וְשֶׁאֵינוֹ יוֹדֵעַ לִשְׁאוֹל - אַתְּ פְּתַח לוֹ
And the one who does not know how to ask you must open for him
It is said that Rebbe Menachem Mendel of Kotzk once asked his disciples, “Where does God live?” The disciples were perplexed. “What does the rebbe mean: Where does God live? Where does God not live? Surely we have been taught that no place is devoid of His presence? He fills the heavens and the earth.” The rebbe replied, “You have not understood. God lives where we let Him in.”
On another occasion he asked, “Why does it say in the Shema: ‘These words shall be on your heart’? Why ‘on’ and not ‘in’?” He answered: “The heart is not always open. Therefore the Torah says: Lay these words on your heart, so that when your heart opens, they will be there, ready to fall in.”
In Judaism, spirituality means openness. To one who is open, God is closer than we are to ourselves. To one who is closed, He is farther away than the most distant galaxies. The task of education is to teach a child to be open – to the voice of God and the miracle of existence. A question, asked with sincerity, is an opening in the soul.
(ז) רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר אִישׁ בַּרְתּוֹתָא אוֹמֵר, תֶּן לוֹ מִשֶּׁלּוֹ, שֶׁאַתָּה וְשֶׁלְּךָ שֶׁלּוֹ. וְכֵן בְּדָוִד הוּא אוֹמֵר (דברי הימים א כט) כִּי מִמְּךָ הַכֹּל וּמִיָּדְךָ נָתַנּוּ לָךְ. רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן אוֹמֵר, הַמְהַלֵּךְ בַּדֶּרֶךְ וְשׁוֹנֶה, וּמַפְסִיק מִמִּשְׁנָתוֹ וְאוֹמֵר, מַה נָּאֶה אִילָן זֶה וּמַה נָּאֶה נִיר זֶה, מַעֲלֶה עָלָיו הַכָּתוּב כְּאִלּוּ מִתְחַיֵּב בְּנַפְשׁוֹ:
(7) Rabbi Elazar of Bartotha said: give to Him of that which is His, for you and that which is yours is His; and thus it says with regards to David: “for everything comes from You, and from Your own hand have we given you” (I Chronicles 29:14). Rabbi Jacob said: if one is studying while walking on the road and interrupts his study and says, “how fine is this tree!” [or] “how fine is this newly ploughed field!” scripture accounts it to him as if he was mortally guilty.
(ו) דָּבָר יָדוּעַ וּבָרוּר שֶׁאֵין אַהֲבַת הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא נִקְשֶׁרֶת בְּלִבּוֹ שֶׁל אָדָם עַד שֶׁיִּשְׁגֶּה בָּהּ תָּמִיד כָּרָאוּי וְיַעֲזֹב כָּל מַה שֶּׁבָּעוֹלָם חוּץ מִמֶּנָּה. כְּמוֹ שֶׁצִּוָּה וְאָמַר בְּכָל לְבָבְךָ וּבְכָל נַפְשְׁךָ. אֵינוֹ אוֹהֵב הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא אֶלָּא בְּדַעַת שֶׁיְּדָעֵהוּ. וְעַל פִּי הַדֵּעָה תִּהְיֶה הָאַהֲבָה אִם מְעַט מְעַט וְאִם הַרְבֵּה הַרְבֵּה. לְפִיכָךְ צָרִיךְ הָאָדָם לְיַחֵד עַצְמוֹ לְהָבִין וּלְהַשְׂכִּיל בְּחָכְמוֹת וּתְבוּנוֹת הַמּוֹדִיעִים לוֹ אֶת קוֹנוֹ כְּפִי כֹּחַ שֶׁיֵּשׁ בָּאָדָם לְהָבִין וּלְהַשִּׂיג כְּמוֹ שֶׁבֵּאַרְנוּ בְּהִלְכוֹת יְסוֹדֵי הַתּוֹרָה:
(6) It is a known and clear matter that the love for the Holy One, blessed is He! does not become tied up within the heart of man unless he will constantly feel its proper tremor, and abandon everything in the world save that alone, even as He commanded: "With all thine heart and with all thine soul" (Ibid. 6.5). No one loves the Holy One, blessed is He! save by the measure of knowledge that he knows Him. According to that knowledge will that love be; if it be small, the love will be small; if it be abundant, the love will be abundant. It is, therefore, necessary for man to dedicate himself to understand and acquire intelligence in the sciences and reasonings which make known to him his Creator, according to the potential which man possesses to understand and comprehend it, as we have explained in the Laws of the Foundations of the Torah.
