Shulchan Arukh, Orach Chayim 123:3-5

Hook

We stand at a unique juncture in Jewish history, holding both ancient longing and modern reality in our hands. For centuries, our prayers concluded with a profound, almost visceral, yearning for return: "Next year in Jerusalem." Today, a vibrant, sovereign Israel stands. Yet, the same prayers often conclude with a different, equally resonant plea: "May it be Your will that the Temple be rebuilt, speedily in our days." This isn't just a historical echo; it's a living tension. How do we reconcile the miracle of a modern state with the enduring spiritual aspirations that feel, at times, still unfulfilled? How do we build a future that honors both the incredible progress made and the profound depths of our people's covenantal journey, understanding that the journey itself is the ongoing "service" we offer? This text, seemingly about the minutiae of prayer, offers a surprising pathway into this very complexity, inviting us to reflect on what it means to step back, to leave a sacred space, and what that teaches us about our responsibilities in the present, always mindful of the past and hopeful for the future.

Text Snapshot

From the Shulchan Arukh, Orach Chayim 123:3-5, we find the following instructions for concluding the Amidah prayer:

"One bows and steps three steps backwards, in a single bow. After one has stepped three steps, while still bowing, and before straightening up: when saying 'oseh shalom bimromav', one turn one's head to one's left side; when saying 'Hu ya-aseh shalom aleinu' - turn one's head to one's right side; and afterwards one bows deeply forward like a servant taking leave of his master. Gloss: And we practice: to say after this 'Let it be [Your] will that the Temple be rebuilt, etc.'. Because prayer is in place of the [Temple] service, and we therefore request regarding [the rebuilding] the Temple, where we would be able to perform the actual service (His own opinion). When one steps [backwards], one lifts [one's] left foot first. And the distance of these steps is minimally that one places the big toe [of one foot] next to the heel [of the other foot]. And ideally, one should not take larger steps than this. (Beit Yosef in the name of Orchot Chaim, and his own opinion, based on the reason that the Beit Yosef wrote for the 3 steps in the name of Rav Hai) A person who adds to the three steps is considered haughty."

Context

Date: 16th Century Codification

The Shulchan Arukh, or "Set Table," was compiled by Rabbi Yosef Karo in the mid-16th century in Safed, Ottoman Palestine. However, it is not merely a product of its time. It draws upon centuries of Jewish legal tradition, synthesizing the rulings of the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds, Geonic literature, and the Rishonim (early medieval commentators) like Maimonides and Nachmanides. This particular section, detailing the steps back after the Amidah, reflects ancient practices and interpretations that predate Karo by over a millennium.

Actor: Rabbi Yosef Karo and Generations of Commentators

Rabbi Yosef Karo's monumental work aimed to provide a definitive, accessible code of Jewish law for all Jews. His intention was to create uniformity in practice after centuries of dispersion led to diverse customs. The accompanying glosses by Rabbi Moshe Isserles (the Rema) adapted the Shulchan Arukh for Ashkenazi practice, while subsequent major commentaries—such as the Turei Zahav (Taz), Magen Avraham (MA), Ba'er Hetev, and Mishnah Berurah (MB)—further elucidated, debated, and refined these laws over the centuries. This text, therefore, represents a collective Jewish legal and spiritual endeavor, reflecting the ongoing commitment of the people to faithfully transmit and interpret divine commandments.

Aim: Preserving Continuity and Longing

The primary aim of these specific laws is multi-faceted: to ensure the proper, respectful conclusion of the most central prayer, the Amidah; to embody humility and reverence when departing from an encounter with the Divine presence; and crucially, to maintain the memory and longing for the Beit HaMikdash (Holy Temple) and its sacrificial service. By codifying prayer as a substitute for Temple service, and explicitly including a plea for the Temple's rebuilding, the text ensures that the spiritual heart of the Jewish people, deeply tied to the Land of Israel and its sacred center, remains vibrant even in exile. This deep connection between prayer, Temple, and Land is a foundational element of Jewish peoplehood.

Two Readings

This seemingly simple halakhic instruction—how to take three steps back after prayer—unfurls into profound insights relevant to Zionism and Modern Israel. It speaks to the ongoing tension between a sacred past, a complex present, and a longed-for future.

