In Defense of Noach

Parshat Noach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Of all the Biblical heroes, those we might call the "good guys," Noach gets the worst rap. When we are first introduced to him, we are told he was a tzaddik (righteous man) "in his generation." Rashi famously pounces on the added term, suggesting that he was a good guy in his generation alone, but had he lived in the generation of Avraham, he would not have been a person of significance.

Some further note that Noach never prayed for, or interceded on behalf of the people of his generation, in any manner similar to Avraham's protests on behalf of the doomed inhabitants of Sodom (see Rabbenu Bachaye on 6:14, for example). He may have taken his time building the ark, but as Bill Cosby noted in his popular "Noah" routine, if people asked him why he was building the ark, his response did not exactly inspire repentance (as is indicated by Rashi's "'Perhaps' they'd repent" in 6:14).

The Midrash Rabba compares the Torah's depiction of Noach to how it depicts Moshe. Noach starts as an "Ish Tzaddik" - a righteous man (6:9), but is last depicted as an "Ish Ha'Adamah" - a man of the earth (9:20). While being a man of the earth is not particularly a bad thing, it seems to be a step down from his original status. And once one considers that the epithet comes even after he has offered sacrifices to his God, the evidence is reproving in his disfavor.

Moshe, on the other hand, is depicted in his early days as an "Ish Mitzri" - an Egyptian man (Shmot 2:19), while at the end of his life he is called an "Ish Ha'Elokim" - a man of God (Devarim 33:1). His life seems to be a progression to greater holiness.

These critiques may reflect personality traits of Noach. He listened to God's instructions, but did not have the wherewithal to confront or inspire people, or to teach them to be more Godly. He may have been a tzaddik when others were around, but maybe the same personality trait did not hold water when Noach is the "only" human being around (aside from his immediate family) after the flood.

While I can not defend Noach against these accusations, I would like to share a defense pointed out by the Kli Yakar, which adds to Noach's esteem even beyond the Torah's "And Noach found favor in God's eyes." (6:8)  

Towards the end of Chapter 6, God tells Noach, "And you will take for yourself of all kinds of edible foods. You will gather it to you. And it will be food for you and for [the animals]." (6:21)

Says the Kli Yakar: "Taking for yourself implies 'from your own and not from the [food] of others.' This was to remind Noach not to think that just because everyone else will die soon and will have no need for their money or property, that everything in the world was available to him for the taking." The miracle, he explains, is that Noach's personal rations – from what he personally owned – sufficed for all those on the ark, man and beast, for one year.

This is quite significant. Noach is living in a time in which "Chamas" – robbery – is rampant. The fact that this does not even register as a possibility for him, he being the only one who understands that God will be destroying the world, and how truly "you can't take it with you" applied to the people of his generation, is a remarkable trait for a person living in that time period.

Think about it. Adam and Chava "stole" from the tree from which they were forbidden to eat. The Slonimer Rebbe (Nesivos Shalom) points out a remarkable difference between the offerings of Kayin and Hevel, that Kayin brought from "the fruit of the earth" (4:3) while Hevel brought from "the best of his sheep" (4:4). The source of Hevel's offering was his own property! Kayin's offering may not have been "his!" It may have been stolen!

Noach did not descend from Kayin. Nonetheless it is noteworthy how the concept of taking "that which does not belong to you" is a flaw which afflicted even the first humans on earth. But Noach overcame, and did not have that temptation. This allowed him to even hold back from taking from those who would never miss it.

The message is simple. Noach is a tzaddik in the first part of the parsha because he never let money, or the pursuit of money, get in the way of his relationship with God and other human beings. Any food ultimately brought aboard the ark was either grown by him or purchased honestly.

It takes a big man to go against the grain. Particularly in a society when everyone is stealing because "everyone else does," it is the truly righteous who steps back and says, "I don't. Because stealing is wrong."

By the end of the account of Noach in the Torah, he does not enjoy the same status as he did at the beginning of his tale. But his moral stance should continue to inspire all of us. Unlike many who choose to do the wrong thing following the bad example of others (like, say, double parking on a busy street that has one lane in each direction), who justify their behavior because "everyone does it," Noach set a standard that if it's wrong you don't do it, even if everyone else says otherwise.

The Crouching Sin

Parshat Bereshit

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The stage is set. The first two sons of Man have brought their offerings to their God, and He has favored the younger's dedication. The older brother is disheartened, and it shows on his face.

