Printable PDF available here. Previous piece on this parshah is available here.

Rav Kook (Based on Shemonah Kevatzim, 1:497)

“And G-d spoke to Moses, saying… “If a woman conceives and gives birth to a boy…on the eighth day, the flesh of his foreskin shall be circumcised.” (Vayikra 12:1-3)

The classical explanation for the mitzvah of milah[1] is that it tempers sexual desire. This explanation encompasses within it broad and fundamental principles regarding man’s place in the world and his role as a servant of G-d. We must note that the term “milah” is not fully accurate, as the correct term is brit milah – literally the “covenant of circumcision.” This mitzvah was given to Avraham as the foundation of a unique Divine covenant, part of which was G-d’s promise to him “to be a G-d to you and your descendants.”[2] By engraving the sign of this covenant into our flesh, we express that this covenant is not an peripheral, superficial part of our existence, but intrinsic to and inseparable from our very being. As Iyov (19:26) declared, מבשרי אחזה אלוק – “From my flesh, I perceive G-d.”

However, brit milah is far more than a symbolic declaration. One who understands the message of this mitzvah, who defines his essential identify by his relationship with the Divine, will exert himself to unify all of his drives and desires. He will use them to further the enlightened and righteous goals established by the Creator of those very drives and desires, who implanted them in His creations for the ultimate goodness of the world that He created. Such an individual will experience a sense of unity in his own inner world, and as a result, he will acutely perceive the inner Divine unity of the world around him.

However, not everyone reaches this lofty level. For many people, their various drives and desires pull them in different directions. Their inner world is ruptured and unharmonious, and they cannot fathom the notion of directing their desires toward a higher, overarching purpose. They gaze at the world through the lenses of their fractured and divided inner world, and thus conclude that the world itself lacks any unity or greater purpose.

Sexual desire – and the various branches of physical, imaginative, and spiritual yearnings that are encompassed within it – is the most basic and foundational of all human desires. And even this stormy, turbulent drive is one that an upright person can encompass with a spirit of nobility (lit. רוח אצילי) and harness, alongside other layers of his spiritual and physical persona, to supernal and elevated ethical purposes.

The opposite is also true. Through an obsession with the impure, unrefined dimensions of sexual desire, humanity can fall – and has fallen – into the lowest levels of iniquity. In this lowly state, one’s ability to perceive any ethical, idealistic or purposeful dimension of reality is blocked and clogged up (lit. אטום). In this sad and pathological state, humanity is savagely pessimistic and blinded to the Divine goodness that permeates existence. The notion that procreation, that bringing children into this sad and fallen world, could serve any higher ideal is not merely foreign, but seen as irrational and senseless. If existence itself is not good, how can it be ideal to bring (through procreation) additional creations into such a miserable state of being? Humanity’s sexual desires, thus estranged from any higher purpose, are left unchecked and uninhibited, resulting in devastating and brutal consequences.

But this pessimistic vision is a false one. Our Torah declares that “G-d saw all that He had created, and behold, it was exceedingly good.”[3] This perspective extends to all levels of reality, including sexual desire. This is the deeper lesson of brit milah, the removal of the foreskin, which embodies the false vision of unrestrained sexual desire. The excision of the foreskin in physical reality, through the mitzvah of brit milah, is meant to reverberate in a corresponding excision of the impure spiritual reality of unrestrained sexuality.

Tempering sexual desire through brit milah is thus neither a sign of asceticism nor an intrinsic value of its own. It is rather a Divinely prescribed corrective, so that those party to this covenant can broaden the noble dimensions of life and allow G-dly light to shine forth not only in the highest heavens, but even the ‘lowly’ fleshly levels of reality.

“From my flesh, I perceive G-d….”

[1] This explanation appears in Moreh Nevuchim of the Rambam.

[2] Bereishit 17:7.

[3] Bereishit 1:31.

