The Two Sides of Justice

One of the most pivotal Torah admonitions, which appears in conjunction with the commandments to establish a court system is, “Justice, justice shall you pursue.”[1] A natural question, asked by commentators, is why the word “justice” is repeated. In light of all that has been discussed above regarding the sense of compromise, we can understand the repetition to signify that the Torah is urging anyone in the role of judge or mediator to seek out justice on both sides of a question. Ultimately, the common denominator uniting all parties in an argument is God Himself, Whose essential Oneness encompasses all points of view. Torah serves as His instrument to make peace and build a just society.

Making the most of Torah wisdom, King Solomon gained the respect of his people as an inspired judge. The most famous example of the cases he adjudicated was the dispute of the two women who both claimed the same baby as their own.[2]

The two women reported before the king that they had both given birth in the same inn within days of each other, but one of the babies had died due to the negligence of the mother who had suffocated him accidentally in her sleep. Now the accusation was being made that this mother subsequently switched her own dead baby with the other woman’s live child. Nothing identified the infant as to which woman he truly belonged.

As the two women argued before the king, each swearing the child was hers, Solomon called for a sword to be brought to him. “Cut the living child in two,” he ordered, “and give half to one and half to the other.”

In response to the king’s order, one woman began to plead, “Please, my lord, give her the living infant, and do not put it to death!” But the other woman defiantly declared, “Neither mine nor yours shall he be. Cut!”

By threatening to cut the baby in half,[3] King Solomon “shocked” the true mother into expressing her love, compassion, and selflessness, thus clarifying the truth. Only the real mother would love her baby so much that she could selflessly give him up in order to save him.

King Solomon then pronounced his judgment: “Give her the living newborn and do not put it to death; she is his mother.”

This, of course, is not an example of compromise. Although the sages preferred compromise whenever possible, it does not mean that strict judgment is somehow negative or never to be employed. It would be the epitome of binary logic to actually pit strict judgment versus compromise.

The Torah is called both a “Torah of truth” and a “Torah of loving-kindness.”[4] Judgment and compassion[5] are two necessary aspects of God’s unity manifest in our world. Every individual spends a lifetime learning to balance and harmonize these two aspects, until true inner peace is created. Torah comes to assist this process by establishing the basic framework of human conduct and interaction based on God’s wisdom and love of His creation.

The opportunity to exercise judgment and facilitate compromise is available to every person in a host of situations on a daily basis. The choice is ever present to judge others favorably, always looking to emulate both Aaron by pursuing and creating peace and Joshua by establishing a personal rapport with all people.

The teaching of the sages that each individual is as important as a whole world[6] not only develops self-esteem, but also underscores the value of each human being and the awesome responsibility we bear in rectifying “our” world. Leadership is not the exclusive realm of the elite or powerful, but rather is a virtue to be developed and expressed by everyone in all facets of life. Every person has the chance to assume a position of leadership no matter how small the circle of influence. As stated earlier, the Ultimate Leader will be revealed when enough individuals develop their leadership potential.

The Ultimate Leader—as part of his leadership role—will be first and foremost a teacher and a judge. By establishing a soul-connection with all the people, he will lay a foundation of judgment based on peace and compromise.

As the Messianic era quickly approaches and as the world continues to change at breathtaking speed, it becomes increasingly important to pursue the inner spiritual work needed to reveal the truth of Torah and the peace that is its essence.

To save a life is to save a world, and to bring the Ultimate Leader even one step closer to fulfilling his mission is ultimately to redeem the entire world.

3 - Second Dynamic

The Drive for Wholeness

The inner motivation of the first dynamic of leadership, the art of compromise, is a sincere desire for peace, and the secret of peace is wholeness.

Peace and wholeness are inextricably linked. The Hebrew word for “peace” (shalom) derives from the word for “perfect, whole, complete” (shalem). This, then, is the second dynamic of leadership—a belief in an ultimate utopian state of peace, perfection, and wholeness, which though not fully achievable in the present, is nevertheless a goal to which one should aspire. It is precisely because perfection always seems to be just beyond reach that a true leader must stretch his every faculty to be “ahead of his time.” By so doing, he draws the future into the present, bringing a state of transcendence into normative reality.

When a leader manifests this state of transcendence he appears, at least to an outsider, to be leading in a supernatural or miraculous manner. But to those close to him, the supernatural seems perfectly natural; they become so accustomed to the extraordinary qualities he embodies that, after a while, they take the miraculous almost for granted, because it has become part of their world order. Thus the aura of leadership is created not by just theorizing about rectifying reality, but by actually creating the atmosphere and circumstances in which people can experience wholeness and inner peace in the present.

This is not to suggest that a leader depends on miracles; indeed he does not.[1] Rather, by living just beyond his capabilities, he cultivates his deepest reservoirs of potential, transmuting the supernatural into the natural.

In Hassidic thought this is referred to as living on a plane “one handbreath above ground.” Rabbi Shmuel of Lubavitch[2] taught that when confronted with an obstacle, one should simply jump over it, because in so doing, one will nullify its existence. Whereas every obstacle in our finite world has a limit, the soul has none—it always has the potential to draw upon its unlimited, infinite, eternal source.

Two of the best Biblical examples of those who leapt over obstacles are Mordechai and Esther—the hero and heroine of Purim whose story is told in the Book of Esther.

In the days following the Babylonian exile, when the Jews chafed under the domination of the Persians, Mordechai stubbornly refused to bow to Haman, the king’s chief minister, seeing this act as a violation of the Torah’s prohibition against bowing down to any power other than God.

Enraged, by what he perceived as one Jew’s arrogance, Haman devised a plot to exterminate all the Jews within the empire.

A decree went out, signed by the king, ordering a wholesale massacre of the Jews on the 13^th day of the month of Adar. Despite what must have seemed as insurmountable odds, Mordechai did not plunge into despair. Rather, he instructed his ward, Esther—who some years before had been inducted into the king’s harem and who now was queen—to petition the king to overturn the decree.

The risks for Esther were enormous. She would have to approach the king unbidden, an offense punishable by death; and, if she survived, then she would have to reveal her secret Jewish identity. Struck by the magnitude of the obstacles before her, Esther hesitated. But Mordechai spurred her on, matter-of-factly declaring:

“If you persist in keeping silent at a time like this, relief and deliverance will come to the Jews from another place, while you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether it was just for such a time as this that you attained the royal position.”[3]

Totally convinced by Mordechai’s argument, Esther agreed to risk her life and try to save her people. She told Mordechai:

“Go, assemble all the Jews to be found in Shushan, and fast for me. Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day. I, with my maids, will fast also. Then I will go to the King though it is unlawful. And if I perish, I perish.”[4]

Esther won, of course. The Jews were saved. Through determined effort, Esther and Mordechai overcame all obstacles and turned the tables so completely that Haman was hanged on the very gallows he had constructed for Mordechai.

