Listen to tonight's class, "R. Shimon bar Yohai & Life After Eden," here.
Follow along with the sources here.
Showing posts with label Noah. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Noah. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 19, 2021
Friday, May 22, 2020
Yom Yerushalayim: Diversity & Unity
Diversity & Unity
Thoughts on Yom Yerushalayim 2020
Click here to view as PDF
“Pray for
Jerusalem’s peace; May your lovers rest tranquil!” (Tehilim 122:6) King David’s
mention of peace and tranquility with regards to Jerusalem is
telling. Jerusalem transcends its mere confines of place and location. It
represents harmony and agreement. The Hakhamim thus refer
to Jerusalem as “the city which makes all of Israel friends.”[1]
It is the city of unity.
Consider, for a
moment, the scene in Jerusalem on the three regalim. Throughout the days
of Pesah, Shavuot and Sukkot, the streets and alleys of the city were filled
with the many people of Am Yisrael. Men and women of all stripes and
colors gathered in Jerusalem to celebrate the holidays together.
Focusing on Am
Yisrael’s unity is perhaps most appropriate at this time of the
year, in our preparation for Shavuot. The Hakhamim envisioned the
nation’s unity as the prerequisite to receiving the Torah. Am Yisrael’s
encampment “as one person, with one heart” demonstrated their readiness for
the Torah.[2]
But is unity actually
a virtue? Consider the Torah’s description of the time in history when
humanity was completely unified:
And
all the earth was one language, one set of words. (Bereshit 11:1)
It would appear, at
first glance, as if things couldn’t get better than that state of unity! And
yet, that time is forever remembered as a period of utter destruction. It began
the episode known to us now as Migdal Bavel:
And
they said, “Come, let us build us a city and a tower with its top in the
heavens, that we may make us a name, lest we be scattered over all the earth.” (Bereshit 11:4)
Surprisingly, the
people’s unity drove them away from growth, leading them instead to an
attempted rebellion against God. “With everyone given over to the one common
way, there would be mass identity and mass consciousness,” Leon Kass wrote,
“but no private identity or true self-consciousness; there would be
shoulder-shoulder but no real face-to-face.”[3]
In the absence of conflicting thoughts and opinions, without disagreements, the
people couldn’t discover the error in their ways.
Think about how
this reality rings true in your own life. We dread the discomfort of being confronted
by a friend or peer regarding a mistaken thought or character flaw. But how
could we develop without ever being challenged? Our decisions would be
determined solely by our own thoughts and feelings! And there would be
little or no room for change. We could never grow.
And
God said, “As one people with one language for all, if this is what they have
begun to do, now nothing they plot to do will elude them. Come, lets us go down
and baffle their language there so that they will not understand each other’s
language.” (Bereshit
11:6-7)
God secured the
future of humanity by dividing them! “Discovering the partiality of
one’s own truths and standards invites the active search for truths and
standards beyond one’s making,” Leon Kass wrote, “Opposition is the key to the
discovery of the distinction between error and truth…between that which is
appears to be and that which truly is.”[4]
Is Jerusalem’s
feature of “unity,” then, a matter to rejoice about? Perhaps, instead, it is a
dangerous aspect to avoid at all costs!
I believe that the
nature of Jerusalem’s particular “unity” is fundamentally different than that
of Migdal Bavel.
The Rabbis taught
that “Jerusalem wasn’t divided amongst the tribes.”[5]
Whereas the Land of Israel was generally zoned according to the twelve shevatim,
Jerusalem was left open to all. The concept of this structure seems to be an
embrace of diversity – through the division of the larger country, while
at once maintaining a particular unity at the center – in the undivided
city of Jerusalem.
Indeed, R. Yisshak
Hutner z”l pointed out that God demonstrated two divergent realities when
He began humanity with a single person. On the one hand, it reflected a particular
unity. Humankind’s shared ancestry means that we are all related to one
another. On the other hand, however, that single starting point highlighted the
spark of individuality inherent in each of us. The life of every
person is significant, irrespective of their society or community.[6]
Human existence, then, was born with a dichotomy which equally stresses the
equal importance of unity and diversity.
