Parashat Yitro

Rav Haim Lifshitz

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Parashat Yitro

Levels of Kedusha in Man’s Pnimiut

Rabbi Haim Lifshitz

 Translated from Hebrew by S. NAthan

l'ilui nishmat Esther bat mordechai

Ha’Alshich HaKadosh on Parashat Yitro:

“...Yet it is known (from those who are knowledgeable in the truth) that there are four screens that hide the shechina, and they are mentioned in the vision of Yehezkel (1:4): ‘Behold a wind of storm, etc., a great cloud, and flickering fire, and brilliant light all around it.’  It would seem from our masters (z.l.) that the external screen is coarser and more external to the screen that is inner in relation to it.  With this pattern it draws increasingly nearer to kedusha until it becomes the brilliantly sweet light that partakes of the pnimiut.

 

When the shefa comes and spreads reaching until the external screen, every one of the forces from the seventy ministers in the external screen (because that is where their quality lies, because they are external) receives of that abundance, and takes it into its pnimiut ...

 

Therefore, God’s Voice would emanate from its root in Him, be He blessed, and proceed through all the screens until the outside – so that the children of Adam, dwellers of the earth, could hear it.

 

That same rare Voice, when it spread to the outermost screen – every power of the seventy rulers, who partake of that screen, received power from this spreading.  You find one voice separating into seventy languages.  These are the seventy powers, each one of which is a ruler of one of the seventy languages.

 

We see that the person or the people who receive the Voice’s bounty, first receive from the last screen, and only afterwards, very slowly, and increasingly, they reach from the most external one to the second, and then to the third and to the forth.

 

Of that first screen, the most external of them all, it says “and there were sounds of thunder and streaks of lightning” because from the first screen they heard multiple sounds and were seeing streaks of lightning,  because as the screen is more external, so the Voice makes more noise.  Hence – “a wind of storm.”  It was the experience of this noise that was heard by the nations.

 

After they had attained the first screen, the people of Israel (alone) attained to see the second.  This is when it says “and a heavy cloud upon the mountain.”  It is this second that is called [in Yehezkel] “a great cloud.”

 

When they entered further in, their vision now in control of the third, that was the screen of “the flickering fire.”   At that point they were hearing one sound, as was meant by Moshe Rabeinu alav hashalom when he said “and His words you heard from within the fire.”  This is “the sound of the shofar.”  Meaning that it was like a sound that comes out of a coarse shfoferet, a thick tube, according to the quality of the sound.  So too from within the screen of fire, would the sound of His Voice yitbarach – be He blessed, come forth and be heard by them….and then they trembled and this is “and all the nation trembled” because the more the attainment increases, the more the attainer is distressed, and so how would they be able to attain to the fourth screen, for it is exceedingly sweet and very near to the supreme sanctity.

 

Then [at the next stage] there was no screen, but only the great fire – the one that is more inner than “the brilliant light,” of which it is said in Yehezkel – “and from within it as the eye of electricity within the fire – that it is there that is the glory of Israel’s God.”  That is “the great fire,” and of this fire is said “and Mount Sinai was all smoking due to the fact that k’vod Hashem had descended upon it.”  He yitbarach did so they would not look upon the shechina and nourish their eyes from It, because it was enough for them what had been seen through one vision.

 

…Because now that their attainment inward had grown, the bounty of the Voice began increasingly from an intensely powerful innerness, according to whatever their power of attainment to enter inward…for they continued increasingly to enter inward, in the seeing and hearing of the fine subtlety of the Voice with no screen, which is within the great fire that is before the glory of Israel’s God, and it would keep entering inward, and was too difficult to tolerate for Its intense power of spirituality, and this was when they heard “Anochi…” and “lo yihyeh lecha…”  (Ha’Alshich HaKadosh, Parashat Yitro.)"

 “ ‘These are the words’ no less and no more ‘that you will say to b’nei Yisrael.’”  (Rashi 19:6)  What would be less, and what would be more?  Rashi does not trouble to tell us.  The Torah takes up the task of describing – Mission Impossible: Transforming a mob of persecuted – beaten, battered, and degraded – slaves into “a kingdom of priests and a sacred people.”  How can these masses ever be turned into a consolidated nation, into a unit – chosen above all other nations and languages – into the people who would give the world a culture so qualitative in value that it has not been equaled to this day?

This cultural model is not given to imitation, due to the envy that it arouses, due to the values and qualities that have become a reproach to nations proud of their culture, for theirs is a culture of sinful people, and their encounter with the Jew forces them to admit their moral deficiency.

What is it about a Jew that deserves the privilege of being a symbol of one thing as well as its opposite?  Why is a Jew the symbol of a value that is not accessible to any definition whatsoever?  Is it his success?  His talents?  What is the sphere in which the Jew excels?

