REVIEW: Torah Goes Forth From Zion
Zachary Truboff, Torah Goes Forth From Zion: Essays on the Thought of Rav Kook & Rav Shagar (Torat Emet Press), 266 pages
There can be no doubt that nearly nine decades after his passing, Rav Kook remains the predominant figure in the world of Religious Zionist thought. In more contemporary times, the teachings of Rav Shagar have begun to shape the ways religious thought grapples with post-modernism, and has influenced the community’s engagement on a wide range of topics, from Hasidut to academic Talmud scholarship. In his new collection of essays, Torah Goes Forth From Zion, Rabbi Zachary Truboff admirably presents the thought of these formidable thinkers to the English reading public.
At first blush, one might wonder about Truboff’s motivation for treating his two subjects in one volume. He compares both to the second-century sage Rabbi Meir, reminding us that the great Tanna held somewhat controversial position by choosing to learn from the excommunicated Elisha ben Abuye, also known as Aher. The decision to follow Aher carried consequences. “God would teach in the name of all the other rabbis, but refused to do so in the name of Rabbi Meir” (Hagiga 15b, explaining why R. Meir’s mishnaic comments appear largely anonymously). Truboff suggests that “the same can be said of Rav Kook and Rav Shagar, who followed in his footsteps. Despite their acknowledged brilliance, many felt that their ideas were beyond the pale of Orthodoxy. Their attempts to reconcile the Torah with modern life,” and ideas viewed by the mainstream as being “other,” were as misguided as R. Meir learning from Aher. This led some to see the teachings of Rav Kook and Shagar as being “deviant” or at least “untraditional.” But, like R. Meir, “the teachings of Rav Kook and Rav Shagar have found their place…Their writings reveal holiness that exists even when unseen by others, and their radical vision for Religious Zionism shines light in the darkness” (13).
Rav Kook formulated what many see as the underpinning of Religious Zionist theology. In a radical break from his eastern European yeshiva experience, he produced a philosophical framework that offered theological justification for modern Zionism, leading toward the creation of the State of Israel, and granting it religious and spiritual significance. A half-century and more later, R. Shimon Gershon Rosenberg (1949-2007), known universally as Rav Shagar, began to respond to Rav Kook’s ideas in a world where the religious meaning of the State and traditional values faced challenges. Truboff presents Rav Shagar as an heir to the search for meaning which appears in Rav Kook’s work. Whether Rav Shagar will attain and maintain the status of Rav Kook seems unlikely, but it is often difficult to predict how thinkers and their ideas will attain pride of place within larger trends in Jewish thought. Yet when examined side by side we come to appreciate that they both address similar issues, such as relating to the non-Orthodox world and speaking to the younger generation of religious Zionists searching for a new religious paradigm. In this way, Truboff’s decision to combine essays on both thinkers in this one volume works well and allows us to gain new insights into his two subjects. These two radical thinkers can be viewed as complementary and encountering them in succession gives the reader a view of the development of ideas within a slice of the Israeli Religious Zionist community.
Truboff presents an array of Rav Kook’s ideas in seven enjoyable and easy-to-read chapters. In broad essays which convey a taste of Rav Kook’s massive corpus, Truboff covers issues such as HaRav’s understanding of history, attitude to Zionism, problems in early twentieth-century Orthodoxy, Messianism, changing times, prayer, the role of art in Judaism, and relations to gentiles.
Truboff offers concise and helpful summaries of what he sees as burning issues for Rav Kook. For example, regarding the arts and creativity, Truboff explains, “for Rav Kook, the intensity of the creative experience depends on three factors. One must be intellectually and spiritually free rather than bound by the thoughts and ideas of others. One must purify one’s heart by cleansing oneself of negative or destructive feelings while at the same time strengthening one’s capacity for emotion. Lastly, the desire for creativity must be animated by a desire for holiness” (103-104).
Truboff demonstrates that Rav Kook’s critique of modern society offers a challenge to the Jewish State. In modern society, “another person is not to benefit from that which is mine or to touch that which is mine because feelings of selfishness and ego are strong and unwieldy.” Truboff explains that “the selfish individualism at the heart of modern society generates constant conflict and competition that defines contemporary life. This is not limited to individuals but ‘causes those separated into nations into war with each other without compassion.’ Just as individuals attempt to accumulate wealth and power at the expense of others, so too nations do the same…. Rav Kook understood that a kind of moral blindness often accompanies the violence fueled by nationalism’s egoism. The tribalist instincts that drive nationalism tend only to be concerned with whether an action will be good or bad for members of the group” (65).
If nationalism is so dangerous, what about Zionism? To understand Rav Kook’s approach, we need to recognize the foundational texts which shape his views. Unlike some readers of Rav Kook, Truboff is well aware of the many kabbalistic and mystical texts underlying Rav Kook’s thought. Regarding Zionism and the problem of selfishness, Rav Kook relied on kabbalistic theology.