Consider the
structure of most successful organizations. The general direction and mission are
clearly stated. Everyone must agree to work in unison toward their realization.
That is Jerusalem. But the particular method or approach to reaching
that end is open to different vantage points and expressions. There are, for
that reason, separate departments and specific committees. That is the
surrounding Land of Israel.
Jerusalem, “the
city of peace and tranquility,” calls our attention to national unity. It
reminds us that although our growth is owed to an embrace of diversity, we
remain unified in purpose. Rising above all conflict and disagreement, the city
of Jerusalem is a constant reminder that “all of Israel is friends.”
Sunday, November 3, 2019
Parashat Noah: Separation & Unity
Separation & Unity
Thoughts on Parashat Noah 2019
Click here to view as PDF
The Torah described Noah’s
actions upon descending from the ark:
And Noah
built an altar to God and he took from every clean cattle and every clean fowl
and offered burnt offerings on the altar. (Bereshit 8:20)
And God’s response:
And God
smelled the fragrant odor (re’ah
ha-nihoah) and God said in His heart: “I will not again damn the soil on
humankinds score…And I will not again strike down all living things as I did. (8:21)
God’s determination appears
to be inspired by Noah’s korbanot. His decision to spare the future of
humankind and all living things wasn’t decided by the sheer devastation of the
flood, but by Noah’s sacrifices. What was the significance of those korbanot?
“Creation is the making of
separated things,” stated the political philosopher Leo Strauss, upon counting
five explicit and ten implicit mentions of havdalah – “separation” – in
the first chapter of Bereshit.[1]
Indeed, Ramban interpreted the Torah’s first pasuk, “At the beginning
God created the heavens and the earth,” as a reference to God’s initial
creation of a single entity of formless matter.[2] God’s subsequent actions during the six days
of creation, then, gave form to that matter through a series of deliberate acts
of separation.
Consider God’s initial
actions in Creation: Light was separated from darkness (1:3-4), the “upper and
lower waters” were separated from one another (6-7), land and water were
separated (9-10), and the heavenly bodies were purposed to separate between day
and night (14-18). Leon Kass thus summarized: “Creation is the bringing of
order out of chaos largely through acts of separation, division, distinction.”[3]
Why did God bring
forth all of these separations? To create a habitable space for humankind.
After all, a world of absolute darkness and water leaves no place for man. It
is through the space that was created “in between” – the rays of light, air
space and land – that we find our place in this world.
But what is the
role of humankind in this “separated space”? I believe, perhaps paradoxically,
that it is to seek a reunification.
Consider the fact that our very creation began in a state of unity
between “upper” and “lower” realms of existence – crafted from “the dust of the
earth,” God breathed into Adam the “breath of life” (2:7).[4]
The Hakhamim similarly suggested that the “mist” which “ascended from
the earth” (2:6) immediately prior to his creation was from the clouds and was
purposed to “saturate the soil” from which he was created.[5] It
was the water of the “upper worlds,” then, that mixed with the “lower world”
soil to create a human being.[6]
Indeed, immediately after
Hava’s separation from Adam – “And God built the rib He had taken from
Adam into a woman” (2:22), she was led to a natural unity with him –
“Therefore does man leave his father and his mother and cling to his wife and
they become one flesh” (2:24). The Hakhamim furthermore pointed to
humankind’s task to seek unity in existence in their explanation of a
rather cryptic pasuk, “For God had not sent rain upon the earth and
there was no man to work the soil.” Rashi explained:
And what is the reason that “He had not sent rain?” Because “there
was no man to work the soil”…When Adam came and realized that they are a
necessity for the world, he prayed for them and they came down, and the trees
and types of vegetation sprouted.[7]
God withheld the downpouring
of the “upper world” rains until the creation of a human being. It was the
human’s destiny to establish a unity between his “lower” world and that of above.