The fact that God’s Name is never mentioned in the entire Book of Esther represents the miraculous manifesting itself in the historical process incognito, so much so that it appears totally natural.

Another important example of one who managed to transcend all earthly obstacles was King David, the exemplary leader who is perhaps the most beloved of all figures in the Bible precisely because he was so human. God graced him with a supernatural quality that allowed him to rise above all obstacles and defeat all foes. (The most famous of his victories is, of course, that over Goliath.)

It was King David who established Jerusalem as Israel’s eternal capital and paved the way for the eventual building of the Temple, the place where spiritual and material, infinite and temporal, unite. It is recorded[5] that ten continual miracles occurred while the First Temple, built by King David’s son, King Solomon, was standing. Inasmuch as the miracles were ongoing, they appeared to be part of the natural order.

The desire of the soul to transcend the limits of the natural order and strive for perfected reality—to “run and return” as discussed in the previous chapter—translates into attempts to manifest the infinite light of God within the finite reality of our world, in the here and now. We do not “run”—allowing the soul to fly upwards towards its source—in order to feel good or indulge the senses; we do so in order to glimpse a vision of perfection which then must be integrated into everyday life until it becomes our true nature—and that is the meaning of “return.”

The greater the obstacle, the higher we have to leap. Reaching beyond our apparent dualistic world of binary logic allows us to unify opposites, thus creating oneness and peace. At this elevated level we become aware that the essence of the spiritual longs to merge with the physical. When this union occurs, the result is—if even for a moment—the experience of peace, completeness, and perfection. Such precious, rare moments serve as the driving force in the soul to expand what is at first a fleeting experience and make it last longer and longer until it encompasses more and more of our reality.[6]

As difficult as this may be to believe, we know from history that such an experience was readily achievable in ages past. The Jewish tradition, from its inception to the present, brims with examples of men and women who could prophesy about the future and perform miracles. In the time of the First Temple there were “schools of prophecy,” where students were taught the Jewish tradition of expanded Divine consciousness. These teachings prepared the students to experience life in a holistic, unified manner, and to orient the soul to seek its own perfection in God’s oneness. The Talmud states that, while only forty-eight male and seven female prophets are specifically mentioned in the Bible due to the eternal nature of their message, there were in fact over a million prophets in Jewish history.[7]

As a general rule though, these people did not undertake to reveal the supernatural for their own sake or for the thrill of the altered-consciousness experience. Rather, the miracles they performed resulted from a direct command and experience of God, or as a solution to an extreme situation. For the prophet and miracle worker, the individual prophecy or miracle was not intended to be a one-time aberration, but a glimpse into a higher dimension of a perfected reality that could be revealed and experienced by everyone.[8] When some people were distressed that others were prophesying in the Israelite camp, Moses countered by expressing the wish, “Would it be that all the people of God were prophets!”[9]

In the Messianic era, when what we now consider miraculous will indeed be natural, we will reach such an elevated consciousness of perfect completeness that the wish of Moses will be fulfilled.

Indivisibility of Oneness

The achievement of wholeness and completeness depends on the total dedication of the soul to the extent that one is willing to give up one’s life for a holy cause.[1] In so doing, one reveals the highest level of the soul—the level referred to in Kabbalah as yechidah, “the single one” or “the unique one”—which transcends the confines of material plurality and separateness. At this level, the ultimate oneness and wholeness of God can be seen reflected in every aspect of reality.

Toward the end of bringing his people to this level of dedication and awareness, a leader inspires a group of diverse individuals to dedicate their lives and energies to one holy cause, thus molding them into a single entity which reveals the collective unity of yechidah.

An entity whose essence is wholeness is by definition indivisible. The Ba’al Shem Tov taught: “if you take hold of a part of an essence, you take hold of its entirety.”[2] Every moment of time, in potential, contains all of time; every point of space, in potential, contains all of space. Conversely though, if you take a part away from something that is by essence whole, you have blemished its perfection. This apparent paradox can only be resolved through total dedication of the soul.

We are taught in Kabbalah that there are three entities—each Divine in its source though existing on the physical plane— whose essence is defined by wholeness:

1. the Torah
2. the Jewish people
3. the land of Israel

If a Torah scroll lacks one letter or even part of a letter, the whole scroll is invalid until corrected. The six-hundred-thousand who went out of Egypt represent the totality of all primordial Jewish souls.[3] These souls correspond to the six-hundred-thousand letters of the Torah. Similar to a Torah scroll, which is invalidated by a blemish in even one letter, so are the Jewish people considered incomplete if even one soul is in pain or has strayed from his Jewish tradition. Therefore “all of Israel are responsible one for another.”

This is graphically illustrated by the story of the Jewish people’s initial entry into the Promised Land.[4] As the Book of Joshua relates,[5] when they reached the walls of Jericho—a heavily fortified city considered the gateway to the Promised Land—they circled it seven times and blew the shofar, only to see the walls fall down before their eyes. Commanded by God to complete the conquest, they were nevertheless forbidden to take any booty or any object belonging to the inhabitants as all was to be dedicated to God.

The Jews scrupulously followed this dictate, except for one person, Achan, who stole certain valuables.

Not realizing that something had gone terribly wrong, they moved on to the next city to be conquered, the city of Ai, and there met a tragic defeat with many of their number killed. Traumatized by the experience, they pleaded to know why God had abandoned them and in response God told them that the defeat was the result of one of their own having betrayed the integrity of the whole. [6]

The entirety of the Jewish people and their fate as a whole is here seen to be encapsulated in the persona and deeds of each individual Jew—as noted above, “if you take hold of a part of an essence, you take hold of its entirety.”

