Rav Kook (Based on Ein Ayah, Gemara Shabbat 22a)

And if any Israelite or any stranger who resides among them hunts down a wild animal or a bird that may be eaten, he shall pour out its blood and cover it with earth. (Vayikra 17:13)

 “He shall spill its blood and cover it with dust”. This means that with what one spills, he shall cover. [Just as a person spills the blood of a slaughtered animal with his hand, so too, he is obligated to cover the blood with this hand and not cover it with his foot.] The reason is so that mitzvot will not be contemptible to him. (Gemara Shabbat 22a)

There is a mitzvah to cover the blood of a shechted bird or non-domesticated animal. Various explanations have been offered for this mitzvah, known as kisui ha’dam. Some explain that the mitzvah is intended to distance us from the prohibited consumption of blood. Others explain it as a protective measure against ancient pagan practices involving blood.

But these explanations seem simplistic. Can it be that this G-dly mitzvah is nothing more than a guardrail against lowly paganism or consumption of blood, both practices that most of humanity has evolved beyond? These kind of flimsy, contingent explanations cannot possibly exhaust the depths of this – or any – G-dly mitzvah. The mitzvah must be relevant to every stage of humanity’s development.

We should note that although humanity has made great strides in its ethical and moral development, there are still many rungs to climb. We still have not reached the highest levels of holiness and elevation that are our destiny. Granted, we cannot speak in detail about the moral code or ideals that will govern at the end of history, in the Messianic era and subsequent to the revival of the dead (lit. תחיית המתים). These matters are simply beyond our ability to comprehend. But we can point to aspects of humanity’s current state of being – things that we take for granted as normal – and identify them as flawed practices that will be discarded when humanity eventually rises to a perfected state. The spilling of animal blood is one such practice. It cannot possibly be reconciled with man’s ultimate state of ethical and spiritual perfection. It is not a mere coincidence that according to the Torah, humanity was originally prohibited to consume meat and only the vegetable world was permitted.

Although we will eventually return to this lofty state, it is improper for humanity to leap impulsively to levels of extreme piety and forgo the consumption of meat. That would be neither suitable nor sustainable for our current state of being. Such inappropriate piety would breach the boundaries of what the Torah permits, and its end will be catastrophic failure. Much work remains to be done in the interpersonal and social domains of existence before man can rightfully extend a loving hand to the denizens of the animal world. How can we, in good conscience, divert our spiritual energies and resources to the animal kingdom as long as our fellow human beings are afflicted with poverty, disease, war, persecution and suffering?

This places humanity’s moral development into a difficult paradox. On one hand, consumption of meat is permitted to us in our current state, and it is both rash and impudent for us to leap to Messianic levels of piety by forgoing meat. But on the other hand, we cannot become so habituated to our imperfect state that we become struck in it, that we forget that there are more rungs to climb, that we stop becoming and content ourselves with being.

The mitzvah of kisui ha’dam is G-d’s divinely legislated means of navigating this paradox. The animal world is permitted to man for his needs, and he is allowed to spill animal blood. But G-d demands that this be done with hesitation, with a certain sense of shame. Man may spill blood, but he must cover it up. He thus reminds himself that in the light of the ultimate and most perfect truth, spilling animal blood is cause for contrition and a measure of shame.

This also explains why the mitzvah of kisui ha’dam is limited to birds and non-domesticated animals, a question that has bothered many commentators. Based on our analysis, we can explain that slaughtering birds and wild animals is particularly shameful because they are generally self-sufficient and do not rely on people to provide their needs. By contrast, humans provide for and take care of domesticated animals, and their slaughter thus has a semblance of a fair exchange. In this way, the Divine lawgiver ensures a proper balance between humanity’s current moral state and the ultimate heights to which it is destined to ascend.

For this reason, our Sages teach that kisui ha’dam should not be performed with one’s feet as it would be disrespectful to the mitzvah (lit. ביזוי מצוה). The feet are the lowest part of the body, and using them for this mitzvah would express that it is oriented towards the lowest stages of humanity’s moral development (like weaning us from consuming blood or paganism). For this mitzvah is Divinely engineered to bring about nothing less than the highest and brightest future, and it should thus be performed with the hands. The hands can be raised higher than any part of the body, higher than even the head, which is the seat of the intellect. The message is that kisui ha’dam connects us to a level of spiritual reality that is beyond our current comprehension, to levels of holiness that await us at the end of history.

