Ki Tavo: Sins are not Swept Under the Carpet; They are Forgiven

by Rav Haggai Londin, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion is Ki Tavo (Deut. 26,1-29,8), well-known for its list of curses and punishments that are liable to befall a sinful Israel. However, it opens with something totally different: The viduy [confession] that one must say when bringing his annual First Fruits to the Priest in the Holy Temple. Called the Viduy Maasrot (the Tithes Confession), it is recited as follows: "I have removed all the holy [tithes, etc.] from my house, and I have given them to the Levite and foreigner and orphan and widow, in accordance with all the commandments that You commanded me; I did not violate Your mitzvot and I did not forget… I have obeyed G-d's will, and have done all that You have commanded me." (26,13-14)

What is strange here is that the word viduy means "confession," stemming from the root meaning to "acknowledge" or "admit." With a heavy heart, one who says viduy admits to having sinned, and this helps him to deserve forgiveness. Yet in this case, we see that the person doesn’t confess to wrongdoing at all, but rather boasts that he has done everything right!

Self-criticism, and a lack of pride or satisfaction in some of what we have done in life, are without a doubt the key to teshuva (repentance) and improvement. However, sometimes we get so caught up in feelings of that type – criticism not only of ourselves, but of others as well – that we forget an important part of the equation: We're not so bad! We also do good things! And even sometimes when we sin or err, it is only after we have tried our best – and that's saying a lot!

These issues are dependent on our soul's inclinations. If we seek only perfection and absoluteness, then in truth we can easily develop feelings of despair, defeat, and non-forgivingness towards ourselves (in the better case) and towards the world (in a worse scenario). On the other hand, when our stance is one of constant striving for improvement, then we are filled with joy at every improvement we make, even if it falls short of the ultimate goal. We can have compassion on ourselves and forgive.

Thus, compassion leads to forgiveness – unlike in the Western world, where the trait of mercy is associated automatically with "giving in" and concessions. This is why in popular culture today, people are very quick to forgive themselves for various moral failings. However, the Western view is incorrect. Our Sages teach that "whoever says that G-d concedes and gives in [in forgiving us], may his [life] be ceded" (Bava Kama 50a). This means that when we ask for Divine forgiveness, we are not asking that G-d simply overlook our failings and sweep them under the carpet. This would be like a pupil begging his teacher to agree to give him full credit for saying that two and two equals five. The Divine truth must appear in the world.

The Hebrew word for mercy is rachamim, which stems from the word rechem, meaning "womb." The womb is where the fetus develops before birth, where new future life forms. Thus, the ability to be merciful [from the word rechem] and to forgive, both ourselves and those around us, is the ability to give trust, to enable life. We forgive ourselves not as a mere concession, but because we are doing our best. Though at a given moment we may be in a state of failure, we will learn from it and sprout new strengths that will lead us to our desired goal. The ability to forgive ourselves is the capacity to be patient and to understand that all of reality, including us within it, advances slowly and gradually. There are bumps in the road and failures along the way, but the general direction is always forward.

The mature approach understands that there is no such animal as "total victory" in our spiritual struggles. Someone who says, "From now on, I will never make that mistake ever again or commit that sin ever again" – is simply not telling the truth. One can definitely say that starting tomorrow he will improve a bit, and then the next day again, etc. This will help him forgive his failings and be able to live with them appropriately. If this year one was able to concentrate on prayer five minutes more than last year, or set additional study time, or speak less gossip and the like – these are great achievements! They should provide happiness and motivation to continue to make even greater progress. But do not expect absolutes!

RETURNING TO THE SOURCE

The days of this month of Elul are days of repentance and of sounding the shofar – with sounds that cry out to us to "improve!" [Shipur, improvement, is from the same root as shofar.] However, the shofar blast is more than that; it is also the manifestation of the original, Divine voice, the voice echoing from other worlds, splitting the air, reminding us that we belong to a complete universe, very far and beyond our narrow, problematic world.

The shofar is sounded in three stages: first a simple, continuous sound known as tekiah; then shevarim-teruah, which is a combination of broken, staccato sounds; and then another tekiah. This progression represents our lives: Life begins with a continuous, innocent, uncomplicated voice, like a tekiah. From there we descend into the complications of the world, as expressed by the broken-up and interrupted shevarim and teruah sounds. But after all the complications, we return again to the source, to the Divine voice of nature, to another tekiah. The soul returns to its origin, and we remember the perfection that stands at the foundation of our lives; we remember that in truth, we are actually simple and good.

The four stages of teshuva, as the Rambam explains, are: abandoning the sin; regretting the sin; confession; and resolving not to return to the sin. The third stage is viduy, which is not only related to "admission," as we said above, but also to hodayah – saying thanks to G-d. We are grateful to Him for giving us the wherewithal to have done good things this year, and we thank Him for our lives filled with so many great things, and for the ability to use our abilities to do our best: "I have done all that you commanded me" we say in the viduy maasrot – and then, the Torah says, "You shall be happy with all the goodness your G-d has given you and your household and the Levite and foreigner in your midst" (verse 11).

Emuna: Our Two-Pronged Elul Preparations

by the late Chief Rabbi of Israel, Harav Avraham Shapira, Rosh Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav Kook, yeshiva.co, translated by Hillel Fendel.

As we know, the month of Elul is one of arousal to teshuvah [the return to the straight and true Torah path]. The source for this is that before the second set of Tablets were given to Moshe Rabbeinu on Mt. Sinai on Yom Kippur, the shofar was sounded daily throughout the preceding month of Elul. The Rosh and the Tur cite the Pirkei D'Rebbe Eliezer, which states that the Sages mandated that we sound the shofar every day during Elul – in commemoration of the daily Mt. Sinai blasts we heard over the course of more than a month preparing us to receive the Torah for the second time.

That the shofar was sounded during the time of the giving of the Second Tablets tells us of another fundamental aspect of what the shofar means to us. The above-cited Pirkei D'Rebbe Eliezer states:

"On the first day of Elul, G-d told Moshe, 'Ascend to Me on the mountain' (D'varim 10,1) and sound the shofar in the camp – for Moshe climbed the mountain, in order that they not sin again as they did with the Golden Calf, and G-d 'ascended' that same day with the shofar, as is written, 'G-d was exalted with a teruah shofar blast, G-d with the shofar sound' (Tehillim 47,6). And therefore the Sages instituted that we blow the shofar every year [beginning on] the first day of Elul."