The key to overcoming Zionism’s internal contradictions was to be found in the common root of nationalism and universalism: self-love. How can self-love coexist with – or even lead to – Judaism’s universal horizon, and what might be the implications for Zionism? Rav Kook attempts to resolve this tension with a fascinating letter. He argues that universal love only becomes possible by recognizing that all creation is interconnected. Our ego may tell us that we are separate and distinct from all other creatures, but a deeper divine reality unites all aspects of creation together as one….as the Zohar says, ‘There is no place devoid of Him’ and ‘He fills all worlds’ (65-66).
R. Avraham Yitzhak HaKohen Kook
Awareness of Rav Kook’s kabbalistic source material gives this work a sense of seriousness, sometimes lacking in some presentations of Rav Kook’s writings. Delving into Rav Kook’s sources, Truboff clarifies Rav Kook’s ideas for the English reader lacking a background in mystical works.
According to the author, Rav Kook is not only a twentieth-century theoretician but offers models of contemporary spirituality. About prayer, Truboff explains, “a sense of penimiyut [inwardness] is only possible if one has an inner world that is not shared with others in an attempt to gain attention or validation…for our prayer to be successful, we must find ways to escape the incessant need for social acceptance and recover the sense of inwardness that enables genuine kavvanah (spiritual intention). Rav Kook’s teaching on prayer can serve as a model” (112-113).
Truboff presents several issues which Rav Kook addressed in a manner that clarifies as well as conveys how they are relevant to contemporary life. “Rav Kook’s words retain such great insight even after many years because they stem from a theological vision that internalizes essential facts about human nature. While the Enlightenment attempted to locate reason and the intellect at the center of human life, Rav Kook understood that feeling and imagination are often more powerful” (123).
Despite his deep appreciation for Rav Kook, Truboff doesn’t shy away from some critical assessment of his subject. He questions the relevance of Rav Kook’s interpretation of history given the optimistic streak in his thought that caused him to interpret past horrors as harbingers of future improvement instead of warning signs of even greater atrocities to come—including the Holocaust, which Rav Kook did not, or could not, foresee. Truboff states, “When all is said and done, the most enduring aspect of Rav Kook’s approach to history may not be its predictive power but its deep grasp of the human condition” (56). Further, when discussing universalism, Truboff declares, “as was often the case, Rav Kook offers no practical guidance for how a political community could undertake the radical moral and spiritual transformation he describes” (69). Truboff notes the difficulty of finding a systematic philosophy, “it is clear that Rav Kook’s unique teachings rarely emerged systematically. Rather they were spontaneously inspired and could occur at any time and any place” (101).
Rav Kook’s approach to so many issues was unique, and he strayed from the trodden path. In discussing art and literature, areas eschewed by most rabbis but embraced by Rabbi Kook, Truboff notes that he “understood that genuine creativity requires skating along the edge of the abyss. Nothing truly new can be created without a willingness to move beyond and perhaps demolish the status quo” (108). Due to the limited size of the work, and the broad approach of the essays, one sometimes gets the feeling that Rav Kook’s ideas are offered up while standing on one leg, but taken as a whole these essays are an exemplary presentation for those English readers interested in a birds-eye-view of some of Rav Kook’s worldview.
Even more than in the section on Rav Kook, in the second half of the book dealing with the thought of Rav Shagar, Truboff shows a profound personal acquaintance and understanding of his subject. For several years, Truboff served as the director of the English-speaking program, Zerufim, a project of Rav Shagar’s Yeshivat Siach Yitzchak in Efrat.
Studying Rav Shagar presents many of the same problems as Rav Kook and in some ways even more. Rav Shagar’s writings lack the wide acceptance that Rav Kook’s Torah has gained over the past century. Rav Shagar embraces the works of Hasidut, modern academic scholarship, and post-modernism based on his reading of Ludwig Wittgenstein, Jacques Derrida, Michel Foucault, Jean-François Lyotard, and others.
At present, a small group of readers is acquainted with his writings in the original and even fewer in English. As of late, many works of Rav Shagar have been published posthumously. A small selection of his writings has been translated into English. Many religious thinkers have rejected post-modernism and its seeming challenge to classical narratives and the meaning of Truth. Both Rav Kook and Rav Shagar rely on secular philosophy. Yet, one gets the feeling that those embraced by Shagar are rejected even in Modern Orthodox circles. Furthermore, some notable figures in the Religious Zionist yeshivot consider Rav Shagar’s ideas highly problematic. R. Aharon Lichtenstein, one of my teachers, called Rav Shagar’s understanding of halakha an “exercise in narcissism.” So not only does Truboff have to contend with the difficulty of Rav Shagar’s thought, but he must also contend with the question of why we should care.