In this regard, kisui ha’dam serves as a paradigm for all of the Torah’s mitzvot. No mitzvah is consigned to a distant past or to the inferior stages of humanity’s development. Every mitzvah advances humanity and history to its ultimate conclusion, to the light of G-d and His splendor, to the day when G-d will pour out his spirit upon all flesh and remove the spirit of impurity for the earth. On that day, animals will become human-like in their spiritual capabilities and humanity will attain levels that we cannot even comprehend. Humanity will revert to its Edenic diet and animal slaughter for food will be a vestige of the past.

It’s good to be back!

Printable PDF available here.

Rav Kook (Based on Midot haRe’iah, Ahavah 1, 3 and 5)

You shall love your fellow as yourself, I am the Lord. (Vayikra 19:18)

Love for all of G-d’s creations must precede love for every member of humanity, and only after that can one ascend to love of Israel (“ahavat Yisrael”). One must understand that ahavat Yisrael does not stand in contradiction to love of humanity, which is encompassed and subsumed within it. For Israel’s Divinely-appointed destiny is to rectify and repair all of existence, and thus true ahavat Yisrael requires a universal love. Thus, we must strive to advance the physical and spiritual welfare of all nations. Without an inner love of humanity that pervades its entire being, Israel will never advance towards its ultimate calling – “Give praise to G-d, call out in His name, make His greatness known amongst all nations” (Tehillim 105:1).

Our love for all of humanity also draws on the constant outpouring of Divine light that rests upon every created being. As King David declared in Psalms (33:5), “G-d’s kindness fills the earth.” That is, everything exists through G-d’s kindness and contributes to His splendor. To despise, to hate means to deny the Divine kindness that sustains the object of one’s hatred.

We have hatred only for the wickedness and spiritual pollution from which the world has not yet been cleansed. Anywhere in our tradition that we find expressions of hatred and contempt for the nations of the world, we must know that such sentiments are directed only at the points wickedness therein. But sparks of life, of light and holiness, have always been present in the tzelem Elokim possessed by all of humanity, by every nation in accordance with its measure. All of this, Israel knows, with deep confidence, purity of faith and holy resolve.

Food for Thought

Tanya (Likutei Amarim, Chapter 32): Even with regard to those who are close to him, and whom he has rebuked, yet they had not repented of their sins, in which case he is enjoined to hate them, there still remains the duty to love them also, and both are right: hatred, because of the wickedness in them; and love on account of the aspect of the hidden good in them, which is the Divine spark in them, which animates their Divine soul. He should also awaken pity in his heart for her [the Divine soul], for she is held captive, as it were, in the evil of the sitra achra that triumphs over her in wicked people. Compassion destroys hatred and awakens love, as is known from the [interpretation of the] text, “To Jacob who redeemed Abraham.”

A Story About Rav Kook (from R. Aryeh Levine): I recall the early days, after 1905, when G-d granted me the privilege to ascend to the Holy Land; and I arrived at Jaffa. There I first merited meeting our great master, Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook (of blessed memory), who greeted me with good cheer, as was his sacred custom to receive all people. We chatted together on various Torah topics. After an early minchah, he went out, as was his custom, to stroll a bit in the fields and collect his thoughts. I accompanied him. During the walk, I plucked a twig or a flower. Our great master was taken aback when he saw this. He told me gently: “Believe me — in all my days, I have been careful never to pluck a blade of grass or flower needlessly, when it had the ability to grow or blossom… Every sprout and leaf of grass says something, conveys some meaning. Every stone whispers its inner message in its silence. Every creature utters its song [of praise for the Creator].” Those words, spoken from a pure and holy heart, engraved themselves deeply on my heart. From then on, I began to feel a strong sense of compassion for all things.

Samson Raphael Hirsch (Chorev, Pg. 53): I, the Lord, the personification of love, am Father of all beings around you, have called them all, like you, to life and well-being. If you love Me, and because you Love me, love My children; rejoice in their well-being, see in each My work, My child, in his welfare the prospering of My work and My child, in his woe the decay of My work, the suffering of My child. Love therefore the master in the work, the father in the child… How do you raise yourself above the stone and the plant and the animal? Is it not through devoting yourself of your own free will to the welfare of the world around you? And this is just what love effects. Your whole activity belongs to G-d’s world… Carry love in your heart; it is this which makes you a man and an Israelite. This love in you, if it is genuine, expresses itself in deeds with which, to the best of your ability, you promote the progress of the world around you to that state of welfare in which your love requires that you should desire to behold it.

