Printable PDF available here. Previous pieces on V’Zot haBeracha can be found here and here.

Rav Kook (Based on Pinkesei haRe’iah, ח׳א ע׳ קצה–קצו)

He [the tribe of Dan] saw the first portion for himself, because there, the portion of the lawgiver (lit. מחוקק) [Moshe] is hidden. (Devarim 33:21)

Sealing and engraving are both ways of affixing words to an object, but they work in fundamentally different ways. A signet ring contains an engraved or raised design that is pressed into wax. The imprint of the seal is not apparent until the ring is removed and the wax has had time to set. Furthermore, the material that the seal is applied to must be weak and pliable, flexible enough to absorb the imprint of the seal and then harden. A strong and rigid substance simply cannot be used.

Engraving works in a very different way. The harder the material one engraves in, the more enduring and durable their message will be. Thus, what is a deficiency for the act of sealing is a necessity in the process of engraving. Furthermore, when one engraves words into a hard medium, the result of their work is apparent immediately, even before he has lifted his tools from the stone.

In this parshah, Moshe is referred to as a mechokek, an engraver. Moshe did not simply deliver the Torah to Israel at Sinai, like a prophetic mailman bringing a letter from heaven to an eager audience. Moshe’s Torah was engraved upon our very being while G-d held the mountain itself over our heads. According to the Midrash, interpreting the verse “the voice of the Lord sunders through fiery flames” (קול ה׳ חוצב להבות אש) (Tehillim 29:7), the Ten Commandments emanated from G-d as fire and became engraved on the stone luchot. The impact of the Divine word, in all of its might and force, was manifest immediately, both upon the luchot and upon Israel itself. For these reasons, Moshe is referred to as a mechokek, an engraver, and the very end of the Torah refers to his “strong hand” (lit. היד החזקה).

However, this is only one dimension of Torah. For the Torah is not only engraved upon our hearts, but sealed as well. In other words, the full impact of the Torah did not become fully manifest in Moshe’s generation or at Mount Sinai. Like wax that hardens gradually, only after being imprinted by a signet ring, there are depths of Torah that take generations to manifest and assume their form. This dimension of Torah is constituted by minhagim and rabbinic enactments, which developed only after the revelation at Sinai. Furthermore, like the soft wax that a signet ring is pressed into, these parts of Jewish life are dependent on the acceptance of the community for their binding force. Indeed, the Talmud speaks of various rabbinic enactments that were initially rejected by the broader community and did not receive universal acceptance until later generations. And although it took time for these dimensions of Torah to develop, once the ‘wax’ had ‘set,’ the G-dly design expressed in minhagim and rabbinic enactments became immutable, to the point that our Sages (Talmud Yerushalmi, Berachot 1:4) teach that rabbinic laws are treated even more strictly than those of the Torah itself.

Questions for Discussion

1. What is the purpose of minhagim in Torah life? Why do we keep them?
2. Many commentators ask why G-d had to hold the mountain over our heads at the giving of the Torah, inasmuch as the people had already willingly agreed to accept it. Based on Rav Kook’s insights, can you suggest an answer?
3. What are some aspects of Torah life that only developed after the Torah was given?
4. Rav Kook writes that not all dimensions of Torah became manifest immediately at Har Sinai. If that is the case, how do we distinguish legitimate developments in Torah from illegitimate ones?
5. What is unique about Simchat Torah compared to other holidays? Is Simchat Torah part of the “sealing” of Torah or the “engraving” of Torah?
6. The Torah says that the Ten Commandments were engraved (חרות) on the luchot. In Pirkei Avot, our Sages teach that “Only one who engages in Torah is free,” vocalizing חרות as cheirut (freedom) instead of charut (engraved). Does this fit with Rav Kook’s analysis that engraving is something imprinted on stone by force, as opposed to the soft and pliable wax used with a seal? If so, how?

Printable PDF is available here. Last year’s piece on V’Zot haBeracha is available here.

With G-d’s help, I  have completed a second cycle of the Torah sharing Rav Kook’s wisdom to illuminate our lives. I look forward to continuing with you again. A Chag Sameach to all.

