Rashi on the Tower of Babel: Limits of Human Capabilities

Rashi, commenting to the first verse of the story of Migdal Bavel (11:1), writes that the people constructed the tower in an attempt to prevent another flood: “They said: Every 1,656 years, the sky collapses, as it did during the time of the Flood; let us make supports for it.”

This explanation, taken from the Midrash, should perhaps be understood as an allegorical insight into the mistake made by the people of that generation. They thought that they could solve their problems and ensure their wellbeing solely through their own ingenuity and industriousness, without any need for God or religion. They sought to construct “supports” for the heavens in the euphemistic sense, by presuming for themselves the power and ability to protect themselves. Rather than understand that God brought the flood in response to mankind’s sinfulness and corruption, they instead decided that they can somehow take control of the Earth by themselves and keep it safe, without having to rely on God.

This explanation dovetails with Rashi’s alternate approach to the Migdal Bavel story, claiming that the people built the tower in an attempt to “wage war” against God: “He does not have the right to choose the upper worlds for Himself; let us ascend to the heavens and wage war against Him.” In this instance, too, the Midrash’s comment need not necessarily be taken literally. It perhaps means that the people rejected the notion of God’s omnipotence and control over the Earth and sought to oppose it. They assumed for themselves the “upper worlds,” the power and authority that until then was viewed as the exclusive province of God. They “waged war” against the belief in God’s unlimited control, asserting their independent ability to govern and control their own affairs without any involvement on God’s part.

God therefore responded by arranging a situation where the people were incapable of working together. He demonstrated the limits of human capabilities, that despite our great potential, we nevertheless are and always will be dependent upon His kindness and grace. The builders of the tower were correct in recognizing and seeking to harness human ingenuity. They erred, however, by failing to recognize its limits, and that we are incapable of accomplishing and succeeding without the Almighty’s help.

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Walking With God: Spiritual Isolation or Human Engagement?

The opening verse of Parashat Noach describes Noach as a “righteous man” who “walked with God” (“et ha-Elokim hit’halekh Noach”). Seforno explains “walking with God” to mean, “He followed His ways, helping others and rebuking his contemporaries.” As opposed to other commentators, who portray Noach as disengaged from his society and apathetic to the moral decline that characterized his generation, Seforno maintains that the Torah specifically describes Noach as a sensitive, engaged individual who treated others with kindness and made a sincere effort to influence them positively. Seforno makes a similar comment earlier (5:24) in explaining the Torah’s description of Chanokh as “walking with God.” There, too, Seforno explains this phrase as referring to kindness and an attempt to exert positive influence.

Both these men, Noach and Chanokh, were eventually separated from the people of their time because of their exceptional piety. Noach was protected from the floodwaters which ravaged his contemporaries by being secluded in an ark, and Chanokh, as Rashi explains, was taken to Gan Eden alive so he would not fall prey to the negative influences of the people of his time. We might have assumed – and some sources indeed express this view – that Chanokh and Noach were permanently separated from their contemporaries specifically because they had chosen to separate themselves. As righteous men living in a corrupt, sinful world, they chose disengagement and detachment, and God advanced this process further by extracting them permanently from the rest of the world. This reading might seem consistent with the phrase “walk with God,” which could be understood to mean adhering to God to the exclusion of other people, distancing oneself from society for the purpose of clinging to spirituality.

Seforno, however, apparently could not countenance such an interpretation. In his view, “walking with God” can only mean adhering to the Almighty’s example of kindness, sensitivity and direct, intensive involvement in human affairs. If a person clings to God, then he does what God does – he compassionately cares for other people and seeks to provide their needs. Just as God descends, so-to-speak, to care for human beings, people who “walk with God” are those who – not despite their lofty stature of piety, but specifically because of their lofty stature of piety – are engaged with society and with people of all kinds in order to care for them and benefit the world. According to Seforno, “walking with God” cannot possibly refer to isolation, but must absolutely refer to active involvement and genuine concern.

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Tehillim 92: A Song for Shabbat - and for Teshuva?

The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba, 22:13) relates that after Kayin’s exchange with God following his murder of Hevel, he met his father, Adam. Adam inquired about Kayin’s sentence for killing his brother, and Kayin replied that he was forgiven and granted a reprieve. Adam then exclaimed with frustration, “Such is the power of repentance – and I was not aware!” The Midrash concludes that Adam immediately proceeded to compose a hymn which was later incorporated into Tehillim – the Psalm of “Mizmor shir le-yom ha-Shabbat” (Tehillim 92).