Truboff dedicates eight chapters to Rav Shagar, discussing his readings of Hasidut (especially Rebbe Nahman of Breslov), post-modernism, the nature of language and the language games of Wittgenstein, the nature of halakha, and his difficulty with Zionism and fanaticism. This part of the book seems to be more personal. One feels that Truboff is not simply presenting Rav Shagar’s struggles and theology—but also Truboff’s own.
Whereas the section on Rav Kook seemed to be more of an outsider’s objective perspective, the Rav Shagar essays are anything but disinterested scholarship.
While still young and somewhat naïve, I imagined the synagogue to be a place immune to the pressures of the market…however, during my years as a synagogue rabbi, I realized that synagogues are no different from any other institution under modern capitalism…. I was plagued by a constant temptation to treat synagogue members differently based on their wealth and often felt that spending countless hours pursuing donations was hurting my ability to help those who needed me the most…. [R]abbis do not like to speak about these parts of the job, but years of tending to the spiritual needs of others taught me an important truth: failing to talk about difficult problems inevitably tightens their grip on us. It was not until encountering the teachings of Rabbi Nahman of Breslov through the interpretive lens of Rav Shagar that I found a religious voice who could articulate these concerns (239).
This autobiographical approach to the theological discussions of Rav Shagar lends a warm and engaging tone to the essays. In addition, Truboff’s personal affinity for Rav Shagar’s approach to theology answers the question of meaning. For Truboff, Rav Shagar’s thought is a compelling vision of modern Judaism. It is one man’s embrace of one other man’s Judaism.
Rav Shagar challenges contemporary accepted theology and religious experience. Rav Shagar fought, lost close friends, and was severely injured in the Yom Kippur war. His trauma plays a role in several essays and led to his questioning of accepted Zionist ideologies. “The national catastrophe of the war, combined with Rav Shagar’s personal tragedy, challenged many truths he has long taken for granted. It raised questions for which he had no answers, and though people have long justified the costs of war by appealing to political or religious ideologies, he found himself unable to do so” (207).
The withdrawal from Gaza, the settler movement, and post-modern questions of meaning all come together in a profound search for personal religious meaning. “Trauma leaves scars, and while scars are a sign of healing, they never fully disappear. For Rav Shagar, the scars he bore on his body and soul were a constant reminder that life’s most difficult questions elude simple answers” (207).
In chapter 13, my favorite in the book, Truboff compares the understandings of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik and Rav Shagar of the nature of halakha as a form of language.
[In Halakhic Man] Rabbi Soloveitchik’s breathtaking analysis derives from a fundamental correlation he makes between halakhah and mathematics. While usually not thought of in this way, math too is a language. Its signs and symbols convey clear meanings, and its grammar is built upon well-established logical rules. Just as words can be combined into sentences, math’s signs and symbols can also be combined into equations (228).
R. Shimon Gershon Rosenfeld (Rav Shagar)
Truboff finds R. Soloveitchik’s analogy lacking. “The difficulty with Rabbi Soloveitchik’s approach is that spoken languages differ from mathematics in significant ways. While mathematics may have objective rules that an expert can determine, it is intuitively felt that a spoken language belongs to all those who speak its words, and defies easy objectification” (232). Whereas the Rav uses math as a metaphor, Rav Shagar chooses the intimacy of spoken communication between people. In the end, Truboff champions Rav Shagar’s metaphor that halakha is an act of communication through human language. “Because Rav Shagar understands halakhah to be a spoken language, he makes a similar critique of Rabbi Soloveitchik’s conception of halakhah and argues that it fails to embrace the subjective dimension of human experience” (232). Clearly, Truboff favors Rav Shagar’s reading. “An ideal, a priori halakhah may be appropriate for angels but not for human beings” (233). Where the analysis of Rav Shagar ends and the theology of Truboff begins seems to be one and the same. I find his understanding of Rav Shagar compelling. This essay alone makes the volume worth reading.
Truboff acknowledges R. Lichtenstein’s harsh critique of Shagar’s thought. He responds that a broader reading shows that Rav Shagar agrees with R. Lichtenstein that one needs a fundamental acceptance of halakha. “One familiar with Rav Shagar’s writings would be surprised by this accusation because he [Rav Shagar] repeatedly emphasizes that inner subjective feelings alone cannot be a permanent foundation for religious life” (162). Truboff quotes support from Rav Shagar’s writings that the Shulhan Arukh, not vague inner feelings, must be the source of religious obligation. “For Rav Shagar, kabbalah atzmit is not a function of whether one finds the Torah meaningful. Rather it means that one is bound to the Torah and cannot live without it. This awareness emerges as a sense of obligation, albeit not one exclusively derived from God’s commanding authority. Instead, it comes from the understanding that the Torah is part of and beyond every Jew” (162). Here too, Truboff seems to almost blur the lines between Rav Shagar and his own theology. Rav Shagar’s approach is meaningful because it speaks to people, like Truboff himself, who are searching for a new language to make sense of modern Jewish problems.
