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

Rav Kook (Based on the Introduction to Ein Ayah)

On the other side of the Jordan, in the land of Moab, Moses began to explain (באר) this Torah. (Devarim 1:4)

In Tanach, we find two different verbs for pursuing a deeper understanding of Torah. One term, which characterizes the book of Devarim, is bi’ur. The other term is peirush. What is the difference between these two modes of comprehending Torah? And what determines which mode is appropriate for a specific Torah discipline, or in a particular generation? The difference between bi’ur and peirush may seem like wordplay, but these are not mere synonyms. Understanding these conceptual categories will take us to the very essence of Torah itself.

Peirush shares the same root as the Hebrew word for unfolding, as is clear from other verses in Tanach.[1] When one engages in peirush, they are literally “unfolding” the subject of their study, extracting its full implications and “spreading it out,” like one broadening out the folds of a garment. Through this linear and focused process of cognition, one can discover a wealth of insight and profundity in every Torah teaching.

Bi’ur involves an entirely different mode of cognition. No single teaching of Torah can be exhausted by the process of unpacking its implications through peirush. Because of the Torah’s Divine character, every aspect of Torah contains a flow of light and wisdom that pours forth through one who makes himself a suitable vessel. When the G-dly wisdom of Torah percolates through human intellect, a wealth of associations and connections emerge from every word. Bi’ur is not a linear process of ‘unpacking’ the Torah’s wisdom, nor is not bounded by the measured and deliberate steps of formal logic. Its wisdom is innovative and associative, and involves creativity and flashes of inspiration.

The word bi’ur is thus related to the word be’er, or wellspring, and connotes the expansive, associative dimension of Torah, whereby lifegiving waters of holiness flow forth from every utterance that Israel has inherited from previous generations of its scholars and ancestors. It should not surprise us, then, that our Sages refer to the highest level of Torah scholar as “an ever-increasing wellspring” and “an unending river.”

Let us examine another important difference. Although one can acquire an appreciation of the ‘big picture’ of Torah through peirush, its focus is principally upon the discrete details of the Torah system. The big picture emerges only through the painstaking amalgamation of sufficient detail, much like the scene of a pointillist painting is created by thousands of individual dots of paint. However, the pursuit of bi’ur is primarily concerned with the general character of Torah. It seeks out the Divine will and ethical vitality that lies within and animates every single detail. Before, we noted that bi’ur is related to the Hebrew word for wellspring. Just as a spring of water is a single, integrated entity that flows and moves as one, bi’ur involves the pursuit and perception of the underlying unity of the Torah and its ultimate telos.

Through bi’ur, even halachic disputes can be resolved by recourse to the general, all-encompassing Divine will and ethical foundations of the Torah.[2] But this demands towering spiritual personalities who can accurate discern the ruach haTorah, without being misled by their own weaknesses, desires or un-Jewish ideologies. Individuals of such spiritual sensitivity can only emerge when Israel is at the highest level of holiness, with a seamless integration of physical and spiritual reality. This can only be attained in the Land of Israel, “whose very air infuses the soul with Divine wisdom.”  For this reason, we find that Moshe did not begin his bi’ur of the Torah until now, when the Jews were on the verge of entering the Holy Land.

In exile, the requisite level of spiritual sensitivity for adjudicating halachic disputes through bi’ur is lacking. One who attempts to do so is likely to stumble. And thus, at least when it comes to halachic matters, our responsibility is to dedicate our collective energies to peirush haTorah. Thus, we find that generations later, when the wellsprings of the be’er had begun to close, Ezra led a return to Torah learning and education. And we are told “they read in the scroll, in the Law of G-d, clearly (lit. meforash)… and they explained the reading to them” (Nechemiah 8:8).

However, the wellspring of Torah remains open in the realm of aggadah. There are two reasons for this. First of all, the concern for stumbling in matters of practical conduct is not as great in aggadah as it is in halacha. Secondly, it is easier to perceive the all-encompassing Divine will and ethical foundations of the Torah in aggadah than it is in the (seemingly) dry details of halacha. Thus, when it comes to aggadah, we remain free to pursue an associative and expansive, and carve channels through which the lifegiving waters of the Torah can flow.

[1] Rav Kook references Isaiah 25:11 – “And he [Moav] shall spread out (ופרש) his hands in his midst as the swimmer spreads out (יפרש) to swim and He shall humble his haughtiness [together] with the cunning of His hands.” See also Devarim 22:17 – “And they shall spread (ופרשו) the garment before the elders of the city.”

[2] Rav Kook notes that the investigation of טעמי המצוות is a component of bi’ur.