This account gives rise to several questions, including the question of how this chapter of Tehillim relates to teshuva. The chapter of “Mizmor shir le-yom ha-Shabbat” speaks of the need to thank and praise God even during dark times, when evil people prosper. Ultimately, the Psalmist promises, evil will be defeated and the righteous will blossom and flourish, and it will then become clear to one and all that God is just and gives all people what they deserve. Why would Adam compose this text in response to discovering the power of teshuva?

This chapter of Tehillim conveys the message that the circumstances we observe at the present do not tell the whole story. The story is still being written, and thus we cannot reach definitive conclusions based on the events we currently witness. When we see wicked people flourish, the Psalmist tells us, we must remember that “le-hishamdam adei ad” – they will ultimately be eradicated, and their success is only temporary. The fact that they enjoy prosperity now does not mean that this will always be the case; indeed, the end will be far different from the present.

The Midrash perhaps teaches us that this is true of teshuva, as well. The reason why repentance is effective is because as long as we are alive, our “story” is still being written. Through repentance, we have the capacity to determine that our missteps were just bumps along the road, or necessary detours which somehow helped us reach our desired destination. As in the case with the prosperity of the wicked, our misdeeds do not necessarily reflect the final outcome. If we capitalize on healthy feelings of regret and shame, and learn from our mistakes rather than despair because of them, then we can become better and nobler people, and thereby end our story on a more positive note. Psalm 91, then, is an appropriate and powerful reaction to the great gift of teshuva, as it expresses the need to recognize that until the final chapter is written, situations can be changed and a positive outcome can be achieved.

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לא לחפות על עושי עוולה

יש מקומות ששמם הופך להיות לסמל. תל חי היא סמל לאחיזה, לגבורה, לעמידה על הזכות. סדום ועמורה הן סמל לרשעות, לאטימות.
הושע רואה את גבעה - הלא היא גבעת בנימין, צפונית לירושלים, כסמל לדבקות בחטא.

"מימי הגבעה חטאת ישראל שם עמדו
לא תשיגם בגבעה מלחמה על בני עלוה" (י', ט)

מה אירע שם בגבעה?

בשופטים פרק י"ט מתואר מעשה פילגש בגבעה: איש ופילגשו ונערו עוברים ליד גבעה, והם מחפשים מקום ללון. רק זקן אחד, שגם הוא אינו מקומי בגבעה, מוכן להלין אותם. ומיד מתגלגל המעשה כמו רפליקה של סיפור לוט והאורחים בסדום: אנשי גבעה דורשים להוציא אליהם את האורח, האיש מוציא את פילגשו לאנשי גבעה, והם מתעללים בה עד שהיא מתה.

כשהמעשה נודע לבני ישראל, הם מבקשים לשפוט את הפושעים, אבל בני גבעה מגינים עליהם ולכן בני ישראל יוצאים למלחמה על גבעה.

על קרב זה אומר הנביא הושע:

"העמיקו שחתו כימי הגבעה יזכור עונם יפקוד חטאותם" (ט', ט)
"מימי הגבעה חטאת ישראל שם עמדו, לא תשיגם בגבעה מלחמה על בני עלוה" (י', ט)

הנביא טוען כלפי ישראל, שהם תקועים באותה מנטאליות של בני בנימין בגבעה. "מימי הגבעה... שם עמדו". בני בנימין בגאווה חסרת יסוד, בטוחים כי "לא תשיגם בגבעה מלחמה". כי כל ישראל העולה עליהם למלחמה לא יוכל להשיגם. בסתר ליבם הם מבינים כי נעשה עוול, וכי המלחמה היא "מלחמה על בני עלוה" [עלווה - במשמעות עוולה] אבל מול ההבנה הזו עומדת ההזדהות החברתית עם השבט, עם התנועה, עם המפלגה. ומה בכך שנעשה מעשה עוולה - המעשה נעשה על ידי חברי, אחי, ועלי להגן עליהם בכל מחיר.

והנביא מתאר במילים רועמות את התוצאה של אחוות אחים זו, בפסוק יד:

"וקאם שאון בעמך, וכל מבצריך יושד,
כשוד שלמן בית ארבאל, ביום מלחמה,
אם על בנים רטשה"

המפלגה, השבט, השכונה, אינם מטהרים את העוול. והמגן על מעשי עוול בשל כך, הוא בסופו של דבר שותף למפלה במלחמה.

