The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

by Rav David Silverberg

Parashat Noach recounts the deluge and its aftermath. Recall that after the flood, Noach became intoxicated and exposed himself, at which point two of his three sons, Shem and Yefet, respectfully clothed their father to save him from further embarrassment. Rashi (9:23) writes that Shem "exhibited particular zeal for the mitzva," and therefore his descendants earned a special mitzva related to clothing - tzitzit.

The use of the word "mitzva " in this context suggests that the formal mitzva of "kibbud av v'em" - honoring one's parents - applied to Shem and Yefet, despite their not having been considered Jews. A similar implication arises from the story in Masekhet Kiddushin (31a) of the gentile Dama Ben Netina, who received immense reward for his diligent observance of this mitzva . Furthermore, the Rambam (Hilkhot Mamrim 5:11) writes that although a convert to Judaism loses all former familial relationships, he may nevertheless not smite, curse, or insult his parents. Such conduct would lead outsiders to scorn Judaism, observing that this individual previously afforded honor to his parents and suddenly, upon his acceptance of Judaism, does not. Clearly, this reasoning assumes that gentiles must honor their parents.

The obvious question, of course, is why this obligation did not make its way into the list of "mitzvot bnei Noach" ("Noachide Laws"), those mitzvot applicable to Jews and non-Jews alike.

Rav Moshe Feinstein (Iggerot Moshe 2:130) answers that, in fact, gentiles are not obligated in the formal mitzva of honoring parents that applies to the Jewish people. They are, however, obligated in the fundamental precept of "hakarat hatov" - showing gratitude, a universal value. Needless to say, anyone with a sense of appreciation for kindness bestowed upon him would display a considerable level of respect towards his parents, who gave him his life and went through the trouble of rearing him. Therefore, although the specific laws of "kibbud av v'em" do not apply to non-Jews, they must nevertheless honor their parents whereas they are included in the universal obligation of showing gratitude.

(Taken from Rav Binyamin Tabory's column, "Hamitzva Baparasha" in Shabbat B'Shabbato, Parashat Noach 5760.)

An interesting passage in Midrash Rabbah draws a contrast between Noach and Moshe:

What does this mean? How do the different descriptions of these two men reflect who is "more beloved"?

Clearly, the significant point here relates to sequence. Moshe is considered more beloved because he emerged as a spiritual giant from humble beginnings, having been raised as an Egyptian. Noach, by contrast, underwent the reverse process. He began as a righteous man, but then became a drunkard.

Yet, this passage still strikes us as troubling. Is this the only basis for Moshe's superiority over Noach? Didn't we only recently - on Simchat Torah - read the concluding verses of the Torah which speak of Moshe's prophetic stature that exceeded that of any other prophet? Wasn't Moshe allowed the closest glimpse of the divine essence available to a human being? If he had not begun as an Egyptian, he would not be considered greater than Noach?!

Perhaps the clue lies is the Midrash's usage of the word, "chaviv" - beloved. Certainly, Moshe attained a greater level of wisdom and piety than Noach. However, whether one is "beloved" in the eyes of the Almighty depends not on his objectively defined level, but rather on his direction. When it comes to avodat Hashem, where one is headed is far more critical than where he is. Many qualities and characteristic rendered Moshe "great." But he became "beloved" specifically through his commitment to ongoing spiritual growth. He never allowed himself to regress; he applied himself diligently to climbing the ladder from "an Egyptian man" to "a man of God." Noach, by contrast, went through a process of regression, from a "righteous man" to a "man of the land."

Once again, a brief, somewhat innocuous passage in the Midrash reveals a critical theological message. God does not expect us to become infallible tzadikim overnight. He demands, however, that we constantly seek to improve. This is how we become beloved in His eyes.

As the floodwaters begin to subside, Noach sends the raven to check if living on the land has become once again viable (Bereishit 8:7). The Midrash relates a curious dialogue between Noach and the raven. The latter expressed its objection to having been selected for this mission over all the other creatures in the ark. Noach explained his reasoning to the raven: "What does the world need you for? You are neither edible nor fit to be offered as a sacrifice." God then reprimanded Noach for his insulting comments to the raven. He noted that one day a drought will ravage the Land of Israel, and the raven will bring food for Eliyahu Hanavi to help him survive the famine. (See Melakhim I 17:6).

What is this Midrash talking about?

