Parshat Noach: The Flood and Dor Haflaga: Learning From Our Mistakes

BY: Tali Kern

One of the things I found very interesting about Parashat Noach was that over one small parasha, we see the exploration of two very different generations--dor hamabul--the generation of Noach and the flood, and dor haflaga, the generation of the building of the tower of Bavel. There seems to be special significance to the juxtaposition of these two generations, which both manage to disappoint and anger G-d so strongly. Before analyzing the meaning behind their consecutive appearances, I would like to analyze the sins of each generation independently, which will help us understand the reason for the close placement of these two generations in our parasha and what lessons this can teach us.

When speaking about dor hamabul, the Torah says “And the world was corrupt before G-d and the land was filled with violent crime.” (Bereishit 6:11)  Rashi says that the people were committing violent and forceful theft, in addition to being sexually promiscuous. The depraved men of this generation had no compunction about taking any woman they desired.

Ralbag (R. Levi ben Gershon, 13-14th century France) elaborates on Rashi’s point, explaining that these sins were especially bad because they built on one another. Though the initial sin was adultery, and not respecting the wives of their peers, that licentiousness led to a serious corruption in justice and the theft of the material possessions of others. This principle of aveira gorreret aveira, one bad deed leads to another, is illustrated in Masechet Avot (4:2). Ultimately, dor hamabul lost their fear of G-d and their respect for the Torah. Without G-d as their guidepost, there were no agreed upon moral standards, and everyone did what he believed to be right, ignoring the idea of a higher and ultimate morality. Rabbi Bernie Fox (of the Orthodox Union) explains that the people deserved to be destroyed because of this behavior and attitude; the people of dor hamabul viewed themselves as being superior to their peers by taking that which didn’t belong to them. They had exaggerated self-esteem, no boundaries, and viewed themselves as the exclusive dominators of the earth.

After the generation of the flood was destroyed, the next generation, dor haflaga, sinned by building a tower to the heavens. Rashi explained that G-d looked upon it negatively because it was either a statement of war against G-d or they thought that G-d needed the support.

Rabbanit Sharon Rimon brings in another reason for why building the tower might have been such an evil enterprise. There was no evidence at the time for why the people might have built this tower, as it was not a necessary architectural structure. Against this backdrop, the arrogance of the builders of the Tower is especially striking; the whole purpose of this construction is self-glorification. The people did not build the tower for any practical purpose or to give honor and glory to G-d. The purpose was simply to "make for ourselves a name."(Bereishit 11:4) The text emphasizes this through the word "lanu – for ourselves": "We shall make [for] ourselves a name." This word expresses their focus on themselves, on the glorification of the name of man.

The foil to the self-glorification of dor haflaga appears in the immediate introduction of Avraham that follows dor haflaga. Avraham chose to spiritually elevate his constructions, building an altar specifically to honor G-d. The contrast to dor haflaga, who built the tower solely for themselves, is striking and purposeful.

Upon focusing on the sins of each generation, I think it becomes clear why in such a short parasha, we see two extreme generations, one after the next, who act in such destructive and sinful ways. Even though G-d destroyed the world with the flood, the next generation, dor haflaga, still managed to sin albeit in a different way. Although they didn’t make the same mistakes again, they weren’t careful about their actions and continued to sin against G-d. These two generations show two extremes of sinning: the first displayed cruelty against our fellow human beings, and the second, arrogance against G-d.

I think that the juxtaposition of these two generations shows us the importance of learning from our mistakes and the punishments that can befall us if we don’t. After the world was destroyed, dor haflaga should have been especially sensitive to sin, but they didn’t seize the opportunity to do teshuva (repentance) for the generation before them and sinned again. Every day we have a new opportunity to work on ourselves and do teshuva for our sins in the past. We can revert to old mistakes by turning against G-d like in dor haflaga, or we can turn our mistakes into constructive means of aiding us in serving G-d. It is up to us to seize the opportunities we are given and put them to good use.

GOOD SHABBOS.

Parshat Bereishit: “Let’s Start at the Very Beginning . . . a Very Good Place to Start . . . ”

BY: SHOSHANA BALK

Considered by many scholars to be the most enigmatic parasha in the entire Torah, one could spend a lifetime of scholarship immersed solely in the mysteries of Parashat Bereishit. Preceding any commentary on these introductory pesukim is the seemingly elementary inquiry posed by the majority of medieval commentators: Why does the Torah begin with the creation story?

Perhaps such a question would not initially occur to contemporary readers, as it seems sensible for Biblical events to have been recorded in chronological order. However, Rashi points out that the root hora’ah, instruction, characterizes the Torah at its core not as a historical volume occurring sequentially, but rather as a book of laws that serves to educate us about the commandmentsⁱ. In this vein, the Torah should have begun with the first law commanded to the Jewish people – “ha-chodesh ha-zeh la-khem”, the commandment for sanctifying the new monthⁱⁱ.

