S.A.L.T. – PARASHAT BEREISHIT

By Rav David Silverberg

MOTZAEI

            As part of its description of Gad Eden, the Torah, in Parashat Bereishit, identifies four rivers that flowed from the garden: Pishon, Gichon, Chidekel and Perat (2:11-14).  Pishon is commonly identified as the Nile River, while Chidekel and Perat are understood, respectively, as the Tigris and Euphrates.  It is not clear which river is called Gichon.

            In any event, the question arises as the purpose of this description.  Why did the Torah find it necessary to name the four rivers that flowed from Eden?

            The Malbim suggested a symbolic approach to these verses, claiming that they allude to the four “roads” that lead a person out of the spiritual ideal represented by Gan Eden.  The first three rivers – Pishon, Gichon and Chidekel – allude to the Mishna’s warning in Pirkei Avot (4:21), “Jealousy, lust and honor drive a person from the world.”  Pishon, as the Torah describes (2:11), flowed around a region containing gold, and thus symbolizes the dangers of jealousy, how the material competitiveness can lead a person away from “Eden,” from a life of spiritual harmony.   Gichon, we read (2:13), flowed to Kush (generally identified as Ethiopia) and passed near Egypt.  Chazal on several occasions note that society in ancient Egypt was especially immoral and promiscuous, and thus the river Gichon might represent the dangers of lust.  The third river, Chidekel, flowed to Assyria (2:14), which would later produce an empire characterized by aggression and unrestrained craving for power and dominion.  This river is thus representative of the third quality that threatens to lead a person away from Eden – a craving for honor and fame.

            The fourth river, according to the Malbim, while flowing away from Gan Eden, teaches us the way to earn our way back to the garden.  Perat is often mentioned as the furthermost border of Eretz Yisrael.  We make our way back to Gan Eden, to the spiritual ideal for which we were created, by flowing toward Eretz Yisrael, by directing our lives toward the values of sanctity and Godliness symbolized by our sacred homeland.

            Interestingly enough, the Torah here does not specify the geography of Perat.  While with regard to the other three some geographical data is provided, when it comes to Perat, the Torah simply mentions its name without any further identification.  Ironically, this is the river which, according to the Malbim’s interpretation, we are bidden to follow in our effort to return to our primordial state of spiritual perfection.  How might we explain the absence of any details about this river?

            Rav Yaakov Haber (http://torahweb.org/torah/2006/parsha/rhab_braishis.html) suggested that accordingly to the Malbim’s symbolic reading of this verse, we can understand why the Torah introduced Perat without mentioning where it flows.  It often appears, initially, that all “rivers” lead toward the path of contentment and success except for the “river” that flows to Eretz Yisrael, to the ideals of Torah life.  It might seem to us that the path of Torah and mitzvot, unlike all other options, leads us to nowhere.  But just as Perat is described as not flowing anywhere, while it in truth leads toward the return to Eden, similarly, the path of Torah ultimately leads us in the proper direction.  Not always will it be obvious to us while sailing on the river Perat that we are headed in the desired direction, in the direction of spiritual meaning and fulfillment.  We might be misled by the other “rivers,” the roads to wealth, fame and indulgence, which at first seem like far more appealing pursuits.  The Torah therefore reminds us to remain on Perat, to keep sailing in the direction of sanctity, and no be lured by the temptations of “jealousy, lust and honor,” which ultimately “drive a person from the world.”

SUNDAY

            The Torah in Parashat Bereishit tells the famous story of Adam’s sons, Kayin and Hevel, which resulted in Hevel’s murder at the hands of his jealous brother.

            The Midrash Tanchuma presents a dialogue between Kayin and God following the murder, one which sheds light on Kayin’s thinking and rationale in deciding to murder his kin:

When the Almighty said to him [Kayin], “Where is your brother, Hevel?” (4:9), he said to Him, “I do not know – am I my brother’s guardian?  You are the one who guards all creatures, and You’re asking me about him?”  This is comparable to a thief who stole vessels at night and was not caught.  In the morning, the guard caught him.  He said to him, “Why did you steal the vessels?”  He said to him, “I am a thief, and I did not relinquish my craft.  But you – your craft is to stand guard at the gate.  Why did you relinquish your craft and now say this to me?”  Similarly, Kayin said, “I killed him.  You created within me an evil inclination.  You guard everything, and You allowed me to kill him.  You are the one who killed him…for if you had accepted my offering like [You accepted] his, I would not have been envious of him!”

            When Kayin experienced the uneasy feelings of envy, jealous of God’s accepting his brother’s offering, he felt justified in acting upon those emotions and killing his brother.  The culprit, he figured, would be God, who implanted within him the feelings of envy and rage that brought him to bloodshed.