Like the first section of essays, these are very readable. Furthermore, the second section presents a more comprehensive approach to the source material. Truboff’s acquaintance with the entire corpus of Rav Shagar’s writing is impressive, and he seems clearly at home. Throughout this section, he quotes from almost the entire library of Rav Shagar’s writings.
The essays seem so approachable due to the writing style. The book hovers between an academic presentation and rabbinic essays. In the chapters on Rav Shagar, Truboff presents quite a bit of autobiographical material and few secondary sources. For instance, when discussing the nature of halakha, he returns several times to his family’s crisis. “Halfway into what was already a complicated pregnancy, we discovered that the identical twin boys my wife was carrying had a rare disease… In our darker moments, the language of halakhah provided guidance, brought holiness into our lives, and even sustained our world in the face of collapse” (221). Throughout the essay he interweaves the technical-theological discussion with the painful and personal battle and ultimate loss of the twins:
Since the onset of modernity, religious language has played a far lesser role than it once did in shaping our experience of the world, and new languages have emerged to take its place. The language of science has become dominant because it has dramatically increased our ability to understand the world and manipulate it to our benefit, modern medicine being perhaps its greatest achievement… My wife and I experienced this first-hand during our ordeal with the twins… The most challenging moment arrived when we raised the question on terminating the pregnancy. Until then, we relied almost entirely upon the advice of doctors and specialists regarding how to proceed. However, when we asked for guidance on such an important issue, they made clear they had no answers and that we were on our own. As I sat beside my wife in stunned silence, I remember feeling as if a chasm had opened up beneath our feet, and the two of us were perched precariously on its edge. We were able to regain our footing but only by turning to the language of halakhah. It provided us with a “home” at the very moment when we felt adrift (226-227).
The tragedy of loss and the nature of the language of halakha to ease the Truboffs’ pain gives a human element to what could have been an abstract, philosophical discussion.
Even when tilting autobiographical, one gets the feeling of reading a rabbi, not an academic. For instance, when describing Rav Shagar’s approach to post-modernism, Truboff writes as if delivering a sermon:
One of the most important aspects of having a home is that it creates the possibility of bringing others inside it. Without a place to call one’s own, the act of hospitality is simply not possible. This is perhaps most obvious on Shabbat when one feels a special connection to one’s home and makes efforts to invite others inside of it. Hosting a Shabbat meal is not simply about providing food for those who are hungry; rather, the host seeks to transform the relationship of those in attendance (170).
This approach is less dry while not sacrificing analysis. On the other hand, it sometimes blurs the lines between the author and the subject. Some discussions veer away from the two central figures. This movement at times hindered my appreciation for the main topic. For instance, when Truboff laments Rav Kook’s lack of method or plan, he presents the writing of Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler. As mentioned above, he observes that despite the implications of Rav Kook’s thought on Jewish polity, he never offered a road map for how his ideas might be carried out into practice. How was the nation revived in its own land meant to achieve the “moral and spiritual transformation” he envisioned? “However,” suggests Truboff, “the teachings of another twentieth-century Jewish thinker may be of assistance” (69). While R. Dessler’s discussions of love and kindness are as beautiful as they are well-known, I didn’t feel that this added to my understanding of Rav Kook. Given that the essays presented are rabbinic and not academic, that choice might make sense; however, I feel something was lost by this and similar additions or digressions.
The individual sections of the book end a bit abruptly. Concluding chapters wrapping up the points of the various essays and synthesizing the discussions of Rav Kook and Rav Shagar would help to give the work a more holistic framing. Furthermore, the book lacks both a bibliography and an index. The lack of those tools limits its usefulness. If we want to return to a subject, we are lost without those devices.
In the final analysis, Torah Goes Forth From Zion: Essays on the Thought of Rav Kook & Rav Shagar is a very approachable work that presents complex material clearly and enjoyably. Truboff’s ability to introduce unfamiliar Hebrew teachings in translation in a way that can be appreciated by an English-reading audience is impressive. For those seeking an entry point to the works of Rav Kook and especially Rav Shagar, but unable to access them in their original texts, Truboff’s project is highly recommended. Rabbi Truboff’s erudition, love of the subject matter, and engaging rabbinic style create a pleasurable work that illuminates as much as it informs.
Rabbi Todd Berman is the Director of Institutional Advancement and a Ram at Yeshivat Eretz HaTzvi in Jerusalem.