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כנגד הנוצרים

"אכתוב לו רובי תורתי, כמו זר נחשבו" (יב)

כדרכם של פסוקים עמומים, המדרש מפרש את הפסוק בדרכו שלו:

במדבר רבה (וילנא) פרשה יד ד"ה י ביום עשתי
נתן הקב"ה לישראל שתי תורות: תורה שבכתב ותורה שבעל פה. נתן להם תורה שבכתב שיש בה תרי"ג מצות, כדי למלאם מצות ולזכותם... נתן להם תורה שבעל פה להיות מצויינין בה משאר האומות, שעל כך לא נתנה בכתב, כדי שלא יזייפוה ישמעאלים כשם שעשו תורה שבכתב, ויאמרו שהם ישראל. ועל זה אמר הכתוב (הושע ח', יב) "אכתוב לו רובי תורתי כמו זר נחשבו". אמר הקב"ה: אם אכתוב לישראל רובי תורתי, זה המשנה שהיא גדולה מן המקרא כמו זר נחשבו...

מדרש זה מופיע בכמה וריאציות, בכולם מתואר שהתורה שבעל פה לא נכתבה, כדי שהעמים לא יתרגמו אותה ולא ישתמשו בה לרעה. בכל אחד מהמדרשים הללו העמים נקראים בכינוי אחר: פעם אומות, ופעם עובדי כוכבים, ופעם ישמעאלים. למי הכוונה?

המדרש משקף את הויכוח עם הנוצרים. הנוצרים היו אלה שאימצו את התורה שבכתב, וטענו כי הם ישראל האמיתיים. הרעיון של החלפת ישראל בנצרות, הלא הוא החלפת ישראל בבשר בישראל ברוח. דהיינו: החלפתנו, אנו עם ישראל ההיסטורי, בני אברהם יצחק ויעקב, בעם ישראל חדש, שאימץ את רוחו של עם ישראל, הלא הוא הנצרות.

הנוצרים לא הרשו לישראל להתלונן על מר גורלם. המדרש שרצה להסביר את ההבדל בין ישראל לנוצרים, שרצה להדגיש כי המייחד את ישראל הוא התורה שבעל פה, ולא התורה שבכתב שאומצה על ידי הנצרות - מדרש זה נאלץ להתחפש: פעם דיבר על אומות העולם, פעם על עובדי האלילים (וייתכן כי יד הצנזורה כאן) ופעם על הישמעאלים - שהיו רחוקים מארצות הנוצרים ומהצנזורה הנוצרית, ואפשר היה להשתמש בהם כקוד מוסכם: אני אומר ישמעאלי, אבל אני מתכוון לנוצרים.

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Sara's Anger at Avraham's "Theft"

The Torah in Parashat Lekh-Lekha tells of how Sara had Avraham marry her maidservant, Hagar, in order for her to have children through Hagar, and how Hagar began acting disrespectfully towards Sara upon conceiving. As Sara was childless, Hagar viewed her pregnancy as heralding her status of superiority in the home. In response, Sara expressed anger to Avraham: “Sara said to Avraham: My fury is upon you; I placed my maidservant in your bosom, and when she saw she was pregnant, she belittled me” (16:5).

Rashi, commenting on the words, “Chamasi alekha” (“My fury is upon you”), explains, based on the Midrash, that Sara was telling Avraham, “Devarekha ata chomeis mimeni” – “You are robbing your words from me.” Sara was angry because Avraham should have intervened to defend her honor. By failing to do so, Avraham was “robbing his words,” keeping to himself the words that ought to have been clearly spoken.

Rashi’s interpretation of the word “chamas” in this context is striking. He builds upon the common usage of this term as a reference to theft, and applies this usage to a situation where one withheld something that should have been shared. Avraham is said to have “robbed” Sara in the sense that he did not speak the words that needed to be said, and failed to intervene when his intervention was vitally needed. Rashi’s interpretation of “chamasi alekha” teaches us that failing to help when help is needed and we are able to provide it constitutes a form of “chamas” – “theft.” Efforts that could be made to help others need to be made. If we have the time and resources to assist people in their time of need, and we fail to do so, then we are guilty of a form of “theft,” withholding for ourselves assets that should be used to help others. The fact that Avraham is described as “robbing” his wife by failing to provide the assistance and support she needed demonstrates the need to feel responsible and obliged to provide needed help when we are capable of doing so.

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Avraham's Uplifted Hand

We read in Parashat Lekh-Lekha of Avraham’s successful attack on the forces of the four kings who had captured his nephew, Lot, along with the rest of the people of Sedom. On his triumphant return from battle, the king of Sedom offered Avraham to keep all the property which had retrieved from the marauders. Avraham replied, “I have lifted my hand to the Supreme God…that I will not take anything of yours – even a thread or shoestring…” (14:22-23).