Like the Jewish people, the land of Israel is whole and the separation of even one part betrays, on some level, the totality of the rest. For this reason, all Messianic prophecies revolve around the Jewish people returning and redeeming the entire land of Israel. For only when all the Jewish people return to the complete Jewish homeland will Isaiah’s prophecy be fulfilled. Then the oneness of God, the source of all wholeness, will be obvious to the whole world, as Isaiah proclaims:

For from Zion shall come forth Torah, the word of God from Jerusalem. He [God] will judge among the nations and arbitrate for the many peoples. And they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore. [7]

A Caring Heart

It is taught in Hassidism that “there is nothing as whole as a broken heart.”[1] A broken heart is “whole” for it is the soul’s prerequisite state for conceiving wholeness. Only a broken heart is capable of identifying and empathizing with all that is presently broken in the world and motivating a person to rectify it. This degree of sensitivity, though, if not handled correctly, blinds one to the issues at hand and engulfs the soul in an emotional whirlpool. A perfect balance of caring and independent fortitude must be forged. No heart must be bigger, nor shoulders broader, than the individual who accepts the burden of leadership.

Too often, however, modern models of leadership err in the opposite direction—they appear as cold, calculating individuals, whose concern for those they represent is secondary to their own interest and struggle for political survival. Contemporary society has a strange fascination with those ruthless enough to rise to power and fame through any means necessary. But a true leader is defined by his compassionate caring for others, rather than by detachment.  Far from being insular, or above emotional attachment to his constituency, he works tirelessly for the sake of his community, leaving no stone unturned in his quest to assist others.

Compassion involves empathy of the most intimate nature, and the one who wishes to lead must have the utmost sensitivity to others’ pain, as it is written: “For the compassionate one will lead them.”[2]

Every person has daily opportunities to show compassion and understanding, and in so doing reveal his or her innate leadership qualities. Even small gestures of caring should not be underestimated—for the recipient as well as the giver.[3]

The best model of compassion in history—long before he became a leader, when he was just a simple shepherd—is none other than Moses. The Midrash[4] relates that God saw his innate leadership qualities in his tender care of the lambs in his charge. One day, as Moses was tending the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, a lamb scampered off, and Moses followed it. The little lamb kept running until it came upon a pool of water and there it stopped to drink. When Moses caught up with it, he said, “I did not know that you ran away because you were thirsty. I am so sorry that all this running has made you tired.” And he hoisted the lamb on his shoulder and carried it back to the herd. The Midrash concludes:

The Holy One then said: “Because you showed such compassion in tending the flock of a mortal, I vow that you shall become shepherd of Israel, the flock that is Mine.”

Moses was the leader who took the Jewish people out of Egypt and who brought them to Mt. Sinai where they received the Torah. Perhaps more than any one else, Moses understood the statement of the sages, “The secrets of the Torah are only given over to one who is worried in his heart.”[5]

The worry referred to here is not from a lack of trust or sense of security, nor is it caused by the transitory matters of this world; rather, it is a deep, existential uneasiness with our present imperfect reality. It is the worry that causes us to search and yearn for perfection and wholeness. True, we are taught to accept that “all is for the good” and that God is perfect, implying that all is exactly as it should be. On the other hand, it is clear that due to man’s free will, the world situation—at least from a superficial view—is less a reflection of God’s perfection than of man’s accumulated imperfections. More than just accepting the world as it is, we are commanded in the Torah and implored by the sages and prophets to become partners with God in rectifying and elevating the world.

The sincere probing of the heart and mind, and the worry and anxiety it causes, creates a vessel to receive the secrets of life and Torah in order to sweeten reality. Torah gives direction and meaning to life, and though it does not guarantee ease and comfort, it does insure that life’s inevitable struggles and trials are for a constructive purpose. The secrets of the Torah, when deeply integrated, help alleviate and sweeten the suffering all around us.

If the suffering of so many leaves no effect on the heart and mind, there is no motivation to try to effect change. The incentive to perfect the world comes from a worried heart and the empathy one feels to all who fall victim to life’s seeming imperfections.

Conversely, King Solomon teaches, “When there is worry in a man’s heart, he should suppress it, and let a good word convert it to gladness.”[6]

If the worry of the heart is not put into perspective it can lead to deep depression and inaction. The sages have suggested a number of ways to overcome dejection of the heart,[7] including:

1. reflection to find the aspect of the personality that requires rectification and is causing the worry
2. rejecting worrisome thoughts by dwelling on positive thoughts
3. confiding one’s worries to a friend

The end of the verse “let a good word convert it to gladness” illustrates how speech leads the way, in this case, by restoring a measure of peace of mind. It further shows how we can serve as interim leaders to friends and family through a simple word of encouragement or empathy.

While everyone would want, if possible, a life free from petty worries, the deep-seated anxiety of a true leader is rooted in the inexplicable paradoxes of existence. Rather than being dejected by them, he uses all of his strength to bring sweetening and rectification wherever possible.[8]

Body and Soul

Although the foundation of wholeness lies in the unity of spiritual and physical, the fact remains that when we experience the world, we face the apparent dichotomy between the spiritual and the physical. Perhaps the clearest example of this dichotomy is the relationship between the soul and the body. The ongoing struggle between the forces of soul and body—and their concurrent partnership—can be called the classic example of a love-hate relationship. Yet, if the basic drive in the soul for wholeness is to become a living reality, the apparent opposites of spiritual and physical must be united.

Wholeness is beyond our grasp if the mind is caught in the clutches of a logic based on the mutual exclusivity of the spiritual and physical. The Torah—and ancient as well as contemporary sages—teaches that it is the mission of each individual Jew to uplift and rectify the physical world by transfusing material reality with spiritual energy. A Jew is not uplifted by fleeing from the world to some spiritual ivory tower, or by submerging totally in the physical at the expense of the soul. Rather, a Jew achieves wholeness by elevating the spark of Divinity in all physical existence to its spiritual source.

This fundamental philosophy explains the reason for creation, the function of the human soul, as well as the purpose of the Torah and its commandments.

Jacob, the patriarch who achieved wholeness in his lifetime, blessed each of his twelve sons on his deathbed. His blessings to Zevulun and Issachar are interpreted by the sages to be blessings for physical wealth and Torah study, respectively. The tribe of Zevulun was known to be very generous in supporting the tribe of Issachar so they could pursue their studies, and as a result, Issachar produced many of the members of the Sanhedrin, the Jewish Supreme Court. The relationship between these two brothers has remained a model of cooperation throughout Jewish history. The fact that Zevulun, the merchant, received his blessing before Issachar, the scholar, is treated with great importance in the Kabbalah[1] which explains that pursuing business, on a certain level, represents “surrounding reality” and mastering the physical world.