It would seem on the surface that there is no such sphere.  Despite the fact that in the sphere of scientific and cultural achievement Jews hold a prestigious position that is out of proportion to the size of their population, there does not seem to be any sphere in which Jews excel exclusively.

It seems that in the sphere of morality Jewish excellence is most blatant.  They are “given to feeling shame, given to feeling compassion, and  given to doing acts of kindness,” or as in the statement in Pirkei Avot (5:22): “Whoever has in his hand these three things, he is of the students of Avraham our father, and three other things, he is of the students of Bilam the wicked:  A good eye, and a low spirit and a humble mind – of the students of Avraham our father.  A bad eye, a proud spirit and a wide [grasping] mind – of the students of Bilam the wicked.”

In the sphere of human sensitivity, which is the root of good midot, it appears that the Jew has no rival among the nations.  However, regarding the war for survival – where brute force rules – it would be hard to see in these features any explanation for the amazing survival of the Jew.  Rather they should have undermined him, and been a plague and a stumbling block, being signs of weakness, of giving in rather than standing up aggressively for one’s rights.  “A kingdom of priests and a sacred people!”  This is no small thing.

Solidity, a healthy mind in a healthy body, camaraderie, solidarity,  taking a strong and courageous stand against the pressures and threats of existence,  are these cannot by acquired by the grace of sensitivity to the mida of compassion, which flows from the students of Avraham Avinu.  It would seem that we must seek the solution elsewhere.  We must find another element to explain this coalescence of spirit, this determination to stand up against all existential odds.  We must find an element that does not necessarily contradict noble character. 

It is no coincidence that parashat yitro begins with a description of the encounter with Yitro, and the counsel that he gives.  It seems on the surface to have no relevance to the parasha of matan Torah and aseret hadibrot, the ten commandments, which is the topic that holds central place as the crown jewel of this parasha.

You might say – simply preparation, organization, etc. – anything pertaining to the necessary preconditions for matan Torah, though they are obviously secondary technical issues, still they are necessary, even though their value is obviously not equal to the meaningful content of matan Torah.  Yet it would seem that there is more here than mere organizational issues.

Yitro knew, as the expert in world religions, of the great gap that yawns between religious instruction and its practical application, between a theory and its ability to withstand the tests of daily life.  Yitro was capable of testing the fabric of the new religion: To what extent was it made for human existence, to what extent would adopting it aid one in the struggle against life’s slings and arrows, both on the private and on the public plane.  Most importantly, what was the measure of correlation between heavenly theory and man’s natural needs?  To what extent would it be able to contribute to equilibrium between freedom and belonging?  Between compulsion and freedom of choice?  Between dogma and God’s servant’s natural self? 

Yitro’s advice was to bring religious dogma down to day-to-day life, to the mundane plane of social relations, of legal relations, of the interpersonal, of monetary law – dinei mamonot – by which every theory must ultimately be tested.  To the extent that the theory could be made into a norm, it would be able to mold stable and permanent behavior patterns that would become routine in the life of society.

“Rulers of thousands,” the princes and leaders of the tribe, would be inadequate to penetrate to the ranks of the people “with its families.”  Therefore the “rulers of hundreds” were drafted, and most importantly, the “rulers of tens.”  In these personal frameworks, where everyone knew everyone else personally, a theory would become a behavioral norm.

At the individual level, Halacha is not reduced to an external compulsion that is imposed from above, but rather finds itself being fulfilled on the plane of reciprocity – of consensus between equals.  Amazingly enough, we find no deterioration or loss of authority here.  Rather, there is a perfect overlap between authority and reciprocity, through the principle of mutual involvement and mutual complementarity, of cooperation between midat hadin and midat harahamim.

It is so on the plane of interpersonal relations – between man and his fellow creatures, and it is so too on the spiritual plane: Reciprocity contributes to making peace between the intellectual and the human, and between the esthetic and the moral.  Many pens have been broken over this debacle: An intellectual society rich in esthetic achievements fails miserably and shamefully when it must confront moral principles and the demands this makes upon an individual and upon a nation.

Complementarity and Equilibrium

 The complementarity and the equilibrium that were attained between these disparate elements are the secret of matan Torah’s success.  The principle of reciprocity assisted yotsei mitsrayim to identify personally with Torah law.  They became a nation in which authority pierces through and rises up from the burning soul of the individual Jew, as well as from the Jewish public, which grants authority to its Rav, to its Posek and to its judge, by merit of Torah, by the crown of Torah that he has merited through devotion and toil.

It must be noted that the nation tends not to bestow of its authority, it tends not to grant the scepter of leadership to a leader whose crown of Torah is not tied – in a totally unifying bond – to the crown of humility and to all other noble midot.  Judaism does not tolerate such a separation as is tolerated and accepted by other religions, thanks to the principle of reciprocity which unites God and man in the sense of “finding grace and good wisdom in the eyes of God and man.”

