Lecture #26b: Isolationism vs. Socialization - continued

  • Rav Tamir Granot



By Rav Tamir Granot


Shiur #26b: Isolationism vs. Socialization (continued)



Let us briefly review the contradictory elements in Rav Kook's teachings in the social realm and in the cultural-educational realm.


Social Realm


On the one hand, Rav Kook emphasizes the obligation to love every person, and certainly every fellow Jew – even sinners. On the other hand, he speaks in favor of secluding the individual who seeks to attain piety from the masses, with their mundane aspirations.[1]


In one place, he writes that thoughts about holiness must include an element of social betterment; otherwise, they are deficient. Elsewhere, he justifies the price that is paid for isolationism at the expense of society and the sense of belonging to it.[2] The idea of the unity of Knesset Yisrael and its various parts occupies a central place in his thought.[3] Nevertheless, he speaks of the need for separation between the various sectors of society.[4]


Cultural realm

 Rav Kook often speaks about the kernel of truth in every view and about the manifestations of goodness and Divine will in every ideal phenomenon in the world. He also writes about the contribution of philosophy and sciences to our understanding of ourselves.


Nevertheless, when it comes to an educational program, we find no pedagogic curriculum that includes the study of secular disciplines. There is no doubt that Rav Kook's ideas were revolutionary in their time, but the curriculum which he planned for a yeshiva, for example, included only study of different branches of Judaism. Alexandrov's suggestion of establishing a beit midrash for rabbis that would also include secular culture and philosophy was likewise rejected.[5] Rav Kook was familiar with the "Torah Im Derekh Eretz" school, but despite all his talk about it, he did not permit the teaching of secular subjects in cheders.


This point must be viewed in a broader context. Rav Kook functioned as the Rabbi of the "old yishuv" – the ancient, pietist Jewish community – in Jerusalem, and later as the Chief Rabbi of Palestine. The model of absolute separatism was maintained by the old yishuv, and especially by its more extremist elements. Clearly, in contrast with the Eda Charedit, Rav Kook's approach was quite different. We shall address a few words to the motives behind the isolationism of the charedi society and then return to the stance adopted by Rav Kook.[6]


     The ideology of isolationism and separatism is a most central element in charedi life in general, and amongst the Eda Charedit in particular. Part of the conflict that developed among the leadership of the old yishuv concerning whether or not to accept Rav Kook as the rabbi of the Ashkenazi community in Jerusalem after World War I arose from the fact that the leaders of the Eda feared that he would undermine the ideology of isolation that erected a wall between the charedi community and the outside world. The leaders viewed this seclusion as vital to the preservation of the religious way of life and education, as they perceived them.


Studies conducted among radically conservative religious communities  that exist alongside a modern and liberal society (such as the Amish sect in the US) have indicated common characteristics in their perceptions of isolation and have developed parameters for measuring the extent and depth of the isolation that is maintained.[7]


     In general, we discern two main types of isolationism or seclusion: 

·       Ecological isolationism

·       Sociometric isolationism


Ecological isolationism is expressed in two main areas:

-  Separate housing, in separate areas

-  Non-participation in organizations and institutions which would usually bring the inhabitants of that town or country together in a spirit of cooperation as a result of common interests, needs, or sense of common fate.


Ecological isolationism is easy to measure because it is expressed in measurable facts. For instance, it is clear that there is a distinct phenomenon of ghettoization among charedi communities in Israel, which began with the old yishuv in Jerusalem. As the charedi community grows and spreads, it is increasingly concentrated in ghettos. In addition, the position of the Eda Charedit leadership (Rabbis Zonnenfeld and Diskin, and later also Blau and Rabinowitz) was that all forms of organizational cooperation with bodies that were outside of the Eda and which did not accept its values must be avoided. Thus, for example, the leadership of the Eda avoided cooperating with the institutions of the Jewish settlement (the Zionist pioneers), and later the National Council (Va'ad Leumi), and later still with the Jerusalem municipality and the State of Israel in general. The blanket non-enlistment in the IDF to this day arises first and foremost from the ideology of isolationism, and only afterwards from issues related to Torah study or the conditions necessary for observing mitzvot properly.


Yehuda Liebes noted an interesting connection between the rhetoric and ideology of the Eda Charedit and the writings of the Qumran sect, which reflect a similar model of social and ideological conduct.[8] I believe that an understanding of the concept behind sects may shed light on the phenomenon of isolationism in the charedi community.


