Friday, October 28, 2022

Did Noah Drink Alone

 Jewish tradition contains a great deal of ceremony that includes drinking a cup of wine. There is Kiddush at the Shabbas meals, and Yom Tov meals as well…Not to mention four cups of wine at the Pesach Seder. There’s wine drunk under the chuppah, and even wine given to the babe at the bris (to sooth him and numb him from the pain to come). And there is often a great deal of wine on Purim and Simchas Torah. And yet, on the whole, Jews are not known as a drunken people, perhaps because at each of these occasions at which wine is drunk, one is meant to be sharing time with others.

The first mention of wine in the Torah comes in Bereishis 9, in Parshas Noah. After the world has been destroyed and Hashem has made the covenant of the rainbow with Noah, the Torah states: “And Noah began to be a man of the soil, and he planted a vineyard” (9:20). Most commentaries immediately flag the fact that planting a vineyard was what Noah chose as his very first action. One would think that he would first plant food. Noah planted a vineyard and immediately the Torah tells us that he drank and got drunk and embarrassed himself. His son, Ham, derided him while his other two sons, Shem and Yafes, tried to treat him respectfully. When Noah woke from his wine induced slumber, probably with a fearsome hangover, he cursed  son Canaan.

This famous story, when looked at a little closer, leads to some rather fascinating realizations about how we read the Torah. Telling time in the Torah is not always a simple thing, to say the least. With its string of conjunction vav’s, and…and…and…, it often sounds as if one thing happened right after another, and they are therefore related. Certainly, one reading the narrative of Noah imagines it all happening as consecutive action. Noah and sons get out of the Ark, build an altar for an offering, receive Hashem’s blessing and covenant, and set to farming the land and plant a vinyard. There is no mention of a passage of time, which makes Noah’s taking to drink seem all the more unacceptable.

But then there’s Canaan. When Noah gets drunk and goes “uncovered in his tent” (9:21), the Torah tells us: “And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw his father’s nakedness” (9:22). After Noah awakens, he doesn’t curse Ham, but rather Ham’s son Canaan. Not surprisingly, given the pacing of the Parsha, most people don’t stop to question where Canaan came from. After all, it is stated quite clearly that only Noah and his wife and his three sons and their wives got onto the Ark. The subtly active role of Canaan in these verses tell us that Noah did not just hop out of the Ark and think about getting drunk.

Given the fact that the Midrash states that Noah and his sons and Noah’s wife and his sons’ wives kept themselves apart while the flood ravaged the land, we can assess that Canaan was not even conceived until after the catastrophe. But then, if Noah turned to farming so soon after the covenant of the rainbow, how old could Ham have been at the time of Noah’s drunkenness? Researching grapes, one finds that there is a common assessment that it takes from 3-7 years for a grapevine to bear fruit. Once we are realizing that these situations did not take place with the immediacy that is implied in the pacing of the verses, one can now recognize that by the time Ham insulted his father’s dignity, Canaan was already a child old enough to be influenced by the actions of those around him…if not already a young adult.

This leads to a basic question of why Noah sought to get drunk. One might have thought that Noah was drinking as a means to forget the destruction of the world that he knew, but now we know that a significant amount of time has passed. Life is moving forward and there is a whole world to rebuild…a whole world for his sons and their wives and his grandchildren. Noah, who was a unique and special man from among his generation, finds himself on the other side of life and perhaps doesn’t know what to do with himself. This is would also, possibly, explain why some commentaries accentuate the idea that Noah wanted to have a fourth child and was prevented from doing so by the actions of Ham. That fourth child would have brought him relevance among the next generation.

Planting the vineyard would not, in itself, seem to be a problem. One can assume that they all drank some wine. Archeological and historical studies have found that wine or beer was often the more common drink than water. The problem was that Noah drank to excess, and did so, perhaps, purposefully because he no longer felt a purpose. The problem was that Noah did not feel connected to the world his sons were building. Shem and Yafet could show such a perspective sympathy. Ham could not.

Understanding the motivations of the Biblical personalities helps us to understand deeper lessons in the Torah. Here, where it is easy to take an attitude of condescension to Noah for his behavior, perhaps one should also take the time to think about his motivations. Perhaps one needs to contemplate Noah’s life before, during, and after the flood. Perhaps one needs to not glance quickly at the situation and presume a failing, but rather think through the steps that brings a person to a place.  In learning to do so, we come back to the beautiful truth at the heart of Jewish life: we are a family and we are meant to be there for each other.  