Joseph Heller, Good as Gold p.74.
Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks
“Eight years ago, in the midst of a night of terror filled with the horrors of Maidanek, Treblinka, and Buchenwald, in a night of gas chambers and crematoria, in a night of absolute divine self-concealment (hester panim muhlat), in a night ruled by the satan of doubt and apostasy which sought to sweep the maiden from her house into the Christian church, in a night of continuous searching, of questing for the beloved – in that very night the beloved appeared. “God who conceals Himself in His dazzling hiddeness” suddenly manifested Himself and began to knock at the tent of his despondent and disconsolate love, twisting convulsively on her bed, suffering the pains of hell. As a result of the knocks on the door of the maiden, wrapped in mourning, the State of Israel was born!
“How many times did the Beloved knock on the door of the tent of his love? It appears to me that we can count at least six knocks.
“First the knock of the Beloved was heard in the political arena. No one can deny that from the standpoint of international relations, the establishment of the State of Israel, in a political sense, was an almost supernatural occurrence. Both Russia and the Western countries jointly supported the idea of the establishment of the State. This was perhaps the only proposal where East and West were united. I am inclined to believe that the United Nations organization was created specifically for this purpose – in order to carry out the mission which divine providence had set for it…
“Second, the knocking of the Beloved could be heard on the battlefield. The small Israeli defense forces defeated the mighty armies of the Arab countries. The miracle of “the many in the hands of the few” took place before our very eyes…
“Third, the Beloved began to knock as well on the door of the theological tent, and it may very well be that this is the strongest knock of all. I have oftened emphasized, when speaking of the land of Israel, that all the claims of Christian theologians that God deprived the Jewish people of its rights in the land of Israel, and that all the biblical promises regarding Zion and Jerusalem refer, in an allegorical sense, to christianity and the Christian church, have been publicly refuted by the establishment of the State of Israel and been exposed as falsehoods, lacking all validity…
“Fourth, the Beloved is knocking in the hearts of the perplexed and assimilated youths. The era of self-concealment (hastarat panim) at the beginning of the 1940s resulted in great confusion among the Jewish masses and in particular, among the Jewish youth. Assimilation grew, and became more rampant, and the impulse to flee from Judaism and from the Jewish people reached a new height… Suddenly, the Beloved began to knock on the doors of the hearts of the perplexed, and His knock, the rise of the State of Israel, at the very east slowed the process of flight. Many of those who, in the past, were alienated from the Jewish people are now tied to the Jewish State by a sense of pride in its outstanding achievements…
“The fifth knock of the Beloved is perhaps the most important of all. For the first time in the history of our exile, divine providence has surprised our enemies with the sensational discovery that Jewish blood is not free for the taking, is not hefker! ..Revenge is forbidden when it serves no purpose. However, if by taking revenge we raise ourselves up t the plane of self-defense, then it becomes the elementary right of man qua man to avenge the wrongs inflicted upon him…
“The sixth knock, which we must not ignore, was heard when the gates of the land were opened. A Jew who flees from a hostile country now knows that he can find a secure refuge in the land of his ancestors. This is a new phenomenon in our history. Until now, whenever Jewish communities were expelled from their lands, they had to wander in the wilderness of the nations and were not able to find shelter in another land… Now the situation has changed… Had the State of Israel arisen before Hitler’s Holocaust, hundreds of thousands of Jews might have been saved from the gas chambers ad crematoria. The miracle of the State came just a bit late, and as a result of this delay thousands and tens of thousands of Jews were murdered.. Let us not view this matter lightly! It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh!”
When I lived in London I used to visit the National Gallery, and my favorite pictures were those of Rembrandt. I really think that Rembrandt was a Tzadik. Do you know that when I first saw Rembrandt’s work they reminded me of the legend of the creation of light? We are told that when God created light, it was so strong and pellucid, that one could see from one end of the world to the other, but God was afraid that the wicked might abuse it. What did He do? He reserved that light for the righteous when the Messiah should come. But now and then there are great men who are blessed and privileged to see it. I think that Rembrandt was one of them, and the light in his pictures is the very light that was originally created by God Almighty.
Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaCohen Kook
All these things which are said generally of the Creator – as we value the wonders of the creative wisdom altogether, we must find a model in a wise and whole man devoted to purposeful creation. The highest and most blessed of all artists was Bezalel, who created with the Spirit of G-d. He completed a real picture, which demands a great wisdom of positioning the physical parts in it, positioning its lights and shadows, its buds and flowers, etc., the intention and extreme attention to detail to reach the essence of the purity of existence.
Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaCohen Kook, Ein Ayah, Berachot, Vol. 2, p.263
But what I learned that night that my team lost, was that the game is bigger than the team. That is a very deep truth indeed. We are tribal creatures. That’s why humans fight wars. The more we can find symbolic substitutes for conflict the better. And they might just remind us of the even deeper truth that our shared humanity ultimately matters more than our religious differences.
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks
I chose a team sport. There is a kind of magic when men unite their energies to express a common idea. That is when sport becomes beautiful. The unhappiness of man comes when he finds himself alone to fight against the problems he must face. Especially in modern society. Team sport has a value, that of being able to be ahead of its time. You can play with eleven players from eleven different countries and offer a collective work. Today’s sports can show what the world of tomorrow will be. We can share fabulous emotions with people that you can’t talk to. That is not yet possible in daily society. When tennis becomes the Davis Cup, it carries something it otherwise doesn’t. Same with golf and the Ryder Cup. People feel it. The vibration is there.
Arsene Wenger, L’Equipe, November 2015
Kathrine Switzer
Out on the roads, there is fitness and self-discovery and the persons we were destined to be.
George Sheehan
Music, Language of the Soul, Covenant & Conversation, Beshalach (5772)
There is an inner connection between music and the spirit. When language aspires to the transcendent and the soul longs to break free of the gravitational pull of the earth, it modulates into song.
Music, said Arnold Bennett is “a language which the soul alone understands but which the soul can never translate.” It is, in Richter’s words “the poetry of the air.” Tolstoy called it “the shorthand of emotion.” Goethe said, “Religious worship cannot do without music. It is one of the foremost means to work upon man with an effect of marvel.”
Words are the language of the mind. Music is the language of the soul.
So when we seek to express or evoke emotion we turn to melody. Deborah sang after Israel’s victory over the forces of Siserah. Hannah sang when she had a child. When Saul was depressed, David would play for him and his spirit would be restored. David himself was known as the “sweet singer of Israel”. Elisha called for a harpist to play so that the prophetic spirit could rest upon him. The Levites sang in the Temple. Every day, in Judaism, we preface our morning prayers with Pesukei de-Zimra, the ‘Verses of Song’ with their magnificent crescendo, Psalm 150, in which instruments and the human voice combine to sing God’s praises.
Music has extraordinary power to evoke emotion. The Kol Nidrei prayer with which Yom Kippur begins is not really a prayer at all. It is a dry legal formula for the annulment of vows. There can be little doubt that it is its ancient, haunting melody that has given it its hold over the Jewish imagination. It is hard to hear those notes and not feel that you are in the presence of God on the Day of Judgment, standing in the company of Jews of all places and times as they pleaded with heaven for forgiveness. It is the holy of holies of the Jewish soul.
(Lehavdil, Beethoven came close to it in the opening notes of the sixth movement of the C Sharp Minor Quartet op. 131, his most sublime and spiritual work).
Nor can you sit on Tisha B’av reading Eichah, the book of Lamentations, with its own unique cantillation, and not feel the tears of Jews through the ages as they suffered for their faith and wept as they remembered what they had lost, the pain as fresh as it was the day the Temple was destroyed.
Words without music are like a body without a soul.
A holy melody has the power to bring one to the level of prophecy. Music is the foundation of true attachment to God. Music has a tremendous power to draw you to God. Get into the habit of always singing a tune. It will give you a new life and send joy into your soul. Then you will be able to bind yourself to God.
The Great Partnership, p. 89
Covenant & Conversation, Parshat Terumah: The Gift of Giving
God lives not in houses of wood and stone, but in minds and souls of free human beings. He is to be found not in monumental architecture, but in the willing heart.