In every society, there are different sectors with various properties pertaining to social and/or economic status, culture, religion, internal language, and even leadership. The historical and sociological question is at what point a certain group within society is transformed from a regular group into a sect. A sect is a sort of social enclave that exists within the general national environment, possessing clear boundaries despite its fundamental belonging to the greater civic group (territorially, administratively, ethnically, etc.). What, then, defines a group as a sect? We may ask further: which historical or social situation catalyzes the development and growth of such enclaves within the greater society?[9]


In order to address this question, let us consider the processes that led to the flourishing of the sects during the Second Temple Period. This historical instance serves as an excellent example of the phenomena we are discussing. The sects at the time of the Second Temple did indeed maintain themselves, for the most part, as enclaves within the general society. Let us briefly review them and their characteristics:


During the Second Temple Period, starting from the time of the Hasmonean rule, there were four main sect-enclaves: the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Qumran sect, and the Essenes (some scholars count the latter two as the same group). All of these groups stand out as having special codes of affiliation, serving to define their members. Some of these codes related to halakhic issues, such as marriage bans, a status of ritual purity required for the consumption of food, etc. In other words, there were particular – usually stringent – halakhic norms that represented a sort of test for membership in the group, and thus also served to define it.


These sects sometimes also had unique social features. Thus, for example, the Qumran sect and the Essenes appear to have lived with no structure of a family unit; some scholars claim that they were men-only groups. On the socio-economic level, too, there was a fixed arrangement of joint property. The members of the sect also had defined and limited areas of occupation.


The Pharisees and Sadducees did not create ecological seclusion; they lived among the general population. The Essenes and the Qumran members, in contrast, viewed distance from the "bourgeois" center and the political administration as a vital component in the molding of the sect.


Another aspect of the definition of sects is their attitude towards the general society and the administration, as expressed in their writings and, more broadly, in their ideology. The perception of the administration as an evil regime – for example, among the Qumran members – is one of the defining factors serving to create the enclave that severs itself from the institutional system. Likewise, the Pharisees separated themselves from the competing sect – the Sadducees.


Attention should be paid to the fact that the sects were generally not large. To the extent that the internal norms are more severe and radical, the sect will be smaller. According to different estimates, the 4 sects discussed above did not number more than 20,000 members – a relatively small number in relation to the general population. Most of the population was unaffiliated, and generally identified with the center and with the regime, for ideological and/or pragmatic reasons. However, there were wider circles of identification that included even some people who were located – socially – outside of the enclave, but supported its thinking, admired its leaders, etc. The existence of such external circles is noticeable especially around the moderate enclaves, such as the Pharisees and Sadducees.


Why, then, did these sects flourish specifically during the Second Temple Period, and especially under Hasmonean rule (2nd century B.C.E. until the Destruction)? I propose two explanations which I believe to be of central importance, and which might contribute to our understanding of sectarian processes in our own times:


a.   All the sects were conservative in relation to the dominant line in society. Despite all the differences between them, the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes were all enclaves of pronounced traditional religious observance, while the surrounding society adopted, in varying degrees, new cultural modes, especially Hellenist influences. Judaism itself existed as an enclave in relation to the surrounding culture. The framework of the Jewish enclave was defined by the laws of kashrut, ritual purity and impurity, marriage bans, etc. The gradual adoption of Hellenistic culture therefore represented an erosion of the status and power of the national enclave.

Hence, the sects were a response to the loss of traditional continuity and, along with it, the particular identity of the masses and their leadership – the enclave ceased to exist as such. The feeling among some parts of the nation was that this was a massive drift and deterioration in the religious and moral realm, with such enormous power (an objective fact, in view of the dominance of the Hellenistic culture) that there was no hope of influencing it from within. The obvious conclusion was that the only way to preserve identity was by creating an enclave within society, which, owing to its elitist character and small size, and because of the mechanisms of education and the strong barriers, could replace the mediocre, corrupt environment.

b.   To this we must add the specific expectations that the nation had of the Hasmonean leadership in particular and of this period in general. The Hasmonean revolution was a response to a process of acute loss of identity and spiritual corruption, as they themselves viewed it. The Hasmonean leadership aroused messianic expectations, owing to the visibly religious character of the new leadership, the purification of the Temple, and also the religious and national renewal. Unquestionably, those who viewed the Jewish religion as the center of the nation's existence pinned great hopes on this new leadership. However, they were disappointed; at almost the very moment that the Hasmonean kingdom reached its apogee, it began to adopt Hellenistic modes of administration and culture. The disillusion at the failure of the visions of redemption to materialize was bitter. This was disillusion at the central government and led naturally enough to lack of faith in the establishment. The sects, as noted, were an attempt to find an alternative to the central government which had disappointed the people, while nurturing hopes that the messianic visions could be realized in relation to an enclave that lived an ideal religious life and was therefore worthy of redemption.