After Adam ate from the Tree of Knowledge, the earth was cursed to bring forth weeds and thorns and man was forced to work hard “by the sweat of [his] brow” to bring forth bread from the earth.[2] The toil of earning one’s livelihood is thus seen both as a “curse” and as an opportunity to fulfill man’s basic function in the world.

The danger in this universal predicament is that, instead of the pursuit of business simply surrounding reality, it becomes all reality. Those who make this mistake end up going in circles, spending much of their lives unhappy in unfulfilling jobs. This, in turn, leads to incredible degrees of boredom and frustration as they watch their own meaningless lives passing before them.

The feeling of being completely disconnected from the source of one’s livelihood is the ultimate manifestation of the “curse” of Adam. One of the greatest blessings in life is to love one’s work, so much so, that it is considered an indispensable part of self-expression and fulfillment.

The term “life’s work” describes a state of mind where there is no essential distinction between what you do for a living, what your beliefs are, and who you are as a person. This state of integrity represents the epitome of wholeness—in that through your life’s work you have the satisfaction of fulfilling your soul’s purpose in this world.

This brings us to another deep and surprising secret of the Kabbalah:[3] the ultimate source of the primordial cosmic vessels, which broke because they were unable to contain the Divine light, is even higher than the source of the light itself—the source of the physical is higher than the source of the spiritual.

This is further illustrated by an analogy used in Hassidic teachings: when a stone wall collapses, the highest of the stones fall the farthest from the base.

The Ari explained that the source of the vessels is the impression of God’s Presence that remained in the vacuum resulting from the tzimtzum (the contraction of the Divine light that initially filled all reality). This impression[4] is the raw, “formless” material out of which the vessels were created. At a certain state in the development of the vessels, they were unable to hold the Divine light that shone into them and broke. The Ari taught that our mission in this world is to redeem the fallen sparks scattered throughout the world as a result of the primordial “breaking of the vessels.”[5]

The Ari also taught that the protracted exile of the Jewish people from the land of Israel, though painful and seemingly endless, in truth is a necessary stage in the ultimate redemption of the world. Themselves scattered to the four corners of the earth, the Jewish people were destined to uplift the sparks trapped in the shells of the material world and bring them back to their source in Torah, to the collective Jewish soul, and to the land of Israel. For this reason, the ingathering of the exiles to Israel in our day is a sign of the quickly-approaching Messianic era.

The universal vision of unity, wholeness, and complete redemption of the world has driven the Jewish people and helped them to survive against all odds and historic precedents. It is this same vision that propels Jewish leaders in every generation as they attempt to instill these concepts in the hearts of their contemporaries. Though at times it may seem unreal, or even impossible, for the world to reach such an exalted level, nonetheless, by striving towards that end, we can to bring these ideals into our daily existence.

We learn this from the story of Abraham. The Torah states that when the father of monotheism was old, God blessed him in all things. This statement is somewhat cryptic:

And Abraham was old, coming into days, and God blessed Abraham with all.[6]

Kabbalah explains that Abraham, through a lifetime of spiritual elevation, finally reached a level where he could transcend time—literally “coming into days.” Not only did he experience the next world, but he could manifest it in this world as well.

For us, even dreaming of a utopian world, let alone acting upon our convictions, helps create it here and now.

Furthermore, the study of the inner dimensions of Torah “sweetens the judgments” of an unrectified world and arouses great Divine compassion. On a personal level, the study of the secrets of Torah in Kabbalah “purifies the air” of unrectified personality. For in truth, the study of Kabbalah demands the purification of every aspect of consciousness, and eventually the unconscious mind as well. (Attempting to learn the inner dimensions of Torah while ignoring the need to constantly refine the ego may not only be fruitless but destructive as well.)

After tasting the sweetness of Torah, our whole being longs for more, thus giving us incentive to purify our vessels for the ever-greater light waiting to be admitted. As our vessels become more purified, we begin to integrate the essential unity of creation as revealed by God, the Source of all perfection.

When the essential entities of wholeness—Torah, the Jewish people, and the land of Israel—are transformed from individual flames into a unified, fiery torch of love for God, then His compassion will be aroused to such an extent that the world will be flooded by the knowledge of God “as the waters cover the sea,”[7] to borrow the words of Isaiah.

Our longing to experience the oneness of God from below draws down a waterfall of love from above. The integration of fire and water is the essence of heaven, as reflected in the fact that the Hebrew word for “heaven” (shamayim) is a combination of the words for “fire” (eish) and “water” (mayim).

Heaven must be brought down to earth; spirituality must be integrated with physical reality. Every thought, speech, and action that unites both poles helps prepare the world for its ultimate redemption.

May we all actualize our individual sparks and become leaders in our own right, thereby fulfilling our mission in life to bring the Ultimate Leader and the Ultimate Redemption here and now.

4 - Third Dynamic

The Power of Compassion to Inspire

Do not be scornful of any person and do not be disdainful of anything, for there is no person without his hour and nothing without its place.[1]

We may understand this statement of the sages to support our premise that every person has the potential for leadership; it just awaits the right time to manifest itself. That “hour” is the time when one’s soul-root shines most strongly. And it is in the essence of the soul-root that the potential for leadership lies, according to Kabbalah.

Every leader awaits his “hour” at the level of the soul-root, in the deepest realms of the super-consciousness. This most-elevated aspect of the soul is called in Kabbalah “the unknowable head.”[2] In fact, it is so unknowable, so hidden, that one is totally unaware of the extent of one’s own potential, and of course so are others. Nonetheless, if the person dedicates himself intensely to serve God and emulate His Divine attributes,[3] some of this latent leadership potential will become evident.

At this point, a crucial transformation must occur if the leader’s circle of influence is to grow. For a leader to make a mark on a community, he must be able to inspire those around him to reach ever-greater levels of connection with God and their fellow human beings.[4]

The ability to motivate others, though, ultimately rests upon his own inner level of inspiration. This, then, is the third dynamic of leadership—the evolution and development of inspiration, which is intrinsically bound to the attribute of compassion. (We have previously described how compassion is God’s determining factor in identifying a potential leader.)

