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The Sacred Flame – Parshat Vayakhel/Pekudei

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

Printable PDF available here.

Translation (Ein Ayah, Shabbat 20a):

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Commentary

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

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

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

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

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

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

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

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

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

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

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

[6]Gemara Pesachim 54a.

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

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

[9]Antisocial Media, pg. 19.

 

A Continuous Flame – Parshat Tetzaveh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Sabbath and Sweetening the Waters – Parshat Beshalach

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Printable PDF available here. Please print and share with friends!

Last year’s post on Parshat Beshalach is available here.

Rav Kook (Otzrot haRe’iah, Vol. 2, pg. 172-173)

Based on the Translation of Rabbi Chanan Morrison (RavKookTorah.org)

They came to Marah, but they could not drink the waters because they were bitter… So he [Moshe] cried out to G-d, and G-d instructed him concerning a piece of wood, which Moshe cast into the water, and the water became sweet. There He gave them a statute and an ordinance, and there He tested them. (Shemot 15:23-25)

Our Sages teach that Israel received several mitzvot at Marah – honoring one’s parents, certain aspects of the judicial system, and keeping Shabbat.[1]It sounds like these commandments were not actually binding, but a kind of practice or preparation for receiving the Torah at Har Sinai. The Torah describes it as a “test.”[2]But what kind of test was this, and how did it prepare the people for the Torah? To unravel this puzzle, let us focus specifically on the command of Shabbat.

The Torah tells us that before Shabbat was given at Marah, it was a place of bitter waters. G-d then showed Moshe a certain “tree,” whose wood sweetened the water. Our Sages teach that on a deeper level, this was all a metaphor for Torah. The laws of the Torah are truly sweet, but to perceive that sweetness, one needs a pure soul and a refined character. Someone afflicted with negative middot and a coarse personality will not experience the goodness of Torah life. He will relate to mitzvot not as an opportunity, but a source of repression that stifles his enjoyment of a ‘good’ life. Similarly, the waters of Marah were sweet all along. Israel just had to take the appropriate steps to bring out that sweetness.

In particular, Marah laid the groundwork for Sinai by reinforcing the positive traits of kindness and compassion that are innate to Israel.[3]The people would then be ready to receive the Torah, now that their moral development allowed them to appreciate the sweetness of the Torah’s laws. But what does this have to do with Shabbat?

The answer is as follows. For the sake of social order and harmony, people need to be occupied with labor. Work relationships and business dealings motivate people to be polite and pleasant to one another. Even if they do not like one another, it is in their self-interest to be friendly and helpful. If they are not working, however, this motive no longer exists. Human nature instinctively looks out for self-protection and survival; without an incentive to gain the good will of others, people are inclined to revert back to their natural, self-centered tendencies. This was the test of Marah and the day of Sabbath rest. Would Israel discover within itself an innate quality of compassion? Would they remain considerate and accommodating, without any personal profit to be gained from kindness on the day of rest?

This also the purpose of providing the manna, another pre-Sinai phenomenon that begins in Parshat Beshalach. The Torah tells us that G-d gave us manna in order to “test whether or not we would keep His law” (Shemot 16:4). With their food provided for them, the Israelites had no need to earn a living. Would they remain considerate to their neighbors without the incentive of personal gain? If they did so, that would demonstrate that their kindness was not out of self-interest, but an expression of an inner compassion and generosity. The Jewish people could not accept the Torah without inculcating these traits.

Incidentally, we can now explain why Shabbat is a special gift for the Jewish people, and is forbidden to Noachides (see Gemara Sanhedrin 58b). This is surprising – given that Shabbat commemorates the creation of the universe, we would expect it to be accessible to all of humanity. However, the seven Noahide laws do not demand the refinement of human nature, but merely the avoidance of evil. The Torah, on the other hand, was revealed in order to elevate the Jewish people to holiness and closeness to the Divine. The non-Jewish world is free to build a society upon expediency and personal gain, but Israel’s ethical ideals must be based upon a love of “that which is good and proper in the eyes of G-d” (Devarim 12:28).

For this reason, the Torah could not be given until Israel’s innate goodness was fortified through the mitzvot of Marah.

[1]Rashi cites a slightly different tradition that has parah adumah instead of honoring one’s parents.

[2]See also Rashi – “In Marah, He gave them some sections of the Torah to occupy themselves with…”

[3]“There are three distinguishing marks of this nation. They are merciful, they have a sense of shame, and they perform acts of kindness.” Gemara Yevamot, 79a.

Food for Thought

Rambam (Hilchot De’ot 2:1): To those who are physically sick, the bitter tastes sweet and the sweet bitter. Some of the sick even desire and crave that which is not fit to eat, such as earth and charcoal, and hate healthful foods, such as bread and meat – all depending on how serious the sickness is. Similarly, those who are morally ill desire and love bad traits, hate the good path, and are lazy to follow it. Depending on how sick they are, they find it exceedingly burdensome. Isaiah (5:20) speaks of such people in a like manner: “Woe to those who call the bad good, and the good bad, who take darkness to be light and light to be darkness, who take bitter to be sweet and sweet to be bitter.” Concerning them, Mishlei (2:13) states: “Those who leave the upright paths to walk in the ways of darkness.” What is the remedy for the morally ill? They should go to the wise, for they are the healers of souls. They will heal them by teaching them how to acquire proper traits, until they return them to the good path.

Ramban (Shemot 15:25): In line with the plain meaning of Scripture, when the Israelites began coming into the great and dreadful wilderness… Moshe established customs for them concerning how to regulate their lives and affairs until they come to an inhabited land. A custom is called a chok and also mishpat…It may mean that Moshe instructed them in the ways of the wilderness, namely, to be ready to suffer hunger and thirst and to pray to G-d, and not to murmur. He taught them ordinances whereby they should live, to love one another, to follow the counsel of the elders, to be discreet in their tents with regards to women and children, to deal in a peaceful manner with the strangers that come into the camp to sell them various objects. He also imparted moral instructions.

Gemara Bava Kamma (82a): “And they went three days in the wilderness, and found no water.” (Shemot 15:22) Metaphorically, water here refers to Torah…The verse means that since the Jews traveled for three days without hearing any Torah they became weary, and therefore the prophets among them arose and instituted for them that they should read from the Torah each Shabbat, Monday, and Thursday, so they would not go three days without hearing the Torah.

Rashi (Shemot 16:4): “So that I can test them, whether…they will follow My teaching”: [This means that through giving the manna, I will test] whether they will keep the commandments contingent upon it, [i.e.,] that they will not leave any of it over, and that they will not go out on the Sabbath to gather [the manna].

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks: [Sabbath]it creates for one day a week a world in which values are not determined by money or its equivalent… You can’t buy or sell or pay for someone’s services. It is the most tangible expression of the moral limits of markets. Whether in the synagogue or home, relationships are determined by other things altogether, by a sense of kinship, belonging and mutual responsibility. [Sabbath also] renews social capital. It bonds people into communities in ways not structured by transactions of wealth or power. It is to time what parks are to space: something precious that we share on equal terms and that none of us could create or possess on our own.

Questions for Discussion

  1. Why did the Jews have to fortify their compassion and generosity before they could receive the Torah?
  2. See Ramban’s explanation above in “Food for Thought.” How is it different than Rav Kook? How is it similar?
  3. Rav Kook says that someone with a coarse personality cannot appreciate the Torah’s sweetness. Why is this? And how does refining one’s personality change that?
  4. See Rabbi Jonathan Sacks above in “Food for Thought.” How is his understanding of Shabbat a polar contrast to Rav Kook? Who do you think is correct, and why?
  5. Rav Kook writes that “The seven Noahide laws do not demand the refinement of human nature, but merely the avoidance of evil.” What evidence might support Rav Kook’s position? Do you think he is correct?
  6. Can you think of a time when you experienced the sweetness of Torah life?
  7. According to the gemara, judicial laws and kibud av v’em were also given at Marah. Based on the excerpt above, how do you think Rav Kook would explain those?
  8. What are appropriate ways to spend time on Shabbat? What are inappropriate ways?

Know Your Place – and Rise Above It – Parshat Bo

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Printable PDF available here.

Last year’s post on Parshat Bo can be found here. It deals with many of the same themes, and is an interesting contrast/companion to the piece below.

Rav Kook (Ein Ayah, Gemara Shabbat)

When lofty spiritual illuminations are revealed to those who are unsuitable, they are lowered and debased. The transcendent light of G-dliness becomes distorted, in accordance with the shallow and corrupt character of its recipient, much like water takes the shape of its container. The G-dly light loses its supernal splendor.

