Sabbath: Heavenly or Down to Earth? – Parshat Vayakhel/Pekudei

Printable PDF available here. Previous pieces on Vayakhel/Pekudei are here and here.

**Rav Kook (Based on Ein Ayah, Gemara Shabbat 49b)**

Six days work may be done, but the seventh day shall be holy to you, a day of complete rest to the Lord; whoever performs work on this day shall be put to death. (Shemot 35:2)

What is the source for the 39 primary categories of melacha which are prohibited on Shabbat? Rabbi Ḥanina bar Ḥama said “They correspond to the labors in the Mishkan.” Rabbi Yonatan son of Rabbi Elazar… said “They correspond to the instances of the words מלאכה (labor), מלאכתו (his labor) and מלאכות (labors) [which appear in the Torah a total of 39 times]. (Gemara Shabbat 49b)

What is the significance of this dispute between the Sages on the source for the 39 categories of prohibited Sabbath labor (lit. אבות מלאכות)? Is this simply a technical disagreement, or is there something more fundamental at issue in whether we derive from the Mishkan or from the number of times “labor” is written in the Torah?

It seems that the resolution of the matter is as follows. In deriving the prohibition of labor from the Mishkan, Rabbi Hanina is highlighting the transcendental character of Shabbat. Shabbat is a Divine gift that reflects the perfection and completeness of its Creator. Shabbat transports us to a realm of supernal holiness, where work is prohibited not because we need a break from the travails of the workweek, but because everything has reached its ultimate purpose. Wherever the light of Sabbath holiness shines, work and preparation are banished. For work implies imperfection, and one only needs to prepare if they have not already reached completion. But as the sun slips below the horizon and Shabbat enters, existence ascends from a state of ‘becoming’ to a state of ‘being.’ The struggles of the week ebb away, and we enter into a semblance of the World to Come, מעין עולם הבא.

Given this lofty conception of Shabbat, it would be unacceptable to derive the 39 prohibited labors from an ordinary, profane context. Thus, Rabbi Hanina teaches that they are derived from the Mishkan itself, the most intense domain of holiness and the locus of Divine closeness in our world. According to Rabbi Hanina, the fact that creating a home for G-d requires human labor is a reflection of the incomplete and flawed nature of our reality. After all, in the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve walked directly with G-d and beheld his presence directly, in all places and at all times. No Mishkan was needed. The institution of a Mishkan – like the concept of work itself – is a post-Edenic reality. By teaching that the 39 prohibited labors are derived from the Mishkan itself, Rabbi Hanina is highlighting the transcendental character of Shabbat. He is alluding to Shabbat as an experience of “the day that is entirely Shabbat,” the day that “One will no longer teach his neighbor or his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know Me from their smallest to their greatest” (Yirmiyahu 31:33).

However, Rabbi Yonatan disagreed with Rabbi Hanina. He was not comfortable with lifting Shabbat into the transcendent realm and leaving the rest of reality behind. For him, the division of reality between holy and profane (lit. חול), between the Mishkan and the rest of the world, is not a reflection of the flawed and fallen character in the world. When all of humanity’s actions, emotions, talents and aptitudes are unified and oriented towards the Holy, there is no difference between holy and profane. Life in its totality becomes one integrated whole, all of which is Holy of Holies (lit. קדש קדשים).

Seen in this light, the world of labor and preparation is also an integral part of the Shabbat experience. The holiness of Shabbat washes over not only the sacred world of the Mishkan, but also upon all of man’s worldly strivings and struggles. Shabbat elevates all of them to a domain free of labor and struggle, where everything is suffused with light, joy, and delight – a domain of pure Purpose (lit. כולו תכליתי). The center, the Mishkan, will be uplifted, but the “branches” too will partake of the holiness and blessing of the Shabbath, which uplifts and unifies all dimensions of reality. For this reason, the 39 prohibited labors correspond to “the [39] instances of the words מלאכה (labor), מלאכתו )his labor) and מלאכות(labors).”

Food for Thought

Rabbi Akiva Tatz: Shabbat is described as “me’eyn olam ha’ba” – a small degree of the experience of the next world. There is an idea that all spiritual realities have at least one tangible counterpart in the world so that we can experience them: it would be too difficult to relate to the abstract if we could never have any direct experience of it. Sleep is a sixtieth of the death experience; a dream is a sixtieth of prophecy. Shabbat is a sixtieth of the experience of the next world.

Why specifically a sixtieth? What is unique about the proportion of one in sixty? One who has a sensitive ear will hear something very beautiful here. One in sixty is that proportion which is on the borderline of perception: in the laws of kashrut there is a general rule that forbidden mixtures of foods are in fact forbidden only if the admixture of the prohibited component comprises more than one part in sixty. If a drop of milk accidentally spills into a meat dish that dish would not be forbidden if less than one part in sixty were milk – the milk cannot be tasted in such dilution. The halachic borderline is set at that point where taste can be discerned.

The beautiful hint here is that Shabbat is one sixtieth of the intensity of olam ha’ba – it is on the borderline of taste: if one lives Shabbat correctly one tastes the next world. If not, one will not taste it at all. How is the higher taste experienced? By desisting from work. Not work in the sense of exertion, that is a serious misconception of Shabbat. What is halted on Shabbat is melacha – creative activity. Thirty-nine specific creative actions were needed to build the Mishkan in the desert; these mystically parallel the activities God performed to create the Universe – the Mishkan is a microcosm, a model of the Universe. God rested from His creation, we rest from parallel creative actions. The week is built by engaging in those actions constructively, Shabbat is built by desisting from those very actions. The Mishkan represented the dimension of holiness in space, Shabbat is the dimension of holiness in time.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (Haggadah, Chapter 4): Shabbat, the sabbatical year and the Jubilee became Judaism’s most original contribution to political life. In the history of the human mind there have been many utopias, imagined paradises. None has been realized. Indeed, the word ‘utopia’ itself means ‘no place.’ Utopias never happen because they come without a realistic map of how to get from here to there. They are discontinuous with the present. They can only be brought about by revolution, and almost without exception, revolutions replace iniquities and inequities with injustices of their own. What is unique to Judaism is the sabbatical concept of utopia now, a rehearsal, every seventh day and seventh year, of an ideal social order in which rest is part of the public domain, available equally to all. The Sabbath is the lived enactment of the messianic age, a world of peace in which striving and conflict are (temporarily) at an end and all creation sings a song of being to its Creator.

Questions for Discussion

In what way is Shabbat an experience of the World to Come?
Can you think of any other reasons for the 39 prohibited labors to be derived from the Mishkan? (Hint: Think about parallels between creation/Shabbat and the Mishkan).
What can one do in order to experience the transcendent dimension of Shabbat as a ‘taste of the World to Come?’
Why does the Torah command us to keep Shabbat?
Is Rabbi Sacks, in “Food for Thought” above saying the same thing as Rav Kook, or slightly different?