But the flood of Parashat
Noah effectively “turned back the clock” of creation, rendering the world
uninhabitable by collapsing the natural separation onto itself. The “upper” and
“lower” waters crashed again into one another – “The springs of the great deep
were split open and the storehouses of the heavens opened up” (6:11), and the
waters covered the mountains (7:19), as an effective “un-creation” took place
in a world of “chaotic unity.”[8]
Noah’s subsequent emergence from the ark into a “recreated” world of
separation, then, renewed humanity’s mission of unity.
And Noah
built an altar to God and he took from every clean cattle and every clean fowl
and offered burnt offerings on the altar. (8:20)
R. Ezra Bick commented, in a
different context: “If sacrificing an animal is characterized as turning the
flesh into smoke, the inner meaning of this action is turning the physical into
the spiritual…the korban creates an actual metaphysical link by bridging
the gap, by turning the physical into the spiritual.”[9]
Noah’s decision to bring forth a korban at that time touched on the very
core of his existential mission. The divinely “fragrant odor” produced by his
sacrifice represented the necessary bridge between the material flesh of this
world with the spiritual essence of the world above. It was his immediate step
in the appropriate direction of unity – his ultimate destiny – that
inspired God’s will to secure the future of humankind and all living beings.
The call to unify
cries out to us on a constant basis in our own lives of compartmentalization. And
it is only realized when we successfully overlap the ideals of the various
realms of our lives. We are commanded, for example, to extend the time of kedushah
at the synagogue to our everyday activities. The commitment to truth and
honesty in our households must likewise be matched in our dealings at the
workplace. And a strict adherence to halakhah may not be reserved for
specific times or places, but rather exist as a part of our very identity. Unity
is found when we infuse the seemingly disparate domains of our lives with the
common essence of sanctity and truth.
[1] Leo Strauss, On the Interpretation of Genesis, L’Homme 1981 (21:1), pg. 9.
[2] Commentary of Ramban to
Bereshit 1:1 (s.v. bereshit).
[3] Leon Kass, The Beginning of
Wisdom: Reading Genesis (Chicago, IL, 2006), pg. 32.
[4] See Bereshit Rabah
12.8. See, as well, R. Hayim of Volozhin’s Nefesh HaHayim 1.5 (s.v.
hagah).
[5] Commentary of Rashi ad.
loc., s.v. ve-ed.
[6] As noted by R. Moshe Shapira, Afikei
Mayim: Sukkot ed. R. Reuven M. Shmeltzer (Jerusalem, IS, 2012), pg. 243.
[7] Commentary of Rashi to
Bereshit 2:5 s.v. ki.
[8] The Hakhamim likewise
deduced that over the course of the flood there was no distinction between day
and night (Commentary of Rashi to Bereshit 8:22, s.v. ve-yom).
[9] R. Ezra Bick, “The
Significance of Haktarah,” Torah MiEtzion: VaYikra (New Milford,
CT, 2014), pg. 32-33.
Tuesday, October 29, 2019
Monday, October 28, 2019
Friday, October 12, 2018
Parashat Noah: The Sound of Silence
The Sound of Silence
Thoughts on Noah 2018
Click here to view as PDF
Setting out to
restart humanity after the flood, Noah encountered an unfamiliar world. The
world he had previously known was created by God’s words and continuously sustained
by His direct speech to mankind. But Noah no longer heard that voice. And as he
searched for direction in an empty land, God’s explicit advice – which had once
guided his every decision – was gone.
And Noah, a man of the soil,
was the first to plant a vineyard. And he drank of the wine and became drunk,
and exposed himself within his tent.
(Bereshit
9:20-1)
In his sad state of
confusion, Noah drank himself to self-exposure. The lack of clarity which
defined his new situation – a reality so familiar to us all – was unbearable
for him.