This view is especially apparent among the Qumran members, who regarded themselves as "people of the light" and viewed the possibility of redemption as applying only to themselves. Among the Pharisees and, seemingly also the Sadducees, this view assumed a more moderate tone. In order to understand why, we must draw a distinction between two fundamental forms of enclave:

-  A secluded ("introvert") enclave which removes itself altogether from society, such as the Qumran sect and the Essenes.

-  An activist (or "reformist"[10]) enclave, which establishes a separate framework for itself, but does so with the hope of influencing the central culture and the establishment and changing them. The activist enclave, with its constructivist position, usually does not negate the legitimacy of the establishment, and may even cooperate with it, despite moral and cultural differences. The expectation is that redemption will come as a result of the influence of the enclave on society as a whole.


Let us now go back and examine Rav Kook's ideology and its continuation among his students and Religious Zionists. According to the various parameters defining a sectarian view, can we say that Rav Kook supported a sect-like mode of life or not?


At first glance, it would seem clear that Rav Kook's position was quite different. I am not familiar with any expression emanating from him in favor of ecological seclusion, and his choice of dwelling in Yaffo and afterwards in Jerusalem (outside the boundaries of the charedi neighborhood) support this.[11] From the organizational point of view, Rav Kook was fervently in favor of cooperation with the secular, Zionist institutions, and in a certain sense even regarded cooperation between different streams with opposing ideologies as a positive phenomenon.[12] Admittedly, he founded the Degel Yerushalayim movement outside of the Zionist movement, but it seems that it was not an inclination towards seclusion that was at work here, but rather an attempt to create a super-party body with objectives that were different from those of the organized Zionist movement. His connections with all parts of the public, on the most practical level, were diverse – and not only because of his position. One might say that he viewed his role as a springboard to creating bonds whose significance was public, rather than personal. Mention should also be made of his vehement opposition to the idea of the separation of communities, which arose towards the end of his life, when some people proposed importing the concept from Europe.[13]


We may say, in general, that the history of Religious Zionism, in sociological terms, has generally reflected a continuation of this position of Rav Kook. Religious Zionism, with its different branches, has always supported political partnership in national as well as municipal leadership, service in the IDF (although for a shorter period, but not out of a desire for separatism), and life amongst secular society. The establishment of residential enterprises such as Ha-Kibbutz Ha-Dati (the Religious Kibbutz Movement) does not, in and of itself, testify to a trend toward separatism; the Religious Kibbutz Movement certainly maintains no such ideology. And homogenous communities with strong ideological foundations, such as some of the settlements in Judea and Samaria, have counterparts reflecting different ideological positions (communities based on socialism, secularism, etc.).[14]  

The second yardstick for separatism is, as noted, the sociometric measurement. By this we refer, first and foremost, to the aspirations and feelings that a certain community has towards another, an assessment of it. In order words, we are talking to a considerable degree about the quality of relations prevailing between the different communities, as expressed on the emotional level – for example, in the names or labels that one community attaches to another, etc. Another realm which arises largely from this is the cultural realm – that is, the negative assessment or perception of a community is usually related to its culture and values being viewed as inferior or negative. The sociological result of such an assessment is that action is taken to diminish its cultural influence, and even to negate it completely if possible. In charedi society, and particularly amongst the Eda Charedit, Zionists in general, and secular Zionists in particular, are perceived as criminals. The fact that a secular Israeli Jew is not a committed, observant believer is not and cannot be viewed as a problem of belief and opinion alone. A Shabbat-desecrator is a criminal; his moral personality is inferior. Where there is rejection of religion, the entire culture associated with it, whether as part of either its cause or its effect, is shunned along with that rejection.

