Printable PDF available here. Previous years’ pieces on Nitzavim/Vayeilech are available here and here.

Rav Kook (Based on Midbar Shur, Drush 9)

“You are all standing this day before the Lord your G-d, the leaders of your tribes, your elders and your officers, every man of Israel, your young children, your women, and your convert who is within your camp both your woodcutters and your water-drawers…” (Devarim 29:9-11)

The essence of Rosh haShanah, the dominant motif of the entire day, is G-d’s judgment of the entire world. However, the Talmud Yerushalmi teaches that G-d does not render His judgment until the daytime. Thus, we must wonder about the nature of Rosh haShanah night. Are we simply sitting in the ‘waiting room’ until the Heavenly Court convenes the next morning?

It seems that this is not the case. Rosh haShanah night has a distinct character and avodah of its own. Specifically, it is a time for each individual to join their heart to the other members of G-d’s nation. Indeed, as long as person is judged as an individual, tremendous merits are needed to earn a favorable judgment. And if one needs to entreat or beseech G-d for forgiveness, our tradition teaches that G-d is always close to the collective (lit. ציבור), while an individual must seek out opportune moments, such as the Aseret Yemei Teshuva.

Thus, in anticipation of standing before G-d in judgment, we attempt to draw on the merit of the collective, and thus ensure our inscription in the Book of Life. We do this by fortifying our love for other Jews – the mitzvah of ואהבת לרעך כמוך. This mitzvah is rooted in, and also results in, a transformation of identity. Someone who loves other Jews ceases focusing on the external divisions that separate us from one another. He realizes that all of Israel partakes of a single collective soul, like strands of a rope that are bound together.[1] Our spiritual essence is one; it is only in the physical world, the world of externals that we are we separated from each other.

But collective merit is not sufficient on its own. A person cannot lead a deficient and unexamined spiritual life and then opt to fall back lazily on being a member of Israel. He must also do his own spiritual work and accrue his own merits.

Hillel, the Talmudic Sage, expressed this duality when a prospective convert asked to be taught “the entire Torah on one foot” (lit. על רגל אחת), and Hillel invoked the mitzvah of ahavat Yisrael (ואהבת לרעך כמוך). On a simple level, this is a Hebrew idiom, comparable to the English “thinking on your feet.” But there is a deeper meaning as well. Every person has two ‘feet’ on which his spiritual persona ‘stands.’ One is his status as a Jew and a member of Knesset Yisrael. The other is his individual spiritual accomplishments and good deeds. Hillel was teaching that love of one’s fellow Jew isenough to stand on – even if you don’t have another leg to stand on because your own spiritual house is not (yet) entirely in order. King David also alluded to this truth in Tehillim (26:12), when he declares “My foot [singular] stood on a straight path; I will bless the Lord in assemblies.”

Granted, one is not supposed to lean on the ‘leg’ of collective merit in perpetuity. In order to walk, two legs are indispensable. Or, as our Sages (Alfa Beita d’Rebbe Akiva) put it, emet yeish lo raglayim – “Truth has legs [plural].” However, joining with the community is not just a source of merit, but also a catalyst for transforming one’s own individual spiritual persona. After all, sin is not just a personal failure, but also a setback and a harm to all of Israel. Inasmuch as the souls of all Jews are bound together, one’s own shortcomings are bound to reverberate and hold the entire nation back from achieving its telos. Conversely, when I perform mitzvot and avoid transgression, I am not only augmenting my own spirituality, but propelling the entire nation forward toward its destiny. An honest and profound commitment to ahavat Yisrael will spur individual religious growth as well.

This dynamic is built into the auspicious period that we are about to enter. On Rosh haShanah – and especially during the evening – our job is to focus on ahavat Yisrael and submerging our identity in the collective. By contrast, the following period of Aseret Yemei Teshuva – and especially Yom Kippur – is a time to take stock of our own failures and spiritual shortcomings. Each of these times contributes to one indispensable and sacred unit. Thus, the worlds of Truth and Peace are bound together inseparably. For G-d’s name is Shalom is his seal is Emet.

[1] In the Hebrew, Rav Kook references a midrash (cited by Rashi on Bereishit 46:26), which notes that Ya’akov’s descendants are described in their descent to Egypt as seventy nefesh, in the singular, while Esav’s family are described with the plural nefashot.

