Parshah Summary – P’shat
The parshah opens with God telling Avram to leave his birthplace and travel to a land where his descendants will become a great nation. So, Avram and his wife, Sarai, accompanied by their nephew Lot, journey to the land of Canaan. Avram builds an altar there, but a famine forces them to flee to Egypt, where Avram and Sarai present themselves as brother and sister, out of fear that Avram would be killed on account of Sarai’s great beauty. Sarai is taken to Pharaoh’s palace, but a plague prevents the Egyptian king from approaching her. Pharaoh then somehow understands that Sarai is Avram’s wife, and he reunites her with Avram, giving them gold, silver and cattle.
When they return to the land of Canaan, Lot separates from Avram and settles in the evil city of Sodom, where he falls captive when the mighty armies of King Kedarla-omer and his three allies conquer the five cities of the Sodom Valley. Avram sets out with a small band to rescue his nephew, defeats the four kings, and is blessed by Malkitzedek, the king of Salem (Jerusalem). Avram seals a strange covenant with God involving a vision of fire descending and moving between severed animal pieces, in which the exile and persecution (galut) of Avram’s descendants is foretold, and their eventual return to the Holy Land is affirmed. Still childless ten years after their arrival in the Land, Sarai tells Avram to marry her maidservant Hagar. Hagar conceives, but becomes insolent toward her mistress, and then flees when Sarai treats her harshly. An angel convinces her to return, and tells her that her son will also become a great nation. Ishmael is born in Avram’s eighty-sixth year. Thirteen years later, God changes Avram’s name to Avraham (Abraham, meaning “father of multitudes”), and Sarai’s name to Sarah (“princess”). A child is promised to them whom they should call Yitzhak (Isaac, “will laugh”). Abraham is instructed to circumcise himself and his descendants as a sign of the covenant. Abraham does so for himself and all the males of his household.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
One time, when Rabbi Yisrael of Rizhyn was traveling through the city of Sanok, several opponents of the Hassidic movement, the mitnagdim, came to him and complained: “In our congregation we pray at dawn, and after that we sit wrapped in tallis and tefilin (prayer shawl and phylacteries) and learn a chapter of the Mishnah. Not so with you hasidim! You pray way after the set time has passed, and when you're finished praying, you sit drink schnapps. And you are called ‘devout’ and we are called the ‘adversaries!’”
Rabbi Yisrael’s assistant laughed when he heard their complaint and retorted: “The prayers of you mitnagdim are cold and lifeless, like a corpse. And when you sit and guard a corpse, you must study some Mishnah as is the custim. But when we Hasidim have done our prayers, our hearts glow and are warm like one who is alive, and whoever is alive must drink some schnapps!” The rabbi was silent for a moment and then added, “Jesting aside, the truth of the matter is this: ever since the Temple was destroyed, we offer prayers instead of sacrifices. And just as the sacrifices in ancient times were disqualified if one’s heart was not pure, so it is with prayer. That is why the yetzer hara (evil urge) tries to confuse one who prays with all kinds of distracting thoughts. But, the hasidim outsmart the yetzer hara with a counter-strategy: after praying, they sit and drink and wish one another l'hayim! To life! Each tells the other what is burdening their hearts, and then they say to one another, ‘May Hashem grant your desire!” And since our sages teach that prayers can be said in any language whatsoever, this toasting and speaking to one another while drinking is itself a kind of prayer. But all the yetzer hara sees is friends drinking together, so it stops bothering them!” There is something magical about friends holding up a glass of some fermented beverage, looking at one another, saying some formula of affirmation, then drinking. L’hayim! Nearly every culture has its version of this practice. In Judaism, it has become deeply ritualized as the act of sanctification – Kiddush – for Shabbat and Festivals. But even without any overtly spiritual intention, the act of raising a glass has an elevating effect that even the most materialistic person is unlikely to escape. Something about the receptivity and openness of the vessel, filled with intoxicating, joy producing substance, raised up in well-wishing affirmation with friends… it is indeed a kind of kiddush regardless of the context. Another nearly universal practice with a similar effect is the giving of flowers. Like the glass filled with wine, the flower too conveys a sense of openness, grace, and beauty that expresses the same well-wishing affirmation when offered to another. The Zohar links together the images of the flower and