Entering Rav Kook’s Inner Chambers
When Hadarav, Rav Kook’s slim volume of personal meditations, was first published in 1998, it was seen as a revolution.[1] It appeared a year before the publication of Shemona Kevatzim, his notebooks that served as the raw material from which many of his posthumous works were compiled, as well as some which appeared in his lifetime. On the occasion of the release of the Bezalel Naor’s English translation of Hadarav: His Inner Chambers, in a bilingual edition (Maggid Books & Orot, 2024), I would like to explore the revolutionary character of the book, its impact upon its initial publication in Hebrew, and reflect on its import for our contemporary moment.
Hadarav was revolutionary in four interrelated ways. First, it was the debut volume in the slew of publications that brought material from Rav Kook’s literary archives to Hebrew readership. Admittedly, photocopies of various sections of Rav Kook’s writings had been circulating for several years, but this was the first time they were published in book form (one of the publishers, a young student named Boaz Ofen, was also on the team that released Shemona Kevatzim a year later). In a 1998 Hebrew article about the book, I predicted that its arrival would catalyze the release of many other Rav Kook manuscripts, as it indeed did. I will not deal with this aspect of Hadarav’s publication here, as it concerns the much broader issue of the impact of the emergence of Rav Kook’s manuscripts into public view.[2] Second, and most important, is that it reveals a new, personal facet of Rav Kook, which underlies his religious thought, creativity, and vision. Until Hadarav’s publication, this aspect of Rav Kook was only sparsely present, receiving brief recognition in the biographical works by R. Moshe-Zvi Neria and in Orot ha-Ra’aya, edited by R. Zvi Yehuda Kook. Third, the book was distinguished through its compact, lighter format and through its design aesthetics, including the cover image of Rav Kook. Fourth, it was not published by Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav or entitles in its direct orbit, but by a group of young students from Yeshivat Ramat Gan led by Ran Sarid, who was 23 at the time.
The Ramat Gan yeshiva was established in 1994 and has been headed by R. Yehoshua Shapira since its founding. At the time, the yeshiva represented and contributed to the new trends then taking place in the Religious-Zionist world. Alongside Merkaz HaRav’s nationalistic-ideological nature and its spinoffs (known today as the “Kav” yeshivot; i.e., those that toe a certain “line”), and the conservative nature of other yeshivot such as Kerem B’Yavneh and Sha’alvim, there arose a new strand of “Hasidic” yeshivot, which emphasized individuality and spirituality. Ramat Gan, along with Otniel and Rav Shagar’s Yeshivat Siach Yitzchak, integrated Hasidic study into the standard yeshiva curriculum and encouraged a combination of personal-individualistic seeking and artistic creativity. Other expressions of this trend can be found in the popularity of R. Yitzhak Ginzburg’s teachings, in the newfound engagement with Mei ha-Shilo’ah and the teachings of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, in the religious poetry of the Mashiv ha-Ru’ah group, and in the treks to India and the Far East.
Given the state of the field at the time, the Ramat Gan yeshiva introduced a new variety of learning, with the study of Rebbe Nachman’s writings and Ishbitzer Hasidism occupying a central place. Tefilla is undertaken with great enthusiasm, with Carlebach-style minyanim on Shabbat that feature ecstatic and energetic dancing. The scholarly-critical component of the traditional model, on the other hand, occupies a more limited space. The yeshiva’s journal, Peri Etz ha-Gan, is distinctive not for its analytical rigor but for the expression it gives to the students’ personal creativity.
While the editor of Hadarav, as well as other students, arrived in Ramat Gan from Merkaz HaRav, the book presents an orientation divergent from that of Merkaz. It does not deal with Rav Kook’s nationalistic thought, but rather portrays him as a mystic with a complex personality whose philosophy is motivated by creativity and a desire for self-expression. In this sense, the editors of Hadarav uncovered a new individualistic aspect, one that undergirds Rav Kook’s affinity for Hasidic thought.
This element of Rav Kook’s worldview was essential to the revolution that took place in Israeli society shortly thereafter: a transition from a society mobilized by a strong national, collectivist identity, to one that emphasized the individual and his well-being. This transformation took place coincided with Israel’s increasing affluence. A poignant expression of this development is the photograph of singer Aviv Gefen in 1992 with the inscription “It is good to die for ourselves” painted on his chest (a play on Trumpeldor’s slogan, “It is good to die for our country”). This change in the national ethos did not completely elude the Religious Zionist public, although its impact was less intense.