Talents and esthetics belong to heaven.  Good midot represent man.  By virtue of reciprocity, man learns his good midot from God’s midot: “Just as He is compassionate, so you be compassionate.”  The subjective human being becomes a value of objective truth in heaven’s eyes.  Subjective human experience is recognized in heaven as well.  Though halacha is formulated in the earthly bet din, it merits citizenship in the heavenly bet din as well: “My children have triumphed over Me.”

“A tsadik decrees and the Holy One fulfills.”

The four screens are an encounter between the human and the heavenly.  This encounter is taluy al blima, “suspended above the howling void.”  What is the nature of this blima?  It is a charged mass composed of “sounds of thunder and streaks of lightning,” a great cloud, and flickering fire, and a brilliant light all around.”  It is a charged mass that is too great and too heavy for the human creature to bear.  “Because the more the attainment increases, the more the attainer is distressed.”  “And Mount Sinai was all smoking due to the fact that k’vod Hashem had descended upon it.”  He yitbarach did so they would not look upon the shechina.”

How would such an encounter be feasible?  “…Because now that their attainment inward had grown, the bounty of the Voice began increasingly from an intensely powerful innerness, according to whatever their power of attainment to enter inward…”  “And there was no screen...”  “And from within it as the eye of electricity within the fire.”

These four screens are path markers on the journey from outer to inner.  From Divine hashgaha to free choice.  From itaruta dishmaya, which awakens and activates itaruta dil’tata – that Holy of Holies, the Godly spark in man’s soul.  This process penetrates through to the infrastructure of the soul, and arouses shock waves in it “as the eye of electricity,” a profound response of the soul – of the Godly “I”.  It is a process that moves toward bonding, toward union and identification, toward cleaving to one’s Godly source, “for it is exceedingly sweet and near to the supreme sanctity.”  “And a brilliant light all around” is the pleasure of connecting, of union with one’s Godly source – source of endless infinite bounty because by then all barriers have melted away, and all survival mechanisms; all sina, kina, ta’ava, v’kavod – hatred, envy, lustfulness, and conceit are gone.  All that is left is an endless love for all who are created in God’s image.  This love is personal and human.  It understands and it identifies.  It is the essence of reciprocity – it is “love your fellow as yourself.”

This process has two elementary components: The Godly component that encounters and unites with the human component of “I” to the point of a perfectly completing symbiosis.  The heart’s voice encounters the voice of the rules.  The source of the heart’s voice is the soul’s voice, the Godly spark in man that has coalesced into an “I”.  “I”’s component is uniquely original quality.  “I” is the place where creativity flourishes, where the imagination creates, where decision is weighed.  It is the source of quality and value, the source of justice, the source of all good midot as one.  Creativity and noble midot do not derive from different sources.  Both of these derive from the same qualitative source, from the uniquely original “I”.

When creativity and noble midot split apart, this phenomenon testifies to a split in one’s basic personality, a split between “I” and itself, between “I” and ego.  Such a person is not whole.  For a whole person, the instruction that “‘you will love your God your Lord with all your hearts’ – with your two urges” is fulfilled by merging them both in God’s service.  Then ego protects “I”’s  qualities and values in “a vessel that holds blessing”, granting it tangibility.  The ego is wholly sacred then, when it is dedicated to the task of actualizing and applying “I”, when it refrains from pursuing external stimulation.  It does not deal in the survival mechanism.  It does not revolve around the question of ‘how’, but rather cooperates with “I” in clarifying the question of ‘for what purpose?’  Thus the instruction is fulfilled: “All your acts will be for the sake of heaven,” and “in all your paths, know Him.”

Most of all, cooperation between “I” and ego avoids the ruinous conflict between opposites:  The external instruction versus the intuition, which is queen of the inner world.  A sensation of inner truth is born of cleanness of mind and purity of midot, of freedom from klipot – from the external shells, for “he ate the [fruit’s] inside, and threw away its shell.” 

This refers to a cautious and wise sorting through and separating of the l’vush, the garment from the shell.  The garment means the protective container that grants substance to “I”’s unique quality – it is ego’s contribution, connecting “I” to the world.  It is a complementary bond between external behavioral rules and “I”’s needs and will.

Without “I”’s purity and independence, complementarity between vessel and contents is not feasible.  Without cautious and persistent coordination, the vessel turns into a strangling framework, that prevents “I”’s expression and its flourishing.  “I”’s response to the threat of strangulation, caused by the invasion of foreign elements from the outside, is a withdrawal into itself, or alternatively a destructive outburst that destroys boundaries and breaks down the vital roadblocks of law and order, that tramples convention; wanton abandon in the sense of “a slave feels comfortable with wanton abandon.”