Food For Thought

Rav Soloveitchik (And From There You Shall Seek, pg. 115-116): Neither Greek philosophy nor Christianity grasped the moral and metaphysical aspects of sexual intercourse. Only the Halakhah gives this act a solid basis in religious life; the commandment to “be fruitful and multiply” (Gen. 1:28) is the first one in the Torah. Marital life is pure and blessed. The life of a bachelor, even if he has never sinned, runs contrary to the View of the Halakhah. One who is not married has no joy, no blessing, and no Torah (Yevamot 62b). The Holy One, Blessed Be He, Himself engages in matchmaking (Gen. Rabbah 68:3—4). The joy of the bride and groom is very important, and anyone who participates in it receives a great reward. A husband is required to have relations with his wife at regular intervals, according to his physical ability and the conditions of his work… The Halakhah’s laws of sexual intercourse, which are based on psychological principles and sexual hygiene, are marvelous for their clear-headedness and “modernity.” How much concern, along with delicate and intimate understanding, is found in these laws! The same iron-clad Halakhah that forbids sexual intercourse when the wife is menstruating and establishes preventive measures around this restriction, also imposes an absolute duty upon man to have intercourse with his wife periodically out of love and affection…

Man worships his Creator with his body, his eating, and his sexual activity, and this worship is preferable to worship through prayer. Look and see how much is written in the Torah and the Talmud about the laws of forbidden sexual relations and forbidden foods, and how little is written about the laws of prayer. Many people who gorge themselves on food like a predatory animal in its lair and defile their sexual love life are able to pray to G-d on bent knee, but not many can eat in the presence of G-d and sanctify themselves while under attack by the sexual drive. Wherever there is a possibility of sexual activity, the Torah enjoins sanctity.

Maimonides calls his compilation of the laws of forbidden sexual relations and forbidden foods by the name “The Book of Holiness.” Sexual relations reflect the image of the human being as differentiating himself from the beasts and (while still in his body) soaring to the heights. Socratic/Platonic metaphysics, which has had such a great influence on Christianity, insists that the spirit rises upward while the body goes downward, that man is crowned with a garland of reason and has the power to soar up to the world of the Logos by devoting himself to a spiritual and intellectual calling that does not involve his real animal existence. Judaism declares [in contrast] that man earns eternal life by transforming his purposeless, animalistic, temporal existence into the holy life of the man of G-d. The former speaks about the continuing existence of the general [collective] soul, while the latter insists on individual immortality and the reawakening of the dead. The body will emerge from its grave in all its glory. Physiological drives are sanctified through the moral commandments, which are not intended to subdue this world, but rather to place upon it the crown of royalty. The Halakhah allows the creature of nature to break through to pellucid radiant expanses and new skies. It is not only the spirit but also the beast in man that worships the Creator. The Shechinah hovers over the abyss of lust and man’s animalistic, instinctual essence, and sanctifies them.

Circumcision (Neil Menussi): Western civilization, it seems, has always been trapped in the movement of an intense emotional pendulum. It travels back and forth between a worship of material nature, on the one hand, and a longing for a purely spiritual world, on the other. On the one end, Nature is depicted as a kind of incarnated divinity, a perfect, harmonious, self-balancing whole. Our purpose, according to this image, is merely to incorporate ourselves into the natural order. On the opposite end of the pendulum, Nature is depicted as an evil and threatening element, man’s purpose being to subjugate it to the rule of the rational mind, and eventually release himself from its hold and join the world of pure souls. The history of the Occident is largely a chronicle of the periodic motion, back and forth, between these two poles.

The pendulum movement is clearly evident in the history of sexuality. The West seems to be veering sharply between hedonist worldviews that sanctify the sexual impulse, and ascetic worldviews that demand a complete abnegation of sex. It was against the Greek aristocracy’s hedonism that Plato and his followers arose, claiming that the soul is trapped in the body “as in a tomb” (to this day, physically unconsummated love is named for Plato); Rome countered with its uninhibited, orgiastic lifestyle; the barbarian tribes, after the ecstasy of destroying the empire, suddenly accepted Christianity and were hurled headlong into the opposite extreme, the Catholic torment of self-flagellation; when the Catholic church sank into corruption and debauchery, the even more puritan Protestantism emerged; and when Christianity altogether lost its vitality, there arose from within her, with equal and opposite force, modern secularism, which introduced the sexual revolution of the 20th century. The West is characterized neither by total hedonism nor total asceticism; totality itself is the true leitmotif. Between one revolution and the next, in spite of all changes of shade, it appears that – inasmuch as the corporeal and the spiritual are concerned – the West is unable to break free of its either-or paradigm. Hither and thither swings the pendulum; the somber smile that it draws in the air forever remains.