Miracles and Freedom – Parshat Ki Tisa

Flashback: Original 1956 review of 'The Ten Commandments' in the Daily News - New York Daily News

**Rav Kook (Ein Eyah, vol. IV, pg. 249)**

Excerpted from Rabbi Chanan Morrison’s RavKookTorah.org

The Luchot — the stone tablets that Moses carried down from Mount Sinai — were truly remarkable. The Torah describes them as being “made by G-d” and “written with G-d’s script” (Exod. 32:16).

What was so unusual about the writing on the Luchot? The letters on the Luchot were engraved on both sides. According to Talmudic tradition, this engraving went all the way through the stone, from one side to the other.

This tradition is especially amazing when taking into account that two Hebrew letters — the final Mem (ם) and the Samekh (ס) — have the topological shape of a donut. How did the holes inside these letters — holes fashioned in stone — not fall out? The Talmud answers that “The Mem and the Samekh letters in the Luchot stood there miraculously” (Shabbat 104a).

Why were the Luchot accompanied by continual miracles? And is it significant that there were miracles specifically with the letters Mem and Samekh?

What is the essence of a Divine miracle? Supernatural phenomena demonstrate that the world is not limited to a system of cause and effect. They reveal the Divine force that sustains all of reality, both material and spiritual, directly from the word of G-d, Creator of all.

This a fundamental tenet of Torah. We are free to act as we choose. We are not robots, acting out our lives as dictated by causal determinism, bound by the dictates of nature, genetics, and environment.

In particular, this quality of freedom is related to the Luchot, the symbol of the covenant of Torah at Sinai. The Sages noted that the word charut, describing the words engraved on the Luchot, can be read as cheirut — freedom. “The only free person,” they taught, “is one who engages in the study of Torah” (Avot 6:2).

The Luchot announced to the world: just as my letters stand by G-d’s will, unfettered by the laws of physics, so too, you are free to act as you choose. The entire universe is upheld by G-d’s will.

Why did this miracle specifically relate to the Mem and the Samekh?

The letter Mem refers to water (mayim) — the first created substance: “G-d’s spirit moved over the water” (Gen. 1:2). This primordial substance was supported by G-d’s spirit, the basis of all reality. Divine will transcends all aspects of causality; it is the basis for the absolute freedom which the Torah gives the world.

In particular, this letter is the Final Mem (ם) — the “Closed” (i.e. Esoteric) Mem — indicating the hidden spiritual source of the universe.

With regard to the letter Samekh: the word someikh means “to support.” The universe is not bound by causal determinism, but is supported and sustained by G-d’s will and His infinite light and good.

This is the essence of miracles in the world. They were revealed in the past, are revealed in the present, and will be revealed in the future, through the light of Torah and its message of freedom.

The Tachash’s Splendor – Parshat Terumah

Mishkan

Printable PDF available here. A prior piece on Parshat Terumah is available here.

Rav Kook (Ein Ayah, Gemara Shabbat 28b)

And this is the offering that you shall take from them: gold, silver, and copper… ram skins dyed red, tachash skins, and acacia wood… (Shemot 25:3-5)

The taḥash that existed in the days of Moses was a unique species… It was fortuitously provided to Moshe to make one of the coverings for the Mishkan, after which this species was concealed and no longer found. (Gemara Shabbat 28b)

In Aramaic, tachash is referred to ‘Sasgona.’ Our Sages explained this as a reference to its multicolored hide – the tachash is “Proud (lit. “sas”) of its many vivid colors (lit “gona”). It seems that the multihued tachash is a metaphor, representing the desire to include as many talents and gifts as possible when building up the Jewish people – even talents that, on their own and without a proper framework of holiness, might have a negative influence.

However, this integration cannot be fully achieved in an imperfect, pre-Messianic world. The tachash could only be used in the desert, where the people lived an otherworldly existence, unconcerned with the temptations and challenges that would confront them once they entered the Land of Israel. The reality of the Torah as revealed to Moses’ generation was not one suited to practice or application; it was rather the very essence of holiness itself. In our current imperfect state of existence, we are neither worthy nor capable of using this overwhelming holy light to guide our ways. This is the deeper meaning of the tachash disappearing after it contributed its hide to the Mishkan.

However, the tachash was merely hidden away (lit. נגנג). A day will come when all of reality will be uplifted and purified, and the multihued splendor of the tachash can reappear. At the end of history, all of humanity’s talents and gifts will contribute to building up the House of G-d. When Divine majesty permeates every corner of existence and the spirit of impurity has been removed from the earth, there will be no nation, no inclination and no character trait that will be turned away, that cannot be harnessed for holy purposes.

We should note the deeper nuance of tachash being concealed, as opposed to destroyed. In other words, the splendor of the tachash that will emerge at the end of history is not something new that G-d will insert into or impose upon reality. It is present now, but concealed because humanity cannot properly integrate and incorporate the tachash’s colors into its imperfect reality. When G-d removes the concealment, we will see what was truly there in potential all along.

In the interim, there are elite spiritual personalities to whom glimpses of those future colors are revealed. “He conceals wisdom for [sharing with] the upright, a shield for those who walk in integrity” (Mishlei 2:7). But for the rest of us, it is sufficient to know that existence is destined for deeper, richer, more G-dly reality, a reality which already exists and is already present even now, like a seed that germinates underground and eventually bursts forth from its slumber beneath the soil. As Isaiah declared (66:22) “For as the new heavens and the new earth that I am making stand before Me (lit. עומדים לפני)” says the Lord, “so shall your seed and your name endure.” It does not say that the new heavens and the new earth “will stand” (lit. יעמדו) before G-d, but that they stand in front of Him, even now.

Healing and Health – Parshat Mishpatim

Printable PDF available here. Previous years’ pieces on Parshat Mishpatim are available here and here.

**Rav Kook (Ein Ayah, Gemara Berachot 60a)**

Rav Acha taught that if one is about to engage in bloodletting [a basic medical procedure in pre-modern times], he should say “May it be Your will, O Lord my G-d, that this enterprise be for healing and that You should heal me. As You are a faithful G-d of healing and Your healing is truth. Because it is not the [proper] way that people should heal, but they have become accustomed to it.” [I.e., people should ideally not practice medicine, and healing should rather be left to G-d.]

Abaye objected that one should not say this. As it was taught in the academy of Rabbi Yishmael, from the verse [in Parshat Mishpatim] “And he shall cause him to be thoroughly healed” (Shemot 21:19), we derive that permission is granted to a doctor to heal. [I.e., the practice of medicine is in accordance with the will of G-d.]

The human body is a complex entity, with various organs and faculties bound together. The soul is similarly comprised of various emotional and intellectual components, which are bound together in a wondrous manner with the physical body. No person can pridefully declare that he has fully mapped out the full complexity of the human body or that he understands its full depth.