            Kayin subscribed to the belief that people should not be held accountable for their misconduct which results from strong emotions that overtake them.  If we feel an instinctive urge to act in a certain way, he felt, then we are perfectly justified in our decision to act upon those feelings.

            The Torah, of course, teaches that to the contrary, we are capable of restraining our emotions and acting correctly even when we feel a desire to act otherwise.  Indeed, before Kayin’s murderous act, God instructed him, “…it will cling to you, but you can exert control over it” (4:7).  Rashi explains this clause as referring to the yetzer ha-ra, and emphasizing the ability we each have to oppose our natural instincts even when they “cling” to us relentlessly.

            We cannot dismiss our wrongful conduct as simply the natural result of our ingrained impulses over which we have no control.  We are, instead, to constantly work to overpower our instincts and, difficult as it may be, live disciplined lives in strict accordance with God’s will.

(Based on a sicha by HaRav Yehuda Amital, available at http://vbm-torah.org/archive/sichot67/01-67bereishit.htm)

MONDAY

            The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 8) relates that when God created Adam, the angels in the heavens mistakenly assumed that they should sing shira (song of praise) to him.  Apparently, they mistook Adam for a divine being.  It was only when God brought sleep upon Adam for the first time that they realized that he was not divine.

            Clearly, Chazal here seek to emphasize people’s potential for greatness, on the one hand, as well as their mortality, on the other.  The human being is regarded as such a remarkable creature that Adam was misperceived as a God; at the same time, however, his physical limitations made it clear that he is very far from divine, and, in many ways, he was no different from the rest of the animal kingdom.

            What specific attribute of the human being misled the angels to ascribe to Adam divine properties?

            It is likely that the angels were misled by Adam’s power of free choice.  Before the creation of man, all creatures – both angels and animals – acted on impulse without the ability to differentiate between right and wrong.  Animals act purely on instinct, and cannot choose their course of action.  Angels, too, as the Sages describe them, fulfill God’s will with robotic consistency and are incapable of choosing to act otherwise.  Adam was the first being – besides God Himself – endowed with the ability to choose what to do and how to act.  Only God and human beings are capable of making independent, free-willed decisions in determining their courses of action.  The angels thus understandably mistook Adam for a divine being, as only he was given the Godlike power of free-willed decision-making.

            The only of Adam’s features that proved his humanness to the angels was his need for sleep – his physical limitations.  The only thing that limits our free will, our power of independent decision-making, is our physical makeup, which imposes certain unavoidable constraints.  We must make time, for example, to tend to our elemental physical needs, to eat, sleep, care for our health, and secure proper shelter and clothing.  Otherwise, our free choice is unlimited, as independent as God’s.  We may never excuse ourselves from making the right choices and decisions by viewing ourselves as driven by forces beyond our control, by pointing to intrinsic qualities or external influences that compel us to act in a certain way. As God told Kayin (4:7; see also yesterday’s edition of S.A.L.T.), we have the ability to exert complete control over our behavior.

            The angels were only partially mistaken.  Although human beings are not divine beings, their power of free will is very much divine.  The Midrash here perhaps seeks to emphasize that our power to determine our conduct is no less independent than God’s, that just as God governs the world with completely independent authority, we, too, have full control over what we say and do at any given moment.

TUESDAY

            The Torah in Parashat Bereishit tells of the curse which God decreed upon the ground as a result of Adam’s sin.  God declared to Adam, “The land shall be cursed on your account; you shall eat it in despondency all the days of your life.  It shall produce thorns and thistles for you, and you shall eat the grass of the field.  Through the sweat of your brow shall you eat bread…” (3:17-19).

            The Gemara in Masekhet Pesachim (118a) provides a more detailed account of God’s decree against mankind.  After God declared that the land will “produce thorns and thistles,” the Gemara relates, Adam wept, lamenting, “Master of the world, my donkey and I shall eat from the same trough?”  In response to Adam’s cries, God informed him that “through the sweat of your brow you shall eat bread,” at which point Adam was consoled.

            How are we to understand God’s response to Adam, and why was Adam consoled by the knowledge that he would have to labor for his daily bread?

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, explained that in His response, God offered Adam an alternative to the situation of “my donkey and I shall eat from the same trough.”  God clarified to Adam that he would not be required to eat the same food as animals, but only if he was prepared to exert effort – “by the sweat of your brow shall you eat bread.”  The land was cursed and therefore did not produce readymade food for Adam the way it had initially – “it shall produce thorns and thistles for you.”  As a result, Adam was forced to either “eat the grass of the field,” or eat bread by the “sweat of his brow.”  Adam felt consoled by the knowledge that despite the new reality which he brought upon himself and his descendants, he nevertheless retained his distinction over other creatures and could eat more refined food – albeit through arduous labor and exertion.

