Our Great Engraver – Parshat V’Zot haBeracha

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

What is the purpose of minhagim in Torah life? Why do we keep them?
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?
What are some aspects of Torah life that only developed after the Torah was given?
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?
What is unique about Simchat Torah compared to other holidays? Is Simchat Torah part of the “sealing” of Torah or the “engraving” of Torah?
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?

The Harmony of Israel – Parshat Ha’azinu

Printable PDF available here. Previous pieces on Ha’azinu are available here and here.

We are approaching the end of the third year of Mareh Kohen. If you are interested in having Mareh Kohen continue (or have any suggestions/feedback), please leave a comment to this post.

**Rav Kook (Based on B’sadeh haRe’iah, Pg. 194)**

And now, write for yourselves this song, and teach it to the Children of Israel. Place it into their mouths, in order that this song will be for Me as a witness for the children of Israel. (Devarim 31:19)

And Moses came and spoke all the words of this song into the ears of the people, he and Hoshea the son of Nun. (Devarim 32:44)

On a simple level, the “song” referred to here is the parshah of Ha’azinu. However, a deeper interpretation offered by our tradition is that the entire Torah is referred to a song. This is the basis of the mitzvah that every Jew must write their own sefer Torah. It is unclear, however, why G-d has to speak in code and refer to the Torah as a “song,” as we don’t find this usage anywhere else. There must be some deeper meaning intended, but what is it?

It seems that the answer is latent in the broader context in which Ha’azinu appears. Immediately before, in Parshat Nitzavim, the Jews entered into a new covenant with G-d at the Plains of Moav. At that time, Moshe declared:

You are all standing this day before the Lord, your G-d the leaders of your tribes, your elders and your officers, every man of Israel, your young children, your women, and your convert who is within your camp both your woodcutters and your water drawers, that you may enter the covenant of the Lord, your G-d, and His oath, which the Lord, your G-d, is making with you this day…

Although Israel was already bound by the covenant at Sinai, our Sages teach that this covenant added a new dimension of obligation. At Sinai, the people had pledged fealty to G-d as individuals. Each person assumed responsibility for their own individual spiritual successes and failures – but nothing more. However, according to the Talmud (Sotah 37b), at the Plains of Moav the people accepted responsibility for each other’s fulfillment or non-fulfillment of the Divine covenant. The Talmud refers to this is arvut, literally “guarantorship.” Just as a lender can collect from the guarantor when the borrower fails to pay, each Jew is a guarantor for his or her fellow’s loyalty to the Divine covenant. A laissez-faire policy of “live and let live” is not a Jewish concept.

Our Sages also teach (Sanhedrin 43b) that the additional covenant of arvut did not come into force until the Jews entered Eretz Yisrael. For it is only in Eretz Yisrael that Torah life is a totalizing affair undertaken by the collective (lit. הכלל), instead of the pursuit of a conglomeration of like-minded individuals.

Thus, as Moshe prepares to teach Parshat Ha’azinu to the people, the higher collective dimension of Torah stands ready to emerge, beckoning from just beyond the Jordan River. For this reason, it is only now that the Torah can be referred to as a “song.” As the Maharal taught, true song emerges from a state of wholeness and completeness (lit. שלימות). The Torah can only rise to this level in the Land of Israel, but nowhere else. Thus, it was only in anticipation of Israel’s imminent entry into the Land that Torah became a song. Only in Israel can the song of the Torah be written on our hearts.

Food for Thought

Rabbi Josh Flug (Arvut: The Responsibility to Ensure that Other Jews Observe Mitzvot): The Magen Avraham seems to be of the opinion that the obligation of arvut is more important than fulfilling one’s own mitzvah in a preferred manner. He rules (671:1) that if one has the exact amount of oil to fulfill mehadrin on Chanukah and one’s neighbor doesn’t have any oil, one should give some oil to the neighbor and both will fulfill the basic mitzvah. R. Chaim Sofer (1822-1886, Machaneh Chaim 3:19) explains that Magen Avraham’s ruling is based on the concept of arvut. Magen Avraham (658:12) also rules that if one owns an etrog in a place where the community has one available for everyone to use and there is another community that doesn’t have any etrogim, he should send his private etrog to the other community and fulfill his obligation with his community’s etrog. R. Shammai Gross (Shevet HaKehati, Orach Chaim 5:108) explains that Magen Avraham’s ruling is based on the idea that the etrog owner’s obligation of arvut demands that he forgo the preferred method of fulfilling the mitzvah in order that other people should be able to fulfill the basic requirement.

Rambam (Hilchot Tefillin, Mezuzah and Sefer Torah 8:1): It is a positive commandment for each and every Jewish man to write a Torah scroll for himself, as it says (Devarim 31:19): “And now, write down this song for yourselves,” i.e., write down the [entire] Torah which contains this song. One may not write only a few parshiot of Torah [and therefore the command to write Ha’azinu translates is in effectively a command to write the entire Torah].

Rabbi Zushe Greenberg: In the ‘60s, a rabbi from Connecticut had a personal audience with the [Lubavitcher] rebbe. This rabbi had been very instrumental in establishing the local Jewish day school and was well respected in his community. He asked the rebbe if he should make aliyah to Israel. The rebbe responded, “If you made up your mind to go, you have my blessing. But if you ask my opinion, I think you should stay in Connecticut.” The rebbe concluded, “There are plenty of rabbis in Israel. Connecticut needs you!” The rebbe inspired generations of young couples to leave their hometowns and go off into the world to share their Jewish experience with others. In my own family, many of my siblings moved to far-flung corners of the world just to be part of the building of a new Jewish community.

Rabbi Ezra Bick: We have all been brought up in an extremely individualistic ethos, which pervades the western world today. Man is responsible for himself. Of course, most of us – and most western societies – accept that I should help my fellow man. This is called altruism, and serves to moderate extreme individualism to some extent. But altruism is very different from the ethos that lies behind arvut; in fact, it is almost the opposite. Arvut declares that I am responsible for others just as I am responsible for myself. It is not goodheartedness to help others, it is collective self-interest. The failure of my neighbor is not merely a lost opportunity for me to have practiced philanthropy, it is simply my own failure.

For the forty years in the desert each Jewish individual had a relationship with G-d based on the fact that he too had received the Torah. At this point, before entering the Land of Israel (i.e., before entering on the road of national destiny), G-d molds these disparate individuals into a nation, a collective, a community. … The covenant is not between the individual and G-d, but between the metaphysical entity called Israel and G-d. The nation as a whole and as a unity is given the Torah this time; hence the conclusion of arvut – if the nation as a whole and as a unity does not keep the Torah, the covenant has not been fulfilled…

In the beginning of this week’s shiur, I began with the application of “arvut” to a ritual matter, in order to demonstrate that the concept should be taken seriously and not merely as a sort of metaphor for a general obligation to look out for others. But of course, the concept has immediate applications in many other areas as well. My attitude towards other Jews is one of obligation – mutual obligation and responsibility. If another Jew is in trouble, I will go to help him, not merely because I think that helping others is an ethical imperative, and I am a generous and helpful soul, but because we both belong to a greater unit which binds us and defines my own identity. Were I not to help him, I would not only sin against him, but I would be untrue to myself, to my identity as a Jew. I do not mean to belittle generosity, not at all. Giving to others, “chesed,” is itself a powerful and essential trait, one defined halakhically as basic to the image of G-d in which all of us are created… The concept of arvut is a parallel one, based not on love and giving, but on responsibility. Think of it as family – above and beyond, and totally separately from the obligations of giving and feelings of love, one takes care of one’s children because one is responsible for them, because one belongs to a unit – the family – that is part of one’s individual personality and identity. I think that if we knew a mother who took care of her children, in a perfectly wonderful manner, only out of the pity and love that one has for one’s fellow man, or even out of the love that one naturally has for one’s offspring, there would be something missing. The practical difference perhaps is what happens when one is tired or grouchy, or if the child is unworthy or unwilling, but I think the point is true even if there is no immediate practical difference at all. Arvut seeks to raise the responsibility of family to a higher level.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (Covenant and Conversation, Ha’azinu 5777): 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… 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…

Questions for Discussion

How is Jewish life in Eretz Yisrael different than in the Diaspora?
Read the story about the Lubavitcher Rebbe in “Food for Thought” above. How did arvut shape his relationship to Eretz Yisrael differently than Rav Kook’s?
What can you do to take responsibility for the spiritual or physical welfare of other Jews?
Rav Kook’s teaching is based on the Maharal, who writes that “True song emerges from a state of wholeness and completeness.” What do you think this means?
In what way is it true that “a state of wholeness and completeness” is only attainable in the Land of Israel? Conversely, are there things that the Jews can accomplish in the Diaspora that they can’t accomplish in the Land of Israel?
What are some other ways that the Torah can be considered a “song”?