However, there are exceptional cases, when the spiritual/moral level of the recipient can be disregarded. In these instances, G-d suspends the normal spiritual order and allows for a spiritual “leap.” G-d’s revelation to our forefathers in Egypt,[1]on the night of the first Pesach, is the paradigm for such a miraculous “leap.” Israel was mired in the impurity of Egypt and Egyptian paganism. Our Sages teach that spiritually, we seemed indistinguishable from our idolatrous masters. According to the Zohar, we were on the “forty-ninth level of impurity” and would have become spiritually destroyed had the Exodus been delayed by even a single moment.

For G-d to reveal Himself at this junction required a spiritual jump of historic dimensions. Indeed, the name “Pesach” connotes leaping or skipping, not only because G-d “skipped” over Jewish homes when striking the Egyptian firstborn, but also because He “leaped” over the natural, incremental spiritual order. On that night, every Jew in Egypt merited a revelation of the Shechinah, despite being sunken in the lowest levels of degradation and spiritual defilement. And this was not a one-off occurrence. It established a paradigm for the future, for future generations of Jews to be able to overstep the constraints of their failures and imperfections, to leap upward toward G-dliness without limits or hesitation.

Of course, this is not the normal, and most times, one must absolutely proceed step-by-step. There are many different levels on the ladder between heaven and earth, and while we all strive to rise upward, each person must be conscious of where he stands at any point in time. It is presumptuous and unsustainable for an ordinary person to try and become a tzadik overnight, and the attempt will only distort the tzaddik’s path. But even so, the “leap” of Pesach night sweetens the spiritual journey for future generations, for every Jew to make an occasional and intermittent “leap” towards G-d.

But even here, there are limitations. The Torah tells us (Shemot 12:43) that “This is the law of the Passover offering: no foreigner may eat of it,” and our Sages (Gemara Zevachim 22b) teach us that this encompasses Jewish apostates who have abandoned G-d. Jews who have forsaken the ideals of the Torah to such an extent fall under the category of “foreigners.” We see that even the spiritual leap of the Passover redemption was not boundless in its scope. It could not encompass Jews who had become so assimilated into the idolatrous culture of Egypt that they lacked even an elementary faith in G-d.

Food for Thought

Rav Tzadok haKohen (Tzidkat haTzadik 1): A person’s entry into the service of G-d must be with haste, as we find that the Pesach offering brought in Egypt was eaten in haste, which was not the case with the Pesach offering brought in later generations. Because when a person begins to sever himself from all the physical desires of this world to which he is attached, he must guard the moment in which the will of G-d stirs up within him, and make haste in that moment to leave his desires, perhaps he will succeed. Afterwards, he can once again proceed with moderation and slowness as is the law regarding the Pesach offering brought in later generations.

Maimonides (Guide for the Perplexed, III:32): It is… impossible to go suddenly from one extreme to the other: it is therefore according to the nature of man impossible for him suddenly to discontinue everything to which he has been accustomed. The Torah expresses this idea when it says (Shemot 13:17) “It came to pass when Pharaoh let the people go, that G-d did not lead them [by] way of the land of the Philistines for it was near, because G-d said, Lest the people reconsider when they see war and return to Egypt.” It is contrary to human nature to suddenly abandon all the different kinds of Divine service and the different customs in which he has been brought up and become habituated. It would be just as if a person trained to work as a slave with mortar and bricks, or similar things, should interrupt his work, clean his hands, and at once fight with real giants. It was the result of G-d’s wisdom that the Israelites were led about in the wilderness till they acquired courage. For it is a well-known fact that travelling in the wilderness, and the attendant deprivation of physical pleasures… produces courage, while the reverse is the source of faint-heartedness. And so another generation rose during Israel’s wandering in the desert that had not been accustomed to degradation and slavery.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (Covenant and Conversation, Shelach5777): It takes more than a few days or weeks to turn a population of slaves into a nation capable of handling the responsibilities of freedom. In the case of the Israelites it needed a generation born in liberty, hardened by the experience of the desert, untrammeled by habits of servitude. Freedom takes time, and there are no shortcuts. Often it takes a very long time indeed. That dimension of time is fundamental to the Jewish view of politics and human progress. That is why, in the Torah, Moses repeatedly tells the adults to educate their children, to tell them the story of the past, to “remember”. It is why the covenant itself is extended through time – handed on from one generation to the next. It is why the story of the Israelites is told at such length in Tanakh: the time-span covered by the Hebrew Bible is a thousand years from… Moses to the last of the prophets. It is why G-d acts in and through history.

Unlike Christianity or Islam there is, in Judaism, no sudden transformation of the human condition, no one moment or single generation in which everything significant is fully disclosed. Why, asks Maimonides (Guide, III:32), did G-d not simply give the Israelites in the desert the strength or self-confidence they needed to cross the Jordan and enter the land? His answer: because it would have meant saying goodbye to human freedom, choice and responsibility. Even G-d Himself, implies Maimonides, has to work with the grain of human nature and its all-too-slow pace of change. Not because G-d cannot change people: of course He can. He created them; He could re-create them. The reason is that G-d chooses not to…He wants human beings to construct a society of freedom – and how could He do that if, in order to bring it about, He had to deprive them of the very freedom He wanted them to create.

There are some things a parent may not do for a child if he or she wants the child to become an adult. There are some things even G-d must choose not to do for His people if He wants them to grow to moral and political maturity. In one of my books I called this the chronological imagination, as opposed to the Greek logical imagination. Logic lacks the dimension of time. That is why philosophers tend to be either rigidly conservative (Plato did not want poets in his Republic; they threatened to disturb the social order) or profoundly revolutionary (Rousseau, Marx). The current social order is either right or wrong. If it is right, we should not change it. If it is wrong, we should overthrow it. The fact that change takes time, even many generations, is not an idea easy to square with philosophy (even those philosophers, like Hegel and Marx, who factored in time, did so mechanically, speaking about “historical inevitability” rather than the unpredictable exercise of freedom).

Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch (Commentary on the Torah, Shemot 6:14):[The non-Jewish world erroneously believes that] a man could be known as a complete idiot today, and tomorrow proclaim the word of G-d. The spirit of G-d could suddenly descend on an ignorant and uneducated person and lo! he can speak in seventy languages… and then, the more ignorant, the more uneducated the prophet of today was yesterday, the greater the proof of the divinity of the Call that worked this change. Our [genealogical] register here [of Moses and Aaron in Parshat Va’era] counters this dangerous error…Moses and Aaron were… picked, chosen men. Had G-d wished simply to pick the first comer, other tribes than Levi stood at His disposal, and in Levi other branches than Kehat, and amongst the families of Kehat, other households than Amram, and among Amram’s children there was the older Aaron. But G-d chooses the noblest and most suitable to be His tools and messengers. Before he receives his call, the human being must develop and mature his human qualities. It was not Abraham nor Isaac but Jacob who became the real founder of the House of Israel. Not Reuben or Simeon but Levi is to be the chosen tribe. Not Aaron nor Miriam, but Moses became the “Messenger of G-d”. Everything has to ripen up to the degree of fitness which qualifies it for selection.

Rav Kook (Orot haTeshuva 14:18): Within every stage that a person may be on and within his every apprehension of the world, there is a treasury of holiness. When a person skips and soars with great rapidity beyond his level, he is deprived of the holy content of the lower stages that are appropriate for him. And he cannot cling to the upper because they are too spiritual for him. Therefore, he must return with a broken heart and with joy to the levels that he had left behind. Nevertheless, he should not forget the impression of the supernal levels – for once he has risen, he will not descend. And then everything will be transformed into good.

Rav Moshe Weinberger (Song of Teshuva, Vol. 4 Pg. 188): As a person moves toward his goal, there is a treasury of holiness at every step along the way. That is why, when G-d took the Jews out of Egypt, He did not bring them to Har Sinai in a single second and then to the Land of Israel a second later. Instead, He led them on a 49 day trek to Har Sinai and then led them in the desert for 40 years until they reached Eretz Yisrael. This is because there was a treasury of holiness in each of the encampments along the way.

Questions for Discussion

  1. When does a person need to make a ‘leap’ in his or spiritual development?
  2. What are some of the dangers of spiritual growth that doesn’t happen incrementally? Is there any evidence from later episodes in the book of Shemot?
  3. See Rav Tzadok haKohen’s observations above in “Food for Thought.” How is his position different from Rav Kook’s? How is it the same?
  4. Can you remember a time that you “leaped” to a spiritual level that had previously seemed beyond you? How did it go?
  5. Is there a point beyond which a person can no longer return and do teshuva? Why or why not?
  6. Other than the Exodus, where else in Jewish history (ancient or modern) are there instances of Israel ‘leaping up’ to higher spiritual levels?
  7. Which religion do you think Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch is criticizing in “Food For Thought”?