Says God, "What are you so frustrated? Why has your face fallen? If you do good, you will lift up! But if not, then sin lies crouching at the door. It desires to get you, but you can rule over it." (4:6-7)

            

In the next verse Kayin kills his brother.

The story is incomplete. Why Kayin killed Hevel is unclear. Was he provoked? Was it self defense? Did he even understand that his act could be fatal? Was the murder premeditated? Or an error? There are a myriad of interpretations hinged on the question of what the "sin crouching at the door" might be. As God's statement was the last thing Kayin heard before he committed murder, one can argue it was the trigger that unleashed his rage. But what did God mean?

In a lecture on repentance delivered in 1987, Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein explained the "sin that crouches at the door" as the most blatant obstacle to proper observance of the Law and commitment to God which plagues a particular hashkafic (philosophical) community.

"…[It] is not the same sin at every door. Each door, each domicile, each community has its particular sin, a specific spiritual danger indigenous to it, endemic to that group or that individual." Quoting the Chafetz Chaim, he notes that different generations have different pitfalls. Some "succumb to idolatry, others to desecration of Shabbat, some to sins between man and his Maker, and others to interpersonal sins."

At the same time that he declared the sin plaguing the Religious Zionist community (ie "Modern Orthodox" community in the United States) to be one of "shikhecha," forgetting God, or "lacking the immanent sense of God felt so deeply, keenly and pervasively in other parts of the halakhically committed Jewish world" (which is indeed a problem), he defined "avodah zara" – beyond idolatry – as "superstition and misguided conceptions of God."

Rabbi Lichtenstein does not need my stamp of approval. His assessment of our community is spot on. But I think his definition of avodah zara is also quite noteworthy.

Looking to rabbis (people) as role models is wonderful. Idolizing them and turning them into flawless human beings is idolatry. Many rabbis exhibit excellent judgment all the time. Some make mistakes. The real Gedolim acknowledge their mistakes.

Kosher laws are quite special. Making an obsession about invisible parasites – and thus declaring water, lettuce, broccoli and strawberries unkosher – is idolatry. (No one is interested in eating infested vegetables. Remind people that bugs are not kosher, but don't wage war on fruits and vegetables!)

Modesty is one of the most important Jewish traits. But making a religion solely about personal definitions of such – when the law is somewhat flexible, and in some cases changes based on the standards of the general society – is idolatry! Modesty is not just about length of clothing and size of head coverings.

A chupah is a public event that declares a man and woman united in marriage. This allows them to be seen together in public, and to sit together at a wedding or any simcha other than their own wedding. Who has separate seating at their family Shabbat table?

Why do advertisements for communities and retirement homes in magazines only feature males in the photographs? Is it such a crime to see a photograph of a little girl, a mother in modest dress, or an elderly woman in a wheelchair? This is our world. This is life.

           

Mandating to others how to live, and judging their "frumkeit" based on externals (not calling a Kohen or Levi to the Torah or not counting a bar mitzvah for a minyan on account of a T-shirt or their not being from "your crowd") is not only the most disgusting form of sinat chinam (baseless hatred), but is also a form of idolatry. 

I received the following email in response to a debate about metzitzah that I posted on my blog, in which a pro Metzitzah b'Peh person told me that he cares not about Jews or people (or babies) in general, but only about "God and Halacha": "The 'pious' Jew who only cares about 'God' and His rulebook is clearly off the derech… whatever he is worshipping it is not God. He [has] invented a God to worship and [has] created an imaginary rule book… to replace the much more challenging reality [of what it means to be an observant Jew]."

Kayin could not overcome his crouching sin, perhaps his passion, and it caused him to kill his brother.

           

For some Jewish people, worship of the "avodah zara" I have described is their crouching sin. On account of it Judaism is ultimately denigrated, the shouting matches which ensue, and the negative feelings exacerbated through criticizing others all come at the expense of the, perhaps unanticipated, desecration of God's name which appears in television, newspapers and blogs fueled by misinformation, yes, but also improperly presented information which depicts Orthodox Jews as being hopelessly stubborn or blinded by their own faith.

            

In Kayin's case, his sin lay in his inabilities: to discern the flaw in his gift to God, to learn from his mistakes, and to see that he could live in harmony with his brother, despite their differences, and that each had a unique way of relating to God. If they could only respect the other approach – live and let live and stop telling the other what to do in the most intolerant of ways – they could have lived in harmony.