Covenant & Conversation, Parshat Terumah: Tabernacle and Temple
I wonder if any people has ever loved a book as we love the Torah. We stand when it passes as if it were a king. We dance with it as if it were a bride. If it is desecrated or destroyed, we bury it as if it were a relative or friend. We study it endlessly as if in it were hidden all the secrets of our being. Heinrich Heine once called the Torah the “portable homeland” of the Jewish people, by which he meant that when we lacked a land, we found our home in the Torah’s words. More powerfully still, the Baal Shem Tov – founder of the Hassidic movement in the eighteenth century – said that the Jewish people is a living Sefer Torah, and every Jew is one of its letters. I am moved by that image, and it invites a question – the question: Will we, in our lifetime, be letters in the scroll of the Jewish people?
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, Radical Then, Radical Now, p. 38
And lead me to salvation
Take my love
For love is everlasting
And remember
The truth that once was spoken:
To love another person is to see the face of god.
Finale, Les Miserables
I sought my God, but my God eluded me.
I sought my brother and there I found all three.
William Blake (?)
Texts to explore our concept of God, and different models of relationship with God
(א) וּנְתַנֶּה תֹּקֶף קְדֻשַּׁת הַיּוֹם כִּי הוּא נוֹרָא וְאָיֹם וּבוֹ תִּנָּשֵׂא מַלְכוּתֶךָ וְיִכּוֹן בְּחֶסֶד כִּסְאֶךָ וְתֵשֵׁב עָלָיו בְּאֱמֶת
(ב) אֱמֶת כִּי אַתָּה הוּא דַּיָּן וּמוֹכִיחַ וְיוֹדֵעַ וָעֵד וְכוֹתֵב וְחוֹתֵם וְסוֹפֵר וּמוֹנֶה וְתִזְכֹּר כָּל הַנִּשְׁכָּחוֹת וְתִפְתַּח אֶת סֵפֶר הַזִּכְרוֹנוֹת וּמֵאֵלָיו יִקָּרֵא וְחוֹתָם יַד כָּל אָדָם בּוֹ
(ג) וּבְשׁוֹפָר גָּדוֹל יִתָּקַע וְקוֹל דְּמָמָה דַקָּה יִשָׁמַע וּמַלְאָכִים יֵחָפֵזוּן וְחִיל וּרְעָדָה יֹאחֵזוּן וְיֹאמְרוּ הִנֵּה יוֹם הַדִּין לִפְקֹד עַל צְבָא מָרוֹם בַּדִּין כִּי לֹא יִזְכּוּ בְּעֵינֶיךָ בַּדִּין וְכָל בָּאֵי עוֹלָם יַעַבְרוּן לְפָנֶיךָ כִּבְנֵי מָרוֹן כְּבַקָּרַת רוֹעֶה עֶדְרוֹ מַעֲבִיר צֹאנוֹ תַּחַת שִׁבְטוֹ כֵּן תַּעֲבִיר וְתִסְפֹּר וְתִמְנֶה וְתִפְקֹד נֶפֶשׁ כָּל חָי וְתַחְתֹּךְ קִצְבָה לְכָל בְּרִיָּה וְתִכְתֹּב אֶת גְּזַר דִּינָם
(ד) בְּרֹאשׁ הַשָּׁנָה יִכָּתֵבוּן, וּבְיוֹם צוֹם כִּפּוּר יֵחָתֵמוּן. כַּמָּה יַעַבְרוּן, וְכַמָּה יִבָּרֵאוּן, מִי יִחְיֶה, וּמִי יָמוּת, מִי בְקִצּוֹ, וּמִי לֹא בְּקִצּוֹ, מִי בַמַּיִם, וּמִי בָאֵשׁ, מִי בַחֶרֶב, וּמִי בַחַיָּה, מִי בָרָעָב, וּמִי בַצָּמָא, מִי בָרַעַשׁ, וּמִי בַמַּגֵּפָה, מִי בַחֲנִיקָה, וּמִי בַסְּקִילָה, מִי יָנוּחַ, וּמִי יָנוּעַ, מִי יִשָּׁקֵט, וּמִי יְטֹּרֵף, מִי יִשָּׁלֵו, וּמִי יִתְיַסָּר, מִי יַעֲנִי, וּמִי יַעֲשִׁיר, מִי יֻשְׁפַּל, וּמִי יָרוּם. וּתְשׁוּבָה וּתְפִלָּה וּצְדָקָה מַעֲבִירִין אֶת רֹעַ הַגְּזֵרָה.