[1] As described in the Haggadah –עַל שׁוּם שֶׁלֹא הִסְפִּיק בְּצֵקָם שֶׁל אֲבוֹתֵינוּ לְהַחֲמִיץ, עַד שֶׁנִּגְלָה עֲלֵיהֶם מֶלֶךְ מַלְכֵי הַמְּלָכִים הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא וּגְאָלָם.

Building and Destroying Character – Parshat Va’eira

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Printable PDF available here. Please print and share with friends!

Last year’s post on Parshat Va’eira is available here.

Rav Kook (Orot haTeshuva, 14:25)

And Pharaoh saw that the rain, the hail, and the thunder had ceased; so he continued to sin, and he strengthened his heart, he and his servants. And Pharaoh’s heart was hardened, and he did not let the children of Israel go out, as the Lord had spoken through the hand of Moses. (Shemot 9:34-35)

Sometimes bad traits come as punishment for a person’s previous sins. Then it does not suffice for a person to try and purify his bad traits in and of themselves. Rather, he will be able to return to his state of purity only when he examines his deeds and does teshuvah for his sins that caused him to be punished with the debasement of his traits.

Commentary (Rav Moshe Weinberger, Song of Teshuva Vol. 4)

Great rabbis such as the Ari and R. Chaim Vital teach that the essence of a Jew is holy and pure. Where then do a Jew’s bad traits come from? The Mussar literature answers that these traits come not from his essence but from his nefesh, his animal soul, and are superimposed upon his intrinsic goodness. Typically, a person’s bad traits are congenitally or environmentally shaped. But sometimes, Rav Kook states — in line with teachings of the Zohar and the Ari — G-d punishes a person for his sins by afflicting him with bad traits, in particular with a stubbornness of heart, as was the case with Pharaoh (Shemos 7:3). That is the worst punishment of all.

Thus, there are some people who stubbornly refuse to follow a halachah found in the Shulchan Aruch. Someone could speak to them day and night but they will not accept it. They will not listen to criticism, or agree to bind themselves to the most straightforward of Torah laws. This has nothing to do with intellectual differences or with an inability to subject themselves to the discipline that would be involved. It is due only to their having a hardened, stubborn heart. Even if someone demonstrates to them that their stubbornness is destroying their lives, they do not hear. They prefer to watch their entire kingdom, everything they have lived for, crumble before their eyes rather than comply.

Such people’s hardness of heart expresses itself in their indulgence in the trait of mockery. They make fun of Jews who keep Torah and mitzvos, of different types of Yiddishkeit, of serving Hashem. Such people should rather cry out to Hashem, “I know that this is a punishment for all of my sins. I have a sealed heart and I cannot see the truth.”

In the yearly cycle of the Torah reading, every time we come to the Parshiyos that tell about the Exodus, we think that Pharaoh was a fool for having contested G-d. But if Pharaoh could look at us, he would say, “What makes you any smarter? Aren’t you ruining your children and yourself with gossip, slander, looking at immodest sights and all kinds of filth? Isn’t your own life crumbling before your eyes? You make fun of me, yet although you constantly hear words of reproof, the words of the living G-d, from holy books, you still sin. You’re still destroying your life.”

Typically, when a person wants to rid himself of a bad trait that hurts him and others, he studies Mussar texts or follows the suggestions found in self-help literature. However, that approach may not help. And if so, it is possible that this trait has come as a punishment for his sins. Therefore, the way for him to rectify that bad trait is to do teshuvah for his sins, even though he may not see any connection between the two.

Food for Thought

Rashi (Shemot 7:3): Since he [Pharaoh] behaved wickedly and defied Me, and I know full well that there is no delight among the nations to make a wholehearted attempt to repent, it is better for Me that his heart be hardened, so that [I can] increase My signs and My wonders in him, and you will recognize My mighty deeds, and so is the custom of the Holy One, blessed be He. He brings retribution on the nations so that Israel should hear and fear, as it is said: “I have cut off nations; their towers have become desolate… I said, ‘Surely you will fear Me, you will accept reproof’” (Tzephania. 3:6-7). Nevertheless, in the first five plagues, it does not say, “And the Lord strengthened Pharaoh’s heart,” but “Pharaoh’s heart remained steadfast.”

Ramban (Shemot 7:3): I will answer the question that all who read this narrative are want to ask; “If G-d hardens Pharaoh’s heart what is his sin?” There are two reasons both of which are true.

The first reason is that Pharaoh, in his wickedness, committed unwarranted acts of evil against Israel. As a result, his ability to repent was removed. There are many verses in Scripture that suggest that one can be judged by one’s earlier actions.

The second reason is that his sin was his unwillingness to liberate Israel resulting in the first five plagues, where it only says, “Pharaoh’s heart was stiffened,” or “Pharaoh’s heart was hardened.” This exhibits that he did not want to liberate Israel to honor G-d. However, when the plagues intensified and he began to suffer from them, his heart was softened and he was wont to free them because of the plagues and not in recognition of divine will. At that point, G-d hardened his spirit and strengthened his heart in order to make His name known…

Rambam (Hilchot Teshuva 6:3): And, it is possible that a man should commit either one grievous iniquity or a multitude of sins so that the Judge of Truth will decree against him that, whereas this sinner committed those sins of his own free will and consciously, repentance should be withheld from him altogether, and grant him no leave to repent, so that he might die and perish in the iniquity he committed. Even this is what the Holy One, blessed is He! said through Isaiah: “Make the heart of this people fat, and make their eyes heavy, and shut their eyes; lest they, seeing with their eyes, and hearing with their ears, and understanding with their heart will return and be healed” (Is. 6.10). It is, moreover, said: “But they mocked the messengers of G-d, and despised His words and scoffed at His prophets, until the wrath of the Lord arose against His people till there was no remedy”. (II Chro. 36.16)—as if saying: “They sinned of their own free will and they have multiplied iniquities, until their guilt carried the punishment to withhold repentance from them, which is the remedy”. It is, therefore, written in the Torah; “And I will harden Pharaoh’s heart” (Ex. 14.4), because at the beginning he sinned of his own free will, and meted out evil to Israel who sojourned in his land, even as it is said: “Come, let us deal wisely with them” (Ibid. 1.10). Thereat justice demanded to withhold repentance from him, so that due punishment might be visited upon him. Wherefor, the Holy One, blessed is He! hardened his heart. If it be so, then why did He delegate Moses to him, charging him to let Israel go forth and turn to repentance seeing that the Holy One, blessed is He! long since told him thou wilt not let them go forth, saying: “But as for thee and thy servants, I know that ye will not yet fear the Lord G-d” (Ibid. 9.30), and again saying: “But in very deed for this cause have I made thee to stand, to show thee My power, and that My name be declared throughout all the earth”(Ibid. –16)? To demonstrate to the future generations whenever the Holy One, blessed is He! withholds repentance from a sinner he cannot repent, but must die in the original evil which he perpetrated of his own free will. Sihon, too, by the measure of his iniquity became guilty of an offence which carried the punishment to have repentance withheld from him, even as it is said: “For the Lord thy G-d hardened his spirit, and made his heart obstinate” (Deut. 2.30). Likewise the Canaanites, according to their abominations, did He withhold repentance from them so that they engaged Israel in battle, even as it is said: “For it was of the Lord, to harden their hearts, to come against Israel in battle, that they might be utterly destroyed” (Joshua, 11.20). Even so was with Israel in the days of Elijah, because of the multiplied iniquity repentance was withheld from the gross evildoers, for it is said: “For Thou didst turn their heart backward” (I. Kings, 18.37)—as if saying: “Thou didst withhold repentance from them”. Thus, as a consequence hereof, we must say: G-d’s predestination prompted not Pharaoh to wrong Israel, nor Sihon to sin in his land, nor the Canaanites to be abominable, nor Israel to worship idolatry; for they all sinned of their own free will and accord, and, therefore, were they all guilty of an offence which carries along the punishment to withhold repentance from them.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (Covenant and Conversation, Va’era 5775): A second approach, in precisely the opposite direction, is that during the last five plagues G-d intervened not to harden but to strengthen Pharaoh’s heart. He acted to ensure that Pharaoh kept his freedom and did not lose it. Such was the impact of the plagues that in the normal course of events a national leader would have no choice but to give in to a superior force. As Pharaoh’s own advisers said before the eighth plague, “Do you not yet realize that Egypt is destroyed.” To give in at that point would have been action under duress, not a genuine change of heart. Such is the approach of Yosef Albo and Ovadiah Sforno.