Questions for Discussion

1. Rav Kook finds a basis for his insights on brit milah in a verse in Iyov – “From my flesh, I perceive G-d.” What else might this verse mean?
2. Why is brit milah such an important mitzvah?
3. Do Jews perform brit milah because of the commandment to Avraham or because of the verse in this week’s parshah cited at the top of the previous page?
4. In light of Rav Kook’s insights, why is the effort by radical secularists to abolish brit milah misguided?
5. Rav Kook writes about “Sexual desire – and the various branches of physical, imaginative, and spiritual yearnings that are encompassed within it…” What do you think he means by other yearnings being encompassed with it?

Printable PDF available here.

Translation (Orot,Orot haTechiya ):[1]

Whatever encompasses existence in all of its levels – by exerting a spiritual, ethical and holy influence – requires utmost purity. This is why we find the greatest emphasis on purity in the context of the Mikdash and the sacrificial order. These areas implicate the most lofty, sublime intellect but also the lower realms of blood and flesh, imagination and feeling. For these lower rungs, connected to the overall totality by a living bond, an exacting purity is required. They cannot be co-opted outright into Divine service.

Conversely, when the service of the Jewish people is more rarified and abstract, the details of practical purity are less necessary. After all, when the intellect is the driving force, Godly consciousness creates a fount of spiritual purity that raises up the lower realms as well. As Yirmiyahu[2]proclaims “‘Is not my word as fire?’ declares the Lord.” From here our Sages[3]derive that just as fire does not become impure, so too words of Torah cannot become impure, and so a בעל קרי is permitted to engage in Torah study.

The relationship between Divine service of the intellect and the lower realms of emotion, imagination and physicality is not static. We know that each individual has different spiritual tendencies, but the same is true of different generations as well. Different times in Jewish history have varying emphases. Latter-day Hasidism[4]turned to feeling and imagination more than to reason and action, and for this reason, stepped up the demand for bodily purity.[5]

Much earlier in Jewish history, when the Jewish people returned to Eretz Yisrael and rebuilt the Second Temple, we find that Ezra enacted a decree prohibiting a בעל קרי from engaging in Torah study until after immersion in a mikveh.[6][This decree was subsequently repealed and is no longer binding.] The timing of this decree was not happenstance. In the nascent period of the Second Temple, Ezra sought to to connect the Jewish people to the realm of the sacred and the Temple, and so purity was stressed.

But the Second Temple was destroyed. Exile impoverished the emotive and imaginative abilities, together with life’s strength and aesthetic peace. What remains is the influence of the intellect, with its abstract spiritual tendencies, combined with action. The place of the intermediate spiritual rungs – feeling and bodily proclivity – remained empty. As one of our piyutim laments,“The holy city, its sites and delights are scorned and destroyed. Nothing remains but this Torah.”[7]

For much of exile, precise purity no longer was obligatory and remained an idealistic longing, a concept of sanctity and piety reserved for individuals. Then modern Hasidism arrived and sought to implant it in the masses. Understandably there is a healthy kernel here that requires expansion and development. It is especially worthy of expansion at the time of the national renascence in the Land of Israel – in conjunction with the expanded immersion in spirituality, motivated by a healthy spiritual thirst to make healthy the whole nation and the root of its soul with all of its living quality, bodily purity being one of its strengths. Indeed, the Torah itself indicates that purity is of the greatest importance in matters of the collective:

When you go forth as a camp against your enemies, keep yourself from every evil thing. If there be among you a man that is not pure by reason of a nocturnal occurrence, he shall depart from the camp, he shall not enter within the camp. For the Lord your God goes about in the midst of your camp, to save you and to place your enemy before you, therefore your camp must be holy, that He see no unseemly thing in you and retreat from you. (Devarim 23:10)

Wherever the collective strength of Israel burgeons, there must immediately join with it a reinforcement of bodily and emotive purity. All these prepare a basis for a living, organic state of being, which encompasses the entire renascence, from the beginning of the highest abstraction to the end of the jubilation of life and its thunderous power. “I will bestow beauty in the Land of the Living [i.e. Eretz Yisrael].”[8]

[1]Largely taken from Bezalel Naor’s translation of Orot (Maggid Publishers, 2015).

[2]23:29.

[3]Gemara Berachot, 22a.

