God's Servant Says Master to No Man

Rabbi Shalom Carmy

Stories of trouble overcome always recollect how bad it was, compared with how it is today. Yet often a second theme joins in, whose interest and importance may well overshadow the first. We ponder how much of what is good in our lives would not have come about were it not for the very evil the redemption from which we are engaged in celebrating. Such is the case, writes Rav Kook [Olas Re'iyah 2:260-261], with the story of our emergence from slavery. Despite all the evils of bondage, of which we are glad to be rid, the experience of being enslaved to Pharaoh was essential education for a nation, and for individuals, destined to be avdei HaShem: Surely slavery caused several evils, several corrupt traits, to say nothing of the evils and troubles that afflicted its victims at the time. But the virtue of submission and subjugation to He who is worthy of subjugation, to become a genuine eved HaShem, the ability to annul self-will and inclination in order to accept the yoke of Heaven, which distinguishes Jews, and through which they have brought, and are destined to, bring much good to themselves and to the world, this capacity is acquired through the state of slavery and subjugation." In other words, Rav Kook maintains that certain features of the slave mentality can be harnessed for the good. Provided that the unhealthy characteristics of slavery are extirpated, experience of the temporal slave role prepares us for our calling as servants of God.

At first blush, this startling idea contradicts a comment by R. Meir Simha [Meshekh Hokhma, B'haaloskha 213]. According to R. Meir Simha, the only people whom the Torah denominates as avdi ("My servant") are those who never called any man their master, or themselves his servant. Even Aharon and Yehoshua, who referred to Moshe as adoni, my master, were denied this designation. If one can only be acknowledged as God's eved by not calling anyone else master, even Moshe Rabbenu, how can being Pharaoh's slave facilitate the transition to being God's? Ought we not to say the opposite--that having played the slave to any human being is an almost insurmountable impediment to avodas HaShem?

If Rav Kook's position is consistent with R. Meir Simha's insight, we must conclude that the slave's submission is very different from the recognition of another as one's master. Rav Kook's formulation carefully defines the virtue of subjugation as the power to overcome self-will and inclination. That discipline of spirit, the capacity to negate the human being's natural attitude of self-will, can indeed be transferred from the mundane realm to that of divine worship. This is because the gesture of self-overcoming is pertains to the self who is enslaved, not to the person who is the enslaver. By contrast, whoever designates another as his, or her, master, is focussing on the master. And once having ascribed mastery over oneself to Pharaoh (or even to an object more admirable than Pharaoh), it becomes virtually impossible to realize the stance of avdus vis-a-vis the Ribbono shel Olam. You and I, though most of us are a mere two generations from the extermination camps, can imagine little of the reality of physical bondage and suffering. Nor does our daily experience consistently reinforce Rav Kook's positive lesson of submission, to strip our worldly ambitions and egoististic preferences of the ultimate value given to them in our society. Perhaps because modern people like us have difficulty learning how to subjugate ourselves to the One who is worthy of our unqualified commitment, we are easily tempted to ascribe mastery to many counterfeit powers--to consumer paraphernalia; to intellectual conformism and pseudo-intellectual trendiness; to the approval and recognition of others, and so on--masters less menacing than old crocodile Pharaoh, but so much more enslaving.

Pesach, of course, is not an end but the beginning. We reminisce about the first physical redemption that opens the doors, if only we will it, for our spiritual yetsias Mitsrayim. Calling upon our memories of liberation and our memories of affliction, we set forth, in this as in past generations, for Sinai, where our capacity for submission will find its appropriate object, and our acceptance of Mastery will come to rest upon its only habitation.

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Note: Thanks to members of the Rav Kook class of 1997.