Food for Thought

Rav Ya’akov Beasley: We fail to appreciate the revolutionary significance of the declaration that Hashem created the human being in His image and likeness. In fact, it is quite possibly the single most radical consequence of monotheism. Just as Hashem is singular and alone, man is also singular and alone. With Bereishit’s opening story we witness the birth of the individual in Western civilization. Clearly, the supreme and unique importance of the individual was unknown in the pagan world. Instead, they viewed the significance of the individual solely through the lens of the individual’s relationship to his/her value to society as a whole. A worthwhile point of comparison is between our ethics, as expounded in Tanakh, and those of ancient Greece. In Greece, the highest value was the polis, the group. As such, ethics was a code for singe-minded devotion to the city (Athens, Sparta), and the supreme glory was heroism in the field of battle, or the willingness to die for the city’s sake: dulce et decorum est pro patria mori (“It is pleasant and proper to die for one’s country”). Not surprisingly, the Greeks developed the “custom” of abandoning elderly, feeble parents or handicapped children on mountainsides to perish. They argued that this freed them of the “shame” of being dependent on others for their sustenance. The group takes precedence over the individual. Once a person ceased to benefit society, his life lost its value and was no longer protected by law.

Rav Soloveitchik (On Repentance): A Jew who has lost his faith in Knesset Israel even though he may, in his own litte corner, sanctify and purify himself through severities and restrictions-this Jew remains incorrigible and totally unequipped to partake of the Day of Atonement which encompasses the whole of Knesset Israel in all its parts and in all its generations…. Only a Jew who believes in Knesset Israel will be privileged to partake of the sanctity of the day and of atonement as part of the community of Israel… A Jew who lives as part of Knesset Israel and is ready to lay down his life for it, who is pained by its hurt and is happy at its joy, wages its battles, groans at its failures, and celebrates its victories… A Jew who believes in Knesset Israel is a Jew who binds himself with an indissoluble bond not only to the People of Israel of his generation, but to Knesset Israel through all the generations.”

Rav Yehuda Amital: When Elisha tried to repay the Shunamite woman for her kindness, she said to him: “I dwell among my people” (Melakhim Beit, 4:13). Regarding these words, the Zohar says (Noach 69b): “When the world is being called into account, it is not advisable that a man should have his name mentioned on high, for the mention of his name will be a reminder of his sins, and will cause him to be brought under scrutiny. This we learn from the words of the Shunamite woman. It was Rosh HaShana, when God sits in judgment on the world, that Elisha asked her: “Can I speak to the King on your behalf” (ibid), i.e. to the Holy One, blessed be He, for on that day He is… King of Judgment. She answered: “I dwell among my people” – that is, “I do not wish to be remembered and to have attention drawn to me, save among my own people.” He who keeps himself in the middle of his own people does not draw attention upon himself, and so escapes criticism.

The underlying message is that a person should try to avoid standing out from the community in which he lives. When a Jew stands before God, he recognizes his insignificance, and prefers not to be judged as an individual, but as part of the Jewish people. In his everyday affairs as well, a person should strive to be part of his community, and not allow himself to stand out more than necessary. Making oneself conspicuous testifies to arrogance, for a person who makes himself noticeable demonstrates that he views himself as fit to stand individually and on his own before God as well.

Rav Joseph Soloveitchik (“Community”): The community in Judaism is not a functional-utilitarian, but an ontological one. The community is not just an assembly of people who work together for their mutual benefit, but a metaphysical entity, an individuality: I might say, a living whole. In particular, Judaism has stressed the wholeness and the unity of Knesset Israel, the Jewish community. The latter is not a conglomerate. It is an autonomous entity, endowed with a life of its own.

Rabbi Shmuel Goldin (Unlocking the Torah Text, Vayikra): During his lifetime (1903–1993), the Rav expressed deep concern over the spiritual survival of Diaspora Jewry and the physical safety of the Jewish community in Israel. He maintained, however, that faith in Knesset Yisrael mandates against despair, requiring each Jew to believe in the continued existence of our people until the coming of the Messiah. One can’t help but wonder, however, how much more fearful the Rav would be today, witnessing not only an exacerbation of the crises he noted in his lifetime, but also the growing pressures within the Jewish community upon the very integrity of Knesset Yisrael.