Rav Kook (Shemonah Kevatzim, 1:192)

“And he was King in Jeshurun, whenever the sum total of the people were gathered, and the tribes of Israel were together.” (Devarim 33:4)

According to certain commentaries and midrashim, the subject of this verse is Moshe. Moshe’s status as a king is not incidental, but a profound reflection of his immense spiritual stature.

In general, people excel at either the practical realities of life or the abstract world of the spirit. It is rare to find someone who combines both. The religious sensitivity of worldly, practical people usually lacks the sharpness and clarity of those who deal exclusively with spiritual matters. And similarly, those who inhabit the highest spiritual realms tend to lack a clear perception of the world’s practical realities.

For this reason, G-d ordained that the two institutions of prophecy and kingship operate separately. In Tanach, we do not find a prophet wearing the king’s crown, nor the king donning the mantle of the prophet. Although they worked together, like we see most clearly with King David and Shmuel, they still had separate domains of responsibility

The one exception in Jewish history was Moshe Rabbeinu. Our Sages teach that Moshe’s spiritual level was “through a clear lens” (lit. אספקלריא המאירה”). This supernal level of prophecy enabled him to encompass all levels of reality in a harmonious unity. Moshe spoke directly to G-d – but he also listened to the Jews’ complaints, provided them with food, and led them into battle.

Thus, while we all know that Moshe’s prophecy was sui generis, this verse highlights an additional dimension of his greatness – that he was also a king. His feet were planted firmly on the ground at the same time that his soul soared in the highest realms.

Rav Kook (Otzrot ha’Reiah, 2:517)

“And He buried him [Moshe] in the valley, in the land of Moav, opposite Beth Pe’or. And no person knows the place of his burial, unto this day.” (Devarim 34:6)

The concealment of Moshe’s burial place must be understood as an expression of the same Divine ideal behind a number of other Torah laws – namely, the prohibition against Kohanim and Nazirites becoming tamei through contact with death, and the prohibition against bringing any sort of tumah into the Temple. All of these phenomena are intended to teach us that the Torah is a Torah of life (lit. תורת חיים). All of them aim to dispel the misconception that fulfilling the Torah requires us to constrain the full manifestation and unfolding of life. That terrible error can only lead to compartmentalization, to designating a fragmentary portion of human reality as “religious” and abandoning the rest. That is not the Torah way.

Food for Thought

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Commentary to the Torah, Vayikra 21:1): Antique and modem heathenism like so very much to associate religion and religious matters with death and thoughts of death. For them it is where Man ends that the Kingdom of G-d begins. For them death and dying are the real manifestations of their G-dhead, who to them is a G-d of death and not of life. A G-d who kills and does not animate, and sends death and its fore-runners, illness and wretchedness, so that men should fear him, realize his power and their impotence. The places which they dedicate to temples are therefore round about graves, (1) the foremost place of their priest is therefore at the dead and dying. (2) There, where the light is fading from the eye, and hearts are broken, is the most fruitful field for their religious sowing.

Not so is the Jewish priest because not so is the Jewish teaching of G-d, the Jewish religion. The G-d, Whose Name assigns the Jewish priest to his office is a G-d of life. His sublimest manifestation is the elevating power of Life, freeing, animating, raising Man to free will and to eternal life, not the crushing power of death. Not how one is to die, but how one is to live, how, living, one has victoriously to conquer death, death in life, thralldom, enslaved by one’s physical urges, moral weakness, how one has to live every second of a morally free, thinking, desiring, working and accomplishing life, and also enjoying all the pleasures of life as a moment of service to G-d, that is the teaching to which G-d has dedicated His Sanctuary, and for the service of which He has consecrated the Kohanim to care for the “basis of life and direction thereof.”

When Death summons the people to come to busy themselves in acts of love with the empty body of a נפש which G-d has called home, the Kohanim have to remain away, and by standing away to keep aloft the Standard of Life next to the corpse, and by the thoughts of what life really is, prevent the thoughts of death overpowering the truths that the real Man himself is morally free and not subject to forces which kill his power over his own moral free will. Only where the duties of life call on the priest personally to fulfil the last possible acts of love to the empty shell of the נפש of his wife, child, parent, brother or sister, or where the forsaken state of a corpse makes him to a father and brother of the forsaken one, there his calling as a priest has to retire behind the calling of family and humanity, and his activity with the dead is not only permitted but is a duty. Otherwise priests have to keep away from dead bodies.

