Kaisipang Hudyo sa Awit ng mga Awit 5:3: Kol Dodi Dofek

פָּשַׁ֙טְתִּי֙ אֶת־כֻּתָּנְתִּ֔י אֵיכָ֖כָה אֶלְבָּשֶׁ֑נָּה רָחַ֥צְתִּי אֶת־רַגְלַ֖י אֵיכָ֥כָה אֲטַנְּפֵֽם׃

Hinubad ko na ang aking damit; paano ko pa ito isusuot? Hinugasan ko na ang aking mga paa; paano ko pa dudumihan ang mga ito?

Kol Dodi Dofek

What was our reaction to the beckoning of the voice of the Beloved, to the munificence of ‎His ‎loving-kindness and miracles? Did we get out of our beds and immediately open the door, or ‎did ‎we continue to rest like the Lover [in the story of the Song of Songs], and were we too lazy to ‎get ‎out of our beds? “I have washed my feet, how shall I soil them?” (Song of Songs 5:3).‎
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Kol Dodi Dofek

Let us publicly and frankly confess: we complain about certain Israeli leaders and their ‎attitude ‎toward the values of our tradition and religious practice. The complaints are justified. We ‎have ‎serious charges against the secular leadership of the Land of Israel. However, are only they to ‎be ‎blamed, and are we as faultless and pure as the heavenly angels? Such an assumption is ‎without ‎foundation. We could have extended our influence and done something to shape the ‎spiritual ‎character of the Land if we had but hurried to awaken from our slumber and open the ‎door for the ‎Beloved who is knocking. I fear that we Orthodox Jews are still enveloped in sweet ‎slumber. If we ‎were to establish more religious kibbutzim, if we were to build more housing for ‎religious ‎immigrants, if we were to establish an extensive system of schools, our situation would ‎be ‎completely different. Then there would be no need to come forward with complaints against ‎the ‎leaders of other movements. We Orthodox Jews suffer from a unique illness that is not found ‎in ‎nonreligious Jews (with some rare exceptions). We are all miserly. We do not excel when it ‎comes ‎to giving generously, in comparison with the rest of American Jewry. We are satisfied to ‎part with a ‎couple of pennies, and we demand, in recompense for our piddling donation, our ‎reward in this ‎world and a share in the first allocations. Thus, our dignity has reached its nadir, and ‎we do not ‎exercise appropriate influence on Jewish life here in America and on the course of ‎events in Israel. ‎Great and free America is a land of charity. The government itself, in the years ‎‎1945 to 1956, ‎disbursed $55 billion, $350 million in foreign aid projects (the numbers are truly ‎beyond our ‎comprehension), and philanthropists are truly respected in this land that knows how ‎to give and ‎help in such proportions. Accordingly, we Orthodox Jews are not entitled to the ‎greatness that ‎others possess. Lately, we have become experts at criticism and fault-finding. (“And ‎the priest shall ‎look on him, and pronounce him unclean” [Leviticus 13:3]). We know well how to ‎criticize, to look ‎for blemishes and to express opinions as self-styled experts. One thing, however, ‎escapes us, and ‎that is that the priest who pronounces defilement must leave the encampment to ‎be with the ‎afflicted sufferer so as to purify him. “And the priest shall leave the encampment ... ‎and the priest ‎shall command” (Leviticus 14:3–4). We must build not just a few small nooks, whose ‎impact is ‎unfelt, but central institutions throughout the length and breadth of America and the ‎Land of ‎Israel. We have an obligation to purify those who are “outside the encampment,” who are ‎situated ‎in the huge camp of ignorance. To this end, there is a need for vast sums; and we, the ‎Orthodox ‎Jews, are far from being generous and charitable. For this reason, our institutions here ‎and in Israel ‎suffer from want. The Religious Zionist movement especially has to content itself with ‎paltry sums. ‎Due to lack of funds, the movement cannot function appropriately. Indeed, the loyal ‎Lover is quite ‎splendid, her eyes are like twin doves and her face radiates a beautiful charm (Song ‎of Songs 1:15, ‎‎4:1). She is much fairer than the nonreligious lover. However, beauty is vain and ‎grace is deceptive‎‎ (Proverbs 31:30) if this Lover is stingy and very lazy. “I have removed my cloak, ‎how shall I put it on ‎again?” (Song of Songs 5:3). When one calls a rich Jew and asks him to give to a ‎just cause, he ‎answers, “I am going to Florida, and this year I have decided to stay in a luxury hotel, ‎and I don’t ‎have the wherewithal to give you what you requested.” What did the scholar tell the ‎King of the ‎Khazars? “You have embarrassed me, King of Khazars! … And our saying ‘worship at His ‎holy hill’ ‎‎[Psalms 99:9] is but the chirping of a starling” (HaKuzari 2:24). Do we not hear in ‎our ‎trembling over the safety and tranquility of the Land of Israel in our day, the beckoning of ‎the ‎Beloved who begs the Lover to let Him in? He has already been beckoning for eight years, and ‎still ‎He has not been properly responded to. Nonetheless, He continues to beckon. To our ‎good ‎fortune, our inherited Land has become more beautiful. The Beloved has not shown the ‎Lover any ‎favoritism, but He has compassion for her. The Beloved beckoned for only a short ‎moment that ‎night and disappeared, yet with us He has exhibited extraordinary patience. It is ‎eight years that ‎He has continued to beckon. Hopefully, we will not miss the opportunity!!‎
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Kol Dodi Dofek