The Temple of Love

Yehuda Sarna

Shir Hashirim and Koheles are m'tamin regarding impurity of hands. . . Rabbi Yossi says: Koheles is m'tamei, but there is an argument concerning Shir HaShirim. . . Rabbi Akiva says: G-d forbid! No man from Israel ever argued about Shir Hashirim, for the entire world was not worthy on the day that Shir Hashirim was given; for all the kesuvim are kodesh (holy), but Shir Hashirim is kodesh kodashim (Holy of Holies). (Yaddayim 3:4)

Rabbi Akiva's position in this Mishnah deserves interpretation. What precisely is he referring to when he labels Shir Hashirim "kodesh kodashim" and the rest of the kesuvim "kodesh"? What exactly is the difference between Shir Hashirim and the rest of the kesuvim? One could easily understand Rabbi Akiva's comparison as a quantitative one; as holy the rest of kesuvim may be, Shir Hashirim is a step up. The quality of the holiness may be the same, but the "amount" of holiness contained in Shir Hashirim exceeds that in the other seforim. Alternatively, one may interpret Rabbi Akiva's distinction in a more qualitative manner. Perhaps it is not that Shir Hashirim is higher up on the hill than the rest of kesuvim, but that it is on a different mountain entirely. Along these lines, the terms kodesh and kodesh kodashim may not be merely adjectives but qualitatively distinct titles, comparable to the two distinct areas in the Beis Hamikdash. The two types of worship performed in each of the two structures may be seen to differ fundamentally from each other thus deepening our understanding of Shir Hashirim.

Kodesh and Kodesh Kodashim

The Kodesh is aptly characterized by the keilim it contains. The "utensils" in the kodesh fit that title well; each utensil has a utility in the sense that it is used to fulfil a specific function. The Shulchan holds the showbread , the Menorah provides light, and the Mizbeach Hazahav serves as the platform on which the ktores and the blood of various korbanos are offered. In short, one does not direct his worship to the keilim, but through them.

In contrast, the "utensil" in the kodesh kodashim, the Aron, can hardly bear this nickname. The Aron is not used in the Avodah, rather it represents the second party in the relationship, the Divine Presence. The worship in the kodesh kodashim is not done through any activity, but is merely a meeting of the two parties. With his entrance into the small chamber, the kohen gadol leaves the realm of active worship and enters the realm of direct relationship. There is no need for any performances; the very encounter of the two sides suffices. The mode of avodah in the kodesh kodashim is not in doing, but in being.

Perhaps this distinction between the kodesh and kodesh kodashim fits equally well regarding Shir Hashirim and the rest of kesuvim. Many seforim in Tanach either introduce mitzvos or encourage their keeping, but no other sefer concentrates solely on defining the actual relationship between Hashem and Knesses Yisrael. On the simplest level, Shir Hashirim is a series of (related) poems that express the love between two parties. While other seforim may contain the details of how Hashem is to be worshipped, Shir Hashirim boldly articulates the relationship that should pervade the worship and even supersede it. Shir Hashirim represents an essential meeting between the two parties, "essential" both in the sense of "necessary" and in the sense that the encounter is not a superficial one but involves the core of each side. The abstractness of the sefer is what suffuses it with its holiness.

Furthermore, Shir Hashirim does not merely define the relationship of love that is to exist between Knesses Yisrael and Hashem, but provides an experience of it. On the simplest level, the poems in Shir Hashirim describe a current emotion and are not concerned with the historical past. It is precisely this independence from history and focus on the present which allow us to understand a alternate version of Rabbi Akiva's statement. According to the Midrash quoted in Rashi on the first pasuk in Shir Hashirim, Rabbi Akiva distinguished not between Shir Hashirim and other kesuvim, but between it and other Shirim, all other songs. The Sifsei Chachamim on this Rashi understands Shirim as a reference to all the other songs in Tanach, such as Shiras Hayam and Shiras Devorah. In contrast to all the other songs, Shir Hashirim is not a reaction to a given historical event; it stands independent of historical detail because it is not an act of thanks, but the definition of a current, resonant relationship. Thus, although other shirim may describe emotions felt towards Hashem, none consider them in their absolute form, independent of history. The current, charged, intense encounter divorced from both history and mitzvos is what sets Shir Hashirim apart from all other songs and scriptures.