Reading 1: The Enduring Longing and the Covenantal Imperative

At the heart of this reading is the explicit Gloss to the Shulchan Arukh: "And we practice: to say after this 'Let it be [Your] will that the Temple be rebuilt, etc.'. Because prayer is in place of the [Temple] service, and we therefore request regarding [the rebuilding] the Temple, where we would be able to perform the actual service." This statement immediately elevates the ritual from mere physical movement to a profound act of covenantal memory and aspiration. The steps themselves are not just an exit; they are a ritualized departure from God's presence, echoing the priests' movements in the Temple. The Magen Avraham (123:10) and Mishnah Berurah (123:16) explicitly connect these steps to the Kohanim's service, emphasizing that "tefillah was enacted to correspond to the sacrifices and therefore we need to resemble the priests."

For those who view Zionism primarily through a covenantal lens, modern Israel, while a miraculous fulfillment of prophecy and a testament to Jewish self-determination, is still an incomplete redemption. The absence of the Temple means that the "actual service" (עבודה תמידית) remains in abeyance, substituted by prayer. The "three steps back" thus become a tangible expression of this ongoing spiritual longing. The instruction to move the left foot first is interpreted by commentators like the Magen Avraham (123:10) and Mishnah Berurah (123:13) as a sign of reluctance to leave God's presence—an indication that the worshiper is finding it "hard for him to leave from before Hashem." Alternatively, the Turei Zahav (123:6) suggests it’s an act of deference, honoring the Shechinah by aligning with God's "right side" (if God is facing you, your left is God's right). Both interpretations underscore a deep reverence and a desire to remain connected to the Divine, even as one steps back into the mundane world.

This covenantal reading suggests that the establishment of the State of Israel, while incredibly significant, is but one crucial step in a larger divine plan for universal peace and justice, centered in a rebuilt Jerusalem. It places upon the Jewish people—and by extension, the Jewish state—a profound responsibility to build a society that reflects these ultimate ideals. The warning against "haughtiness" in adding steps reinforces the humility required in this sacred endeavor. Modern Israel, from this perspective, is not an end in itself, but a means to a greater spiritual purpose, a vessel for the realization of a messianic vision that transcends mere political sovereignty. It calls for an ethical state, deeply rooted in Jewish values, continuously striving towards the spiritual perfection symbolized by the Temple, recognizing that our "service" today must entail the ongoing work of justice, compassion, and the pursuit of peace for all who dwell in the land.

Reading 2: Embodied Practice and the Continuity of Peoplehood

A second reading focuses less on the unfulfilled and more on the continuity and embodiment of Jewish peoplehood through precise practice. The Shulchan Arukh's meticulous details—the three steps, the specific head turns, the left foot first, the exact step size ("big toe next to the heel")—highlight the power of ritual to sustain identity across generations and geographies. These are not merely symbolic gestures; they are concrete, physical actions that ground the worshiper in a shared, ancient tradition. The Ba'er Hetev (123:9) and Mishnah Berurah (123:14) discuss the precise measure of these steps, comparing them to the priests' movements, reinforcing the idea that even in prayer, we are reenacting and embodying the sacred service. The commentaries' detailed discussions—even debating whether a left-footed person should step right foot first (MA, BH, Biur Halacha)—demonstrate the depth of commitment to maintaining the integrity of these practices.

This reading connects to Zionism by emphasizing the resilience and determination of Jewish peoplehood to maintain its identity and practice, even in challenging circumstances. The debates over whether to lessen step size in a "cramped synagogue" (Ba'er Hetev 123:9) mirrors the practical adaptations and compromises inherent in any living tradition or national movement. Zionism, in this view, is the modern manifestation of this enduring will to live, to define oneself, and to create a space where these embodied practices can thrive without threat. It's about self-determination not just politically, but culturally and religiously. The return to the Land of Israel, even without the Temple, provides the sovereign context for these practices to flourish, to be protected, and to continue evolving within a Jewish national framework.