            After relating this exchange between God and Adam, the Gemara proceeds to cite am ambiguous comment of Reish Lakish: “We would have been fortunate had we kept the first.”  Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson, in his Divrei Shaul, explained that Reish Lakish offers a retrospective preference for the first option offered to Adam.  Looking back, Reish Lakish observes that human beings would have been spared much frustration and aggravation if Adam had opted to “eat the grass of the field” like the rest of the animal kingdom.  From Reish Lakish’s viewpoint, it is questionable whether the advantage of “bread” over “the grass of the field” justifies the amount of work and toil entailed.  Perhaps, Reish Lakish notes, we would have been better off accepting the reality of “my donkey and I eat from the same trough” rather than going through the trouble to eat higher quality food.

            Reish Lakish is not advocating eating grass, or even idealizing poverty.  Rather, as the Yalkut Yehuda explained, Reish Lakish cautions against constantly pursuing higher standards of living.  In many instances, the upgrade is not worth the additional pressures involved.  Sometimes, insisting on “bread” over “the grass of the field” comes with the price of “the sweat of your brow.”  Higher standards of living do not always result in better standards of living.  Although we must all work “by the sweat of our brow” to earn our “bread,” Reish Lakish advises us to think carefully before increasing our workload in the interest of raising our living standards.

WEDNESDAY

The Gemara in Masekhet Eruvin (18b) cites a berayta which describes the ascetic measures that Adam undertook for one hundred and thirty years in an effort to earn atonement for the sin of the forbidden tree, including abstaining from marital relations.  The berayta introduces this description by noting that Adam was a “chasid gadol,” an exceedingly pious individual.  These measures are thus seen as indications of Adam’s remarkable piety, the extent to which he afflicted himself in his quest for absolution.

A different perspective on Adam’s abstinence appears to emerge from a comment in the Midrash (Tanchuma Yashan, Bereishit 1:26):

Throughout the one hundred and thirty years during which Adam separated from Chava, the spirits would come to him and be warmed [fertilized] from him, and he [thereby] begat demons.  The Almighty then said: “I created My world only for procreation, as it says, ‘He did not create it for waste; He rather created it for habitation’ (Yeshayahu 45:18).”  What did the Almighty do?  He implanted a desire for Chava in Adam’s heart, and he engaged in relations with her and she gave birth to Shet.

According to the Midrash, God frowned upon Adam’s decision to refrain from procreation.  Not only did Adam fail to reproduce during this period, but his abstinence also resulted in the proliferation of “demons.”

            How might we explain the image of demons becoming fertilized though contact with Adam during his period of abstinence?

            One possible explanation is that the Midrash alludes to the negative impact of idleness, the harm that can result from the lack of productive activity.  When Adam ceased exerting effort and investing energy in the process of procreation of child-rearing, the result was the proliferation of “demons.”  The world suffers when people become lazy, idle and inactive.  When energy is not invested in productive endeavors, the excess energy will find an outlet and produce “demons,” causing harm and destruction to the world.  The image of demons manipulating Adam’s restrained libido for their reproduction might symbolize the harmful effects of unused talents and energy.  When people fail to use their strengths to create, build, develop and enhance the world, they will ultimately produce harmful “demons” capable of overrunning the earth and causing widespread ruin and devastation.

THURSDAY

            A number of verses in Parashat Bereishit (1:26-27, 5:1) mention the famous concept of tzelem Elokim, the notion that Adam was created in the “image” or “form” of God.  The Mishna in Masekhet Avot (3:14) points to this aspect of the human being as an expression of “chiba,” God’s special love for mankind.  Only the human being, among all creatures on earth, was endowed with this unique quality of tzelem Elokim, a certain resemblance to God.

            Rashi, in his commentary to Sefer Devarim (21:23), points to this concept as the basis for the obligation to bury the remains of a deceased person.  The Torah explains this mitzva by noting that an exposed corpse is “kilelat Elokim” – “a curse of God.”  Rashi comments that as human beings are created in God’s image, the sight of a decaying corpse would bring dishonor to the Almighty.  Rashi draws an analogy to a king whose identical twin was convicted of a crime and hung in the public square.  The sight of the deceased body, which closely resembles the king, would be a disgrace to the monarchy.  Similarly, we are bidden to avoid any dishonorable displays of a human being, who is created in God’s image, as this would be an insult to the Almighty.

            The Tosefot Yom Tov commentary to Masekhet Avot (3:11) points to tzelem Elokim as the basis for another famous halakha – the prohibition of “malbin penei chaveiro be-rabim,” causing one’s fellow public humiliation.  Degrading a human being, the Tosefot Yom Tov comments, is tantamount to degrading the Almighty, and for this reason the Mishna includes “malbin penei chaveiro be-rabim” in its list of sins for which one forfeits his share in the next world.  Once we view all human beings as a representation of God in this world, we must naturally accord them basic dignity and respect, and failing to show respect constitutes a grave infringement on the honor of God Himself.

