Emuna: Gentile Involvement in Our Affairs Does Not End Well

by Rav Avraham Vasserman, Yeshivot Ramat Gan and Givatayim, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The famous pre-Tisha B'Av story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza has suffered a fate similar to that of other famous Jewish texts. That is, when we assume that we already know the message they intend to give over, their main points are liable to be overlooked.

To quickly review, the Talmud tells us that Bar Kamtza came by mistake to a party given by his enemy (the invitation had really been proffered to someone named Kamtza). Even after Bar Kamtza offered to pay for entire feast in order not to be thrown out in humiliation, the host did not agree, and in fact threw him out in front of all the guests – including Sages. Bar Kamtza then took revenge by informing on the Jews to the Roman emperor, and in fact, as the Talmud concludes, "Because of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza, Jerusalem was destroyed." (Tr. Gittin 55b)

The heading of this story is the verse, "Fortunate is he who is always afraid; he who hardens his heart falls into misfortune" (Proverbs 28,14). Rashi on the Gemara explains that the Jews of the time did not think or foresee the results of their actions:

·         The host did not think what could happen as a result of embarrassing Bar Kamtza;

·         the Sages did not realize that their silence and failure to protest the injustice would lead to a tremendous drive for revenge by Bar Kamtza;

·         the Sage Zecharia ben Avkulas, who objected to various Halakhic solutions that could have avoided the problems caused by Bar Kamtza, was too "scrupulous", and in fact the Gemara says that it was this trait of his that led ultimately to the destruction and the exile.

·         And even those who burnt the storehouses of food in order to get the Jews to fight did not think that their hunger would lead to destruction. (Note, also, that this part of the story happened at the end, when the conquest of Jerusalem was practically a done deal.)

Whose fault was it, then, that the Temple was destroyed and the nation was exiled? The answer is: Bar Kamtza – a Jew who had a fight with another Jew, was insulted by him and his fellow Jews who didn't come to his aid, and chose to bring the Romans on so that they would take his vengeance upon them. This last point was the ultimate mistake.

Our Sages note that Yaakov Avinu was perhaps the first one to make this sinful error. After a long period of separation from his brother Esav, who had vowed to kill him, Yaakov turned to him of his own initiative. When Yaakov sent him scouts with a message of peace, the Medrash Rabba (75,3) says that G-d said [paraphrased], "He was walking on his way, why did you have to remind him of your existence?"

The Ramban adds that in his opinion, this is a hint that we ourselves actually started our downfall at the hands of the Edomites [Esav's son Edom is traditionally regarded as the ancestor of the Christian Roman empire]. He writes that it is recorded in history [by Josephus] that Hyrcanus and Aristobulus, fighting for the crown, each sought Roman support, to the point where the Romans ultimately took over altogether, and ended up destroying the Temple and exiling the Jews.

Also in his commentary to the Torah passages of strong rebuke (the tokhecha of Parashat Bechukotai; Vayikra 26), the Ramban notes that involving the Gentiles in our internal struggles is what caused our destruction: "King Agrippas [the last Jewish king of Judea] went to Rome at the end of the Second Temple period, and for this, the House was destroyed."

Some centuries earlier, after many blood-soaked wars between Israel and Judea, King Pekach of Israel asked the army of Aram to get involved – and King Achaz of Judea followed suit with the Assyrians, despite being warned by the Prophet Yeshayahu not to do so. Ultimately the Assyrians captured Israel, and nearly captured Judea as well if not for the great miracle that felled the army of Nevuchadnezzar. But the Jewish downfall had started, and ultimately the Babylonians captured Judea, destroyed the First Temple, and exiled the Jews.

Actually, even the conflict between Joseph and his brothers was marked by this son. The fraternal conflict did not have to result in such a sharp break, had it not been for the brothers' wretched decision to sell him to Gentiles. The fight between them was certainly not a good thing, but if it would have remained within the family, it could have been solved. Once others got involved, however, the family ties were broken – nearly for good. Though peace was ultimately restored between them, the sale was actually what brought about the Egyptian exile and bondage.

Yes, there were many reasons for our Exile. Fraternal hatred, of course, is very well known, but our Sages have also mentioned Sabbath desecration, Shemittah desecration, Avoda Zarah, sexual sins, murder, and more. But the sin of turning to Gentiles and asking for their help against other Jews – this is not just the sin, but the punishment itself for violating our brotherhood! Though the perpetrators believe that they are accomplishing something positive – such as the Reformers who worked with foreign authorities to close synagogues and Jewish schools that did not agree to participate in their "progress" – they actually thus brought destruction upon themselves.