From this perspective, medical science is an ultimately unreliable discipline. Even if a doctor can heal a specific illness within the purview of his or her narrow expertise, who can assure that the treatment administered will not have undesirable and unforeseen side-effects? Perhaps these side-effects will throw the patient into disequilibrium and prove to do more harm than good. In light of our imperfect knowledge, no medical treatment can be guaranteed to be totally and unqualifiedly beneficial. This was the perspective expressed by Rav Acha, who cast aspersions on the reliability of medical knowledge. “Because it is not the [proper] way that people should heal, but they have become accustomed to it.” At the same time, experience demonstrates that medicine does frequently discover important truths that bring about healing and improve human welfare. How are we to reconcile these competing perspectives? According to Rav Acha, we must relate to medicine as a wonder of Divine governance and something that is ultimately out of our hands. We do the best we can but remain aware that our efforts are meager and our knowledge is fragmentary. Healing is ultimately in G-d’s hands. His “healing is truth,” while ours is inherently falsifiable, incomplete and liable to do more harm than good.

However, our sacred tradition contains other perspectives as well. Not all of the Sages agreed that the discipline of medicine is somehow religiously illegitimate or compromised. R. Yishmael maintained that we do not need to concern ourselves with contingencies or eventualities that lie beyond the scope of human understanding. Caution and humility are important values, but not in overabundance. A constant wariness against unforeseen consequences or side-effects undermines human initiative, and suffocates the religious imperative for humanity to improve the world – both the physical world and the inner dimension of the spirit. Man must live by the principle that הנסתרת לה׳ אלקינו והנגלת לנו ולבנינו עד־עולם לעשות את־כל־דברי התורה הזאת (Devarim 29:28) – “Hidden things are the concern of the Lord our G-d, but the revealed is for us and our children.”

R. Yishmael maintained that “a judge can only adjudicate based on what is own eyes see.” The Torah gave permission to a doctor to heal, without needing to constantly question or suspect the efficacy of his or her craft. A competent doctor does not usurp the Divine prerogative, but acts as a messenger of G-d to bring healing to His creations and improve His world. Far from being illegitimate, medical science is a Divine gift that flows down from heaven, as is every application of human intellect to the development and improvement of the world.“And he shall cause him to be thoroughly healed” (Shemot 21:19), from here we derive that permission is granted to a doctor to heal. In the words of Kohelet (7:19), “Wisdom affords strength to the wise” (Kohelet 7:19).

Food for Thought

Rambam (Commentary to the Mishnah, Pesachim 4:10): [Some maintain that seeking medical treatment indicates a lack of faith in G-d.] According to their faulty and foolish imagination, if a person is hungry and he turns to bread and eats it, undoubtedly relieving himself from that great distress, would we say that he has removed his trust from G-d? Fools, say to them, just as I thank G-d at mealtimes for providing me with something to remove my hunger and maintain me, so too we should thank Him for providing a cure that heals my illness when I use it.

The Wings of the Sun – Traditional Jewish Healing in Theory and Practice: After having been immersed in Rebbe Nachman’s profound and moving teachings about simchah and healing, his emphatic warnings against doctors may seem almost jarring. He urged his followers to avoid medicine even in cases of serious illness. He said that the majority of doctors have no understanding of the art of healing. Being far more likely to cause damage than to do any good, most doctors are nothing but agents of the Angel of Death (Rabbi Nachman’s Wisdom #50)…

Rebbe Nachman’s essential point in this teaching is that the true meaning of the rabbinic dictum that “the Torah gave the doctor license to heal” can be understood only in relation to the talmudic teaching that the sick person is healed “through a particular drug and a particular doctor on a particular date” (Avodah Zarah 55a). This second statement of the Rabbis defines and limits the extent of the doctor’s license to heal. Illness is seen as a heavenly decree, a “judgment.” Unless the decree is mitigated through pidyon nefesh, redemption of the soul, the illness will run its course, and only when its required duration is complete, as laid down in the decree, will the patient recover. In order for the illness to continue until a particular day and hour, the decree governs the very means by which the patient will eventually be cured: through “a particular drug and a particular doctor.” Thus if the doctor has “license to heal,” it is only as Heaven’s agent to release the patient from the decree of illness when its duration is complete. The doctor is like a prison warden who is given the key to open the cell only after the sentence has run its course. The only other circumstance in which the doctor has license to heal is when the decree against the patient has been revoked or mitigated through pidyon nefesh.

Rebbe Nachman’s response to the objection that many people receive medical treatment and recover is that the treatment itself is an incidental factor. The essential reason why the patient recovers is that the decree has reached its end, and therefore a heavenly-ordained chain of events ensures that his body heals. On the other hand, as long as the heavenly decree is in force, no matter what the patient or the doctors may try, nothing will avail. This would explain the common phenomenon of patients who wander from doctor to doctor in search of a cure, but nothing seems to help – until one day, often unexpectedly, a cure comes about through some quite simple remedy, or even spontaneously.

Shaar HaMitzvot (Parshat Ekev p. 60): Once a man came to the Ari and said that for two days he had been suffering intense pain in his shoulder. The Ari looked at him and said the reason for the pain was that instead of reciting the Grace after Meals directly after washing his hands at the conclusion of his meal (mayim acharonim), he had paused to study some Mishnah. The Rabbis said, “Recite the blessing directly (teikhef) after washing” (Berakhot 42a). TeiKheF, had turned into KaTeF), a “shoulder,” and this was why he felt the pain in his shoulder.

Permission Given to a Doctor to Heal (Rabbi Dr. Benjamin Gesundheit, MD PhD): It should be noted that the Posekim decided the law in accordance with the position of Rabbi Yishmael: Rif (Berakhot 44a), Maimonides (Hilkhot Berakhot 10:21), Rosh (Berakhot 9, no. 21), Tur and Shulchan Arukh (Orach Chayyim 230:4) codify only part of the talmudic passage in Berakhot 60a: “One who goes in to have his blood let should say: ‘May it be Your will, O Lord, my G-d, that this operation may be a cure for me, for You heal without payment.’ And when he goes out, he should say: ‘Blessed are you, O Lord, who heals the sick.’” The continuation of the prayer (“and may You heal me, for You are a faithful healing G-d, and Your healing is true”) and the Gemara’s explanation (“since men have no power to heal, but this is the common practice”), they all omit from their rulings. Rabbi Yishmael’s opposition (“A man should not speak thus…”) was accepted as law.

Questions for Discussion

As noted above, poskim decided the law in accordance with the position of Rabbi Yishmael. Does this mean that Rav Acha’s position is decisively rejected, or are there elements of truth to his position?
Is it a Torah value to take care of your health?
Rav Kook states that “Caution and humility are important values, but not in overabundance.” Can you think of examples that illustrate this point?
Why does the Torah need to give explicit “permission” to a doctor to heal? Why wouldn’t it be permitted by default?
See Rebbe Nachman quoted in “Food for Thought” above. Why does he disagree with Rav Kook?
Why do a disproportionate amount of Jews go into the medical profession?