Viewing the world through compassionate eyes gives the potential leader the ability to see beyond superficiality and first impressions, allowing the inner spark within those he encounters to shine forth. He continues to nurture these newly revealed sparks of holiness in others and lead them in compassion. In the words of Isaiah:

…for he who shows them compassion will lead them, by fountains of water he will guide them.[5]

He who wishes to lead must overcome his desire to judge others, allowing a sense of compassion to form his basic worldview. First, he cultivates compassion and understanding for everyone, recognizing the descent of every soul from its exalted source on high to this lowly world—its “fall” into an individual state of exile; he looks beyond superficial appearances (the result of the fall) to the most inner potential of the soul. Next, he feels unlimited compassion for the people of Israel as a whole, as they continue their ancient struggle to progress from exile and oppression towards total redemption. Lastly, he relates personally to the exile of God’s Presence, the Shechinah, and to God’s pain, as it were, in bearing a world so in need of rectification and unification.[6]

Each of these levels of compassion elicits a response from above—a response that is felt as Divine inspiration within the heart of the person who experiences the compassion.[7]

From the verse in Deuteronomy[8]—“And God will give you compassion and have compassion upon you”—we learn that compassion, and inspiration in the ultimate sense, are gifts from God. As we become aware of the need to be more sensitive to others, God graces us with that ability. This creates a spiral effect in the soul, where compassion produces the inspiration to act, which, in turn, draws down additional compassion and inspiration from above.

Thus, the sense of inspiration is a fundamental motivating force in all human beings, driving us not merely to empathize with the pain of others, but to act directly and forcefully to alleviate that pain. Though inspiration is legitimately channeled into a wide range of creative endeavors, its primary purpose, especially in a leader, is to rectify reality and elevate all those around him, thus revealing God’s redeeming presence in every situation of life.

Compassion and Selflessness

A tradition handed down by the sages teaches that the Ultimate Leader, the Messiah, will be the reincarnation of the soul of the model leader, Moses.[1]

Moses began his vocation as leader when his compassion was kindled at the sight of his fellow Jew being beaten by a cruel Egyptian. By saving the Jew and slaying the Egyptian, Moses, who at the time was a prince of Egypt, forever threw his lot in with his people. Years later, after he demonstrated such tender care of the flock belonging to his father-in-law Jethro (as described earlier), God appeared to him at the burning bush with the directive to return to Egypt and assume the leadership of the Jewish people. From that point on, Moses became the great defender of Israel, pleading its cause before God, even after the grievous sin of the golden calf.

Even greater than Moses’ compassion upon the people was his selflessness. The Torah attests to this: “And the man Moses was exceedingly humble, more than any man on the face of the earth.”[2] Twice, in response to complaints by the people, Moses in self-deprecating reference to himself and his brother Aaron exclaimed, “…and what are we?”[3]

So Moses and Aaron said to all the Israelites, “By evening, you shall know it was God who brought you out from the land of Egypt; and in the morning, then you shall see the glory of God, because He has heard your murmurings against God. For what are we, that you murmur against us?” And Moses said, “This shall be, when God shall give you in the evening meat to eat, and in the morning bread to the full; for that God hears your murmurings which you murmur against Him; and what are we? Your murmurings are not against us, but against God.”

In Kabbalah, the word for “what” (mah), refers to the second of the ten sefirot, the sefirah of chochmah (“wisdom”). When the letters of chochmah are permuted they spell koach mah meaning “the power of selflessness.” The wisdom of Moses derived from his great humbleness, which allowed him to become the perfect “empty” vessel through which God’s will could be manifest.

Although the Ultimate Leader (the reincarnation of Moses) will likewise possess a deep sense of selflessness, his most pronounced attribute will be his compassion for the Jewish people and the entire world. Whereas Moses is most strongly associated with the sefirah of chochmah, whose inner dimension is selflessness, the Ultimate Leader is most connected to the sefirah of tiferet (“beauty”), whose inner dimension is compassion.[4]  With his power to inspire, the Ultimate Leader will bring out the inner brilliance of each person, creating a beautiful rainbow of unity of all souls and of all peoples.

The people of Israel are innately beautiful, as described in allegorical form throughout King Solomon’s masterpiece, the Song of Songs. Poverty of spirit, a result of the long exile, tends to cover up this beauty until it is sometimes hidden beneath a superficial cover of external ugliness. Through a deep inner vision of the intrinsic beauty of the Jewish people, the Ultimate Leader will be able to reveal once again what is hidden.

The sefirah of tiferet is situated in the middle column of the ten sefirot, from where it balances and integrates the left and right sides with its inspirational motivating force of compassion. Compassion can be initiated and expressed in two ways—through prayer and through acts of mercy.

The “right side” in Kabbalah represents acts of loving-kindness that descend from giver to recipient, whereas the “left side” represents the uplifting of the soul in prayer to arouse Divine mercy and compassion.

The 2^nd century sage, Rabbi Eliezer,[5] taught that one should first perform an act of compassion and only afterward turn to God in prayer to arouse His Divine compassion. Thus, every morning before praying, he would give a coin to a needy person. The Ba’al Shem Tov and his disciples encouraged their followers to adopt this practice, as well as to become involved throughout the day with the welfare of their communities and actively engage in acts of kindness. This, in turn, they taught, would make one’s prayers for Divine compassion more potent and concrete.

The teaching of Rabbi Eliezer has its Biblical support in the order of events that occurred when Jacob met Rachel for the first time.[6]

The Torah relates that as Jacob neared the birthplace of his mother Rebbeca, where he had been sent by his parents to find a wife, he came upon a group of shepherds congregating by a well. They informed him that they were awaiting the arrival of other shepherds, for only with a joint effort could they roll away the heavy stone covering the well and water their sheep. At that very moment Rachel came by with her flock. Jacob was so inspired upon seeing his future wife that he single-handedly pushed away the stone from the well and then watered her sheep. Only afterwards did he approach her.

Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi,[7] in his classic work, the Tanya, cites this story when examining the characteristic of compassion. He explains that Jacob, upon seeing Rachel for the first time, envisioned all future Jewish souls who would come from the twelve tribes of Israel—his twelve sons by Rachel, her sister Leah and their maidservants; this vision intuitively aroused in him tremendous compassion. Thus inspired, he was immediately moved to perform the kind act of lifting the heavy stone off the well and watering the animals. Only afterwards did he kiss her, raising his voice in prayer for all the souls of Israel who would be so in need of compassion in the future, as the Torah relates:

And he watered the sheep of Laban, his mother’s brother. And Jacob then kissed Rachel and cried [out in prayer].

The Hebrew words for “and he watered” (vayashk) and “and he kissed” (vayishak) are spelled identically, only their vowels differ. This is a beautiful allusion to the unity of good deeds and prayer, the integration needed for the full manifestation of Divine and human compassion.