Questions for Discussion

  1. We usually think of punishment and involving pain and suffering. How is a bad character trait experienced as a punishment?
  2. Why is free will an important concept in Torah? What are some basic Torah concepts that hinge on free will?
  3. Is free will uniquely important to Judaism, or is it a basic premise of any religion?
  4. What are some of the differences between the solutions presented by Rashi, Ramban and Rambam on the problem of G-d hardening Pharaoh’s heart? What are some similarities?
  5. How can a person know if a bad trait is a punishment for his sin’s, like Rav Kook discusses, as opposed to something he acquired from outside influences or was born with?
  6. Can you name some bad character traits that could come as a punishment?

 

Fall Back and Spring Forward – Parshat Shemot

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Last year’s piece on Parshat Shemot can be found here.

Printable PDF available here.

Rav Kook (Olat Re’iah)

So they appointed over them tax collectors to afflict them with their burdens, and they built storage cities for Pharaoh, Pithom and Ra’amses. But as much as they would afflict them, so did they multiply and so did they gain strength… (Shemot 1:11-12)

There are two different paths for an individual to actualize his latent potential and bring out the full vigor and force of his capabilities. The first path is by granting space and freedom to his talents, allowing them to steadily broaden and magnify their impact in the world of action. We readily understand how this path elevates a person’s practical aptitudes and brings his potential into actuality.

In the second path, one’s talents are restrained and held back against his will, by circumstances beyond his choice or control. Any latent potential is impeded and imprisoned, and blocked from flowing outward and finding expression in the broader world. G-d leads a person on this path so that when the external impediments are removed, his potential will burst outward with greater vigor and nobility – not despite the earlier constriction, but precisely because of it.

The idea of constriction for the sake of future expansion is familiar to us from the natural world. In the cold of winter, plants cease to grow and many animals retreat to hibernation. This appears to be a time of death, when nature’s vigor is extinguished and stamped out. But this is a superficial perspective of winter. In reality, the natural world is simply turning inward to protect itself, and to conserve its strength from being depleted or spread thin. Plants and animals do not die in the winter – rather, they gather additional resources and strength, and burst forth with renewed vigor when spring arrives.[1]

This same dynamic applies to the powers of a person’s nefesh, his ethical and intellectual facilities, and his conduct in the world of action. And it applies not only to an individual, but also to the Jewish people as a collective.[2]We see this clearly at the beginning of Sefer Shemot. Israel went down to Egypt with a repository of kedushah and a spiritual vision for all of humanity, a vision that it had inherited from Avraham, Yitzchak and Ya’akov. This Divine treasure was intrinsic to Israel’s very nature, and could not be extinguished. It was destined to flourish and ascend, to expand and leave its mark on every dimension of Israel’s existence – its conduct, way of thinking, family life, political system, and economy.

However, Divine wisdom decreed that this expansion would not unfold without impediments. In the earlier generations of the Avot, the spiritual development of what would become Israel’s heritage was guided primarily along the first path. G-d protected the Avot from their enemies, helped them thrive and gave them space – physical and spiritual – to bring G-dliness into human life. In contrast, Israel’s time in Egypt would be an experience of constraint and restriction. Egypt, the most powerful empire at the time, was a place of paganism and impurity, the polar opposite of what Israel sought to bring to the world. Israel’s yearning for G-dly freedom, and its values of righteousness, compassion, and holiness – all of these would be crushed under the tremendous and apparently immovable force of Egyptian impurity, ignorance, wickedness, and worship of power. Israel would be spiritually challenged and physically enslaved, without any ability to outwardly express its spiritual vision.

The enslavement was so oppressive that before long, even Israel no longer perceived its uniqueness. But Israel’s G-dly spark could not be extinguished by Pharaoh and the whips of his task-maskers. The people had not been abandoned by G-d. No, G-d designed the Egyptian exile as a time for Israel to turn inward and gather reservoirs of spiritual strength. That strength and drive for expansiveness, that suppressed yearning to imprint G-dliness upon every level of reality in the world of action, would explode outward as soon as G-d broke the might of the Egyptian empire, declared the Jewish people His servants and set them free.

Food for Thought

Ramban al-haTorah (Shemot 33:15): [Based on the census in the book of Shemot, the tribe of Levi was less than half the size of the smallest tribe, and very far from the average of 50,000]. The small number of Levites is surprising: how could the servants and followers of God not be blessed by Him like all the rest of the nation? I believe that this substantiates what Chazal taught, namely, that the tribe of Levi were not enslaved in Egypt. Israel, whose lives were embittered with hard labor with the intention of limiting their number, were increased by God in response to the Egyptian decrees, as we learn “And the more they oppressed them, the more they increased and the more they multiplied…” For the Holy One said of the Egyptians, “Let us see whose word prevails, Mine or theirs.” But [because they were not enslaved] the tribe of Levi increased in a natural way and did not multiply like the other tribes.

Ohr haChaim (Shemot 1:11): The plain meaning of the verse is that for every unjustified act of cruelty by the Egyptians, G-d compensated the Jewish people with a commensurate increase in the number of babies that were born to them. Additional hands enabled the parents to meet the work quota imposed upon them by the Egyptians. The words כן ירבה, “so they would multiply,” would then mean that the additional number of children made up for the reduced performance by their weakened parents in proportion to the emasculating effect of the hard labor. This became a vicious circle as the Egyptians kept increasing the workload.

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Collected Writings, Vol. VII pg. 13): During an age when the rest of mankind filled history’s annals with such a poor reflection of itself in the form of Jewish blood, Jewish tears and Jewish ruins, Israel could hardly he blamed for having little desire or inclination to read the pages of history. And yet the Jewish perspective even then was never so narrow as we tend to believe today. The age of ghettos and burnings at the stake had been preceded by centuries during which Jewish sages, the sages of Jewish scholarship, had been, at the same time, pillars of the general sciences of heaven and earth. Nearly every page of the literature that was treasured in ghetto tenements bore witness to the authors’ deep insights into the nature of things and their relationship to one another, and into the nature of man and his social development. Moreover, there was within the souls of Jewish men and women a horizon far broader than the small strips of sky visible from the alleys in which the Jews were confined. In their hearts there shone a light of truth and clarity, a sun of peace and serenity that not even the oppressive darkness of their dwellings and the even darker realities outside could obscure. And so they did not really miss engaging in science or that culture which they knew to be incapable of rescuing its disciples from the shackles of shameful delusion and deplorable error. It was precisely in this isolated state in which both Jewish scholarship and the Jewish people found themselves that Jewish scholarship gave proof of the Divine strength which is inherent in it, of the light that refreshes the soul, brightens the eyes and gladdens the heart. Even when it was turned inward upon itself and its wellsprings, Jewish scholarship was capable of enlightening, strengthening, ennobling, uplifting, comforting and sustaining an entire nation—as long as that nation dedicated itself to these studies with a loyal, devoted and sincere love.

Questions for Discussion

  1. Do you think the Jewish people have been more successful at the first path Rav Kook describes or the second?
  2. Midrash and Torah commentaries struggle to explain why the Jews had to be enslaved in Egypt. To grossly oversimplify, (i) some interpret it as a punishment, (ii) others try to understand it kabbalistically, (iii) some explain that the suffering somehow refined us spiritually, and (iv) some interpret that our redemption from slavery was meant to teach critical spiritual and ethical lessons to the world and the Jewish people. Where does Rav Kook fall on this issue?
  3. What are other parallels between individual human development and Israel’s national development?
  4. The Zohar teaches that that the Jews were on the 49thlevel of tumah in Egypt, and that had the Exodus been delayed another moment, they would have been spiritually destroyed. But only a short time later, they were singing to G-d at the Yam Suf and hearing G-d speak at Har Sinai! How can Rav Kook’s insights help us make sense of this apparent paradox?
  5. What is a time in your life when G-d led you on the first path that Rav Kook describes? On the second path?
  6. Based on Rav Kook’s insights, can you give a deeper explanation of why Pesach always falls (and must always full) in the springtime?
  7. See the Ohr haChaim in “Food for Thought” above. How is he similar to Rav Kook? How is he different?

[1]Another example of this phenomenon is a spring, where pushing down creates potential energy that is released explosively once the pressure is removed.

[2]Chazal state (based on a pasuk in Yechezkel) about the Jewish people that אתם קרויים אדם. As Rav Kook interprets it, this means that Israel is governed by many of the same rules and patterns that apply to the nature and development of individuals.