[4]Bezalel Naor notes that Rav Kook’s term for the Chasidic movement founded by the Ba‘al Shem Tov is meant to distinguish it from the movement of the medieval German pietists (most notably R. Judah haChasid of Regensburg), referred to as Chasidei Ashkenaz.

[5]Bezalel Naor notes the emphasis placed by the Chasidic movement on daily immersion in a mikvah. While this is definitely part of what Rav Kook has in mind, I think he is addressing Chasidut’s more general emphasis on conducting all physical activities with a spirit of holiness, and finding godliness in every aspect of being – and not just in Torah study.

[6]This decree was subsequently repealed and is no longer binding. However, there are halachic sources which indicate that continued observance of the decree is meritorious.

[7]העיר הקודש והמחוזות, היו לחרפה ולבזות. וכל מחמדיה טבועות וגנוזות, ואין שיור רק התורה הזאת.

[8]Yechezkel 26:20.

Commentary

This piece from Rav Kook is fascinating on its own terms, but even more so for the underlying premise. Rav Kook understands that avodat Hashem is not static and unchanging. Different periods of history can place an emphasis on different modalities or types of service. In Eretz Yisrael, more of an emphasis is placed on feeling and imagination, and hence the need for purity is greater. Outside of Eretz Yisrael, Judaism is primarily focused on the intellect. Presumably Rav Kook means that Torah study takes on an outsize importance in exile. But it seems like Rav Kook is making a much broader point – in exile, Judaism is impoverished and lacks the healthy, organic vitality that comes with collective living in Eretz Yisrael. It is only in Eretz Yisrael that one’s “emotive and imaginative abilities” can flourish and actualize themselves in every area of life.

While one can certainly disagree with this conclusion, I think it’s undeniable that the balance of the spiritual creativity and vitality in today’s Torah world comes out of Eretz Yisrael. Dynamic individuals and communities in Eretz Yisrael are creating (or at least striving to create) Jewish literature, music and even dance – and not merely literature, music and dance that happens to be created by Jews. They are developing new forms of Torah literature and innovative methods of education. I humbly submit that Jewish communities of Chutz L’Aretzstand much to gain by immersing themselves in the refreshing waters of Torat Eretz Yisraelto the greatest extent they are able. It seems like we spend far too much energy on consolidating our gains, building higher fences or arguing about whether something is ‘Orthodox’ or not. That is not to say those endeavors are not valuable, only that our efforts need to be properly calibrated. There is a wealth of spiritual vitality in Eretz Yisrael, only a plane flight or a few clicks away, and I think we’re missing out.

Also fascinating is the way Rav Kook conceptualizes of Chasidut as a meta-historic phenomenon, i.e. a retreat of the Jewish people from abstract intellectual matters and a renewed emphasis on emotion, imagination and bodily purity. Rav Kook asserts that this tendency is necessary and appropriate for the return of the Jewish People to Eretz Yisrael. If you read between the lines, it seems like Rav Kook is saying that Chasidut and Zionism both draw from the same root, which is a fascinating and provocative notion. At the very least, it can’t be a coincidence that these two movements sprung to life at concurrent periods in Jewish history….

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

1. Rav Kook understands that different periods of history can place an emphasis on different modalities or types of avodat Hashem. What do you think is the dominant modality of our generation?
2. How do we determine what is the dominant form of avodat Hashem in any particular generation? Is the notion of change or evolution in this area a dangerous one, since it could lead to tampering with fundamentals of Jewish law, belief or custom?
3. Rav Kook writes that in exile, “what remains [of Judaism] is the influence of the intellect, with its abstract spiritual tendencies, combined with action.” What exactly do you think this means? How does being outside of Eretz Yisrael and without a Mikdash shift the emphasis away from emotion, imagination and bodily purity?
4. Do you agree with my contention that Jewish life in Eretz Yisrael is more vibrant? Why or why not?

–

Printable PDF available here.

The beginning of Parshat Tazria teaches that a woman who has just given birth must bring a korban– specifically, an olah and a sin-offering. This concept has puzzled many of the great Torah commentators,[1] especially the requirement of a sin-offering. What has this new mother done wrong? Why is bringing new life into the world anything other than a pure, unrequited source of joy?