And the Tur adds that the purpose of blowing the shofar in Elul is to warn Israel that they must do teshuvah, as is written: "Can it be that a shofar would be sounded in the city and the populace would not be frightened?" (Amos 3,6)

We thus see that two principles are represented in the sounding of the shofar: repentance and fear of the judgement – two different things. The main reason that the Sages instituted nearly a month of daily shofar blasts is certainly to arouse us to repent for the sins that we committed – but in addition, the fact that the shofar was sounded when we received the Torah teaches us that the shofar's task is also to warn us against failing the tests that the Torah places before us. We must not again fall into the trap of the Golden Calf! This second aspect is part of the fear of the Heavenly judgement.

That is to say: We must know, in every generation, that in addition to the very act of repentance, we must also have fear and trembling of the very judgement. For the Prophet Amos said that people cannot but tremble when the shofar is sounded. We must always be prepared to make an accounting of our deeds! 

And especially when Israel appears to be on trial, and we can sense that it is a time of severe judgement – everyone must examine himself and his deeds, and see if and where he is lacking. As the Gemara teaches: "The reason why the Torah passage of Nazirite follows that of the Sotah (Wayward Wife) is to tell us that whoever sees a Sotah in her guilty, wretched state, should take a Nazirite vow against consuming wine" (B'rachot 63a).

The sounding of the shofar before the giving of the Second Tablets teaches us yet another lesson: Forty days before the Giving of the Torah is not too early to prepare for it! Rather, even then one must check his deeds and make sure he is worthy of receiving the Torah. And so throughout this month of Elul, when we hear the shofar, we must review our status and deeds, and the memory of the fear of judgement that we experienced when receiving the Second Tablets must be renewed. This fear is crucial, because it is part of receiving the Torah in purity. As the Sages stated: "The reason why G-d created thunder is to straighten out [via the fear it instills] the crookedness of our heart."

And the recent events in which our terrorist enemy has managed to snuff out additional precious Jewish lives must also arouse us, all of us, to a general and individual accounting for our deeds and where to improve. Let us pray that, inter alia, in the merit of the shofar, we succeed!

Emuna: Try This at Home: Two Proven Methods to Increase Love of G-d

by Rav Yehoshua Shapira, yeshiva.co, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The relative importance of various Torah commandments is determined by factors such as the type of mitzvah, the specified punishment or reward, its emphasis in the verses, etc. From many standpoints, the mitzvah to "love G-d" is the most important mitzvah in the entire Torah. For one thing, there is no other mitzvah that is rooted in so many aspects of our personality: "You shall love Hashem your G-d with all your heart, all your soul, and all your essence" (D'varim 6,5).

Furthermore, the Torah continues there: "These words… shall be on your heart," meaning that our faith in G-d (Shma Yisrael, verse 4), as well as our love for G-d of verse 5, must be on our hearts at all times. We must engrave this on our hearts, to the point that the Torah states "you must speak in them" (verse 7) – from which the Sages derive: "in them, and not in other things." Thus, every word we say must be an outgrowth and offshoot of our love for G-d. 

And if this is not enough, the Torah mandates that these feelings must occupy us from morning to night, in all situations: "When you sit at home" – this is relatively easy – and even "when you walk on your way." That is, even when you face the tribulations lack of concentration of your journey, and when you have to deal with its bothersome details – even then (and especially in times of yore when people traveled in carriages and felt every bump in the road and the extreme weather conditions and the like) – "you must speak in them" and contemplate the subject of your love, namely, G-d. And even "when you go to sleep" – when you are tired after a full day and have no strength to think of anything, even then, "You shall love Hashem your G-d."

Even the "rational" Rambam becomes a fiery Hassid when he speaks of loving G-d [Laws of Repentance, 10,3], comparing it to one who has totally fallen in love with a woman: 

"What is the proper degree of love of God? One should love Him with a very great and strong love, to the point that his soul is bound up in this love and is always involved in it, as if he is lovesick, [one] whose thoughts are never diverted from the love of that woman; he thinks about her all the time - when he sits down, when he gets up, when he eats and drinks. An even greater love than this should be [our] love for God …"

This description sounds like the love that King David had for Hashem. Our Sages said that he slept for very short periods at a time – because something was very much on his mind, as he wrote in his Psalms: "My soul yearns, it pines for the courts of the Lord… to the living God," and "My soul thirsts for You; my flesh longs for You." The intensity of his longing for Hashem would wake him up in the middle of the night, like a man who is so in love that it keeps him up at night and he cannot stop thinking about the object of his love.

But, the question is obvious: How is it possible to attain such a love for Hashem? How can the Torah possibly "command" our hearts to have this feeling, or any feeling? Our heart is an organ that does not take well to being told what to do; even if the Torah commands it to feel love, or to feel hatred, it sees no obligation to obey. This is why it sometimes appears that this mitzvah is only for righteous tzaddikim. 

But in fact, this is not true. Our Torah teaches that not only King David must love Hashem with all his soul; every Jew must live this way. But how? 

We can suggest two approaches, two ideas that can help us come a bit closer to this mitzvah. The first is a teaching of the Baal Shem Tov that sums up most wondrously everything that was said about this topic. He said that the primary aspect of the mitzvah to love G-d is to emplace in our minds thoughts that arouse such feelings of love. That is, working with emotions is, first and foremost, work with the intellect. Just like in marriage, there are things that arouse love, and others that arouse apathy, or even worse; the question is what we choose to concentrate on. Our love begins to erode when we stop thinking about those things that arouse love; we must therefore make time and attention to turn our thoughts to those topics. The same is true for the love of G-d. 

Of course, everyone is different, and what arouses love for one person is not the same for another, and therefore no one can give unambiguous advice on how to "love" one's spouse, or how to love G-d. Rather, each must person must find those things that cause the feelings of love to awaken, and focus on those.

This approach has a Chabad flavor, in that it assumes that the mind can control the emotions. For those who find this approach difficult, here is the second idea. My father summed it up in a few words: "D'veikut [clinging to G-d] is like a contagious disease; go to where large amounts of this virus is found, and breathe in as much as you can." 

He himself did exactly this, going every Sabbath night to Reb Ahareleh's Hassidic gathering in Meah She'arim, even though he did not subscribe to their approach in matters other than d'veikut. He would stand in a corner, sing some of their nigunim, and soak up the atmosphere, just so he could imbibe some of their excitement and love of G-d. 

