#Noach #תשפב

In honor of the social media crash this week, I'd like to offer you a Facebook-style personality test. Yidden come in different flavors: What kind of Jew are you?

Mind you, I'm not talking about the color of your kippah, the length of your sleeves or your Hashkafa (whatever that means). I'm not even talking about your choice of cuisine. I'm talking about what excites you, what animates you and what drives you in the world of Judaism

In general, I'd like to suggest, there are three primary primary flavors of Jews. Each one exemplified by the emotions in the Jewish calendar. Each Jew, to a certain extent, embodies one of these three – or perhaps a combination.

The Elul Yid: We all know this Jew. We regard them with awe, respect, and sometimes a little cynicism. This is Jew who lives his or her life with the persistent, ever present understanding that Yom HaDin is coming. Every action must be performed meticulously, every mitzvah with alacrity. Time is short, and there is much to be achieved. This Jew holds themselves to the highest standards in mitzvah observance. The Elul Yid holds themselves accountable for everything, and by extension, hold you accountable as well.

The Adar Yid: These Yidden are the most fun always living a life of simcha. The Adar Yid knows that the only way to over come a challenge is to sing, dance and laugh. He or she excels at bringing simcha to others. Every mitzvah is an opportunity, every day a new moment to celebrate. They make joy seem so effortless, you wonder what their secret might be. Sometimes the Adar Yid drives you crazy and you wish you could borrow those rose colored glasses for a moment.

The Av Yid: I used to make fun of the Av Yidden, with their serious demeanor, and kill-joy attitude. Av Yidden are not always easy to be around. But truth is, the Av Yid knows all too well that there is pain in this world, that can only be remedied with sensitivity, compassion and empathy. The Av Yid understands that life is short, and that things often don't work out the way we planned. The Av Yid find comfort and meaning in getting through it together. Most importantly, the Av Yid takes responsibility for the world around them, and lives to make it better.

Think of the members of your family. Who are the Elul, Adar and Av Jews closest to you? If you think about it for a moment, you might be able to assess what kind of Yid you are – or at least the ingredients.

Our calendar contains many hybrid emotions as well. Each month and Yom Tov carries a unique a flavor profile, a bouquet of emotions. By the time the year is complete, we will have engaged every Yid, every emotion, every flavor.

Of course, all except for Mar-Cheshvan. The most boring month of the year. Cheshvan is the sugar-free, gluten-free, flavor-free month of the year. If Tishrei is a five course steak dinner, Cheshvan is unsalted kale chips. (And don't you dare tell me that anyone actually enjoys kale!)

But for me, the monotony of Cheshvan is a personal embarrassment. My birthday is in Cheshvan. Growing up, it was a major disappointment, especially considering that my older brother’s birthday is on the 18th of Elul.

Chai Elul might be the most celebrated Jewish Birthday in the world today. It's the birthday of the Baal Shem Tov, as well as the Alter Rebbe of Chabad. It’s also the Yahrzeit of the Maharal. In short, it’s quite illustrious. Cheshvan, in comparison, is quite literally the most boring, tedious, and unexciting of all months. It's the epitome of uneventful. Day after long day of the same. Week after week of routine, habits and monotony.

And it begs the question: Couldn’t the Torah have spread the love a little more evenly?

The Bnei Yissaschar explains, however, that this month, more than any other, contains within it the greatest promise, as well as the greatest challenges.

The Medrash (ילקוט שמעוני מלכים סימן קפד) explains that Chodesh Mar-Cheshvan is the month in which we will one day rebuild and rededicate the Beis Hamikdash. But the Navi (מלכים ב׳ יז:כא) tells us that it's also the month that our people became tragically and irreparably fractured. It's the month that Yerovam ben Nevat split off to form the Northern kingdom following the death of Shlomo HaMelech.

What is the source of the great potential of this month? The answer might best be found in understanding Parshas Noach.

Noach is a polarizing figure in Chazal. On the one hand, the Torah calls him a tzadik, but the pasuk then qualifies, “in his generation”.

