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“And the work was sufficient for them for all the work, to do it and even to leave over.” (Shemot 36:7) That’s not from this week’s parshah, but it sums up my experience at work during the last several weeks. That explains why (i) I wasn’t able to post last week for Parshat Terumah and (ii) am not providing an original rendition of Rav Kook for this week’s parshah. In lieu, below is an excerpt from Rabbi Chanan Morrison’s Sapphire From the Land of Israel, an adaptation of Rav Kook’s teachings on the parsha. I hope to resume posting in earnest next week.

A printable PDF of the piece below is available here. Last year’s piece on Parshat Tetzaveh is available here, and is also in print in this week’s New Jersey Jewish Link.

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Rav Kook (Ein Ayah, Gemara Shabbat, 20a):

And you shall command the children of Israel, and they shall take to you pure olive oil, crushed for lighting, to kindle the lamps continually. (Shemot 27:20)

Not just any oil was suitable for use in the Temple Menorah. The Torah stipulates that the oil be particularly refined, made from hand-crushed olives, so that it will “raise up a constant flame.” Why does the Torah use this unusual phrase, “to raise up the flame”? Why not say simply “to kindle the flame”?

In the gemara, our Sages explained this phrase to means that the lights of the Menorah must burn easily and naturally, necessitating that only the finest oil and wicks be used. The oil must be pure, produced from types of oil that are easily absorbed, and the wicks must be made from a material that burns smoothly. With such high quality oil and wicks, the flame will “raise itself up” and will not need to be fiddled with.

For Sabbath lights, the Sages similarly required that the oil come from a substance that is absorbed easily, and the wicks be made from a material that burns smoothly. ‘Those wicks and oils that the Sages disqualified from use on the Sabbath may also not be used in the Temple’ (Shabbat 21a).

As with all aspects of the halacha, there is a deeper significance to this rule. The goal of the Sabbath is to perfect the individual, and the requirement for easily lit wicks and oil contains an important lesson about the path to spiritual growth.

If the body is overwhelmingly drawn toward physical pleasures, the intellect will not succeed in guiding it. One may become skilled in some craft, or gain proficiency in certain areas of wisdom, but wisdom will not reside in the heart. The overriding attraction to material pursuits will interfere with the illumination of the intellect. Our body is like a wick. It must be refined so that it does not resist the light, but rather works together with the soul. Only then it will be illuminated easily and evenly. This is the essence of the Sabbath: a day set aside for harmonious living, so that we may naturally grow in holiness and true service of God.

The oil is a metaphor for the human intellect. The mind also needs guidance; not every intellectual pursuit leads to ethical and spiritual growth. Cases abound of brilliant individuals who led amoral, even corrupt lives. Just as the oil of the Menorah must be of a type that is readily absorbed by the wick, so too, we should immerse ourselves in a wisdom which provides practical guidance toward proper living. Such is the wisdom of Israel — the Torah.

Now, the Sabbath day promotes the spiritual growth of the individual. But what about the spiritual growth of the nation? What if the nation seeks to amass wealth and power, regardless of any injustices perpetrated along the way? Unfortunately, this is a common phenomenon: the individual aspires to justice and goodness, while his country ruthlessly pursues its objectives.

The heritage of the Jewish people, however, is different. Our national aspirations are at one with our individual aspirations. Both are rooted in God’s law from Sinai. Both the individual and the nation pursue the same goals of justice and kindness. This is the significance of the association made between the Sabbath lights and the Temple Menorah, connecting the aspirations of the individual and the nation. Both Sabbath and Temple lights require oil and wicks that burn smoothly and easily. The Torah of the nation, like that of the individual, must guide its actions effectively, and not be limited to abstract philosophical inquiry.

The Sages further explained that flame needs to be constant, a light that “raises itself up.” What does this mean? Our impetus for seeking justice and good should be based on intrinsic, natural motives. This is accomplished by purifying the body through the sanctity of practical mitzvot, and the mind through the light of Torah study. Then we do not require artificial assistance to avoid evil. Our enlightened conscience will naturally lead us to the proper path.

Food for Thought (from Chabad.com, based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe)

Few sights are as warming to the soul as the sight of a burning flame. Though a physical phenomenon, the flame — luminous, pure, ethereal — is everything the physical is not; hence its appeal to man, a spiritual being ensnared in a material world.

But the flame is more than a symbol of spirituality. The flame is our own mirror, in which are reflected the strivings of our deepest self. In the words of the author of Proverbs, “The soul of man is a lamp of G‑d.” The flame is our own mirror, in which are reflected the strivings of our deepest self.