This second approach utilizes the concept an "atmosphere of holiness." A study was conducted in the United States a number of years ago, to find the most effective way to be mekarev [bring close] Jews to an observant Torah lifestyle. The winner was found to be not Torah study, not Shabbat candles, not being helped to don tefillin in the street – but rather a simple Shabbat meal (!). 

Shabbat meals, more than any other mitzvah, are the pinnacle of the Jewish atmosphere. They have hominess, warmth, closeness, togetherness, food and wine. Today, with the increase of aloneness in the world, where people go to bars simply because they seek company and closeness, what can be more welcome than a nice warm Sabbath meal with others?  

The Shabbat atmosphere is where all sit together, without rushing, with words of Torah, friendliness, a place for everyone, a portion for everyone. The Shabbat meal doesn't take place in a restaurant or in a hall for 500 people, but at home, in an ambience of intimacy and connection, with Shabbat songs and conversation. Can anything be more special?

The idea of "atmosphere" has much to tell us regarding how to teach children the mitzvah of loving G-d. For we all have a question gnawing at us, one that we would never ask aloud: "Does G-d love me? Does He really-really love me?" This is a critical question, because deep down, this is what we really all want: to be loved. 

Famous musicians who perform before thousands of adoring fans seem to able to fulfill this need relatively easily. But in truth, I know from experience that when these performers return home at night from a successful show, they once again feel all alone. The void in their psyche is not filled so easily – because what they, and we, actually long for is not superficial love, but rather the true love, that of G-d. 

By providing a pleasant ambience in which everyone is accepted as he is, and is given the sense that they are loved unconditionally, we give a bit of the type of love that G-d showers upon every Jew. And we must also - primarily! - provide a similar atmosphere for our very own children.

The Rebbe of Slonim, author of Netivot Shalom, used to give a pep talk to the children's teachers in his Hassidut, and would tell them: "When you enter the classroom each day, the first thing you have to do is to look around at the children and see that you love each one of them. This is a basic condition; if not, don't even start teaching. You can't have an influence if you don't love." 

The first method above – thinking thoughts that arouse love – is very important and effective, but no less important is the idea of creating an atmosphere that arouses love. This is a much greater gift than we think, and we should use it abundantly and with all our hearts.

Ki Tetzei: What Ungratefulness Really Tells Us

by Rav Moshe Leib HaCohen Halberstadt , yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion of Ki Tetze (D'varim 21,10-25,19) features very many commandments, including this one: "No Ammonite or Moabite may marry into G-d's congregation, not even the tenth generation … - because they did not welcome you with bread and water on the way when you came out of Egypt... Do not seek their peace or welfare all your days, forever." (23,4-7)

When we compare this mitzvah with the ban on first- and second-generation Egyptian converts, we can only ask in wonderment: The Egyptians, who threw our baby boys into the Nile and then cruelly enslaved us for so many years, are not permanently banned from joining our people (verses 8-9), while the Amonites – who simply committed a sin of omission by not giving us water or bread when we needed it – are banned forever!? And the Edomites, who made war upon us when we left Egypt, are permitted in their third generation, while the Moabites, who simply hired Bil'am to curse us, are permanently barred?! Where is the proportionality?

Rashi apparently sensed this difficulty, and therefore cited the Medrash Sifri. The Medrash derives from the wording of the verse that the Amonites' sin was not merely that they did not give us food and drink, but also that they caused us to sin – and one who harms us spiritually is so much worse than one who merely caused us physical harm. 

Still, however, this is not the plain meaning of the Torah here. The emphasis is certainly on that they did not give us food and drink when we needed it. And so, we must understand what was so terrible about that specific thing that as a result they may not join our people, unlike other nations that actually killed and enslaved us.

The specific sin was "the matter" (al dvar, in Hebrew) of not bringing food to Israel. We know that this was a national thing, for individuals can't be expected to take upon themselves a mission such as this on their own. Can each individual therefore say that he was not to blame? Not at all; the words al dvar (from the root meaning "speak") indicate that the entire nation took counsel among themselves, as is appropriate, and all agreed that they should not bring food to Israel. (The Medrash, too, can be understood to be indicating this.) All the Moabites, too, agreed that hiring Bil'am was a good idea; it was not the idea just of one man. 

What this means is that all of the Moabites and Amonites agreed that what Israel's ancestor Abraham did for their own ancestor, Lot – welcoming him into his home, rescuing him from King K'dorlaomer and his allies, and finding him land – need not be remembered at this critical time. "So what if Avram saved our great-grandfather Lot? We don't owe him or his descendants anything!"

Certainly what the Edomim and Egyptians did to Israel was much worse than simply denying them food. Their deeds as taskmasters in Egypt show their inferior character, and in fact they are not permitted to join Israel before their third generation. But what the Amonites and Moabites did was a conscious decision, by the entire nation, to ignore all the goodness that Avraham had done for Lot! Possibly they did not hurt Israel as badly as the Egyptians did, but the Egyptians did not come close to the perverse ungratefulness and hopelessly irreparable character flaws displayed by the Amonites and Moabites. This is why the Torah tells us to distance ourselves from them forever, and not even to seek their welfare. 

We can learn a lesson along similar lines from King David. On his deathbed, he charged his son Shlomo to "do kindness to the sons of Barzilai the Giladite, and they shall eat at your table, for they came close to me when I was fleeing Avshalom your brother" (Kings I 2,7). 

Why did David wish to reward the Barzilai family so handsomely? Because of the kindness they showed David in "coming close to me when I was fleeing" and bringing him food and drink.

The Chafetz Chaim said that this is hard to understand. Would it not have been sufficient for David to give them generous gifts in recognition of their kindness? Why did he go so far as to invite them to be practically a part of his family, eating at the king's table whenever they wish? 

If we look at David's words carefully, we will understand the story more deeply. He did not say that the Barzilai family brought him close to them in his time of need, but rather that they came close to him in his time of need. Why is this considered a special kindness? 

The Chafetz Chaim explains that if the Barzilites had felt that David was in desperate straits, and that they were helping him because they wished to bring him close as they would to anyone who was suffering – in such a case, they would have deserved generous gifts in return, but not more than that. Certainly there would have been no need to invite them to dine at the royal table at their leisure!

Rather, they saw David not as a "poor guy," a "wretch" of some sort, but as their King, whose servants they are! As such, the Chafetz Chaim wrote, they wished to come close to him, just as David said to Shlomo! They viewed his troubles as impermanent and certainly not something that detracted from his stature in their eyes, and they wished to honor him. For this, it was definitely appropriate for David to honor them substantially!