(1) In Europe, beginning in the Middle Ages, cemeteries were generally constructed around churches.

(2) Rav Hirsch appears to be referring to the Christian practice of a priest administering last rites.

Rav Moshe Weinberger (Song of Teshuva, Vol. 4): [Many] spiritually inclined people… are not comfortable in this world, and… thus do not function well, even in performing mitzvos and good deeds. Although such a person experiences life deeply, he does not succeed in the world of action. He does not know how to apply the poem of his inner reality to the prose of everyday life — how to adjust his feelings and emotions to the outer world…

Because such a person’s practical life is out of sync with his internal life, he experiences a lack of symmetry. His failure to actualize his deep, inner being causes him to experience an unbearable sadness. He feels a gaping wound in his heart, and he does not know what to do about it, because he is not equipped to work things out practically. This person’s soul is naturally inclined towards melancholy. He feels like a stranger in this world, as though he has left his real self behind. He experiences a gap between his spiritual dreams and his present existence.

Such a person usually has the following two characteristics: a strong spiritual inclination, and difficulty in functioning successfully in the practical realities of this world. And his failure to accomplish tasks sharpens his awareness of his inadequacy and thus intensifies his sufferings. Something is missing in his ability to tend enthusiastically and successfully to reality. He does not dress properly and does not take care of his home and possessions. He may have trouble holding onto a job. Although he may have a sense of responsibility for practical life, it is not well-defined. His awareness that he must take care of his family is unclear and does not enter into the necessary details…

Practical people look at him and are shocked. Conversely, when he looks at them he is shocked by what he thinks is their emptiness and thoughtless happiness. But at the same time, when he looks at the contrast between how they are succeeding and he is failing, he falls into despair. His nefesh— the closest part of his spiritual self to his physical being — grows depressed because it sees that he is not coming to terms with his responsibilities. It is bewildered by his failure to dress properly, take care of his family, function at work, and so forth.

A practical person, on the other hand, who is not invested in the depth of his emotions does not suffer from such sadness, because the whole of his life, including Torah and mitzvos, is in greater balance. He does not feel that his inner and outer realities are out of step. Such a person, naturally inclined to practical accomplishment, is successful at work, at managing his home, and so on. He does not feel that he has left his true self behind. He does not feel conflicted by some deeper longing. He is at peace with who he is and with what he does. The disadvantage of being such a person, however, is that when his soul cries out, he often does not hear it.

The person who is strongly connected to the practical world is often characterized by spiritual shallowness. If someone talks to him about matters on the level of the soul, he feels uncomfortable, and he dismisses them as fluff. A passage from a text such as Bilvav’i Mishkan Evneh (a contemporary inspirational series) sounds to him as though it were written in Japanese. He interprets closeness to G-d in terms of fulfilling his responsibilities to daven Mincha and eat kosher. He only likes music, including Jewish music that arouses his body and nefesh.

Typically, such a person is successful at work, with his family, and in his adherence to the Shulchan Aruch. Because his deficiencies exist in the realm of his inner soul and are thus far removed from his immediate reality, he is not aware of them. When he looks at himself, he sees only his strong points, and so he is pleased with himself. As for the other type of person — the individual who has a rich inner spiritual life but is failing in his dealings with the practical world — his deficiencies stand directly before his eyes, and as a result he is sad and worried…

Questions for Discussion

1. Do you agree with Rav Kook that practical and spiritual excellence don’t usually come together in a single person?
2. In what way did Moshe function as a “king”?
3. What might be other reasons why G-d concealed Moshe’s burial place?
4. Where else in Judaism do we see an emphasis on the value of life?

Printable PDF available here.