What is the essence of the story of the Song of Songs, if not the description of a paradoxical ‎and ‎tragic hesitation on the part of the love-intoxicated, anxiety stricken Lover, when the ‎opportunity, ‎couched in majestic awe, presented itself? What is it, if not the deferral of a great and ‎sublime ‎opportunity pregnant with a possibility of which she dreamed, for which she fought, which ‎she ‎sought, and for which she had searched with all the fervor of her soul? The delicate and ‎refined ‎Lover, passion-driven to her fair-eyed Beloved, who in days resplendent in brightness ‎wandered ‎the paths of the vineyards, the mountain ridges, through wheat fields and orchards, and ‎in ‎evenings bathed in the pale light of an enchanting moon or gloomy with darkness passed ‎between ‎the walls in search of her Lover — she returned one rain-stormy night to her tent, tired ‎and weary, ‎and fell asleep. The patter of quick-moving, light footsteps was heard in the stillness of ‎the tent. In ‎that mysterious and strange night, the Beloved for whom she had so hoped and kept ‎watch, ‎suddenly appeared out of the darkness and beckoned at the entrance of her tent. He ‎knocked and ‎pleaded that she open the door for Him. “Listen! My Beloved Is Knocking, saying, ‎‎‘Open to me, my ‎sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is drenched with dew, and ‎my locks with the ‎damp of the night’” (Song of Songs 5:2). The great moment for which she had ‎been waiting with ‎such longing came at a time of inattentiveness. The elusive and secretive ‎Beloved, weary of ‎wandering and tribulations, appeared with His curly locks, black eyes, powerful ‎build, and shining ‎countenance. He stood in her doorway and thrust His hand through the hole in ‎the lock, seeking ‎shelter from the dampness of the night. He wanted to recount to her His mighty ‎love, His longing ‎and yearning for a life together filled with desire and joy, and of fulfillment of ‎expectations and ‎realization of dreams. A simple extension of the hand to turn the lock separated ‎the Lover and her ‎Beloved — the great dream from its complete fulfillment. With one leap the ‎Lover could have ‎attained all her life’s desires. “Draw me, we will run after you. … We will be glad ‎and rejoice in ‎you” (Song of Songs 1:4). Deceitful is the heart (Jeremiah 17:9), however, and who ‎can explain it? ‎That very night, sloth, the result of a strange inertia, took hold of the Lover. For one ‎small moment ‎the flame of yearning that burned within her was buried, the mighty desire ‎withered, and her ‎feelings and dreams were silenced. The Lover refused to leave her bed. She did ‎not open the door ‎of her tent to her handsome Beloved. A cruel confusion swept her into ‎forgetfulness and apathy. ‎The Lover became lazy and stubborn, she poured forth countless ‎excuses and pretexts to explain ‎her strange behavior. “I have removed my cloak, how shall I put it ‎on again? I have washed my ‎feet, how shall I soil them?” (Song of Songs 5:3). The Beloved ‎continued to beckon, and as His ‎beckoning became more persistent, so too did the insanity that ‎chilled and tainted the Lover.‎
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