On Tisha B'Av – the ninth day of the month of Av (August 13^th this year) – we fast in commemoration of the destruction of both Holy Temples 2,500 and 2,000 years ago, respectively. Our fast is also so that we remember "our wicked deeds, and those of our forefathers, which caused them and ourselves those tribulations" (Rambam, Laws of Fasts, Chapter 5).

Now, too, as in the past, there are those who seek support from the Gentiles in order to impose their way on their Jewish brethren. Even if their intentions are for good, there is nothing more contemptible. When the natural brotherly ties between one Jew and another are violated, destruction is already at our doorstep.

As cited above: "Fortunate is he who is always afraid" (Proverbs 28,14).

Mattot-Masei: From Kinot to Tikkun

by Rav Yosef Naveh, Hassidic Educator and Torah Coach, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The weekly portion that we read in the synagogue this Shabbat is a double one: Mattot-Masei (beginning in Bamidbar 30,2 until the end of the book). It begins by stating, "These are the journeys of the Israelites who went out of the land of Egypt." The Sfat Emet gives several reasons why the Torah connects these journeys with the Exodus from Egypt: "It would seem that [it is based on the fact that] the Exodus is mentioned 50 times in the Torah, as the Holy Zohar tells us (Part 1, 261b) – alluding to their having left [on their journeys mentioned here] the 49 Gates of Impurity and entering the 50 Gates of Wisdom."

The Sfat Emet continues: "According to the words of our Sages (Rosh Hashana 21b), the 50 Gates of Wisdom were given over to Moshe Rabbeinu except for one, as is written, "You have made him a bit less than G-d" (Tehillim 8,6)." That is, the 50th gate symbolizes divine perfection, and Moshe Rabbeinu, though he was the highest of the human species (Arvei Nachal, Sh'mot 1), was not perfect, but rather necessarily flawed.

According to Rabbe Nachman of Breslov (Likutei Moharan 1, 89), a literal understanding of this verse indicates the remarkable concept that whatever is missing from a person, whether spiritually or physically, is actually a lack in the Divine Presence.

We are currently in the period of the Three Weeks, known as "Between the Straits," in which we mourn for that which is missing from the world. We grieve over the great lack inherent in both the general reality and our personal circumstances. In actuality, Hashem is telling us of what He is missing. This entire situation of "lacking" stems from the fact that He does not have an abode, a Home, in This World in which to have His Presence dwell in our midst – which will be the "completeness of reality" that we long and strive for.

When the letter nun is missing from a word, this shows that something significant is missing and that a rectification is required. How so? Nun is equivalent to 50, and symbolizes completeness and the highest spiritual level – "above all the Gates," in the words of the above-cited Sfat Emet.  Therefore, when it is missing, something has to be fixed.  

This can help us understand the following teaching from the Zohar and Rabbe Nachman. The Zohar states (Raya Mehemna, Tzav, 27b) that whenever there is a teku, an unresolved Halakhic issue, we must be stringent, as teku is tikun without a nun, i.e., it has no rectification. Rabbe Nachman adds that it is missing the nun of completeness and rectification. We also know that there are two types of nun: One at the end of a word, which is a simple straight line, and one in the middle of a word, which is a bent line, like a backwards L. Rabbe Nachman notes that the nun of tikun is a straight line, and when it is missing, thus forming the word teku, "unresolved," the four letters of teku plus the bent-over replacement nun will then spell the word kinot, songs of sadness like the dirges recited on Tisha B'Av. He concludes: "May G-d redeem us and may the kinot be turned into tikun."

Just like teku refers to unclear situations when we don't know what is G-d's will, so too, there are times when we ourselves face contradictory considerations and don't know how to act or what G-d would like us to do. The solution to this, says Rabbe Nachman (Likutei Halachot, Gittin 3), is "to pray very very much to Hashem, that [we] should merit to receive true counsel so that [we] can return and do the right thing." He explains that the "50^th Gate" is the true counsel that certainly exists for every situation and that will guide us as to what precisely we should do in order to fulfill G-d's will without doubts. And when there is no Beit Mikdash, we are all in a state of deficiency and lack, because it was from the Holy Temple that Torah instruction went out to Israel (Taanit 16a).