David Gelernter
commented on our own difficulty at discerning God’s true will in a world marked
by His silence. He wrote:
That still, small voice you hear: is it the
genuine voice of God, or merely the human stirrings of your all-too-human mind?
The image you have arrived at: is it a sign (like the burning bush) of God’s
presence? Or only a strange dream?[1]
Indeed, most of our
spiritual struggles stem from that perplexing “silence” of the world we
inhabit. Our lives are overcome by stress and anxiety on a continuous search
upon roads that are not clearly marked. They resemble Noah’s challenge after
the flood. How can we succeed?
In the opening
passage to his Mishneh Torah, HaRambam famously described the
fundamental missvah of “yediat HaShem” – knowledge of God. In
contrast to the opinion of other Jewish theologians who stressed “emunah
be-HaShem” – belief in God, HaRambam never mentions that concept.[2]
The classical explanation for his omission is that HaRambam found emunah
to be superficial and incomplete. He posited that the simple acceptance of God
forms a much weaker connection than actual knowledge of Him. Some scholars have
argued, however, for an alternate definition of emunah. They render it
inseparable from knowledge in our connection to Him. Referring to a person as ne-eman
– from the same root as emunah, for example, implies not a blind
faith in the individual but rather a strength of connection – a reliability.[3]
Emunah, then, is an integral component of our relationship with God.
Although the foundations of that bond are built upon knowledge, their stability
draws from emunah. During those all-too-familiar “Noah moments” of
silence and vulnerability in our lives, we must turn to emunah in order
to sustain the strong base of knowledge that we have built.
Our spiritual
ambitions in this life of silence, however, must stretch beyond the realm of
mere prevention. Philosopher Erling Kagge articulated the depth inherent in the
silence of our relationships. He wrote: “Without the tenderness that can follow
peace and quiet, it is difficult to sense the nuances in a loving relationship,
to understand one another.”[4]
Indeed, speech is often used as a defense mechanism to avoid the various truths
of a relationship. It is the piercing “sound of silence” that exposes all that
really exists between one and another. It strengthens our general consciousness
and draws out levels of perception and understanding that are often overlooked
in a world of constant speech.
I distinctly remember
the time that I visited an elderly talmid hakham at his home in the
Bronx where he was sitting shivah for his wife. Stepping into his modest
living room, I was immediately overcome by the quiet that pervaded. I found my
seat amongst the many guests in the room and stared awkwardly at the man in
utter silence for a full half hour. As I left the home, however, I realized
that by simply observing the facial expressions and demeanor of the mourner I
had learned more about his wife’s impact upon his life than any words may have
expressed.
Faced by the
daunting challenge of silence after the flood, Noah’s feelings of insecurity
drove him to the embarrassing state of drunkenness. That same world of quiet
which he encountered, however, is the one we continue to inhabit. Drawing
strength from emunah during our most difficult moments, those enigmatic
“sounds of silence” in our relationship with God are the ironic bearers of potential
growth.
[1] David Gelernter, Judaism: A
Way of Being (Grand Rapids, MI, 2009) pg. 164.
[2] Hilkhot Yesodei HaTorah 1:1.
[3] See R. Moshe Shapiro z”l’s
discussion of this concept in Re’eh Ne-eman (Jerusalem, IS, 2009), pg.
19-27. See, as well, R. Avraham Baum’s Et La’asot to Derekh HaShem
(Jerusalem, IS), pg. 32-4.
[4] Erling Kagge, Silence In the
Age of Noise (New York, NY, 2017), pg. 120.