The flame surges upwards, as if to tear free from the wick and lose itself in the great expanses of energy that gird the heavens. But even as it strains heavenward, the flame is already pulling back, tightening its grip on the wick and drinking thirstily of the oil in the lamp—oil that sustains its continued existence as an individual flame. And it is this tension of conflicting energies, this vacillation from being to dissolution and back again, that produces light.

We, too, yearn for transcendence, yearn to tear free of the entanglements of material life and achieve a self-nullifying reunion with our Creator and Source. At the same time, however, we are also driven by a will to be — a will to live a physical life and make our mark upon a physical world. In the lamp of G‑d that is man, these polar drives converge in a flame that illuminates its surroundings with a G‑dly light.

A lamp consists of oil, a wick, and a vessel containing them so that the oil is fed through the wick to a burning flame. Oil and wick are both combustible substances, but neither could produce light on its own with the efficiency and stability of the lamp. The wick, if ignited, would flare briefly and die, utterly consumed. As for the oil, one would find it extremely difficult to ignite at all. But when wick and oil are brought together in the lamp, they produce a controlled and steady light.

The soul of man is a lamp of G‑d whose purpose in life is to illuminate the world with divine light. G‑d provided us with the “fuel” that generates His light the Torah and its commandments (mitzvot), which embody His wisdom and will and convey His luminous truth.

The divine oil requires a “wick” to channel its substance and convert it into an illuminating flame. The Torah is the divine wisdom; but for divine wisdom to be manifest in our world, there must be physical minds that study it and comprehend it, physical mouths that debate it and teach it, and physical media that publish it and disseminate it. The mitzvot are the divine will; but for the divine will to be manifest in our world, there must be a physical body that actualizes it and physical materials (animal hide for tefillin, wool for tzitzit, money for charity) with which it is actualized.

And just as the divine oil cannot produce light without a material wick, neither can a wick without oil. A life without Torah and mitzvot, however aflame with the desire to come close to G‑d, is incapable of sustaining its flame. It might generate flashes of ecstatic spiritual experience, but lacking oil of genuine divine substance, these quickly die out and fail to introduce any enduring light into the world.

To realize its role as a “lamp of G‑d,” a human life must be a lamp that combines a physical existence (the “wick”) with the divine ideas and deeds of Torah (the “oil”). When the wick is saturated with oil and feeds its spiritual yearnings with a steady supply of the same, the resultant flame is both luminous and sustainable, preserving the existence and productivity of the wick and illuminating the corner of the world in which has been placed.

The flame itself is a multi-colored affair, alluding to the many levels on which man relates to the Creator through his observance of the mitzvot. Generally speaking, there is the lower and darker area of the flame which adjoins the wick, and its upper and brighter part.

The darker segment of the flame represents those aspects of a person’s service of G‑d which are colored by their association with the physicality of the “wick”–that is, mitzvot which are motivated by self-interest. The higher and purer part of the flame represents a person’s moments of self-transcendence, deeds which a person does—as Maimonides writes–“not for any reason in the world: not out of fear of evil or out of a desire to obtain the good; rather, he does the truth because it is true.”

Both these aspects of a person’s life are reflected in his relationship with G‑d. The mitzvot come not only to bind his altruistic “G‑dly soul” to the Almighty, but also to involve his ego-dominated “animal soul” in the fulfillment of the divine will. This is achieved when a person understands that he should “love the Lord your G‑d… for He is your life” (Devarim 30:20). By recognizing that G‑d is the source and sustainer of his very being, the very same ego which earlier craved the most material of pleasures is now drawn to attach itself to the Almighty, out of the realization that there is no greater fulfillment of self pos

The “wick” is both prison and liberator for the flame, both tether and lifeline. It holds the soul in its distinctiveness from the divine whole, in its apartness from its Creator. And yet, it is this distinctiveness and apartness, this incarnation in a physical life, which allows us to connect to G‑d in the deepest and most meaningful way—by fulfilling His will.

So when divine command, physical body and human life come together as oil, wick and lamp, the result is a flame: a relationship with G‑d that is characterized by two conflicting drives, by a yearning to come close coupled with a commitment to draw back. The materiality of life evokes in the soul a desire to tear free of it and fuse with the Divine. But the closer the soul is drawn to G‑d, all the more does it recognize that it can fulfill His will only as a distinct and physical being. So while the corporeality of the wick triggers the flames upward surge, the divine will implicit in the oil sustains its commitment to existence and life.

 

Printable PDF available here.