The virtue of the sons of Barzilai was that when they gave David bread and water, they did not feel that they were doing him a kindness. Rather, they did so out of a sense of coming close to him, and that it was a true privilege for them to help the king when it proved necessary. They truly acted like his servants, and not like someone doling out presents. In return for a good deed of this sort, one that comes with deep recognition of the honor of the royalty, one-time gifts would not be enough. Rather, the Barzilites were to be permanent fixtures at the kingly table. (Based on Hu Hayah Omer, by Rabbi Shalom Schwadron)

A simple act of kindness can tell very much about one's true character, and can even decree his future. The Amon and Moav nations showed their extreme corruption by deciding as one to ignore the kindness shown their ancestor and not bring water and bread to his descendants when they needed it. This is why they may never marry into the Jewish People. On the other hand, the sons of Barzilai exhibited greatness of character and spirit in the way they honored their king at his time of trouble, and were rewarded with closeness to the royal family.

Emuna: Israel - The Fall and Rise, and Fall and Rise

by Rav Dov Lior, yeshiva.co, translated by Hillel Fendel

Israel's sins are superficial, but in truth, we are a light unto the nations

Our Sages teach that if the Israelites had not displayed weaknesses and committed sins during their Sinai Desert journey to the Promised Land, they would have entered the Chosen Land immediately. However, because of their sins – chief among them, the Sin of the Spies – the matter was delayed and they remained in the desert, with all the dire consequences that stemmed thereof.

The famous verse Vay'hi binso'a haaron (Numbers 10,35) marks the beginning of a two-verse passage that is enclosed in the Torah by two brackets: the letter nun upside down on either side. The Sages derived from this that these brackets indicate, among other teachings, that the passage is actually out of place, but was written here simply to interrupt between two sins of Israel. The Ramban explains this slightly differently, namely, that there should not be a series of three consecutive sins – because that would be a chazakah, a "legal presumption" of guilt on the part of Israel. That is, even when Israel sins, this is not something that is permanently imbued in their souls; the sins are rather attached to them externally, while intrinsically, their souls have no propensity to sin. 

The lesson for us in these later generations is that when Israel is on the way to the Land, they are liable to sin and descend from their high spiritual level – especially when they are influenced by the mores of the other nations. If so, how can we ever be ready to be redeemed? 

The answer is that the Divine Torah guarantees that even though we slip up and sin out of weakness sometimes along the way, this is all temporary and transient. Ultimately, the Nation of Israel will return to its original, genuine status, to that which it knows it must be. This point is alluded to by the reversal of the letters nun: Just as an upside-down letter is in an unnatural, temporary state, and will not remain that way for long, the same is true for Israel's unnatural state of sin.

The Sages provide a source for the fact that the letter nun, which stands for nefilah, falling, will not remain that way forever: We know that in our Ashrei prayer, we recite verses in alphabetical order, one verse for each letter – except for one, and that is the letter nun. No verse in Ashrei begins with nun! The Talmud explains that this is because nun stands not only for "falling," but specifically for Israel's falling, as is written: "She has fallen, and will not arise, the virgin of Israel" (Amos 5,2). 

However, the Gemara tells us that in the Land of Israel, this verse was read quite differently: "She fell – but she will no longer do so; arise, o virgin of Israel!" That is, Eretz Yisrael has a special strength of giving life even where there seems to be no potential for such. 

In our current reality, it is sometimes hard to see a solution or a way out of our abnormal and sorry state of affairs. But whoever has faith in the process of Israel's Redemption will not, Heaven forbid, fall into despair or weakness of spirit, simply because we cannot see exactly how the process will work itself out. The return of the Nation of Israel to its Land after so many centuries, and the establishment of its State on a significant part of the Promised Land, fills out heart with confidence and solid hope for a better future. We will pass these difficulties and pangs of Redemption, and in the end, we will merit to see the complete return of our entire nation to the entire Land of Israel, as well as Jewish sovereignty over every part of the Land. 

We will similarly merit to see our nation awaken to know and recognize its singular uniqueness, that we are truly the Chosen Nation. "You chose us from among all the nations," we say in our Festival prayers. We will also understand that we have been tasked with the mission of being a "light unto the nations," to shine from Zion the light of "true" faith throughout the world. We pray that this be fulfilled speedily in our days! 

Shoftim: The Torah Portion and the Unique Month of Elul

by Rav Yosef Naveh, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel

This week's Torah portion of Shoftim (Deut. 16,18-21,9) begins with this verse: "Appoint for yourselves judges and police for your tribes in all your settlements that G-d your Lord is giving you, and make sure that they administer honest judgment for the people" [translation by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan]. 

The Sfat Emet (by the Gerrer Rebbe, R. Yehuda Aryeh Leib Alter, 1847-1905) explains that the "judges" correspond to the head tefillin, and the "police" to the hand tefillin. A person judges with his head and brain how to do things in the best and truest way, while police use physical force, represented by the hand, to enforce and execute the judgements determined by the head. 

The author of HaLekach v'HaLibuv (R. Avraham Schorr, nephew of Rosh Yeshivat Torah Vodaas Rav Gedaliah Schorr) challenges this explanation: "We know that the prescribed order of putting on tefillin is hand first and head only afterwards, whereas the Torah states here 'judges' before 'police' - first the head and then the hand. Can this be reconciled?"

R. Schorr explains that the matter must be understood based upon the second verse in the weekly portion, the commandment not to take bribes: "Do not slant judgement… do not take a bribe, for it will blind the eyes of the wise" (Deut. 16,19). When a judge takes a bribe from one of the litigants, he is no longer able to judge a true judgement. As the Gaon Rav Elchanan Wasserman explained, the bribe that most effectively sways correct judgement is that which grants a person physical, this-worldly pleasures, causing him not to see the true path. One must therefore get rid of all physical pleasures in order to be able to see the way of truth.

Hands Purify, Head Decides

And this is represented by the order of tefillin: First we put on the hand tefillin, so that we may purify our physical pleasures, and only then do we put tefillin on our head so that it can now judge according to real truth, without being blinded by physical pleasures.

And when a person merits, by virtue of the head tefillin, to have his mind rule over his heart, to calculate his ways in Divine truth, and to remember that all his life-forces are from the blessed Creator Who, every moment, grants him the ability to see, speak, hear and smell - he will naturally not want to do anything with his body in contrast to the will of his Father in Heaven.