Modern Israel, then, is a testament to the Jewish people’s agency in shaping their destiny. It is a place where Jewish life, in all its halakhic richness, can be lived openly and freely. The "three steps back" become a metaphor for the continuous process of engaging with our heritage, understanding its demands, and adapting it to contemporary realities. It’s about taking responsibility for our collective existence, not merely waiting for external redemption. The warning against "haughtiness" here can be understood as a call for humility in the exercise of this sovereignty—a reminder that even in our own land, we are always "taking leave" from a divine presence, always accountable to a higher moral standard. It is about building a state that embodies the ethical principles inherent in Jewish law, fostering a vibrant Jewish culture, and ensuring the continuity of the Jewish people through active engagement with its traditions, rather than passive waiting.

Civic Move

Engage in "Three Steps Back" Dialogue

To bridge the gap between these readings and foster constructive dialogue about Israel, we can adopt a metaphorical "three steps back" approach in our conversations and learning. This isn't about retreating from engagement, but about cultivating a more nuanced, empathetic, and responsible approach.

Step 1: Left Foot First – Acknowledge the Sacred Longing (Reluctance to Leave God's Presence) Begin by recognizing and deeply listening to the profound spiritual, historical, and covenantal connection that underpins the Jewish relationship with the Land of Israel. For many, Israel is not merely a political entity but a sacred project, a step towards ultimate redemption, a place where the Jewish soul feels most at home. This first step requires humility and empathy, understanding that for many Jews, the very existence of Israel is intertwined with thousands of years of prayer for return, a yearning for "actual service," and a refusal to be severed from a foundational spiritual heritage. Resist the urge to immediately critique or intellectualize; instead, hold space for the depth of this millennia-old bond. This is our "left foot first" – acknowledging the reluctance to leave the sacred, even when engaging with the complex.

Step 2: Right Foot – Engage with the Imperfect Present (Practicality and Reality) Having grounded ourselves in the sacred longing, move to engage candidly with the complex realities and challenges of modern Israel as a nation-state. Acknowledge that sovereignty, while a miracle, is also a heavy responsibility, bringing with it political, social, and ethical dilemmas. This step involves grappling with the narratives and legitimate grievances of all people living in the land, recognizing the profound impact of the state's existence on Palestinians, Druze, Christians, and other minorities. It means confronting difficult questions about democracy, security, human rights, and the ongoing conflict, without sensationalism but with genuine intellectual honesty. This is the "right foot" – stepping firmly into the messy, yet vital, work of building a just and secure society in the real world.

Step 3: Left Foot (Again) – Recommit to Covenantal Responsibility (Returning to Balance) Finally, with both the sacred longing and the contemporary challenges in view, return to the core of Jewish peoplehood's responsibility. Just as the ritual steps remind us of the Kohanim's service, we must ask: what is our "service" today, in a sovereign state without the Temple? How do we build an ethical, democratic, and secure society in the Land of Israel that strives towards the ideals of justice, compassion, and peace, even as the ultimate vision remains distant? This step is about internalizing the "not haughty" instruction from the text – approaching our engagement with Israel with humility, a willingness to self-critique, and a deep commitment to the Jewish values of tikkun olam (repairing the world) and rachmanut (compassion). This final "left foot" brings us back to a place of balanced responsibility, acknowledging both the miraculous and the imperfect, and inspiring us towards active, hopeful work for a better future for all in the land.

Takeaway

The ancient ritual of taking three steps back after prayer, far from being a mere historical relic, serves as a powerful metaphor for our engagement with Zionism and Modern Israel. It reminds us that our journey is an intricate dance between the deep, covenantal longing for a perfected future (symbolized by the rebuilt Temple) and the concrete, often imperfect, realities of our present existence. The "left foot first" embodies both our reluctance to ever fully disconnect from the divine and our humble acknowledgement of the sacred responsibility that comes with our peoplehood. In navigating the complexities of modern Israel, we are called not to retreat or to run, but to engage with a spirit of "strong spine, open heart"—to understand the enduring sacred aspirations, to grapple honestly with contemporary challenges, and to continuously recommit ourselves to building a society that reflects the highest ideals of justice, peace, and human dignity, for all its inhabitants. This is our ongoing "service," our embodied prayer, in this generation.