The Eda Charedit maintains a categorical rejection of modern culture, in its moral and essential sense. The charedi world does at times employ the tools of this culture – technology, medicine, transport, etc. – but only where their value is perceived as being purely instrumental. This seclusion from culture leads to educational frameworks which leave no room for the study of subjects or the instruction of people related to general, secular culture. It minimizes media consumption and gives rise to prohibitions on purchasing cultural products such as books, works of art, etc. The externalization of differentness is achieved through uniformity of dress, based on the deliberate desire to create clear identification signs and a separation between the secluded charedi community and the street. Anachronistic dress serves this purpose particularly well, since it indicates at the same time the community's conservative character and its bond with the dated qua dated.[15]


Attention should be paid to the fact that all the parameters discussed thus far are viewed by the Halakha with indifference. Places of residence, sociometric assessment, dress, and organizational membership are neither supported nor opposed by halakhic rulings, in the narrow sense. The issue is maintained on the social level. Theoretically, there is no contradiction between meticulous halakhic observance on the individual or communal level and an integrative social ideology. On the practical level, however, the charedi leadership believes that they are incompatible.


According to the concepts we have discussed above, there is no doubt that charedi society maintains itself as a sect in relation to general society. The extremist factions may be defined as a secluded enclave, and the resemblance to the processes during the Second Temple Period is unmistakable. The breaching of the walls of the Jewish enclave during the 19th century and the Jewish identification with secular culture led to the creation of a small enclave – the charedi community – which continues the path of the larger enclave that disappeared into modern life, in some instances adopting positions even more radical than the standards of that new culture.


On this level, too, Rav Kook's views appear to be altogether different. One of the most audacious and controversial elements of his thought was the recognition that heresy was not necessarily the result of criminality and moral inferiority; sometimes, it was an expression of the highest demands and aspirations of the soul, which could find no satisfaction in the standard halakhic framework. Rav Kook, as we know, admired the idealism of the secular pioneers in Israel, viewing it as one of the clearest signs of redemption. Without elaborating on this point, it is clear that we would expect this position in principle to influence his social ideology. Rav Kook, too, perceived the processes of the breaching of the enclave as a crisis, but a constructive one, part of a dialectical process leading towards development and elevation. On the cultural level, too, it must be said that Rav Kook valued the truths he discerned in the developing western culture and in the spiritual world of the pioneers. Specifically, there were many values espoused by the people of the new yishuv and their spiritual leadership that were dear to him, including socialism, freedom, the call for creativity, nationalism, etc. We are also familiar with Rav Kook's positive vision for the Hebrew University and for the Betzalel School of Arts.


All of these elements should logically have produced an ideology of "Torah with Derekh Eretz," cultural involvement, a broad education, and a call for integration – but this was not the case.[16] Culturally and educationally, pragmatically, Rav Kook supported seclusion and the maintenance of an enclave with thick boundaries.


Let us consider the conclusions of our analysis thus far:


The contrast in Rav Kook's thought between the trend to separatism and the trend to integration and socialization appears to be a contrast between philosophy and practice. On the ideal level, Rav Kook's teachings contain none of the principles which are usually the basis for separatism and seclusion. On the practical level – at least in the realm of education and educational relations – there is separation in practice. Why did Rav Kook himself not propose the model of a yeshiva high school, such that when this new model of institution arose, it was perceived as a second-rate option?[17]


Why did Rav Kook never dream up the idea of an academic yeshiva, something along the lines of Yeshiva University? After all, many of the problems that he foresaw in his deliberations concerning Hebrew University or the Betzalel School – and which were indeed realized in these two institutions – would never have come about in an institution under yeshiva auspices, if initiatives related to secular culture could have been nurtured, in a deliberate manner, from within the religious world.