Even the design of the book, which stood in contrast to the spartan look of Rav Kook’s books published up to that time, expressed the search for a more individualistic world. The importance of Hadarav was not only in revealing an unknown layer of his thought, but in presenting his philosophy in a new aesthetic; indeed, with the publication of Shemona Kevatzim a year after Hadarav, this design innovation became a prevalent new trend. Since this wave of books has not yet been fully translated, the new bilingual edition of Hadarav serves as a gateway to the individualistic component to Rav Kook’s Torah for English readership.
Most of Rav Kook’s most well-known books were not written by him, or were only done so in part. For example, despite his great desire to compose a philosophy of repentance, he only managed to write the first three chapters, perhaps the least significant in the book. The remainder was assembled by his son R. Zvi Yehuda, from his father’s notebooks. His great student, R. David HaKohen (the Nazir), crafted the Orot ha-Kodesh volumes from these notebooks under Rav Kook’s direction. In doing so, they constructed his image as a groundbreaking religious thinker and philosopher. But the notebooks themselves, far from depicting Rav Kook’s systematic philosophy, are intimate spiritual diaries of Rav Kook’s private ruminations. For the first time, Hadarav allowed a glimpse into those diaries, and into Rav Kook’s inner world that serves as the basis of his thought.
The Nazir’s editing of the diaries into Orot ha-Kodesh was intended to distill Rav Kook’s philosophical-kabbalistic worldview. Therefore, Rav Kook’s first-person writings were translated into general, depersonalized language. Hadarav, however, reverts to the first person voice in which the text was originally written, and presents its genuine context. As the editor beautifully observes:
[D]espite the fact that in all the writings of the Rav his personal character is discernible, and essentially, his entire Torah is a personal diary, [revealing] a figure that embraces the world with a universalism and a love for all, nevertheless, there is something special about those paragraphs in which the Rav expresses his experiences in an openly personal manner (xi).
Three new elements of Rav Kook’s character are revealed in this book, and all of them are related to the previously described new spirit in the religious community: the personal-individual aspect, mysticism, and the consciousness of being a Tzaddik in the style of Rebbe Nachman.
Already in Orot ha-Kodesh and Arpelei Tohar, the latter being the second of Shemona Kevatzim, one can find personal passages, dealing mainly with spiritual experiences and tendencies. But in Hadarav we find a personal approach even in dealing with more “general” issues. In many passages, Rav Kook’s overwhelming sense of the redemption’s immanence is manifest, and his personal hopes for God’s revelation are linked to these general hopes. Sometimes, those personal aspirations are replaced by concerns for the entirety of the Jewish people. For example, his desire for the coming of redemption and his ability to overcome the oppressive silence of exile—the Kabbalistic notion of “the redemption of speech from the exile”—are both universalistic in nature. When he was abroad, he longed to return to the Land of Israel, as a place from which he derives joy, holiness, inner peace, truth, etc. In an emotional passage he reflects:
Within my soul of souls, out of the lifeline by which I am connected to all of you, and all of you are connected to me; out of the feeling that I sense deeper than all of the feelings of my life – that you, only you, only your entirety, your collective, all of your souls, all of your generations, only you are the contents of my life. In you, I live; in the collectivity of all of you, I have the content called “life.” Without you, I have nothing. All the hopes, all the aspirations, all that makes life worthwhile, I find everything within me only with you. And I need to connect with the souls of all of you. I must love you with an unending love. I cannot feel any other way. All the loves, small and large, on all life’s ways – all are stored in your love, in your collective love – the collective in which all of you individuals exist and live. Every one of you, every individual soul, is a great and important spark of a cosmic torch that enlightens my life. You give me content for life, for [spiritual] service, for Torah, for prayer, for song, for hope (175).
This point is particularly important: For Rav Kook, love is neither a commandment nor an ideology; it is an existential experience. In one section, Rav Kook’s concept of virtue, emphasizing the inner experience rather than external deeds, transforms from a justification for an inclusive attitude towards the secular into a basis for personal empowerment:
It is not enough that others do not recognize me; I myself do not recognize myself. How much I must fight against myself in order to hold to the inner belief in the greatness of my soul! And this greatness is not related to deeds; [the soul] is great in and of itself, its gift. [The soul] is free, and all the learning and commandments only explain to her a bit of her value (11, 13).
Sections like these give space for one’s personality in a time when many were attempting to break free from the Israeli collectivity. They make it possible to plumb Rav Kook’s teachings for personal guidance, a project that, as mentioned, gained momentum with the publication of Shemona Kevatzim.