(ה) כִּי כְּשִׁמְךָ כֵּן תְּהִלָּתֶךָ, קָשֶׁה לִכְעוֹס וְנוֹחַ לִרְצוֹת, כִּי לֹא תַחְפֹּץ בְּמוֹת הַמֵּת, כִּי אִם בְּשׁוּבוֹ מִדַּרְכּוֹ וְחָיָה, וְעַד יוֹם מוֹתוֹ תְּחַכֶּה לוֹ, אִם יָשׁוּב מִיַּד תְּקַבְּלוֹ. (אֱמֶת) כִּי אַתָּה הוּא יוֹצְרָם וְיוֹדֵעַ יִצְרָם, כִּי הֵם בָּשָׂר וָדָם.
(ו) אָדָם יְסוֹדוֹ מֵעָפָר וְסוֹפוֹ לֶעָפָר. בְּנַפְשׁוֹ יָבִיא לַחְמוֹ. מָשׁוּל כְּחֶרֶס הַנִּשְׁבָּר, כְּחָצִיר יָבֵשׁ, וּכְצִיץ נוֹבֵל, כְּצֵל עוֹבֵר, וּכְעָנָן כָּלָה, וּכְרוּחַ נוֹשָׁבֶת, וּכְאָבָק פּוֹרֵחַ, וְכַחֲלוֹם יָעוּף. וְאַתָּה הוּא מֶלֶךְ אֵל חַי וְקַיָּם.
(1) We lend power to the holiness of this day. For it is tremendous and awe filled, and on it your kingship will be exalted, your throne will be established in loving-kindness, and you will sit on that throne in truth.
(2) It is true that you are the one who judges, and reproves, who knows all, and bears witness, who inscribes, and seals, who reckons and enumerates. You remember all that is forgotten. You open the book of records, and from it, all shall be read. In it lies each person's insignia.
(3) And with a great shofar it is sounded, and a thin silent voice shall be heard. And the angels shall be alarmed, and dread and fear shall seize them as they proclaim: behold! the Day of Judgment on which the hosts of heaven shall be judged, for they too shall not be judged blameless by you, and all creatures shall parade before you as a herd of sheep. As a shepherd herds his flock, directing his sheep to pass under his staff, so do you shall pass, count, and record the souls of all living, and decree a limit to each persons days, and inscribe their final judgment.
(4) On Rosh Hashanah it is inscribed, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed - how many shall pass away and how many shall be born, who shall live and who shall die, who in good time, and who by an untimely death, who by water and who by fire, who by sword and who by wild beast, who by famine and who by thirst, who by earthquake and who by plague, who by strangulation and who by lapidation, who shall have rest and who wander, who shall be at peace and who pursued, who shall be serene and who tormented, who shall become impoverished and who wealthy, who shall be debased, and who exalted. But repentance, prayer and righteousness avert the severity of the decree.
(5) For your praise is just as your name. You are slow to anger and quick to be appeased. For you do not desire the death of the condemned, rather, that they turn from their path and live and you wait for them until the day of their death, and if they repent, you receive them immediately. (It is true -) [For] you are their Creator and You understand their inclination, for they are but flesh and blood.
(6) We come from dust, and return to dust. We labour by our lives for bread, we are like broken shards, like dry grass, and like a withered flower; like a passing shadow and a vanishing cloud, like a breeze that passes, like dust that scatters, like a fleeting dream. But You are the king who lives eternal.
"וּנְתַנֶּה תֹּקֶף - Let us voice the power of this day’s sanctity"
in the Koren Yom Kippur Machzor
One of the greatest poems in the literature of Jewish prayer, Untaneh Tokef paints the great themes of Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur in a series of unforgettable vignettes. In the first, we see the heavenly court with God sitting on the throne of judgment. Before Him is the book of all our deeds. Everyone’s life is there, and everyone’s signature. The shofar sounds. The court is in session. Even the angels tremble. The trial is about to begin.
