Care for all

When we think about the calamity of the flood, we associate it with Noah’s ark. More than the events that precipitated the event, pun intended, it Is Noah and his family that we think about.   The Zohar elaborates on this feeling by stating that we call the flood Noah’s flood.  Why? Because when the decree came from G-d that the world would be destroyed there is no protestation on Noah’s end. And for good reason.  He spent 120 years exhorting his fellow human beings to clean up their act and instead they mocked him.  It is understandable that he would give up on them. Nonetheless, the Zohar finds fault in Noah’s attitude to the destruction of his fellow human beings via his lack of protestation.

                Contrast this behavior with Abraham.  When the angel notified Abraham about the intention to destroy Sodom, Abraham immediately sets into action in protestation.  How could it be that G-d would destroy a city when there are righteous people in it? This is not the way divine justice should work. This level of concern is a fantastic level.  But, the Zohar points out that even this is not enough.

                What lacks in Avraham is that he is not concerned for the evil people of Sodom. He is concerned only for the righteous among them.  He is concerned also for how this would make G-d look. That is not big enough.  The ideal, according to the Zohar, is to be like Moses.  When the Jewish people sank during the episode of the golden calf, Moses didn’t ask G-d to save only those who were not involved in the debacle.  He asked G-d to save everyone, righteous and evil alike.  This is the ideal we are looking for, to care for every human being, even those not currently in line with our way of thinking that they should develop to a more ethical path.  And this isn’t  considered going above and beyond for if one doesn’t do it, it could well be that the punishment will be attached to their name. 

Paradox of self-sacrifice

                Two of the main characters in the Torah, Noah and Moses, have the opposite life trajectory.  The midrash[1] highlights the difference as follows.  Moses is described initially as an Egyptian man.  This is not surprising, of course, given that he grew up in the house of Pharoh.  Nonetheless, it is not a compliment given Egyptian values at the time of both idolatry and enslavement. However, Moses sheds this description over time and by the end of the Torah he is described as a man of G-d[2].  This is a remarkable turnaround and gives us an inkling into what type of internal work Moses did throughout his life.  In contrast, Noah is not so lucky. He starts of as a ‘righteous man’ when we first greet him at the beginning of the parsha but he then becomes a man of the earth after he departs from the ark.  While the ground has some admirable qualities, generally an association with the earth is a sign of an existence overly identified with physicality.  What happened?  It is not entirely clear given that Noah seems to do G-d’s bidding throughout.  

                One commentary explains that the difference between Noah and Moses was in the way they approached their life’s work.[3]  There are people who approach their life as a lonely mission towards personal actualization.  The people around them are a distraction in their achieving personal excellence.  In contrast, there are people that decide to dedicate themselves’ to the well – being of the community.  This comes at a tremendous self-sacrifice as their personal time is cut by all the responsibilities.  This sacrifice is real and can result in diminished wisdom.  However, the purpose of life is the latter according to the midrash. 

                Moses ended his life at a higher level of completion than Noah.  Why? When the nation of Israel faced destruction in the episode of the golden calf, Moses went to bat for them and even told G-d to erase him from the book if Israel is not to be saved. In contrast, Noah didn’t inspire his generation to improve or inspire G-d to save his generation. He went into his own ark and saved himself and his immediate family.  That root of self-centeredness, even though it came with good intentions was his downfall later on in life. Moses, in contrast, had a root of otherness that blossomed throughout his life and led to his greatness. While it may come at a personal cost at times, we have to ask our-self, what are we here for in the end?  If the answer is for the well-being of the community we may find our self paradoxically more elevated.

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[1] Midrash Rabbah 36

[2] Devarim 33

[3] Meshech Chochma