Edited and adapted from Ari’s Grill & Torah on October 17, 2017.
Last week, in Parashat Bereshit, the world was created, and immediately man messed up. Adam ate from the one tree that HaKadosh Baruch Hu told him not to eat from, and he was banished from Gan Eden.
We discussed last week what the actual sin was and what the punishment was, because God didn’t banish man right away. First, He asked him, “Did you eat from the tree?” And then man blamed his wife, and his wife blamed the serpent.
Now, in Parashat Noach, it seems that mankind messes up again.
And the truth of the matter is, my question always was: What does God want from man?
God created us with an evil inclination, the yetzer hara. He hadn’t given us the Torah yet. He hadn’t given us an instruction book. So what responsibility did we have as human beings without a Torah? What morality did God expect from mankind?
That’s my first question.
My second question has to do with the flood. We know there are different opinions as to why the mabul, the flood, came about. One opinion is that it was because of a lack of sexual morality. Another opinion is that it was because of gezel, stealing. People were stealing money and possessions from one another, and that’s why the world was destroyed.
But then we have another very important ideal in Judaism: unity.
We know that wars were won in the Bible by Jewish kings, not necessarily because those kings were the most righteous people, or because the soldiers in their armies were the most righteous, but because there was unity among them.
Then comes the next story, the Tower of Bavel.
Everybody is unified around one goal: building this enormous tower that will reach the heavens. Whether the tower is literal or a mashal, an allegory, is something we can discuss. But the point is that they were united in their goal.
And what happened? God mixed up their languages. Suddenly, they could no longer communicate with each other. They no longer had the tools to unite. God took away the tools for their unity, the tower was destroyed, and another generation was punished.
So where are all these mistakes coming from? What does God want from us? How were we supposed to know what we should be doing?
The Torah was only given 26 generations later. What were the first 26 generations of mankind supposed to do?
Morality and Unity: Do We Have to Choose?
I always said that there’s no morality without the Torah. But when I look at those first 26 generations, I see something different.
The fact that HaKadosh Baruch Hu punished mankind for its actions before the Torah was given means that there was already some responsibility. There was some morality that mankind was expected to uphold, even without having received the Torah.
And it seems that we were expected to figure this out on our own. The fact that we didn’t brought about the destruction of the world.
So we have the generation of the flood, where the problem was morality, or rather, immorality. Then we have the generation of the Tower of Bavel, where everybody was united, but united around a negative goal.
So what are we supposed to do? What’s more important, morality or unity? Should we sacrifice unity for the sake of morality?
There are so many people who become very, very religious, and suddenly they don’t talk to their parents anymore. They don’t talk to their friends. They lose their sense of humor. If they had some special talent, they give it up.
Is that what we’re supposed to do?
Are we supposed to say, “Oh, I’m religious now. I’m not going to be involved in this world. I’m cutting all social ties. I’m not going to talk to people. I’m not going to be involved in business”?
Maybe we’re supposed to become hermits living on some mountain somewhere, completely disconnected from society.
Or are we supposed to get along with people in this world, even people who don’t agree with us? How are we supposed to make that work?
I asked what’s more important, morality or unity. But that was really a trick question.
It’s a fake question, because morality and unity don’t negate each other. You can have both.
What I Learned in the IDF
I just got back from the army for the weekend, and it was an amazing, amazing experience to be able to serve.
In my unit, I have guys who are religious. I have guys who are not religious. I have guys who are really secular, and I even have guys who are Haredi.
And the funny thing is, we all get along. We really all get along.
Sometimes, very deep discussions come up in the army. Do you believe in God? Do you not believe in God? Why does God want this? Why did this happen? Why did the Holocaust happen?
These are serious discussions, and sometimes we really disagree with each other.
But there’s something in the IDF that allows us to have these discussions in a way that’s different from having them online, or even arguing with someone you meet on the street.
Because I’m talking to a guy who would jump on a grenade for me.
There’s real mutual respect between us. Actually, it’s more than mutual respect. There’s genuine mutual love.
So when we get into these discussions, it’s never about “I don’t like you.” We have respect for each other. We have unity. And because of that, we can really try to convince each other. We can have these discussions and try to figure out what’s right and what’s wrong.
The mutual respect we have for each other, even when we’re arguing about these things, is what allows the conversation to continue.
There’s something else that I think the Gemara teaches us about how we understand good and bad in this world.
In this world, there are two different blessings we say when it comes to our experiences in life.
One is Hatov vehametiv, the good and the One who makes good. When something good happens, when we drink new wine, we praise God for the good things in life.
Then there’s another bracha, lehavdil, on the opposite end of the spectrum: Baruch dayan ha-emet. We bless God as the ultimate judge. When tragedy happens, lo aleinu, when someone dies, we say Baruch dayan ha-emet.
But the Gemara tells us that in the world to come, there will only be one bracha, Hatov vehametiv, the positive one.
So the question is, how does that happen? If tragedy happens, how are you going to bless Hatov vehametiv? How can I possibly say Hatov vehametiv when tragedy happens?
These are the kinds of questions we grapple with, and the mutual respect we have for each other when discussing these things is what allows us to have those conversations.
And that brings us back to the balance between morality and unity.
A Hero Doesn’t Follow the Crowd
The ability to balance morality and unity is very, very important. If I want someone to change their mind or change their opinion, I can only do it with love.
You kill them with kindness, like they say.
When it came to the generation of Noach, the first problem was morality. They had absolutely no morality. They were stealing from each other, which means they weren’t even united in their goal.
Then, after the world was destroyed, came the second problem: unity for the wrong purpose.
The fact that everybody says to do something doesn’t mean I should do it. Absolutely not.
I say this to people all the time: A hero is someone who makes good decisions, even when those decisions are very, very difficult, even unpopular.
That’s what a hero is. Someone who doesn’t just go along with the public.
“Oh, it’s so popular to do this.”
Okay, it’s popular, but it’s immoral, and therefore I will not do it.
This is what the Torah is teaching us. This is the value of having morals that are not based on society’s opinions.
Think about somebody in Germany in 1942 who saved Jews. That person was a hero.
Why is saving someone a hero? Because the public was saying, “Kill them all! Kill them all!”
What made that person a hero was that he went against public opinion because of morality.
You have to balance the two. You should never give up your morals because of what society is telling you to do.
But on the other hand, Judaism doesn’t tell us to live as hermits on some mountain somewhere, out in the middle of nowhere. Quite the opposite. Judaism tells us to be involved in society.
Sanctifying the Mundane
Rav Kook would say, “Lekadesh hachol” — to sanctify the mundane.
Take things in this world and make them holy.
Think about the people who are lawyers, doctors, high-tech people, businesspeople, whatever it might be. All these people have the ability to take the mundane things of everyday life and elevate them, to sanctify them.
We have the ability to use the things we do every day to become better people, to become people who have lived full lives before they die.
Because when someone dies, he doesn’t want his tombstone to say, “He was a lawyer,” or whatever profession he happened to have.
He wants it to say, “He was a good person.”
And that’s really what we’re supposed to do.
Whatever tools or talents you have, whatever God gave you in this world, you’re supposed to use them for good. Whatever it might be.
Have an awesome weekend, everyone.
Shabbat shalom from the stunning, beautiful rolling hills of Judea, Israel.