Furthermore, in an excerpt which explicitly and deliberately addresses the problem of separatism, Rav Kook rules that the separatist approach is in fact the correct approach, and the "generalization" – his term for the attempt at social integration between sectors with completely different languages and spiritual aspirations – would inflict both spiritual and social harm:


This is the inheritance of God in all matters of holiness – separation for the sake of unification, the opposite of crude generalization, which speaks nobly about uniting everything into one package, and thus loses all spiritual glory and majesty. In the end, the darkening of life dims the light of clear thought, and the crude, unique love of every creation becomes stronger and poisonous, to the point that everything separates and the entire world moves like a drunk weighed down by sin. The “other side” begins with unification and ends with separation; the side of holiness starts with separation and ends with unification. (Orot Ha-kodesh II, p. 439)


Rav Kook illustrates his view with the analogy of the separation between Israel and the other nations and between kohanim and rest of Am Yisrael, as well as the distinction between "chaverim" – fellow members of the pietist community – and the ignorant masses. The last example is of special importance, because in contrast to the first two, it is not the result of a Divine decree or a given metaphysical difference. It is a social and historical policy decision, within clearly defined circumstances, aimed at creating a social barrier between two Jewish sectors, while the difference between them was much smaller than the chasm separating the secular and religious sectors in our times. Spiritual aspirations, progress and elevation in Torah, and/or the desire for a life of purity characterized the lives of the "chaverim," causing them to put up a rigid barrier – to the extent of not providing social assistance to secular ignoramuses who were not part of their community:


The chaverim, special individuals, in separating from the ignorant (amei ha-aretz), thereby protect their lofty aspirations, which are far greater than all ordinary values, and they become the bearers of qualities and concepts that – when they are spread – are a source of blessing for the public. Their solidification in life leads to the very foundation of life, which finds it value in them and proceeds towards its eternal and temporary purpose. (Ibid.)


The immediate significance of this is its support for the creation of separate communities with thick boundaries between them and other communities.[18] While Rav Kook asserts that this separation is ultimately for the sake of connecting, it is not clear how this is to happen. He provides no program – for example, to have young people secluded for thirty years and then go out to establish kollels in development towns. This also does not seem to be his intention.


I believe that in the cultural/educational sphere as well as in the social sphere, we may summarize as follows: The contrast inherent in the writings of Rav Kook is not the result of contradictory metaphysical statements or contradictory moral perceptions. His opinion as to the positive elements that are to be found in the general culture are clear. His view in favor of the secular pioneers and in favor of national activity and the array of issues that it involves are likewise clear. In the organizational realm, he certainly supports a trend towards integration and opposes seclusion. Concerning the question of residence, I have no clear proof, and it is possible that Rav Kook did not enjoy the array of possibilities that are familiar to us today. The contrast, then, is located in the encounter between his metaphysics and the practical ideology which he maintains. In other words, the self-evident implications of his philosophical positions are absent; in their place, we find support for social separation, educational institutions devoted solely to Torah education, and the creation of a barrier to keep out external culture. On the personal level, it is clear that Rav Kook's dress likewise identified him as charedi – but here, too, we have no way of knowing whether this was a matter of principle or a personal choice arising from his position and the tradition he was used to.


Among Rav Kook's students and followers, too, we see a trend towards separatism and even a strengthening of this trend. We may point to certain groups among Religious Zionists, especially among the students of Merkaz Ha-Rav yeshiva and its outgrowths and the settlements that define themselves as "Torani," as miniature enclaves. Their nationalist ideology in no way mitigates this. Of course, the Religious Zionist enclaves are not isolationist. They are activist communities – meaning, they seek to bring about change in the central leadership and culture. This is also the reason for their cooperation on the practical level, as was the custom among the Pharisees and Sadducees. Nevertheless, most of the conditions of an enclave exist. There is cultural separation – such as, for example, particular media (Arutz 7, Makor Rishon, etc., and non-consumption of general media); limitations on cultural consumption (semi-censored literature and art); meticulous attention to special dress codes (to my mind, the stringent standards concerning head-coverings, long skirts, and other items of clothing, and the battle to enforce them, comes as part of the quest for signs of separation, rather than necessarily the reflection of a purely halakhic ideology.) Settlement, especially in homogenous communities, completes this process through physical distancing from the general population's centers and the creation of "ecological" separation.


One of the most distinct symbols of the enclave is the – sometimes unconscious – creation of an internal code of speech, which is unintelligible outside of the enclave. It would seem that in this sphere, too, we might say that an internal language exists among the students of Rav Kook and his school, to the point where an outsider would not understand, for example, a shiur on Jewish belief at any of the yeshivot that are outgrowths of Yeshivat Merkaz Ha-rav.