Tuesday, October 9, 2018
Monday, October 8, 2018
Noah: The Real & The Ideal
The Real & The Ideal
Thoughts on Noah 2016
Click here to view as PDF
God blessed Noah and his
sons shortly after they emerged from the ark, instructing them to “Be fruitful
and multiply” (9:1). The initial words of this blessing are eerily reminiscent
of the identical statement issued by God to Adam and Hava immediately following
their creation (1:28). The story of Noah similarly concludes with a “Table of
Nations” (10:1-32), which is again reminiscent of the genealogical list that
follows the creation story (5:1-32). The vision of a “new creation,” crafted in
the image of an initially failed one, thus emerges at the end of Parashat
Noah.[1]
Carefully
examining the subsequent words of God’s respective blessings in each of these
instances, however, reveals that the two “creations” are not quite as similar
as perhaps expected. Consider the blessing to Adam and Hava: “Be fruitful and
multiply and fill the earth and conquer it, and hold sway over the fish of the
sea and the fowl of the heavens and every beast that crawls upon the earth”
(1:28), and that to Noah and his sons: “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the
earth. And the dread and fear of you shall be upon all the beasts of the field
and all the fowl of the heavens, in all that crawls on the ground and in all
the fish of the sea. In your hand they are given” (9:1-2). Whereas the “initial
creation” described man’s future conquest and dominion of the
world and its creatures, the “second creation” envisioned his intimidation of
them.
The
blessing to Adam and Hava continued: “Look, I have given you every seed-bearing
plant on the face of all the earth and every tree that has fruit bearing seed,
yours they will be for food. And to all the beasts of the earth and to all the
fowl of the heavens and to all that crawls on the earth, which has the breath
of life within it, the green plants for food” (1:29-30). Consider, again, the
contrast to Noah and his sons: “All stirring things that are alive, yours shall
be for food, like the green plants, I have given all to you” (9:3). Whereas
Adam and Hava joined the animal kingdom in their permitted consumption of the
land for nutrition, Noah and his sons were permitted consumption of the
animals for their sustenance.
Why
did God change His blessing and mission to man from the “first” to “second”
creation?
Noticing
this shift from the vegetarianism of Adam in Gan Eden to the permitted
consumption of animal meat of Noah after the flood, several medieval scholars
developed the notion of vegetarianism as a moral ideal. Their conception of
this ideal lay not in a concern of the welfare of animals, but in the potential
development of negative character traits (such as meanness and cruelty) latent
in their slaughter and consumption.[2]
R. Avraham Yitzhak Kook similarly viewed vegetarianism as an ideal, yet
cautioned against the adoption of vegetarianism as a norm of human conduct
prior to the coming of Mashiah. While the heightened moral awareness of
the messianic era will effectively return mankind to its original state in Gan
Eden and appropriately restore a vegetarian norm, Rav Kook argued against its
standard implementation during any prior period.[3]
We
might thus distinguish between the Torah’s depiction of the ideal in the
“initial creation,” and its recognition of and concession to reality in
the “second creation.” In the related words of Leon R. Kass: “The new world
order takes human beings as they are, not as they might be.”[4]
An ideal world commissions man with its peaceful conquest and dominion; a
realistic one acknowledges and accepts his intimidating force over nature.
Let
us now consider the final statements of God in His blessing to Noah: “And from
humankind, from every man’s brother, I will require human life. He who sheds
human blood by humans his blood shall be shed, for in the image of God He made
humankind” (9:5-6). God herein suggested a system of retributive justice: one
who causes another’s death shall be put to death. Why was this concept only introduced
now? Why weren’t Adam and Hava similarly warned and instructed following their
creation?
Commenting
on the sixth command that “You shall not murder,” the Zohar noted the
unique ta’amim (cantorial signs) of the Torah reading, and exegetically
suggested that the word “lo – you shall not” be conceptually separated
from the subsequent word, “tirsah – murder.” The Zohar thus comments, “Had the ta’am not
separated (between the two words) there would have been no remedy for the world,
for it would have been forbidden to put any soul to death – even one who
transgressed the Torah…”[5]
Though the Torah in many instances explicitly sanctions penalty by death for
various transgressions, this passage is perhaps hinting at an ideal existence
wherein causing another’s death would not exist under any circumstances. It is
an existence which must remain an abstract ideal, as the realistic existence of
civility in this world is dependent upon man’s fear of punishment for his
actions.[6]
The
death punishment for causing the death of another was thus inappropriate for
the “ideal vision” of the initial creation. It was instead introduced after the
creation and existence of the “real world” that followed the flood.