Rising Above Ayin ha’Ra – Parshat Vayechi

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Printable PDF available here.

Last year’s post on Parshat Vayechi can be found here.

Rav Kook (Ein Ayah, Gemara Berachot 55b)

One who enters a city and fears ayin ha’ra should… recite the following: “I, so-and-so son of so-and-so, come from the descendants of Yosef, over whom the ayin ha’ra has no dominion.” As it is stated: “Yosef is a fruitful vine, a fruitful vine by a fountain [lit. alei ayin]; its branches run over the wall” (Bereishit 49:22). Do not read it as alei ayin; but rather olei ayin, “who rise above the eye.” That is, ayin ha’ra has no dominion over Yosef… [Alternatively], this can be derived from Ya’akov’s blessing to Yosef’s sons: “And let them grow like fish into a multitude in the midst of the earth” (Bereishit 48:16): Just as fish in the sea are covered by water and the ayin ha’ra has no dominion over them [as they cannot be seen], so too the offspring of Yosef, the ayin ha’ra has no dominion over them.

The precise mechanics of ayin ha’ra – literally, the ‘evil eye’ – are beyond our ability to comprehend, but they are not entirely inscrutable. Ayin ha’ra is rooted in the spiritual reality that one soul can be influenced and affected by others. We all know that the way we feel or think can be swayed by outside influences, whether for good or bad, and ayin ha’ra is simply a deeper manifestation of this reality.

However, a person is not susceptible to ayin ha’ra unless his soul is weak and lacks a healthy self-worth. This person’s choices are not grounded in a deep inner resolve, but rather from a constant outward gaze for approval and validation. This is a state of profound servitude, and it makes a person vulnerable to all types of spiritual corruption. The more that a person is weak, and lacking an inner wealth and confidence, the more vulnerable he will be to ayin ha’ra over his thinking, his emotions and his actions.

The Torah wants each person to rise above this smallness and find true wealth and pleasantness, repose and strength, in an inner world permeated with love and fear of G-d, unencumbered by servitude to the influences and demands of other people. Someone with spiritual authenticity is immune to ayin ha’ra, because the ‘eye’ of others is not part of his reality. It simply doesn’t exist for him.

Does this mean that respecting consensus, avoiding machloket and abiding by communal standards are all unimportant? Does the Torah want us all to be radical non-conformists? No, that is not the Torah’s vision of spiritual authenticity. The Torah wants us to come together as a collective –to ‘enter the city’ (in the terminology of the gemara in Berachot we started with) – and form a healthy society, permeated with benevolence and pursuit of the common good. The Torah wants us to follow the standards and expectations of our broader communities.

But bending to outside standards has to be done from a sense of inner conviction. It has to come from a realization that sometimes, G-dly morality (lit. yosher v’tzedek) dictates that we surrender our ego and participate with the collective. In other words, true spiritual authenticity means living in accordance with G-d’s desires, not one’s own idiosyncrasies. That is the path of the Torah and G-d’s supernal will.

We now understand why Yosef epitomizes immunity from the scourge of ayin ha’ra. Yosef remained faithful to his inner convictions, despite the external pressures and influences of life in Egypt. The outside challenges that he faced were abundant – family estrangement, slavery and imprisonment, a foreign land, a foreign culture, sexual temptation, extravagant wealth and power, among others. But none of these succeeded in leading Yosef astray. Even at the moment of his most intense trial – resisting the seductions of Potiphar’s wife – he was steadfast in his inner conviction. He declared “How could I do this great evil and sin to G-d?’ Yosef was an active participant in the outer world of Egypt, but Egypt did not touch his inner world or define who he was.

Food for Thought

Social Media’s Impact On Self-Esteem (Huffington Post): Social media has been linked to higher levels of loneliness, envy, anxiety, depression, narcissism and decreased social skills… The narratives we share and portray on social media are all positive and celebratory. It’s a hybridized digital version of “Keeping up with the Joneses”. For some… it appears everyone you know are in great relationships, taking 5-star vacations and living their dream life. However, what is shared across our social networks only broadcasts the positive aspects of our lives-the highlight reels… Research has also shown that Facebook users are becoming increasingly depressed from comparing themselves to their own profile. Meaning that if a person’s reality does not match the digital illusion they post on their profiles, emotionally, one may feel they are not living up to the “best” form of themselves.

Rav Soloveitchik (Shiurei HaRav – HaDarom 61):The matter of the ayin ha’ra is crystal clear to me. There are people whose lives are entirely dependent on the thoughts of others – whether they approve of them, forget about them, or praise them. At the moment they realize that others no longer approve of them or care about them – this immediately destroys their spiritual strength and self-confidence… People like this see themselves exclusively from the perspective of others, without recognizing their independent abilities. For people like this, the ayin ha’ra can be devastating. When others gaze upon them with an ayin ha’ra, meaning some degree of opposition or disapproval, their very humanity can be completely destroyed. This was the meaning of [Yosef’s immunity to ayin ha’ra.]… Yosef understood his spiritual strengths from his own recognition, not from the perspective of others. And without this recognition that he had of his own abilities, independent of the values of others, in this case his brothers, Yosef would never have amounted to anything, and his dreams would have immediately ceased.

Morning Berachos (Siddur):May it be Your will, Hashem, the G-d of my fathers, that you protect me on this day and every day… from ayin ha’ra.

Chida (Tziporen Shamir 172):One who speaks the praises of a person’s wisdom, wealth, children, and the like, is obligated to bless him that an ayin ha’ra should have no power over him.

Gemara Bava Metzia (107b):The Torah states: “And the Lord will take away from you all sickness” (Devarim 7:15). Rav interpreted this as a reference to ayin ha’ra. Rav went to a cemetery, and used an incantation to find out how those buried there had died. He reported that ninety-nine percent had died by the evil eye, and only one percent of natural causes.

Rav Dessler (Michtav M’Eliyahu):What exactly is this ayin ha’ra which is spoken about in different places? It is clear that if one causes his friend to become jealous of him, he is responsible and liable for the pain he caused him. And this could even cause him to ultimately lose his wealth. He, therefore, needs to do mitzvot to protect himself from difficulties. The mechanism of the ayin ha’ra is rooted in the spiritual reality of all people being connected to one another. Ayin ha’ra means that one is jealous of another, is bothered by his very being, and [therefore] wants only bad for him. Since all people’s lives are mutually dependent on one another, it’s possible that this will cause the [successful] person’s life to be limited, and thereby more susceptible to injury or damage…

When one is jealous of another and gazes upon him with an ayin ha’ra, this can cause damage. However, justice demands that this will only happen if the recipient of the ayin ha’ra had previously done something to make himself vulnerable to the ayin ha’ra. One possibility would be that he had caused the first person to be jealous of him in a very specific manner. It is clear and well-established that one who is not self-focused, is a giver and not a taker, in all of his matters, will not arouse any jealousy. This is why the descendants of Yosef are not susceptible to the ayin ha’ra – because Yosef was so selfless. Chazal are thereby teaching us that one who lives out of the public eye, and whose aspirations are completely separate from those of the street, will not arouse jealousy.

TorahOnTheGo.com: Some make spitting sounds “poo, poo, poo” to ward off an ayin ha’ra. While it may seem silly, this practice is sourced in Torah. Midrash Rabbah recounts a story of a woman who would attend Rabbi Meir’s Torah classes. Her husband was upset about this practice and warned her that he wouldn’t let her into the house until she spat in Rabbi Meir’s face. Understandably, she was hesitant to do so and stayed away from her home. Rabbi Meir discovered this, and to ease her discomfort acted as if an ayin ha’rahas seized him, and requested that she spit at him as a remedy. While the story is cited to emphasize the importance of promoting shalom bayis, it serves as one of several sources for the concept of spitting in order to ward off an ayin ha’ra.

Questions for Discussion

  1. Do you find Rav Kook’s explanation of ayin ha’ra convincing? Why or why not?
  2. What is ironic about Yosef being identified as of immune from ayin ha’ra? (Think about his brothers…)
  3. How can we use social media in a way that avoids (or minimizes) ayin ha’ra as understood by Rav Kook?
  4. To what extent is authenticity a value in Torah Judaism?
  5. When should a person should not follow the standards of his/her community?
  6. How did Yosef strengthen his resolve to the point that he was immune to ayin ha’ra as understood by Rav Kook?
  7. Is ayin ha’ra the same thing as ayin ra? See the second chapter of Pirkei Avot.
  8. Would Rav Kook agree that you can take off ayin ha’ra with molten lead and a lady in B’nei Brak?
  9. How do you think Rav Kook would understand the concept of ayin tovah?