Rest Stop – Parshat Yitro

Printable PDF available here. Previous years’ pieces on Yitro are available here and here.

**Rav Kook (Based on Ein Ayah, Gemara Shabbat 86b)**

What was the chronology of the period before the Torah was given on Mount Sinai? Rabbi Yose taught that Rosh Chodesh Sivan fell out on the first day of the week. On that first day, G-d did not say anything to Israel because they were weary from journeying. (Gemara Shabbat 86b)

The highest form of holiness demands the manifestation of complete life, in all of its fulness. Physical exhaustion impedes the noble expression of life’s breadth and purity, just as sadness or depression obstructs the emotional realm. An exhausted soul cannot manifest its potential for infinite fulness of elevated thought, profound emotional depth, or pureness of ethical conduct. A tired and weary individual is destined to fall prey to the scourge of Amalekite spiritual influences [1]. The exhaustion of his body will impede his spiritual development, and he will be unable to maintain true awe of G-d.

If one seeks to listlessly drag themselves forward on the journey to spiritual advancement, there is a grave danger that the search for G-d will become corrupted. One is liable to conclude that human weakness and enfeeblement is a Divine ideal, that the diminishment of life’s vitality and neglect of man’s physical side is a religious duty.

G-d forbid that our Torah would ever endorse such an approach! In the face of physical exhaustion, one must allow time for his strength to gradually return, until his physical and emotional faculties can express their full vitality. One must recuperate to the point that his physical constitution is suited to bear the surge of supernal holiness. Only once one’s strength is restored and conscious of his bodily vigor (lit. גבורת הגויה והבשר), only then can his physical nature serve as a base for the establishment of the vigor of his spirit and his soul (lit. גבורת הרוח והנשמה). In this restored and refreshed state, the light of Divine life will flow downwards upon him, like drops of dew descending upon freshly opened flower buds.

This is the deeper lesson behind Rabbi Yose’s teaching that G-d did not address the Israelites on the first day that they arrived at Sinai, because they were wearing from journeying.

[1] Rav Kook is alluding to the verse in Devarim 25:17-18 – “You shall remember what Amalek did to you on the way, when you went out of Egypt, how he happened upon you on the way and cut off all the stragglers at your rear, when you were faint and weary, and did not fear God.” According to Rav Kook, the Jews became vulnerable to Amalek because being “faint and weary” meant that they, i.e. the Israelites, lost some measure of fear of G-d. When the verse says “and he did not fear G-d,” it refers to Israel, not Amalek.

Questions for Discussion

Rav Kook writes that “The highest form of holiness demands the manifestation of complete life, in all of its fulness.” What do you think he means?
Do Rav Kook’s insights have any relevant to how or why we observe Shabbat?
Where does the halacha give expression to the value of taking care of one’s physical health?
Were the Jews really so exhausted upon arriving at Sinai?
What does being tired have to do with Amalek?

Concert In Utero – Parshat Beshalach

Printable PDF available here. Previous years’ pieces on Beshalach are available here and here.

Rav Kook (Based on Ein Ayah, Gemara Berachot 50a)

At the Yam Suf, even fetuses in their mothers’ wombs recited song. As it is stated in the chapter of Psalms that describes the Exodus from Egypt: “In assemblies, bless G-d, the Lord, from the source of Israel (lit. מקור ישראל)” – “source” is an allusion to the womb. (Gemara Berachot 50a)

This teaching of our Sages is strange and hard to make sense of. Is it meant to be taken literally? Did the fetuses really join in the Song of the Sea, like some strange in utero concert? Also, why do the Sages teach that unborn children participated specifically at this juncture, as opposed to any other miraculous or transcendent moment of Jewish history? Indeed, we don’t find the gemara or midrash asserting that fetuses were part of the giving of the Torah or praised G-d for any other miracle.

To resolve this puzzle, we need to investigate some fundamental aspects of Jewish identity and religious development. Israel’s national identity is rooted in awe and love of G-d (lit. יראת ה׳ ואהבתו), and these in turn are cultivated through various channels. A significant part of our spiritual development is self-driven. By accepting the Torah and living according to its precepts, we refine our dispositions and elevate our souls. Chinuch is another layer or component of our religious development. Our parents and communities educate us to aspire to Torah life. They train us to claim the inheritance that prior generations have bequeathed to us as our most precious treasure.

However, we also have an innate predisposition to a connection with the Divine, one that has nothing to do with our own actions or those who educated us. It is nature, not nurture. Every Jew possesses a soul drawn from the G-dly source of Israel (lit. מקור ישראל – the same phrase from Psalms cited by the gemara), and is possessed with an innate yearning for spiritual perfection and rejoicing in G-d. Not everyone succeeds at manifesting these yearnings, and sadly many Jews are not even consciously aware of them. But embers of spiritual passion smolder within every member of Israel.

When did Israel become aware of its own uniqueness? As a nation, when did we first encounter the embryonic potential that lay within us? The answer is that it transpired shortly after the Exodus, at the Yam Suf. At that point, of our own spiritual conduct was nothing to boast about. Before Moshe split the sea, we complained bitterly and demonstrated a lack of faith. Outwardly, our Sages even teach that we were indistinguishable from the Egyptians, and that the ministering angels could not understand why G-d chose to save us but drown our former masters. Similarly, we had minimal chinuch or training to speak of. It was barely a week before that we had performed our first mitzvah – the korban pesach – and witnessed G-d crush the might of Egyptian empire through the death of their firstborn.

But the fetuses in the womb had not even witnessed this. Their only connection to the world of G-dliness and spiritual truth was the fact that they’d been conceived by a Jewish mother and father. And yet Our Sages teach that even they participated in the Song at the Sea. Presumably, this is not meant to be taken literally, but to highlight the spiritual potential that comes from nature, as opposed to nurture. In other words, our Sages are not interested in teaching us about literal fetuses, but rather our own very real embryonic potential. The most profound and sublime Divine ideals are the birthright become of every member of Israel, no matter their background or prior choices.

Food for Thought

Sefas Emes (Beshalach): Then Moses and the children of Israel sang. After the exodus they became instruments to give witness to the Creator. As it states, “the people I formed for Myself that they might declare my praise (Is. 43:21). The midrash quotes the verse, “G-d lifted me out of the gruesome pit, the slimy clay, and set my feet on a rock, steadied my legs. G-d put a new song into my mouth, a hymn to our G-d. (Ps. 40:3-4). The meaning of “new” is that it forever carries this power of renewal. It can never be forgotten by the souls of Israel. It was not a throwaway that [our sages] established that we should sing this song each day. Israel’s faith [at the sea] was the this saving act would last for all generations…this song and the attachment to the Divine have been implanted in the Jewish soul forever. But until the exodus from Egypt they were not able to call it forth. Only after this was the longing for G-d revealed…thus on every Shabbat the soul and desire are set free. That is why Shabbat is “in remembrance of the exodus from Egypt” [and why we sing G-d’s praises on that day].