Standing Before G-d, on One Leg – Parshat Nitzavim/Vayeilech

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

**Rav Kook (Based on Midbar Shur, Drush 9)**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Food for Thought

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Questions for Discussion

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

The World of Divine Ideals – Parshat Ki Tavo

Printable PDF available here. Previous pieces on Ki Tavo are available here and here.

**Rav Kook (Ikvei ha’Tzon)**

“G–d will confirm you for Himself as a holy people, as He swore to you, if you observe the mitzvot of the Lord your G-d, and you go in His ways (lit. והלכת בדכריו).” (Devarim 28:9)

To the extent that one’s inner conception of G-d matures, his service of G-d will advance as well. The understanding of Divine worship (lit. avodat elokim) as the servitude of a slave (lit. avodat eved) derives from a crude and immature conception of G-d. And thus, if a person’s ethical and intellectual faculties are well developed (in accordance with his nature and the state of his generation), but his conception of G-d is immature, the inevitable result will be a profound inner aversion to the entire notion of Divine service.

The only cure is to raise up one’s inner conception of the Divine Name – ideally by means of an ennobled and comprehensive understanding, but at the very least, in a manner that accords with his soul’s conceptions of greatness and elevation. This is alluded to by our Sages’ teaching (Gemara Berachot 21a) that derives the blessing before Torah study from the verse “When I call out the name of the Lord, attribute greatness to our G-d” (lit. כי שם ה׳ אקרא הבו גודל לאלוקינו) (Devarim 32:3).

It is a commonly believed that Divine service relates to G-d Himself, that it is a means for us to connect to His very essence. But this is a crude faith, even if it is articulated by means of sophisticated metaphysics and philosophy, and it turns man into a terrified slave who quivers in G-d’s presence. The notion that humanity can deal directly with G-d is foreign to Israel. It is a defining trait of non-Jewish belief and readily degrades into paganism.

In place of ‘religion,’ Israel’s mature Divine service is rooted not in superficial subjugation to some abstract, transcendent power, but G-dly ideals. The depth of Torah [that is, Kabbalah] teaches that even the names of G-d signify not G-d’s essence but rather Divine ideals. The ideals, which the Torah refers to as the “ways of G-d” (lit. דרכי ה׳), are mapped by Kabbalah as the world of Atzilut, the Divine attributes and sefirot. Kabbalah charts this vibrant multitude of paths and conduits, through which an infinite G-d channels His interactions with our finite world. We are summoned to exert ourselves to perfect and raise up these ideals, to raise them up and invest them with splendor on the individual, national and cosmic planes. This task broadens and elevates the soul. Indeed, the Torah teems with elevated ideals and contains Divine blueprints for manifesting them.

This constitutes Israel’s unique and enlightened form of Divine service, the service of sons and daughters who sense within themselves an inner affinity to their Divine father, the author and source of all goodness, life and light. Here there is neither dry theology nor the quivering worship of terrified slaves – themselves two sides of the same blighted coin. The Divine ideals fortify and enrich the soul, bring joy and healthy psychic repose, inner confidence, delight and love in their wake.

“Israel will rejoice with its Maker; the children of Zion will exult with their King” (Tehillim 149:2).

Commentary

Kabbalah has a long and complex history as part of Jewish tradition, and not all sources are of one mind regarding the purpose of Kabbalistic knowledge. Some sources present Kabbalah as a gateway to an ecstatic mystical experience, while others idealize meditative contemplation. Various other sources emphasize theurgic and magical dimensions of kabbalah, articulating man’s ability to affect heavenly worlds by his thoughts and actions. Rav Kook charts a revolutionary and entirely different path.[1]According to Rav Kook, Kabbalah charts a precise map of the traits manifested by G-d in His interactions with the world, which we are called upon to emulate. The sefirot, partzufim and other phenomena identified by Kabbalah and its unique vocabulary are really “Divine Ideals” that humanity (and particularly Israel) is meant to manifest. For Rav Kook, this is the deeper meaning of “following in Hashem’s ways.” Kabbalah is the deepest and most profound manifestation of the ethical.

[1] Rav Kook’s approach is explicated by Yosef Avivi in his recently-published and magisterial four-volume work titled קבלת הראי׳ה.

Food for Thought

Shemot (33 and 34): וְעַתָּה אִם נָא מָצָאתִי חֵן בְּעֵינֶיךָ, הוֹדִעֵנִי נָא אֶת דְּרָכֶךָ, וְאֵדָעֲךָ, לְמַעַן אֶמְצָא חֵן בְּעֵינֶיךָ; וּרְאֵה, כִּי עַמְּךָ הַגּוֹי הַזֶּה… וַיֹּאמַר: הַרְאֵנִי נָא, אֶת כְּבֹדֶךָ. וַיֹּאמֶר, אֲנִי אַעֲבִיר כָּל טוּבִי עַל פָּנֶיךָ, וְקָרָאתִי בְשֵׁם יקוק, לְפָנֶיךָ; וְחַנֹּתִי אֶת אֲשֶׁר אָחֹן, וְרִחַמְתִּי אֶת אֲשֶׁר אֲרַחֵם. וַיֹּאמֶר, לֹא תוּכַל לִרְאֹת אֶת פָּנָי: כִּי לֹא יִרְאַנִי הָאָדָם, וָחָי… וַיֵּרֶד יקוק בֶּעָנָן, וַיִּתְיַצֵּב עִמּוֹ שָׁם; וַיִּקְרָא בְשֵׁם, יקוק. וַיַּעֲבֹר יקוק עַל פָּנָיו, וַיִּקְרָא, יקוק יקוק, אֵל רַחוּם וְחַנּוּן אֶרֶךְ אַפַּיִם, וְרַב חֶסֶד וֶאֱמֶת. נֹצֵר חֶסֶד לָאֲלָפִים, נֹשֵׂא עָו‍ֹן וָפֶשַׁע וְחַטָּאָה; וְנַקֵּה, לֹא יְנַקֶּה פֹּקֵד עֲו‍ֹן אָבוֹת עַל בָּנִים וְעַל בְּנֵי בָנִים, עַל שִׁלֵּשִׁים וְעַל רִבֵּעִים. וַיְמַהֵר, מֹשֶׁה; וַיִּקֹּד אַרְצָה, וַיִּשְׁתָּחוּ.

Gemara Rosh haShanah (17b): “And The Lord passed before him and proclaimed” (Exodus 34:6). Rabbi Yochanan said: Were a verse not written, it would be impossible to say it. This teaches that the Holy One, Blessed is He, wrapped Himself like a prayer leader and demonstrated to Moses the order of prayer. He said to him: Any time that Israel sins, let them perform before me this procedure and I shall forgive them.”… Rav Yehudah said: a covenant has been made regarding the Thirteen Attributes that they never return empty, as it is stated, Behold I make a covenant (Exodus 34:10)….

Reishit Hokhmah (Sha’ar Anavah 1): And the matter is difficult because we have seen many times in which we have proclaimed the 13 attributes and [our prayers] are not answered. Rather the Geonim say that the meaning of “let them perform before Me this procedure” is not merely the wrapping of a talit. Rather that they should perform the attributes which the Holy One Blessed be He taught to Moshe: that He is a merciful and compassionate G-d. That is, just as He is compassionate so too you should be compassionate, etc. And likewise for all 13 attributes.