Lubavitcher Rebbe: When there is love of G‑d but not love of Torah and love of Israel, this means that the love of G‑d is also lacking. On the other hand, when there is love of a fellow Jew, this will eventually bring also a love of Torah and a love of G‑d… So if you see a person who has a love of G‑d but lacks a love of Torah and a love of his fellow, you must tell him that his love of G‑d is incomplete. And if you see a person who has only a love for his fellow, you must strive to bring him to a love of Torah and a love of G‑d — that his love toward his fellows should not only be expressed in providing bread for the hungry and water for the thirsty, but also to bring them close to Torah and to G‑d.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (Covenant and Conversation 5778): The opening chapter of Kedoshim contains two of the most powerful of all commands: to love your neighbour and to love the stranger. “Love your neighbour as yourself: I am the Lord” goes the first. “When a stranger comes to live in your land, do not mistreat him,” goes the second, and continues, “Treat the stranger the way you treat your native-born. Love him as yourself, for you were strangers in Egypt. I am the Lord your G-d. The first is often called the “golden rule” and held to be universal to all cultures. This is a mistake. The golden rule is different. In its positive formulation it states, “Act toward others as you would wish them to act toward you,” or in its negative formulation, given by Hillel, “What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbour.” These rules are not about love. They are about justice, or more precisely, what evolutionary psychologists call reciprocal altruism. The Torah does not say, “Be nice or kind to your neighbour, because you would wish him to be nice or kind to you.” It says, “Love your neighbour.” That is something different and far stronger.

The second command is more radical still. Most people in most societies in most ages have feared, hated and often harmed the stranger. There is a word for this: xenophobia. How often have you heard the opposite word: xenophilia? My guess is, never. People don’t usually love strangers. That is why, almost always when the Torah states this command – which it does, according to the sages, 36 times – it adds an explanation: “because you were strangers in Egypt.” I know of no other nation that was born as a nation in slavery and exile. We know what it feels like to be a vulnerable minority. That is why love of the stranger is so central to Judaism and so marginal to most other systems of ethics. But here too, the Torah does not use the word “justice.” There is a command of justice toward strangers, but that is a different law: “You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him” (Ex. 22:20). Here the Torah speaks not of justice but of love. These two commands define Judaism as a religion of love – not just of G-d (“with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your might”), but of humanity also. That was and is a world-changing idea.

Samson Raphael Hirsch (Chorev, Pg. 25, 159): “To love” means to feel one’s own being only through and in the being of another. “To love G-d,” therefore, means to feel that one’s own existence and activity are rendered possible and obtain value and significance only through G-d and in G-d. You exist and are something only to strive to reach G-d—that is, to perform His will. To love G-d only through G-d; and therefore in all that you are and do, you have and to love His Torah is the same thing; for to love G-d means nothing until you begin to love His Torah.

Questions for Discussion

1. See Rav Hirsch in Food For Thought, above. Is he expressing the exact same point as Rav Kook? If not, how are their views different?
2. What does it mean to have a tzelem Elokim?
3. How does Rav Kook address the problem of loving all of humanity in a world still filled with evil and wickedness?
4. Rav Kook writes that no person or nation can never lose their tzelem Elokim. Do you agree? Why or why not?
5. What are different ways to express ahavat Yisrael? To express love for humanity?
6. Does our generation have an easier or harder time than our ancestors in cultivating ahavat Yisrael? In cultivating love for humanity? Why or why not?
7. Does the term “fellow” in “Love your fellow as yourself” include non-Jews as well? Or only Jews?

(Ethiopian Jews being airlifted to Israel in 1991, in Operation Solomon)

Printable PDF available here.

Translation (Ein Ayah, Gemara Shabbat 67a):

You shall not copy the practices of the land of Egypt where you dwelt, or of the land of Canaan to which I am taking you; nor shall you follow their ways (וּבְחֻקֹּתֵיהֶ֖ם לֹ֥א תֵלֵֽכוּ). (Vayikra 18:3)

Abaye and Rava taught – the prohibition against following non-Jewish practices does not apply to anything which promotes healing (lit. ‘יש בו משום רפואה’).