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (Covenant and Conversation, Ha’azinu 5777): There is something profoundly spiritual about music. When language aspires to the transcendent, and the soul longs to break free of the gravitational pull of the earth, it modulates into song. Jewish history is not so much read as sung. The rabbis enumerated ten songs at key moments in the life of the nation. There was the song of the Israelites in Egypt (see Is. 30:29), the song at the Red Sea (Ex. 15), the song at the well (Num. 21), and Ha’azinu, Moses’ song at the end of his life. Joshua sang a song (Josh. 10:12-13). So did Deborah (Jud. 5), Hannah (1 Sam. 2) and David (2 Sam. 22). There was the Song of Solomon, Shir ha-Shirim, about which Rabbi Akiva said, “All songs are holy but the Song of Songs is the holy of holies.” The tenth song has not yet been sung. It is the song of the Messiah.

Mystics go further and speak of the song of the universe, what Pythagoras called “the music of the spheres”. This is what Psalm 19 means when it says, “The heavens declare the glory of G-d; the skies proclaim the work of His hands . . . There is no speech, there are no words, where their voice is not heard. Their music carries throughout the earth, their words to the end of the world.” Beneath the silence, audible only to the inner ear, creation sings to its Creator.

So, when we pray, we do not read: we sing. When we engage with sacred texts, we do not recite: we chant. Every text and every time has, in Judaism, its own specific melody. There are different tunes for shacharit, mincha and maariv, the morning, afternoon and evening prayers. There are different melodies and moods for the prayers for a weekday, Shabbat, the three pilgrimage festivals, Pesach, Shavuot and Sukkot (which have much musically in common but also tunes distinctive to each), and for the Yamim Noraim, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. There are different tunes for different texts. There is one kind of cantillation for Torah, another for the haftorah from the prophetic books, and yet another for Ketuvim, the Writings, especially the five Megillot. There is a particular chant for studying the texts of the written Torah: Mishnah and Gemarah. So by music alone we can tell what kind of day it is and what kind of text is being used. Jewish texts and times are not colour-coded but music-coded. The map of holy words is written in melodies and songs.

Music has extraordinary power to evoke emotion. The Kol Nidrei prayer with which Yom Kippur begins is not really a prayer at all. It is a dry legal formula for the annulment of vows. There can be little doubt that it is its ancient, haunting melody that has given it its hold over the Jewish imagination. It is hard to hear those notes and not feel that you are in the presence of G-d on the Day of Judgment, standing in the company of Jews of all places and times as they plead with heaven for forgiveness. It is the holy of holies of the Jewish soul. Nor can you sit on Tisha B’av reading Eichah, the book of Lamentations, with its own unique cantillation, and not feel the tears of Jews through the ages as they suffered for their faith and wept as they remembered what they had lost, the pain as fresh as it was the day the Temple was destroyed. Words without music are like a body without a soul…

Faith is more like music than science. Science analyses, music integrates. And as music connects note to note, so faith connects episode to episode, life to life, age to age in a timeless melody that breaks into time. G-d is the composer and librettist. We are each called on to be voices in the choir, singers of G-d’s song. Faith is the ability to hear the music beneath the noise. So music is a signal of transcendence. The philosopher and musician Roger Scruton writes that it is “an encounter with the pure subject, released from the world of objects, and moving in obedience to the laws of freedom alone.” He quotes Rilke: “Words still go softly out towards the unsayable / And music, always new, from palpitating stones / builds in useless space its G-dly home.” The history of the Jewish spirit is written in its songs…

Rabbi Elchanan Shoff (Contemporary): We are taught that when one is being formed in the womb, an angel teaches him the entirety of Torah. When he is born, an angel hits him on the mouth, and he forgets that Torah… In fact, we are left to wonder why we even are taught the Torah in the womb in the first place. Would this not seem to simply be an example of learning for no purpose at all? The Jewish people left Egypt like a child leaving the womb. It was a time that the Jewish people were being born. The experience at the sea was not one that the Jewish people had earned. They had not spent the time working on themselves, and were not at the level of prophets. In fact, had they remained in Egypt one more moment, they would have sunk to depths from which they could not have been revived. This was the desperate need for urgency on the part of Hashem. And yet, the maidservant at the sea saw what even the great prophets never merited to see!

It was just like the time that an infant spends in the womb of his mother. The Jewish people were brought to great levels of understanding, which they did not earn or deserve. We will always look back to the exodus to know what it means to be a Jew, and we will mention it every day, and in so many of our blessings and prayers. The song that we sang at the sea was the song of the fetus. It is the song of pure potential. Nothing has been earned, and nothing is separating us from who we really are. That purity, what we are made up of, is something that must always be on our minds. We are not learning Torah and fulfilling its commands in order to change who we are, but rather to discover that information. It is fundamental that we remember that our job in this world is simply to peel off the garbage that is separating us from ourselves. You are a Torah. As your body was being formed of the physical cells, your soul was being formed as a piece of truth and nothing more. If you become lost, it is a Torah that became lost. And if you can peel through the layers that are hampering you, you will discover that you really knew all that Torah all along.

Questions for Discussion

Rav Kook claims that the Jewish people possession a unique spiritual predisposition. How do you think he would explain the concept of geirus (conversion)?
What is the role of song and music in Jewish religious life?
What is an area of your life where you possess innate potential that hasn’t yet been realized? What can you do to change that, even just a little?
Are there any dangers to the idea that Jewish people possess a unique spiritual predisposition?
What is the proper balance between nature, nurture and training/chinuch in Jewish life?

Spiritual Wealth – Parshat Bo

Rav Kook (Ein Ayah, Gemara Berachot 9b)

“Speak, please (lit. נא) in the ears of the people, and they should borrow, every man from his fellow and every woman from her fellow, silver and gold vessels.” (Exodus 11:2).

Gemara Berachot 9b: G-d used an expression of supplication. He said to Moshe “Go and tell Israel, I beseech you, borrow vessels of silver and vessels of gold from the Egyptians in order to fulfill the promise I made to Abraham in theברית בין הבתרים so that that righteous person (i.e. Avraham) will not say that God fulfilled “And they will be enslaved and afflicted,” but not “And afterward they will leave with great wealth” (Genesis 15:13–14).

The nature of a slave is to be accustomed to being ignored and abused. Slaves have no ambition and no desire for greater things. When G-d set our ancestors free, He summoned them to a higher level of existence as partners to a Divine covenant. Instead of building pyramids under the hot sun, they were build edifices of spiritual splendor. But this process of rehabilitation was not an easy or a natural one. The Israelites needed something to coax them into spiritual ambition and ignite their passion for religious development.