Is There a Jewish Philosophy? (Leon Roth): [I]t is not possible to extrapolate any positive theory of ethics from the notion of imitatio Dei, and second, judging from the import of the biblical texts themselves, no one has ever attempted so to do. And the reason is obvious. The G-d of Israel is a G-d who “hides Himself” (Isaiah 45:15) whose name, according to the Talmud’s perceptive interpretation u of Exodus 3:15 is le’olam: not ‘forever’, but ‘must be hidden’ (le’alem). What is hidden from us we can neither imitate nor emulate…. It is, moreover, quite certain that this was already appreciated in antiquity, for many a scholar has endeavoured to discover, from talmudic literature, the consequences of emulation, or, to use the conventional term, imitation, of G-d. But, as one of them has observed, the rabbis did not call upon people to imitate all the divine characteristics as they are described in the Hebrew Bible: and, from the philosophical point of view, this is the heart of the matter. We find no such summons as ‘just as I am “jealous and vengeful” [cf. Nahum 1:2] so be you likewise jealous and vengeful.’ Here is proof that the essence of the whole concept, even when propounded according to the foregoing formula, is not simply imitation. There is a selectivity of the appropriate characteristics for emulation; and once this is granted, imitation, as such, is not the touchstone.

Gemara Sotah (14a): What is the meaning of that which is written: “After the Lord your G-d shall you walk…” (Deuteronomy 13:5)? But is it actually possible for a person to follow the Divine Presence? But hasn’t it already been stated: “For the Lord your G-d is a devouring fire, a jealous G-d” (Deuteronomy 4:24)? Rather, the meaning is that one should follow the attributes of the Holy One, Blessed be He. Just as He clothes the naked, as it is written: “And the Lord G-d made for Adam and for his wife garments of skin, and clothed them” (Genesis 3:21), so too, should you clothe the naked. Just as He clothes the naked, as it is written: “And the Lord G-d made for Adam and for his wife garments of skin, and clothed them” (Genesis 3:21), so too, should you clothe the naked. Just as the Holy One, Blessed be He, visits the sick, as it is written with regard to G-d’s appearing to Abraham following his circumcision: “And the Lord appeared unto him by the terebinths of Mamre” (Genesis 18:1), so too, should you visit the sick. Just as the Holy One, Blessed be He, consoles mourners, as it is written: “And it came to pass after the death of Abraham, that G-d blessed Isaac his son” (Genesis 25:11), so too, should you console mourners. Just as the Holy One, Blessed be He, buried the dead, as it is written: “And he was buried in the valley in the land of Moab” (Deuteronomy 34:6), so too, should you bury the dead.

Moreh Nevuchim (1:54): When [Moshe] asked for knowledge of the attributes and asked for forgiveness for the nation, he was given a [favorable] answer with regard to their being forgiven. Then he asked for the apprehension of His essence, may He be exalted. This is what he means when he says “Show me, I pray Thee, Thy glory;” whereupon he received a [favorable] answer with regard to what he had asked for at first – namely, “Show me Thy ways.” …It is then clear that the “ways” – for a knowledge of which he had asked and which, in consequence, were made known to him – are the actions proceeding from G-d, may He be exalted. The Sages call them “characteristics” and speak of the “thirteen characteristics.” This term, as they use it, is applied to moral qualities…For the utmost virtue of man is to become like unto Him, may He be exalted, as far as he is able; which means that we should make our actions like unto His, as the Sages made clear when interpreting the verse “You shall be holy.” They said: “He is gracious, so be you also gracious; He is merciful, so be you also merciful.”

Rav Eliyahu Dessler (Michtav M’eliyahu, Vol. V, p. 21): When a person contracts his ego, he walks in the ways of G-d. [How so?] it is known [according to kabbalah] that G-d contracted Himself, as it were, for the sake of creating the world, for the ultimate purpose of revealing Himself here. So too, a person contracts his ego for the sake of revealing G-d’s honor and greatness. This is the [deeper] meaning of the verse: “And cleave to him” (Devarim 13:5) which Rashi explains as: “Cleave to His ways, perform acts of kindness [bury the dead, visit the sick, just as G-d did].”

Questions for Discussion

See the first few sources in “Food for Thought” above. How does the practice of reciting Selichot connect to Rav Kook’s insights on “following G-d’s ways”?
Rav Kook writes that “The notion that humanity can deal directly with G-d… readily degrades into paganism.” Why?
How do we learn/discover what traits of G-d we are supposed to emulate? (See Is There a Jewish Philosophy? in “Food for Thought” above.)
According to Rav Kook, is Kabbalah meant to lead to a withdrawal from the world or to a deeper engagement with it?
What kind of behaviors does the Talmud put under the rubric of “walking after G-d?”
Rav Kook believes that Kabbalah is the key to the deepest fulfillment of “following G-d’s ways.” What are other ways in which this mitzvah could be understood?

Halacha and Aggadah, Poetry and Prose – Parshat Shoftim

Printable PDF available here. Previous years’ pieces on Parshat Shoftim can be found here and here.

**Rav Kook (Based on Igrot ha’Reiah 103)**

If a matter eludes you in judgment… then you shall rise and go up to the place the Lord, your G-d, chooses. And you shall come to the Levitic kohanim and to the judge who will be in those days, and you shall inquire, and they will tell you the words of judgment. And you shall do according to the word they tell you, from the place the Lord will choose, and you shall observe to do according to all they instruct you. (Devarim 17:8-10)

I believe that it is incumbent on us to create an opening in the partition that separates the disciplines of halacha and Aggadah. Each discipline can benefit from and draw upon the unique wisdom of its counterpart. Aggadah speaks to the wisdom of the heart and the mind, and all of the Torah’s laws regarding beliefs and thought draw upon the domain of Aggadah. By contrast, halacha is the wisdom of practical conduct.

Each of these domains is nourished from a different ‘root’ in the holy Torah. The world of halacha draws on human wisdom and cognition, while Aggadah is rooted in the world of prophecy. Maimonides (Hilchot Yesodei haTorah, Chapter 9) erected an iron wall between these two disciplines, insisting that prophetic insight has absolutely no role to play in the halachic process. However, it is apparent that other Rishonim disagreed and saw nothing wrong with granting some level of halachic credence to prophecy. Indeed, this is the simple meaning of the first mishnah in Pirkei Avot, which records the early chain of transmission of the Oral Torah. That mishnah teaches that the “elders” passed the tradition on to the Prophets (lit. וזקנים לנביאים). It seems implausible to assert – as Maimonides presumably would – that their prophetic powers had no role in their custodianship of the tradition, that they received the tradition in their capacity as Sages and not in their capacity as prophets. Other Talmudic proofs can similarly be marshalled to demonstrate the role of prophecy in halacha.

Because the Land of Israel is the only place where prophecy exists, the prophetic dimension of halacha finds unique expression in the Land. Ordinary halachic discourse is deductive and methodical. Arriving at a conclusion involves a lengthy series of proofs, counterproofs and analogies, as anyone familiar with the Babylonian Talmud can testify. In contrast, prophecy arrives at truth rapidly and by means of an inner intuition. Instead of plodding forward on a dark path with a candle in one’s hands, flashes of lightning illuminate one’s entire surroundings. The structured and logical process of pure halachic reasoning is bypassed and one is led by a higher form of consciousness.

This is why the Talmud Yerushalmi is terse and concise, in contrast to the exhaustive and sprawling style of the Talmud Bavli. Unlike their counterparts in Babylonia, the inner intuition of the Talmudic sages in Eretz Israel enabled them to clarify matters with directness and brevity. Illuminated by a supernal light, their broad gaze could intuit halachic conclusions from the most subtle of hints or allusions. “The very air of the Land of Israel makes one wise” (Gemara Bava Basra, 158b).

The different spiritual paths of the Talmud Bavli and Talmud Yerushalmi may illustrate a dispute regarding the zaken mamre, the rebellious elder who brazenly disregards the ruling of the Sanhedrin. The Torah writes that the disputed ruling relates to a ‘matter’ (lit. דבר). While the Talmud Bavli interprets this as a reference to Halacha, the Talmud Yerushalmi understands it as a reference to Aggadah.

