Printable PDF available here. Previous years’ pieces can be found here and here.

Rav Kook (Based on Ein Ayah, Berachot 32a)

The people took to complaining bitterly before G-d. G-d heard and was incensed; a fire of G-d broke out against them, ravaging the outskirts of the camp. The people cried out to Moshe, and Moshe prayed to the Lord (lit. אל ה׳) and the fire subsided. (Bamidbar 11:1-2)

Moshe ‘hurled words toward G-d on high’ (lit. הטיח דברים כלפי מעלה), as it is stated “And Moshe prayed to the Lord and the fire subsided.” As the letters aleph and ayin can be interchangeable, this should not be understood as “to G-d” (lit. אל ה׳) – as is written in the Torah – but rather “upwards toward G-d” (lit. על ה׳).

This statement of our Sages is puzzling. What exactly is the difference between praying “to” G-d and “casting one’s prayers upwards” to Him? Do our Sages approve of Moshe’s style of prayer here, or are they criticizing him?[1] And even if there is some sort of difference between these two modes of prayer, why did Moshe choose to “cast” his words here, as opposed to any other time that he prayed?

To answer these questions, a deeper understanding of prayer is needed. We are habituated to thinking of prayer as an activity, as an action of pronouncing of specific words at particular times. But this is merely an outer expression of prayer. The true essence of prayer is an inward experience, a journey into higher levels of spiritual consciousness that brings an outpouring of enlightened emotion within the soul. The goal of prayer is to uplift man’s emotional realm, to make one enlivened and impassioned by reflection upon profound spiritual truths. To highlight the introspective nature of prayer, Hebrew uses the world hitpalel, a reflexive grammatical form, for prayer.

For the same reason, it is very unusual for the Torah to describe someone as praying “to G-d.” Almost always, prayer is described as taking place “before G-d” (lit. לפני ה׳). This formulation emphasizes the emotional, experiential dimension of prayer – it describes prayer as something that happens in G-d’s presence, and not a conversation directly to Him.[2]

Prayer thus strengthens and fertilizes the emotional dimension of man’s relationship with G-d. The intellect does not play a dominant role. However, because the intellect is the most essential way of attaining truth about the Creator, this means that the spiritual clarity provided by prayer is somewhat imperfect. For this reason, the Torah does not usually speak about praying “to G-d.” To “pray to G-d” would indicate either that (i) one’s prayers brought them to the highest and clearest levels of understanding the Divine, or that (ii) in a moment of the most abstract intellectual contemplation, one simultaneously experienced an outpouring of enlightened emotion within his soul. But each of these is an impossible paradox, like driving a car forward and in reverse at the same time. The intellect and emotion are both necessary for man’s spiritual development, but they cannot both be in the driver’s seat at the same time.

Our Sages were thus bothered by the verse in this parshah describing Moshe as praying “to G-d.” On this basis, they concluded that the aleph and ayin in the verse must be interchanged, and that Moshe did not pray “to G-d” but rather “upwards toward G-d.” This is meant to convey an image of Moshe defying the natural limitations of prayer, like one forcefully throwing an object upwards higher than his hands can reach. Moshe could readily ‘grasp’ why G-d had just punished the people for their complaints and rebelliousness. It did not take much profundity to understand that the people had sinned and thus deserved the Divine anger that had “ravaged the outskirts of the camp.” But Moshe’s lofty soul overflowed with such passionate yearning for perfection, such pure and incredible love for Israel, that his prayer was able to surpass his intellectual grasp of G-d’s providence and His conduct of the universe.

[1] Most commentaries understand the phrase “hurling words up to G-d” as indicating impudence or some level of disrespect.

[2] Rav Kook does not mean to assert that prayer is some kind of abstract meditative exercise, which it most certainly is not. He is speaking about the inner experience and purpose of prayer, not the act of prayer itself.

Food for Thought

Rav 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.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks: Prayer is the act of turning ourselves into a vehicle for the Divine. We are not the same after we have stood in the Divine presence as we were before. We have been transformed. We see the world in a different light. Perhaps we radiate a different light. We have spoken to and listened to G-d. We have aligned ourselves with the moral energies of the universe. We have become, in Lurianic terminology, vessels for G-d’s blessing. We are changed by prayer.

Prayer changes the world because it changes us. At its height, it is a profoundly transformative experience. If we have truly prayed, we come in the course of time to know that the world was made, and we were made, for a purpose; that G-d, though immeasurably vast, is also intensely close; that “though my father and mother may reject me, G-d will gather me in”; that G-d is with us in our efforts, and that we do not labor in vain. We know, too, that we are part of the community of faith, and with us are four thousand years of history and the prayers and hopes of those who came before us. However far we feel from G-d, He is there behind us, and all we have to do is turn to face Him. Faith is born and lives in prayer, and faith is the antidote to fear: “The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?”