When Moshe made one of his final demands on Pharaoh to send the Israelites out, he angrily told him what was going to happen (Sh'mot 11,8): "Your servants will come to me and bow down to me and say, 'Get out! You and all your people that follow you!'" The Hebrew words used here literally mean 'all the people on your feet' – and Rabbe Natan says the following remarkable thought: Shoes symbolize walking along a sure path, where one knows his destination with confidence. On Tisha B'Av we mourn for the Beit HaMikdash, whose absence means that we no longer have a sure guidepost to tell us how and what to do – and this is why on Tisha B'Av we are not allowed to wear [leather] shoes!

The tikun for this state of affairs is to recite kinot. Similarly on Tisha B'Av we recite the Scroll of Eichah (Lamentations), which are the same letter as Ayekah, meaning, "Where are You?!" We cry out to G-d and say, "We are lost, we don't know what to do! Where are You?!"

Rabbe Natan concludes: "In the future, everything will be rectified, the teku will be rectified, and all the doubts will be resolved, and the kinot will once again become tikun."

Emuna: What We Lose in the Exile

by Rav Avihu Schwartz, Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav Kook, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The days rush by quickly, and here we are in the thick of the Three Weeks mourning period for both the First and Second Holy Temples, 2,500 and 2,000 years ago, respectively. In Hebrew, this period is known as Bein HaMetzarim, "Between the Straits," based on Eichah (Lamentations) 1,3.  

These are days not only of mourning, but also of increased anticipation for our complete Redemption. The crux of Redemption is our total return – teshuvah – to ourselves and our essence. To understand Redemption, let us begin with Exile, which is depicted by the Prophet Yechezkel in the first verses of his book as follows: 

It came to pass [in Hebrew: Vay'hi] in the thirtieth year in the fourth [month] on the fifth day of the month, with me in the Exile by the river Kvar: the heavens opened up, and I saw visions of G-d… This was the fifth year of King Yehoyachin's exile." (1,2)

Our Sages teach that the first word here, vay'hi, often signifies deep sorrow. As our esteemed Rabbi and Teacher Tzvi Yehuda HaCohen Kook, of saintly blessed memory, taught: "The initial letter vuv with the patah vowel of vay'hi is a tense-changing vuv, and thus turns what follows (y'hi, meaning "will be") from future into past. This is the greatest sorrow of all: the turning of our glorious national future into the past."

The prophecy that Yechezkel begins with was, as stated above, delivered in the fourth month in the year, namely, Tammuz, the month we are in now. This introductory verse emphasizes that Yechezkel was "in the exile" in Babylon. And thus this great prophetic work begins by emphasizing the deep sadness that the Exile brings about. 

HaRav A. I. Kook, father of Rav Tzvi Yehuda and the first Chief Rabbi of modern-day Eretz Yisrael, elaborated further with great profundity in his work Orot HaKodesh (Vol. 3, p. 140): 

"Yechezkel said, 'I was in the Exile' – referring to the very essence of "I," of both the individual and the community… Adam's sin happened when he became estranged to his essence and accepted the serpent's opinion, thus losing himself, unable to answer clearly the [Divine] question, 'Where are you?' (B'reshit 3,9)." 

This, then, is the core of the Exile: loss of our selfhood. When we return to it, this is the root of Redemption, as Rav Kook the father continues there: 

"Eichah 4,20 describes the Messiah of G-d as the very breath of our nostrils – and this is his might and the splendor of his greatness. It is not external to us, it is our own spirit; we seek the Mashiach and David our King... It is ourselves that we are seeking and will find…" 

The anticipation and longing for the kingdom of Mashiach son of David is itself the quest for our identity, for ourselves, as Rav Kook explained (Shmoneh Kvatzim 5, 157). He writes there that the Messiah is the greatest level of the internal selfhood of all of Israel.

But it is often asked: Is it really possible or realistic to sit in anticipation of the Messiah every single day? After all, we see that the Prime Minister is well entrenched in his office and there seems to be no apparent path to his replacement in the near future. And another, more general question: Is our nation ready for the Messiah? Are we prepared for the Beit HaMikdash, including sacrificial offerings and laws of impurity? 