The next movement tells us what is at stake. The fate of each of us will be decided today: who will live, who will die, who will prosper, who will suffer, who will be at ease, who will face strife, who will fall and who will rise. Then, just as we seem to be embracing a kind of fatalism, the poem sets up a counterpoint with the cry: But repentance, prayer and charity avert the evil of the decree. No fate is final. Life is not a script written by Aeschylus or Sophocles in which the decree cannot be rescinded and tragedy is inexorable. That is not our God, our faith, our world. God forgives; God pardons; God exercises clemency – if we truly repent and pray and give to others. The verdict may have been written, but it is not yet sealed, and God is still open to appeal. We may pray for a good fate but we do not reconcile ourselves to fatalism.
Next comes a moving reflection on the fragility of human life when set against the backdrop of the eternity of God. We are no more than a fragment of pottery, a blade of grass, a flower that fades, a shadow, a cloud, a breath of wind. Dust we are and to dust we return. But God is life forever: holding fast to Him we defeat death. “We are children of this world,” wrote Rabbi Moshe ibn Ezra, “but God has set eternity in our hearts.”
Untaneh Tokef was long believed to have been written in the eleventh century by Rabbi Amnon of Mainz, who died a martyr’s death after refusing to convert to Christianity. The discovery of the prayer in ancient manuscripts in the Cairo Geniza suggests, however, that the prayer is older than this. Almost certainly it was composed in Israel, possibly as early as the sixth or seventh century, and possibly by Yannai, the first great composer of liturgical poetry known to us by name. The story of Rabbi Amnon is less about the composition of the prayer than about its adoption by the Jewish communities of northern Europe.
“Faith does not mean certainty. It means the courage to live with uncertainty. It does not mean having the answers, it means having the courage to ask the questions and not let go of God, as He does not let go of us. It means realising that God creates Divine justice but only we, acting in accord with His word, can create human justice – and our very existence means that this is what God wants us to do.”
To Heal A Fractured World, p. 199
(כ) וַיֹּ֣אמֶר יְהֹוָ֔ה זַעֲקַ֛ת סְדֹ֥ם וַעֲמֹרָ֖ה כִּי־רָ֑בָּה וְחַ֨טָּאתָ֔ם כִּ֥י כָבְדָ֖ה מְאֹֽד׃ (כא) אֵֽרְדָה־נָּ֣א וְאֶרְאֶ֔ה הַכְּצַעֲקָתָ֛הּ הַבָּ֥אָה אֵלַ֖י עָשׂ֣וּ ׀ כָּלָ֑ה וְאִם־לֹ֖א אֵדָֽעָה׃ (כב) וַיִּפְנ֤וּ מִשָּׁם֙ הָֽאֲנָשִׁ֔ים וַיֵּלְכ֖וּ סְדֹ֑מָה וְאַ֨בְרָהָ֔ם עוֹדֶ֥נּוּ עֹמֵ֖ד לִפְנֵ֥י יְהֹוָֽה׃ (כג) וַיִּגַּ֥שׁ אַבְרָהָ֖ם וַיֹּאמַ֑ר הַאַ֣ף תִּסְפֶּ֔ה צַדִּ֖יק עִם־רָשָֽׁע׃ (כד) אוּלַ֥י יֵ֛שׁ חֲמִשִּׁ֥ים צַדִּיקִ֖ם בְּת֣וֹךְ הָעִ֑יר הַאַ֤ף תִּסְפֶּה֙ וְלֹא־תִשָּׂ֣א לַמָּק֔וֹם לְמַ֛עַן חֲמִשִּׁ֥ים הַצַּדִּיקִ֖ם אֲשֶׁ֥ר בְּקִרְבָּֽהּ׃ (כה) חָלִ֨לָה לְּךָ֜ מֵעֲשֹׂ֣ת ׀ כַּדָּבָ֣ר הַזֶּ֗ה לְהָמִ֤ית צַדִּיק֙ עִם־רָשָׁ֔ע וְהָיָ֥ה כַצַּדִּ֖יק כָּרָשָׁ֑ע חָלִ֣לָה לָּ֔ךְ הֲשֹׁפֵט֙ כׇּל־הָאָ֔רֶץ לֹ֥א יַעֲשֶׂ֖ה מִשְׁפָּֽט׃
(20) Then יהוה said, “The outrage of Sodom and Gomorrah is so great, and their sin so grave! (21) I will go down to see whether they have acted altogether according to the outcry that has reached Me; if not, I will take note.” (22) The agents went on from there to Sodom, while Abraham remained standing before יהוה. (23) Abraham came forward and said, “Will You sweep away the innocent along with the guilty? (24) What if there should be fifty innocent within the city; will You then wipe out the place and not forgive it for the sake of the innocent fifty who are in it? (25) Far be it from You to do such a thing, to bring death upon the innocent as well as the guilty, so that innocent and guilty fare alike. Far be it from You! Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?”
