Conquering a World of Confusion

 

As we read Parshat Noach, I feel it’s appropriate to quote Genesis…the rock band.

    There's too many men
    Too many people
    Making too many problems
    This is a land of confusion…
    Tell me why, this is a land of confusion.

Parshat Noach begins and ends with confusion. Let’s explain why.

The word mabul, flood, has the same Hebrew root as bavel, as in Tower of Babel. BLL is the root for words which mean “upend,” “mix,” or “confuse.” Essentially, God upends the world with a flood so it can start again and responds to the Tower of Babel by confusing everyone. Let’s look a little more closely at the Migdal Bavel, Tower of Babel episode of confusion.

“Everyone on earth had the same language and the same words.” (Bereishit 11:1)

People were all speaking a common language. They acted together to build a tower to the heavens to make a name for themselves and protect themselves from “being scattered all over the world.” God takes a look and is displeased. “If, as one people with one language for all, this is how they act, then nothing they may propose to do with be out of their reach.” God sees this ending badly. So God decides to “confound their speech, so that they not understand each other.” And that’s what God did. “That is the place is called Bavel since this is where God confounded (BLL) the speech of the whole earth and scattered them over the land.”

What was so wrong with the plan to make a name and build a tower? What did God’s confusing and scattering them solve?

Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin, the Netziv, explains it was the mindset of the Builders of Bavel that was so detrimental.

“The text did not explain what the people’s 'few words' were…[I]t wasn't because of the content of the words themselves that the Holy One of Blessing was distressed. They were what they were, and in its simplicity there is not sin, and on the contrary all appears well. But here what happened is that all thought the same thing, and this came to be the problem of the settlement.”

The problem with the Builders of Bavel was they were trying to construct a society built on absolute conformity, of people being required to think and act alike. It is one thing to have a common purpose or community standards. It is destructive, however, when the people demand absolute allegiance to a society of their own creation.

The answer was to confuse them. Force people to have to find a way to live together even when speaking and acting differently. The Netziv comments that we don’t know what happened to the tower they were constructing. It doesn’t matter. With the people separate and disparate, it was now up to them to find a will and a way to get along and live together.

What was true then is still true today.

We live in a world where, all too often, people want to live only with those who think, act, and speak alike. Long ago, Martin Buber (1878-1965) noted this problem with society. He wrote the fact “that people can no longer carry on authentic dialogue with one another is not only the most acute symptom of the pathology of our time, it is also that which most urgently makes a demand of us.” 

The solution is bavel, learning to appreciate different kinds of people, ideas, customs, and practices. It can be good for us! S. Y. Agnon, in his short story “Between Two Towns,” wrote: “The good Lord created a vast world, with many people in it whom He scattered wide, giving each place its singular quality and endowing every man with singular wisdom. You leave home and meet people from another place, and your mind is expanded by what you hear.”

Parshat Noach describes a messy world in need of fixing. The first fix was a reboot. In the Tower of Bavel episode, the fix required messing things up a little bit to challenge humanity to learn to live with each other – differences and all.

I close with Genesis:

    This is the world we live in
    And this is the hand we're given
    Use it and let's start trying
    To make our world a place worth living in

Here’s to elevating the confusion.

Where is Gan Eden?

 

Paradise? A real place? Something mystical, other-worldly, or part of the afterlife? An Iron Butterfly song?

All of the above and maybe more. Let’s have a look at the sources.

Adam and Chava were placed in a “gan b’eden mi’kedem – garden in Eden in the east.” (Bereishit 2:8) However, God banishes humanity “mi’gan eden - from the Garden of Eden” (3:23) as punishment for Adam and Chava eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. They are driven out eastward, and “the cherubm and a fiery ever-turning sword, guard the way back” (v. 24) These verses seem to describe Gan Eden as a paradise lost, an amazing place that could have been ours. We want to return, but there’s a pretty big, fiery, and sharp obstacle preventing us from entering Gan Eden again.

Or it can again be ours if only we could find it. The Torah describes the rivers that border Gan Eden. Find the rivers, find the garden. It’s not so simple. Reish Lakish (Eruvin 19a) speculated whether the entrance to the Garden of Eden was in Israel, Arabia or between the rivers of Babylonia. Ramban posits Gan Eden is located at the equator based on its spiritual characteristics.

It might just be easier to view Gan Eden as a spiritual realm where the soul goes after a person passes from this world. We mention this in the Kel Maleh Rachamim memorial prayer when we hope that Gan Eden will be the resting place for the soul of the departed.

Maybe Gan Eden is both a physical place and a spiritual place. It is hiding in plain sight and impossible to find. God intended the garden to be a paradise, but it didn’t work out that way. Instead, Gan Eden has taken on multiple meanings in various locations – or simply an elusive perfection for which we dream and strive. Mine is different than yours, and all of ours are Gan Eden.

Rabbi Shalom Noach Berezovsky, the Slonimer Rebbe, writes in his Netivot Shalom that every person needs to read the Torah as if it was written for them. In other words, we do not read about creation or Gan Eden as history only in the past. Our challenge is to read Torah in a way that it resonates with our existence. The story of creation might be filtered through our understanding of science or, in particular this year, the amazing findings and pictures of the Webb Telescope. The serpent might represent that voice which discourages us from doing what we know we should. It will be an interesting year of weekly portions to find ourselves in each one.

Gan Eden might be where we live (“Everything’s better by the beach!”), our homes (“There’s no place like home!”), time to ourselves, or time with family and friends. And it’s not a bad Iron Butterfly song either. Let’s keep searching for our individual Gan Eden while making our lives a little more idyllic wherever we find ourselves.

Beat It!