Apparently, the Sages of Israel maintained that even aggadic matters – issues of belief and faith – were subject to definitive adjudication by the nation’s highest court, while the Sages of Babylonia disagreed. The basis of this dispute is readily apparent. In the Land of Israel, the style of Torah study was permeated with prophecy and transcendent spiritual wisdom. And so even aggadic matters could be clarified with decisive finality. The Sages of Babylonia did not believe that this was possible. For them, human reason was the primary means of determining halachic truth. Granted, the human intellect is powerful enough to be Divinely entrusted with binding authority in matters of halacha. But it will always fall short of absolute certainty in the matters of belief and faith that compromise the world of Aggadah.

Food for Thought

Chovot haLevavot (Introduction): Scripture says “if there arise a matter too hard for you in judgment, between blood and blood, between plea and plea, between affliction and affliction…and you shall do according to the sentence which they declare to you” (Deut. 17:8-10). If you examine what subjects are included in the first verse, you will find they are things which need to be detailed, distinguished, and discussed by the method of Tradition, and not by that of logical demonstration from Reason alone. You can see, the verse does not include matters which can be attained through Reason. For he did not say, for example, “when you have a question on the Unity of G-d”; or regarding the Names and attributes of the Creator, or as to any of the roots of the religion, such as the service of G-d, trusting in Him, submission before Him, devoting activities to Him, purifying conduct from the damage of detrimental things, repentance from sins, fear and love of Him, being abashed before Him, making a spiritual accounting, and similar duties which can be fulfilled through reason and recognition. He did not say to accept them on the authority of the Torah Sages and to rely only on the Tradition. On the contrary, Scripture says in regard to these to reflect on them to your heart and to apply your intellect on them after having first accepted them from the Tradition, which covers all the commandments of the Torah, their roots and branches. You should investigate them with your intellect, understanding, and judgment, until you will sift the truth of it from the false [notions], as written “therefore, know this day and consider it within your heart, that the Lord, He is G-d” (Deut. 4:39).

More Regarding the Talmud Yerushalmi (from Simcha Friedman, Emunat Hakhamim, Tradition 27:4): Rashi (on the above passage in the Babylonian Talmud) states: davar refers to the halakhot given to Moses at Sinai.” The commentators to the Jerusalem Talmud – the authors of Korban ha-Edah and Penei Moshe (in his Mar’eh ha-Panim) – follow suit. The latter echoes Rashi in explaining the term aggadah used in the Jerusalem Talmud in its non-literal meaning: “It may be that “aggadah”… is that which was told (mah shehugad) orally, hearkening back to the halakhah given to Moses at Sinai.”

Rabbi Chaim Eisnen (Maharal’s Be’er ha-Golah and His Revolution in Aggadic Scholarship): In the halakhic domain of talmudic literature, a staggering wealth of systematic analyses and codifications emerged during the medieval period of the rishonim (early rabbinical commentators). These classics remain the foundation of all serious talmudic erudition. Astoundingly, there was little simultaneous, parallel development in the realm of Aggadah. With some notable exceptions, this vast corpus eluded comprehensive treatment until the early period of the aḥaronim (later rabbinical commentators)…

Ramban (as quoted and discussed by Rabbi Marc Angel): The demand that one must believe all the words of our sages in the aggadah came into question in the famous disputation in Barcelona in 1263. Rabbi Mosheh ben Nahman, the Ramban, was challenged by his Christian opponent with an aggadah that stated that the Messiah was born on the day that the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed. The Ramban responded: “I do not believe in this aggadah at all…” He went on to explain that Jewish religious writings are divided into three traditional categories: Bible, Talmud and Midrash. “The first we believe entirely…; the second we believe when it explains laws. We have yet a third book which is called Midrash, sermons so to speak…; and this book, if one wishes to believe it he may, and one who does not believe it does not have to… We call it a book of aggadah, which is to say discourses, that is to say that it merely consists of stories which people tell one another. “

This explanation of the Ramban was rejected by those who insisted on maintaining the truth of all the words of our sages. Some argued that the Ramban never meant what he said, that he only said it to deflect the challenge of his opponent. The Sedei Hemed wrote that it is forbidden even to think that the Ramban meant what he said. Writing over two centuries after the disputation, Rabbi Yitzhak Abravanel strongly disavowed the statement of the Ramban because “it opens the gates to undermine all rabbinic authority when we consider any of their words as errors or foolishness.

Questions for Discussion

Could there be an alternative explanation for why the Talmud Yerushalmi is much shorter and terser than the Talmud Bavli?
What are some differences between contemporary religious life/Torah learning in Israel vs. in the Diaspora?
Why is it important to learn aggadah?
What do you think Rav Kook means by creating “an opening in the partition that separates the disciplines of halacha and Aggadah”?
In the absence of a Sanhedrin, how do we determine what positions in matters of belief and faith are beyond the pale?

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Fear of Heaven – Parshat Eikev

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

**Rav Kook (Based on Musar Avicha, 1:3)**

“And now, O Israel, what does the Lord your G-d demand of you? Only this – to fear the Lord your G-d, to walk only in His paths, to love Him, and to serve the Lord your G-d with all your heart and soul.” (Devarim 10:12)

Torah literature contains two terms – fear of sin (lit. יראת חטא) and fear of heaven (lit. יראת שמים) – that are often used interchangeably. But do they actually mean the same thing, or are they meant to capture different aspects of religious life? And more importantly, what exactly is the content of this “fear” that our tradition holds up as a primary religious value?

To answer this question, we must realize that the acts of the holy and chosen nation of Israel resonate in the highest levels of reality. The deeper wisdom of the Torah teaches that our deeds have the power to build up the spiritual architecture of the universe or tear it down. The laws of the Torah are not simply pronouncements that we must obey by virtue of Divine fiat. Rather, they are part of the warp and woof of reality.

It follows that every time we act in accordance with the Torah and its G-dly truth, we bind ourselves to a Divine repository of life and goodness. When our will aligns with the Divine will, we experience a sense of completeness and discover ourselves fitting to bask in G-d’s supernal and all-encompassing light. This illumination is neither a ‘prize’ nor a reward dangled in front of us as a motivation to follow G-d’s laws. It is simply the result of living in in a state of completion and in harmony with the ultimate reality.

Conversely, violating the dictates of the Torah results in estrangement from this ultimate goodness. Instead of living in alignment with the highest Divine wisdom, one’s soul becomes permeated with a corrupted and discordant state of being. Deep down, all of reality strives to rise to its supernal source, but he is running in the opposite direction. His soul is damaged and pained, much like a car’s engine becomes devastated when the car is moving forward and the driver abruptly switches gears to ‘Reverse.’

In reality, a person actually experiences two different sensations as a result of defying G-d’s will. He feels the damage he has done to his soul. But just as acutely, he feels the pain of knowing that he is unfit to partake of G-d’s light and splendor.

This is the meaning of the two terms whose meaning we set out to analyze – fear of sin (lit. יראת חטא) and fear of heaven (lit. יראת שמים). Fear of sin is the fear of harming one’s soul, of rendering it deficient and incomplete. Fear of heaven refers to the trepidation regarding the pain and shame of distancing oneself from the Divine light.

Donations Not Welcome – Parshat Pinchas

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

Rav Kook (Mishpat Kohen 124)

From Rosh Chodesh Nisan until the eighth of the month, the correct law regarding of the daily offering was established. Therefore it was decreed not to eulogize these dates. For the Sadducees maintained that an individual may donate and bring the daily offering. They based this on the verse “The one lamb shall you offer [lit. ta’aseh, in the singular] in the morning…” (Bamidbar 28:4).

To refute the argument of the Sadducees [and prove the accepted tradition that communal offerings must be brought from communal funds] the Sages invoked the verse “Command the children of Israel, and say to them: My food that is presented to Me for offerings made by fire, of a pleasing aroma unto Me, you shall observe [lit. tishmeru, in the plural] to offer to Me in its proper time” (Bamidbar 28:2).