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks
To take seriously the idea, central to Judaism, of Avinu Malkeinu, that our King is first and foremost our parent, is to invest our relationship with God with the most profound emotions. God wrestles with us, as does a parent with a child. We wrestle with him as a child does with their parents. The relationship is sometimes tense, conflictual, even painful, yet what gives it its depth is the knowledge that it is unbreakable. Whatever happens, a parent is still a parent, and a child is still a child. The bond may be deeply damaged but it is never broken beyond repair.
(ג) וְכֵיצַד הִיא הָאַהֲבָה הָרְאוּיָה. הוּא שֶׁיֹּאהַב אֶת ה' אַהֲבָה גְּדוֹלָה יְתֵרָה עַזָּה מְאֹד עַד שֶׁתְּהֵא נַפְשׁוֹ קְשׁוּרָה בְּאַהֲבַת ה' וְנִמְצָא שׁוֹגֶה בָּהּ תָּמִיד כְּאִלּוּ חוֹלֶה חֳלִי הָאַהֲבָה שֶׁאֵין דַּעְתּוֹ פְּנוּיָה מֵאַהֲבַת אוֹתָהּ אִשָּׁה וְהוּא שׁוֹגֶה בָּהּ תָּמִיד בֵּין בְּשִׁבְתּוֹ בֵּין בְּקוּמוֹ בֵּין בְּשָׁעָה שֶׁהוּא אוֹכֵל וְשׁוֹתֶה. יֶתֶר מִזֶּה תִּהְיֶה אַהֲבַת ה' בְּלֵב אוֹהֲבָיו שׁוֹגִים בָּהּ תָּמִיד כְּמוֹ שֶׁצִּוָּנוּ בְּכָל לְבָבְךָ וּבְכָל נַפְשְׁךָ. וְהוּא שֶׁשְּׁלֹמֹה אָמַר דֶּרֶךְ מָשָׁל (שיר השירים ב ה) "כִּי חוֹלַת אַהֲבָה אָנִי". וְכָל שִׁיר הַשִּׁירִים מָשָׁל הוּא לְעִנְיָן זֶה:
(3) What is the proper [degree] of love? That a person should love God with a very great and exceeding love until his soul is bound up in the love of God. Thus, he will always be obsessed with this love as if he is lovesick.
[A lovesick person's] thoughts are never diverted from the love of that woman. He is always obsessed with her; when he sits down, when he gets up, when he eats and drinks. With an even greater [love], the love for God should be [implanted] in the hearts of those who love Him and are obsessed with Him at all times as we are commanded [Deuteronomy 6:5: "Love God...] with all your heart and with all soul."
This concept was implied by Solomon [Song of Songs 2:5] when he stated, as a metaphor: "I am lovesick." [Indeed,] the totality of the Song of Songs is a parable describing [this love].
(ו) דָּבָר יָדוּעַ וּבָרוּר שֶׁאֵין אַהֲבַת הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא נִקְשֶׁרֶת בְּלִבּוֹ שֶׁל אָדָם עַד שֶׁיִּשְׁגֶּה בָּהּ תָּמִיד כָּרָאוּי וְיַעֲזֹב כָּל מַה שֶּׁבָּעוֹלָם חוּץ מִמֶּנָּה. כְּמוֹ שֶׁצִּוָּה וְאָמַר בְּכָל לְבָבְךָ וּבְכָל נַפְשְׁךָ. אֵינוֹ אוֹהֵב הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא אֶלָּא בְּדַעַת שֶׁיְּדָעֵהוּ. וְעַל פִּי הַדֵּעָה תִּהְיֶה הָאַהֲבָה אִם מְעַט מְעַט וְאִם הַרְבֵּה הַרְבֵּה. לְפִיכָךְ צָרִיךְ הָאָדָם לְיַחֵד עַצְמוֹ לְהָבִין וּלְהַשְׂכִּיל בְּחָכְמוֹת וּתְבוּנוֹת הַמּוֹדִיעִים לוֹ אֶת קוֹנוֹ כְּפִי כֹּחַ שֶׁיֵּשׁ בָּאָדָם לְהָבִין וּלְהַשִּׂיג כְּמוֹ שֶׁבֵּאַרְנוּ בְּהִלְכוֹת יְסוֹדֵי הַתּוֹרָה:
(6) It is a well-known and clear matter that the love of God will not become attached within a person's heart until he becomes obsessed with it at all times as is fitting, leaving all things in the world except for this. This was implied by the command [Deuteronomy 6:5: "Love God, your Lord,] with all your heart and all your soul.