Light in Exile – Parshat Vayigash

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Printable PDF available here.

Last year’s posting on Vayigash is available here.

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Rav Kook (Ein Ayah, Gemara Shabbat 89b)

Our father Ya’akov should have gone down to Egypt in iron chains [as the exile in Egypt was decreed by G-d, as told to Avraham]. However, Ya’akov’s merit caused him to descend without suffering, as it is written (Hoshea 11:4): “I drew them with cords of man, with cords of love, and I was to them like those who remove the yoke, and I fed them gently.” (Gemara Shabbat 84b)

The Egyptian exile is not simply another event in the history of the Jewish people. It established the spiritual template for all of Israel’s future exiles. But what is the purpose of galut? This question cannot be answered without properly understanding Ya’akov and his children’s descent into Egypt.

Our time in Egypt is primary associated with centuries of bitter enslavement. We commemorate our suffering each year at the Seder and are commanded to remember G-d’s deliverance on a daily basis. But not all of our time in Egypt was agonizing. From Parshat Vayigash and Parshat Vayechi, it is clear that Ya’akov and his extended family were quite comfortable. Yosef was the most respected and influential Israelite member of Egyptian society, but certainly not the only one. Ya’akov was especially admired, to the point that, according to the midrash, he insisted on not being buried in Egypt because he was worried that the Egyptians would deify him.[1]

Ya’akov’s years in Egypt were arguably the best of his life. He was no longer hiding from his brother’s murderous rage or dealing with the machinations of his scheming father-in-law. He was finally re-united with his beloved son Yosef. And he lived out his remaining years not only in physical comfort, but with the spiritual comfort of knowing that his entire family had followed in his path.

Of course, we know that this rosy picture did not last. After Ya’akov died, Egypt’s openness was soon replaced with whips, slavery, and infants being thrown into the Nile. Given the darkness of the post-Ya’akov period in Egypt, we are inclined to dismiss the good years as an illusion. Or more cynically, we conclude that we were never meant to thrive in Egypt in the first place.

However, this is not correct. Exile is more than just a punishment or Divinely inflicted suffering. We do not believe that our time in exile is devoid of spiritual value, merely a placeholder until the redemption and the return of Eretz Yisrael. No, Israel’s exile has spiritual purpose as well. It serves to spread belief in G-d and disseminate knowledge of His name throughout the world. G-d explains as much when he tells Moshe that he is sending him to Pharaoh “so that Egypt will know that I am G-d” (Shemot 7:5). And our Sages tell us in the Talmud (Pesachim 87b) that “The Holy One exiled Israel only so that converts will join them.” Many sources understand this as a reference not only to literal converts, but to any non-Jewish society that absorbs refined notions of ethics and Divinity by coming into contact with Jews.

The foundation of this positive conception of exile was laid by Ya’akov. Ya’akov was a towering spiritual personality, and his merits made it impossible for G-d to exile him to Egypt “in iron chains.” His descent to Egypt was Divinely orchestrated through Yosef’s rise to power, and he came down willingly, as if drawn by “cords of love.” In Hoshea’s words, as understood by our Sages in the Talmud, the “yoke” of slavery was still in G-d’s hands, but – for a time – it was removed from Ya’akov and his family.

Thus, our Sages teach us a richer and more profound understanding of exile and its spiritual purpose. Suffering, pogroms and persecution characterize much of Israel’s exile among the nations, but that is only part of the picture. Ya’akov teaches us that when we are worthy and emulate his example, galut is an opportunity to disseminate the light of G-d and uplift other nations. That goal is not thwarted when Jews are honored and respected in the lands of their exile. On the contrary, provided that we are completely dedicated to G-d and his Torah, then honor, respect, and prosperity magnify our ability to influence others.

“And many peoples shall go and say, “Come, let us go up to the Lord’s mount, to the house of the G-d of Ya’akov, and let Him teach us of His ways, and we will go in His paths,” for out of Zion shall the Torah come forth, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. That process doesn’t start once the redemption comes. It begins while Israel is still in exile.

Food for Thought

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (Covenant and Conversation, Balak 5775): Nowhere in Tanakh are we told that it will be the fate of Israel or Jews to be hated. To the contrary, the prophets foresaw that there would come a time when the nations would turn to Israel for inspiration. Isaiah envisaged a day on which “Many peoples will come and say, ‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the temple of the G-d of Jacob. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths.’ The law will go out from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem” (Isaiah 2:3). Zechariah foresaw that “In those days ten people from all languages and nations will take firm hold of one Jew by the hem of his robe and say, ‘Let us go with you, because we have heard that G-d is with you.’” (Zechariah 8:23). These are sufficient to cast doubt on the idea that antisemitism is eternal, incurable, woven into Jewish history and destiny.

Only in rabbinic literature do we find statements that seem to suggest that Israel is hated. Most famous is the statement of Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai “It is well known that Esau hates Jacob.” Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai was known for his distrust of the Romans, whom the rabbis identified with Esau/Edom. It was for this reason, says the Talmud, that he had to go into hiding for thirteen years. His view was not shared by his contemporaries.[2][And] those who quote this passage do so only partially and selectively. It refers to the moment at which Jacob and Esau met after their long estrangement. Jacob feared that Esau would try to kill him. After taking elaborate precautions and wrestling with an angel, the next morning he sees Esau. The verse then says: “Esau ran to meet them. He hugged [Jacob], and throwing himself on his shoulders, kissed him. They [both] wept” (Bereishit 33:4). Over the letters of the word “kissed” as it appears in a Sefer Torah, there are dots, signaling some special meaning. It was in this context that Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai said: “Even though it is well known that Esau hates Jacob, at that moment he was overcome with compassion and kissed him with a full heart.” In other words, precisely the text cited to show that antisemitism is inevitable, proves the opposite: that at the crucial encounter, Esau did not feel hate toward Jacob. They met, embraced and went their separate ways without ill-will.

There is, in short, nothing in Judaism to suggest that it is the fate of Jews to be hated. It is neither written into the texture of the universe nor encoded in the human genome. It is not the will of G-d. Only in moments of deep despair have Jews believed this…

Rav Shimson Raphael Hirsch (19 Letters): Only for a short time was Israel able to attain its ideal, the fulfillment of its mission in prosperity… [But] it became necessary to take away the abundance of earthly good, the wealth and the land, which had led it away from its mission; it was obliged to leave the happy soil which had seduced it from its allegiance to the Most High; nothing could be saved except the soul of its existence, the Torah; no other bond of unity should henceforth exist except “G-d and its mission,” which are indestructible, because they are spiritual. Through the annihilation of Israel’s state-life its mission did not cease, for that had been intended only as a means to an end. On the contrary, this destruction itself was part of its fate; so strangely commingled of divine and human elements, in exile and dispersion its mission was to be resumed in a different manner…. Destruction and misfortune are therefore no less instructive for Israel than prosperity. The dispersion opened a new, great, and wide-extended field for the fulfillment of its mission… The nation was scattered into the four quarters of the earth, unto all peoples and all zones, in order that… it might better fulfill its mission…

Questions for Discussion

  1. Rav Kook discusses some spiritual goals that Israel is able to accomplish in exile. Can you think of any others?
  2. Any of us could theoretically buy a plane ticket and be in Israel in less than 24 hours. What are our reasons for staying in exile? Are those good reasons?
  3. Is it inevitable that our experience in any country ends in suffering and anti-Semitism? Why or why not?
  4. What do you think is behind the recent outbursts of anti-Semitism in America? What would Rav Kook say?
  5. Do you agree with Rav Kook that Ya’akov’s years in Egypt were among the best of his life?
  6. What are some of the spiritual dangers and challenges of Jewish life in exile?

[1] Bereishit Rabbah 96:5 and Gemara Ketubot 111a, cited by Rashi on Bereishit 47:29.

[2] R. Jonathan Ziring has an excellent shiur on this at YUTorah.org, titled “Eisav Sonei et Yaakov? Some Contemporary Thoughts.” He demonstrates that even Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai’s position has been misinterpreted and taken to extremes that he did not intend.

In Foreign Fields – Parshat Vayeishev

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Printable PDF available here.

Rav Kook (Ein Ayah, Gemara Shabbat 49b) – As adapted by Rabbi Chanan Morrison

The Mishnah (Shabbat 7:2) enumerates 39 categories of melachah, activities which are forbidden on the Sabbath, such as planting, cooking, and building. What is the source for these categories of melachah? The Talmud in Shabbat 49b presents two possibilities. The first opinion is that 39 types of work were performed when constructing the Mishkan (Tabernacle) in the desert. The second opinion is that the word melachah appears 39 times in the Torah.