These are all logical questions. So what? Ever since we became a people, from the days of our Patriarchs, we have come to learn that the Master of the Universe, the King of Kings, is the One Who runs His world - not necessarily in step with human logic. Did not our Sages teach us, in their Divine wisdom, that "a Sage is greater than a Prophet"? The Talmud states as follows: 

The Messiah will not come until they despair from the Redemption, as is stated, "their power is decreasing, with no protection or help" (D'varim 32,36), as if there were no supporter or helper for the Jewish People. This is as Rabbi Zera would do when he found Sages engaging in discussions about the coming of the Messiah; he would say to them: "Please, I ask of you, do not delay his coming by calculating the end of days. For as we learn in a baraita: There are three matters that come only when our attention is diverted from them, and they are: The Messiah, a lost item, and a scorpion." (Sanhedrin 97a)

R. Zera was saying that by calculating the time of the Mashiach's arrival, the scholars were not enabling themselves to be surprised by his coming. 

Thus, the Sages teach us that only when we have despaired from salvation – which happens when we lack good leadership and therefore cannot set our path correctly – precisely then is when the descendant of David will come. And the Gemara continues by bringing a baraita [Tannaitic text] that teaches that the Messiah specifically comes when we are not ready for him, just as a scorpion arrives on the scene, as far as humans are concerned, by total surprise, and the same is true for one who finds a lost object on the street.  

The holy Maharal of Prague explains (Netzach Yisrael, chapter 40) that in general, the world is conducted in what appears to be a logical order. However, there are cases that don't belong to the regular scheme of things, and they are represented by the above three cases: The scorpion is a negative example of that which is abnormal; finding a lost object is a positive example; and Mashiach symbolizes the higher-world level of that which is beyond our world. As the Maharal writes there (Chapter 17), "the King Messiah is of a level from the Upper World" – and that is why his appearance is sudden and abrupt, separate from the natural order of things.

So, too, taught us our teacher Rav Tzvi Yehuda in Tammuz 1981, as [I wrote in] HaTorah HaGoelet Vol. 2, p. 211: 

"The Prophet Elijah, Eliyahu HaNavi, is on a very great spiritual level… His personage remains with us throughout all the generations, as he is quoted in the Gemara, in the Halakha, and in the Aggadah, wherever it says, 'Tanna d'vei Eliyahu,' meaning, 'It was taught in the academy of Eliyahu.' From here progresses the bond between Eliyahu and Mashiach, a bond of miraculous revelation. The Gemara says that the Mashiach will come when we are not "paying attention," meaning in a wondrous manner. The students asked what that means precisely, and Rav Tzvi Yehuda answered by quoting this verse: 'Behold I send My angel, and he will clear a way before Me. And suddenly, the Lord Whom you seek will come to His Temple' (Malachi 3,1)."

Pinchas: G-d's Honor: Connecting Pinchas and the Three Weeks

by Rav Netanel Yosifun, Rosh Yeshivat Orot Netanya, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

It is told of one of the great Torah scholars of Israel that in his childhood, he would study Gemara (Talmud) with his father. Before every holiday, they would study the tractate that had to do with that holiday: P'sachim before Pesach, Sukkah before Sukkot, and the like. One year, around the beginning of the Counting of the Omer, his father asked him: "OK, which tractate shall we study now?" The boy answered: "Let's study Tractate Sh'vuot, in preparation for the festival of Shavuot."

His father responded that the boy seemed to be confusing sh'vuot, which means "oaths," and Shavuot, which refers to the Shavuot holiday: "Tractate Sh'vuot does not deal with the holiday," he told his son, "but with the prohibition of swearing in vain and lying and the like."

The boy replied, "Yes, I know that. However, when we stood at Mount Sinai to receive the Torah, we swore to fulfill all the mitzvot. As the Talmud teaches, we may not make a vow to fulfill a mitzvah - because we are already bound by the oath that we took at Sinai; we "stand bound by our oath from Sinai." As such, so that we may internalize the greatness of the obligation we accepted upon ourselves at Mount Sinai on the day of the Shavuot holiday when we received the Torah, we must prepare for that holiday now by studying the Sh'vuot tractate…" 

Every year we read Parashat Pinchas at the beginning of the Three Weeks, which is the mourning period for the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash (the Holy Temple) and the exile of Israel. Just as we saw that Shavuot and sh'vuot share in the same important message, it seems that this is also true for Parashat Pinchas and the Three Weeks: they share the message of the centrality of the Beit HaMikdash – as we will explain.