A second question relates to a teaching of our Sages in Gemara Shabbat (51a) and Yoma (9a). Sefer Shmuel describes the sons of Eli (the Kohen Gadol) and their service in the Mishkan at Shiloh. Eli’s sons abused their position by forcibly taking their sacrificial portions. Their worst sin, according to the reports reaching the ears of their father, was that “they slept with the women who gathered at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting”[2] The Gemara cautions against taking this verse literally,[3] and explains that they failed to promptly offer the birth-offerings. This indirectly prevented the women from returning home, because they didn’t trust the kohanim and would remain in Shiloh until they personally confirmed that their offerings were complete. Since the inattentiveness of Eli’s sons caused these women to be unnecessarily separated from their husbands, the verse refers to their irresponsible behavior as if they had slept with them. Why was it specifically this offering that fell into neglect? Our Sages also teach that this sorry affair caused the eventual destruction of the Mishkan in Shiloh. But what about the birth-offerings gives them such gravitas?

The answer to these questions takes us to the very root of Divine service, which is inseparably connected to the sanctity of life. Although we usually associate the sanctity of life with the prohibition against murder,[4] it is more than just a theoretical basis for a ‘do not.’ The sanctity of life is an imperative. Life, in all of its aspects, in its pinnacles and its crises, must draw upon its supernal Source, the Creator of all life. And even though life also includes times of trouble and distress, an unceasing Divine holiness reverberates within. No matter how deep the darkness, reaching out to G-d will restore light and natural joy, splendor and rejuvenation, nobility and grace.

The birth of a child is a wonderful occasion, bringing new life and joy to the family. But the birthing experience itself is a challenging one, involving great pain and suffering.[5] Granted, these travails are not in the forefront of the new mother’s mind, and her consciousness is suffused with joy over the new life she has brought into the world. But deep down, the difficult impressions and feelings that result from her suffering remain. Indeed, the pain of childbirth is not just a biological phenomenon, but a spiritual one, rooted in the ancient sin of Chavah and the beginnings of humanity. The birth-offering allows the new mother to elevate the birthing experience. She rectifies the shortcomings caused by the rebellious tendencies of the human heart, and finds her soul uplifted in feelings of love for the greatness of the Creator of all life, who Himself overflows with love for all of his creations.

Thus, the birth-offerings, more than any other korban, express the inseparable connection between the Temple service and our moral intuition (lit.מוסר האנושי הטהור) that life, in all of its fulness, is intrinsically good. But Eli’s children lost sight of this. There was no room in their hearts for the concerns of the masses, nor for their emotions and their struggles. Life and the moral intuitions that reside in every pure heart – these they regarded with contempt. In their mistaken arrogance, Eli’s children regarded the Temple service as an end of itself, and viewed their priesthood as an entitlement to parade over the people. This is why our Sages teach that they specifically neglected the birth-offerings. The birth-offerings epitomize the harmony between the Temple service and sanctification of life. They encapsulate the foundation of the entire avodah – that life, harmony and peace in family life are all desired by G-d.

But Eli’s children had lost sight of this. Thus, our Sages teach that the neglect of the birth-offerings resulted in the destruction of the Mishkan in Shiloh. The absence of ethical sensitivity, the lack of integrity and compassion, the artificial divide between life and morality and the Temple service – all of this meant that the Mishkan was permeated with moral decay and no longer served its purpose. The result was not a punishment, but simply an acknowledgement by G-d that it suffered from a corruption that only destruction could correct.

Food For Thought [6]

“Judaism is in love with life, for it knows that life is G-d’s great question to mankind; and the way a man lives, what he does with his life, the meaning he is able to implant in it—is man’s reply. Actual life is the partner to the spirit; without the one the other is meaningless. The teachings of the Torah can therefore reveal their real sense only when there is a concrete reality to which they are applied. On the one hand we have Torah, trying to give shape to the raw material of life which is so reluctant and evasive; on the other, each bit of Torah-shaped life: In social institutions, in economic arrangements, in the relations between man and his neighbors, in the street and in the market as well as in the places of worship —living Torah, acting on the very intentions of Sinai. For just as Torah shapes life, so does Torah-shaped life, in its turn, direct and thus unfold Torah, It is as if the Torah were using its own experiences, to set the: course of its development. And in each new phase, it strives again to fashion our lives, which, once refashioned, will again inform the meaning of the teaching as it has been previously revealed. And so on to eternity: Torah leading life, and Torah-led life unfolding Torah…

Ever wonder where Eli’s children got their mindset from? Consider the following: [7]