Once a person overcomes his physical inclinations and subjugates his lusts to G-d, he merits a true judgement – as is written, "The rulers [or, parable-makers] will say, come to Cheshbon!" (Numbers 21,27) That is, though Cheshbon is a place-name, it also means "calculation," and this verse therefore is used as an exhortation to make proper moral calculations, and thus merit a true judgement. 

The Hassidic work Bnei Yisaschar (R. Tzvi Elimelech Shapira, 1783-1841) states that the numerology of Elul – the month of repentance which we begin tonight – is 67, the same as that of the word Binah, which means "understanding." That is, we must utilize these days of Elul for careful and calm consideration and self-accounting regarding our path in life. "Let us search our way and delve [into them], and we will return unto G-d" (Eicha 3,40). Binah corresponds to the emotions of the heart, as is written, "his heart will understand (yavin) and he will repent and will be healed" (Yeshayahu 6,10) – perfectly appropriate for the month of Elul. 

We recite Psalm 27 precisely 100 times a year: morning and evening of the 30 days of Elul, and the same for 20 days of Tishrei. Verse 8 states: "To you my heart said, 'seek My presence.'" This is a difficult phrase, and Rashi explains: "On your behalf, my heart says to the Israelites [that they should] seek My presence." 

That is, G-d sends to my heart a thought of "seeking My presence," an arousal to seek out and find Him. Based on the context of the verse, R. Schorr explains that the worshiper here is praying for a Divine arousal and that he should merit to be Divinely answered and receive from G-d the desire to seek Him out.

The first letters of these Hebrew words that we are discussing – vaaneni l'cha amar libi – spell out the word Elul (so wrote the Lev Simcha, the Gerrer Rebbe from 1977 to 1992). This is a very appropriate allusion, as our work in the month of Elul is to cleanse our hearts so that we may judge ourselves with truth and fix that which needs to be fixed. In Elul we also increase our prayers, so that the heart will always long for closeness to G-d. As this Psalm 27 concludes: "Hope for G-d, be strong and He will give your heart courage, and hope for G-d."

Emuna: The Fourth Camp

 by Rav Aharon Egel-Tal, yeshiva.co, translated by Hillel Fendel

The national-religious inclination to work with the left-wing sometimes harms our efforts to rectify that which must be improved.

I was standing next to the late Minister Yaakov Na'eman, an observant Jew, at the inauguration of the Otniel Synagogue in 1994. A few people were with us when he excitedly told us about Arik Sharon: "You have no idea who this man is. He is fantastic – a remnant of the Great Knesset of 2,000 years ago!" His excitement has been imprinted in my memory for a long time, and especially so during the days of the Disengagement and expulsion from Gush Katif that Sharon engineered. Religious people often look for the good, but in this case, Sharon will be remembered not for his many strengths and merits, but, unfortunately, for the destruction of Gush Katif. 

I was reminded of this about two years ago when then-Prime Minister Naftali Bennett delivered a speech extolling the virtues of his new government. The man who previously had positioned himself "to the right of Netanyahu" seemed to have suddenly discovered the light of national unity, or more precisely: the necessity of giving the left-wing camp in Israel a place in the government. Apparently taking a lead from the teachings of Rabbi Kook in Orot, Bennett claimed that three forces are trying to "pull the rope" of national leadership: the religious, the nationalists, and the left, and that the tension between the forces is what makes us what we are. "We actually need all three vectors," he claimed. "We are the Jewish State. I'm glad there are hareidim, but we need to limit their political influence... I wouldn't want an Israel without the left… The story is not just one of compromise, where if we move towards one direction, the other side loses. It's about finding the right point between these forces. I am proud to lead a government that is there."

It is certainly good for politics to be influenced by the exalted thoughts of someone like Rav Kook, but it is essential that this be done in an accurate manner that is faithful to the source. There is a big difference between forming a "no choice" government, and enwrapping it in what appear to be concepts of profundity. One can recite Kiddush on Shabbat and then go to a soccer game, acknowledging his weakness in Sabbath observance – but to explain that going to the game after Kiddush is the "right" thing to do is already something quite different. Giving left-wing, anti-religious elements a major place in our government is not the right thing to do. 

Rav Kook wrote that there is a division between the forces of sanctity, of nation, and of humanity. That is, we are not an isolated island in humanity, but rather an integral part of it, and all universal tendencies are represented in our people. The struggle between the three forces is actually a struggle for our national identity, which necessitates all three of these forces.

But is this the case in our national political stage today? The political left today is represented by people like Merav Michaeli, who preaches for the destruction of the family, and a former Minister of Health who thought it was a good idea to visit terrorism-sponsor Abu Mazen in Ramallah precisely as the Israeli government was in the midst of a critical internal debate. Are these the type of people whom Rav Kook had in mind when he said that the left-wing truly wants goodness for the whole world?

Let us recall our Patriarch Abraham, who entered into an argument with the Master of the Universe about the people of S'dom. Despite their evil and the fate that they justifiably deserved, Abraham sought a way to save them. He had no personal interest in them, and they were not members of his community; he rather sought what was good for people and for mankind. This precious quality of Avraham's defined our national identity later on. 

The Netziv of Volozhin (Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin, d. 1893) wrote in his introduction to the Book of Genesis that Abraham's leadership was the foundation for what he calls "straightness," or integrity. That is, he behaved even with lowly idolaters with love and concern, all for the sake of mankind and Creation and their continued constructive existence.

The Jewish infrastructure is built upon the desire for this existence. We desire the rectification of the world, and not its destruction. Yes, sometimes in today's left-wing camps one can hear an echo of the need for environmental protection and a general love of mankind. But today's political left is far from representing such values; it rather seeks the destruction of human culture and justice as we know it.

Our Father Abraham did not confuse good with evil. He did not make concessions to that which is bad, as the above-quoted Netziv continued: "Abraham prostrated himself to pray for S'dom - even though he absolutely hated them and their king for their wickedness, as he himself explained to the king of S'dom. But still, he desired their existence." It can be safely assumed that under no circumstances would Avraham have shared political power with the evil people. 

Saying Goodbye to Lot

It is critical for us to distinguish between the left that seeks to destroy our world, and the left that is intrinsically connected to the Land and its values. They have a different outlook than ours, but they love Israel. They happen to be sure that the best thing for us is to separate from the "conquered territories," in direct opposition to our opinion and values. With these people, we must have a respectful and loving dialogue. 