Rashi, famously notes this dispute: Was Noach a tzadik only when compared to the evil doers of his generation, or perhaps in spite of them?

This dispute bothered me for a long time, it is unlike Chazal to attempt to defame a someone who the Torah calls a Tzadik. Give him the benefit of the doubt!

But, of course, if Chazal saw within Noach a complex, and nuanced person. Noach is us. Noach is the Cheshvan Yid.

Allow me to explain. Noach grows up in a world of moral decay and depravity. Noach, alone, realizes the decrepitness of such society, and is thus chosen by Hashem to build an ark, so that life may be spared.

For over a century, Noach builds and builds, fending off ridicule, excommunication and social ostracism. Yet he perseveres. When the flood waters descend, he, along with his family, are tasked with taking care of the needs of every animal – a job he does with compassion and dedication.

And then the flood is over, and Noach steps out into a new world, free of depravity, cleansed from the mistakes of the past, and is given carte blanch to build the world as he sees fit.

But here begins Noach's real challenge. His Cheshvan has arrived, and the world is open to him. He no longer needs to act in reaction to, but now proactively. There are no cues, no foils, not problems. Noach is handed the blank check of a brave new world.

It is in this wide open space that he plants a vineyard, harvests his grapes and gets drunk. With nothing to react to, Noach is lost. He knows how to be an Elul tzadik, a Tishrei tzadik. But the real challenge is Cheshvan.

In 1978, Rav Soloveitchik delivered a lecture at M.I.T, later printed in Tradition, as “Catharsis”. In that essay, he develops the idea of the heroism of normative life. He explains that living according the values and details of Halacha with its demands and relentlessness is heroic.

“It is less spectacular than the death of an Achiles; yet it is more heroic, more redeeming, because it is performed in humility and in the hush of a dark night of loneliness.”

In essence, the Rav is speaking about the Cheshvan Yid. The world of limitless untapped potential lies in the slow burn; the steady methodical transformation of ourselves and the world around us.

So Hashem asks us now: What kind of Jew are you proactively? What fills you time and fuels your life during the long nights of Cheshvan? The answer to this question is perhaps the most challenging of our lives. If given the time, given the chance, given the blank slate, who will we become? Who do we wish to become?

This is the month to build the Beis HaMikdash of our lives. To add our bricks, to make our changes. Hashem should help us to make this the greatest month of our lives.

A student of Reb Yechezkel of Kozmir once got a job as a rabbi. Before he began his new position he went to his Rebbe to get a Bracha that he should be successful, and that people shouldn't give him a hard time.

Reb Yechezkel opened a Chumash to parshas Noach, and read:

אֵלֶּה תּוֹלְדֹת נֹחַ נֹחַ אִישׁ צַדִּיק תָּמִים הָיָה בְּדֹרֹתָיו אֶת הָאֱלֹהִים הִתְהַלֶּךְ נֹחַ

This is the history of the generations of Noah. Noah was a righteous man, whole, among the people of his time. Noah walked with God.

He then turned to Rashi, who writes:

Some of our Rabbis explain this pasuk to Noach's credit: he was righteous even in his generation; it follows that had he lived in a generation of righteous people he would have been even more righteous owing to the force of good example. Others, however, explain it to his discredit: in comparison with his own generation he was accounted righteous, but had he lived in the generation of Abraham he would have been accounted as of no importance.

“Apparently,” said the Rebbe, “even for a person who the Torah says is completely righteous, a צַדִּיק תָּמִים, at the moment they have a position of importance there will be people that approve, and people that disapprove.”

It's an all-to-true observation of leadership.

Of course, attempting to resolve the ambiguity in the Pasuk is a fair endeavor. When the Torah tells us that Noach was a tzadik in “his generation”, does that add to his righteousness or detract from it?

Let's consider: The Torah clearly tells us that Noach was a tzadik. He walked with Hashem. He alone is saved from the flood; he is the father of the new world. That's pretty good! And since when do we have to look so intensely to figure out whether or not he was such a tzadik?!

Drashos and commentaries throughout the ages have dealt with this problem; all suggesting that his flaws and faults make the ambiguity of his righteousness obvious.