This perspective allows us a better understanding of several processes which have taken place in Religious Zionism in recent years. The source of these processes, and the kernel of the struggles that have come about, relate to the idea (which, of course, has its distinct charedi parallel) that "our people" must exist as an enclave, and that the enclave must be fortified.[19]


The same contrast that we have demonstrated on the social level also exists on the personal level. On one hand, Rav Kook talks about the inclusion of the individual in the soul, or life-force, of the nation, and the organic relationship and fundamental bond between the individual and the community. On the other hand, he shows support for asceticism and personal seclusion, expresses empathy with feelings of spiritual foreignness to the atmosphere of society at large, and on the practical level recommends meditation for the purposes of spiritual development. Almost nowhere in all of this does he create the model for a process: first isolation, then action on behalf of society. He seems to be referring to a permanent situation of inner quest for spiritual elevation. Thus, while Rav Kook's metaphysics is all about unity, his practical recommendation is asceticism and individualism.


If all of the above is correct, then what we detect here is a phenomenon that also exists in other areas of Rav Kook's teachings. An excellent example of a similar state of affairs to the one described above is to be found in the realm of Halakha. Halakhic philosophy is one of the central areas to which Rav Kook addressed himself. His vision concerning Halakha is wide-ranging. Essentially, he formulated the difference between the "Torah (teaching) of Eretz Yisrael" and the "teaching outside of the land." As he explains it, both the in-depth study and the halakhic rulings up until his time were characterized by an exilic form of thought and action. Rav Kook called for a synthesis of Halakha with other areas of religious study, such as Aggada, kabbalah, and the textual study of Tanakh. He spoke about the inner, quasi-prophetic inspiration which should imbue the ruling of Halakha in Eretz Yisrael. He depicts the Oral Law as the manifestation of the collective soul of Knesset Yisrael, which by definition reveals God's will in the world, in accordance with the Written Law. He analyzed further the gradual and historical nature of the revelation of God's will in reality. Despite all of this, the body of his own halakhic rulings and scholarly writings remains conventional and conservative, with little innovation. Many have struggled with this contrast in his oeuvre.[20] Some reached the conclusion that a dialectic is involved;[21] others sought to explain it in terms of outside circumstances and pressures and the desire to preserve his status. Still others protest: What Rav Kook proposed is enough. One single person cannot bring such a vast array of new ideas into the world and also put them directly into practice!


I believe that none of these responses touches on the root of the chasm in Rav Kook's teachings. The root is to be found in the same place where we find the difference between his unifying philosophy and his sometimes secluding, separationist practice.


I believe that the contrast between Rav Kook's thought (his philosophy or metaphysics) and his practical ideology must be addressed as a whole. The analysis in and of itself also has explanatory power, and allows for a classification of his different statements. It seems that Rav Kook does explain himself from the theoretical point of view. In other words, even if he does not specifically address the gap that exists between a certain educational program or halakhic ruling and his moral, spiritual positions, I believe that he does explain quite thoroughly the relations between theory as such, and practice, along with every practical position.


The issue that should be viewed as the gateway to understanding all of these questions is the "kodesh." Rav Kook's discussion of the concept of holiness includes the theoretical program with which and from within which we may also address the problems that we have raised.[22]


(To be continued)


Translated by Kaeren Fish

[1]  See Orot Ha-kodesh III, 317-329; concerning the sense of foreignness see ibid. 267-274.

[2]  See Orot Ha-kodesh III, 179-180; ibid. 270-271

[3] See, for example, the article on political parties – "Ma'amar Ha-miflagot" in Orot, as well as Orot 68, and elsewhere.

[4] For example, Orot Ha-kodesh IV, 498; II, 395; see also below.

[5] See Iggerot I, 41 onwards.

[6]  See Menachem Friedman, Chevra ve-Dat (Yad Ben Zvi: Jerusalem, 5738). Friedman's other works likewise provide important background to our subject. Chevra ve-Dat deals with the molding of charedi society during Rav Kook's time, and is therefore of particular relevance. Our review here is largely based on Friedman's studies and analysis of processes.

[7]  Meir Prestman and Michael Chen, Megamot 34:4, 563-581.

[8]  Yehuda Liebes, Mechkarei Yerushalayim be-Machshevet Yisrael 3 (5742), 137-152.

[9] See Albert Baumgarten, Ha-Kitatiyut bi-Yemei Bayit Sheni (Jerusalem, 2001), esp. chapters 2-6, 10. Thorough analyses are to be found in the works of Mary Douglas, "Atonement in Leviticus," J.S.K.R. 1 (1993-1994), 109-130. See further references in Baumgarten, p. 118.