The division of humanity into nations is not an arbitrary convention. On the contrary, it reflects deep underlying differences in the lifestyle, customs and manner of thinking of each nation. If we analyze these differences, we can divide them into two categories.

Some result from the unique inclinations and spiritual proclivities of each nation. Every nation embraces a way of living and thinking that is consistent with its spirit. It is not surprising, then, that what one nation finds suited to its nature and aspirations may be entirely repugnant to others. Terrible destruction can result when one nation attempts to integrate aspects of another nation’s identity, or has those aspects imposed on it by force.[1]Thus, it is appropriate that each nation preserve the integrity of its unique character and way of life, and not allow them to become excessively[2]diluted by outside influences.

This is an imperative for all nations, but none more so than Israel. Our national spirit emanates from the holy desire to serve as a receptacle for the Divine light in all of our affairs. This spirit encompasses our perception of G-d and the world, the individual and the collective. The Israelite spirit is broad and all-encompassing in a way that the spirit of other nations is not. And therefore, it is generally the case that practices of other cultures detract from our own lofty national aspirations.

However, not every aspect of a nation’s culture is necessarily rooted in its unique and essential spirit. Often, a nation merits (for whatever reason) to express matters that are relevant to all humanity. Granted, these deeper truths are expressed in a form (or ‘garments’) suited to that particular nation, but they concern matters that transcend national boundaries. These matters belong to the collective heritage of all mankind. A nation can be a custodian of these universal aspects of culture, but never an owner. And these aspects of culture are meant to be shared and adopted by other nations. No nation – not even Israel – needs to be concerned that adopting these practices will dilute or degrade its own unique culture.

It follows that the Jewish people can be greatly enriched by the spiritual and practical treasures gathered by other nations – even from the most morally degenerate nations, whose essence and very existence seem irrevocably opposed to us. The Jewish people are not merely capable of seeking out these matters of universal goodness, but distinctly suited for it. When universal aspects of culture are integrated into Israel, they receive the unique stamp of our holy national character.

Thus, our Sages teach that “Anything which promotes healing is not included in the prohibition against darchei ha-Emori.”

Food For Thought

Rav Dessler writes as follows in Michtav Mei’Eliyahu (Vol. 4): “Any holy influence that is to be found outside of the Land of Israel is channeled through the heavenly power (lit. שר) in charge of each nation.[3]In practical terms, this involves the traits of the particular nation and country where Jews are living. The distinct approach to serving Hashem in a given land also accords with the national characteristic in that place… The Russians have strong emotions; chassidut is the approach to serving Hashem that developed there. The Lithuanians have more subdued feelings and calculating minds; the approach to serving Hashem that developed there is the profound study of Torah and mussar. The Germans are most particular about discipline and order; there, an approach of meticulous preservation of tradition and customs took shape. Every center in the Diaspora harnessed the traits and endowments of the nation among whom they dwelt, for the pursuit of holiness.”[4]

Rabbi Berel Wein (Patterns in Jewish History, Ch. 2) addresses the same two categories as Rav Kook, but in a less mystical vein. He formulates a distinction between ‘acculturation’ (which is acceptable) and ‘assimilation’ (which is not): “Thus, from the beginnings of our becoming a people, the Jews were always affected by the processes of acculturation and assimilation. Acculturation was necessary in order to allow Jewish life to exist and even flourish in an exile dominated by non-Jewish inimical powers. Acculturation occurs regarding dress, language, secular studies, systems and methods of education, food, mannerisms and societal mores. Assimilation however reflects a deep desire to be less Jewish and to blend in completely with the surrounding environment and society. It reflects the willingness to give up Jewish particularism in favor of being a part of the general whole. Assimilation doomed and dooms Jews to eventual demographic extinction. And this is a constant pattern in Jewish history – the struggle against assimilation and disappearance while somehow Judaizing and accepting and dealing with acculturation…. Acculturation is apparently unavoidable since Jews are so small in number compared to the rest of the world’s population. But acculturation need not necessarily lead to assimilation. However, not recognizing that acculturation always occurs and pretending that nothing has changed in Jewish life and society for the past thousands of years leaves us vulnerable to an acculturation that will lead to assimilation.”