The Talmud records a dispute between the Sadducees and our Sages regarding the daily tamid offering in the Temple. The former maintained that the tamid may be donated by an individual, or purchased with funds donated by an individual. The Sages strongly disagreed and insisted that the tamid must be purchased by the Temple treasury using communal funds. We know of many halachic disputes between the Sages and the Sadducees (among other sectarian groups), but our tradition seems to impute particular significance to this one. Why else would the Sages have established a week-long period of quasi-celebration to commemorate prevailing in this argument? But what exactly is the significance of this machloket? As long as the tamid is offered, why does it matter who pays the bill? It must be that this seemingly technical dispute is really rooted in something much more fundamental.

The Sadducees denied that any sort of special sanctity inheres in the people of Israel as a collective. For them, Israel is merely an amalgamation of independent individuals. From this perspective, the nation of Israel has no independent standing and exists only to serve the interests of its individual members. The Sadducees regarded the community and its endeavors (such as the tamidoffering) as little more than a business partnership, into which one invests in order to receive a ‘return’ on their investment. This is why they maintained that the tamid can be donated by an individual. It seemed nonsensical to them to insist on having the Temple treasury pay for the tamid. After all, they maintained, isn’t the Temple treasury just a large pool of funds donated by different individuals?

But our Sages, from whose waters we drink, knew that this was false. Perhaps for other peoples, there is no metaphysical standing to the concept of nationhood, but Israel is different. The nation of Israel is an eternal entity with its own standing, its own spiritual potentialities, and its own relationship with G-d, one that transcends and exceeds the sum of its individual parts.[1] Collective Israel is a meta-historic entity with its own intrinsic powers, spiritual charisma and covenant with G-d. Thus, our Sages maintained that the tamid offering – like all matters of communal sanctity – must be done in the name of the community itself. No matter how magnificent it is, no individual ‘partner’ can present his or her contribution to G-d in the community’s name.

And for the same reason that the Sadducees could not conceive of the tamid offering as a communal obligation, they also rejected Torah sheba’al peh. Unlike the written Torah, which is fixed in the static reality of parchment and ink, the Oral Torah is written on the hearts and minds of the Jewish people. Transcending generations, it expresses the unique spiritual persona of collective Israel and its distinctive capacity for holiness. Thus, it should not surprise us when our Sages (Gemara Avoda Zara 35a) make the bold claim that rabbinic laws are more beloved by G-d than the Torah itself.[2] For no matter how brightly any individual Jew shines, he is merely a spark in the great flame of Israel’s collective holiness, a holiness that transcends time, history and the constraints of physical reality.

[1] Rav Kook cites a gemara in Bava Metzia (118a) that even if an individual donates materials for communal offerings to the Temple treasury, we do not use them, because “perhaps he will not give it over to the community wholeheartedly.” As Rav Kook explains, we are not concerned about the donor being stingy or having second thoughts. We are concerned that he won’t understand the depth of what it means to give something over to the possession of the metaphysical community of Israel.

[2] In support, Rav Kook references a gemara in Avoda Zara that rabbinic laws are not valid unless they are accepted by the nation as a whole.

Food for Thought

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Collected Writings, Vol. II, pg. 302): The community exists solely for the sake of its individual members, to provide a channel for concerted effort through which every individual can aspire to human perfection in the purest, fullest measure. The flowering of individual life is the sole basis and criterion for the life of the community. Only the individual can endow his community with a firm foundation and true meaning.

Talmud (Temurah 15a): “Tzibbur aino meis” – the community of Klal Yisroel never dies. If an individual designates a korban and then dies, under certain circumstances the korban can no longer be brought. If the tzibbur designates a korban and all of them die, their descendants are still considered the original tzibbur.

Rav Hirsch (Commentary on the Torah, Shemot 3:17): [I]n each single one of them, the whole nation is represented, each single one of them has the courage and the mission to stand alone against the whole world, and to represent and carry on the nation by himself. In the mouths of the Prophets, other nations habitually are described by the picture of an animal, Israel is pictured preferably as a tree. An animal can be killed with a single pressure of the trigger-finger, or a single stab of the dagger. But a tree reproduces with every part, the possibility of the continuance of life of the whole. Even if the root is severed, a branch, a twig, a bud, a germ, is often sufficient to reinstate the destroyed plant, and to save its continued existence)… Our People does not let itself be destroyed. In each single individual is reproduced the spirit, the courage, the decision of the whole.

Rav Soloveitchik (The Community, Tradition 1978): The very instant we pronounce the word “community” we recall, by sheer association, the ancient controversy between collectivism and individualism. Willy nily the old problem of who and what comes first (metaphysically, not chronologically) arises. Is the individual an independent free entity, who gives up basic aspects of his sovereignty in order to live within a communal framework; or is the reverse true: the individual is born into the. community which, in turn, invests him with certain rights? This perennial controversy is still unresolved. Today the controversy transcends the limits of theoretical debate. People try to resolve it, not by propounding theories or by participating in philosophical symposia in the halls of academia, but by resorting to violence and bloodshed…. The political confrontation between the West and the East [i.e. capitalism and communism] is, ipso facto, a philosophical encounter between one-sided collectivism and one-sided individualism.

Let us ask a simple question: what does Judaism say about this conflict? And let us give a simple answer: Judaism rejects both alternatives: neither theory, per se, is true. Both experiences, that of aloneness, as well as that of togetherness, are inseparable basic elements of the I-awareness. In fact, the greatness of man manifests itself in his inner contradiction, in his dialectical nature, in his being single and unrelated to anyone, as well as in his being thou-related and belonging to a community structure…

The community in Judaism is not a functional-utiltarian, but an ontological one. The community is not just an assembly of people who work together for their mutual benefit, but a metaphysical entity, an individuality; I might say, a living whole. In particular, Judaism has stressed the wholeness and the unity of Knesset Israel, the Jewish community. The latter is not a conglomerate. It is an autonomous entity, endowed with a life of its own. We, for instance, lay claim to Eretz Israel. G-d granted the land to us as a gift. To whom did He pledge the land? Neither to an individual, nor to a partnership consisting of millons of people. He gave it to the Knesset Israel, to the community as an independent unity, as a distinct juridic metaphysical person. He did not promise the land to me, to you, to them; nor did He promise the land to all of us together. Abraham did not receive the land as an individual, but as the father of a future nation. The Owner of the Promised Land is the Knesset Israel, which is a community persona.

Rav Hirsch (Commentary on the Torah, Vayikra 1 pg. 217): A community does not die, the Nation knows no death, and the individual too, in as far as he dedicates the efficacy of his earthly life to the community, rescues the fruit of his life here below over and beyond death, already here below he partakes of immortality. Naturally such a point of view does not look on the idea of a Community as being a union of so and so many persons of so and so much material power. Then the community, the Nation and its efforts would lie, even as the individual does, under the power of death and transitoriness. It looks on the Nation as being the eternal bearer of the eternal moral spiritual Truths of Mankind, as representing the never-dying moral spiritual immortality of Mankind.

Questions for Discussion

What does it mean that the Jewish community is a “metaphysical entity”? And what is the scope of this concept? Does it apply only to the entire nation, or even to a local community or a shul?
In what sense is the Jewish sense of community different in Israel than outside of Israel?
Can someone be a good Jew if they are not a member of a community? Why or why not?
Rav Kook claims that unlike the written Torah, the Oral Law “expresses the unique spiritual persona of collective Israel.” What do you think this means?
See the excerpts from Rav Hirsch above in “Food for Thought.” Where does he agree with Rav Kook and where does he differ?

Climb, Rest, Repeat – Parshat Balak

Printable PDF available here. A previous piece on Parshat Balak is available here.

Rav Kook (Olat Re’iah)

How goodly are your tents (lit. אהליך), O Jacob, Your dwellings (lit. משכנותיך), O Israel! (Bamidbar 24:5)

The lifelong process of striving for spiritual completion consists essentially of two different movements, both of which serve as the foundation for all worthy things in life.

