found in the Talmud Yerushalmi, “Ta chazi” or “Ta chami” (“Come and see”), the Babylonian Talmud uses the expression “Ta shema” (“Come and hear”). “Ta shema” indicates a greater distance from the source, analogous to the difference between the clarity of that which is seen as opposed to that which is only heard.

This matter finds expression in a fascinating dispute between the Babylonian Talmud and the Talmud Yerushalmi. Parshat Shoftim describes the responsibility to consult the Sanhedrin on disputed matters of Torah law (lit. דבר המשפט), and the eventual punishment of a rebellious Sage who refuses to accept the Sanhedrin’s authority. While the Babylonian Talmud (Sanhedrin 87a) teaches that the word “דבר” is a reference to halacha, the Talmud Yerushalmi teaches that it refers to aggadah. Evidently, the Sages of Eretz Yisrael were able to conceive of binding, authoritative resolution to matters of aggadah, but the Babylonian Sages were not. The latter were too removed from the inner spiritual intuition of prophetic consciousness for that to be a realistic possibility. As noted earlier, their discourse was characterized by meticulous intellectual reasoning; this approach bears great fruit when applied to halacha, to matters of practical conduct, but it is incapable to drawing definitive conclusions in the realm of aggadah, which flows from the inner wisdom of the heart and the realm of ideas.

The written Torah also alludes to these two different approaches. In Parshat Shoftim, the Torah commands “You shall approach the Levite/the Kohen and the judge who will be at that time.” Why mention both the Kohen and the judge? The answer is that their roles were not the same. Judges practices the halachic approach of the Babylonian sages, and worked with a process of clear and methodical deductive reasoning. Granted, the Kohanim also used their intellect (as halacha is not a magical, esoteric process), but also drew upon ruach ha’kodesh and higher spiritual inspiration to clarify the halacha. This is particularly true of the Kohen Gadol, who required Divine inspiration in order to consult with the Urim and Tumim.

To our sadness, we no longer have prophecy and as a result, the maximalist interpretation of Torah “not being in heaven” is the one we must follow. We no longer have the inner clarity and spiritual intuition embodied the Talmud Yerushalmi, and so our approach to halacha is based on the Babylonian Sages and the Babylonian Talmud. But with the return of Israel to the Land of Israel, we eagerly look forward to the day when Torah can return to its full splendor.

Food for Thought

Rabbi Asaf Bednarsh (Har Etzion Virtual Beit Midrash): According to one answer in Tosafot, the general rule is that we do, in fact, decide the halakha based on a heavenly voice or other supernatural proof. Only in the case of the “Oven of Akhnai, where R. Eliezer demanded explicitly that a heavenly voice attest to the correctness of his opinion, do we suspect that the heavenly voice might have fibbed in order to preserve the honor of R. Eliezer. Tosafot assumes that G-d is so concerned for the honor of Torah scholars that He would even send out a false message to protect R. Eliezer’s honor – even though R. Eliezer foolishly backed himself into a corner by demanding heavenly evidence – and that G-d would rely on the assembled Sages to know better than to heed this white lie (and, indeed, they did know better).

According to the second opinion in Tosafot, we accept the conclusion of the story of the “Oven of Akhnai” and assume that supernatural evidence cannot override the normal workings of the halakhic process. The heavenly voice that favored R. Eliezer has no authority to override the principle of majority rule that was referenced by R. Yehoshua. However, we do grant authority to the heavenly voice that decided in favor of Beit Hillel, because, as mentioned in the gemara there, there was no clear majority on the side of Beit Shammai. Beit Hillel was numerically larger than Beit Shammai, but it was universally acknowledged that the Sages of Beit Shammai were sharper that those of Beit Hillel. Apparently, Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel disagreed regarding the question of whether the halakha should follow the school with the larger population or the one with more intellectual prowess. This created a logical conundrum, for according to Beit Hillel’s opinion, Beit Hillel was in the majority and therefore should be followed, but according to Beit Shammai, Beit Shammai constituted the majority and their opinion must be followed. In such a case, where the standard halakhic process has no way of resolving the dispute, there is room for a heavenly voice to intervene and tell us what to decide.

According to this opinion, supernatural evidence does have authority within the halakhic process, but only when it does not contradict the accepted rules of halakhic decision making.