Why on Pesach?

The connection between Shir Hashirim and Pesach may thus be understood in several different ways. First, it may be that Pesach, which purposely falls out in the spring, signifies the beginning of the relationship between Hashem and Bnei Yisrael as a people. At this point in history, before the Torah and mitzvos have been given, it is important to establish the overall framework within which avodas Hashem is to be performed. Torah and mitzvos are not to be viewed only as important in themselves, but also in that they contribute to and cultivate the loving relationship which should exist between an individual and his Maker. Additionally, mitzvos should not be "accomplished" dryly and lifelessly, but with a vigorous energy of passion and devotion. Before the details are laid out, the overarching framework must be set forth.

An alternate approach lies not in considering Pesach qua the beginning of a longer process, but rather the special significance contained within Pesach itself. Ge'ulas Mitzrayim was characterised in several ways as having taken place without Bnei Yisrael truly being ready for it. In Yechezkel 16:7, the Navi allegorically tells how when Hashem came to Bnei Yisrael in Egypt, Knesses Yisrael was "bare and naked." This metaphor, according to Chazal, points to the lack of ma'asim tovim and overall moral degeneration of Bnei Yisrael in Egypt. The Navi further states that Hashem saved Bnei Yisrael because hineh iteych eis doddim--the ambience of the setting conduced an act of love. Although there were no mitzvos, the ungrounded and abstract connection between Hashem and Bnei Yisrael vibrated and evoked the redemption.

A further expression of this idea is found in Shir Hashirim Rabbah which adds another dimension to the picture. The attention of the Midrash is drawn to Shir Hashirim 2:8 which states kol dodi hineh zeh ba, medaleg al heharim mekapetz al hagevaos ("Hark! My Beloved! Behold, he is coming, skipping over mountains and vaulting over hills"). Several opinions are brought down in the Midrash as to what exactly Hashem "skipped over" in redeeming Bnei Yisrael. The first two positions follow a similar theme to Yechezkel 16. The first one explains that Bnei Yisrael were concerned that their lack of ma'asim tovim would prevent the geulah. Hashem's response was that He would overlook this because "He desires them to be redeemed." The second, yet similar approach presents Bnei Yisrael as worrying specifically about their involvement in idol-worship. A final opinion, however, focuses not on the moral condition of Bnei Yisrael, but the temporal one. Hashem promised Avraham that He would take Bnei Yisrael out only after four hundred years, while at the time of yetziyas mitzrayim only two hundred and ten had expired. Hashem, however, "skipped over" calculations and dates in His love for His People. Whatever the nuance, the general message is clear: the redemption was an act of love.

The love expressed in yetziyas mitzrayim, however, was by no means uni-directional. Bnei Yisrael too acted out of a "newlywed love" as they followed Hashem into the midbar (Yirmiyahu 2:2). Pesach thus stands as a paradigm of the mutual love relationship between Hashem and Knesses Yisrael. The reading of Shir Hashirim in commemoration (although not in reaction to) this historic event not only befits this sefer, but also highlights the significance of this mutual relationship as a central theme to the holiday of Pesach. In many ways, it is so easy to get lost in all the halachos of Pesach--k'zayis of matzah, biur chametz, and so on--that the message of Shir Hashirim may escape without us fully appreciating it. Although the mitzvos hachag are important as a means in relating to Hashem, we must not forget to experience the personal encounter as described in Shir Hashirim, an encounter which colourfully justifies the comparison to the kodesh kodashim.

