The Israel Koschitzky
Virtual Beit MidrashThe Israel Koschitzky
Virtual Beit Midrash
Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat
Har Etzion
Parashat
Noach
Rav David
Silverberg
We read in Parashat Noach that soon after Noach's departure from the ark in which he survived the flood, he took on farming and sowed a vineyard (9:20). Rashi, citing the Midrash, interprets this verse as presenting a critical assessment of Noach's choice of profession. Rather than involving himself in the production of grapes, Noach should have chosen other, more vital agricultural endeavors as the first step toward rebuilding the earth after the flood.
The Chatam Sofer, however, suggests a different reading, whereby
Noach was indeed justified in choosing this particular enterprise. Recall that immediately upon exiting the
ark Noach constructed an altar and offered animal sacrifices which were pleasing
to God (8:20-21). Conceivably, the
Chatam Sofer writes, Noach's intention in planting a
vineyard was to produce wine with which to offer nesakhim (libations) upon the altar. Just as he had earned God's favor by
offering animals on the altar, he perhaps similarly intended to bring a libation
offering as an expression of his gratitude and submission to the Almighty. Unfortunately, Noach first partook of
the wine before bringing a libation.
As we know, he became intoxicated and engaged in inappropriate conduct,
quickly falling from the great stature of piety by which he was characterized
prior to this incident.
According to the Chatam
Sofer's theory, the story of Noach
after the flood exemplifies the all-too-common phenomenon of projects that are
begun with idealistic motives but ultimately lose their altruistic quality. Occasionally movements and institutions
are initiated out of a sincere desire to effectuate positive change, but with
time egos and greed displace altruism as the driving force behind the
enterprise. The parties involved
lose their sense of mission and idealism, and focus instead on the pursuit of
fame, wealth or other vanities.
Noach, according to the Chatam Sofer, initiated this project out of a sincere
desire to serve God, but ultimately he used it for his own indulgence and
pleasure. The idealistic spirit
with which he planted the vineyard did not pass the test of time, and eventually
gave way to far less admirable goals and ambitions.
******
Towards the end of Parashat Noach the Torah narrates the incident of
Noach's intoxication. We read that
Noach "exposed himself inside his tent" (9:21), at which point his son, Cham,
"saw the nakedness of his father" (9:22), which is commonly understood to mean
that Cham gazed upon his unclothed father.
Rashi cites from the Midrash those who explain that Cham actually engaged
in improper behavior with Noach, and others who claim that he castrated his
father.
Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, however, suggests that we interpret this
clause allegorically. The notion of
"seeing nakedness" appears also later in Sefer Bereishit, in the story of Yosef
and his brothers, when Yosef accuses his brothers of coming to
As Rav Hirsch notes, this approach will depend on how we interpret the
previous verse, which, as mentioned earlier, relates that Noach "exposed himself
inside his tent" ("va-yitgal be-tokh oholo").
At first glance, of course, this clause would suggest that Noach actually
exposed himself. In truth, however,
the root g.l.a., too, can occasionally refer not to bodily
exposure, but to undignified behavior.
In the famous exchange between King David and his wife, Mikhal, after
David's fervent display of dancing when leading the ark to its new home in
It should be noted, however, that the Torah's description of the response
of Cham's brothers to the report of Noach's indecency seems to negate Rav
Hirsch's interpretation. The verse
(9:23) writes that Shem and Yefet "took the garment" and "covered their father's
nakedness," strongly suggesting that this incident involved bodily exposure in
the literal sense, and not simply a general condition of "weakness" and shameful
conduct.
Be that as it may, Rav Hirsch's approach brings the story of Noach and
Cham much closer to the realm of our own experiences and relationships with
other people. Most of us likely
cannot relate to the kind of behavior that Rashi attributes to Cham, but most
certainly can identify, to one extent or another, with the phenomenon described
by Rav Hirsch, gazing upon the weaknesses and failings of our family members and
peers. People very often delight in
observing or learning of the mistakes and misguided conduct of others; they take
pleasure in the failings of those around them, which allow them to feel a degree
of security and pride in their own moral standing. The appeal of tabloid literature
exposing the faults and flaws of celebrities and authority figures stems at
least in part from the natural tendency to vindicate oneself on the coattails
of other people's failings, rather than on the basis of one's own
achievements. Cham, according to
Rav Hirsch, was guilty of precisely this crime relishing the sight of Noach's
degradation, celebrating the moment of weakness in a life that was otherwise
characterized by spiritual greatness and nobility. The message, then, is that we must find
a way to put other people's flaws in their proper perspective, look beyond
people's mistakes, and genuinely respect our peers even upon discovering their
faults and weaknesses.