• Eli’s response to the evil reports about his children (Shmuel Aleph, 2:24-25): “No, my sons, for the rumor which I hear the Lord’s people spreading, is not good.If man will sin to man, the judge will judge him. If, however, he will sin against G-d, who will intercede in the judgment in his behalf?” Does that sound right to you? Is that what we believe? (See Mishnah Yoma 8:7, and Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 506:1).
• Eli’s reaction to the terrible events decreed as G-d’s punishment (Shmuel Aleph 4:18): “And the one who had reported the news, answered and said, ‘Israel fled before the Philistines, and also there was a great slaughter among the people, and also your two sons perished, Chofni and Pinchas and the Ark of G-d was taken.’ And it was, when he mentioned the Ark of G-d, that he (Eli) fell off the chair backward through the gate opening, and his neck broke and he died, because the man was old and weighty and he had judged Israel for forty years.” Two of his children just died and Jewish soldiers have been massacred – but what causes him to topple over in shock?
• “And his daughter-in-law, Phinehas’ wife, was with child, ready to give birth, and she heard the news concerning the taking of the Ark of G-d, and that her father-in-law and her husband had died. And she knelt and gave birth, for her pains had suddenly come upon her…. And she called the child Ichabod (lit. אי–כבוד), saying, “Glory (lit. כבוד) has been exiled from Israel, because the Ark of G-d has been taken, and because of her father-in-law and her husband.”(Shmuel Aleph 4:19, 21) Read her words closely – what does she seem more concerned about, the loss of the Ark or the death of her father-in-law and husband?

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

1. Rav Kook asserts that the sanctity of life is a fundamental value in Judaism. Are there any mitzvot or practices we have that you think express this idea?
2. אחד מי יודעis one of the piyutim we read at the Pesach seder. Pull out your Haggadah and see if you can pick out one stanza that doesn’t seem to fit, but which Rav Kook’s insights may explain.
3. What change can you make in your own day-to-day existence to be more aware of the sanctity of life?
4. The sanctity of life is one ethical intuition, but there are many others. How do we know when we can rely on our ethical intuitions? Can’t they lead us astray?

[1]Rabbi Jonathan Sacks summarizes the most well-known answers in his Covenant & Conversation for this week. In no particular order: (i) the offerings recall the sin of Eve and her punishment (Rabbeinu Bachye, Kli Yakar); (ii) during the anguish of labor, a woman may have thought or expressed ideas that were sinful or that she now regrets (such as vowing not to have future relations with her husband) (Ibn Ezra); (iii) the sacrifices are a kind of “ransom” or relief offering for having survived the dangers of childbirth, as well as a form of prayer for a full recovery (Ramban); (iv) the woman has been intensely focused on the physical processes accompanying childbirth. She needs both time and the bringing of an offering to rededicate her thoughts to G-d and matters of the spirit (Sforno); the burnt offering is like an olat re’iya, an offering brought when appearing at the Temple on festivals, following the injunction, “Do not appear before Me empty- handed” (Ex. 23:15). The woman celebrates her ability to appear before G-d at the Temple (Meshech Chochmah).

[2]Shmuel Aleph, Perek 2:22.

[3]However, see Chiddushei haRitva in Yoma, who notes that some Tannaim may actually interpret their sin literally.

[4]“One who spills another’s blood, by others his blood shall be shed, because G-d created man in his image.” (Bereishit 9:5) In contemporary society, the concept of ‘sanctity of life’ is often invoked regarding abortion.

[5]Rav Moshe Lichtenstein notes– “According to Rabbinic thinking throughout the ages, the attitude to a pregnant woman, and even more so to a woman giving birth, is that it is a situation in which the woman’s life is in danger (חולה שיש בו סכנה). In the wake of advances in medical devices and technology, we have come to forget that the woman is in mortal danger. In the past, many women died during childbirth. We know this already from the matriarch Rachel, who died in childbirth after bearing her second son, Binyamin. That which is so self-evident to us today is actually a series of great miracles and kindnesses that we must remember and gratefully acknowledge each and every moment.”

[6]From Rav Eliezer Berkowitz, cited in the “Faith and Freedom Passover Haggadah,” pg. 47-78.

[7]All of these insights are taken from R. Benny Lau’s fantastic and highly-recommended book שמואל – בקדוש חזיתיך.