Food for Thought

World Heritage Encyclopedia: Aggadah…   refers to the homiletic and non-legalistic exegetical texts in the classical rabbinic literature of Judaism, particularly as recorded in the Talmud and Midrash. In general, Aggadah is a compendium of rabbinic homilies that incorporates folklore, historical anecdotes, moral exhortations, and practical advice in various spheres, from business to medicine.  In terms of etymology… the Aramaic root אגד (as well as נגד from which אגדה may arise) has the dual implication of “expanding” / “drawing out” and “binding” / “drawing in”. Correspondingly, the Aggadah may be seen as those teachings which communicate Rabbinic traditions to the reader, simultaneously expanding their understanding of the text, while strengthening their religious experience and spiritual connection. The root also has the meaning “flow”…

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch: Allow me to posit a general principle: aggadic statements are surely not ordinary or irrelevant statements. They are extremely precious statements that are surely pertinent to the intention of he Torah’s Giver, blessed is He. For, beyond the study and transmission of the details of Jewish practice so that Jewry should know how to act, every scholar to whom G-d grants the ability to do so, draws wisdom and mussar from the well of Torah and mitzvos according to his time and place, and according to his understanding and talents, in order to attract Jewish hearts to love of G-d and of His Torah. These are the darshanim of every generation. In his lectures, each of them develops his unique style in accord with his nature and spirit. There is no doubt that this form of expression is acceptable to G-d so long as it does not stray from the way of truth and uprightness. It is acceptable and part of His intention from the very giving of His Torah, when He informed Moshe of these aspects of Torah, too — but in a general way, without going into all the details that some scholar might at some time express publicly in a lecture. He transmitted it generally so that each scholar could develop his own ideas and produce fresh flowers in the garden of Torah and mitzvos to please G-d and man. It is no wonder that defiled men may not learn Aggadah any more than Halachah, for aggadic statements are as a whole considered part of Torah and most of them are based on verses in Tanach.

Rabbi Shalom Carmy (reviewing the philosophy of Rav Eliezer Berkovits): [Certain themes are] characteristic and distinctive to Berkovits’s halakhic philosophy. One such element is the priority of ethics in Halakhah. Conformity to the rules of halakhah is not an end in itself but merely one reflection of a set of higher moral principles. No stable legal system functioning in the real world can perfectly articulate the underlying values; therefore the timeworn precedents of the codified Halakhah should be maintained. But their final justification derives from the moral principles. Proper interpretation and application of the Halakhah should be governed by these principles. Hence Halakhah cannot conflict with morality. When codified Halakhah inflicts real damage on moral ends, in Berkovits’s opinion, as with numerous rulings on women’s status or when conversion standards ignore non-Orthodox concepts of Jewish identity, Berkovits advocates change.

Berkovits’s moral ends derive from internal Jewish sources. This is where he differs from other scholars (identified with Conservative Judaism) who justify halakhic change resulting from the encounter of tradition with the evolving needs of individual or society. The law may change, in Berkovits’s view, but the values do not; the purpose of change is to better sustain the values under varying conditions. Thus Berkovits’s dissatisfaction with mainstream Halakhah regarding women is rooted, not in the pressures of contemporary egalitarianism, but in his judgment about biblical conceptions of justice…

But Berkovits exceeds these modest claims: Most of us take guidance, when we study and when we act, from a set of important moral intuitions, but we hold them somewhat loosely. The body of Torah literature is complex, and, in the most sensitive areas, inhospitable to one-sided value judgment. Hence learning demands that we struggle with ideas that frequently pull us in conflicting directions. We strive to balance our philological and literary investigation of what the text says, and how it has been understood by the fellowship of talmidei hakhamim throughout the generations, against our moral and psychological conviction of what it ought to say, in our opinion. Because the editors of the Mishnah and the Talmud chose to include the conflicting views of the Sages, and because this decision molded the nature of our study ever after, the student of Torah is required to respect rabbinic positions that are not accepted at a practical level; thus he carries in his bones, so to speak, not only the final law, but the voices of disagreement and debate behind the law. In this incessant dialogue the student is sometimes compelled to recognize that the ideas and values with which he began do not fit the law. When this occurs, one does not reject or amend the law; it is our thinking that is ripe for revision. Charged with the responsibility of interpreting the law, we educate ourselves through the study, and the results are not always predictable.

Berkovits, by contrast, displays great confidence in his ability to discern, and define with precision the underlying axiology that ought to determine Halakhah, and which values should be allowed to override the others. For all the times he reminds us that no set of laws can succeed in absolutely capturing moral-religious reality, he is not inclined to remind himself that putting one’s trust in a set of general principles is a less reliable method of reaching truth than committing oneself to a set of precepts and texts with all their strange turnings and surprising twists.