The Rambam seems to have a third opinion about the scope of this principle. He writes that if anyone were to bring supernatural proof to buttress a claim that we should add, subtract, or modify a mitzva of the Torah, he is to be considered a false prophet and is liable to receive the death penalty. Likewise, adds the Rambam, even if this person were merely to claim that the halakha should follow a particular side of a dispute, he is considered a false prophet, because he contradicts the principle of lo ba-shamayim hi. The Rambam thus assumes that the principle of lo ba-shamayim hi is universal and allows no exceptions. Even in the case of an unresolved halakhic dispute, where there may be no clear halakhic precedent that dictates whom the halakha should follow, it is anathema to bring supernatural evidence and involve the Heavens in an earthly halakhic dispute.

According to the Rambam, the heavenly voice that favored Beit Hillel is granted no authority whatsoever. We must therefore conclude that the halakha follows Beit Hillel not because of any heavenly voice, but rather because the majority of Sages in the later generations agreed with the logic of Beit Hillel, in accordance with the normal halakhic process.

Mountain Climbing – Parshat Re’eh

Printable PDF is available here. Last year’s piece of Parshat Re’eh is available here.

Please share with friends and anyone who might be interested!

Rav Kook (She’muot Re’iah, excerpted in P’ninei ha’Re’iah)

But only to the place which the Lord your G-d shall choose from all your tribes, to set His Name there; you shall seek after His dwelling and come there. (Devarim 5:12)

David and Shmuel noted that the pasuk says “Then you shall arise, and get you up unto the place which the Lord your G-d shall choose” (Devarim 17:8). This teaches that the Temple is higher than all places in Eretz Yisrael. And Eretz Yisrael is higher than all countries… … They thought to build the Mikdash at Ein Eitam, which is higher than any other place in the portion of Benjamin. Then they said: Let us lower it a bit, as it is written: “He hovers above it throughout the day, and He dwells between his shoulders” (Devarim 33:12). This indicates that the Temple is situated slightly lower, between two peaks…

And with regard to this matter, that David and Shmuel discovered the location of the Temple, Doeg the Edomite[1]was jealous of David, as it is written: “Because jealousy for Your House has eaten me up” (Tehillim 69:10), and it is written: “Lord, remember for David all his affliction; how he swore to the Lord, and vowed unto the Mighty One of Jacob: I will not come into the tent of my house, nor go up into the bed that is spread for me; if I will give sleep to my eyes, or slumber to my eyelids; until I find a place for the Lord, a dwelling place for the Mighty One of Jacob” (Tehillim 132:1–5). (Gemara Zevachim 54b)

What exactly was the point of contention between David and Doeg regarding the proper location of the Mikdash? Chazal teach us (Gemara Sanhedrin 93b) that Doeg was not a mere ignoramus, but the head of the Sanhedrin itself and – until he became corrupt and wicked – a towering spiritual personality. And why did David originally agree with Doeg’s position but later change his mind? This must be more than a mere dispute about the Biblical zoning codes, or else our Sages would not have recorded it for posterity. What is the lesson for us?

The matter seems as follows. Doeg believed that the sanctity of the Mikdash was meant to be supernal. Its holiness was to hover above our world, inaccessible and beyond the reach of the average person. Fundamentally, Doeg claimed, the sanctity of the Mikdash was for the spiritual elite – primarily the Kohanim – and was not a democratic in nature. The location he chose for the Mikdash, at the highest point in Jerusalem, was simply the physical reflection of his elitist ideological program.

David knew differently. He realized that holiness was meant as the heritage of the entire Jewish people. The Mikdash was not meant for the Kohanim, but the entire Jewish people. And while it was true that the Kohanim were the religious elite of the nation, their spiritual stature was not for their own aggrandizement, but was intended to flow outward, inspiring and uplifting the rest of the people. Thus, while only a portion of the nation can serve in the Mikdash as Kohanim, the entire nation is called upon to become a “kingdom of Kohanim and a holy nation” (Shemot 19:6).

[1] Doeg was a member of Shaul’s court and is mentioned in Shmuel Aleph (Perakim 21 and 22) where he is depicted as an antagonist of David who murdered many Kohanim. Chazal teach that he is one of the few people who forfeited their portion in Olam ha’Ba.