It would seem that in order for us to be able to mourn the destruction of the Holy Temple, we must first learn how important it is. But even before that, we must learn something even more basic: how to get out of our own four cubits, and become people who "really care." 

Our goal must be to be people who care about the Nation of Israel, about the desecration of G-d's name in the world, and about the Exile of the Divine Presence.

This means that learning about the importance of the Temple alone is not enough. For one could say to himself: "The Temple is fascinating, but what does it really have to do with me? How does it concern me?" Or he might even go one step further and say, "Sure, it's important for me to serve G-d – but that's my personal service, and it's for me to concentrate on. But what connection is there between me and the Holy Temple and the revelation of G-d's name in the world??"

In order to answer, or obviate, these questions, what we must do first is develop a sense of really caring about the revelation of G-d's name in the world.

The Ramchal (R. Moshe Chaim Luzatto, 18th century, Italy) wrote about this in his classic work "The Path of the Just," chapter 19, as follows: 

"He whose motivation in his service of G-d is to purify his soul so that he will be worthy of sitting among the Just and the Pious… and receive the reward of the World to Come – we certainly cannot say that his motive is evil. But we also cannot say that this is the best of motives, because when a person is thinking about his own benefit, his service is ultimately for his own self-interest. 

"Rather, the true intention found among the pious who have labored and strived to achieve it, is that the honor of G-d should increase and multiply..."

That is, the highest level in the service of G-d is to desire that His name should be revealed in the world. Such intention will lead and enable one to mourn over the destruction of the Temple, which represents this Divine honor. As the Ramchal wrote in the above work in the name of Tanna Dvei Eliyahu: 

"Every sage of Israel who has attained true Torah knowledge, and grieves over G-d's honor, the honor of Israel, and the honor of Jerusalem and the Holy Temple, and longs for Israel's redemption and the ingathering of the exiles – he will merit to have G-d's spirit of holiness upon his words."

The Ramchal adds there that we should not say: "How can I expect to accomplish anything in this area? Will my prayer make a difference? Can it actually bring about an ingathering of the exiles and redemption?" The answer is - yes! It was precisely about this that the Sages taught (Tr. Sanhedrin p. 68): "Why was Man created alone? So that everyone could say, 'for me the world was created'."

And this is exactly the background from which Pinchas arose. Pinchas was the man who stopped a plague in Israel by killing Zimri ben Salu who sinned publicly with a daughter of Moav. He could have said, as many have said after him, "Who am I? I'm not in charge here. I am not the Sanhedrin and not the king, and it's not my job to solve the problem of Zimri ben Salu." But he was a man who cared, and therefore he was the only one who could resolve it! 

Pinchas was a kanai, one who was willing to go "all the way" for his beliefs and desire to ensure the preservation of G-d's honor. He saw the desecration of G-d's name caused by Zimri's sin, and he arose and did something about it. Ordinary people are not allowed to do such an act as he did, killing Zimri. But one who cares, and is jealous for G-d, is he who is able to solve the problem.

And by virtue of that caring, Pinchas received from G-d the blessings of peace and the everlasting covenant, and merited to become a High Priest and a leader of Israel. And as the Ramchal wrote, G-d ultimately gives the leadership of Israel to those caring people who give their lives for Israel: 

"These are the true shepherds of Israel whom G-d desires greatly, who devote themselves to His sheep, and strive and work for Israel's peace and well-being in all ways... This can be compared to a father who loves no one more than those who love his sons with faithful love..."

May we be privileged to experience this.

Emuna: Let Us Be Strong, Worthy, and Aware in This War

Adapted from an article by Rabbi Eliezer Melamed, Rabbi of Har Brachah and Rosh Yeshivat Har Brachah, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

Let us begin with a prayer and praise for our soldiers – and their forbearers: 

May our words be to the merit of the soldiers and field officers who risk their lives every day for their country and their people. They perpetuate, with their valor, our holy heroes throughout our generations: our forefathers in Egypt who did not forget or forfeit their identity; Yehoshua Bin-Nun and his warriors who captured Eretz Yisrael; King David who established the Jewish kingdom; Daniel and his comrades who were willing to give their lives in order to keep alive the embers of the faith of Israel in the Babylonian exile; the Hashmonaim who helped the Jewish People survive the decrees of the Syrian-Greeks and who re-established the Kingdom of Israel; Rabbi Akiva and his colleagues; and all the holy ones throughout our centuries of exile who preserved their Jewishness and were willing to give  - and actually gave - their lives for it during the Crusades, the Inquisition, and the pogroms; and the six million who were wiped out during the Holocaust. 