Seven Days in a Holiday

Jonathan Snowbell

In order to understand the different Chagim of the year, it is essential to note their unique characteristics in order to know with what we are dealing. In the case of Chag HaMatzos it is important to contrast it to Chag HaSukkos ("Pesach" in the Torah refers to the fourteenth day of Nissan in the afternoon when the Korban Pesach was offered, which itself is a quasi-holiday [see Vayikra 23:5-6] and is reflected in the Halachah even today with prohibitions of doing melacha that are prohibited to do on Chol Hamo'ed). At first glance they seem like two one week holidays distinguished by their focus on different mitzvos relating to the different times of the year in which the holidays fall. If we look more carefully at the verses regarding the two holidays and their internal halachos, we will see that we are dealing with two very different holidays.

The Pasuk declares that the fifteenth day of the first month is a festive day for G-d and then is followed by a statement that for seven days matzos should be eaten. In contrast when describing Chag HaSukkos in the same chapter, the Torah states that on the fifteenth day of the seventh month there is a seven day holiday for G-d (Vayikra 23:34). The Torah appears to be saying that Chag HaMatzos is a one-day holiday on the fifteenth day of the month, and there exists in conjunction with it a seven-day period of Matzos, whereas Chag HaSukkos is a seven-day integrated holiday. The first day of Chag HaSukkos has no more significance than the other days except for the fact that it is the first day.

This pattern is reflected in the Halachos of the central mitzvah of each of the holidays. The mitzvah of eating matzah is only an obligation on the first night of the holiday. Subsequently, eating matzah is not obligatory, and while according to a small group of authorities, one who eats matzos the rest of the holiday fulfills a mitzvah, according to most authorities it is no better than eating an apple during that same time period. Even if one decides to have a full-fledged meal during this time period, it does not have to include matzah. In contrast the central mitzvah of Chag Hasukkos, living in the Sukkah, is an obligatory one for all seven days. Any time one eats a meal, or sleeps, it must be done in the Sukkah. It is true that on the first night one is obligated to eat a meal, and therefore it must be in the Sukkah, but if one eats all the other days, there is a full-fledged obligation to eat in the Sukkah. The brachah made before eating in the Sukkah is the same one recited the first night.

With regard to the korbanos of the Chag, we find a similar phenomenon. Each day of Chag HaMatzos the same korban is sacrificed. Because the last seven days are merely the spill over of the first, central day, it is not necessary to change the korban. However, on Sukkos each day is important in itself and not a spill over of the first day, each day has a different korban to reflect its individual importance and uniqueness. Similarly, on Chag HaMatzos we say a complete Hallel only the first day of the Chag, while the rest of the days we recite only the half Hallel. On Chag HaSukkos we say a complete Hallel everyday. Half Hallel reflects the lack of a full-fledged obligation to say Hallel. It is a Hallel that is obligated by Minhag only. Chag HaMatzos has essentially only one Hallel, said on the first day whicht is the central one. Once Hallel is recited the first day, it is not necessary to recite again. On Chag HaSukkos everyday has stature unto itself and a complete, obligatory Hallel must be said everyday. After discerning the pattern, the question "Why" must be asked. What is the essential difference between what we celebrate in the two holidays that makes the halachah contrast them so sharply?

Sukkos is about realizing the kdusha in everyday life through the Mitzvah of Sukkah. Even the event that we mark by celebrating Sukkos is not really a specific event. The Torah commands us to fulfill the Mitzvah of Sukkah in order that our offspring should know that G-d gave us Sukkos to dwell in when we traveled from Egypt. It marks our entire existence in the desert, not any specific event. Chag HaSukkos reflects this by being a week of living in the Sukkah not a one-day event.

Not so is Chag HaMatzos which celebrates a historical event. Bnai Yisrael left Egypt so on that day we celebrate that event in history. The Rambam ( Hilchos Chametz U'Matzah 7), in discussing Sipur Yetzias Mitrayim, repeatedly stresses that we tell the story about what happened on the night of the fifteenth day of Nissan. Chag HaMatzos deals first and foremost with the Exodus from Egypt. While the many miracles relating to Yetzias Mitrayim,the makos and Krias Yam Suf, are both memorable and impressive, the keystone of the holiday is the focal event of that night, the transformation of our Nation from a Nation of slaves to the Nation of G-d. A separate discussion must be opened to discuss the significance and importance of the rest of the Chag, but clearly the centrality of the first day, which sets the tone for the whole Chag, is this transformation in the collective soul and the individual souls of the Nation.