This
difference between Adam and Noah is perhaps hinted at by Rashi in two separate midrashic
statements that he mentioned in his commentary to the Torah. Defining the
rationale for Noah’s name, Rashi (5:29) cited from the Midrash: “Until
Noah appeared they did not have implements for plowing, and he devised such
implements for them.” Noah’s practical invention of the plow stands in stark
distinction to Adam’s method for growth of crops, as explained by Rashi: “When
Adam came and realized that they [the rain] are a necessity for the world, he
prayed for them and they came down and the trees and types of vegetation
sprouted.”[7]
Whereas Adam’s “ideal existence” sprouted seeds by means of prayer to God,
Noah’s “practical existence” necessitated the invention and usage of the plow.
The
Torah’s depiction of an “ideal creation” which could not be sustained remains
an aspiration. Similar to the prophets’ description of the days of Mashiah,
the initial creation reminds us of “what it ought to be like,” and sets an
appropriate goal for accomplishment. Steven Schwartzschild thus commented on yemot
ha-Mashiah: “When men ask themselves how to behave or, indeed, what the standards
are to be of their proper behavior, the Messianic end defines the means by
which that end can and is to be attained.”[8]
His comments ring equally true regarding our apprehension of the initial
creation era.
Though
our existence in this world is dictated by the realistic norms created in the
aftermath of the flood, we must nonetheless aspire for the realization of the ideals
reflected in the history of Gan Eden and the future of yemot ha-mashiah.
[1] See, e.g. Nahum M. Sarna,
Understanding Genesis (New York, 1966), pg. 56. This vision is further
sharpened by the recent scholarly demonstration of a consistent parallelism
between the flood narrative in Noah and that of creation in Bereshit.
See R. Yitzchak Etshalom’s Between the Lines of the Bible vol. I
(Jerusalem 2015), pg. 60-62, and R. David Forhman’s videos at:
www.alephbeta.org/course/view/noah-the-flood-and-the-rainbow.
[2] See Abarbanel to
Bereshit 9:3 and Yeshaya 11:7, and Sefer ha-Ikarim Part III, ch. 15.
[3] R. Avraham Yitzhak Kook, Hazon
ha-Zimhonut ve-ha-Shalom (Jerusalem, 2008). See, as well, the thorough
treatment of this topic in R. J. David Bleich’s Contemporary Halakhic
Problems vol. III (New York, 1989), “Vegetarianism and Judaism,” pg.
237-250.
[4] Leon R. Kass, The
Beginning of Wisdom (Chicago, 2003), pg. 174.
[5] Zohar vol. II,
93b, cited in R. Menahem M. Kasher’s Torah Shelemah vol. 14 (Jerusalem,
1992), pg. 103.
[6] This source and its
explanation was brought to my attention by R. David Eliach.
[7] Commentary to 2:5, based
on Hullin 60b.
[8] Steven Schwartzschild, The
Pursuit of the Ideal (New York, 1990), ed. Menachem Kellner, pg. 218.
Friday, October 20, 2017
Parashat Noah: Dialogue
Dialogue
A Message for Parashat Noah 2017
Forty years ago, renowned American psychologist Carl Rogers joined a few colleagues on a trip to Brazil, where they conducted several “large-group” workshops. The therapists took the risk of putting their trust in the wisdom and self-guided direction of the enormous gathering of diverse individuals. They were fascinated by what ensued.
Over the course of four sessions, nearly eight hundred people assembled together, without any formally structured agenda. The therapists and participants sat in a huge circle, as microphones were passed around for anyone who wished to speak. An air of tension filled the room. The widespread expressions of uncertainty and confusion were noticeable. Many who took the microphone demanded that Rogers lecture to them. Others asked him specific questions. He responded to all with silence.