In Kabbalah, the arousal of compassion by doing good deeds first, and then praying, refers to a situation where the initiator is represented by the “groom”—here Jacob—who draws God’s energy from “above to below.”

In the Song of Songs this order is actually reversed. There the “bride” —who represents the flow of energy from “below to above”—speaks, and therefore the “kiss” comes before the good deed, which is an offer of refreshment:[8]

“Would you only be as a brother, having nursed from the breasts of my mother, I shall then find you outside and kiss you and no one will scorn me. I shall lead you and bring you to the house of my mother, you shall teach me, I shall give you to drink spiced wine from my choice pomegranates.”[9]

In Kabbalah, the terms “bride” and “groom” are always relative, representing primordial forces present in both male and female. The “feminine” tends to pray first then act, whereas the “masculine” is more directed to acting first and then praying. In truth, both attitudes have their merits and their proper place.

Before Esther entered the inner chamber of the king uninvited, an act punishable by death, she asked all the Jews in Shushan to fast and pray with her for three days. (See the earlier explanation of the second dynamic of leadership for the full story.) Her efforts were ultimately successful, as is recorded in the Book of Esther and celebrated on the holiday of Purim.

But when the Israelites, trapped before the Sea of Reeds, cried out to God to save them from the approaching Egyptians, God told Moses: “Why cry to Me? Speak to the children of Israel that they go forward.”[10]

Although both strategies have their time and place, we are taught that, since prayer is more potent when preceded and supported by acts of loving-kindness, this is the better path to pursue.

We see a further example of this in how Jacob—returning to the land of Israel after a twenty-year absence—coped with the threat of Esau’s force of four hundred men arrayed against him. In response, Jacob sent gifts in order to facilitate peace, divided his camp in preparation for war, and only then prayed.[11] Our sages instruct us that Jacob’s three-stage strategy is the model formula for Jewish leaders in all generations.

Through a lifetime of caring for others, the leader fine-tunes his ability to know the proper time and place for both action and prayer. The experience of compassion in his heart is ultimately a gift of God, creating an ongoing dynamic whereby the more he is compassionate, the more he draws down God’s compassion. The result is Divine inspiration, one of the defining factors of a true leader.

Although one can be inspired in an almost infinite number of ways, prayer in both the formal and spontaneous sense is perhaps the most powerful vehicle for consciously achieving inspiration. Given the proper conditions, virtually any phenomenon can arouse inspiration, but these are indirect means to inspiration. Prayer is a direct means because it is directed to God, the source of all inspiration, and the result is, therefore, immediate and not delayed by intermediaries or detours.[12]

The Origin of Inspiration

The spirit of God shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and fear of God. And he will be inspired in the fear of God and he shall not judge after the sight of his eyes, nor decide after the hearing of his ears…[1]

This passage from the Book of Isaiah refers specifically to the origin of inspiration—“the spirit of God”—of the Messiah and by inference, to the spark of the Ultimate Leader in every Jew.[2]

In the phrase “the spirit of God,” the Name of God used in the Hebrew original is the name associated with the attribute of compassion. This is God’s essential four-letter name­ (known as the Tetragrammaton) which we are forbidden to pronounce. The sages refer to it as “the Name of Compassion.” Thus, the “spirit of God”­—that is, Divine inspiration—appears once more in conjunction with, and dependent upon, the attribute of compassion.

When we look at the second verse of this passage in Hebrew, we see that its first word, “and he will be inspired,” is written vaharicho, which literally means “and he will apply his sense of smell.” Therefore, the sages interpret this to mean that the Ultimate Leader will be inspired to judge by use of his sense of smell.[3] Though this may sound strange, consider that the common expression “something doesn’t smell right,” often employed to illustrate situations that feel intuitively wrong, alludes to the association between the sense of smell and judgment. Smell is connected to intuition and inspiration, both of which emanate from a super-conscious level above logic and reason. The Ultimate Leader will embody the consummate state of ongoing inspiration from God that will empower his judgment.

The well-known culmination of this prophecy from Isaiah comes a few verses later:

…for the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of God as the waters cover the sea.[4]

While “the spirit of God [that] will rest upon him” refers to an all-encompassing level of inspiration, it describes an individual experience, the experience of the Ultimate Leader himself. But “the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of God” refers to a climactic manifestation of inspiration encompassing all humanity, the “flood” of Divine knowledge that will cover the face of the earth “as the waters cover the sea.” The role of the Ultimate Leader is to be the channel and priming force opening up God’s infinite flow of inspiration to all the world. (Any spiritual leader who acts on a smaller stage nevertheless toils to become a proper conduit of Divine inspiration for his immediate followers and, even beyond, to all who come into contact with him.)

Isaiah describes the spirit of God as a “singular” spirit, while the spirit of wisdom is paired with understanding, the spirit of counsel with might, and the spirit of knowledge with the fear of God. This reflects the essential and absolute oneness of God in contrast to the apparent duality of creation and humanity. These pairs allude to a process that in Kabbalah is called “mating”—the ongoing spiritual balancing of the various forces and influences within the soul. To truly accomplish this requires God’s assistance, compassion, and inspiration.

This prophecy of Isaiah is the most explicit reference to inspiration in the Bible; to capture the depth of its message it is necessary to analyze the many allusions contained in the Hebrew words, especially as they relate to the Biblical figure of Noah. In fact, in the story of Noah we can identify the first three of the four levels of inspiration mentioned by Isaiah, albeit in a state needing rectification. The fourth and final level, “the spirit of knowledge and fear of God,” alludes to the culmination of Isaiah’s prophecy quoted above, “for the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of God as the waters cover the sea.” Though he possessed the latent potential to become the Ultimate Leader, Noah did not succeed in attaining this level—to flood the world with the spiritual knowledge of God. Had he done so, the physical destruction of the world by flood would have been avoided.[5]

“The spirit of God shall rest upon him,” Isaiah states. The root of the Hebrew word for “rest” (nach)—which also means “descend” and “inspire”—is identical in its Hebrew spelling to Noah. The root of the word for “spirit” (ruach) is related to the word for “smell” (reiach). The root words for “smell” and “rest” are joined together in two important phrases or idioms relating to sacrifices offered in the Tabernacle in the desert and later in the Temple in Jerusalem, where the sacrifices are called a “pleasing aroma” (reiach nichoach) to God.[6] The very first time the phrase “pleasing aroma” appears in the Torah is after the great flood had subsided and Noah exited the ark:

Then Noah built an altar to God and took of every clean animal and of every clean bird and offered burnt offerings on the altar. God smelled the pleasing aroma and God said in His heart, “I will not curse the ground again because of man…”[7]

The first time a word or phrase appears in the Torah is vital to understanding its significance.  The first time the name Noah appears, we learn that its meaning is “rest.”