Fragmented for years, we have become a people increasingly divided against ourselves as the fault lines between us, both in Israel and the diaspora, grow into seemingly unbridgeable chasms. Charedi, Zionist, Secular, Conservative, Reform, Orthodox, Settlers, Peace Activists – we continue to retreat into homogeneous groups, seeking the safety of those who share our ideas and our own life outlook. And the groupings grow even narrower… Even within the Orthodox community, for example, do Charedi and Religious Zionist Jews feel kinship with or antipathy towards each other as they pass on the street? Do Modern Orthodox Jews and Satmar Chasidim truly see themselves as part of the same people, with the same dreams?…

I can hear the Rav’s voice whispering in my ear of the importance of Knesset Yisrael. His vision of shared origin and shared destiny is one that we lose, God forbid, at our peril.

Johann Hari (Lost Connections, pg. p. 81-84): When we talk about home today, we mean just our four walls and (if we’re lucky) our nuclear family. But that’s never been what home has meant to any humans before us. To them, it meant a community—a dense web of people all around us, a tribe. But that is largely gone. Our sense of home has shriveled so far and so fast it no longer meets our need for a sense of belonging. So we are homesick even when we are at home… [W]e haven’t just started doing things alone more, in every decade since the 1930s. We have started to believe that doing things alone is the natural state of human beings, and the only way to advance. We have begun to think: I will look after myself, and everybody else should look after themselves, as individuals. Nobody can help you but you. Nobody can help me but me. These ideas now run so deep in our culture that we even offer them as feel-good bromides to people who feel down—as if it will lift them up. But… this is a denial of human history, and a denial of human nature. It leads us to misunderstand our most basic instincts. And this approach to life makes us feel terrible.

Questions for Discussion

1. Where in Chumash do we find someone walking (or limping) on one leg? How might that episode tie to Rav Kook’s insights?
2. Why is it important to be a member of a Jewish community?
3. In what way is the Jewish community different from other religious communities or groups with common values/goals?
4. How would our religious observance be different if we were conscious of the idea that all Jews share one soul?
5. What are some dangers of an overemphasis on the individual? Of an overemphasis on the community?
6. Where during the Yamim Noraim do we highlight the role of the individual? The role of the community?

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

Rav Kook (Me’orot ha’Reiah, 4:315)

“Perhaps among you there is a man, woman, family, or a tribe, whose heart strays this day from the Lord, our G-d, to go and worship the deities of those nations. Perhaps there is among you a root that produces hemlock and wormwood. And it will be, when he [such a person] hears the words of this oath, that he will bless himself in his heart, saying, “I will have peace, even if I follow my heart’s desires,” in order to add the [punishment for the] unintentional sins [of this man] to that of [his] intentional sins. The Lord will not be willing to forgive him; rather, then, the Lord’s fury and His zeal will fume against that man, and the entire curse written in this book will rest upon him, and the Lord will obliterate his name from beneath the heavens. And the Lord will separate him for evil, out of all the tribes of Israel, according to all the curses of the covenant, written in this Torah scroll.” (Devarim 29:17-18)

The picture Moshe paints here is hard to make sense of. Why would someone – who himself participated in the covenant – give himself license to ignore the Torah? It doesn’t sound like Moshe is talking about a heretic or a non-believer, but rather someone who is sincere (if misguided) in his belief that he is free to transgress the Torah.

To make sense of these verses, we must understand that there are two types of spiritual attainments. One is an intrinsic state of being, without any outward manifestation. The second receives expression in the world of action.

In Israel, the state of intrinsic spiritual perfection unfolds primarily on the collective level. Although every individual Jew possesses a unique Divine soul, early mystical sources teach that all Jews share in and partake of a single collective soul. Only on the physical plane are we discrete and separate from each other. For this reason, when the Torah describes the Jews encamping at Mount Sinai, it uses the singular verb (lit. ויחן), because the giving of the Torah tapped into the unitary, integrated sanctity of the Jewish People.

This notion, that holiness is rooted in the collective spiritual consciousness of Israel, is expressed in the Beit haMikdash in a number of ways. The Kohen Gadol, whose service caused the Divine Presence to rest upon Israel, wore a breastplate(lit. חשן) upon which were engraved the names of the 12 Tribes. The Beit haMikdash was not in the portion of any individual tribe, but rested on land purchased by the entire nation. And communal korbanot had to be purchased by communal funds, and could not be paid for by any individual.