This was the deeper spiritual purpose of the wealth that G-d bestowed on the Israelites in the Exodus. Their newfound gold and silver was intended to stir them out of their brokenness and complacency, and awaken an awareness that they could long for more. However, there was a danger that the people would come to value Egypt’s wealth for its own sake, instead of using it as an engine to power their spiritual advancement. For this reason, G-d did not command the people to request gold or silver from the Egyptians, but so to speak “requested” it of them. This was G-d’s way of signaling that these treasures do not have intrinsic value.

Perhaps the spiritual purpose of G-d’s promise of wealth also explains why this promise was made to Avraham. More than the other Avot, Avraham yearned to spread knowledge of G-d throughout the world. He sought to establish a nation that would illuminate the pagan darkness just like he did as an individual, but on a greater scale. But Israel cannot influence other nations without a robust involvement in the world of wealth and commerce. Through vigorous and thriving economic activity, Jews come into contact with other nations, who are influenced by their ethical conduct and the unique spiritual life that they model. A nation of shepherds and paupers cannot be a light unto the nations.

Thus, Avraham desired not only that the Jews emerge from the purifying furnace of enslavement, ready to accept the yoke of Torah and mitzvot, but also that their spirits be rehabilitated and elevated through a desire for wealth and a healthy yearning for economic activity.

All Natural? – Parshat Va’eira

Printable PDF available here. Prior years’ pieces on Vayeira are available here and here.

**Rav Kook (Based on Shemonah Kevatzim, 7:75)**

I will harden Pharaoh’s heart, and I will increase My signs and My wonders in the land of Egypt. (Shemot 7:3)

Miracles spur us to re-evaluate our understanding of the natural order. They make us realize that the laws of nature can be suspended by their Divine legislator, and are not as firm or immutable as they seem. We recalibrate and realize that nature seems weak and flimsy, pliant to the world of Divine miracles that soars above it.

However, it is not for mere theology that the Torah presents nature as subordinate to G-dly miracles. The ultimate end of this knowledge is an ethical one – to become aware that the flawed, cruel and indecent aspects of our own inner nature are similarly not immutable. They can also become pliant and subservient to the Divine command, provided that we allow the G-dly light that sustains everything into our souls, in all of its splendor. We do not have to be stuck with habits, traits or behaviors that coarsen us or clog up our spiritual potential. We can change.

However, just as all great lights cast a shadow, this notion can be distorted and taken to an unhealthy extreme. One must exercise vigilance so that his conception of the natural order’s weakness does not extend to the positive and healthy aspects of his nature. Those must be fortified and encouraged, and allowed to unfold in a natural, healthy and holy way.

Food for Thought

Rabbi Yeruchom Levovitz (Da’as Torah, Shemot p. 75): The truth is that the main purpose for the whole Exodus from Egypt is belief in the concept of miracles. The main idea is to know and recognize that at the heart of existence is a spiritual core. One should know that existence is not just that which we see with our physical eyes, or sense with our physical senses. The physicality that we see in Creation is only clothing for the true existence. What is the true core to existence [which the Egyptian experience demonstrates]? It is spirituality, which is the source of all Creation.

Rabbi Akiva Tatz (Living Inspired, p. 152): The Sfas Emes expresses the connection between the miracles commemorated at the Seder and the rest of Jewish history in the most beautiful manner. He asks why we call the procedure of Seder Night a “seder” – the word “seder” means “order,” a regular, predictable series of events. Strange that we celebrate the most potent series of miracles, the sharpest departures from the natural order, with the name seder, “order”! His answer is unforgettable. For the Jewish people, our natural order is the miraculous! We have a seder of miracles. We were forged in impossible circumstances, conceived in a blaze of miracles, born beyond time. We can never descend into the natural; for us to do so would be souring of the worst kind, transforming matzah to chametz; lethal in the extreme.

Rabbi Meir Twerski (TorahWeb.org – Miracles and Wonders): The mishna in Pesachim teaches that the format for sippur yetzias Mitzrayim is maschil b’genus u’mesayeim b’shvach – one begins by recounting our disgrace and concluding with our glory (116a, translation adapted from Artscroll). Shmuel opines that genus refers to the fact that avadim hayinu, we were slaves. (This stands in contradistinction to Rav’s opinion that genus refers to our ancestors having been idolatrous. We incorporate both opinions in the hagadah.) The gemara does not explicitly state what the contrasting, corresponding shvach is. Primo facie, it is obvious. The contrasting, corresponding shvach is that we are now free. And, in fact, the Maharal miPrag (Gevuros Hashem) explicates Shmuel’s view in this way. Rambam, however, interprets very differently. He writes (Hilchos Chametz U’Matzah 7:4) that the counterpoint to avadim hayinu are the “miracles and wonders that were performed for us [in Mitzrayim] and in our freedom.” Rambam’s interpretation is puzzling. The formulation maschil b’genus u’mesayeim b’shvach suggests sharp contrast, thesis and antithesis. How are miracles the antithesis of slavery?

The answer lies in understanding the spiritual deficit and handicap of slavery. “Ki Li Bnai Yisroel avodim – v’lo avadim la’avodim – Bnai Yisroel are My slaves, and not slaves to slaves [says Hashem].” The dependence, vulnerability and accountability which a slave feels vis-a-vis his human master obstruct his relationship with Hakadosh Baruch Hu. Being the beneficiary of nissim and niflaos (miracles and wonders) not only reflects a direct relationship with Hakadosh Baruch Hu, but a privileged one. Thus from a spiritual perspective the nissim v’niflaos she’na’asu lanu are indeed the ultimate antithesis of avadim hayinu…

The Rambam’s quintessential definition of sippur yetzias Mitzrayim is absolutely remarkable. Sippur yetzias Mitzrayim, according to Rambam, is NOT about the exodus per se. In fact the Rambam does not even allude to, much less mention, freedom in his definition of mitzvas sippur yetzias Mitzrayim. Sippur yetzias Mitzrayim is the story of an enslaved, formerly idolatrous people who become so close to Hakadosh Baruch Hu that He bestows nissim v’niflaos upon them. The fact of liberation per se is only significant insofar as the freedom was a byproduct of nissim v’niflaos and enabled our new, privileged relationship with Hakadosh Baruch Hu. Sippur yetzias Mitzrayim is the story of spiritual transformation. An enslaved (and thus, remote), formerly idolatrous people through nissim v’niflaos become Hashem’s chosen people (Rambam Hilchos Chametz U’Matzah 7:4) enjoying privileged treatment and relationship.