Food for Thought

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Commentary on the Siddur): The holy is set apart from the profane only to show that it is from the holy that the spirit of sanctity and sanctification should go out to permeate all the other phases of human life. That which is shut off from the light is so separated only that, under the cover of darkness, it may gather new strength in order then, suffused with light, to be awakened to new life and vigor. Yisrael, too, is set apart from the other nations only so that, through Yisrael, the rest of the nations may be won over to an ever-increasing extent to the truths it has revealed.

Rav Eliahu Dessler (Michtav M’Eliyahu Vol. 3, Pg. 356-357): [T]he Lithuanian yeshivos focused on a single goal – to create great Torah scholars who were also G-d fearing people. To accomplish this, they prohibited going to university. They realized that there was no other way to produce great Torah scholars except by concentrating all their students’ energies and desires exclusively to learning Torah. Don’t think that they didn’t realize from the beginning that this approach would ruin some who would not be able to deal with this extreme lifestyle and would consequently leave religious observance. But this is the price that they paid for the sake of producing in their schools great Torah scholars who were G‑d fearing… [T]hose who had a strong desire to learn a profession and surely those were interested in become academics were completely abandoned and not dealt with at all. This rejection was done so that the actions of these students wouldn’t harm others by giving them any legitimacy by trying to help them in any way. I heard that they found support for such an approach by the statement found in Vayikra Rabba (2:10) – “One thousand students enter to study Bible and only one comes out as a posek, and G-d says ‘That is the one I desire.’” They also mentioned the words of the Rambam in Moreh Nevuchim that “It is better that 1000 fools die in order to obtain one Torah scholar.”

Joshua Berman (Created Equal: How the Bible Broke with Ancient Political Thought, pg. 67-68): The election of the priests and Levites is nowhere given metaphysical basis. Plato justified the hierarchy of Greek societies on the grounds that the gods had differentiated the souls of different classes of persons. The Bible knows of no such discourse… their election is a reflection not of their innate status but of G-d’s. As a sovereign kind, He is worthy of an honor guard, of servants set aside as His attendants.

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Collected Writings, Vol. 2 Pg. 240): A minority should never tolerate that its cause should become its raison d’etre, become the spiritual monopoly of only a few initiates. By doing so, it would endanger its very survival. Once it inhibits the spiritual flow of research and knowledge within its ranks, it allows its members to drift into the majority that is always ready to receive them.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (Yisro, 5774): Every nation had its priests. In the book of Genesis, we encounter Malkizedek, Abraham’s contemporary, described as “a priest of the most-high G-d” (Gen. 14: 18). The story of Joseph mentions the Egyptian priests, whose land was not nationalized. Yitro was a Midianite priest. In the ancient world there was nothing distinctive about priesthood. Every nation had its priests and holy men. What was distinctive about Israel was that it was to become a nation every one of whose members was to be a priest; each of whose citizens was called on to be holy.

I vividly recall standing with Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz in the General Assembly of the United Nations in August 2000 at a unique gathering of two thousand religious leaders representing all the major faiths in the world. I pointed out that even in that distinguished company we were different. We were almost the only religious leaders wearing suits. All the others wore robes of office. It is an almost universal phenomenon that priests and holy people wear distinctive garments to indicate that they are set apart (the core meaning of the word kadosh, “holy”). In post-biblical Judaism there were no robes of office because everyone was expected to be holy. (Theophrastus, a pupil of Aristotle, called Jews “a nation of philosophers,” reflecting the same idea.)

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Collected Writings Vol. 2, pg. 436): Look upon these men as they pass through the growing darkness of the ages, see what they meant to us and what they accomplished, and then try to find even one parallel to their character and to their achievements! Search the whole earth, if you will, for another nation to whom the elements of spirit, thought and knowledge were not merely reserved for individual thinkers but became the very soul of an entire nation! Look for another nation whose collective intellectual bent labored with unflagging zeal for one and a half millennia to develop one single area of knowledge, a nation within which knowledge was not merely the prerogative of a few ivory-tower thinkers, the kind comforter of philosophers behind prison bars, but the consolation, the wealth, the strength and the inspiration of an entire people.