            Of course, the notion of tzelem Elokim must also affect the way a person conducts himself.  If we see ourselves as bearing the imprint of our Creator, we must act in an honorable, dignified manner as befitting God’s representatives.  Just as we dishonor God by embarrassing others, we similarly dishonor God by embarrassing ourselves through unseemly and inappropriate behavior.  Viewing ourselves as living “images” of the Almighty must lead us to conduct our lives in an ethical, disciplined and refined manner, the only lifestyle that is suitable for creatures resembling the King of kings.

FRIDAY

            The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 22) tells of a curious exchange that took place between Adam and his oldest son, Kayin, after Kayin learned of his punishment for murdering his brother:

            Adam Ha-rishon met him [Kayin] and said, “What happened in your judgment?”

            He said, “I performed repentance and received a compromise.”

Adam Ha-rishon began slapping his [own] face [in frustration] and said, “Such is the power of repentance – and I did not know it!”  Adam Ha-rishon immediately arose and declared, “Mizmor shir le-yom ha-Shabbat…” (Tehillim 92)

According to the Midrash, Adam composed Psalm 92 – the Psalm written in honor of Shabbat, which we indeed recite as the daily Psalm each Shabbat – upon learning from his son about the remarkable power of repentance.

            The obvious question arises, what connection is there between this chapter of Tehillim and the newly discovered institution of teshuva?

            This Psalm, after expressing praise to the Almighty for His “works” and “designs” (verse 6), proceeds to address the troubling phenomenon of evildoers who succeed and prosper:

A brutish man cannot know, a fool cannot understand this: though the wicked sprout like grass, though all evildoers blossom, it is only that they may be destroyed forever… Surely, Your enemies, O Lord, surely, Your enemies perish; all evildoers are scattered… I shall see the defeat of my watchful foes, hear the downfall of the wicked who beset me.  The righteous bloom like a date-palm; they thrive like a cedar in Lebanon… In old age they shall still produce fruit…attesting that the Lord is upright…

(Translation taken from the JPS edition of the Bible)

Unlike other chapters of Tehillim, in which David expresses his anguish and concern over the success of his enemies, this chapter addresses the subject from an upbeat, enthusiastic and confident viewpoint.  The author (identified by the Midrash as Adam) is not at all perturbed by the success of the wicked, knowing with certainty that this success is only a temporary stage preceding the evildoers’ ultimate downfall.  The prosperity they currently enjoy in no way undermines the Psalmist’s firm belief that “the Lord is upright,” because he realizes that the evil will ultimately fail and the righteous will “bloom” and “thrive.”

            Upon discovering the power of repentance, Adam learned of the “flexibility” of divine justice, that punishment is not definite or immediate.  The prospect of teshuva enables God to delay retribution in the hope and expectation that the sinner will repent and earn absolution.  The institution of teshuva means that punishment does not automatically follow sin.  While from God’s perspective the system is undoubtedly precise and calculated, from our point of view, it is flexible and imprecise.  A sinner is not automatically condemned, as Adam had originally thought.  The “flexibility” of the system allows him to repent and earn his way back to the Almighty’s favor.

            This also means, however, that the evildoers of the world are given an opportunity to succeed, at least for a period of time.  The same flexibility that allows good people the chance to correct their occasional mishaps also enables the wicked people to continue their destructive work.  They, too, are given time before retribution is paid in the hope of their eventual repentance.

            Most people look upon the success of the wicked as proof against, or at least a challenge to, the doctrine of human accountability and divine justice.  Adam, however, upon learning of the power of teshuva, composed this chapter of Tehillim to teach that this phenomenon is in fact proof to God’s kindness and benevolence.  He does not deliver immediate retribution in order to give all wrongdoers the opportunity to repent.  If repentance is never made, then they will be “destroyed forever,” while the righteous “flourish in the courts of our God” (verse 14).

            This chapter was written for Shabbat, the occasion when we are to view the world from an upbeat, optimistic angle and feel thankful for all that the Almighty has done.  Just as God observed the first Shabbat, as it were, right after looking upon creation and determining that “behold, it was very good,” similarly, we observe Shabbat with a sense of gratitude for the “very good” world we inhabit.  Whereas during the week we are busy struggling with the earth and working to improve it, on Shabbat we stop, look upon the world, and declare, as God did, “Behold, it is very good.”  In this spirit, we recite Psalm 92 which offers an encouraging, confident outlook on even the most troubling phenomenon of life – the prosperity enjoyed by the wicked.  It reminds us that this, too, is testament to God’s benevolence, as He waits patiently for the sinners to repent, confident in the human being’s capacity to change and improve, and thereby avert harsh retribution.