Questions for Discussion

1. What is the purpose of aggadah? Why isn’t everything needed for Torah life contained in halacha?
2. What are some dangers of using the “bi’ur” approach to Torah to resolve halachic disputes?
3. Is it important to study the reasons for mitzvot? Why or why not?
4. Are you convinced by Rav Kook’s claim that the proper approach to resolving halachic questions can change depending on the spiritual stature of Israel and its leaders?
5. See Rav Hirsch above in “Food for Thought.” Is he saying the same thing as Rav Kook, or something different?

Printable PDF available here.

Ein Ayah (Gemara Berachot 32a)

At the beginning of Devarim, the Torah situates Moshe’s speech in reference to a number of places, including one called “Di Zahav.” The school of R. Yannai understood this as an allusion to the sin of the Golden Calf (zahav = gold). In the wake of that sin, Moshe said to G-d – “Master of the Universe, the gold and silver that you lavished upon Israel [as part of the Exodus from Egypt] until they said enough [lit. ‘dai’], that caused them to make the Golden Calf!” And according to R. Yonatan, G-d Himself ultimately conceded to Moshe. As the prophet Hoshea (2:10) states in G-d’s name, “I gave them an abundance of silver, and they used gold for the Ba’al.”

At first glance, this midrash is puzzling. How could Moshe blame the Israelites’ newfound wealth for the debacle of the Golden Calf? Is there really such an immutable connection between wealth and idolatry? Are rich people not expected to keep away from idolatry? And why did G-d lavish wealth upon the Israelites in the first place if he knew it would lead to a Golden Calf? This has to be more than a cute play on the words on Di Zahav, but what are our Sages getting at?

The answer to this question takes us to the very essence of the difference between avodat Hashem and idolatry. The foundation of avodat Hashem is a continual striving to come close to G-d, by refining oneself and attaining progressively higher levels of spiritual accomplishment. A person can never say “I’ve done enough, I’ve ‘made it’ and now I’m going to rest on my laurels.” After all, G-d is infinite. As one gets closer to Him, newer vistas of spiritual potential continuously upon up. The horizon is constantly receding.

Because G-d’s infinite nature is what creates the need for continuous spiritual growth, our limited minds cannot easily comprehend it. For this reason, G-d implanted in human nature an insatiable desire for wealth. This desire is not meant to be indulged thoughtlessly. It is a reflection, a reminder of the soul’s more refined longing to acquire true wealth, as part of perpetual journey of coming closer to the Divine. This was the reason that G-d showered Israel with wealth when they left Egypt.[1]

However, wealth only serves this deeper spiritual purpose when its bearer dwell independently and in their own land.[2]The desire for wealth expand and extends only in a context of normal economic activity and material development. However, during their time in the desert, the Jewish People were completely estranged from this reality. G-d provided all of their needs miraculously, without any need for initiative or effort on their part. This led to a sense of being overwhelmed with wealth, to the point that the people said ‘dai zahav!’ – ‘Enough gold, we do not need any more!’

The excess of gold led to a mindset of ‘dai,’ of contentedness about physical wealth. Eventually, that same mindset took hold with regard to spiritual matters as well. Instead of constantly striving for greater levels of spirituality, of awakening each day to climb another rung on the ladder between heaven and earth, they sought to arrive at the top. They wanted to arrive at the apex of spiritual perfection and lay down the burden, having arrived at the destination. But this is the root of idolatry. While G-d is infinite, the world of idolatry is one of limits. These limits are most pronounced in the crude idolatry of worshipping physical forms or representations. But even more ‘refined’ idolatry is defined by gods who are limited in the scope and extent of their power and their very being. Any idol wields power only at certain times and over a particular ‘jurisdiction’ of the created world – the god of the ocean is not the god of dry land, the god of death is not the god of life, and so on and so forth.

We can now answer each of the questions that we started with. We see how the Israelite’s mindset of ‘dai’ regarding their riches planted the seeds of the Golden Calf. According to our Sages, there is a deep spiritual connection between idolatry and a certain attitude to wealth – but not wealth per se. G-d was not setting up the people for failure by lavishing them with gold. He was giving them a catalyst for spiritual growth, but they failed to use it properly. Di Zahav is not a play on words, but a profound lesson about the need to chase the ever-receding horizon of closeness to G-d, and not fall prey to avodah zarah and its ideology of limitation.