Lamech lived 182 years and had a son. And he called his name Noah saying, “This one will bring us rest from our work and the toil of our hands, from the ground which God had cursed.”[8]

The “rest” that Noah brought was two-fold.

First, Noah is credited with inventing the plow,[9] which brought rest to weary men toiling to bring forth bread from the earth by the sweat of their brow. As a consequence of Adam’s sin the ground had been “cursed,” bringing only thorns and weeds when seeds were planted. According to tradition, the severity of the curse lasted only through the lifetime of Adam; Noah was born immediately after Adam’s death and was instrumental through his inventiveness in causing the curse to abate, thereby giving rest to others.

The second “rest” that Noah brought was the promise he elicited from God not to curse the ground anew or destroy the earth again through another flood.[10]

The secret of the soul of Noah relates to the ultimate purpose of all creation—to come to a state of perfect rest and inspired consciousness, as Jews request in the blessing after a Shabbat meal: “May the Compassionate One cause us to inherit the day which will be completely Shabbat and a rest day for eternal life.”[11]

Although Noah did not save his generation from the flood, he possessed leadership qualities; his goodness and the grace that he found in the eyes of God were sufficient to save himself—and potentially all humanity—from utter destruction:

And God said, “I will blot out man whom I created from the face of the earth—from man to animal, to creeping things and to birds of the sky, for I regret that I created them.” But Noah found grace in the eyes of God.[12]

His inability, though, to exhibit sincere compassion on his generation was considered a major failing that needed rectification.

It is related in the Zohar that after the floodwaters had subsided and Noah finally comprehended the extent of the destruction, he questioned how God could have done such a thing. God’s response was one of incredulity:

“You are a foolish shepherd. Now you say this?! Why did you not say this at the time I told you that I saw that you were righteous among your generation, or afterward when I said that I would bring a flood upon the people, or afterward when I said that you should build an ark? I constantly delayed and I said, ‘When is he [Noah] going to ask for compassion for the world?’… And now that the world is destroyed, you open your mouth to cry before Me and to beseech Me?!” [13]

The sages debated whether Noah, had he been alive in the generation of Abraham, would have been considered especially outstanding or not. Some were of the opinion that had he lived among other holy men such as Abraham he would have been even greater than he had been in his own generation; others claimed he was good only in comparison to his wicked generation and had he lived at the time of Abraham he would have been thought of as quite ordinary.

The comparison with Abraham is not coincidental. When God revealed to Abraham His intention to destroy the evil cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, he pleaded that the cities be saved on the merit of the small minority of good people who might be living there.

Abraham’s debate with God over the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah is as dramatic as a confrontation between God and a leader can be.

First the Torah tells us that God chose to include Abraham as a partner in His decision-making process:

Now God had said, “Shall I conceal from Abraham what I am about to do? Abraham is to become a great and mighty nation and through him shall be blessed all the nations of the world.”[14]

Having learned of the impending destruction, Abraham argued and pleaded that the cities should be saved if fifty good men live there.[15] Never forgetting his humility, he challenged God and found the Master of the Universe acceding to his requests:

“Here I have begun to speak to my Master and I am but dust and ashes. But suppose they lack five of the fifty righteous? Will you destroy the whole city because of five. He [God] said, “I will not destroy if I find forty-five.” He [Abraham] continued to speak to Him and said, “Suppose there are forty found there?” He [God] said, “I will not do it for the sake of the forty.” He [Abraham] said, “Let not my Master show anger and I will continue to speak. Suppose thirty are found there?”[16]

Abraham stopped after winning a concession from God that the cities would not be destroyed if the minimal number of ten good men could be found among the evil population. But even ten could not be found, and, in the end, only Lot and his family were saved. Remarkably, it is from them that comes the lineage leading to Ruth—the model convert who was the great-grandmother of King David—and through King David ultimately to Mashiach ben David.

With his willingness to plead on behalf of the residents of these evil cities, Abraham began the process of rectifying Noah’s inability to intercede for his generation.  However, the complete rectification did not occur until the coming of Moses.[17]

Just before descending from Mt. Sinai with the two tablets on which were written the Ten Commandments, Moses was informed by God that, down below, the people had begun to worship the golden calf. God told him:

“I have seen this people and behold they are a stiff-necked people. Now leave Me alone and My wrath will blaze against them and destroy them. I will then make you into a great nation.”[18]

Another man might have been flattered by such a distinction, but Moses implored God to reconsider. In response to these arguments, the Torah relates, “God relented regarding the evil that He declared He would do to His people”.[19]

After descending from Mt. Sinai and forcefully dealing with the situation, Moses ascended the mountain again, this time to beseech God to forgive the people. In what is considered the paradigm of the total dedication of the soul (mesirut nefesh), he declared:

“I implore! This people has committed a grievous sin and made themselves a god of gold. And now if you would but forgive their sin, but if not, erase me now from this book that You have written.”[20]

Interestingly, the Hebrew word for “erase me” (mecheini) is a permutation of mei Noach,  “the waters of Noah.” In Kabbalah,[21] we are taught that at that moment the blemish in the soul of Noah was rectified. Furthermore, these powerful words of Moses serve to instruct all future leaders as to the level of compassion and commitment needed to fulfill their appointed task.

Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneersohn, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, taught that the pattern of all history—from the beginning of creation to the coming of the Messiah—is alluded to in the first ten generations of mankind from Adam to Noah, thus marking Noah as a potential Messiah, the Ultimate Leader.

Adam contained the potential of Ultimate Leadership while still in the Garden of Eden. This potential, which was lost when he ate from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, is alluded to in the teaching of the Ari who notes that the three Hebrew letters of the name Adam, are the first letters of Adam, David, and Messiah.

Of course, as has already been noted, had Noah been able to feel compassion for his generation, he might have realized the true spark of the Messiah within his soul. Nevertheless, he did merit to save humanity from utter destruction.