The saga of brother versus brother need have never unfolded so tragically.

Family Relationships

A little belated, this article can be found here, on the Jewish Star's web site

Parshat Bereishit
What Cain said is not important

By Rabbi Avi Billet
Issue of October 16 2009/ 29 Tishrei 5770

Chava bears two children, Kayin (Cain) and Hevel, and each one takes on a profession. Time passes, Kayin brings an offering to G-d, and Hevel follows suit. Then the Torah describes the events that transpire:

4:4. G-d paid heed to Hevel and his offering 5. but to Kayin and his offering, He paid no heed. Kayin became very furious and depressed. 6. G-d said to Kayin, ‘Why are you so furious? Why are you depressed? 7. If you do good, will there not be special privilege? And if you do not do good, sin is crouching at the door. It lusts after you, but you can dominate it. 8 Kayin said to Hevel, his brother. Then, when they happened to be in the field, Kayin rose up against Hevel his brother, and killed him.

It is important to never trust a translation. Look up these verses in their original Hebrew if you want to get the most out of the following ideas.

In verse 8, the big question is what did Kayin say to Hevel his brother? The Torah does not say. Rashi makes our lives simple by saying, “There are midrashim about this, but essentially they got into an argument which came to blows.”

Ibn Ezra is a little more practical and says that a more appropriate translation would be “Kayin told Hevel, his brother” about his conversation with G-d. Toldot Yitzchak agrees, and says Kayin told him this to set the stage to kill Hevel deceptively. When a person “puts himself out there” by making a confession, the listener generally lets his guard down in empathy and sympathy. Hevel was cautious of Kayin’s temper, but with Kayin’s confession he felt more comfortable.

Using the midrashic idea that Hevel was actually stronger than Kayin, the Vilna Gaon agrees that Kayin was a trickster, but also explains that what Kayin said was “Achiv” — that he called Hevel “brother,” in order to get Hevel to feel comfortable and relaxed. This explains why in the later verses, G-d says, “Where is Hevel your brother?” G-d, in essence, was saying, “Where is Hevel whom you have been calling ‘Brother?’ What happened to that relationship?”

Kli Yakar suggests Kayin was really rebuking Hevel saying, “I am better than you. I was the first to give an offering to G-d. You only brought an offering because you saw I had offered one.”

Different midrashim suggest, as Rashi hints, that they may have argued over a number of things including: division of the world — as in real estate versus tangible objects; division of the worlds — who will rule over this world versus who will rule over the world to come; on whose land the Holy Temple will one day be built; something relating to Chava; inheritance rights; or who would get to marry Hevel’s more beautiful twin.

Targum Yonatan explains the verse as a string of existential and philosophical arguments that ended with Kayin smashing Hevel’s head, killing him.

One of the most innovative explanations is offered by the Ktav V’Hakabalah, who suggests Kayin was responding to G-d’s question in verse 8. The world “el,” that until now we have translated as “to,” can also be translated as “bishvil,” meaning “on account of.” In other words, in response to G-d’s “Why are you sad?” he responded, “on account of Hevel his brother.”

Finally, the Shakh says the Torah deliberately left out what Kayin said out of respect for the firstborn. Certainly whatever they argued about was petty and Kayin’s words — either a cheap shot or a silly argument — are unnecessary to record for posterity. It is bad enough that the murder is recorded; let it stand as it is.

I agree with the Shakh that if indeed Kayin did say something to Hevel, the specific words are not necessary to be recorded. Most arguments that take place between family members could probably be avoided, and often begin over very petty things.

We allow ourselves to get upset with family, and we excuse behavior that would not be tolerated anywhere else, thinking “It is my family member. Surely I will be forgiven and the incident will be forgotten later. We love each other anyway, no matter what.”

While members of our community are not likely to commit actual murder on account of disputes, verbal and emotional fights can wage on for weeks, months, years, decades, and even across generations. If you don’t want to be someone’s friend anymore, that is one discussion, but when these fights take place within a family, it is heartbreaking.

Is it really worth it?

If you are the one who said the wrong thing once (or many times), apologize already. Own up. And if you are the one who was on the receiving end of abusive or hurtful language, hopefully when that phone call comes, you will have the wherewithal to accept the apology, forgive and move on.

The story of Cain and Abel need not continue.