The phrase, “harimoti yadi” (“I have lifted my hand”) in this verse is commonly understood as a reference to an oath, Avraham’s formally swearing that he would never accept any of the property of Sedom. Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch noted, however, that whereas “hand raising” is indeed associated with oaths, Avraham’s formulation here differs from the standard wording used in reference to swearing. Usually, an oath is referred to with the verb n.s.a., whereas here Avraham says, “harimoti,” not “nasati.” In light of this distinction, Rav Hirsch considers a different reading of this verse. He observes that the term harimoti is related to the word teruma, which refers to a portion of something that is removed from the other portions and designated for a special purpose (such as a donation to a kohen). Thus, unlike other verbs that mean “raise,” the verb le-harim has the particular connotation of setting apart. It means not “raise,” but “separate”; it refers to “raising” not in the sense of elevation, but rather in the sense of distinction and special designation.

Rav Hirsch thus suggests that Avraham’s comment to the king of Sedom could be understood to mean as follows:

When I went away I dedicated my hand to God, no self-interested motives directed me, but rather I withdrew my hand from all other purposes that are lower than God, and dedicated it solely to God, so that from all my victory I may take nothing for any other purpose, nothing for myself.

Avraham declared that he diverted his “hand” away from everything else besides his dedication to the Almighty. When he set out for war, he pledged that his efforts would be exclusively devoted to the lofty purpose of rescuing his kin and defeating evil, and not for any personal gain. Therefore, he could not allow himself to accept the wealth of Sedom which he had retrieved.

Rav Hirsch’s insight challenges us to ask the uncomfortable question of how many of our virtuous acts are driven by sincere, altruistic motives, as opposed to less holy aspirations. Can we honestly avow, as Avraham did, “Harimoti yadi le-Kel Elyon” – that we engage in mitzvot purely out of a desire to serve our Creator, and not to derive personal benefit? We must learn from our patriarch to carefully examine our motives underlying even the meaningful pursuits in which we engage, to ensure that they are pure and not tainted by self-serving interests.

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Avraham and the Guests: Combating Isolation

Parashat Vayera begins by describing Avraham sitting by the entranceway to his tent during the heat of the day. Rashi, citing the Midrash, famously explains that Avraham was looking for wayfarers in need of hospitality, which he was very eager to provide. As Avraham had just undergone the procedure of circumcision and was thus physically frail, the Midrash tells, God brought exceptionally hot conditions so that people would not travel, in order to spare Avraham the trouble of having to tend to guests, and to allow him to recover from his circumcision. However, Avraham was eager to welcome guests despite his pain and frailty, and so he waited outside looking out for wayfarers. God sent the three angels to visit Avraham in order to fulfill his wish.

The Midrash’s comments are commonly understood as an expression of Avraham’s overpowering desire to perform acts of kindness, and how he persisted in his pursuit of opportunities for kindness even under adverse conditions. It is possible, however, that the Midrash’s depiction should be understood in terms of the specific context of Avraham’s circumcision. Avraham’s berit mila resulted in a degree of separation sorts between him and his contemporaries. The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 47) indeed comments that Avraham complained to God about this effect, how people would be far less likely to come to him and learn from him after hearing that he performed such an act. Performing berit mila not only threatened to frighten potential followers, who might worry that they would be expected to follow suit, but also served as a symbol of distinctiveness, as it created a permanent mark on Avraham’s body which would be made upon the bodies of his descendants. And thus whereas until now people were drawn and attracted to Avraham’s teachings and influence, now – Avraham feared – he would find himself isolated and separated from other people.

This perspective on Avraham’s condition may perhaps shed light on the Midrash’s depiction of his anxious effort to find guests. In the aftermath of his circumcision, Avraham felt lonely and isolated. He was eager to find people who would enter his tent and his sphere of influence even in his new stage of distinctiveness. And he thus waited outside, anxiously awaiting the opportunity to invite guests.

In this vein, we might also explain the significance of God’s appearance to Avraham in the opening verse of this parasha: “The Lord appeared to him in the plains of Mamrei…” Some commentators understood this verse as an introduction to the story of the three angels; meaning, God appeared to Avraham in the form of three angels whom Avraham thought were wayfarers. Others, however, including Rashi, explained that God appeared to Avraham before the three angels arrived. The significance of this revelation should perhaps be understood in light of Avraham’s condition of anxiety and loneliness. At this moment, when Avraham worried about the repercussions of his berit mila, facing the prospect of isolation and solitude, God appeared to him. It was as if God was saying to Avraham – and to us, his descendants – “When you feel alone, I am with you; when you find yourself abandoned and forlorn, you have Me to rely upon.” God eventually sent the three angels to reassure Avraham, but first, He appeared to him to convey the message that he is never alone. Even though his unique status, signified by the mila, would result in a degree of isolation, he must not fear, because God would always accompany him, stand by his side, and offer him the assistance and protection he needs.