It makes a difference to be brushed by the wings of eternity. Regular thrice-daily prayer works on us in ways not immediately apparent. As the sea smoothes the stone, as the repeated hammer-blows of the sculptor shape the marble, so prayer—cyclical, tracking the rhythms of time itself—gradually wears away the jagged edges of our character, turning it into a work of devotional art. We begin to see the beauty of the created world. We locate ourselves as part of the story of our people. Slowly, we come to think less of the “I,” more of the “We”; less of what we lack than of what we have; less of what we need from the world, more of what the world needs from us. Prayer is less about getting what we want than about learning what to want. Our priorities change; we become less angular; we learn the deep happiness that comes from learning to give praise and thanks. The world we build tomorrow is born in the prayers we say today.

Questions for Discussion/Further Thought

1. Rav Kook writes that prayer is primarily an emotional and experiential activity, as opposed to an intellectual one. Do you agree?
2. Do Rav Kook’s insights resolve the philosophical difficulty with praying in order to change G-d’s mind?
3. See Rav Hirsch and Rabbi Jonathan Sacks above in “Food for Thought.” Are they saying the same thing as Rav Kook? Or are there points of disagreement between them?
4. Why is it hard to pray?

How might Rav Kook’s insights enhance our tefilah?

Printable PDF available here.

Rav Kook (Midot ha’Reiah, ערך גאוה, ערך עינוה)

Miriam and Aaron spoke against Moses regarding the Cushite woman he had married, for he had married a Cushite woman. They said, “Has the Lord spoken only to Moses? Hasn’t He spoken to us too?” And the Lord heard. Now this man Moses was exceedingly humble, more so than any person on the face of the earth. (Bamidbar 12:1-3)

The Danger of Arrogance

No negative trait comes close to arrogance (lit. גאוה) in its ability to deaden one’s religious personality, in its power to foreclose spiritual elevation and refinement.

Arrogance is bad character trait, but it is also a terrible punishment.

Humility and Willpower

Arrogance blemishes one’s willpower, and without willpower, Divine goodness can find no place to rest.

Humility deepens the power of the will, which makes it singularly important in shaping a person to be a vessel for all blessing and all goodness.

True and False Humility

Foolish is the person who allows concern for arrogance to hold him back from righteous conduct, Torah study, or developing his own Torah thoughts. A person must involve himself vigorously in every good pursuit and strive to elevate all of his thoughts. As he rises upward, the problem of arrogance will rectify itself – either by being cast aside, by being sanctified and elevated to its supernal source, or through a process of teshuva.

Our sages (see Bereishit 22:1 with Rashi) teach that הנני, the declaration “Here I am!” is an expression of humility and vigor (lit. לשון ענוה וזריזות). These two traits are not opposites. On the contrary, a truly humble person is full of determination and holy dynamism.

Any humility that leads to depression is spurious and illegitimate. True humility brings one to a state ofsimchah, gevurahand inner dignity.

A person who detects ga’avah within his personality must undertake an exceedingly thorough investigation. He must distinguish between (i) the terrible malady of arrogance that undermines a person’s clarity of consciousness and awareness of the Divine, and (ii) the refined sensitivity to one’s own spiritual potential, which broadens a person’s mind, girds him with a sense of confidence and fills his spiritual world with strength and splendor. Many times, what a person initially judges to be prideful conceit is really the vigorous expression of the Divine light that flows within his soul. He sees the greatness of G-d (lit. גאות ה׳) that streams through all of reality, and this fills him with a sense of vigor and self-worth. If someone in this state of being forces himself to constrict his sense of pride, no good will come about. The opposite is true – his spiritual stamina will be smothered and he will live out his days as a broken, timid and listless shadow of his full self. He will delude himself into thinking that his meekness brings him close to G-d, when in truth, it is a retreat from His presence.

Sometimes, it is hard for a person to grow and develop linearly, in gradual steps. He must leap upwards by making use of the trait of Holy pride (lit. גאוה של קדושה) and judge himself in an exceedingly favorable manner. He must find the points of goodness that remain within himself despite his many shortcomings. When a person exerts himself to find these points, he discovers a wealth of good within him. Through teshuva, even his shortcomings become transformed into fuel for spiritual improvement. And each day, he can advance in righteousness and good deeds, with a pure heart and full of confidence in his unfolding rehabilitation.