Internal anarchy, and “I”’s final disintegration cause the obsessive-compulsive phenomenon.  “I” is strangled to the point of detachment and loss of control.  It becomes incapable of making use of ego’s protective mechanism.  At this point all of “I”’s components disappear from reality’s arena.  There is no intuition, no tact, no consideration of the other, no room for the proper judgment of common sense, insight’s voice is stilled.  A society that runs on rules alone turns eventually into a ship of fools.  A loss of the ability to sense the other creates relationships of cruelty, which are blocked from awareness of the other’s needs and sensitivities.  Thus you have an employer’s lack of consideration for the employee, and an educator’s lack of consideration for the student.  This triggers protective responses in the form of disloyalty, lies, and betrayal.  From here to disintegration of the frameworks of family and community, it is a short road.

So the picture appears, in a society where personal ties are absent, where technocracy has displaced personal relationships, where science has displaced art, and where rationality has displaced emotion.  Education for values is rejected in favor of instruction, which teaches behavioral rules that revolve around the question of ‘how,’ as opposed to an education that cultivates and answers the question of ‘to what purpose’, that cultivates the personality of the individual student, and encourages his uniquely creative efforts.  It is a competitive instruction that erases the personal subjective self in favor of “objective” achievements that have no personal expression and none of “I”’s quality, for it prefers quantitative achievements that lack originality and inspiration. 

Quick and clever technocrats win prizes and recognition, while those of uniquely original talent are discarded, neglected, and humiliated.

 It should be pointed out that in an intimate society, in the framework of family and tribe, where everyone knows everyone else, there is no need for a proliferation of rules.  Every single individual is thoroughly and expertly versed in the accepted rules of tradition, because they have grown up organically around the community’s natural needs, through coordination with and consideration of the needs of every single individual within the community. 

Within a natural society, there is room for instruction from above, for “Torah from heaven.”  Its commandments are not meant to provide alienation-gone-mad-within-a-society-whose population-is-exploding with an agenda for imposing order at any expense, no matter how inconsiderate or brutal.  The laws and mitsvot of the Torah excel in their compatibility with personal experience, in their ability to shape “I”’s quality in order to join it to the dimension of height, to grant “I” a value-based goal that answers the most decisive existential question: “To what purpose?”

Mitsvot give eternal meaning to day-to-day living by breathing new life into routine, which is brute-force’s mechanical perception of things: “These are the words that you should say to b’nei Yisrael.”  Rashi adds the critical emphasis: “these...’no more and no less.’”  Meaning, these are the rules that must be coordinated, in cautious doses that respect the intimate needs of every single individual.  Regarding this, a warning is given:  Bal Tosif.  “Do not add, and do not detract.”  This is education’s key, and it transforms the educator into an artists’ artist, into the master of pedagogy that merits Hazal’s most laudatory terms.

Why all this?  Because the true educator, who raises the grade of kedusha within every student’s inner world, always considers the individualized approach that is endorsed by Hazal’s statement that “man was created individually.”  Being each one unique it follows that each one’s needs are unique.  Neither a quantity of instructions and rules nor their content can ever arrange a normative standard that is appropriate for every person.

The greater human quality grows, the  less the need for external guidelines, and the more man feels the need to trust  his own personal intuition, which springs from his own inner world, and which contains the great quality of his  own uniquely original “I”.

Distinguishing Permissible/Forbidden from Good/Evil

 Thus man requires a thicker framework of external guidelines at the beginning stages of his development.  Hence the vital need to give a child clear guidelines, for a child requires protection from life’s slings and arrows, from enticements that he does not know how to withstand due to lack of experience and knowledge.  Even his overly simplistic survival mechanism requires support.  Individualized guidelines are not yet available to him, and therefore they undergo a process of becoming normative averages that apply to everyone.  For this very reason, their beneficial effects are limited to imposing order, and fail to provide responses that can clarify personal or moral problems.  To this end, one must gradually merge them with personal self-awareness, which must be joined to the general rule that becomes the obligatory external law.  However, when the obligatory law that is not carefully modified, it can prevent and even strangle self-awareness, and then its advantages are outweighed by its disadvantages.

For a child, who is ruled by yetser hara from the moment he is thrust from his mother’s womb, while still lacking the inner equilibrium of “I” (yetser tov), there is a need for external intervention through forbidden/permissible approach, which is ruled by a legal mechanism.  The more “I” develops the more the need to turn to “I” for guidance grows, in the form of developing moral distinctions between good and evil.  This is an ability to make sensitive human distinctions based upon values.  Coping with and recognizing this, is the very root of the task of education. 

“Fear of the government” remains always in the background, as a marker of the red lines that create the boundaries of forbidden and permissible.  These red lines are positive, as long as they do not penetrate into the center of the arena of behavioral territory.  For this territory is reserved for “I”’s creative and moral expression.  Distinguishing these two territories is the challenge Judaism poses, through a supremely educational methodology.

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