In fact, the word melachah appears 65 times, but the Sages were only counting verses that are connected to the Sabbath or the Tabernacle. As a result, the Sages sometimes disagreed which verses should be included in this count. One of the verses in question, from the reading of VaYeishev, speaks of Joseph’s labor for his Egyptian master, Potiphar: “And he came to the house to do his work (melachto)” (Gen. 39:11). But why should this verse be counted? Surely it has no connection to the Sabbath! To answer this question, we must first analyze the two views presented in the Talmud, connecting the 39 categories of activity either to building the Mishkan or to the word melachah in the Torah.

The Sabbath rest is in complete contrast to the weekdays filled with activity and work. The Sabbath belongs to the final goal of the universe, a time when all activity is finished. Work, by definition, indicates a state of incompleteness. Shabbat, on the other hand, is “mei’ein olam haba,” a taste of the future world, perfected and complete.

We live in an unfinished world of preparations and labor, a time of development and progress. The Tabernacle was a center of holiness within a spatial framework, subject to the limitations of our incomplete world. The Divine command to build the Tabernacle required that all the various categories of human activity be utilized in constructing it. The Jewish people needed to overcome and master the obstacles of mundane activity which hinder elevated life; then they could attain their ultimate objectives, living a life of holiness and closeness to G-d.

The second opinion quoted in the Talmud is based on a loftier perspective. The distinction between kodesh and chol, between the holy and the profane, only exists within our incomplete and divided reality. But when all of the forces and actions in the world are gathered together towards one elevated center, when all of life is directed to fulfill its true purpose, then the distinction between holy and profane disappears, and all aspects of life are bound together in the elevated union of kodesh kodashim, the Holy of Holies.

When we view the world through this higher prospective, adding the dimension of kodesh kodashim, then all activities become connected to the Sabbath ideal. All of life is bound to the sublime aim of absolute rest, without toil and preparations, only lofty joy and eternal truth. The view that sees in every mention of melachah in the Torah as relating to the Sabbath is not satisfied with ascribing meaning and significance only to that which is kodesh, only to those activities utilized to build the Mishkan. This is an inclusive vision that encompasses the holy and the profane, the natural and technological. Bound together, all activities are elevated with the holiness of the Sabbath day and the future realm of complete Sabbath. Not only is the holy center raised up, but also the branches — all forms of activity and melachah as recorded in the Torah.

In short, these two opinions deliberate our original question. The Talmudic discussion of what may be counted as the source for the melachot is, in fact, our question of how much of life truly ‘counts.’ Are only holy activities truly meaningful? Or is there eternal significance even in other aspects of life? According to the second, more inclusive view, the Sabbath encompasses all activities of Israel, both past and future, personal and national. However, the Jewish people in their long history have expended much time and energy in dispersed directions. Many Jews invested their talents to serve alien agendas. This is the essence of the Talmud’s doubt regarding Joseph’s labors in Egypt. Can individual activities performed in foreign lands for foreign goals still be counted as part of the accumulated service of the Jewish people over the millennia? Do they have eternal value?

On the one hand, it cannot be that the labors of a Jewish soul will not carry some residual imprint of the Jewish nation. Even if it was ‘planted’ on foreign soil, that which is suitable can be added, after removing the dregs, to the treasury of elevated Sabbath rest that Israel will bequest to itself and all of humanity. On the other hand, labor that was performed under foreign subjugation and enslavement is perhaps so far removed from the spirit of the Jewish people that it cannot be added to the national treasure of Israel.

Joseph, the Midrash states, represents the entire Jewish people (Tanchuma VaYigash 10). Even when laboring in Egypt, even as a slave under Potiphar and a prisoner in Pharaoh’s dungeon, his actions carried the mark of blessing and Divine success: “His master realized that G-d was with him and that G-d granted him success in all that he did…. G-d blessed the Egyptian because of Joseph” (39:3 and 5).

Nonetheless, we should not forget Potiphar’s position: Pharaoh’s chief executioner! The activities that Joseph performed under Potiphar’s direction were certainly alien to the spirit of Israel. Could the inner blessing of Joseph’s labors under such conditions be added to the treasury of activities connected to the perfected realm of Shabbat? This was the unresolved doubt of the Sages, whether to include the verse describing Joseph’s labors in a foreign land.

Food for Thought

Rabbi Yehonasan Gefen (Contemporary, Aish.com): Joseph did not hesitate to attribute all of his talents to G-d. This is a remarkable lesson in how to act in an alien environment, a test that all the generations of Galut (exile) had to face. One could try to hide his Judaism from the non-Jews, in an effort to hide the differences between them. Sadly, history has proven that this approach generally resulted in assimilation. By removing the barriers between Jews and non-Jews, one opens the way for the loss of his Jewish identity. However, Joseph’s confidence in asserting his beliefs proved to be one of the reasons why he and many in the future generations, were also able to withstand assimilation throughout the long Galut….

[Joseph] infused the Jewish people with the ability to follow in his footsteps and reject assimilation throughout the long exile. It is no coincidence that Parshat Mikeitz always falls on Chanukah – the lessons of the Portion relate to Chanukah. In this instance, the connection is clear; the Greek exile was the first in which the disease of assimilation posed a major threat to Jewish continuity. Throughout the previous exiles and suffering, the Jews maintained their sense of identity. However, the Greeks were the first nation to offer a genuinely enticing ideology. Sadly, a significant number of Jews failed to learn from Joseph, and gladly tried to remove all vestiges of their Judaism…However, the Hasmoneans and many Jews with them, resisted the attraction of the Greek way of life, and risked their lives to maintain their Jewish identity. Like Joseph’s strength in Egypt, the spiritual victory over the Greeks and the Egyptians can continue to give us guidance and inspiration to withstand the challenges of exile to this day.

Professor Aaron Koller (Esther in Ancient Jewish Thought, pg. 126): Indeed, perhaps Genesis meant to set up Joseph not as a hero, but as a warning, an example not to be followed. He may be the foil for the true history of the story of Israel in Egypt: Moses, who, although also a child of the system, does not work from within: but breaks free. Joseph left his home behind, naming his son Manasseh, it will be recalled, to thank G-d for helping him forget his ancestry. Moses has no need to leave anything behind in order to be fully Egyptian, and only when he leaves Egypt does he name his son “Gershom,” a reflection of his that he has been “a stranger in a strange land” (Exodus 2:22). While Joseph opted to embrace his new Egyptian identity wholeheartedly, finding rootedness in the culture in which he finds himself, Moses retains his sense of foreignness, never assimilating, but remaining a perennial outsider. Thus Joseph and Moses present two models of Jews in the court of the king of Egypt. A diaspora Jew can go the route of Joseph and rise to great heights within the system, but this may come at a great cost: the individual’s very identity may be lost in the process. Alternatively, he can go the way of Moses and reject the court, leaving the foreign land and taking the people along. Perhaps, the story of Joseph and Moses argues, while Joseph can save people’s lives, only Moses can bring redemption to the world.

Devarim Rabbah (2:8): When Moshe Rabbenu was refused entry the Land of Israel, he complained to G-d… [G-d] replied: “He who proudly admitted that this was his land shall be buried in it, but he who did not admit that this was his land shall not. Yosef didn’t deny his Hebrew origin when Potifar’s wife derided him as a “Hebrew brought here to make sport of us.” He even went further in describing himself to the chief butler as being “stolen from the land of the Hebrews.” As a result he was buried in his land… You, who did not acknowledge your land, cannot be buried there.” For the daughters of Yitro told their father that “an Egyptian man rescued us from the shepherds,” yet Moshe was silent [and made no effort to correct this misimpression and stress his Hebrew origins.]

Questions for Discussion

  1. What other biblical characters face challenges similar to Yosef – i.e. rising to a position of prominence of power in a non-Jewish empire, confronting struggles of identity, etc.?
  2. Do you agree or disagree with Rav Kook’s analysis? Why or why not?
  3. The State of Israel is currently home to millions of Jews, but a majority of the Jewish people still live in chutz l’aretz. Is that good, bad, or neutral? How and why?
  4. What has Torah Judaism has accomplished in America that it hasn’t done (or been able to done) in other countries/periods of history during galut?
  5. Rav Kook asks if there is “eternal value” to “individual activities performed in foreign lands for foreign goals.” Do recent anti-Semitic terror attacks in America affect how we should think about this issue? Why or why not?
  6. How do you think Yosef felt about working for Potifar and on behalf of the Egyptian empire?

Might and Right – Parshat Vayishlach

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Printable PDF available here.