******
In the previous two editions of S.A.L.T., we discussed the story told
towards the end of Parashat Noach of the incident that occurred shortly after
Noach's emergence from the ark following the deluge. Noach planted a vineyard, partook of the
wine and became inebriated, at which point he "exposed himself" in his
tent. His son Cham looked upon him
(or worse, according to some views in the Midrashim) and summoned his two
brothers to join him in relishing this moment of Noach's humiliation. The brothers, Shem and Yefet, chose to
protect their father's dignity and covered Noach. Although both Shem and Yefet took part
in this effort, the Torah, as Rashi (9:23) notes, employs the singular form
va-yikach in narrating their action. Rashi cites from the Midrash that Shem
exerted himself with particular zeal in performing this mitzva, and in reward for this exertion his
descendants Am Yisrael were given the special mitzva of tzitzit.
Just as Shem placed a garment upon his father, so do his descendants
forever more wear special garments in fulfillment of the mitzva of
tzitzit.
How might we explain the connection between Shem's zeal in protecting his father's honor, and the mitzva of tzitzit?
Shem rushed to cover his father because of his firm belief in Noach's right to respect and dignity despite what had just transpired. Even after humiliating himself, Noach was still a man of greatness or at least could return to his stature of greatness and deserved to be looked upon as such. It is perhaps significant that the Torah describes Shem and Yefet as covering Noach with "Ha-simla" "THE garment" suggesting an emphasis on the fact that they used the same garment Noach had always worn. Shem was convinced that this unfortunate incident did not necessarily spell the end of Noach's prominence; he deserved the right to rebound from this moment of shame and reclaim his stature as a noble and reputable tzadik. This is in direct contrast to the response of Cham, who saw his father's intoxication as the end of his period of greatness, and concluded that Noach could now be ridiculed and mocked as a lowly drunkard.
It is in this sense, perhaps, that Shem's kindness towards his father relates to the mitzva of tzitzit. The Torah describes the purpose of this mitzva as follows:
" and you shall see it and be mindful of all the commandments of the Lord and perform them, and you shall not stray after your heart and your eyes after which you are led in lust so that you will be mindful of and perform all My commandments, and be sacred to your God"
(Bamidbar 15:39-40)
The Chafetz Chayim is cited as observing that the Torah here demands nothing less than "be sacred to your God," even while addressing people who are "led in lust" by what they see and think. The mitzva of tzitzit is intended to help ensure that otherwise "ordinary" people, who are subjected to the same temptations and negative tendencies that affect all human beings, can reach holiness. The tzitzit function as a kind of "uniform" that reminds the individual that he belongs to a special group of people assigned a special role and held to a special standard. When a person finds himself "straying after his heart and eyes," the tzitzit remind him that despite his imperfections and failings, he is still a man of Godliness and sanctity and must therefore act accordingly. Just as Noach's lapse did not necessarily undermine his stature of greatness, so do the tzitzit remind each person that his flaws and foibles do not prevent him from achieving greatness, or absolve him from the obligation to pursue the ideal of "you shall be sacred to your God."
*******
We read in Parashat Noach of the promise God proclaims after Noach's emergence from the ark to never again flood the earth. He designates the rainbow as an eternal sign of this promise, declaring that the appearance of a rainbow after a rainstorm signifies the guarantee that rainwater will never again destroy the world. In explaining the precise function of this "sign," the Radak comments, "When people see it [the rainbow] they will remember that it is a sign of the covenant that the Almighty established for them, and they will not fear the deluge." According to the Radak, the rainbow serves as a source of encouragement for all mankind, who might otherwise be tormented by the memory of the flood and live in fear of a similar catastrophe.
Seforno, however, takes a different approach: "It shall be a sign for the righteous people of the generation when their generation is guilty [and deserving of destruction] and they will pray, reprimand and teach wisdom to the people." According to Seforno, the rainbow functions not as a source of encouragement, but rather as a warning. Its appearance signals to the tzadikei ha-dor the spiritual leaders of the time that the generation is deserving of destruction, as in the time of Noach, but that God, true to His promise, has withheld the floodwaters. The righteous leaders will then respond by increasing their efforts in guiding and instructing the people and thereby avert disaster.
Upon considering Seforno's comments, one might wonder why he emphasizes
the role of the tzadikei ha-dor in this process. The rainbow appears prominently in the
sky and is visible to all people, of every background and stature. Indeed, the Radak, in presenting his
explanation of the rainbow's role, speaks of it as a reminder to benei adam ("people") generally, and not to any
particular group of people. Why
does Seforno view the rainbow as a sign specifically to the spiritual
leaders? Aren't all men capable of
beholding the rainbow and heeding the warning it conveys?