(Based on an article by Rabbi Shmuel Silber)

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Looking for the Good in Sodom

We read in Parashat Vayera of Avraham’s plea on behalf of the wicked city of Sedom which God had decided to annihilate. He asks, “Will [Your] wrath destroy the righteous with the wicked? Perhaps there are fifty righteous people within the city; will [Your] anger destroy and not pardon the city for the sake of the fifty righteous people within it?” (18:23-24).

Avraham here appears to advance two different claims. First, he claims that it would be unjust for God to destroy the entire city, including the small population of righteous people living within it. Then, he argues that the entire city should be spared on account of this small population. These are two separate arguments, and the fact that Avraham combined them in his plea may likely reveal the way he perceived people and the situations he encountered. If, indeed, there were fifty righteous residents in Sedom, then not only should they be spared, but the entire city should be spared, as well, because it did, after all, produce a righteous group of people. Even if the vast majority of the city was evil and corrupt, the small virtuous population should not be discounted or overlooked. The fact that a small pocket of piety could emerge in Sedom testified to a ray of light and kernel of hope, and indicated that the society was not altogether evil. Avraham was not prepared to despair from Sedom as long as the city proved capable of producing a group of pious individuals.

In the end, of course, it was discovered that Sedom did not even have ten righteous people among its population, and thus its fate was sealed. Nevertheless, Avraham’s plea teaches us an important lesson about positivism and recognizing the potential for goodness in the people and things around us. Certainly, there are a small handful of outright evil people and groups of people without any redeeming qualities. But these are the exception. The rule is that nearly all people have at least some degree of goodness within them which testifies to their potential. If Avraham refused to discount a generally corrupt city with a few dozen righteous people, then we should certainly be able to identify the goodness within others even if they display negative qualities. We are to learn from our patriarch to try, as much as possible, to see the potential for goodness within all people, which is the first and most critical step towards allowing them to realize that potential.

(Based on an article by Rav Amnon Bazak)

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Midrashic Canaan and Avraham's Response

The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 39) tells that Avraham traveled about in his home country of Aram, he saw people “going about recklessly, eating and drinking.” He then uttered a prayer that he should not have any portion of that land. Later, upon reaching the border of Canaan, he saw people “engaged in weeding at the time of weeding, and in hoeing at the time of hoeing.” He then prayed for a share of that land, whereupon God promised that the entirety of Canaan is being given to him and his descendants. The Midrash here teaches that Avraham was impressed by the sense of responsibility and work ethic displayed by the people of Canaan, which contrasted sharply with the carefree and mindless lifestyle of the people of Aram.

On the basis of this Midrash, Rav Yehuda Altusky (Hegyonei Yehudi, vol. 5, p. 146) suggested an explanation for Rashi’s famous comments later, in Parashat Vayera (18:4), describing the angels who visited Avraham’s tent. Citing the Midrash, Rashi writes that the angels disguised themselves as members of a tribe that “bow to the dust on their feet,” thus prompting Avraham to offer them water to rinse their feet. Many have raised the question of what exactly it means to worship “dust on their feet.” Rav Altusky suggested reading this description allegorically, as referring to overreliance on agriculture and shepherding. The dust accumulated on the people’s feet symbolized their hard work and long hours in the fields or with the herds. As Avraham noted, the people of Canaan admirably approached their pursuits with responsibility and seriousness. Apparently, however, they went too far, according too much importance to their work, to the point where they could be described as “bowing” to their work rather than to the Almighty. Rav Altusky adds that this might be at least part of the reason why Avraham so warmly welcomed the three wayfarers. While he obviously objected to their “worship” of the “dust on their feet,” he admired and respected their work ethic.

If so, then these two Midrashic passages remind us of the need to admire and respect the positive qualities of even those with views and practices to which we strongly object. Avraham mistook these three angels for idolaters, yet this did not blind him to their virtues which deserve respect. Even as we reject and oppose ideas and actions, we must still identify the admirable characteristics that we can appreciate and seek to emulate.

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Rashi on the Tower of Babel: Limits of Human Capabilities

Walking With God: Spiritual Isolation or Human Engagement?

Tehillim 92: A Song for Shabbat - and for Teshuva?

לא לחפות על עושי עוולה

כנגד הנוצרים

Sara's Anger at Avraham's "Theft"

Avraham's Uplifted Hand

Avraham and the Guests: Combating Isolation

Looking for the Good in Sodom

Midrashic Canaan and Avraham's Response

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