Rav Kook (Otzrot HaRe’iyah, II:507)

Translation taken from Rav Chanan Morrison’s “Sapphire from the Land of Israel.”

 “Therefore, the children of Israel may not eat the displaced tendon, which is on the socket of the hip, until this day, for he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip, in the hip sinew.” (Bereishit 32:33)

What is the significance of this prohibition? Do we refrain from eating the sciatic nerve only to commemorate a mysterious wrestling match that took place thousands of years ago?

At first glance, the prohibition of gid hanasheh appears to be yet another limitation that the Torah places on eating meat. While the Torah permits the consumption of meat, it instituted a number of restrictions, such as which animals may be eaten, how they are to be slaughtered, how their blood should be handled, and so on. These regulations indicate that we may not deal with animals as we wish, without regard for their welfare. On the contrary, we have moral obligations and responsibilities towards animals.

The prohibition of gid hanasheh, however, is meant to project a broader ethical aspiration, beyond the issue of how we should treat animals. According to tradition, the stranger who fought Jacob that night was the guardian angel of Esau. Jacob’s opponent symbolized the lifestyle of the hunter, a man of violence and conquest whose prophetic blessing was that he would live by his sword. This nighttime struggle was not a private experience, a personal event in Jacob’s life. It was a vision for all times. It epitomizes our constant battle against belligerent foes who claim the right to subjugate others by virtue of their physical strength and military prowess.

This struggle appeared to Jacob in its most unadorned fashion, without any pretense of gallantry and shining swords to mask its visceral violence and naked aggression. For the truth is that all wars, no matter how ‘civilized,’ are nothing more than a brutal struggle to subdue and conquer. If there is one area in which the human race is continually advancing, it is the art of war. Methods and tools of combat constantly grow ever more sophisticated. We have progressed from primitive spears and swords to guns and canons, and onwards to modern warfare with armored tanks, fighter jets, and nuclear bombs. And yet the essence of war remains the same: one-on-one combat between two opponents. All warfare boils down to the violent struggle to overcome and subdue, where victory is achieved by felling one’s adversary.

By not eating the gid hanasheh, we demonstrate our revulsion at unprovoked aggression and violence. Just as Jacob fought Esau’s angel that night, we also oppose the cynical belief in “the right of might.” There is no legal or moral right to terrorize and subjugate those who are weaker.

While nationalism provides many benefits, in its extreme form it can descend into imperialism and fascism. Nationalism is a lofty emotion in its natural, pristine state. But if it is not directed towards the highest goal — the aspiration of universal happiness and perfection — it will end up crossing the boundaries of morality.”

We may need a strong army to defend ourselves, and we may need to slaughter animals to provide for our physical needs. But by refraining from eating the gid hanasheh, we demonstrate that our goal is not to subjugate others, whether man or beast. Even as we eat the meat of animals, we avoid the sciatic nerve that allows the body to stand upright. This is a moral sensitivity which should govern every form of interpersonal interaction, enabling all to benefit from a Divine-spirited and harmonious existence.

Food for Thought

Sefer haChinuch (Mitzvah 3): This commandment hints that although Israel will suffer many troubles in the exile by the hands of… the descendants of Esav, they should trust that they will not perish, and that their descendants and name will stand firm forever, and that their redeemer will come and redeem them from their oppressor. And in continually remembering this idea through the commandment that serves as a reminder, they will stand firm in their faith and righteousness forever. And this hint stems from the fact that that the angel who fought with Yaakov our forefather – who according to tradition (Bereshit Rabba) was the guardian angel of Esav – wished to eliminate Yaakov from the world, he and his descendants; but he could not prevail, but pained him by injuring his thigh. Likewise, Esav’s seed anguishes the seed of Yaakov; but in the end, [the latter] will be saved from them.

Aish.Com: The thigh represents Jacob’s progeny. But the injury does not represent physical oppression but spiritual sickness. Jacob’s limp alluded to the fact that although Jacob himself was spiritually perfect and incorruptible, some of his descendants would succumb to the wiles of the forces of Esau (see Sforno, Malbim, Ktav Sofer).

In a more literal sense, Jacob was injured in the thigh and made to limp as Divine punishment. He had been making plans to run away from Esau (as implied by 32:8-9) – although G-d had earlier promised to protect him (28:15). (Rashbam to 32:29.)

Zohar with Commentary of the Vilna Gaon: The gid hanasheh is a euphemism for the reproductive organ. This is the place in the body that is most prone to falling to the evil inclination and is where the Satan, the angel of Esav, has the strongest hold. Satan was the angel who wrestled with Yaakov. He found no place in Yaakovs’s body which he could overcome, because all of Yaakov’s limbs and sinews were pure due to his tremendous righteousness and observance of the mitzvot. The only place the angel could touch him was where he had at least a modicum of control. This was the area of the brit milah. In that area Yaakov had some weakness because he had married two sisters

Rabbi Alan Haber (Israel, Contemporary): This explanation [of the Sefer haChinuch] always seemed strange to me. If the mitzva is meant to encourage, then why choose something which reminds us that Jacob’s enemy managed to wound him, rather than a symbol of his eventual triumph? And also, how is a prohibition meant to help us remember something? If the gid hanasheh somehow reminds us of Jacob’s victory, then perhaps the mitzva should not be to abstain from it, but rather to specifically eat it as a reminder, just as we do with matza on Passover.

[Perhaps we can suggest as follows.] At times, just like our forefather Jacob, we will be wounded. But we will survive – not only in spite of the injury but in some sense because of it. The wound is excruciatingly painful, it is crippling, and for a time it seems as though we can barely move ahead…This is when the gid hanasheh comes and reminds us, first of all, that in the perspective of history, these setbacks – however painful they may be – are temporary (in the very next chapter, we read that Jacob’s injury was fully cured; see Rashi on 36:18). And as a mitzvah that is observed passively through the mode of shev v’al ta’aseh (sit and do nothing), it reminds us that this is also how Jacob achieved his victory… Although he fought long and hard, Jacob didn’t manage to defeat his enemy. All he was able to achieve was a stalemate – a bitter night-long struggle that wore both sides down, with no winner. In that situation, he wasn’t able to actually do anything; just to absorb the blows, and persevere. But the gid hanasheh teaches us that sometimes, when there is no action to be taken, shev v’al ta’aseh is enough. Sometimes, the key to victory is just staying where you are and refusing to be knocked down, and to keep on going without paying too much attention to the pain. After the long night of exile, the morning eventually comes. And when it does, the enemy melts away and asks for a release, which he receives only after issuing a blessing. Until then, we have to continue the struggle.

Rabbi Gideon Rothstein: At the end of Hilchot Melachim, he [Rambam] offers a mini-history of how mitzvot came into the world. Yaacov gave us gid hanasheh as well as the night-time prayer. I find it striking that both of Yaacov’s contributions focus on night, the time of uncertainty. Night is, we might note, a time when we have many fewer mitzvot that during the day, almost as if the Torah assumed we would just retreat to our homes for its duration, returning to active life with the next day. Pushing forward through such times of night, including exile, seems a theme that plays a repeat role in Yaacov’s life… Chazal see Yaacov as having worried his whole life as to whether he would be sent to Gehinnom, to post-mortem punishment for his sins; Yaacov spends twenty years struggling with Lavan and fearing Esav, finally is forced to confront his brother and is deathly uncertain as to how that will go; and, in summarizing his life to Paroh sees it as a short and unhappy life. Yaacov, in other words, lives a life where he cannot see whether he is succeeding, and spends his life uncertain as to how it will look at the end.

[This is what we commemorate through gid hanasheh.] The emphasis, though, is not our ultimate survival so much as stressing building the fortitude to follow uncertain paths with the faith and confidence that G-d will make it work out as best possible. The mitzvah of gid hanasheh, to me, then, is about watching our Father Yaacov’s life struggles and learn from them… the road may be long, lonely, and doubt-filled, but as long as we struggle conscientiously, guided by our faith and the dictates it sets out for us, we can know that we will find success and reward from our Father in Heaven.

Questions for Discussion

  1. How is gid hanasheh unique as compared to other mitzvot in the Torah? As compared to other kashrut related mitzvot?
  2. Which of the above explanations for gid hanasheh do you find most compelling? Why?
  3. Aside from gid hanasheh(as explained by Rav Kook), where else in the parshah does the Torah deal with ethical challenges presented by warfare?
  4. Commemorating the Exodus involves positive acts, like eating matzah. If gid hanasheh is meant to help us commemorate something, why is it a prohibition? Shouldn’t G-d have commanded us to eat the gid hanasheh?