Ramban (end of Parshat Bo, as summarized by Rav Ezra Bick): In his comments on the commandment of tefillin (Shemot 13:16), the Ramban offers a general theory of “signs” in Judaism, and, inter alia, a summary of the purpose of signs and mitzvotin general. In fact, this is a summary of the purpose of human life and of creation. The two subjects – the meaning of “signs” and the purpose of creation – are closely intertwined in the Ramban, as we shall see.

The Ramban lists a number of theological mistakes common in the world: those who do not believe in the existence of G-d, those who do not believe in His omniscience, and those who do not accept His omnipotence or His providence. The answer to these heresies, claims the Ramban, is the occurrence of miracles. The miracle, an exception to the “way of the world and its nature,” disproves publicly those false beliefs, for it proves that the world has a “creator-G-d, knowing, supervising, and capable.” The Ramban makes the sweeping statement that the occurrence of a miracle, together with its being predicted in advance by a prophet (demonstrating the truth of prophecy), serves to “establish the entirety of the Torah.”

However, there is a problem. G-d will not perform miracles in every generation. The Ramban does not explicitly explain why not, but the expression he uses – “G-d will not perform a sign and wonder in every generation in the eyes of every evildoer and heretic” – implies that it is somehow improper, an affront to the dignity of G-d for His power to be displayed for the unworthy. (In his derasha “Torat Hashem Temima” [p.150], he writes, “The great public miracles which can confound the weak in faith are not performed for every generation, for the generations are not worthy of that, or because there is no need for it to be performed.”) In any event, the outcome is that miracles are a necessary part of the world, in order to demonstrate G-d’s power and presence, but also a necessarily absent aspect of the world, in light of the unworthiness of humanity.

The solution to the absence of miracles, according to the Ramban, is the “sign.” We are commanded to make signs, remembrances, of that which “we” saw with our eyes, so that our children and all future generations, “to the end of time,” should have the experience of the miracle – specifically, the miracles that accompanied the exodus from Egypt.

Questions for Discussion

According to Rav Kook, the main lesson of miracles is ethical and not theological. Do you agree? Does the text of the Torah in the Exodus narrative offer any clues one way or the other?
Why doesn’t G-d perform open miracles and suspend the laws of nature for us like He did for the generation of the Exodus?
How does a person know whether certain habits, traits or behaviors belong to the positive/healthy or negative/unhealthy aspect of his or her nature?
See the Sefas Emes, quoted by R. Akiva Tatz in “Food for Thought” above. Is there any way to harmonize his position with Rav Kook? Or are they completely at odds?
What defines something as a miracle?

Bricks and Mortar – Parshat Shemot

Printable PDF available here. Previous pieces on Parshat Shemot are available here and here.

Due to time constraints, the “Food for Thought” and “Questions for Further Discussion” had to be omitted.

**Rav Kook (Midbar Shur, 16)**

And they embittered their lives with hard labor, with clay and with bricks and with all kinds of labor in the fields, all their work that they worked with them with back breaking labor. (Shemot 1:14)

Careful study is required to discern the purpose of our exile in Egypt and its impure culture. Prior to our descent to Egypt, our monotheistic beliefs and ethical conduct distinguished us from the pagan world around us. Afterwards, our Sages teach that we seemed indistinguishable from our idolatrous Egyptian oppressors, that the ministering angels could not comprehend why G-d chose to redeem us while He drowned our oppressors in the Yam Suf. Clearly, being in exile served some greater purpose, but why did it have to unfold in a way that was so damaging to Israel’s spiritual stature?

Perhaps our national descent to Egypt should be understood in the same light as the soul’s descent into the challenges and travails of this world. In heaven, our souls bask in G-dly light and partake of a clear perception of Divine truth. There are no challenges to overcome. But this static state of being is not the purpose of Creation. G-d sends our souls down into thisworld, where we are tempted by desire, greed, laziness, and numerous other seductions that are absent in the heavenly realms. Life in this world is not about basking in G-dly light, but about confronting and overpowering the unrefined and sinister aspects of our own being, so that our G-dly soul can express its true nature.

In the same way, G-d submerged Israel into the darkness and vile filth of Egyptian paganism precisely so they could struggle to overcome it and rise above it. Only through such inauspicious beginnings could the foundation be laid for a religious framework of struggle, vigorous effort and surmounting challenges to observe the laws of the Torah. Indeed, the prophet Hoshea declares that “When Israel was young, I loved him, and from Egypt I called My child” (Hoshea 11:1). Apparently, G-d regarded our spiritual failures in the Egyptian exile as the growing pains of a child in the early stages of development.

It seems that this interpretation is also prefigured in a puzzling statement of the Zohar. The Zohar analyzes the pasuk we began with about the suffering inflicted on Israel by the Egyptians. It states that hard work, עבודה קשה, refers to קושיא, the Talmudic term for analytical questions; mortar, חומר, refers to קל וחומר, one of the logical structures of Talmudic argumentation; and bricks, לבנים, refers to לבון הלכתא, the process of clarifying halachic matters. This must be more than a cute play on words, but what does it mean? Apparently, the Zohar is teaching us that the Egyptian exile paved the way for a model of Torah Study that requires vigorous effort to reach the truth. And while the Zohar is focused on the mitzvah of Torah study – with its questions, rejoinders, and rigorous analysis that is the hallmark of Talmud study – the same thing is true of all aspects of our avodat Hashem. The dark background of temptation, challenge and failure only creates a canvas upon which our successes can be etched. This is the way that G-d has created us and our world, so that spiritual greatness can be earned and not just dispensed on a silver platter, and so that our reward can thus be that much greater.

The Sacred Flame – Parshat Vayakhel/Pekudei

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Readers, I hope you are staying healthy – and also sane. Just when I thought I was going to get back on track, a pandemic comes and throws everything off! In light of Coronavirus-related constraints and in the spirit of Parshat Vayakhel/Pekudei, which is largely a repeat of Terumah/Tetzaveh, we are repeating this piece from last year’s Mareh Kohen.

Printable PDF available here.

Translation (Ein Ayah, Shabbat 20a):

In Shemot 35:3, the Torah states “Do not kindle fire in any of your dwelling places on Shabbat.” The implication is that kindling is only prohibited in one’s personal dwelling. But in the Temple, it is permittedto burn offerings on Shabbat. (Gem. Shabbat 20a)

The verse and this teaching of our Sages present two difficulties;

We know that the prohibition of creative labor (lit. melacha) on Shabbat encompasses 39 different categories of activity. Why is lighting fire is the only category explicitly mentioned in the Torah?
Outside of the Temple, the sanctity of Shabbat demands a total cessation of Why is there a lower standard within the Temple? Wouldn’t we have expected the opposite? And why is there a special dispensation for lighting fire, as opposed to other melachot?