One explanation offered takes a closer look at why God sent specifically the ravens to sustain Eliyahu during the drought. The Gemara in Masekhet Pesachim (113b) lists the raven as one of only three creatures that gets along with those of its same species. Whereas human beings and other creatures compete with those of their own kind, the ravens exhibit love and concern for one another. They therefore came to teach Eliyahu Hanavi a critical lesson. Eliyahu had decreed the drought during the time of the wicked king Achav, since he thought the generation to be worthless. After all, the people of his time had adopted idolatry. The ravens reminded Eliyahu of Noach's error in denying them any worth. In truth, they possess a quality whose importance may never be undermined: unity. Similarly, the generation of Achav worked together in love and harmony (Yerushalmi Pei'a 1:1). Although this quality does not excuse their pagan worship, it does afford the people of Achav's time a significant stature. This is the message of the ravens' bringing food to Eliyahu: Jewish unity sustained the generation of Achav by rendering them, at least in one sense, meritorious.

This serves an as a most appropriate message for Noach, as well. Chazal comment that God issued the destruction decree against Noach's generation specifically on account of the sin of theft. God therefore tells Noach, who bears the responsibility of starting the world anew, that friendship and harmony among people takes top priority. Even if the raven is inedible and unsuitable as a sacrifice, its kindness towards its peers renders it inherently valuable. So long as people work together kindly, mankind can continue to exist peacefully.

When telling of the onset of the deluge, the verse in Parashat Noach states, "Noach, with sons, his wife, and his sons' wives, went into the ark because of the waters of the flood" (7:7). Rashi takes note of the fact that Noach and his family entered the ark specifically "because of the waters of the flood," implying that they waited until the floodwaters forced them to seek refuge in the ark. Rashi thus comments, "Even Noach lacked faith - he believed but didn't believe that the flood would come, and he didn't enter the ark until the waters compelled him [to do so]."

Now the Midrash describes the enormity of the task of constructing the ark. Besides the physical labor involved, Noach was subject to constant taunting on the part of his contemporaries who jeered at the notion of a devastating flood. If Noach had any doubt about the truth of the prophecy, would he have undertaken such a formidable project?

A closer reading of Rashi's comments may reveal that this is preciselywhat he had in mind: "EVEN Noach lacked faith…" The straightforward reading would interpret this expression to mean that even the righteous Noach possessed incomplete faith. However, we may also read this passage to mean, even Noach, who invested so much time and effort into this ark, was less than convinced that the flood would actually occur. But why?

Perhaps from here we can get a glimpse into human nature, especially in the context of religious observance. Very often we work very hard on the specifics but lose sight of the general ideal behind the details. There are so many examples of this phenomenon from contemporary Jewish life: those who devote hours of volunteer service for their synagogues but fail to attend services, or attend and do more talking than worshipping; those who work extended hours in order to afford religious education for their children, but concentrate more on the children's acceptance to the Ivy-league rather than their religious growth; men who will not step into a synagogue whose "mechitza" is shorter than 8 feet tall, but watch any movie or TV program regardless of its inappropriate content; people who donate hard-earned money to "chesed" organizations but do not treat their spouses properly; those who turn their kitchens upside-down for Pesach but spend the seder talking about sports and the latest gossip. And so on and so forth.

With this in mind, we can perhaps better understand Noach. He devotedly applied himself to the construction of the ark, but he lost sight of the purpose for which God had issued this command: to save him from the flood. When the time came, Noach was caught off guard. He hadn’t driven home the idea in his mind that God will punish the world and he must spend a year in an ark with the animals. Only when he and his family faced no other alternative did they enter the ark.

Yesterday, we looked at Rashi's comment (from the Midrash) that Noach did not enter the ark until the floodwaters forced him to seek refuge. Rashi says that Noach was "lacking of faith, he believed but did not believe that the flood would arrive." We suggested that although Noach invested a lot of effort into the construction of the ark, he lost sight of the overall purpose of this project.

The Steipler Gaon zt"l is cited as focusing on the expression "ma'amin v'eino ma'amin" - believed but did not believe. The Steipler distinguishes between cognizance and internal feeling. Noach firmly believed God's promise of a flood, but he did not live with a sense of impending danger the way he did once the waters began to rise.

This distinction between cognitive awareness and an existential sensation brings to mind the foundations of the "mussar" movement as developed by Rav Yisrael Salanter zt"l. His primary disciple, Rav Yitzchak Blazer, wrote an introduction to Rav Yisrael's work, "Or Yisrael," in which Rav Yitzchak presents the underpinnings of the movement. He observes that even people who firmly believe in the doctrine of reward and punishment commit intentional sins. Yet, people believe that jumping off a cliff will result in death and therefore take precautions to avoid the cliff. He explains that God created the human psyche in such a way that the dangers of sin, as dictated by the concept of reward and punishment, do not frighten people with the same sense of urgency as immediate physical danger. The study of "mussar" seeks to develop a more intense cognizance of the real dangers of sin. Indeed, on his deathbed Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakai blessed his students that they should fear Heaven with the same intensity as they fear other people (Berakhot 28b).