The first movement, which is the elevated crown of every attainment, is to be constantly striving for higher levels of spirituality. One must always be yearning for more wisdom and more holiness, to be illuminated by the pure light that comes from G-dly knowledge, from refining one’s emotions and thoughts. One must allow the noble foundation of his or her soul to intensify and be built up in an ever-increasing process of ascent. This process is stormy, dynamic, and does not allow for any rest.

But there must also be a different modality of spiritual work. You cannot be climbing upward at every moment. You must also hold fast to what you have accomplished, and fortify your spiritual gains against the dangers that threaten to wash them away. There is also a risk that one will leap upward toward levels that are not appropriate, or that unchecked and unhealthy spiritual ambition will breach the bounds of morality or Torah. Thus, this second modality is what consolidates the accomplishments of the first, what enables one’s spiritual attainments to last and endure. And unlike its counterpart, this is a process of rest and repose, of being rooted in one’s spiritual ‘place’ instead of seeking to transcend it.

These two forms of spiritual work are symbolized by two different types of structures. The ceaseless process of spiritual ascent is represented by the tent, which is an intrinsically temporary dwelling that is moved from place to place. The other, more poised mode of consolidating and holding fast to one’s spiritual gains is embodied by the Mishkan. Although the Mishkan was always ready to be relocated to another encampment in the desert, it only functioned when the people were no longer traveling, when they had ceased to move and were summoned to stand still. But as we have seen, the very act of ‘standing still’ is itself an important mode of Divine service.

All of this is encapsulated by Bilaam’s pithy declaration “How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, Your dwellings, O Israel!”

Perhaps this is why Jewish custom is to begin the morning prayer service with this very verse. As we prepare to pour out our souls in prayer to our Creator, we invoke the imagery of the “tent,” thus decisively rejecting spiritual complacency. We acknowledge our desire to rise, ascent after ascent, to the highest possible levels of holiness. And at the same time, this vision must be bound up with its counterpart. While taking care to climb higher and higher, we must take care not to slip and fall on our way up. There must be moments to rest, to integrate what one has attained and become, to stay in a “dwelling” and not only a “tent” on the steep cliff of the mountainside.

Only through the unification of these two modalities will we attain the ultimate goodness in all of its vigor and splendor.

Food for Thought

Gemara Sanhedrin (105b): From the blessing of that wicked person, Balaam, you can ascertain what was in his heart. G-d transformed the curses that he planned into blessings. He sought to say that they should not have synagogues and study halls, and he said instead: ”How goodly are your tents, Jacob” (Numbers 24:5), a blessing on their synagogues. He sought to say that the Divine Presence will not rest upon them, and he said instead: ”And your dwellings Israel.”

Seder Rav Amram Gaon (9th Century, Babylonia): One who enters a synagogue says: “How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, Thy dwellings, O Israel!” (Numbers 24:5). “But as for me, in the abundance of Thy lovingkindness will I come into Thy house; I will bow down toward Thy holy temple in the fear of Thee.” (Psalms 5:8)

Responsa of Maharshal, 64 (1500s, Poland): When I come to synagogue I begin with the verse “But as for me, in the abundance of Thy lovingkindness…” (Psalms 5:8) and skip the first verse “How goodly are thy tents” (Numbers 24:5) because Balaam said it [first] and he said it as a curse as we find in Sanhedrin 105b, and this is not its proper place.

Rabbi Elliot Kaplowitz (moderntoraleadership.com): If, indeed, Bilam was evil, why are his words among the first that we teach our children? Why are they included in the siddur? I suggest an answer to this question based on Yosef Albo’s explanation of prayer in his Sefer Ikarim. Albo wrestles with the philosophical difficulty of how petitional prayer can ever be effective if G-d is all-knowing? Hashem has already declared what the end result will be, and G-d’s will does not change. Logically, then, our prayers should have no impact on the outcome. R. Albo explains that G-d’s will does not change. However, the future outcome is determined for each individual as they are at that moment in time. The act of prayer has the power to transform the individual into a new person – about whom a different decree is possible. Because prayer is transformative, there is no more philosophical difficulty.

The structure and content of the siddur helps us to go through a transformation described by Albo. Throughout the siddur we utter the words of others – beginning with Bilam’s words of Mah Tovu, the words of Tehilim composed by David haMelech that comprise the majority of pesukei de-zimra, the words of Moshe and B’nei Yisrael during Shirat haYam, etc. In one sense, we begin tefilah as a rasha (wicked person) deserving of punishment. If we internalize this sentiment, then our prayers will be more sincere and more passionate. The discomfort of beginning with the word of Bilam further helps us to be open to the transformative power of our prayer.

Rabbeinu Bachya: According to the midrash (Talmud Baba Batra 60a) Bilam speaks of the tents in the desert, seeing that there the Israelites dwelled in tents. When he saw how the entrances of these tents were so arranged [modestly] that they did not face each other, Bilam was inspired to compliment the people on this.

Kedushat Levi: “How goodly are your tents, O Yaakov, ‎your dwellings O Israel.” This may best be understood in ‎light of the sages urging us to set aside definitive hours each day ‎for Torah study. (Avot 1:15). “Yaakov” is the name used for ‎Israel when it is at “low” ebb spiritually, whereas “Israel,” is the ‎name applied to the Jewish people when they are spiritually at ‎their best. When Torah study is only an occasional activity of the ‎Jewish people, they are on the level of “Yaakov.” [The ‎word: ‎אהל‎ always denotes a temporary abode, as opposed to ‎משכן‎ ‎which always describes permanent dwellings. When Torah study ‎comprises a major part of their waking hours, i.e. it is a fixture, ‎they are referred to as Israel.]‎

Questions for Discussion

Rav Kook uses his analysis to explain why we start the morning prayer service with the verse “How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, Your dwellings, O Israel.” What might be an additional (and simpler) explanation? (For a hint, see the gemara in Sanhedrin, cited in “Food for Thought” above.)
Is ambition in worldly matters a positive trait? Why or why not?
What happens if a person is too focused on rising upward spiritually, without taking time to rest and consolidate their gains?
Rav Kook writes that there is a danger that “unchecked and unhealthy spiritual ambition will breach the bounds of morality or Torah.” Is there anyone in Tanach or Jewish history who might serve as an example of this?
According to Rav Kook, the terms “tents” and “dwellings” refer to an internal spiritual process. See Rabeinu Bachya and Kedushat Levi in “Food for Thought” above – how do they understand these terms?
What happens if a person is too cautious about consolidating their spiritual gains, without being sufficiently ambitious or interested in spiritual growth?
It was only in the desert that the Jews had a traveling Mishkan. Once they entered into Eretz Yisrael, they were commanded to build a permanent Temple. What do you think this expresses, in light of Rav Kook’s insights?

The Common Destiny of the Righteous and Wicked – Parshat Chukat

Printable PDF available here. A previous piece on Parshat Chukat is available here.

Rav Kook (Based on Ein Ayah, Shabbat 55b)

The ministering angels said before the Holy One, Blessed be He, “Master of the Universe, why did You penalize Adam, the first man, with death?” He said to them, “I gave him a simple mitzva, and he violated it.” They said to Him, “Didn’t Moses and Aaron, who observed the whole Torah in its entirety, nevertheless die?” The Holy One, Blessed be He, responded to them with the verse (Kohelet 9:2) “All share a common destiny, the righteous and the wicked.”

It is a basic tenet of Jewish faith that every person is defined by his/her free will and moral stature. Our lives are the sum of the moral and spiritual choices that we make, choices for which we alone bear responsibility. Even so, a person is affected by the character of the collective soul of humanity (lit. נפש האנושית בכללה) in ways that transcend freedom of choice. We are all burdened by the spiritual descent engendered by the primordial sin of Adam and Chavah. None of us hear G-d’s presence or encounter Him with the clarity and intensity that they did in the Garden of Eden.

But humanity’s spiritual development will eventually be restored to its height of completeness. Such is the aspiration of G-d’s beneficent will for humanity. But humanity’s elevation is not a simple matter, and it will not be attained by marginal improvements or enhancements. A categorical, qualitative transformation is required.

Death is part of the Divine plan for facilitating this transformation. For death is more than just a punishment or a mere ‘expiration date’ on the lifespans that G-d grants us in this world. It is part of a Divinely decreed process, the passage through which will eventually lead humanity back to Eden and the highest levels of perfection.