Sunday is Hoshana Rabbah, the last day of Sukkot. The day gets its name from the “Hoshana” service in the Beit Mikdash in which the people would circle the altar carrying an aravah, a willow branch, calling out “Hoshana,” which means “save us.” On the 7^th day of Sukkot, the service included seven circuits around the altar. More circuits meant more declarations of “Hoshana,” prompting the 7^th day of Sukkot be called “Hoshana Rabbah,” the day of many pleas for salvation.

Nowadays, Hoshana Rabbah is also marked as the last day of the High Holy Day season. In addition to an extended Hoshanot service of 7 circuits around the shul holding the lulav and etrog, there are additional prayers recited, and the tunes of the High Holidays are used. Some people extend a High Holiday greeting of “Gmar chatimah tovah” (a good sealing in the Book of Life) or the Yiddish “a gut kvittel” (a good verdict notice). I’ve always understood this as our verdict is written on Rosh Hashanah, it is sealed on Yom Kippur, and the book goes back on the shelf on Hoshana Rabbah. (Although some Chasidim extend the judgment season through Chanukah!)

The Talmud (Sukkah 43b) mentions another ritual performed with the willow branch on the 7^th day of Sukkot – chibut. Many commentators (including Rambam) say this meant to beat the aravah on the ground. This has developed into the practice known as “klopping hoshanos,” or beating a bundle of 5 aravot on the ground at the end of the Hoshanot service on Hoshana Rabbah.

What is the reason for klopping hoshanos?

Some understand the practice as a more intense way to pray - especially for rain. The Mishnah teaches that Sukkot is the time the world is judged regarding the year’s rainfall. The last day of Sukkot is when the verdict is given. (This is why we subsequently recite “Geshem” and pray for rain on Shemini Atzeret.) The physical movement of beating the branches on the floor is meant to evoke a more passionate plea for rain. Some note that all the branches being beaten at the same time actually sounds like rainfall.

Another way to understand the beating of the branches is that we are beating away sinful behavior. This evokes the malkut, the punishment of lashes Beit Din would impose on certain sins. We klop in the hope that God views this act as expiation for our sins.

Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak Ha-Kohen Kook, in his classic style, offers a deeper explanation. He references the Midrash that the four species represent different types of Jews. The etrog, with its smell and taste, represents a Jew with Torah and good deeds; the hadasim and lulav represent Jews with good deeds but no Torah or no Torah but good deeds; and the aravah, which has neither a nice smell nor a good taste, represents those Jews who have no Torah or good deeds. The aravah, therefore, represents the simple Jew, who often demonstrates intuitive, healthy, and natural religious instincts. On Hoshana Rabbah, Rav Kook explains, we do not “beat the aravot," but “beat WITH the aravot,” invoking that simple religious fervor in our pleas to God.

However you slice it – or beat it, klopping hoshanos can be a very powerful, spiritual, and uplifting ritual. Kids love it! They try to smash the branch to smithereens. (So it can be kind of messy.) This ancient activity is a physical movement at the conclusion of a long series of pleas for salvation, health, wellbeing, and blessing. This is yet another way that Judaism moves us. We don’t just talk the talk; we walk the walk (7 times in fact) and beat our branches in an effort to literally and aggressively propel us forward into the New Year.

Klop on! Beat it!

I May Be a Golden Girl But That Doesn't Mean I'm Old

Have you ever watched the “Golden Girls” on TV? Considering that the show, which ran from 1985-1992, is about the lives of four widows in a retirement community in Florida, it’s amazing how many people my age remember the show. It was a big, award-winning hit.

And I just realized that I am a Golden Girl.

How old do you think the characters were in the show? I thought they must be, at least, in their 60s. I was recently shocked to learn that Blanche Deveraux, played by Rue McClanahan (above), was scripted as being 47 years old when the show began.  What?!?  She’s an old lady. I’M 47!!!!! So, you see, I am a Golden Girl. It’s been a rough week…

I know I am not old. I know many people who are in their 80s, 90s, or even 100+ who don’t act old. One such person liked to say, “Age is only a number – and mine is unlisted.” There is a chronological age, and there is an attitudinal and perspective age. The goal is to always approach life with as fresh, vibrant, and energetic perspective as possible.

Sukkot is a holiday of many messages. One is the message of freshness.

The Mishnah (Sukkah 3:1) teaches that lulav ha-yaveish pasul, a dried out lulav is disqualified and may not be used. Why is a fresh lulav required?

Rashi says that the problem with yaveish is that it lacks hiddur, it is not beautiful enough. In other words, we try to fulfill the mitzvah in as an ideal way as possible. A completely dried out lulav doesn’t even qualify for the base-line requirement to be considered as passable.

Rabbi Avin, in the Talmud Yerushalmi, says that the problem with yaveish is due to the verse in Tehillim that we read during Hallel, “Lo ha-meitim yehaleil kah – The dead cannot praise God.” Part of the performance of the mitzvah of the Four Species is the na’a’nuim, wavings, during Hallel. A dead, dry Lulav has no place in such a joyous activity.

Rabbi Yaakov ben Asher, the Ba’al Ha-Turim, explains that Lulav has the gematriya (numerical value) of chaim, life. Both are 68. That, he says, is why a dry lulav is unfit. A lulav signifies life, so it must be fresh since that is how life is meant to be lived.

Throughout the Sukkot holiday, we encounter rituals and symbols of beauty, joy, and vitality – etrog, lulav, sukkah, Simchat Torah, and more. Taken together, they create an atmosphere of freshness that is meant to combat any negative or stagnant feelings that may make us feel “old.”

So, I’m OK with being a Golden Girl. Age is a number. Jewish life is a glorious joyous, fresh adventure. L’chaim!