Additionally, the mystical and visionary aspects of Rav Kook were revealed in full force for the first time through these books, having been absent in the portrait created by R. Zvi Yehuda and his students. For example, we discover that redemption is not only a spiritual and historiosophical concept, but a vision revealed to Rav Kook (7).[3] A fascinating example is Rav Kook’s discussion of the “souls in the body”—the concept that redemption will come when all souls destined for earthly bodies have been placed in them (Yevamot 62a). In the original passage, it is a personal vision: “I see a world full of old souls, souls in the body…” (88–90). But in the edited Orot ha-Kodesh passage (III, p. 368): “We see a world full of old souls, souls in the body.” That is, the Nazir’s slight edit transforms a personal vision to a general-philosophical statement. Several passages in the book demonstrate this form of editing, when singular first-person writing is switched to plural. Hadarav similarly contains too few passages on the topic of Rav Kook’s attempts to reach prophecy, a subject examined in depth by Dov Schwartz in the context of the diaries of the Nazir and other students.[4]
The personal visions of Rav Kook as presented in Hadarav reveal a portrait of a mystic and a seer. This portrait made Rav Kook relevant again when New Age trends gained traction in Israeli society in the 1990s, and sparked a growing interest in mysticism. As we have seen, one of the most prominent manifestations of this was the revival of Hasidism, particularly the interest in Religious Zionist circles in Rebbe Nachman. Hadarav reveals the deep connection between the character of Rebbe Nachman and that of Rav Kook.
R. Neria reported that Rav Kook claimed: “I am the soul of Rebbe Nachman.”[5] However, before Hadarav was published, this comparison seemed groundless. It is difficult to argue that his thought derives more from Rebbe Nachman than from Maharal, Sefat Emet, Chabad Hasidut, etc. A perusal of the personal sections in Shemona Kevatzim, which, as mentioned, Hadarav was the opening window, clarifies the picture. It is interesting to note that R. Zvi Yehuda, who did not generally identify with his father’s attachment to Hasidism, wrote about these personal passages: “These are things of a special kind, a projection from above, sometimes even puzzling and strange… a special kind of uncommon exploration, except for within the writings of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov—the revelation of personal matters, even very great matters.”[6]
Hadarav reveals that Rav Kook’s spiritual make-up is characterized by sharp transitions between a sense of greatness and a sense of nothingness in a way that is indeed characteristic of Rebbe Nachman.[7] For example:
One should not oppose the essential soul when it is revealed, and its revelation is frequent. Even at a time when clouds cover the brilliance of [the soul’s] light, it is shining with all its might, and it carries the world and man to the goal of his happiness, which is beyond any goal that can be named. The soul thinks without thought, acts without action. With the soul – and only with the soul – we ascend to those levels that life in its mysterious depths pushes us to. “Then you shall delight beyond (‘al) the Lord.” This is the secret of my thirst and the mystery of my satiation (23).
As well as:
I need to believe very much in my good side; in my point of holiness; in the wellspring of wisdom that the Holy One, blessed be He, showers on me, through the holiness of the letter of the Torah that belongs to me; in the power of my deep feeling of holiness and of love of humanity and love of Israel; in my connection to concern for the World to Come and the spiritual life in my inwardness of inwardness. And all of this true belief will not cause me to forget any of my lowliness and my [spiritual] impoverishment, my lightness and my ignorance, my unworthiness, my broken-heartedness, my self-revulsion, my utter shame (69).
Rav Kook employs the same concept of the “tzaddik” that is apparent in Rebbe Nachman, who saw himself as the center of a spiritual world:[8]
My soul aspires to penetrate its inner chambers. I discover that whatever I strive to raise up from the light of the Torah and from the light of the world – the roots of the pure objectives must be found in the depths of the soul itself, whose light is derived from the light of the Torah and the splendor of the world (5).
One does not acquire any excellence other than from one’s midst, from one’s inner essence – not from the external, for accidents do not produce true happiness. But the Torah and the commandments are the essence of happiness, and do they not come to one from outside? However, when we examine, we find that one apprehends of the Torah and the commandments only that which is hidden in one’s interior (9).
And another section that merges these two spiritual inclinations:
I am full of happiness, full of greatness, full of lowliness, full of bitterness, full of pleasantness, full of joy, full of love, full of envy, full of anger, full of lovingkindness, full of goodness to all. “Happy is a man who listens to me.” Happy is one who credits me with the inner value that behooves me according to my peculiar treasure. He will be uplifted, raised beyond all poverty, will become sanctified and purified, and the Lord God [will be] with him (65).