the cup of wine: רִבִּי חִזְקִיָּה פָּתַח, כְּתִיב, כְּשׁוֹשַׁנָּה בֵּין הַחוֹחִים מָאן שׁוֹשַׁנָּה, דָּא כְּנֶסֶת יִשְׂרָאֵל Rabbi Hizkiyah opened, “It is written, (in Shir Hashirim) Like a rose among thorns’. What is a rose? It is the Assembly of Israel. - Zohar, Haqdamat Sefer HaZohar [Introduction] It goes on to say that the rose is the cup of blessing which should rest on five fingers, just as the rose rests on five sturdy leaves that represent what are called the five gates… meaning, the five senses. So according to the Zohar, the flower and the cup are the community of Israel, but on a more immediate level, they are actually representations of our own bodies. Just as the rose is filled with nectar and the cup is filled with wine, there is a sweet blessedness when we fill our bodies with the light of consciousness. How do we do that? By bringing our consciousness more intensely into the “five gates” – that is, present moment awareness through the five senses – this is meditation. כְּשׁוֹשַׁנָּה בֵּין הַחוֹחִים – Like a rose among thorns… In other words, there are challenges – “thorns” – which can block the “wine” of consciousness from flowing into the “cup” of the body. The three main “thorns” are: fear, desire and excessive thinking. There is a hint of this in Avram’s plea with Hashem that he should have some assurance that his offspring will come to possess the land: וַיֹּאמַ֑ר אֲדֹנָ֣י יֱהוִ֔ה בַּמָּ֥ה אֵדַ֖ע כִּ֥י אִֽירָשֶֽׁנָּה׃ וַיֹּ֣אמֶר אֵלָ֗יו קְחָ֥ה לִי֙ עֶגְלָ֣ה מְשֻׁלֶּ֔שֶׁת וְעֵ֥ז מְשֻׁלֶּ֖שֶׁת וְאַ֣יִל מְשֻׁלָּ֑שׁ וְתֹ֖ר וְגוֹזָֽל׃ And he said, “O Divine Lord, how shall I know that I am to possess it?” The Divine answered him, “Bring Me a three-year-old heifer, a three-year-old she-goat, a three-year-old ram, a turtledove, and a young bird.” - Bereisheet (Genesis) 15:8, 9 So each of these animals represent a “thorn” so to speak. The “heifer” is fear, as hinted in this verse describing Avram’s vision: וְהִנֵּ֥ה אֵימָ֛ה חֲשֵׁכָ֥ה גְדֹלָ֖ה נֹפֶ֥לֶת עָלָֽיו׃ And behold, a great dark dread descended upon him… -15:12 The “goat” is excess thinking, expressed as Avram’s demand for assurance: בַּמָּ֥ה אֵדַ֖ע... By what can I know… The “ram” is desire, his preoccupation with a future goal: כִּ֥י אִֽירָשֶֽׁנָּה – that I am to possess it? The animals are then each cut in half, hinting that we need to free ourselves from these thorns, these inner tyrannies of the mind and heart. But… וְאֶת־הַצִפֹּ֖ר לֹ֥א בָתָֽר…– He didn’t cut the bird… The two wings of the bird represent the positive counterparts to desire and fear, which are love and discipline. Both are necessary – discipline provides the regular structure to engage our practice, while love is the actual content of the practice. The fluttering of both wings together represents the harnessing of the movement of the mind, directing intention – kavanah – toward the Divine goal. In other words, while the animals represent the tyranny of the heart and mind, the birds represent the redirection of the heart and mind into prayer. The idea is of course not to destroy the heart and mind, but only to destroy their tyranny by realizing our mastery over them. Then, you can use their energy to discover and reveal your Divine essence, so that the “wine” of consciousness fills the “cup” of your body. When that happens, the awareness becomes like a fire, illuminating the five senses and burning up attachments to the “thorns” of fear and desire, revealing their Divine root: וַיְהִ֤י הַשֶּׁ֙מֶשׁ֙ בָּ֔אָה וַעֲלָטָ֖ה הָיָ֑ה וְהִנֵּ֨ה וְלַפִּ֣יד אֵ֔שׁ אֲשֶׁ֣ר עָבַ֔ר בֵּ֖ין הַגְּזָרִ֥ים הָאֵֽלֶּה The sun had set; it was dark and, behold! A flaming torch passed between the parts… - 15:17 This is the illumination that descends and frees us from the tyranny of the inner thorns. How do we invite that illumination? They key is bringing the fire of our attentive presence to the truth of our experience in this moment, and in this attentiveness, the flower of blessing blossoms on its own – this is the miracle of Presence, accessed through meditation.
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Parshah Summary – P’shat
The parshah opens with the description of Noah as an ish tzaddik tamim, a righteous and pure person in his generation, and God expresses displeasure to Noah with the world which has become consumed by violence and corruption. God tells Noah that a flood is coming, and that he should build an ark to float upon the water, saving Noah and his family, along with members of each animal species. Rain falls for 40 days and nights, and the waters churn for 150 days more before calming and beginning to recede. When the ark settles on Mount Ararat, Noah dispatches a raven, and then a series of doves, “to see if the waters have subsided from the face of the earth.” When the ground dries completely—exactly one year after the onset of the Flood—God tells Noah to exit the ark and begin repopulating the earth.