Rav Kook (Shemonah Kevatzim 4:106, Arpalei Tohar, 126)

And never was there a prophet who arose in Israel like Moshe, whom the Lord knew face to face, as manifested by all the signs and wonders that the Lord sent him to perform in the land of Egypt, for Pharaoh and all his servants, and for all his land, and all the strong hand, and all the great awe (lit. המורא הגדול), which Moses performed before the eyes of all Israel. Rashi: The phrase “before the eyes of all Israel” alludes to the incident where Moshe’s heart stirred him up to smash the luchot before their eyes, as it is said, “and I shattered them before your eyes” (Devarim 9:17). And our Sages teach that the Holy One Blessed is He approved of Moshe’s actions. (Devarim 34:10-12)

Like all other G-dly values principles, yirat Hashem must be calibrated, healthy and balanced. However, some people are overwhelmed by the magnitude of their religious and ethical obligations. They are crushed by fear that they have let G-d down and failed as ovdei Hashem. They suffer from an excess of Divine fear (lit. yirah), which traps them in passivity and prevents them from living an active life of Divine service. Their unique strengths and aptitudes remain dormant, suffocated underneath an excess of fear. One must act with wisdom in order to clear away this burden, so that his Divine potential can be actualized, so that he can live an active and vigorous life in service of G-d.

How does one achieve this? Why are some people energized by the thought of standing in G-d’s presence, while others fall into passivity and depression? What separates the healthy yirah that G-d wants us to strive for from yirah which is unhealthy and burdensome?

The answer is that it all depends on how one understands the “Hashem” of yirat Hashem. Although G-d’s true nature is unknowable, Jewish life is not about G-d’s ineffable essence, but His revelation to us and our relationship with Him. The central truth of Judaism is not that G-d exists, but that He cares about us and that we stand in his presence.

Now, a shallow and simplistic understanding of G-d places an unhealthy emphasis on G-d transcendent, infinite majesty. It emphasizes man’s pitiful and insignificant stature. It is deeply uncomfortable with man’s dignity as the bearer of tzelem elokim, and prefers instead to accentuate that מותר האדם מן הבהמה אין. In the time between his creation from dust and his return to dust, he is either outrightly sinful or constantly tempted by sin. Sin “crouches at the door,” but never leaves. This is yirat Hashem – but it is yirat Hashem that is devoid of knowledge (lit. יראת שמים שאין בה דעה). And it turns man into a squirming and pathetic idler (lit. זוחל ובטלן), who can do little more for G-d than grovel for His mercy and forgiveness.

Granted, true yirat Hashem also acknowledges G-d’s transcendence and requires that man “walk humbly before G-d.” But its humility is healthy and calibrated. It encourages man to broaden the splendor of his Divine soul, to a deepen his understanding of the world and his life in it. It arouses his Divinely given powers of imagination and thought, and demands that he delve into wisdom, science, ethics, language and culture, to purify them and use their power for holy living.

Israel strives for all of these through the Torah, in its broadest and most expansive manifestation. We must be diligent to ensure that the path of Torah broadens our thoughts and aspirations, instead of constricting and crushing them. We must proceed with calm and confidence, and not allow unhealthy yirah to block our spiritual potential from blossoming forth. With awareness of the supernal and holy source of our calling, with mindfulness of the boundary that separates good from wickedness, we must proceed with vigor, full of holy gevurah and supernal humility, warmed by the Divine light that entrusted us to build and accomplish wonders for ourselves and for the entire world.

Commentary

Rav Kook does not directly link his insights on yirat Hashem to Moshe destroying the luchot, but it seems to perfectly encapsulate his point. Moshe came closer to G-d than any other human being who ever existed. The Torah tells us that he was the humblest person on earth. And yet, his humility and awareness of Divine majesty did not paralyze him or keep him from taking bold and decisive action. Can you imagine the audacity, the courage it must have taken for Moshe to smash the luchot when he came down from Har Sinai? Put yourself in his shoes! “G-d did not tell me to destroy the luchot, His sacred handiwork. Maybe I’ll be punished. Maybe I should just sit back and wait on the sidelines.” And yet, we know this is not what happened. Clearly, yirat Hashem and humility do not in all instances demand passivity and quietism. Moshe was bold and decisive not despite his yirat Hashem, but because of it.

Food for Thought

Mishlei 28:14: Fortunate is the man who is always fearful, but he who hardens his heart will fall into evil. אַשְׁרֵ֣י אָ֖דָם מְפַחֵ֣ד תָּמִ֑יד וּמַקְשֶׁ֥ה לִ֜בּ֗וֹ יִפּ֥וֹל בְּרָעָֽה.