The problem is that their political representation apparently connects to the global movement that seeks to dismantle national identity, including ours. Some of their comments are hateful of religious Jews, showing that they are clearly not out for the cause of goodness. Rav Kook himself warns in Orot against a situation in which these camps do not accept each other, and instead bring about only the desire to negate the other. This creates a terrible reality of contamination of the spirit and negation of truth, a situation of genuine national danger.

Is today's political left open to listening? Does it hear the desperate cry of the religious about the loss of the State's Jewish identity? 

Our religious-nationalist tendency to always "understand" the other and to want to be accepted by the leftist elite not only does not succeed in strengthening our humanity. It actually weakens our power to establish a solid position against the evil that periodically arises to destroy the nation. Instead of taking an active part in building the good, we unconsciously become philosophers standing on the side interpreting the reality being developed and built by others.  

Avraham our father understood that he had to separate from his nephew Lot, because their proximity to each other was harmful to Avraham's historic role of instilling faith and morality in the world. But his desire to separate did not prevent him from taking his students into heavy battle to rescue him! 

We do not live in a binary world, but rather in a complex reality with various shades and hues. Not every distancing necessarily means disconnection. We can love our brothers, but need not run to them for help in running the State.

Re'eh: Uprooting Idolatry and Outreach (Kiruv)

 by Rav Moshe Leib HaCohen Halbershtat, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel

The Torah's prohibitions against idolatry and idol-worshipers are very strong indeed. In this week's Torah portion of Re'eh (Deut. 11,26-16,17), we read: "You shall utterly destroy all the places that the nations worshiped [idols]… Smash their altars, break their pillars, burn their Asherah trees, cut down the idols of their gods, and erase their name…" (12,2-3).  

The early commentators explain that the idolatry must not only be destroyed, but its very roots must be devastated; it must be mocked and humiliated, leaving no trace thereof. 

We who live in the 21st century C.E. view these commandments with a mixture of confused and even shocked emotions. Even if we understand that the Torah does not always fully accept the modern notions of democracy, pluralism, containment, 'to each his own,' and laissez faire, this does not necessarily lead to mass destruction and degradation. And even if we remember that idolatry is a most grave sin, one of the three for which one must agree to be killed rather than violate, we still have great trouble wrapping our heads around these commands. Sure, idolatry can be outlawed, its establishments closed down, and the like – but to burn, devastate, raze, and refer to it with mockery and scorn – what's going on? This type of reaction appears to signal panic and insecurity in our beliefs. Isn't our clear faith in One G-d strong enough that we need not resort to such a hostile response to those who believe the opposite?

But this is not all. We are also commanded in this Torah portion to destroy an ir nidachat – that is, a city whose inhabitants become idol-worshipers: they and their livestock must be slaughtered, and the city and everything in it must be burnt to the ground and may never be rebuilt. The accepted explanation for this is that a city whose inhabitants are so evil that they came to a joint decision to turn to the wickedness of idolatry, must be utterly blotted out. (Let us note that the Sages say that this commandment applies only under certain very restrictive conditions – such as that there must not be even one mezuzah there – and therefore was never actually meant to be fulfilled.) 

And again we ask: To burn an entire city and its residents? How can this possibly be grasped, given that G-d Himself, even when "angry," remembers His compassion (Tr. P'sachim 87b)! How can a nation that is termed "merciful sons of merciful and bashful sons of bashful" be expected to act so ruthlessly? 

In truth, these questions primarily show the tremendous distance and difference between the world of spiritual exile in which we live, and the world of Torah and the true reality. 

We recall that at Mt. Sinai, G-d spoke only two of the Ten Commandments to the Children of Israel, and Moshe Rabbeinu told over the next eight. What were the only two that we heard from G-d Himself at this historically sublime occasion? "I am the Lord your G-d," and "You shall not have any other gods in My stead" (Sh'mot 20,1-2).  

It is the most fundamental of fundamentals to know that there is One G-d, creator of absolutely all, Whose existence grants being to every single aspect of the universe. Knowing this is a positive Torah commandment - "I am the Lord your G-d" (Sh'mot 20,1). Conversely, whoever considers that there are other gods in the world stands in violation of "You shall not have any other gods in My stead." The Rambam explains that belief in One G-d is the "main point" on which everything else hinges. 

When a person lives with deep and true faith according to the teachings of Torah, and understands that our entire existence is based on our trust and faith in G-d and remaining totally apart from anything even reminiscent of idol-worship, he understands that when we are with G-d our lives have meaning and value, as well as Eternal Life in the World to Come, and that without Him we have only darkness, emptiness and futility. In this light, it is clear that idolatry is the most destructive force in the universe, and that there is no more lethal weapon for mankind, there is no more terrible disease than idolatry, and that idol worshipers are a genuine threat to mankind. And in the face of such a threat, there is no greater act of compassion than to obliterate and remove the threat, with any and all means available. 

No doubt, the destruction of idolatry does not photograph well in the media – but neither does the aerial bombing attack of a city filled with terrorists and weapons. (Neither did Hiroshima, for that matter.) But in truth, there is no greater mercy than removing this menace to the welfare of the world – and it is these extreme measures that the Torah demands of us, in order to save the world. 

On the other hand, these commandments to wipe out idolatry are applicable only when the Jewish Nation is settled in its Land and the Sanhedrin High Court of 71 judges is in place. But in our times, in the world in which we live, not only are we not commanded to wipe out idolatry in this manner, we are forbidden to do so! This is because such actions today would have precisely the opposite effect than that which the Torah desires. As the Chazon Ish (Rabbi Avraham Yeshayahu Karelitz, d. 1953) wrote regarding a similar law of moridin v'ein maalin: 

"It appears that this law applied only when G-d's providence over all was seen and revealed, when miracles and a Heavenly Voice were prevalent, when the righteous of the generation were under clearly-seen Divine Providence, when the heretics were [therefore] particularly brazen in directing their desires towards sinful lust and wantonness, and when Divine retribution was prevalent and everyone knew that sinfulness brought war and disease upon the world. But nowadays, when the truth is "covered," and faith has been cut off from the simple people, and [taking offensive measures] against sinners does not help the situation, but rather makes it worse, in that they will see us merely as agents of violence and destruction – the law does not apply, for it no longer serves our purpose of rectification. Rather, we must bring [the sinners] close with love and rays of light, as much as we can."