It follows that even elite individuals – those who climb to the highest peaks of spiritual accomplishment by their virtuous choices – cannot escape death. Even though such people have perfected every aspect of their individual spiritual persona, a portion of their soul is still bound up with, and draws upon, the collective oversoul of all humanity. In a post-Edenic reality, that portion of their being cannot be propelled to perfection, no matter how hard or vigorously they exert themselves.

Thus, it is not entirely true that death and sin are inextricably linked. Death is not always dependent upon one’s actions. Even Moshe and Aharon had to die – and not because of anything they did wrong by striking the rock at Mei Merivah. As G-d declared to the ministering angels, “All share a common destiny, the righteous and the wicked.” This is not cruel or arbitrary. It is simply a reflection of the reality that humanity is marching toward the day when the “earth is filled with knowledge of G-d like the water covers the ocean floor,” but it is not there yet. Our current way of being in the world – what we call ‘life’ – must come to an end in order for us to eventually reach that destination.

Food for Thought

Abarbanel: The root of the answer is to identify the sin of Moses and Aharon, the sin that sentenced their death, preventing them from entering the Land. This is a very deep matter, who can find it? Indeed, my own opinion is different to all those who preceded me.… Moses and Ahaon did not die due to the sin of Mei Meriva … Aharon, the holy one of G-d, died due to the sin of the Golden Calf, and Moses, our master, died for the sin of the Spies. This is not to say that Moses – G-d forbid – backed up the Spies’ advice. But Aharon as you know, with no evil intent, created the Calf… and even though his intent was to lead them calmly until Moses would arrive, we know the end of the story. Indeed, the people were punished severely for their sin, some died in the plague and others by the sword. They didn’t enter the Land, according to G-d’s decree, and Aharon caused all of this! It would only be appropriate justice that just as Aharon caused many people to die in the wilderness, similarly he should die there and not enter the Land. Admittedly he was not like the others who sinned willingly, and so he was not punished together with them, at that time.

… As for the sin of Moses our teacher, when the people requested Spies, they asked only regarding “the route by which we will invade and the cities we shall meet.” (1:22) Indeed G-d also said simply: “Send men that they shall tour the Land of Canaan.” (Bamidbar 13:2) But our master Moses added many dimensions to their mission, ordering them to investigate the nature of the people there, “strong or weak” (Bamidbar 13:18) and the nature of the land etc. … and there is no doubt that all these questions were well intended to boost the nation’s enthusiasm, but we all know how the story ended! The answers regarding the strength of the people and their fortified cities, and the land that consumes its inhabitants etc. deflated their confidence entirely. This all lead to the decree that the nation not enter the land…”

When, in Parshat Chukat, the people complained regarding the lack of water…then G-d commanded them to perform the action of bringing forth water., Moshe got angry with the people … and G-d was furious with Moses …at this point G-d gave them the punishment for their earlier sin. Mei Meriva was just the trigger; it was not the primary cause.

Rav Moshe Chaim Luzzato (Derech Hashem, I:3): If Adam had not sinned, he would have been able to attain total perfection. His soul would have purified his body step by step, until he reached the level required to permanently partake of everlasting bliss. When Adam sinned, however, things were greatly changed. The amount of evil that existed initially was just enough to assure that man would be in a perfect balance, allowing him to gain perfection through his own efforts. When man sinned, though, he caused evil to increase, both in himself and in all creation. As a result, it became much more difficult for him attain the perfection that G-d intended for him.

At first it was very easy for man to overcome his natural faults and attain perfection. The Highest Wisdom had arranged things in the best and fairest manner. The only reason why evil and deficiency existed in man was to make it a part of his nature, a part that he would willfully abandon in favor of good. By simply disassociating himself from deficiencies [in both himself and in the world] the first man was supposed to bring about the perfection, immediately. [No further effort would be necessary.] When Adam sinned, however, he personally caused concealment of perfection and thus an increase of evil. Man himself was responsible for the greater amount of evil that existed in him, and it therefore became much more difficult for him to abandon it. He could no longer earn perfection as easily as when he personally bore no responsibility for his deficiencies. The effort required to earn perfection was therefore doubled. Man must first bring both himself and the world back to the state in which they existed before the first sin. Only then can he raise himself from that state to his destined level of perfection.

Besides this, justice decreed that neither man nor the world will ever be able to rise to perfection while still in their current fallen state. Because they remain in this spoiled, non-ideal| condition, and evil in the meantime has increased, both must anew go through a stage of destruction before either can arrive at perfection. Man must therefore die, and everything else that was corrupted with him also must perish. The soul cannot purify the body until the body dies and deteriorates and a new structure is composed, that the soul can enter and purify. The entire world must likewise be destroyed and cease to exist in its present form, and it must then be renewed in a new state worthy of perfection.

It was therefore decreed that man should die and then be brought back to life. This is the concept of the Resurrection of the Dead (Techiyas ha-Mesim). The entire world must similarly be destroyed and then renewed. This is the meaning of what our Sages taught, “Six thousand years will the world exist, and for one thousand it will be desolate. At the end of this thousand years, G-d will again renew His world.”

Kohelet 9:2 with Rashi: “Everything [comes to them] as [it comes] to all; [there is] one occurrence for the righteous and for the wicked, for the good, and for the pure, and for the unclean.”

one occurrence: And they know that the end of everyone – whether righteous or wicked – is to die, and they all have one fate in this world. All this they know, but nevertheless, they choose for themselves the good way, because they know that there is a difference between them in the World to Come.

for the good: This is Moses.

and for the pure: This is Aaron.

and for the unclean: These are the Spies. These [Moses and Aaron] spoke well of the Land of Israel, but those spoke derogatorily about it. These did not enter the Land, and those did not enter the Land; hence, they have one fate.

Food for Thought

Why is free will a basic tenet of Jewish faith?
According to Rav Kook, individual spiritual development is constrained by humanity’s spiritual level on a cosmic, meta-historical level. To make these ideas a little more ‘down to earth,’ are there ways that our spiritual development is constrained/limited by the generation that we live in? If so, how?
See Abarbanel in “Food for Thought” above. In what sense does he agree with the gemara in Shabbat about Moshe and Aharon not deserving to die? And in what sense does he disagree?
Rav Kook claims that humanity cannot reach the highest levels of perfection without experiencing death. What do you think he means? How does death help humanity reach perfection? (See Derech Hashem above for a possible explanation.)
See the midrash cited by Rashi in “Food for Thought” above. How is it different from the gemara in Shabbat and how is it the same?
Rav Kook refers to a “collective soul of humanity.” What is that, and how else does it express itself?

Living in the Future – Parshat Korach

Printable PDF available here. Previous pieces on Parshat Korach can be found here and here.

The Lord spoke further to Aaron: I hereby give you charge of My gifts, all the sacred donations of the Israelites; I grant them to you and to your sons as an eternal portion…. The choice of the oil and the choice of the wine and grain, the first of which they give to the Lord, to you I have given them. (Bamidbar 18)

**Rav Kook (Based on Ein Ayah, Shabbat 32b)**

Tremendous goodness comes to Israel through the influence of the Kohanim, from the incorporation of such exalted individuals into collective Israel. Alas, the blessing that flows from the institution of the priesthood is not manifest at this stage in history, for this institution is currently but a shadow of its true essence. The G-dly directives that bind the Kohanim to the people and the people the Kohanim – commandments like tithes – [apply only in Israel and] are either ignored, or fulfilled begrudgingly out of a sense of obligation, a desire to fulfill the barest letter of the law.

This is regrettable, but also understandable. Our generation does not comprehend the purpose of life in its full true and eternal character. It cannot see that the honor and dignity owed to the institution of priesthood is not on account of its present stature. Like all spiritual matters, the kehuna is cherished due to its future greatness, from the storehouse of spiritual goodness that accumulates over generations of contributions in past, present, and future. It is part of a Divine edifice built by Torah and mitzvot, whose bricks are laid over many lifetimes.