Our soldiers today are meriting to wage war in the Israel Defense Forces in the name of all the generations of our history, on behalf of our independence and our national honor. 

May it be G-d's will that in the merit of the tremendous mitzvah that they are fulfilling, we will be privileged to destroy those who wish to harm us, to settle the Land, to absorb Aliyah from all over the world, and to fulfill the great vision from the days of our Patriarch Abraham of establishing a nation of justice, charity and G-d's way that will be a blessing for all peoples.

May it be G-d's will that the sturdy spirit of our soldiers inspire all sectors of our nation – and even our military, political and societal leaders. 

The soldiers who fell in these battles, thus sanctifying G-d's name, merited to rise beyond their individual levels, all the way up to the level of Jewish national sanctity. They already have their large share in the World to Come, while we here below will strive with all our might to be worthy of their sacrifice and continue to walk in the true and correct path. And in their names and for the uplifting of their souls, we will add life and blessing. 

Understanding the Muslim Language

In the course of writing a work on Jewish faith vis-à-vis idolatry, and our relations with other religions, I have come to learn that not only is the Islamic religion significantly more combative than other religions, it also has a unique approach to the concept of "speech." Since we are at war with many practitioners of this religion, it behooves us to understand this. 

Words have great power in Islam. One can accept the Muslim religion simply by making the appropriate declaration, and a man can both betroth and divorce a woman simply by saying some specific words. It is no surprise, then, that the idea of what comprises truth and deception in Islam is also different than in the rest of the world. 

Generally, we understand speech to reflect reality; if it does not, it is a lie. In Islam, however, what one says is reality – and therefore he can say what he thinks should be the case, and does not feel that he is lying. Islam forbids what we call "lying" for egocentric purposes; it is permitted only if it serves the purposes of the correct values. But if one lies in order to portray infidels as wicked, this is considered the truth, because it serves the goals of the ultimate truth. They can even portray their defeats as victories, because in the end, their understanding of reality is that they will emerge victorious. 

There is more to elaborate on this topic. But one conclusion is that if we wish to truly deter our enemies, we must defeat them so decisively that they will not even be able to begin to exaggerate, deny, lie, and explain away the defeat as a victory. By acting as if they have not lost, their countrymen and coreligionists are encouraged to fight yet another war. Our victories must be total and absolute. There can be no half-victory and then assume that our enemies are "deterred;" they are not. We must strike them with full force, take over territories, and encourage them to emigrate.

When is it Time for Prayer? 

Prayer is very important – but sometimes, we must cut them short and take action instead. When the Children of Israel left Egypt, they soon found themselves at the Sea of Reeds with the Egyptians in hot pursuit – and they were scared. Moshe encouraged them and then began to pray, but Hashem stopped him: "Why do you cry out to Me? Speak to Bnei Yisrael and have them travel [through the sea]!" (Sh'mot 14,15)

Similarly, when one must rush a patient to the hospital, he should not take time out to pray. He must rather make sure to obtain medical help as quickly as possible, while whispering a prayer, if he wants, that does not cause any delay.

When a Jewish army goes out to war, a short prayer is offered up beforehand, but again, without causing any delay. For the main thing is to fulfill the tremendous mitzvot of "saving Israel from its enemies" and ensuring that the Land of Israel remains in our hands. 

The more we understand the value of the mitzvah at hand, the more value there is to the prayers that accompany it. But the more one denies the importance of the mitzvah that our soldiers are fulfilling, and believes that the main thing is to cry out to G-d – the prayer is actually valueless, and even worse. As is written: "He who turns his ear away from hearing [and fulfilling] the Torah, even his prayer is an abomination" (Proverbs 28,9). 

Two Talmudic Sages, R. Yirmiyah and R. Zera, expressed differing opinions (Tractate Shabbat, p. 10a) about whether one should interrupt his Torah studies in order to pray at the right time. But all agree that if one is engaged in Torah study or is about to fulfill a Torah commandment, this is not the right time to engage in prayer; Torah action and study come first.