Shabbat Shalom

 

Friday, October 21, 2022

Sons of the Mighty and Their Wives

 Parshas Bereishis, in the beginning… so many times our Divrei Torah start in the beginning of the parsha. For this reason, I decided to base the parsha this week on the last perek of the parsha, Perek Vav (6), of which only 8 pasukim (verses) are included.

Parshas Bereishis is the outline of the creation of the world and the history of the origins of humanity. Adam and Chava begat their sons, and their sons begat other children, and the population of the world increased, just as Hashem had commanded and blessed when He said peru u’revu – be fruitful and multiply.
The sixth chapter of Bereishis begins with statement of time: “And it was when man began to multiply on the face of the earth and daughters were born to them” (Bereishis 6:1). This pasuk has two very interesting dimensions to explore. The first question is the use of the word rov, multiply, which has the implication not just of increasing numbers but also of strength or greatness. It was not just that there were now so many people, but rather that they began to delineate greatness among themselves. Thus it makes sense when the commentators explain that the bnei eh’lohim described in the next verse in contrast to bnei ha’adam refers to the sons of princes or men of power rather than to a more literal “sons of god.”
Rabbi Shimshon Rafael Hirsh explains the opinion that these b’nei eh’lohim were the descendants of Seth, Adam’s son born after the death of Hevel at Kayin’s hands. In Seth’s line, “the godly, even if not strong enough to effect the complete salvation of the generation, did always recur.” When the Torah describes those who had grown mighty, it is relating to an elite that had a greater affinity to connecting to the Divine, as opposed to the descendants of Kayin who worked toward invention and industry but without looking for Divine purpose.
The second half of the first verse is more perplexing. Why is the time frame defined by the time when daughters were born to them? After all, throughout the list of begettings (Chapter 5), it frequently states “and he begot sons and daughters.” Not to mention that if there hadn’t been daughters, there would not be begettings…
Perhaps the daughters mentioned here are the daughters of those who were growing in greatness, the daughters of the line Seth specifically. This would give us an interesting perspective on verse 6:2, which states: “And the sons of the mighty saw the daughters of men, that they were good and pleasing, and they took them for wives from whomsoever they chose.” As all the commentators seem to agree, the sons of the mighty put beauty and pleasing ways at the forefront of their decision making, and they found that in the line of Kayin rather than in those who were more spiritually focused. Perhaps there is an inference in these two verses together that not only were the sons of the elite choosing wives from those who were less focused on spirituality, but that they were ignoring women of caliber from their own extensive line.
This may sound elitist, but that is not the intention. A girl from b’nei ha’adam could be one who strove to connect with the Divine and thus would be a good match. The intention of this severe demarcation is noting that the priority was on their being good and pleasing, but not on their background, not on the possibility of having absorbed negative traits. Rav Hirsch explains further, when discussing the verse’s statement that they took from whomsoever they chose, that “They married girls without considering where they were taking them from.”
Family matters. Thus Rav Hirsh continues to explain that it was not an impossibility for such a union to produce a line that was spiritually forward thinking, but that it held great risk. That risk came to fruition, for corruption increased upon the earth. The Midrashim describe that the violence referred to in Parshas Noah included men grabbing women they desired to marry, even women who were already married. The value system skewed, and it ended in the near destruction of the world.
Jewish tradition teaches us that all humans are b’tzelem E-lokim, created in the image of God. The people of the world are divided into 70 nations, and each of these nations has a derech, a path, and a tafkid, a purpose. Bnei Yisrael is distinct among the nations in that our purpose is spiritual connection, and here in Bereishis is a lesson to help us remember to focus on our values and not the values of others.

Friday, October 7, 2022

Parshas Ha’azinu – A Very Short Thought on the Poetry of Rain

Parshas Ha’azinu holds a unique place in the cycle of the Jewish year. A parsha of pure poetry, and thus  sometimes difficult to distill a Dvar Torah, it is read during the busiest time on the calendar.

 

Reading the parsha on the brink of Sukkot, there is a special inference that one might see in the opening verses of Parshas Ha’azinu: “Hear, O’ Heavens, I shall speak; Let the earth hear the words of my mouth. May my discourse come down like rain; My words flow like dew; like showers on vegetation; and like raindrops on the grass” (Devarim 32:1-2).