But we fail to perceive this. We relate to priesthood as little more than a vestigial quirk of yichus (lineage), to Kohanic entitlements (such as tithes) as a tax and a burden to be discharged. With such a limited outlook, life will offer little satisfaction and the soul will find no contentedness from any of its accomplishments. What good is material success when life’s inner content is empty and misunderstood, when humanity’s refined feelings and higher consciousness are incapable of being nourished and have no soil to grow in? This state of mind cannot serve as a vessel for receiving Divine blessing.

We must broaden our outlook and strive to perceive reality from the highest peaks. Our gaze must encompass and embrace all generations and the fulness of all existence. Only with such an outlook can the nation be ready to receive a profusion of blessings, both spiritual and material. It is with regard to this attitude toward tithing that the prophet Malachi (3:10) declared, “Bring all the tithes to the storehouse, so that there is food in My house. Test Me in this, says the Lord of hosts, if I will not open for you the windows of Heaven, and pour out to you blessing until there is more than enough” (lit. עד בלי די).

The prophet does not mean to assert that tithes are a currency in some sort of Divine gumball machine, that if we pay our taxes to the Kohanim [and Leviim], G-d will reward us. Divine reward does not operate in such arbitrary, transactional ways. Malachi is teaching us that when we appreciate and cherish the priesthood – which, as we have already said, requires being rooted in and appreciating the past, present, and (especially) the future – it is then that we have created a vessel for G-d’s unlimited blessings. It is only in such a state that we will find contentedness and inner peace, that we will find our souls permeated with Divine goodness and sense the essential goodness of life, from its heights to its depths. For when life is not limited to or constricted by the flaws of the present, nothing is lacking.⁽¹⁾

(1) Rav Kook concludes by citing the Sages’ homiletical interpretation (Gemara Shabbat 32b) of the phase עד בלי די in Malachi -“Until one’s lips are worn out from declaring ‘Enough!’”

**Rav Kook (Orot ha’Techiah 5); translated by Bezalel Naor**

Great is our past and even greater is our future, which is clarified when we desire the righteous ideals hidden in our souls. With this great power all the moments of the present live and exist in our midst with a full spirit of life, and all the memories by their might fill a multitude of deeds with vitality; infuse mitzvot, customs, and orders with a special power of insight, a distinctive creative ability, an outstanding world-outlook. These are all full of meaning and romance, love and ecstasy, and drenched with the dew of life, of courage and majesty, from our ecstasy, from our courage, from our singular majesty.

The quintessential form of all the arrangements of the life of the society according to the divine formula that corresponds to life – broadening life, purifying and uplifting it to freedom and to the concentration of all the media that make freedom a truly good gift – is hidden [among other places] in the system of the mitzvot dependent on the Land… The future does not desist from demanding of the present its role, and the present becomes interesting to the degree that it knows the future is in need of it. Thus the present is not inconsequential vis-à-vis the future but rather fills up thereby with all its character and essence, and its inclusion in the aspiration of the future and its exalted height adds to it pleasure and living strength.

Therefore, full of life are the memories stored in the commemorations we perform… The things look to us now shriveled, their outer appearance is meager, but inside they are full of life and content. We circumvent the observance of shemitah (the sabbatical year) by selling the lands to a non-Jew; we observe the giving of tithes to the Kohen and to the Levite by a device that inflicts no great loss on the giver, nor brings great profit to the receiver; we bless and tithe, and redeem ma‘aser sheni (the second tithe) worthy of being eaten in sanctity in the central city, holy and living, the site chosen by the Lord, the heart of the nation with all the streams of its life…

But in these minute grains great potential for growth is contained, for all that they long, from all that has grown in the past, and all that they will eventually produce. All this is contained in them in a typical way, and they silently influence the observant soul, constantly fanning a holy fire of love of the land – through these shares of holiness, through the divine, religious, national and ethical superiority of these actions. They educate the people in its days of lowliness to its spirit of greatness. Knesset Israel, its sons and builders, understood this and did not cease from actualizing these memoirs, as much as was possible in the lands of its wanderings, but especially upon its return in any form to its place, its inheritance.

The majesty and beauty, and the special glory that there is in the mitzvot dependent on the Land – when observed now in the Land of Israel by us, by that pioneering force building the ancestral land and preparing a more certain, clearer prospect for the coming generation – is revealed to us from the strength of our inner desire that pounds within our soul, to assert the character of our nation in our ancestral land with its full countenance, with all the contours and lines that make up its character, which stress that this is our nation with its original, lofty value, with its body, spirit, and soul. For this, we aspire to renew upon us early days, as in the days of old, and as in former years. Behold, we slept a national slumber during a long and very difficult galut (exile). Our national energies remained absorbed within our midst. Outside all becomes atrophied and aged, but inside the dew of life continuously streams.

Just as the practical mitzvot in general, in their fullness, went with us in exile and preserved for us in exile our vitality and our inner, essential spirit, bringing us to these days, the beginning of the period of the resurrection of the desire of national renascence in our land, so the mitzvot dependent on the Land will bring us to the upliftment of life, as they [i.e., those mitzvot] were determined by life’s full dimension. The more we contemplate the essence of all the mitzvot dependent on the Land, seeing how far they are from us, how much healthier and stronger our lives must be in order for these mitzvot to be observed by us, so will the ardor grow in us to observe with love and honor that portion that we can observe as a commemoration, a holy commemoration, a remembrance of whole life that will come to us when complete salvation will come to our people on our soil, an eternal salvation. When we observe those mitzvot now, we enrich the soul of our nation with that holy fire that will become a holy flame full of life at the time of rebirth. When we fulfill now the mitzvah of tithes, even though we do not have all the concrete foundations upon which these mitzvot are constructed, “neither a kohen at his service nor a Levite at his song” – behold this vision appears before us and we are filled with a spirit of song exalted as the flight of eagles, in view of the light of the happy days that await our nation on our blessed soil: Here is the Temple on its foundation, a pride and honor for all the nations and kingdoms, and here we carry with joy sheaves of our Land of Delight.

We come with a spirit full of true freedom and pure trust to the silo and winery, full of grain and wine, and our heart is gladdened by the abundance of a Land of Delight. There appear before us priests, holy men, servants of the Temple of the Lord, G-d of Israel. Their hearts are full of love and kindness, the holy spirit floods their faces, and we recall the crescendo of holy feelings that filled us at the time we saw their faces, when we went up on pilgrimage; when we saw them standing to serve within our Temple pride of our strength and delight of our eyes. How handsome and pleasant they are to us, and now here is our silo full of the blessing of the Lord from this Land of Delight that we inherited from our fathers, and the portions of these men, men of spirit, are with us. We are happy to give to them their tithes; we find within our midst an exalted feeling and rise together with the tithe to the spiritual plane where these holy men ascend.

Our soul is drenched with the bounty of heaven. And behold the Levites, these delicate ones who captivated our hearts with their harmonious music in the holy place during the festival, when we went up to see the glorious Temple of G-d in Jerusalem, to behold the face of the Master, the Lord, G-d of Israel. Their joyous, delicate faces remind us of their holy music; we float in streams of spiritual joy and give them with a happy heart their portion, the tithe. Soon we will once again meet on the Mountain of the Lord at the next festival. How proud we will be to see these kohanim (priests) and Levites of the Lord at their holy work and music! Happy the people who has this; happy the people whose G-d is the Lord.

Questions for Discussion/Further Thought

What role are the Kohanim meant to serve?
Why did the Kohanim need to be supported by the people?
Rav Kook encourages us to move from a narrow perspective focused on the present to one that “encompasses and embraces all generations and the fulness of all existence.” That sounds like a lofty goal. How do we achieve it?
Why are the priestly entitlements reiterated in Parshat Korach?
Are the two pieces above from Rav Kook saying the same thing, or is there a slightly different emphasis in each?
Rav Kook writes that “Behold, we slept a national slumber during a long and very difficult galut (exile). Our national energies remained absorbed within our midst. Outside all becomes atrophied and aged, but inside the dew of life continuously streams.” What do you think he means?
What problems does contemporary culture/society face as a result of being excessively focused on the present?