To elaborate on Rashi’s query as to the placement of this narrative, it behooves us to consult the literature of Rabbi Yehuda Ha-Levy. In Sefer Ha-Kuzari, a religious debate transpires between a gentile king and a Jew. The king challenges his opponent’s unwavering faith in the God of the Jewish nation, to which the Jew responds: “I believe in the God of my forefathers because of the miracles He brought about on behalf of my people.” The king ridiculed the Jew: “Why would you not state instead that you believe in the God Who created the entire world? What better proof exists for the God you claim than the account of creation as described in the Book of Genesis?” “If my religion was one that centered upon philosophy,” countered the Jew, “then I would have pointed to creation to prove the existence of God; but if two philosophers were involved in a disputation, they would attempt to disprove one another until the end of time for the fact that most philosophical concepts lack demonstrable truths. Far more than the act of creation, God’s continued involvement in the world He fashioned serves as the incontrovertible proof of His omniscienceⁱⁱⁱ.”

In his introductory remarks to Sefer Bereishit, Nachmanides echoes the sentiments expressed in Sefer Ha-Kuzari. Nachmanides states that the Torah begins with God creating the world because this narrative is the shoresh ha-emuna, the foundation of our belief system^iv. Yet, in his comments on the Aseret Ha-Dibrot, Nachmanides wonders: “Why is the commandment “Anochi Hashem Elokecha” followed by the phrase “asher hotzeiticha mei-eretz Mitzrayim”?” Why does God not augment His supremacy by pointing to His creation of the world – His preliminary, and ostensibly His most preeminent, achievement? Like Rabbi Yehuda Ha-Levy, Nachmanides asserts that concrete historical events witnessed by mankind showcase the divine providence of God far more than His act of creation, of which the details remain obscure^v. These observations exacerbate our original question as to why the Torah begins with the creation of the world, which does not function as the prime substantiation of an Almighty God.

Armed with these further points of perplexity, let us return to Rashi and assess his own response to the very question he puts forth. Rashi explains that the creation story establishes God’s authority over the earth and by association His right to bequeath land to whichever nation He sees fit^vi. Rashi defends the Jewish nation’s conquest of Eretz Yisrael and its neighboring regions, since these properties are ultimately owned by God. Since Rashi defines the Torah as a book of commandments, it is no surprise that he maintains a focus on the Land of Israel, where these commandments are most sufficiently fulfilled.

Looking beyond the surface, Rashi seems to foreshadow the comments of his descendants. When Rashi posits that the Torah, as a book of laws, should have begun with ha-chodesh ha-zeh la-khem, one might infer that he is referring to the entire narrative surrounding the mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh – namely, that of Yetziat Mitzrayim^vii, as referenced in later times by Nachmanides. Therefore, it certainly appears that Rashi recognized the superiority of historical events witnessed by mankind, rather than the act of creation, as confirmation of God’s existence. To that end, Rashi even seems to be intentionally shifting our focus away from the details of the creation story, which is too esoteric of a narrative to have been intended as the focus of these pesukim. He establishes a grammatical proof for this proposal, identifying the atypical word bereishit as a samuch, or a construct. As a result, the first two verses of the Torah are read as one consolidated verse: “In the beginning OF God's creating the heavens and the earth, the earth was tohu va-vohu”, and so forth, which succeeds in shining the spotlight on what happens directly after creation and impedes any curiosity readers might have about the obscure details surrounding the creation itself.

Following in the footsteps of his grandfather Rashi, Rashbam likewise classifies the word bereishit as a construct (in his words, davuk as opposed to samuch) and shifts the focus of the text away from the actual creation of the world. Rashbam builds on Rashi’s observation in his assertion that creation itself actually occurred long before the first pasuk in the Torah! These pesukim narrate a time long after the initial creation process, but the world still wallows in an inoperative state of tohu va-vohu ^viii. If not creation, then what is the pinnacle of these opening verses of the Torah? According to scholar Sarah Kamin, one of Rashbam’s derech ha-mikraot (literary principles) is the principle of anticipatory information^ix. Thus, Rashbam posits that creation merely acts as a preface for the true theme of this parasha, which is in fact the commandment of Shabbat! While the act of creation is valuable in its own right, the implications of Shabbat are all that much more magnified; for the glory of the Torah centers on the relationship between God and His creations, commencing with the establishment of Shabbat.

Rashbam comes full circle in addressing Rashi’s preexisting bewilderment as to why the Torah did not begin with the commandment of sanctifying the new month. Shabbat, just like Rosh Chodesh, illustrates that which is arguably Judaism at its core – namely, the sanctification of time. Parashat Bereishit is not merely an account of creation, but an exposé of God’s ongoing relationship with His creations.

i Gur Aryeh, Bereshit 1:1

ii Shemot 12:2

iii Sefer Ha-Kuzari, Ma’amar Rishon (loosely translated)

iv Nachmanides, Bereshit 1:1

v Nachmanides, Shemot 20:2

vi Rashi, Bereshit 1:1

vii Noted in a lecture by Dr. Michelle Levine, Associate Professor of Bible at Stern College, author of “Nahmanides on Genesis: The Art of Biblical Portraiture” 

viii Rashbam, Bereshit 1:1

ix  Sarah Kamin, "Rashbam's Conception of the Creation in Light of the Intellectual Currents of His Time"