Translation (Ein Ayah,Shabbat 21a):

Certain materials, such as wool, may not be used as wicks for Shabbat lights because they don’t hold a steady flame. Ordinarily, these wicks may also not be used in the Temple. However, at the Simchat Beit HaShoeivah on Sukkot, the worn-out pants and belts of the Kohanim [which were made from wool] were used to make wicks for the Temple lamps. (Shabbat 21a)

All human faculties are associated with either the soul or the physical body. These two dimensions of the human personality operate in fundamentally different ways. The soul’s different means of expression – character traits, imagination, emotion, a sense of inspiration, etc. – all involve the conscious self. Our ability to reflect and stand outside of ourselves enables the Torah to address these ‘spiritual’ aspects of life directly. In this regard, our feelings, thoughts and ambitions are wicks that can readily hold a Divine flame. [1]

In contrast, bodily faculties (like sexual urges and the need for food) involve no conscious process of cognition, and operate without any deliberation or volition. Unlike the ‘higher’ expressions of the soul, the bare experience of physical desires is neither moral nor immoral, but simply devoid of moral content altogether. [2] And because these faculties operate on the level of instinct, they cannot be conscripted outright to higher, spiritual goals. Bodily desires are like wicks that do not hold a steady flame. After all, they must be coaxed through initiative taken by man’s higher self. This requires reflection, Torah study and refining one’s character traits.

One could argue that this process is a waste of time, and that God desires that we embrace an ascetic approach to life. Perhaps the body really is the prison of the soul, and physical desires are something to be eliminated or tolerated as a necessary evil. But God forbid that the Torah would ever endorse such an approach! The Jewish path does not demand that we afflict or weaken any natural human capacity, nor diminish its stature or splendor. God made physical desires a part of human nature, and tasked the body, not just the soul, with bearing Divine light. [3] To tamper with these desires and stamp them out is an affront to Him and His wisdom. It is a sickness, not a path to spiritual completeness.

This is the deeper meaning of the Sages’ teaching that the pants and belts of the Kohanim were repurposed for wicks at the Simchat Beit HaShoeivah. Unlike the other priestly vestments, these garments [4] were associated with the lower parts of the body, those associated with the digestive [5] and sexual organs. Our Sages are teaching that these faculties can also be consecrated to bear the Divine flame, provided that they are kept within holy boundaries [6] and guided by the Torah and its sanctity.

Because the physical world is full of temptations, this mode of Divine service is a demanding one. There is a constant danger that man’s desires will burst through their proper boundaries, and this peril will remain until the Messianic era. Only then, when the world will be totally permeated with Godliness, will bodily desires be able to serve as the day-to-day substrate of our Divine service. For this reason, the pants and belts of the Kohanim were only used as wicks a few days out of the year, at the Simchat Beit HaShoeivah – and even then, only under the watchful gaze of the holy Kohanim. In our pre-Messianic reality, the balance of our Divine service must be through wicks that hold a steady flame – the refinement of the intellect and the emotional dimension of man’s personality, fueled by the ‘oil’ of Torah. And although the body cannot yet play an autonomous role in man’s striving toward the Divine, even in the pre-Messianic era it too can be illuminated with sacred light, and summoned to participate in pure and joyful living.

Commentary

Rav Kook is quite strident in asserting the legitimacy of the physical in religious life. Not all Torah thinkers adopted such a favorable perspective. Torah literature is full of sources that idealize asceticism and are deeply uncomfortable with man’s physical drives. In their view, man was created with desires not in order to channel them and keep them within holy boundaries, but to earn otherworldly reward by suppressing and transcending them. Rav Kook’s teachings on asceticism are complex, but he generally regarded asceticism as a spiritually unhealthy infirmity and a casualty of galut. For him, our return to the Land of Israel was meant to be more than just a redemption of the spirit. It was also to be a return to a vigorous and healthy engagement with worldly living and concerns, all conducted in the spirit of holiness.

Other than Rav Kook, Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch is one of the few Torah thinkers who believed that the travails of galut had caused a corrupt and unhealthy perspective on life to creep into Torah Judaism. Rav Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, the Sridei Eish, wrote as follows in describing Rav Hirsch’s legacy. It is also an excellent summary of Rav Kook’s views:

The Israelite religion… wishes to influence the whole man, to prepare his whole heart, his thoughts and deeds, for his exalted tasks…. So it was in ancient Israel, and in the time of the Tannaim and Amoraim and Geonim, and partially so in the Golden Age experienced by the Jewish people in Spain. Judaism was never a source of suffering for Israel. Judaism for Israel was life in its fullness. No one dreamed of a possible separation between religion and life, as though they were separate or opposing forces… But the Jewish people underwent a mighty change during the time of the terrible Crusades. The terrible persecutions, the banishment from the different areas of life, the deprivation of breathing space and limitation of movement, also damaged the religious strength of the Jew seriously and weakened it.