A woman spoke up: “I came to listen to Rogers, not to listen to questions without answers. Let’s all leave.” A short while later, another woman responded: “Listen. I came here to give, not just to receive. I want to give something here.” And from the midst of those few hours of “controlled chaos,” an important lesson began to emerge. A man far back in the audience finally remarked: “It’s always like this. Everybody is expecting someone to come and tell us what to do. We are always eager to receive packaged knowledge. I think we should go back to ourselves and look within ourselves for the answers as to what we want to do.” As a similar sentiment was voiced by others, Rogers took hold of the microphone and remarked: “I’m not certain what is happening, but I do know that groups, when they realize they are free and autonomous, have enormous strength and force.”
Rogers later observed that the people initially hoped to avoid the uncomfortable feelings of confusion and chaos by demanding leadership. They desired “packaged knowledge,” structure, and imposed order. Most of all, they wanted to do something, anything, rather than continue with the anxiety created by “the unknown.” Sitting through the session, however, taught the group about the importance of hearing the “small voices” – the different and hesitant opinions of each member of the group. In the absence of a defined consequence, they discovered that outcome played a minimal role in their success, and became driven instead by the process. One of the staff members summarized the experience: “There is an order here. Not the order of rules and rigidity, but an order more like the dynamic organization in a living system…People are listening to each other, responding and taking time to be silent together.”[1]
Carl Rogers’s description of the lessons of “large-group workshops helped inform my understanding of a particularly cryptic episode in Parashat Noah:
And all the earth was one language, one set of words. And it happened as they journeyed from the east that they found a valley in the land of Shinar and settled there. And they said to each other, “Come, let us bake bricks and burn them hard.” … And they said, “Come, let us build us a city and a tower with its top in the heavens that we may make us a name, lest we be scattered over all the earth.” (Bereshit 11:1-4)
The backdrop of the episode of Migdal Bavel is painted by a general feeling of instability. The people feared being “scattered over all the earth,” and therefore began the “stabilizing” project of building a city and tower. Rather than “speaking with one another,” their plan was “said to each other.” The unsettling feeling of uncertainty had seized the people. It silenced all dialogue and unified their sights on a concrete “mission.”
Parallel to the defined lecture and instructions of Carl Rogers that was desired by the group during their early hours together, the people in this episode formed a mission to build a city and tower.
And God came down to see the city and the tower that the human creatures had built. And God said, “As one people with one language for all, if this is what they have begun to do, now nothing they plot to do will elude them. Come, let us go down and baffle their language there so that they will not understand each other’s language.” And God scattered them from there over all the earth and they left off building the city. (11:5-8)
Since foreign languages are only understood through sensitive listening, God forced the people to carefully listen to one another by baffling their languages. He caused the people to abandon their focus on the external outcome of a city and tower, and to instead search for order from within. Carl Rogers found this to be a fundamental lesson that was learned by the large-group sessions. He wrote, “The basis for values will be recognized within, rather than out in the material world,” and he stressed its importance for our current generation.[2]
The story of Migdal Bavel cautions us from superficiality. It teaches us to embrace the chaos born out of diversity of thought and opinion. And it tells the tale human life, which is ordered by the process and not the outcome.
In our continued search for meaning in life, we are often lured beyond the proper areas of inspection. We seek the “lecture by Carl Rogers,” or the “city and tower” of Parashat Noah. The episode of Migdal Bavel reminds us that our success is best realized when we instead search within. Turn to your family members and neighbors. Listen to their concerns, beliefs and opinions. Share your own thoughts with them. Allow the shared dialogue and understanding to build our own cities and towers.
Shabbat shalom!
Rabbi Avi Harari
______________________
[1] Carl R. Rogers, A Way of Being (New York, NY, 1995), pg. 316-27.
[2] Ibid., pg. 332.
Monday, September 18, 2017
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)