Already the Radak expressed his astonishment at the notion that Noach had his doubts about the flood. Could an individual described by the Torah as a "tzadik tamim" (righteous and wholehearted) possibly doubt the word of God? To be sure, this question will continue to haunt us. But in any event, this Midrash of Noach's shortcoming perhaps calls our attention to Rabbi Yochanan's parting words: "May the fear of Heaven be upon you like the fear of human beings."

The last two S.A.L.T.'s addressed the passage in the Midrash accusing Noach of imperfect faith. Noting the verse's implication that Noach did not enter the ark until the floodwaters compelled him to, the Midrash concludes that Noach did not fully believe that the flood would in fact arrive.

Rav Moshe Feinstein zt"l questions the Midrash's right to make such a derivation from this verse. Couldn't Noach have retained unblemished faith, but nevertheless decided to continue living normally until forced otherwise? Why did his refusal to enter the ark earlier signify a lack of faith?

Rav Moshe therefore suggests that Noach's shortcoming in this regard did not involve faith, but rather enthusiasm. God had commanded Noach to enter the ark, but he waited until the water level rose. Were Noach to have harbored genuine love for God's command, his entry into the ark would have occurred immediately upon hearing the divine word.

It's unclear whether Rav Moshe intended his approach as an alternate reading of the Midrash, or independent thereof. If he did mean to reread the Midrash, then we are forced to clarify the term "emuna" (faith) in this context. Chazal perhaps refer here not to faith per se, but rather to the commitment that evolves naturally from faith. Noach believed that the flood would unfold and prepared himself adequately. However, he did not view the construction of, and entry into, the ark as a divine obligation, but rather as a practical measure to avoid drowning. He seems to have viewed God's instructions as merely the means to an end, rather than an ultimate goal unto itself. This Midrash thus teaches us a critical lesson about our attitude towards mitzvot. While we are bidden to search for the meaning and significance underlying God's commandments, we may never strip them of their inherent importance by very virtue of their having been issued by the Almighty. No matter what reason lies behind any given mitzva, our primary responsibility is to fulfill our obligations in precise accordance with the detailed laws relevant thereto.

Earlier this week we noted Rashi's comment from the Midrash distinguishing between Shem's involvement in covering his father's nakedness, and that of his brother, Yefet. The Midrash explains that Shem exhibited particular zeal for the sake of this mitzva, and therefore rendered his descendants worthy of receiving the mitzva of tzitzit. At first glance, the connection between the mitzva of tzitzit and Shem's rescue of Noach from shame is a somewhat coincidental one: they both involve clothing. Upon further reflection, however, it seems that Shem's reward should bear some resemblance not only to the specific act of covering his father, but to the extra effort he invested therein. After all, specifically on account of his unique enthusiasm did he earn the mitzva of tzitzit.

One suggestion offered bases itself on the Netziv's analysis of this Midrash (which happens to relate to yesterday's S.A.L.T.). The Netziv notes that the Midrash does not laud Shem's enthusiasm for the action itself, but rather commends Shem for "exhibiting zeal for the mitzva." Whereas Yefet's involvement emerged from a natural drive to assist his father, Shem felt a particularly acute sense of obligation because of the mitzva at hand. (The precise halakhic definition of this obligation was discussed earlier this week.) Shem's motivation was not only ethical, but religious, or theological, a drive that led him to execute his responsibility with an extra level of devotion. It stands to reason that were the task at hand to have required the efforts of only a single individual, Yefet would have considered stepping aside, so long as his father was covered. Shem, by contrast, jumped at the opportunity to perform the mitzva. He longed to take part, and would have done so even if his contribution to the effort was unnecessary.

Herein lies the connection to tzitzit. Generally speaking, one need not wear tzitzit; the obligation applies only in situations when owears a four-cornered garment. Yet, Am Yisrael has collectively accepted upon itself to make a point of wearing such a garment in order to obligate ourselves in this mitzva. Historically, then, the mitzva of tzitzit best captures the ideal of enthusiasm for mitzvot. It embodies our devotion to mitzvot that exceeds the mere sense of responsibility. We seek to not only perform mitzvot, but to love performing mitzvot.

This is the legacy we have received from our ancestor, Shem.

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