However, when it comes to the second type of spirituality, the communal element is not accentuated. In the world of action, the individual is primary. Every person must regard it as if the entire world was created for his sake. He must take responsibility for performing mitzvot and ma’asim tovim to the utmost of his ability.

We are now ready to understand the verses that we began with. They are not describing a person who regards himself free to ignore all of the Torah’s commands – only certain ones. This individual believes that his personal religious affairs are irrelevant to G-d, who cares only about the spiritual health of the collective. In public, this individual acts like an upstanding Jew and he is fervent about maintaining his affiliation with the collective. He is not a poresh min ha’tzibur of the sort denigrated by Chazal and later sources, like the Rambam. But in the privacy of his home, the Torah is simply not a part of his reality. The fact that “the entire Congregation is holy and G-d is in their midst” is all that matters to him.

That G-d takes such offense to this perspective should make clear to us how profoundly mistaken it is. Living as a Jew is about “playing for the team” – not just being a dues-paying member. The fact that we live in upstanding communities –collective bodies permeated with chesed, emunah and Torah learning – is insufficient as long as those values don’t enter our personal lives and find expression in the world of action, and even when no one is looking.

Food for Thought

Reflections of the Rav (Vol. 2, Pg. 85-87): Judaism understands the greatness of the existential experience of man alone. It is important to be an individual. Man is creative because he is an individual and is different. He can be alone and live in the recesses of his personality, unknown to others. On the other hand, Judaism also understands the greatness of the community, of the existential experience of living in the community. According to Judaism, both the thesis and the antithe­sis are correct. Jews must be capable of being alone and at the same time of being together. The Jew must be capable of with­drawing and escaping from society and the noise of the street. He must be able to leave behind the vulgarity, coarseness, and artifici­ality of society. However, he must also be capable of coming back, joining, merging, and once again being one with society.

The Jew should experience existence as a “together” affair as well as only an “I” affair. He should be concerned only with him­self and at the same time with everyone else, with the community. The individual is both. He is a separate existential entity who can­not imagine existence outside of himself. As you know, as man gets older he begins to think in very strange and peculiar terms. I can imagine many things. I cannot imagine how it is possible for the world to go on existing after I have left it.

There is a short story written by a master writer, Peter Altenberg. He was an assimilated Jew who lived in Vienna at the turn of the century. Altenberg opposed Theodor Herzl, the founder of the Zionist movement, who also lived in Vienna at that time. Altenberg wrote a short story which I believe was called “New Year’s Eve, 1951.” In it he describes the New Year when the streets are blanketed with snow, everybody is rushing, and the music plays in the cafes. He was a sensitive person, and he gives a portrayal of New Year’s Eve in Vienna. You have to be Viennese to truly understand his portrait of the New Year’s dances and the affection of the people for one other.

And then there is the last line. “The same New Year’s Eve as I celebrated in 1903 will be celebrated in 1951. There will be only one difference. Peter Altenburg will not be around on New Year’s Eve in 1951.” In other words, he could not imagine how New Year’s Eve could take place without him…

This is a tragic experience. The individual cannot imagine a world that he is not part of. This is basically a tragic experience, but it is also a creative experience. It is an inspiring experience. I cannot explain this to you. But it is inspiring and it is rooted in the individuality and exclusiveness of the human being.

Seforno (Devarim 29:17): The individual described in this verse goes through the motions of participating in the covenant. But at the very moment he voices his acceptance of the covenant, he intends to ignore it. He thinks he is exempt because he never sincerely accepted the covenant in the first place.

Rav Yehuda Amital (Commitment and Complexity, Pg. 71): Modern Western society revolves around three central values, all of which relate to the individual: individual rights, individual liberty and individual privacy. It appears at times as though these have attained the status of absolute values, which may not be violated under any circumstances. Their effect on society and culture is discernible in almost every sphere, from legislation, through education, literature and art to the prevailing everyday lifestyle.

“Privacy of the individual” occupies a special place, for it is most comprehensive and the attitude towards it borders on worship. In light of this value, a number of rules have been established which leave their mark on all social relationships. For example, any conversation between two people who are not members of the same family or close friends must be pragmatic and to-the-point, free of anything personal. Any personal comment or question, or even a show of interest in the personal condition or feelings of one’s partner in conversation is regarded as rude, a desecration of the holy value of privacy and a vulgar violation of his private life. Every person is a closed world, and no one else has the right to penetrate it. As a result, there is a growing sense of alienation in Western society in general… There is “I” and there is “he,” but there is almost never a “we.”