 

Although it is a normal poetic form for an idea to be repeated, there is much to learn from Devarim 32:2. Moshe opens his final song with a comparison of his words to rain. We all know that now is the season when we pray for rain. From an agricultural perspective, that prayer would most probably be shaped more specifically as a prayer for the right rain. (Afterall, a monsoon that sweeps away the soil is also rain.)

 

Traditionally, the Torah is compared to Mayim Chaim, to living water. Just as every living creation needs rain, we know that there cannot be life without Torah. And so, Moshe crafts the opening of his final song.

 

We receive Torah in many ways. Sometimes it is the steady repetition of study, an even flow of regular intake that nourishes us evenly. Sometimes we learn Torah gently, like dew, from the regular ebb and flow of life, from the routine of living our lives. Sometimes true Torah has to be thrust upon us, powerful and loud. Sometimes we have to pay special attention around us to notice the Torah.

 

The earth is nourished by rain. Klal Yisrael is nourished by Torah. This is the basic fact of existence.

 

May you all have a Good Shabbas and a true Zman Simchaseinu.

Tuesday, October 4, 2022

YK

 

Yom Kippur – Atonement as Prayer

I’ve been trying to do the work I need to do before Yom Kippur, and it isn’t easy. I listen to shiurim and get distracted halfway through (If I’m lucky enough to get that far). I sit to try and self-reflect, and I end up in a spiral of thoughts leading downward… or smacking into a brick wall.

 

I want to be able to be present for this great day… I want to be able to really connect to each of the “al chaits,” to determine how I have transgressed and how I can do better. I want to feel the terror and trembling we hear of from previous generations so that I can also access the sweet that follows with the knowledge that the tefillos are accepted.

 

For now, I simply continue to strive.

 

On Rosh Hashana I made small index cards for myself, notes of inspiration to help me focus on accepting Hashem as Melech and all that that might entail. For Yom Kippur, I was contemplating making other cards…but what would I put that is not already encompassed by the established service?

 

The honest answer is that my personal atonement is directly connected to my greatest yearning.

 

Please forgive me Hashem for not working hard enough to connect to you.

Please grant me atonement for choosing the path of least resistance when more effort would have garnered me greater spiritual reward.

Please know that when I fight, it is, at its heart, a fight to come closer to You.

 

Please accept that I don’t know how to fix my ills. I have intentions, but my path is so murky.

And even as I read these personal reflections, part of me is rebelling. Part of me knows that my davening kavana will not suddenly improve, that I will still go running into Shabbas, that I might be nivel peh when stuck in traffic…and etc.

 

And thus the cycle starts again. I want to move forward and yet there is a wall, a blockage. And this is the stark truth of my reality, I pray for You to draw me close even as I ask pardon for pushing You away.

 

It hurts. It’s hard to face oneself with one’s truth (and so I will , most probably, blithely forget the emotions behind these thoughts even a few moments after I write them). When Yom Kippur is over, however, I will have my own victory to celebrate. I shall be left, if not with perfect atonement, then at least with a spark of hope, a kernel of optimism, that my desire to connect to Hashem has earned me another year to grow.

 

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A Second Short Thought

There is so much we can learn from the two goats of Yom Kippur in the Beis Hamikdash. This ritual is the source of the term scapegoat, which refers to that on which we place the blame for our failings. The other goat is sacrificed in the avodah.

 

Perhaps on Yom Kippur, reading about this part of the service, I should think about how I am presenting my atonement to Hashem. Forgive me for loshen harah (I only said it because of what she did). Forgive my transgressions with food (I mean I was starving, but I should have made a bracha.) Forgive my willfulness (You did create us with freewill!)

Am I making my atonements as if I am placing them on the scapegoat – these are my sins, but, you know, they aren’t so bad… or am I making my atonement to connect with the avodah, to be cleansed through the service?

 

I hope that the latter can be my motivation, but I fear that the former reigns over my actions. I am writing in honesty. I am not chastising myself. This is a step; one step out of many. This year, perhaps, I gain knowledge, and, knowledge will provide the power to change.

 

I wish you all a Gmar Chasima Tova… and I tip my hat in debt to Esty, you know what I mean.