The purpose of all mitzvot is to rectify the world and bring it to its ultimate and highest purpose. It is therefore clear that under the appropriate conditions, we must uproot and destroy idolatry and its practitioners, in order to remove the threat from the world – but when the circumstances dictate otherwise, we must seek to improve the world with love and light.

Emuna: For Love of the Holy Tongue

by Rav Moshe Ehrenreich, yeshiva.co, translated by Hillel Fendel

This week's Torah portion, Ekev (Deut. 7,12-11,26), features the second passage of our daily Kriat Shma passage – V'hayah im shamo'a – which states: "You shall teach [the words of Torah] to your children, to speak of them, when you are at home and when you are on the way and when you lie down and when you get up" (ibid. 11,19).

Rashi cites the Medrash Sifri to this verse: 

"To speak of them" – from the time the boy knows how to speak, teach him the words, "Torah tzivah lanu Moshe - Moshe commanded the Torah to us" – this is how he should learn to speak. Our Rabbis derived from this that when the baby begins to talk, his father should speak to him in the Holy Tongue and teach him Torah. If the father does not do this, it is as though he buries his son, as it is stated [here], “You shall teach them to your sons to speak with them… [so that your days and the days of your children may increase]." 

It appears that the Sages derived this teaching from the fact that the Torah was careful to say "to speak of them," and not "to study them" or "to contemplate them." In any event, we learn from here that one must learn Hebrew, in order to be able to learn and teach Torah.

In the Tosefta (Tr. Chagiga 1,2) we also learn: "Once a child knows how to speak, his father teaches him Shma Yisrael, and Torah, and the Holy Tongue – if not, what good is it that he came into the world?" 

However, there is another Talmudic passage that states that when a child learns to speak, his father must teach him Torah and Kriat Shma – and does not mention that it must be in Hebrew.

In his commentary on the Mishna, Maimonides attributes equal weight to the study of Hebrew and to the joy we must feel on the Festivals – and even to the mitzvah of circumcision: "Be as careful with seemingly light mitzvot as with severe ones, for you do not know the reward for each one; we should be careful to observe commandments that appear to be light, such as Festival joy and the study of the Holy Tongue, just as those whose severity was specified, such as Brit Milah, tzitzit, and slaughtering the Paschal offering."

If the mitzvah of learning Hebrew is so important, according to the Rambam, why did he not count it as one of the 613 mitzvot, and why did he not mention it in his Yad HaChazakah? So ask many of the later Sages. Interestingly, I once had a conversation with a Satmarer rabbinical judge in the United States, in which I inadvertently gave an answer to this question. He asked me in what language I deliver my lectures in the Yeshiva, and when I gave him the obvious answer that I teach in Hebrew, the Holy Tongue, he was very surprised: "How can you allow yourself to deviate from the path of the great Torah scholars who have been teaching in Yiddish for generations?" I gave him two answers: 

a. The vast majority of the Torah scholars throughout the generations, such as Rashi, Maimonides, and Nachmanides, taught and learned Torah in the Holy Tongue.

b. Rav Yehuda HaLevy wrote in his classic work HaKuzari that the Hebrew language of his times "shared the fate of its bearers, degenerating and dwindling with them. Considered historically and logically, [however,] it is the noblest of the languages. According to tradition it is the language in which G-d spoke to Adam and Eve, and in which the latter conversed. This is proved by the derivation of Adam from adamah (earth), ishah (woman) from ish (man) [and other examples in the first chapters of Genesis]… Abraham was from Ur Casdim, where Aramaic was spoken; he employed Hebrew as a specially holy language, and spoke Aramaic for everyday use." 

I also added that since we now, may G-d be praised, are already in the Land of Israel, in the "Beginning of Redemption" stages – the Hebrew language is meriting to come to life, together with the Jewish nation. I later found that the Torah Temimah commentary gave a very similar answer: "And perhaps the Rambam [who did not count the mitzvah of speaking or learning Hebrew] held that this mitzvah applies only in the Land of Israel, when the nation is living there – whereas now [in his times, the 19th century] it would be impossible for most of the nation to be able to fulfill this mitzvah, for several reasons."

The Torah Temimah also gives another answer. The Talmud notes that the Talmudic sage R. Elazar charged his students to "prevent your children from higayon." Rashi explains this unfamiliar word as meaning, "Do not let them become accustomed to studying the Bible [as opposed to Talmud and the like] too much, because it will draw them in." 

The Meiri adds explanation: "R. Elazar cautioned his students to raise their children with Torah study and to teach them from their early days that they must not understand any verses simply according to their plain meaning, if such an explanation could lead to any type of heresy." 

That is, the verses of the Bible should be taught through the "glasses of the Sages," so that the pupils should not be tempted to interpret them according to what appears to be logic, if this contradicts foundations of the faith. From this the Torah Temimah learned that later generations probably refrained from teaching Hebrew to the youngsters so that they would not learn the Bible on their own without guidance.

Let us read the words of Maimonides carefully (Laws of Torah Study 1,6) and see the message that comes through: "From when is a father obligated to teach his son Torah? When the child begins to speak, his father teaches him, "Torah tzivah lanu Moshe" and "Shma Yisrael," and afterwards teaches him additional verses, until he is six or seven years or whenever he is ready to be brought to a teacher."    

It could very well be understood that the Rambam did not actually leave out the mitzvah of learning Hebrew and teaching Torah in Hebrew, but rather taught us the correct methodology by which to do so: via the verses of the Torah. Thus will be created the correct understanding of the connection between the Holy Language and the Torah. 

Let us conclude by reminding ourselves that one of the greatest miracles of all those that happened to the Nation of Israel in recent generations is that of the "revival of the dead" of the Hebrew language. Barukh Hashem!

Ekev: Do Not Fear Them!

 by Rav Moshe Tzuriel, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel

What is the main test we face in this generation?

Our lives on earth are entirely replete with tests and difficulties. As Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzato (18th century, Italy) wrote in his classic work Mesilat Yesharim (Path of the Just): 

"… A person is thus placed amidst a strong war, for all matters of the world, for good or for bad, are tests for a person: Poverty on the one hand, wealth on the other; serenity on the one hand, suffering on the other; etc. He thus finds himself in a war front and back. And if he will be a man of valor, emerging from the battle victorious on all fronts – he will be the "whole/perfect man" who merits to cling to his Creator and emerge from the corridor of This World to enter into the palace of the Light of Eternal Life… We thus understand that the primary purpose of man's existence in this world is only to fulfill the Torah's commandments, serve [G-d], and pass the tests."