A deeper understanding of fire can resolve both of these questions. Fire epitomizes human creativity and control over nature. Granted, human initiative is involved with all melachot,but fire is unique. Other melachot– such as plowing, building, and dyeing – involve no more than tweaking and reshaping existing physical forms. In contrast, the process of combustion brings forth heat and light, and is truly a dynamic and transformative process.[1]

Now, the restrictions against working on Shabbat are meant to reinforce the notion that God is Creator of the world. Thus, one might have concluded – and not unreasonably – that only the pristine and natural world (lit. teva), uncorrupted by human endeavor, is God’s handiwork. Perhaps human creativity and technology are at best spiritually irrelevant, and at worst aberrations that are foreign to the true purpose of God’s creation. If this were the case, it should be permitted to kindle fire on Shabbat, inasmuch as kindling represents human innovation applied to transform the natural order, as opposed to working within it.

To disabuse us of this misconception, the Torah expressly singles out lighting fire as a prohibited melacha.[2]We thus learn that human creativity is a fundamental part of God’s creation and His design of the universe. After all, the intellectual capacities used by man to transform the natural world were granted by God Himself![3]It follows that our ingenuity in reshaping the natural world contributes to the goal of creation, in accordance with God’s supernal wisdom.

A person must therefore be conscious of his tremendous power to change and improve the physical world. However, this power will only bring blessing to the world if it is utilized under the auspices of righteousness and Godly integrity. The Temple is the ultimate location from which such enlightenment can be drawn. The Temple was the focal point of Divine revelation and the source of spiritual guidance for both the individual and the collective. It follows that extending the prohibition against kindling to the Temple would be self-defeating and would short-circuit the spiritual value of human creativity. It would give man the notion that he should adopt a passive stance toward the world, and cast the burden of improving his welfare on God alone.

Thus, the dispensation for kindling fire in the Temple helps us internalize the holiness of our God-given power to develop the physical world. The Divine morality that flows outward from the Temple teaches us to use our ingenuity in a spirit of righteousness, to reshape the world and the society we construct within it with a new heart and a holy spirit.

Commentary

Rav Kook gives forceful expression to the spiritual value of human innovation and technological advancement. These capacities are part of God’s creation, and their unfolding contributes to the Divine plan for humanity. Rav Kook resoundingly rejects the position that all efforts to improve human welfare are futile, either because our fate is completely in the hands of God, or because creativity is only valued in the realm of Torah learning/the beit midrash.[4]

As far as I am aware, Rav Soloveitchik is the only other major rabbinic figure who grants spiritual dignity to man’s efforts to transform the physical world. The Rav argues that human creativity is a channel by which man expresses his Divine image (lit. tzelem elokim), inasmuch as God is the Creator par excellence. As he writes, “The spiritual message behind the story of Creation is that man too must be creative. Man must conquer disease, control rivers, and alleviate misery… A moral principle follows from this article of faith [that God created the world ex-nihilo]: the Creation narrative challenges man to create.”[5]

I think that Rav Kook can offer us another valuable insight about fire, specifically the havdalah fire that we kindle right after Shabbat concludes. Our Sages taught[6]that Adam was cast out of Gan Eden after Shabbat and became terrified by the onset of darkness. God taught him the skill of kindling fire by striking together two flint-stones, and enabled him to banish the gloom. This tradition takes on new meaning in light of Rav Kook’s teaching. As we prepare to re-enter the work week, we acknowledge the spiritual potential and dignity of melacha by blessing God as the creator of flame.

Contrast this tradition of our Sages with the Greek myth of Prometheus.[7]To quote Rabbi Jonathan Sacks,[8]“to the Greeks, the gods were essentially hostile to mankind. Zeus wanted to keep the art of making fire secret, but Prometheus stole a spark and taught men how to make it. Once the theft was discovered, Zeus punished him by having him chained to a rock… [and tortured for eternity]. Against this background can we see the revolutionary character of Jewish faith. We believe that G-d wants human beings to exercise power: responsibly, creatively, and within limits set by the integrity of nature. The rabbinic account of how G-d taught Adam and Eve the secret of making fire is the precise opposite of the story of Prometheus. G-d seeks to confer dignity on the beings He made in His image as an act of love. He does not hide the secrets of the universe from us. He does not seek to keep mankind in a state of ignorance or dependence. The creative G-d empowers us to be creative and begins by teaching us how. He wants us to be guardians of the world He has entrusted to our care.”

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

Rav Kook does not get into details on how exactly human innovation and technology furthers God’s purposes. What do you think he has in mind?
Is there any particular technology that you think illustrates the spiritual dignity of man’s creative abilities? (Note – technology is any application of human ingenuity to address a problem. It’s not limited to something you purchase at Best Buy.)
Do you think the Orthodox community or educational system does a good job of encouraging creativity? If not, how could we improve?
Would Rav Kook agree that some technologies that are intrinsically detrimental to human welfare, or would he claim that everything has spiritual potential?
Some would argue that technology has become a form of idolatry. One author, in a recent book[9]about the dangers of social media, claims that we live in a ‘technopoly,’ which he defines as “the deification of technology, which means that the culture seeks its authorization in technology, finds its satisfactions in technology, and takes its orders from technology.” This ideological domination demands a sacrifice of all previously stable belief systems. So trust in institutions, ancient or modern, erodes. Any order, system, or tradition is deemed suspicious or ripe for “disruption” simply because of its date of origin, as if durability were a sign of weakness instead of strength. Local identities and traditions are rendered valueless except as raw material for remixes, parody, tourism, tapestries, and games rather than expressions of deep human narratives and connections. Learning becomes a matter of searching, copying, and pasting rather than immersing, considering, and deliberating. Meditation becomes a hobby, a holiday for those privileged enough to purchase the time, rather than a practice that connects one with a spirit or purpose…. Everyone is quantified. Everyone is exposed. Everyone is on guard. Everyone is exhausted.” What are your thoughts on whether the society we live in has a healthy relationship with technology? Whether you have a healthy relationship with technology?

[1]Consider also that fire (i) is a source of illumination that allows mankind to transcend the limitations imposed by the darkness of night and (ii) was the fundamental technology that enabled primitive mankind to forge metal and develop tools.

[2]In other words, it is taken from granted that the other 38 melachot are prohibited. The Torah comes to tell us that even kindling is a prohibited melachaas well.

[3]In the Hebrew, Rav Kook alludes to the words of Isaiah (26:12) – כי גם כל מעשינו פעלת לנו.

[4]This was not merely a matter of theory in Rav Kook’s generation (or in ours, for that matter). Many European Jews abandoned Torah observance because they perceived an unhealthy willingness and a total disinterest of observant Jews in making any efforts to shape their own destiny.

[5] Reflections of the Rav, cited in the Mesoras haRav Chumash (Bereishit 1:2). An excellent English article about the Rav’s teachings on creativity is available here.

[6]Gemara Pesachim 54a.

[7]Many other cultures also have a myth that involves the theft of fire from the heavens by a terrestrial hero.

[8]http://rabbisacks.org/light-make-shemini-5777

[9]Antisocial Media, pg. 19.