This connection between Rebbe Nachman and Rav Kook, which requires further exploration, has great contemporary significance because Breslov Hasidism uniquely attractive to the intellectual, secular public. I believe that the extensive space given to the individual and his hardships by the contemporary world is the source of Breslov Hasidism’s appeal. These new writings from the archives of Rav Kook may expose him to a public that previously shied away from any engagement with him—those who viewed him as part of an antiquated collective and ideological era, unsensitive of the individual’s inner torments and cravings.
The published sections in Hadarav are among the boldest found in Rav Kook’s manuscripts, and the Hebrew and English publishers should be praised for the courage to publish them.[9]
It is interesting to examine the book’s place over the test of time alongside the current state of American Jewry, to whom this translation is addressed. As mentioned, the release of the Hebrew edition coincided with a turning point in Israeli society and the religious community. However, in the same year as Hadarav’s publication, R. Zvi Tau’s Har HaMor Yeshiva split from Merkaz HaRav, and the trend of the more conservative Yeshivot ha-Kav emerged. Without delving into the change that gradually took place in R. Tau’s teachings, there is no doubt that he grew to view “individuality” as a dangerous trend. The question of the centrality of the self in the service of God, alongside that of mysticism and creativity, became a line of demarcation between the two camps in the Religious Zionist public: the Hardal—a portmanteau of haredi and dati leumi—and their opponents. It is interesting to note that, over time, the Ramat Gan yeshiva drifted closer to the Hardal/Kav camp. Hadarav failed to become a central work for the anti-Hardal camp. Rather, they increasingly turned to Hasidism rather than re-embracing Rav Kook, leading the latter’s teachings to become monopolized by the Kav leadership. Beyond the issue of the general attitude to individualism, the Kav rabbis claim that even Rav Kook’s Torah cannot be studied independently; only his son and students, R. Zvi Yehuda and his successors, can offer a definitive interpretation of Rav Kook’s teachings.
For the religious public in America, however, Hadarav offers a new message. This is because Rav Kook’s nationalistic teachings are less immediately relevant to them and also because the Hardal’s anti-individualist stance has almost no influence on them. In fact, the rise of individualism and its spiritual emphases that took place in Israel in the 1990s emerged in the America-Jewish world almost a generation earlier. This may explain why Rabbi Soloveitchik’s existentialist teachings had such an impact. These factors suggest that the translation of Hadarav will contribute to a wider reception of Rav Kook’s teachings in the English-speaking world.
Dr. Zohar Maor teaches modern history at the Bar-Ilan University and edits the writings of Rav Shagar.
[1] The first edition of the book was published in Adar 5758 (1998), with 127 numbered passages over 192 pages, and the editor was careful not to reveal that the material originated in Rav Kook’s unpublished notebooks. In Elul 5762 (2002), the second edition arrived with 164 passages over 238 pages, this time with their sources indicated. In Adar 5768 (2008), an even more expanded, third edition was printed, containing 186 passages and 263 pages. The expansion of the book was connected to the gradual release of additional notebooks beyond the eight of Shemona Kevatzim.
[2] On the publication of Rav Kook’s manuscripts and the controversy it sparked, see Avinoam Rosenak, “Who’s Afraid of Rav Kook’s Hidden Notebooks?” [Hebrew], Tarbiz 69 (2000), 256–291.
[3] Cf. Nidda 13b.
[4] See Dov Schwartz, “The Character and Personality of a Jewish Mystic in Our Time (on the Mystical Diary of the Nazir)” [Hebrew], Tarbiz 61:1 (1992), 127–158.
[5] Moshe Zvi Neria, Hayye ha-Ra’aya (Moriah, 1983), 172. For more on the connection between Rav Kook and Breslov Hasidism, see Moshe Nahmani, Shenei HaMe’orot (Or HaOrot, 2011).
[6] According to R. Zvi Yehuda’s lectures, Iturei Kohanim, edited by Shlomo Aviner, (Elul 5757).
[7] There are several examples of this tendency in Rebbe Nachman’s teachings, e.g.: Likkutei Moharan II:15; Sihot HaRan 153; Hayye Moharan 91, 148, 147, 341.
[8] For example, Likkutei Moharan I 70.
[9] I would like to emphasize that it is precisely these sections that demonstrate the problematic nature of publishing the manuscripts in full. Should we publicize every personal diary of Rav Kook, which those closest to him refrained from publishing? In the passage cited on pp. 95–97, Rav Kook himself debated whether his speculative thoughts rise to the level of divrei Torah, worthy of preserving and perpetuating, or merely personal reflections, for which modesty is preferred.