What is the main test facing the People of Israel in its Land in this generation? It is to believe wholeheartedly that we are fulfilling G-d's will and command by living here – and that G-d will grant us His help in enabling us to continue to live here. 

 We face this test in our current two-front war: One is physical, against Iran's murderous threats to obliterate us, Heaven forbid, and against Arab Palestinian terrorists from within Judea and Samaria, and from elsewhere, who take every opportunity to shoot, bomb and stab to death as many Jews as possible, Heaven forbid.

And the second front is spiritual, against the defeatists and those of no faith within us, those for whom the Torah does not light their path and who feel that in truth, the Arabs are the rightful owners of our land and that our national presence here is unjust.  

We are thus pressured to give in and concede our land, our building and construction rights, our maritime gas reserves, our unfettered right and obligation to defend ourselves – all so that the Arabs and the world will accept our presence here. The message of the media and academics and many politicians is that "now is not the right time" for an offensive war of deterrence and for the destruction of the enemy's capabilities to bomb us. They hammer away that major offensives to uproot the enemy's terrorist infrastructures will cause us at least as many casualties as the terrorists already cause us, so what would be the point?

And thus the "nation in Zion" sits in frustration and despair and helplessness, brainwashed into thinking that there is no other choice.

What are these defeatists lacking? They lack faith and trust in the historic promises of G-d to Israel. It is precisely this situation of Israel's entry (no matter how protracted) into the Land of Israel, of wars and difficulties, of self-sacrifice, and of tremendous pressures, about which the Torah announced in advance. It is for these circumstances that G-d gave us His promises, in this week's Torah portion of Ekev (Deut. 7,12-11,25) and elsewhere. With Bnei Yisrael on the verge of entering the Land, Moshe Rabbeinu exhorts them: 

"And if you say to yourself, 'These nations are more numerous than I; how will I be able to drive them out?' Do not fear them; remember what Hashem your God, did to Pharaoh and to all of Egypt - the great wonders that your eyes saw… the mighty hand and the outstretched arm with which He brought you out. So will He do to all the peoples you fear… Do not be terrified of them, for the Lord Who is in your midst, is a great and awesome God. He will drive out those nations from before you, little by little – not quickly, lest the beasts of the field outnumber you. The Lord will deliver them to you, and He will confound them with great confusion, until they are destroyed." (Deut. 7,17-23)

According to Rabbeinu Yonah, one of the great Rishonim (Medieval period Torah scholars), the above exhortations not to have fear are literal, binding Torah commands. Similarly, that which is stated in Deut. 20,1 is also an obligatory Torah injunction: "If/when you go out to war against your enemies, and you see that they have great forces of horses and chariots… do not fear them." This means that we must not be afraid of various calamities coming upon us, and we must not give in to despair; we must rather trust and remember that G-d is with us and His salvation is close – as is written in Psalms 85,10, Isaiah 51,12, and elsewhere. 

There is a great difference between us and the secular public in Israel, in that we believe in all the Torah's teachings and promises, for the Torah is G-d's word. One who knows that G-d created the world, that He is all-powerful, and that He rules all – will not be afraid of any mortal man. This lack of trust and faith is precisely that which plagued the Spies sent out to scout the Land by Moshe Rabbeinu. They, too, were afraid that "the nation [in the Land] is so strong!" One of the only two scouts who trusted in G-d, Calev ben Yefuneh, tried to argue with them: "Don't rebel against G-d!" Why was this considered a rebellion? The Ramban explains (Numbers 14,9): 

"Fear of the great strength of the peoples dwelling in the Land [that G-d has promised you] is a rebellion against G-d – for [do you not remember that] it was not by your own might that you left Egypt, but only because of G-d's miracles for you. He promised that you will now enter and defeat the people living there, so you must believe it, and you will succeed!"

Elsewhere in Psalms we read another formulation of this problem: "They gave up on the beautiful land, did not believe His word" (106,24). This is a cause and effect: Why did they give up on the Land? Because they didn't have faith in G-d's word! They rather used their own logic, as some do today: "If we are few and they are many, and the entire world (West and East) is against the State of Israel, how can we survive? The only alternative is simply to give in." 

But for those who continue to believe in Hashem and His promises, the situation is precisely the opposite. G-d can do anything! He can even save a worm on a railroad track in the way of a speeding locomotive bearing down upon it – with a simple twitch of the engineer's hand driving it off the tracks. G-d thus comforted and encouraged us – "Fear not, O worm of Jacob; I have helped you, says the Lord, your redeemer, the Holy One of Israel" (Isaiah 41,14).

And the prophet continues with his encouragement, telling us that G-d can help us even crush mountains: "Behold I have made you a new grooved threshing-sledge, with sharp points; you shall thresh the mountains and crush them fine, and you shall make hills like chaff, and you shall winnow them - and a wind shall carry them off, and a tempest shall scatter them, and you shall rejoice with the Lord, with the Holy One of Israel…" 

We cling to G-d. And it is specifically our Land that can bring us closer to Him. The commandment in this week's Torah portion is to "walk in all His ways and cling to Him" (Deut. 11,22). We must fulfill this by dwelling in the Land He has given us with total trust and confidence.

Our great Torah giants say that our closeness to G-d is acquired specifically in the Land of Israel. For instance, Rabbe Natan, the top student of Rabbe Nachman of Breslov, wrote in Likutei Halachot: "For Eretz Yisrael is the place of the primary closeness to G-d. And this is why the Gemara taught, 'Whoever lives in Eretz Yisrael, it is as if he has a G-d.'" 

And the Kli Yakar wrote as well (Parashat Lekh Lekha): "For it is there [in the Land] that he will attain closeness of the Divine Presence."

And the Sefer HaKuzari, too, in the end of this classic work: "The heart will not become pure, and one's thoughts will not be totally devoted to G-d, other than in this place [Eretz Yisrael]." And the Abarbanel, as well, in his commentary to Pirkei Avot (Chapter 5), extolled at length the praises of the Land. 

And thus we see that must not leave the Land, nor may we be swayed with weak-heartedness by the heresy of the defeatists in our midst who seek to weaken the public with incitement to give away parts of our inheritance. We are, after all, "believers, children of believers" (Tr. Shabbat 97a).