Seforno's comment perhaps alludes to a basic point of distinction between
the tzadikim and the common man, namely, the ability to
look beyond superficial appearances.
The rainbow is indeed readily viewable by all mankind, but to most people
it appears as a serene, tranquil sight heralding the end of a harsh storm. It takes a certain degree of depth and
insight to look beyond the external manifestation of the rainbow, the majestic
array of colors and their calming, soothing effect as they stretch across the
sky, and to recognize the harsh reality of divine wrath which the rainbow
represents. While on the surface
the rainbow brings a feeling of serenity and peacefulness, it in truth
according to Seforno conveys a harsh warning and forebodes potential
calamity.
This contrast between external appearance and actual essence indeed
characterizes, at least to some extent, the difference between piety and
vanity. The "tzadikei ha-dor," as Seforno describes them, are not misled
by the appealing exterior of otherwise vacuous pursuits or ideas; they look
beyond the "gift wrap" and assess the essential nature of what they see around
them. What appears superficially as
something valuable or beautiful might in fact be something worthless or
harmful. The message of the
rainbow, perhaps, is that we must train ourselves to look beyond external
appearances and not be deceived into affording importance and value to that
which is in truth empty and vain.
*******
The Ramban, in his commentary to Parashat Noach (6:19), addresses the
obvious question of how the ark constructed by Noach could possibly have
accommodated a pair of every species of animal on earth. The ark was indeed quite large, but
certainly not large enough to house two of every species, particularly given
that many animals are themselves very large. The Ramban writes that undoubtedly the
animal kingdom's refuge in the ark was of a miraculous nature; a pair of every
species fit inside the ark in defiance of the laws of physics, in order to
ensure the survival of all creatures on earth.
Of course, this conclusion raises the question of why an ark was
necessary in the first place. Or,
at very least, as the Ramban asks, God should perhaps have instructed Noach to
construct a small-sized vessel so as to maximize the great miracle of the
animals' salvation. Why was Noach
ordered to build an enormous ark, if it in any event would be unable to
accommodate every species without a miracle? The Ramban initially suggests that this
project was perhaps intended as a means of drawing the people's attention to the
ark, which could potentially have had the effect of inspiring the generation to
repent. Alternatively, the Ramban
writes, God's command concerning the ark reflects His general tendency to
minimize supernatural phenomena, to perform miracles through only minor
deviations from the natural order.
God ordered Noach to construct a large ship so as to limit the extent to
which the animals would require a miracle to find space on the
ark.
Rav Chayim Elazary, in his work Shevilei Chayim (Canton, 1947), offers a beautiful insight
to enhance our appreciation of the precise role of the ark and to explain why
God chose specifically this means of rescuing Noach and the animal kingdom. Ever since the second generation
of mankind Kayin and Hevel relations among people have been characterized by
envy, greed and violence. As Rashi
(6:13) famously cites from the Gemara (Sanhedrin 108a), the sentence against the
generation of the flood was issued specifically on account of chamas violent theft. The ongoing prevalence of thievery and
violent struggle between individuals and clans, which began already in the
earliest chapters of human history, could lead one to believe that such is the
inescapable lot of mankind, that people like animals will forever be engaged
in incessant and bitter conflict.
To dispel this disheartening notion, God saw to it that for the year of
the deluge, representatives from all the earth's creatures will live together in
perfect peace and harmony (or at least near-perfect harmony, according to the
famous Midrashic passage of the lion that
bit Noach's hand). As He
flooded the earth, God also sowed the seeds of its reconstruction by
demonstrating the ability of people and even animals to live together amicably
in the cramped, crowded confines of an ark. This arrangement served as a precedent
to the possibility of peaceful relations among people and even between man and
beast. It proved that the world is
not necessarily condemned to a state of chamas; violence and conflict are not essential
ingredients of the human condition.
Just as all creatures on the ark lived together harmoniously, so is it
possible for mankind to lead a peaceful life and build and cultivate the earth
with mutual respect and cooperation.
******
In among the more famous passages in his Torah commentary, Rashi notes a subtle discrepancy between the Torah's descriptions of Noach in two different contexts in the flood narrative. The opening verse of the parasha introduces the protagonist with the adjectives tzadik ("righteous") and tamim ("flawless" or "innocent"), whereas later, when God commands Noach to enter the ark, He declares, "for I have seen that you are righteous before Me in this generation" (7:1). God here describes Noach only as a tzadik, omitting the second adjective tamim. Rashi cites the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 32:3) as inferring from this omission that "omerim miktzat shevacho shel adam be-fanav ve-khulo she-lo be-fanav" "one speaks partial praise of a person in his presence, and all [his praise] while not in his presence." The Biblical narrative gives Noach the full praise he deserved tzadik and tamim but when God speaks to Noach, He compliments him only partially.