Talmudology Blog: This passage is unequivocal in its meaning: Jerusalem – that is, the Temple Mount – is the highest place in Israel, and Israel itself is the highest place on earth. Now you don’t need me to tell you that this is not a true statement. But I will anyway. It’s not true. After a quick check in your reference book or internet search engine of choice you will see this is not correct. It’s not even close. (I’m talking to you, Denver). The Maharsha (1555-1631) in his commentary to Kiddushin 69a suggests that since the Earth is a sphere, Israel and Jerusalem can be seen as if they were its “center.” Perhaps the Maharsha means that the spherical earth spins on its axis and that is the highest point, just like you might see a model of the earth on a bookshelf that spins on an axis with the North Pole at the top. But that cannot be, because the axis of the rotation of the Earth does not pass through Israel. It passes through the North Pole.

The Maharal of Prague wrote that Jerusalem is, spiritually speaking, the highest point on Earth (באר הגולה, הבאר הששי). Elsewhere, the Maharal suggests that just as water flows from the peaks of mountains down into valleys, it is Torah teachings that flow down from the spiritual capital Jerusalem to water the rest of the world. Perhaps it is this that gives Israel and its capital a shot at the claim of being the most spiritually elevated. Perhaps. But it’s a claim that is contingent on the behavior of all those who live there.

Questions for Discussion

Could Rav Kook’s explanation for the Mikdash’s location provide an explanation for the chosenness of Israel?
Rav Hirsch, in “Food for Thought” above writes that in Judaism, knowledge is “not merely the prerogative of a few ivory-tower thinkers.” Can you think of some aspects of Jewish law or history that demonstrate this?
Are there advantages to the ‘elitist’ model that Rav Kook says was rejected by David? If so, what are they?
Why does Torah Judaism have Kohanim and rabbis, as opposed to a fully egalitarian model where everyone is their own religious authority?
Look up Devarim 14:23. Does it support Rav Kook’s theory? (See Tosafos in Bava Basra, 21a ד׳ה כי מציון.)
What does it mean to be a “kingdom of Kohanim and a holy nation”?

Going Short or Long (But Not on Wall Street) – Parshat Eikev

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Printable PDF available here. Last year’s piece on Parshat Eikev is available here.

**Rav Kook (Ein Ayah, Berachot 34a)**

“So I fell down before the Lord the forty days and the forty nights that I had fallen down; because the Lord had said to destroy you.” (Devarim 9:4)

Once, a student served as shaliach tzibur in the presence of Rabbi Eliezer, and he was excessively long in his prayer. His students complained and said to R. Eliezer: “How long-winded he is!” He said to them, “Is this student prolonging his prayer any more than Moshe, about whom it is written that he prayed for forty days and forty nights? Another time, a student served as shaliach tzibur in the presence of Rabbi Eliezer, and he was excessively short in his prayer. His students complained and said to R. Eliezer, “How short is his prayer!” He said to them, “Is this student shortening his prayer any more than Moshe, about whom it is written (Bamidbar 12:13) when he prayed to G-d to cure Miriam from her tzara’at, that he said “Please, G-d, heal her, please!’” (Gemara Berachot 34a)

What are our Sages trying to teach us about the essence of prayer? It cannot be just an idle curiosity that at one time, Moshe davened at length for forty days, and another time, he kept his prayer short. And what is the significance of the number forty?

To answer these questions, we have to understand that the spiritual purpose of prayer unfolds in two different dimensions. On one level, prayer is an attempt to change things, but not G-d’s mind, like many superficially assume. It is directed at transforming our very selves and uplifting our spiritual consciousness – or, when we pray on behalf of others, at transforming and uplifting them as well. Like all growth and development, this change can only take place gradually, as part of a process.

This was the nature of Moshe’s prayer in the wake of the Golden Calf, when he sought to impress a new character and a new heart upon the nation that had become sullied by sin. This explains why he prayed for forty days specifically. Our Sages teach that the basic formation of a fetus takes forty days, and by association, Moshe’s forty-day prayer was part of his attempt at national spiritual rebirth.

However, there is another type of prayer that focuses not on transforming the self, but on giving expression to one’s deepest spiritual needs and longings. In this modality, prayer is an opportunity for a person to verbalize what is transpiring in the depths of his soul. This modality is an opportunity for one to “pour out” his soul, and not for him to “fill up” their vessels.

This type of prayer does not demand a great length of time, as the feelings and emotions given expression are already present in the soul, simply waiting for an opportunity to burst forth. This is typified by Moshe’s prayer on behalf of Miriam, which was exceedingly short in length. This prayer reflected Moshe’s love and concern for his sister, which was already latent in his heart.

