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AT a certain point, King Saul of ancient Israel bore great enmity to David. The King dispatched his emissaries to take David when David was with Samuel the Prophet and with Samuel’s band of Prophets.
King Saul’s emissaries obeyed, setting out to capture David so that King Saul could harm him. But when these emissaries reached David, it is recorded in the book of I Samuel 19:20, “and they also prophesied.”
Again King Saul dispatched emissaries, with the same purpose, and again Scripture records, “and they also prophesied.” The same act by the King, with the same result, occurred a third time. King Saul’s intentions came to naught, and yet, why? What happened?
Nowhere in Scripture does it say why these emissaries, instruments of evil, suddenly prophesied, nor does Scripture relate that they had a change of heart, that they repented, and out of repentance they attained the stature of Prophets. Nor does Scripture record what they prophesied. Scripture does not even state that because they prophesied, their evil mission was aborted. The first book of Samuel simply says, “and they also prophesied.”
Despite the absence of data in the Biblical record, both on what made the King’s emissaries prophesy and on its effect on them, it seems clear what happened. Men, bent on one purpose, came within the field of Samuel the Prophet, and within the field of his band of Prophets. That spiritual field was so pervasive, so “thick” (so to speak), that the field suffused these men. It transformed them. Once transformed, it could not be imagined that they would take David, nor was it necessary to say as much. “And they prophesied.” They became wholly different people. They changed. They ascended. They embraced the spiritual life.
They did so without even speaking with Samuel the Prophet. Scripture records no words exchanged between them. Merely to be within the field of the Prophets of the Creator altered their plans and altered their very selves.
THESE thoughts came to mind as I listened to eminent people struggle to find the right words to express their gratitude to, and admiration for, Rav (Rabbi) Aharon Lichtenstein. He was honored at a dinner last Sunday night for 50 years of service to the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary of Yeshiva University, and for disseminating Torah in the Diaspora and in Israel more generally. Concurrent with his teaching at the RIETS branch in Israel, he has been the dean or rosh yeshiva of Yeshivat Har Etzion in Gush Etzion in Israel for the past 40 years.
This dinner was different. It began not with the smorgasbord, but with two formal lectures in Talmud. Ironically, the second of these lectures, delivered by Rabbi Michael Rosensweig, dealt with the topic of “adding to” or “subtracting from” the Torah (bal tosif; e.g., marking Shabbos two days during the week). I say ironically, because, as Rabbi Rosensweig pointed out, “whoever adds, subtracts.” The meaning and the purpose of a mitzvah, and of the Torah, is cancelled if it is added to, however well meaning the intention behind the addition.
From the speakers honoring Rav Lichtenstein, the adjectives flowed. Yet, the more words of praise added, the more elusive the goal of capturing and appraising his impact. “Whoever adds, subtracts.” The description of some individuals falls readily within the range of human expression, and the fine artist, the poet or the literary craftsman can capture those individuals. Not so with Rav Lichtenstein.
To be within his field, to study at his feet, to watch his mind and soul soar, to be astounded at his range of mind and of emotion, to be stuck by his insights into the Torah, is to be transformed. It is to ascend, to embrace the spiritual life. “And they also prophesied.”
Another irony: Rav Lichtenstein’s son Mosheh, rosh yeshiva in Har Etzion, delivered the first Talmud lecture preceding the dinner, and he addressed the question as to why relatives are forbidden from testifying in court on behalf of, or against, another relative. One might naturally think that the answer is that relatives are biased; their testimony is unreliable.
However, Rav Lichtenstein’s son pointed to an alternative: Testimony in a court is not the mere presentation of a photo of the event, so to speak. Rather, the witness is a participant; he is offended by the crime and that motivates him to testify. The Torah disqualifies relatives so as not to put them into the position of being a participant in a family member’s potentially worst moment.
I say this is ironic because to have studied with Rav Lichtenstein is to have been drawn into a relationship, to have become a participant. His students did not merely absorb information, dramatic as the way that information, both in quality and quantity, was presented. Students were altered by Rav Lichtenstein. Transformed beyond recognition — mostly, beyond the recognition of themselves, by themselves. “And they [students of Rav Lichtenstein] also prophesied”; no delineation of causality was necessary or possible. His students embraced the spiritual life. They did not even need to talk to Rav Lichtenstein. Listening was sufficient.
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3.23 Copyright (C) 2007 Alain Georgette / Copyright (C) 2006 Frantisek Hliva. All rights reserved."