Food for Thought

Rav Soloveitchik (Days of Deliverance, Pg. 164): Historically, the Jew has proven his ability to remain loyal and devoted to his tradition in poverty, in oppression, in distress. However, he failed miserably to prove his loyalty when his destiny was one of success and glorious achievements. We met the challenge of poverty and oppression and persecution with courage and determination, and we emerged victorious. However, with few exceptions, we have failed the challenge of affluence, of prominence in society. Jews have never lived as comfortably as we do now; never in Jewish history have we been as free as we are now, particularly in the United States. Moreover, the commitment of American Jewry to the Land of Israel is very impressive now. But many have not met with the required quality of heroism the challenge to commitment to observance and the ancient lifestyle that we have defended with our blood and tears and sweat.

Rabbis Levi Avtzon (Contemporary, Chabad.com): Our tradition seems to offer opposing views on wealth… So is wealth a blessing or a curse? The answer to all these questions is the same: It depends what you make of it. Wealth, like any means, is a potential. Potential is neither good nor bad; it’s neutral and colorless. The user gives it meaning and color. We take potential out of neutral and decide whether it will drive us forward or set us back into reverse.

Rav Soloveitchik (Derashot haRav, pg. 116-117): Within the non-Jewish world, one sees commendable responses to wealth. Wealthy nations foster culture, nurture creativity and spirituality contribute to science and the arts, and demonstrate generosity to their fellow man. America, for example, has weathered the trial of wealth over the last fifty years very well. The charity that America bestowed on their former enemies after both world wars is unsurpassed. The United States has built a great civilization and placed huge resources into its universities, music, and its literature. However, the non-Jewish world cannot tolerate the trial of poverty or the trial of suffering. The best example is Germany’s behavior as a nation after World War I. In response to military defeat and hyperinflation, it systematically exterminated twenty million people.

The Jew’s reaction to the experiences of both poverty and wealth is precisely the opposite. Historically, Jews have fared poorly when confronted with the trial of wealth. When a Jew acquires excessive wealth, he becomes animal-like. While the nations of the world divert a portion of their wealth towards spiritual matters, towards culture, towards higher ideals, under similar circumstances the Jew takes on the trappings of a vulgar, cynical materialism. “And Jeshurun became fat and rebelled (Devarim 32:15)” is the characteristic reaction of the Jew to wealth. Yet when confronted with the trial of poverty or suffering, the Jewish people have fared very well. A Jew does not spill blood when he is hungry When he is hungry he senses the hunger of his fellow; when he is cold, he feels his brother’s discomfort.

Vilna Gaon (Berachos 64a): The prophet Zechariah (3:7) describes angels as omdim— standing, while referring to humans as holchim— goers. Although angels are virtually flawless and on an extremely high spiritual level, this greatness actually limits them, as they remain static and unchanging throughout their entire existence. Humans, on the other hand, certainly make mistakes, but they also possess the unique ability of evolving and improving.

Tanach:

בראשית לא:וְעַתָּה הָלֹךְ הָלַכְתָּ, כִּי נִכְסֹף נִכְסַפְתָּה לְבֵית אָבִיךָ – לָמָּה גָנַבְתָּ אֶת אֱלֹהָי?

תהלים פד:נִכְסְפָה וְגַם כָּלְתָה נַפְשִׁי לְחַצְרוֹת ה’, לִבִּי וּבְשָׂרִי יְרַנְּנוּ אֶל אֵל חָי

איוב יד:תִּקְרָא וְאָנֹכִי אֶעֱנֶךָּ, לְמַעֲשֵׂה יָדֶיךָ תִכְסֹף

Questions for Discussion

1. What are some of the spiritual challenges presented by wealth?
2. How can a person constantly pursue spiritual growth without becoming unhappy with themselves and what they have accomplished?
3. Do you agree with Rav Kook’s argument that the desire for wealth has a spiritual dimension? Why or why not?
4. Take a look at the pasukim quoted above in “Food For Thought.” How might they support Rav Kook’s interpretation of the human desire for wealth?
5. What are some unhealthy attitudes towards wealth that you think are widespread in the Orthodox community. From where did these attitudes develop? Are they something we absorbed from the broader culture, or do we have only ourselves to blame?
6. Rav Kook writes that the desire for wealth reflects deeper, much more profound needs of the human soul. Can you think of any other desires that seem lowly on the surface, but really have a spiritual component to them?
7. What line in Birkat haChodesh supports Rav Kook’s understanding that wealth has a spiritual component to it?
8. What small step can you take in your own life to continue to grow religiously?

[1] According to the midrash, the Jews also collected riches from the Egyptian army at the Yam Suf. See Rashi on Shemot 15:22.

[2] In a portion not translated above, Rav Kook explains that G-d showered the people with wealth in anticipation of their needs in Eretz Yisrael. Although Hashem was providing everything in the desert, this would not last forever. It was Israel’s shortsightedness that led to the sense of being overwhelmed with wealth, that led to the attitude of ‘dai.’