Some have argued that Noach's end, getting drunk and becoming an “Ish Adama” call his tzadik status into question. Others argue that his lack of obvious entreating on behalf of his generation preclude him from being an absolute tzadik. Yet others argue that his failure to engage in the world after the flood is his downfall.

There's a lot to say about Noach. A casual read of the parsha reveals that he is a complex character. The questions remains unresolved. Which one is correct? Is Noach really a tzadik? Is he just the best of a bad generation? Which one is true?

The answer, of course, is that it's complicated. Because summing up, judging and evaluating a person is always complicated. Noach is a devout follower of the word of Hashem; he is impervious to the pressures of his generation. He single handedly builds an ark and sustains all life for a year, with immense self sacrifice. Does he fail? Sure. Does he succeed? Undoubtably! So which one is it?

Perhaps our estimation of Noach says much more about us than it does about him.

And the same is true about everyone we meet. There is no one in our lives, no-one ever, that isn't a complex amalgamation of שבח and גנאי – of praise and denigration. The story of Noach simply asks us: Which do you see?

The Toras Chaim of Kosov notes that Rashi himself has an opinion as to which perspective is correct. He notes that when Rashi informs us of this duality, he writes:

יש מרבותינו דורשים לשבח... ויש דורשים לגנאי Some of our teachers explain his praise, and some explain his denigration.

Our teachers explain how to praise, others, do the opposite. The question that Rashi is posing is: who is your Rebbe? Is your role model the cynic? The scoffer? The critic? Or is your Rebbe the optimist? The humanist? The one who is looking for the best in other people? Both approaches are accurate, to an extent. And the choice of which perspective to highlight is open to us all.

And so Rashi tells us: Our teachers are the ones that say Noach is a tzadik.

This orientation towards people is baked into the most lasting impression of the Parsha: The Rainbow. The Torah tells us that the rainbow is a sign to remind us of Hashem's promise not to destroy the world for our sins. Indeed, in perfectly righteous generations, rainbows were never seen.

But the schism between how the rainbow appears, and the reason for it, is difficult to navigate. Hashem shows us a rainbow as Mussar, as rebuke. But what a strange sign of rebuke! A beautiful paining in the sky is hardly a fitting reminder of our downward spiral.

Perhaps like any good parent or teacher, when Hashem wants to give us Mussar, He chooses to show us the beauty of the world, the majesty of His creations. The rainbow is a reminder that we should live לשבח – with praise – it's the symbol of positive, colorful growth. It's a hug, it's not a finger wag. Ultimately, Hashem Himself is the Rebbe who is דורש לשבח – who explains how wonderful we are and could be.

A number of months ago, Sivan Rahav Meir shared the following story from Avinoam Hirsch which illustrates this point beautifully:

“At school, I gave a certificate of excellence to one student, but by mistake I sent a notification about it to the mother of another student: ‘Bravo! Your child received a certificate of excellence!’. By the time I realized my mistake and tried to delete it, I already got an answer: ‘You do not understand what your message did for me. It is the happiest thing that has happened to me this week’. I realized that her child is going to go home without really having a certificate of excellence, which he really did not deserve. That day I had even asked him to leave the classroom because he did not stop disturbing the class.

I went to him and told him what had happened, and then said: ‘Listen, you are the first student to whom I am going to loan a certificate of excellence. You do not deserve it, but I believe that your behavior in the upcoming week will justify it’. When he heard that I told his mother that he got a certificate of excellence, his eyes lit up and he said: ‘Just last night my mother cried that I make her so sad, after she talked with my English teacher. Thank you. I will not let you down’.

Throughout the following week, this naughty student, who had always ruined the classes, turned into an angel. The school’s educational consultant asked me if his mother started giving him Ritalin, and I answered: ‘No. He is on a much stronger stuff which burns inside of him. It is called trust’.”

There is always the option to denigrate, to put people down. But the option to lift each other up is always always present. Hashem should help us to live לשבח – to learn from Him to see the best. Those who believe it should be our teachers and we should become such teachers to world around us.