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Horeb, pg. 206): All hallowed things, from orlah to ma’aser, have a national significance. It is the community that sanctifies the offering, and hallowed things are partaken of as part of or as representative of the community; and only with this communal sense are holy actions performed.

Questions for Discussion

1. See Rav Soloveitchik in “Food for Thought” above. Is he making the same point as Rav Kook, or is he saying something slightly different? (Consider the difference between collective Israel addressed by Rav Kook and “the community” discussed by Rav Soloveitchik.)
2. Where during the Yamim Noraim do we highlight the role of the individual? The role of the community?
3. Does the philosophy of the person described by Rav Kook resemble Orthopraxy? Why or why not?
4. How would our bein adam l’chaivero be different if we were conscious of the idea that all Jews share one soul?
5. What are some dangers of an overemphasis on the individual? Of an overemphasis on the community?
6. Where else in Judaism is there a connection between national identity and intrinsic holiness?

Printable PDF available here.

Rav Kook – Orot ha Teshuvah (17:2)

When all of these things come upon you, the blessing and the curse which I have set before you, you will consider in your heart, among all the nations where the Lord your G-d has banished you, and you will return unto the Lord, your G-d (lit. ושבת עד ה׳ אלוקיך), with all your heart and with all your soul, and you will listen to His voice, according to all that I am commanding you this day… (Devarim 30:1-2) 

For the Lord will once again rejoice over you for good, as He rejoiced over your forefathers, when you obey the Lord, your G-d, to observe His commandments and His statutes written in this Torah, and return to the Lord, your God (lit. ושבת אל ה׳ אלוקיך)… with all your heart and soul. (Devarim 30:9-10) 

Often, a person who wishes to do teshuvah encounters impediments. These blockages make him brokenhearted. Although he knows that his life is full of brokenness which must be rectified, he is unable to do proper teshuvah in practice. Nevertheless, his strong will for teshuvah purifies him. It sanctifies and illuminates his life, and the obstacles he encounters should not discourage him. He must continue to pursue exaltedness and spiritual elevation, in accordance with the holiness of his soul and its holy character…

Our parshah expresses this point with the way it describes teshuvah. It uses two different terms – one verse speaks of returning “unto” (lit.עד) G-d, whereas the other speaks of returning “to (lit. אל)” Him. Returning “unto” something means that you’ve come close, but haven’t yet reached what you’re seeking. Returning “to” something means that you’ve made it fully back. The Torah is clear that “return unto G-d” is also called teshuvah.

This is the teshuvah of the Jew who is seeking G-d’s embrace, but finds many obstacles blocking his way. We can call this “inner teshuvah” (lit. תשובה פנימית). It manifests itself in a person’s will, the deepest and most essential part of a person’s being. Although its light is obscured by many blockages and partitions, that light still shines, and ultimately, no obstacle in the world can prevent it from appearing in all of its beauty and perfection.

Commentary by Rav Moshe Weinberger (Song of Teshuvah, Vol. 4): When a person experiences a desire to do teshuvah… [h]e may suffer the confusion of not understanding what teshuvah means, he may feel that he lacks the strength to change, or he may be unable to repair damage that he had caused others. Perhaps he cheated someone who is no longer alive, perhaps he stole from the community, or perhaps he humiliated others without even realizing it. He takes his responsibility to do teshuvah seriously. He knows that he has to rectify everything in the most perfect way that he can. Yet he feels that in certain areas he cannot do teshuvah — and as a result his heart breaks. He might then think that his impulse to do teshuvah means nothing, that it is worthless. But a person’s will to do teshuvah — like his holy thoughts in general — stands on a high plane of existence… Thus, this person’s desire to do teshuvah is in itself something great and holy, a force that purifies and sanctifies him like a mikveh.

Therefore, he must not allow any obstacles… in his path to take him away from his desire to do teshuvah. He should not despair of reaching the most exalted level. And therefore, when he experiences any higher feeling, any spiritual ascent, even if it is of the most minor sort, he should not look down on it but hold onto it.