We are taught that “all sevenths are precious,”[22] and we see that the seventh generation following Adam was that of Chanoch of whom it is written: “And Chanoch walked with God, and then he was no more, for God had taken him.”[23] The first two letters of the name Chanoch are the same as Noah but in reversed order, spelling the word for “grace” (chen), as in “And Noah found grace in the eyes of God.”[24]

As there were ten generations from Adam to Noah, so were there ten generations following Noah to Abraham. The seventh generation from Abraham was that of Moses.[25]

And here we see a parallel between Chanoch (the seventh generation from Adam) and Moses (the seventh from Abraham). According to Kabbalah, in the world of souls, Chanoch was the spiritual mentor and teacher of Moses. Both of these souls were connected by their sense of selflessness, symbolized by the manner in which they left the world.

Regarding the death of Chanoch, it is written (as noted above): “and then he was no more for God had taken him.” This is interpreted by the sages to mean that God saw that Chanoch was inclined to weaken spiritually as time progressed, despite his great goodness; therefore, God took him before his time. Tradition holds that he ascended to heaven where he was transformed into one of the loftiest of heavenly beings, the angel Metatron.

Concerning the death of Moses it is written: “And Moses, the servant of God died there, in the land of Moab, by the mouth of God… Moses was 120 years old when he died; his eye had not dimmed and his bodily strength had not diminished.”[26] Moses was among a select few, who due to their spiritual purity, died by the “kiss” of God. As the verse indicates, Moses was in robust health until the time of his death. His death, like Chanoch’s, was pre-mature; it occurred only because his mission in this world had been completed.[27]

Noah and the Five Dynamics of Leadership

When we examine the life of Noah, we see that despite certain limitations and failings, Noah possessed, albeit in a limited sense, all five dynamics of leadership described in this book. As discussed above, his sense of compassion—though flawed—was sufficient in God’s eyes to save a remnant of humanity. His drive to achieve wholeness was manifest in his faithfulness in carrying out God’s instructions to build an ark, gather a representative sample of the animal kingdom, and become the forerunner of a new world. Until our present day, the world is morally guided and bound by the universal code of ethics known as the “seven commandments of the children of Noah.”[1]

His sense of compromise was put to the test during the time spent within the ark. Despite very difficult circumstances, he tended to all the needs of both his family and the animals, creating some semblance of order and balance.

His invention of the plow, a revolutionary advance for his time, and his ability to build an ark which served as the means to save life on earth, relate to the fourth dynamic of leadership, the drive for integration of technology and religion. And we see the fifth dynamic—a sense of folly—in his planting of a vineyard following the flood. As with some of his other traits, this sense of folly was not in a rectified state and it led him to becoming drunk and humiliated. The soul of Noah can thus be seen as a transitory figure, full of great potential, but in deep need of rectification.[2]

Let us now see what more we can learn from Noah about the third dynamic of leadership. Particularly, we find that Noah received from God three distinct commands relating to the ark—to build the ark, to enter the ark, and to leave the ark—and that each of these commands parallels the levels of inspiration we saw identified by Isaiah.

Noah was first commanded to build the ark. This stage relates to the all-encompassing inspiration—the “spirit of God” in Isaiah’s words—that is meant to awaken compassion and the motivation to act. Noah’s initial reaction was to fulfill God’s directive to the letter of the law. He failed, however, to appreciate his power to arouse his generation to repent or his option to appeal to God’s sense of compassion. Due to this serious lack, all of his subsequent stages of inspiration were incomplete as well.

Upon finishing the construction, Noah was commanded to take his immediate family and the animals and enter the ark, where they would be protected from the flood. Although the floodwaters were the agent for mass destruction, they also served to purify the world.[3] The paradoxical state of water both destroying and purifying is reflected in Jewish law, where water has the power to transfer spiritual impurity, as well as the unique power to purify the spiritually impure.

Entering the ark represents the second stage of inspiration: “the spirit of wisdom and understanding.” On one level the experience of Noah in the ark was that of all reality being brought into one confined space. According to Kabbalah, the ark is the prototypical model of the Temple whose components, dimensions, and details symbolize the totality of both the material and spiritual worlds.[4]

On another level, the experience in the ark was one of hiding and waiting until the anger of God subsided. The Hebrew  word for “wait/waiting” (mechakeh) is composed of the same letters as the word for “wisdom” (chochmah). Hassidism teaches that the three great sins of humanity—the sin of Adam and Eve, the sin of the golden calf, and the sin of David and Bathsheba—all involve impatience and the inability to wait for the proper time.

Had Adam and Eve waited for Shabbat, they would have been permitted not only to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, but from the other special tree growing in the Garden of Eden, the Tree of Life as well. Had the generation of the desert waited only a short while longer, Moses would have descended from the mountain, and thus they would have avoided the grave sin of the golden calf. David and Bathsheba were destined to marry; had they waited for the right time, they would have avoided much trouble and anguish to themselves and others.[5]

The Hebrew word for “ark” (teivah) also means “word.” The Ba’al Shem Tov, in one of his most important teachings,[6] allegorically saw Noah’s ark as the vehicle of speech leading to redemption. Just as Noah was commanded to bring “all of reality” into the ark, so too are we directed to invest our entire being into the words of Torah and prayer.[7] When we bring the full spectrum of our intellectual, meditative, and emotional states into the words of Torah and prayer, we are able to ride upon the destructive floodwaters of this world and transmute them into purifying waters of redemption and inspiration.

Being hidden in the ark alludes to the “spirit of wisdom and understanding” and immersion in the inner dimensions of Torah.[8] In the Hassidic model of leadership, the potential leader first “hides” within the secret wisdom of the Torah, preparing himself to spread the understanding of those teachings at the proper time, and only then does he act.[9]

The crucial transition between preparation and action, as it relates to a leader, entails a deep understanding of the concept embodied in the statement: “we will do and we will hear.”[10] In this one dramatic sentence, the Jews who were gathered at Mt. Sinai declared their total dedication to God, promising first to fulfill His commandments and only then to seek an understanding of what was demanded of them.

Despite this declaration, which has guided the Jewish people ever since, the human mind is naturally drawn to the more normative, logical statement of the sages, “great is learning that leads to action,”[11] which implies that one should first aim to understand and then to act upon that understanding.

In our present state of reality, understanding sparks the inspiration to act, but the reverse will be true in the Messianic era when the consciousness of “we will do and we will hear” will be truly revealed.

Indeed, another opinion of the sages—“Great [in itself] is the act”[12]—alludes to a higher consciousness wherein spontaneous action sparks inspiration from which, in turn, comes a “spirit of wisdom and understanding” that is infinitely higher than any insight that may have preceded the action.[13]