We now appreciate Rabbi Eliezer’s teaching about the length of prayer. “Long prayer” and “short prayer” are not simply quantitative categories that are established by a stopwatch. They represent two different spiritual worlds, two different modalities of prayer to G-d. Rabbi Eliezer taught his students that both are important and necessary. And as long as one’s heart is directed toward G-d, he should not be criticized for adopting one modality instead of another.

Food for Thought

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Commentary on the Torah, Bereishit 20:7): התפלל means to take the element of G-d’s truth, make it penetrate all phases and conditions of our being and our life, and thereby gain for ourselves the harmonious even tenor of our whole existence in G-d. Jewish tefilah is accordingly, the most complete contrast to what is generally called “prayer.” It is not an outflowing from within, an expression of that with which the heart is already filled – for that we have other expressions (siach, techinah, etc.) – but it is a renewed intake and penetration of truth which come from outside. If our prayers were not tefilah, if our praying were not התפלל, working on our inner self to bring it on the heights of recognition of the Truth, and to resolutions for serving G-d, there would be no sense in having fixed times and prescribed forms for them. For this assumes that periodically at fixed times the masses of a community are always filled with one and the same state of feelings, one and the same trend of thoughts. Yea, such prayers would be rather superfluous. Feelings and thoughts which are already lively within us have no need first to be expressed, and least of all in set phrases placed in our hands. When the heart is full it can always find its own way to express itself, or it can be so full, that words, mere words, mean nothing, and inarticulate silence is the only expression of such depths of feeling. Hence our prescribed prayers are not facts, truths, which they assume we are already fully conscious of, but are such that they wish to awaken, reanimate and keep ever afresh in us. One can truly say that the less we feel inclined to prayers, the greater is the necessity for saying them, the greater the importance, the greater the effect on us, of the work which we have to accomplish on ourselves by tefilah. The lack of the inclination for it is itself the clearest sign of the clouding over and darkening of that spirit and that recognition of the great Truth which does not assume us to have, but which it is rather to create, animate and set right in us.

Rav Soloveitchik (Worship of the Heart): [A]s we have explained, prayer is a vital necessity for the religious individual. He cannot conceal his thoughts and his feelings, his vacillations and his struggles, his yearnings and his wishes, his despair and his bitterness – in a word, the great wealth
stored away in his religious consciousness – in the depths of his soul. Suppressing liturgical expression is simply impossible: prayer is a necessity. Vital, vibrant religiosity cannot sustain itself without prayer. In sum, prayer is justified because it is impossible to exist without it.

Rav Soloveitchik (The Lonely Man of Faith): Prayer likewise consists not only of an awareness of the presence of G-d, but of an act of committing oneself to G-d and accepting His ethico-moral authority. Who is qualified to engage G-d in the prayer colloquy? Clearly, the person who is ready to cleanse himself of imperfection and evil. Any kind of injustice, corruption, cruelty, or the like desecrates the very essence of the prayer adventure, since it encases man in an ugly little world into which G-d is unwilling to enter. If man craves to meet G-d in prayer, then he must purge himself of all that separates him from G-d. The Halakhah has never looked upon prayer as a separate magical gesture in which man may engage without integrating it into the total pattern of his life. G-d hearkens to prayer if it rises from a heart contrite over a muddled and faulty life and from a resolute mind ready to redeem this life. In short, only the committed person is qualified to pray and to meet G-d.

Prayer is always the harbinger of moral reformation. This is the reason why prayer per se does not occupy as prominent a place in the Halakhic community as it does in other faith communities, and why prayer is not the great religious activity claiming, if not exclusiveness, at least centrality. Prayer must always be related to a prayerful life which is consecrated to the realization of the divine imperative, and as such it is not a separate entity, but the sublime prologue to Halakhic action.

Questions for Discussion

Rav Kook gives one explanation for why someone might choose “lengthy prayer” over “short prayer.” Can you think of any others?
Why is it so hard to daven?
Do Rav Kook’s insights resolve the philosophical problem of praying in order to change G-d’s mind?
See Rav Hirsch above in “Food for Thought.” Is he saying the total opposite of Rav Kook, or are they in partial agreement?
How exactly does prayer transform a person, as Rav Kook claims?