A person's natural tendency is to do just the opposite to shower his peer with praise and accolades in his presence, and to speak negatively and critically about him in his absence. When the person is present, one will make flattering and complimentary remarks in order to win his favor; "behind his back," however, people often enjoy sharing degrading information and critical judgments.
Chazal here teach that a true friend speaks only miktzat shevacho partial praise in his presence, and kol shevacho full praise when speaking to others. While compliments are certainly important as a means of offering encouragement and engendering cordial relations, elaborating on a person's fine qualities in his presence smacks of flattery and insincere adulation. Often, elaborate praise is spoken in a person's presence in an attempt to win his friendship, consent or support; it serves not as a sincere expression of friendship, but rather to further the speaker's personal goals and ambitions. A true friend speaks kol shevacho, presents a full, comprehensive account of his peer's admirable qualities, specifically around other people in order to enhance the peer's reputation and help ensure he is properly respected. Whereas in the presence of one's friend kol shevacho is often a means of disingenuous cajoling, in the presence of others kol shevacho is a means of helping the friend earn the credit and recognition he deserves.
******
A famous passage in the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 31:3) draws a contrast between Noach and Avraham. Noach, the Midrash comments, is first described as an ish tzadik, a "righteous man" (6:9), and then later in life is referred to as an ish ha-adama "a man of the land" (9:20). Noach's "regression" stands in direct contrast to the progression of Moshe, who early in life is called an ish Mitzri ("Egyptian man" Shemot 2:19)) and then later an ish ha-Elokim ("man of God" Devarim 33:1).
This comment by the Midrash clearly works off the assumption that the reference to Noach as an ish ha-adama is a derogatory one, or at least non-complimentary. That Noach earns such a description after having been praised as an ish tzadik is seen by Chazal as expressing a certain demotion in stature. The question arises, how precisely did the Sages understand the term ish ha-adama, and why does it reflect negatively on Noach's character at this point in his life?
The Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Aharon Lichtenstein shlit"a (www.etzion.org.il/vbm/archive/7-sichot/01noach.rtf), explains that Chazal took note of the fact that the Torah chose not to describe Noach as simply an oved ha-adama "one who works the land." This description of Noach's choice of profession agriculture would assuredly not have invited any criticism on the part of the Midrash. The Gemara (Sanhedrin 58b) in fact remarks that "if a person makes himself like a servant to the ground he will be satiated with bread; otherwise, he will not be satiated with bread." Chazal in a number of contexts emphasize the importance of work and industry and would never have criticized Noach for tilling the land, or viewed such activity as a "fall" from the stature of ish tzadik. However, the Sages insightfully noted that the Torah does not speak of Noach as simply a "worker of the land"; he had rather become an ish ha-adama, a "man of the land." Noach was consumed by his profession to the point where it became part of his very definition, his essential character. Whereas earlier he had been defined primarily in terms of tzidkut, piety and spiritual devotion, at this point he was defined by his work in the field, by the seeds he sowed and the fruits he harvested.
It is in this sense that the Midrash contrasts Noach with Moshe. Moshe was raised as an ish Mitzri, an Egyptian prince, in the capacity of which he was assigned numerous administrative duties. Yet, he managed to live a life characterized by the service of God, and thus he retained his essential definition of ish Elokim. The Midrash thus teaches that regardless of what profession a person pursues or how far he advances in his career, he must always remain an ish ha-Elokim, and always see himself as, first and foremost, a loyal and devoted servant of the Almighty.
In this context the Midrash also comments, "There were three [men] who
were emphatically drawn towards the land [=agriculture], but no benefit could be
found in them. They are: Kayin,
Noach and Uziyahu." Interestingly,
the downfalls of these three men, all of whom shared a passion for agriculture,
occurred in three different areas.
Kayin's failure was irrepressible envy, Noach indulged in wine, and
Uziyahu grew arrogant, to the point where he insisted on performing the priestly
duties in the
It was admirable for Noach to immediately pick up the plowshares and
begin cultivating the earth upon exiting the ark. His mission was, indeed, to spearhead
the process of the world's reconstruction.
Noach is criticized, however, for allowing this process to consume his
life and his being to the point where he became essentially an ish
ha-adama, rather than an ish
tzadik or ish ha-Elokim.