Together with the impoverishment of our life, the scope of our religion became increasingly narrower. Broad, important areas of life were cruelly wrested from our people and its religion. The Hebrew soul was torn to shreds. That joy which results from the total correspondence of spirit and life, ceased in Israel… The concept ‘secular life,’ which is foreign to the spirit of Israel, came into being during those dark times. The religious sense no longer drew sustenance directly from life… and was sustained only by the fear of death, and terror of the severe penalties of the World-to-Come. It is true, of course, that belief in divine reward and punishment is a basic Jewish principle… but extensive use of it, placing it at the center of religious feeling, turning it into the solitary propelling force for fulfilling mitzvot – can plunge a man into depression and induce spiritual malaise… This ‘separation from life’ resulted in the adoption of a negative stance towards life’s achievements. The spirit of Israel wore black, donning a cloak of asceticism foreign to the spirit of Judaism.

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

1. Rav Kook explains that the pants and belts of the Kohanim could not be used as wicks on a regular basis. But of all times, why pick Simchat Beit HaShoeivahto use them?
2. Tablet Magazine recently had an online symposium on the financial costs of a Modern Orthodox lifestyle. Rivka Press Schwartz, a teacher at SAR High School, wrote that “To a meaningful extent, what is going on in our community is that we are taking the demands of a certain class lifestyle and recasting them as religious obligations, which both ennobles our consumption and allows us to take pride in the sacrifices we make for it.” What would Rav Kook say about this analysis?
3. What are some of the major challenges that make it difficult or dangerous (psychologically, spiritually or otherwise) to sanctify one’s physical desires? What are the countervailing difficulties and dangers that faced by the ascetic approach?
4. One major issue in machshava literature is why the Torah does not make explicit mention of the rewards and punishments of Olam ha’Ba. Based on Rav Kook’s insights about the role of the physical body in Divine service, can you suggest an answer? [7]
5. Does Rav Kook’s approach resonate with you? Why or why not?

[1] There is an abundance of Torah literature, primarily in Chasidic sources, that uses the candle as a metaphor for the human personality. See here and here for representative examples. The verse from Mishlei (20:27) נר ה׳ נשמת אדם is often invoked.

[2]Rav Kook is not saying that there is no moral dimension to how/whether one acts on his desires, an antinomian view that outright contradicts the very idea of Torah and the halachic system. As Jews, we do not accept the degenerate premise of modern Western culture that every desire is a mandate and anyone who insists otherwise is a bigot. According to Rav Hirsch (Commentary on the Torah, Bereishit 3:1), this was exactly the claim that the serpent made to Eve when he said אף כי אמר אלהים לא תאכלו מכל עץ הגן– “Even though Hashem has commanded you not to eat from the Tree of Knowledge, you do indeed desire it, and He created you with that desire. Therefore it must be good.” And we all know how well that worked out…

[3]See Seforno (Bereishit 3:25), who he explains why Adam and Eve were not ashamed of their nakedness before they sinned.

[4]See Ramban (Shemot 29:9), who notes that the ‘lesser’ status of the Kohanim’s pants is reflected in peshuto shel mikra, inasmuch as the pants are mentioned separately from the other priestly garments [and also last], at the end of Chapter 29.

[5]The Kohanim tied their belts at elbow-level, not on their waist.See Gemara Zevachim 19a.

[6]Rav Kook notes, based on the mishnah in Sukkah (5:2), that care was taken at the Simchat Beit HaShoeivah to ensure separation between men and women. According to some poskim, this is the source for the requirement of mechitzahin shul.

[7]Consider the words of the Vilna Gaon in his commentary to Shir haShirim (1:3) – ובזה מתורץ ג”כ מה שהקשו כל הקדמונים מה שלא נאמר בתורה שכר עוה”ב. כי עיקר עוה”ב הוא להשיב הנשמה למקורה לדבק בשכינה, ובודאי יותר טוב מזה כשהשכינה דבקה למטה כאשר היתה כוונת הבריאה כידוע. ושכר זה כתוב בתורה עד אין מספר ושכנתי בתוכם ולא תגעל נפשי וכו’…. This position is striking on its own terms, and all the more so when you consider that the Vilna Gaon spent much of his life cloistered in an attic and immersed in Torah, sleeping only a few hours a day (for 30 minutes at a time) and barely eating!