Food for Thought

Rav Moshe Weinberger (Song of Teshuva Vol. 4): [In the second excerpt above, Rav Kook writes that arrogance can be more than just a bad character trait – it is also a punishment.] Great rabbis such as the Ari and R. Chaim Vital teach that the essence of a Jew is holy and pure. Where then do a Jew’s bad traits come from? The Mussar literature answers that these traits come not from his essence but from his nefesh, his animal soul, and are superimposed upon his intrinsic goodness. Typically, a person’s bad traits are congenitally or environmentally shaped. But sometimes, Rav Kook states — in line with teachings of the Zohar and the Ari — G-d punishes a person for his sins by afflicting him with bad traits, in particular with a stubbornness of heart, as was the case with Pharaoh (Shemos 7:3). That is the worst punishment of all.

Thus, there are some people who stubbornly refuse to follow a halachah found in the Shulchan Aruch. Someone could speak to them day and night but they will not accept it. They will not listen to criticism, or agree to bind themselves to the most straightforward of Torah laws. This has nothing to do with intellectual differences or with an inability to subject themselves to the discipline that would be involved. It is due only to their having a hardened, stubborn heart. Even if someone demonstrates to them that their stubbornness is destroying their lives, they do not hear. They prefer to watch their entire kingdom, everything they have lived for, crumble before their eyes rather than comply.

In the yearly cycle of the Torah reading, every time we come to the Parshiyos that tell about the Exodus, we think that Pharaoh was a fool for having contested G-d. But if Pharaoh could look at us, he would say, “What makes you any smarter? Aren’t you ruining your children and yourself with gossip, slander, looking at immodest sights and all kinds of filth? Isn’t your own life crumbling before your eyes? You make fun of me, yet although you constantly hear words of reproof, the words of the living G-d, from holy books, you still sin. You’re still destroying your life.”

Typically, when a person wants to rid himself of a bad trait that hurts him and others, he studies Mussar texts or follows the suggestions found in self-help literature. However, that approach may not help. And if so, it is possible that this trait has come as a punishment for his sins. Therefore, the way for him to rectify that bad trait is to do teshuvah for his sins, even though he may not see any connection between the two.

Rav Soloveitchik (Days of Deliverance, pg. 8-9): The vulnerability of man is more than just a tragic truth; it is an ethical – halakhic postulate. The awareness of vulnerability, of being exposed, engenders many ethical virtues, among which the most important is humility. Man must practice humility; pride and vanity are both degrading and corrupting. Humility is perhaps the highest ethical virtue – Maimonides even suspended the rule of the golden mean vis-à-vis humility, writing that one must be “of exceeding humble and lowly spirit.”

Why should man be modest, shy, humble? Particularly, why should successful man be humble? He has the right, prima facie, to be proud of himself, to be arrogant toward those who have failed in life. In fact, man is inclined to be arrogant, to be impudent and aggressive. He is inclined to reach for things that are above and beyond his legitimate reach. Human arrogance, is of course, the consequence of victory; the feelings of self-assurance and self-righteousness that accompany success result in pride and arrogance. However, human pride and arrogance disappear the very moment man becomes aware of his vulnerability and of the suddenness with which fortune changes. In other words, the awareness of human vulnerability is cathartic, cleansing, it is an awareness that ennobles man and has a redemptive impact upon him. Humility is the expression of that awareness.

Questions for Discussion/Further Thought

1. We usually think that punishment involves pain and suffering. How can a bad character trait be a punishment?
2. Rav Mordechai Willig writes that “Self-centered modern society promotes self-fulfillment, gratification of one’s physical and psychological needs and wants, and self-actualization, the maximum fulfillment of one’s potential. The Torah teaches that these two goals are contradictory. Moshe reached the highest level of self-actualization precisely because he humbly negated his sense of self, and lived as an absolute servant of his Master. May all of us learn from his example and attempt to understand the Torah without a personal agenda. Paradoxically, by this self-negation we will be enabled to narrow the line between who we can be and who we are.” Do you think Rav Kook would agree? Why or why not?
3. How does humility make a person closer to G-d? How does it make his or her life better?
4. What does Rav Kook say about how to distinguish between true and false humility? Can you think of any other ways?
5. What is the relationship between willpower and humility?
6. How does Rav Kook’s understanding of humility differ from that of Rav Soloveitchik, quoted above?
7. What are ways that a person can acquire humility?

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

1. If the Menorah represents the ‘outer light’ of the Torah, which other vessel in the Temple might represent its ‘inner light’?
2. 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?
3. 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?
4. 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?
5. Is the Torah’s ‘outer’ light the same thing as making a kiddush Hashem, or does it mean something different?
6. 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?
7. 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.