[10]  As Baumbarten refers to this; see above, n. 9.

[11]  Admittedly, at that time the range of possibilities open to him was very limited.

[12]  See "Ma'amar Ha-miflagot," Orot.

[13]  As attested by R. Neria. It should be noted that other gedolim from Eastern Europe and in Israel were also not in favor of the idea; see, for example, the letter by R. Chaim Ozer, published in R. Neria's collection, and the sources he cites there.

[14]  Admittedly, the phenomenon of settlement in Judea and Samaria does also reflect some elements of an isolationist ideology, if other factors are also taken into account. We shall discuss this further in the final shiur of this series. See also the article in Megamot.

[15]  For more on this point, see the analysis of the concept of the enclave in general in Emmanuel Sivan, "Tarbut Ha-muvla'at," Alpayim 4 (5752): 45-98.

[16]  See the letter of Shlomo Zalman Pines at the end of Part III of Rav Kook's Letters, in the Appendices, where he warns Rav Kook that German Jewish Orthodoxy was going to establish schools according to its vision (Torah with Derekh Eretz), and that he assumes that Rav Kook agrees that the soul (of the school) should remain as in the Talmudei Torah and yeshivot in Eastern Europe, with only the "body" being western in its structure.

[17]  See the interview with R. Moshe Tzvi Neria cited by Yoske Achituv in his article in De'ot, Journal of Ne'emanei Torah Va-Avoda 2-3 (5758-5759).

[18]  I borrow the term "thick boundaries" from academic research on personality types. What it means is the prevention of any trickling of "otherness" from the outside into the personality. A "thin boundary" maintains personal identity while allowing the passage inward of ideas, possibilities, etc. See: Ha-acher Ba-chevra U-vetochenu, Menachem Ben Sasson and Chayim Deutch (eds.) (Jerusalem, 2002), especially the article by Prof. Shmuel Ehrlich, which serves as the book's introduction.

[19]  For further reading concerning the ideological and social processes characterizing Religious Zionism, and especially the followers of Rav Kook, including on issues relating to this article, readers are directed to the following works by Dov Schwartz: Emuna Al Parashat Derakhim (Am Oved, 5756); Etgar u-Mashber be-Chug ha-Rav Kook (Sifriyat Ofakim, 5761); Ha-tzionut ha-Datit Bein Higayon li-Meshichiyut (Sifriyat Ofakim, 1999), up to p. 137.

[20] Natan Rottenstreich, Iyyunim be-Machshava ha-Yehudit ba-Zman ha-Zeh (Jerusalem 1978); Eliezer Schweid, Chashiva me-Chadash (Jerusalem, 1991), the chapter on Rav Kook; Schweid, Nevi'im le-Amam u-le-Enoshut (Jerusalem, 1991), the chapter on Rav Kook. These are just a few examples.

[21]  Avinoam Rosenak, "Ha-Halakha ha-Nevu'it ve-ha-Metzi'ut bi-Pesikato shel ha-Rav Kook," Tarbitz 69:4 (5760), 591-618; Rosenak, "Halakha, Aggada u-Nevu'ah be-Eretz Yisrael le-Or Torat Achdut ha-Hafachim shel ha-Rav Kook," Me'ah Shenot Tzionut Datit 1 (5763), 261-285; Rosenak, "Chinukh u-Meta-Halakha be-Mishnat ha-Rav Kook," Da'at 46 (5761), 99-123. Rosenak proposes that this phenomenon in the realm of Halakha be explained through the principle of "achdut ha-hafachim" (unity of opposites) – that is, that opposite poles are perceived simultaneously as being true and as finding expression; Halakha is one such pole. I shall not elaborate here, since this is not the central thesis of the present article. See also Michael Tzvi Nehorai, "He'arot le-Darko shel ha- Rav Kook bi-Pesika," Tarbitz 59:3-4 (5750), 481-505; Chaggai Ben-Artzi, "Darko shel ha-Rav Kook ke-Idiolog u-ke-Posek Halakha," in Masa El ha-Halakha (2003), 177-195.

[22]  Tzvi Yaron, in his book Mishnato ha-Iyynit shel ha-Rav Kook (Jerusalem, 5734), 131-166, discusses the problem of asceticism and socialization, but does not develop the idea in the same direction that we have taken here.