Ramchal (Introduction to Mesilat Yesharim): As Shelomo said: “If you seek it like silver, and search for it as for hidden treasures, then you shall understand the fear of the Lord” (Mishlei 2:4-5). He did not say: “Then you shall understand philosophy, then you shall understand astronomy, then you shall understand medicine, then you shall understand the laws, then you shall understand halakhot,” but rather “Then you shall understand the fear of the Lord.” You see, then, that in order to understand the fear of God one must seek it like silver and search for it as for hidden treasures.

Second, the fear of God requires wisdom and study… Scripture states: “The fear of the Lord alone [‘hen’] is wisdom” (Iyyov 28:28). And our Rabbis, of blessed memory, interpreted the word “hen” in the sense of “one,” for in Greek “hen” means “one” (Shabbat 31b). You see, then, that fear of God is wisdom, and that it alone is wisdom. And that which does not require study can surely not be called wisdom.

Dr. Erica Brown (Fear and Its Role in Adult Jewish Education):Yirat shamayim – that mysterious co-mingling of religious awe, fear, and an exalted sense of the sublime – is becoming a more elusive aspect of spiritual life today. Religion for vast segments of the American population has become a feel-good hobby that generates harmony and happiness, community involvement, and lowers stress levels. Yirat shamayim, however, is demanding. Fear of God involves another landscape of emotions entirely: humility, insecurity, submission, and surrender.

This sea-change in religious attitudes and expectations may best be described by a simple question posed by the art critic Michael Kimmelman. He wonders why we no longer paint pictures of mountains, why they no longer have a hold on us as a natural manifestation of religious dread. He entertains the possibility that the urbanization of society has made our attitude to mountains, among other awe-inspiring aspects of nature, less about fear and more about pleasure. Mountains are no longer wild, irregular, and asymmetrical natural structures that make us feel small through their vastness. Today we can cable-car or hike up mountains and then ski down them. We may even have cellphone reception at their peaks. It is hard to be in awe of something so easy to conquer.

Rabbi Efrem Goldberg(When is the Last Time You Had Goosebumps?):The home of the great composer Ludwig van Beethoven has been preserved and serves as a museum in Bonn, Germany. One historical gem in the museum is the piano upon which Beethoven composed most of his renowned works. The piano is estimated to be worth more than $50 million and is understandably roped off and out of the reach of the thousands of visitors who pass it by each day.

A group of students from Vassar College was once visiting the Beethoven museum. Matthew Kelly tells the story of how one of the students came to the room that held the piano and couldn’t resist the temptation to ask a museum guard if she could play it for a moment. The guard allowed himself to be influenced by her generous tip and let the young woman beyond the ropes for a few moments. She sat at the famed piano and knocked out several bars of Moonlight Sonata. When she finished, her classmates applauded.

As she stepped back through the ropes, the young woman asked the guard, “I suppose over the years, all the great pianists that have come here have played the piano?” “No, miss,” the guard replied. “In fact, just two years ago I was standing in this very place when Ignacy Paderewski visited the museum. He was accompanied by the director of the museum and the international press, who had all come in the hope that he would play the piano. “When he entered the room he stood over there, where your friends are standing and gazed at the piano in silent contemplation for almost fifteen minutes. The director of the museum then invited him to play the piano, but with tears welling in his eyes Paderewski declined, saying that he was not worthy even to touch it.”

Non-human mammals get what we call goosebumps, the constriction of skin surrounding hair follicles, when they feel threatened or attacked. Only human beings get goosebumps for a different feeling: awe. Awe is the feeling of being in the presence of greatness, of being exposed to that which is transcendent or extraordinary. Paderewski was in a room with Beethoven’s piano and was frozen with awe. The young student saw the piano and thought it would be cool to casually play it.

Questions for Discussion

1. What are ways that one can acquire yirat Hashem? Which way resonates the most with you?
2. How does the excerpt from Ramchal (in Food For Thought, above) support Rav Kook’s basic argument?
3. What do you think yirat Hashem means?
4. Rav Kook has his own ideas about how to distinguish between healthy and unhealthy yirat Hashem. What do you think are some are other ways to distinguish?
5. Does our generation have an easier or a harder time acquiring yirat Hashem, compared to earlier generations? Why?