Rav Kook – Orot haTeshuvah (14:19)

Frequently, a person with newfound resolve for spiritual growth finds that his yetzer ha’ra grows stronger, casts him down and tempts him with lowly desires. The natural reaction is to take this as a rejection of the attempt to become a better Jew. This is a mistake. No one should ever regret their will for teshuvah. When you experience failure in the course of your ascent, the proper response is to redouble your resolve and to rectify those failures with additional teshuvah.

You should know that all of this is addressed by the principle (Gemara Shabbat 137a) that “when a person has erred in the course of performing a mitzvah, he is exempt from bringing a sin offering” (lit. טועה בדבר מצוה פטור מחיוב חטאת). No one should be afraid of failures or errors that occur as part of the teshuvah process. Instead, you must fortify your yirat Hashem, holiness, and sense of inspiration at every stage of the journey–  even when you make a wrong turn on the way to your destination. 

Commentary by Rav Moshe Weinberger (Song of Teshuvah, Vol. 4): When a person grows in Yiddishkeit, he is initially liberated from desires that had been plaguing him. His path seems clear and he feels good about himself. But “because the greater a person, the greater his evil inclination” (Gemara Sukkah 52a), he soon finds himself challenged by a new level of opposition… He expected that devoting himself to a more meaningful Yiddishkeit would earn him the world-to-come. Yet now he finds himself committing sins, or plagued by lowly desires, and he begins to think that he was better off before.

Nevertheless, he should not regret his resolve to serve G-d. To the contrary, he should realize that the troubles he is experiencing indicate that he is succeeding in his service of G-d… When a Jew’s life is spiritually trivial, even if he is keeping mitzvos, he is destroying himself and so the evil inclination ignores him. But the second that he grows stronger, the second that he begins to do something special and important, he experiences impediments and gains enemies. When he tries to accomplish anything meaningful…. he faces tremendous opposition. That tells him that he is doing something right.

A person may suffer terrible failures. Nevertheless, he should do teshuvah and move on. Once a Jew came to the Rizhiner Rebbe and confessed that he had committed adultery. He explained that it “just happened.” The Rebbe said, “That is the same way in which you should do teshuvah. Just let it happen.” When a person commits a sin, he does not make calculations. So too he should do teshuvah without calculations, without asking questions such as how this could have happened to him. He should consider that there are people much greater than him who had experienced more profound failures and fell to deeper places. With that thought, he should stop berating himself and simply do teshuvah.

When a person is not engaged in mitzvos, when he is living just to please himself, he sins because his life is unruly and meaningless. But when a person is engaged in mitzvos, any sin that he commits is refined and, in an inner sense, not even a sin part of but the fabric of his life of mitzvos. As a person does teshuvah — by fighting his evil inclination and struggling to become better, as he learns Torah, davens, and performs mitzvos — his life flows forward and upward….

In a broad sense, our Sages refer to this sort of individual when they speak of someone who “has erred in the course of performing a mitzvah.” They teach that if, in the course of performing a mitzvah, a person committed a sin, he is exempt from having to offer a sin offering because his intention was to do the mitzvah.[1] [For example, someone who is accidentally mechalel Shabbat in the course of performing a brit milah on Shabbat.]

Such a person may say that he committed the sin on purpose, that he knew what he was doing, that it was not an accident. We nevertheless tell him that he is wrong — that he was “erring in the course of performing a mitzvah”[i.e. the mitzvah of teshuvah].

Students in many yeshivas are constantly told that a person who has sinned is worthless, perverted, and corrupt. But if a sweet student who is living a life of holiness — working day and night to become a better Jew… commits a sin, somebody needs to tell him that he is not bad, and his path of teshuvah is simple. He need only do teshuvah, try not to let it happen again, and return to his Gemara. “He is exempt from bringing a sin offering.”

A person should not allow his failures to frighten, diminish or discourage him.

Questions for Discussion

1. What are some common impediments to doing teshuvah? How does a person break through them?
2. Is “inner teshuvah” always sincere and valuable? What is the difference between “inner teshuvah” and the idea of being a ‘Jew at heart’ (i.e. without mitzvah observance), which Orthodox Judaism decisively rejects?
3. As mentioned above, our Sages teach that “the greater a person, the greater his evil inclination.” Is this counterintuitive? Why or why not? And why did G-d create us this way?
4. Rav Moshe Weinberger writes “When a person commits a sin, he does not make calculations. So too he should do teshuvah without calculations, without asking questions such as how this could have happened to him.” Do you agree? Why or why not?
5. How can person strengthen their will to do teshuva?