One can only love God [as an outgrowth] of the knowledge with which he knows Him. The nature of one's love depends on the nature of one's knowledge! A small [amount of knowledge arouses] a lesser love. A greater amount of knowledge arouses a greater love.
Therefore, it is necessary for a person to seclude himself in order to understand and conceive wisdom and concepts which make his creator known to him according to the potential which man possesses to understand and comprehend as we explained in Hilchot Yesodei HaTorah.
(6) What is the essence of the story of the Song of Songs, if not the description of a paradoxical and tragic hesitation on the part of the love-intoxicated, anxiety stricken Lover, when the opportunity, couched in majestic awe, presented itself? What is it, if not the deferral of a great and sublime opportunity pregnant with a possibility of which she dreamed, for which she fought, which she sought, and for which she had searched with all the fervor of her soul? The delicate and refined Lover, passion-driven to her fair-eyed Beloved, who in days resplendent in brightness wandered the paths of the vineyards, the mountain ridges, through wheat fields and orchards, and in evenings bathed in the pale light of an enchanting moon or gloomy with darkness passed between the walls in search of her Lover — she returned one rain-stormy night to her tent, tired and weary, and fell asleep. The patter of quick-moving, light footsteps was heard in the stillness of the tent. In that mysterious and strange night, the Beloved for whom she had so hoped and kept watch, suddenly appeared out of the darkness and beckoned at the entrance of her tent. He knocked and pleaded that she open the door for Him. “Listen! My Beloved Is Knocking, saying, ‘Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is drenched with dew, and my locks with the damp of the night’” (Song of Songs 5:2). The great moment for which she had been waiting with such longing came at a time of inattentiveness. The elusive and secretive Beloved, weary of wandering and tribulations, appeared with His curly locks, black eyes, powerful build, and shining countenance. He stood in her doorway and thrust His hand through the hole in the lock, seeking shelter from the dampness of the night. He wanted to recount to her His mighty love, His longing and yearning for a life together filled with desire and joy, and of fulfillment of expectations and realization of dreams. A simple extension of the hand to turn the lock separated the Lover and her Beloved — the great dream from its complete fulfillment. With one leap the Lover could have attained all her life’s desires. “Draw me, we will run after you. … We will be glad and rejoice in you” (Song of Songs 1:4). Deceitful is the heart (Jeremiah 17:9), however, and who can explain it? That very night, sloth, the result of a strange inertia, took hold of the Lover. For one small moment the flame of yearning that burned within her was buried, the mighty desire withered, and her feelings and dreams were silenced. The Lover refused to leave her bed. She did not open the door of her tent to her handsome Beloved. A cruel confusion swept her into forgetfulness and apathy. The Lover became lazy and stubborn, she poured forth countless excuses and pretexts to explain her strange behavior. “I have removed my cloak, how shall I put it on again? I have washed my feet, how shall I soil them?” (Song of Songs 5:3). The Beloved continued to beckon, and as His beckoning became more persistent, so too did the insanity that chilled and tainted the Lover.
(7) So long as the whispering of the Beloved split the hush of the night, so did the heart of the Lover harden. Pleading and patient the Beloved continued to beckon while the minutes and hours of the clock were ticking away. The Lover did not respond to the voice of the Beloved. The door to her tent was locked shut. The opportunity was lost, and the vision of an exalted life died. True, after a brief delay the Lover awoke from her slumber and jumped in haste from her bed to greet the Beloved. “I rose up to open to my Beloved” (Song of Songs 5:5), but the leap came too late. The Beloved had stopped beckoning and had disappeared into the darkness of the night, “My Beloved had turned away, and was gone” (Song of Songs 5:6). The joy of her life was exiled. Her existence became a desert, a storehouse of emptiness. The episodes of feverish search returned. She, the Lover, still wanders through the dwellings of the shepherds seeking her Beloved.