Rav Kook’s thoughts on culture are complex, and a positive stance toward ‘national spirit’ is not always present in his writings. He was particularly troubled by the aftermath of the first World War.^[5]In Shemonah Kevatzim (5:267), he writes as follows: “[T]he blood-spilling nations, wanton earthly kings “make the earth shudder” (Isaiah 14:16), “the land cannot be cleansed of the bloodshed within it, but by the blood of him that shed it” (Bamidbar 35:33) and the atonement must come, a general undoing of all the cultured nations of today, with all their lies and deceit, all their evil contamination and serpentine poison. The whole culture reveling in ringing lies must vanish from the world, and in its place, a kingdom of sacred beings arising. The light of Israel will appear to establish a world of new peoples, nations “who will not murmur in vain” (Tehillim 2:1)… The spiritual and practical fabric that in its contemporary form could not stop, with all its beautiful wisdom, the great, great bloodshed, and the destruction of the world in this dreadful way, has shown itself to be putrid at the root… And so all the contemporary cultures will utterly be destroyed, and on their embers will be established a universal edifice in truth and the knowledge of God.”

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

1. Rav Kook seems to suggest that the Torah prohibition against following un-Jewish practices (lit. חוקות עכו׳ם) is not based on the premise that non-Jewish culture is intrinsically bad or impure. On the contrary, it reflects the notion that every nation – not just the Jewish people – should preserve its unique character and way of life. Are you convinced? Why or why not?
2. In light of Rav Kook’s insights into nationhood and culture, what do you think he would say about the notion of ‘cultural appropriation’ that is the bête noire of so-called ‘social justice warriors’?
3. How can we tell whether a practice from another culture is of universal relevance or not?
4. Can we apply any lessons from Rav Kook to the political crisis over immigration in Europe and the United States? (It would be facile and superficial to say that Rav Kook ‘proves’ one side right or wrong.[6]The question is whether the piece above highlights elements of truth – or untruth – in the debate.)
5. What are some practices of the surrounding non-Jewish culture that you or your community have adopted?
6. Rav Kook writes that the Jewish people put a uniquely holy stamp on universal practices adopted from other cultures. What do you think he means by this?
7. Do you agree with Rav Kook that certain differences in culture reflect deep, intrinsic differences between nations? Why or why not?
8. Is Rav Kook’s analysis really suitable for the contemporary world, in which culture is mass-produced as a means of making money? Do Lady Gaga, video games and reality TV really reflect a “unique character and way of life” or a “national spirit?”

[1]This last part about culture being imposed by force is my own addition.

[2]Note – Rav Kook is clear that cultural boundaries between nations aren’t meant to be static and impermeable. The problem is not influences of other cultures per se, only in excess.

[3]The notion that each nation has a שרappears frequently in the midrash, but is already mentioned in Perakim 10 and 11 of Daniel.

[4]In light of Rav Dessler and Rav Kook, it seems like kibutz galiyot is more than just a physical process. It represents the Jewish people coalescing and sharing with each other all of the unique tendencies and strengths that they gathered in exile.

[5]WWI created a crisis of confidence in the non-Jewish world as well. Many argue that Western Civilization still has not recovered.

[6]Unfortunately, this type of discourse is quite popular in the Orthodox community. For a discussion of this issue, see Judah Bellin’s 2013 article Tower of Babble: A review of Shmuly Yanklowitz’s ‘Jewish Ethics’. An excerpt: “Judaism certainly impels us to employ our moral sensibilities and to pursue justice. Yanklowitz’s understanding of this mandate, however, is shallow. By presuming to harmonize the Torah’s mission with the Democratic Party’s domestic agenda, Yanklowitz makes a mockery of the rigorous inquiry that sustains the Jewish tradition. Indeed, Judaism survives only if we take it seriously, if we struggle with Jewish texts, not merely quote them blithely. It is our duty to use these sources to rethink our assumptions, not simply to deploy them to confirm our pre-existing prejudices. Judaism has always recognized that the Torah’s blunt moral formulations provide scant guidance for real-world implementation. Our inability to appreciate God’s direct message means that the law cannot reside in heaven, and that it must be subject to the imperfections within the mortals who inherit it. We cannot fully translate divine will into practice, but we continue trying, for it is these strenuous attempts that give life to our ancient tradition. To Yanklowitz we have no such shortcomings. All we need be is radical.” (Note – although this example is a criticism of the left, many on Orthodoxy’s right are also guilty of similarly simplistic and shallow political discourse.)