Noah builds an altar and offers sacrifices. God swears never again to destroy humanity because of their deeds, and sets the rainbow in the sky as a testimony of the new covenant with human beings. God also instructs Noah regarding the sacredness of life: murder is explicitly forbidden, and while humans are permitted to eat the meat of animals, they are forbidden to eat flesh or blood taken from a living animal. Noah plants a vineyard, makes wine, and becomes drunk. Two of Noah’s sons, Shem and Yaphet, are blessed for covering up their father, while his third son, Ham, is punished for behaving inappropriately in the presence of his drunk and naked father, though his precise offense is not explicitly described. The descendants of Noah remain a single people, with a single language and culture, for ten generations. Then they try to build a great tower to symbolize their own invincibility; God confuses their language so that “one does not comprehend the tongue of the other,” causing them to abandon their project and disperse across the face of the earth, splitting into seventy nations. The parshah concludes with a chronology of the ten generations from Noah to Abram (who becomes Abraham), and the latter’s journey from his birthplace of Ur Casdim to Haran, on the way to the land of Canaan.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
אֵ֚לֶּה תּוֹלְדֹ֣ת נֹ֔חַ נֹ֗חַ אִ֥ישׁ צַדִּ֛יק תָּמִ֥ים הָיָ֖ה בְּדֹֽרֹתָ֑יו אֶת־הָֽאֱלֹ–הִ֖ים הִֽתְהַלֶּךְ־נֹֽחַ: These are the offspring of Noah; Noah was a righteous person, perfect in his generation; Noah walked with God.- Bereisheet (Genesis) 6:9
What does it mean that “Noah walked with God?” There are two kinds of Action – what we might call “Creative/Responsive/Relational” and what we might call “Functional/Mechanical.” Functional/Mechanical is not for its own sake; it is a means to an end. Creative/Responsive/Relational is for its own sake; it is living life in the moment. Life in the moment is a kaleidoscope of qualities, of fleeting experiences. Naturally, when a particularly delicious or interesting moment arises, we may want to hold on to its qualities, to capture them in some way. But how? Is it possible to preserve the experiences that come to us in the fleeting moment?
To this question comes an ingenious answer: art. It is through art that the ineffable qualities of experience can be put into some kind of form, to be saved from the flood-waters of time and visited again and again. In this sense, “Noah’s ark,” which saves all life from the flood, can actually be seen as a metaphor for art. In reference to Noah’s building of the ark, it says: וַיַּ֖עַשׂ נֹ֑חַ כְּכֹ֥ל אֲשֶׁר־צִוָּ֖הוּ יְהֹ–וָֽה׃– Noah did just as Hashem instructed him… (Bereisheet 7:5) So in the metaphorical sense, Noah is an artist, but not one of mere personal expression. Rather, his salvific artistry emerges from a Divine instruction; it is a mitzvah. But the mitzvah of art is not that of music or painting or sculpture; it is the art of living. Our canvas is this moment—our words, our actions, even our thoughts. The Baal Shem Tov taught that the word for ark--tevah—also means “word,” giving a deeper meaning to God’s instruction to Noah: בֹּֽא־אַתָּ֥ה... אֶל־הַתֵּבָ֑ה – “Enter the ark…” This hints at this practice of fully entering the words we speak, entering the deeds we do, so that our words and deeds become temples of Presence—expressions of No-am—that is, Divine beauty, sweetness, pleasantness, grace. This is why, as Shabbat ends, we pray: וִיהִי נֹֽעַם אֲדֹנָי אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ עָלֵֽינוּ וּמַעֲשֵׂה יָדֵֽינוּ כּוֹנְנָה עָלֵֽינוּ – May the Divine sweetness be (V’hi No-am) upon us; may the work of our hands be established… As we move from rest into work, we ask that our actions themselves become art; we ask that the No-am, the “Divine sweetness,” infuses the work of our hands. How can this happen? Part of the key is the practice of Shabbat. On Shabbat we cease creating; we rest. And in that sacred rest, our artfulness of doing is renewed. But there is a deeper level—not only resting from action, but resting within action. And this is the meaning of the verse: אֶת־הָֽאֱלֹהִ֖ים הִֽתְהַלֶּךְ־נֹֽחַ׃ – Noah walked with God… The “work of our hands,” maaseh yadeinu, is Creative/ Responsive/ Relational, but the “work of our feet” is repetitive—walking, cleaning, moving, lying down, standing up: ordinary, Functional/Mechanical activity. Usually, we wander through these motions unconsciously, lost in thought, dull and habitual. But the secret of “walking with God” is to bring our awareness into the simple and repetitive, to sense the Divine Presence in each step, in each breath, in this body that acts. This is the deeper Shabbat—available at any time, in our simple movements. And here lies the key in Noah’s name--Noakh—which means “rest.” To embody Noakh is to let the thinking mind rest in the living awareness of the senses—in the sounds, the scents, the textures of this moment; this is meditation. And from Noakh—rest—emerges Noam—Divine Sweetness. When we rest our awareness in our simple, Functional/Mechanical movements, rather than wandering in the alleyways of thought, then we can make our Creative/ Responsive/Relational actions into more beautiful manifestations of No-am, b’ezrat Hashem. In this time of Parshat Noakh, may that Divine Sweetness be upon us— V’hi No-am aleinu—the work of our hands, the walking of our feet, the Art of Living Awake…
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