Haggadah:

Jewish Identity

Yossi Ziffer

Mitzvas Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim (the mitzvah of retelling the Exodus from Egypt) dominates our Pesach seder. We deliberately seek to induce the questions and curiosity of our children, setting the stage for a personal and national recollection of our redemption from Egypt. The halachic formulation and codification of this mitzvah accentuates these themes of family, remembrance, and dedication.

The Rambam (Hilchos Chametz U’Matzah 7:1), records that the mitzvah of Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim falls out on the night of the fifteenth of Nissan. However, does this mitzvah add anything new? We already have a year-round responsibility to remember Yetzias Mitzrayim, manifesting itself in K'rias Shema, Birkhas HaMazon, and Kiddush. For example, the Rambam (Hilchos K'rias Shema 3:1) traces the source of this mitzvah to the pasuk:

Lema'an Tizkor Es Yom Tzeischa Me'Eretz Mitzrayim Kol Yemei Chayecha -

That you may remember the day when you came out of the land of Egypt all the days of your life. (Devarim 16:3)

Should we understand the seder as one more application of this mitzvah? Since the Rambam lists Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim separately, it must have its own unique dimensions. In fact, in Hilchos Chametz U’Matzah he identifies two p'sukim with the source of this new mitzvah. "Zachor es haYom haZeh asher Yetzasem miMitzrayim" (Shmos 13:3) (Remember this day, on which you came out of Egypt) joins with "V'Higadta L'Vincha BaYom haHu" (13:8) (And you shall relate to your son on that day) to create a new obligation. During the entire year, we must remember Yetzias Mitzrayim, while on Pesach night we relive the story.

Why did the Rambam bring two p'sukim to justify this mitzvah? Had he only mentioned Zachor es haYom haZeh..., we might have concluded that Pesach has no special mitzvah other than the general commandment to remember. On the other hand, if he had only quoted V'higadta L'Vincha, perhaps the mitzvah would have applied only to fathers with sons. The two p'sukim together teach us the true character of this mitzvah. Like the rest of the year, we remember Yetzias Mitzrayim. However, Pesach demands more. Because we trace our national birth back to Yetzias Mitzrayim, on the anniversary of that event we recreate that beginning by transmitting our heritage to a new generation. Each person in Am Yisrael joins a rich tradition of national and religious history. The family, a crucial unit in Judaism, incurs the responsibility to communicate these lessons of our past to its members. During the rest of the year we must remain aware of Yetzias Mitzrayim. However, on Pesach we relive its splendor in the present. This not only recalls the past, but also renews our dedication to Hashem and His mitzvos. By reliving the past, we reaffirm our commitment to its demands.

This heightened awareness of Yetzias Mitzrayim explains the Rambam’s formulation. Why didn’t he quote the pasuk of Lema'an Tizkor (mentioned in Hilchos K’rias Shema) in Hilchos Chametz U’Matzah? Why did he use a different pasuk to highlight the element of remembrance? The Minchas Chinuch explains that during the rest of the year, we learn the mitzvah of remembering Yetzias Mitzrayim at night from the added word of "Kol Yemei Chayecha" (All the days of your life). On Pesach, the intensity of even the zechirah (remembrance) increases, thus requiring a more explicit source. Our zechirah on Pesach qualitatively exceeds that of the rest of the year.

Last updated: 09/10/03 Comments:  disrael@ymail.yu.edu

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Last updated: 09/10/03 Comments:  disrael@ymail.yu.edu

Disclaimer    Webmaster     Web Policy     MIS   Copyright (c) 2000 Yeshiva University