October 24th: No’ach
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
A number of years ago, I got involved in an interesting argument. It was in Minyanaires, our monthly program for 6th and 7th Grade students and their parents, and we were discussing the familiar quotation from Shimon HaTzaddik (Simon the Righteous) in Pirke Avot 1.2:
Al sh’loshah d’varim ha’olam omed: Al ha-Torah, v’al ha-Avodah, v’al G’milut Chasadim.
“On three things does the world stand: on Torah, on Worship, and on Deeds of Loving Kindness.”
The argument started when one of the parents—someone born and raised in Israel—corrected my translation. Avodah does not mean Worship, he explained. Avodah means work. He was sort of correct.
Avodah is a Hebrew word for work, and it is common in modern Hebrew. However, in the ancient Biblical and Talmudic world, Avodah/Work was used in the specific context of the work done by the Kohanim/Priests in sacrificial worship. The Biblical word for daily work is M’lachah, and one can see this word used in the Torah’s prohibitions of work / m’lachah on Sabbaths and Holy Days—days on which Avodah/Worship Work is commanded. There were thus two kinds of work: Avodah, the work done by the Priest in worship services, and M’lachah, the work done by craftsmen, farmers, and other workers.
So, in the context of explaining what Shimon HaTzaddik meant, I was correct. He was emphasizing the importance of Torah study (the Rabbis’ job), Worship (the Priests’ job—supported by the regular Israelites), and Deeds of Loving Kindness (everybody’s job!).
However, the Israeli parent was also correct. He knew from speaking modern Hebrew all his life that the word Avodah is used in modern Hebrew for all kinds of work. And, as a kid growing up in Israel, he had been exposed to a particular reinterpretation of that ancient word—one important to modern Zionism.
A.D. Gordon was one of the philosophical fathers of Zionism, and he believed that building a Jewish State was more than just a way to provide Jews safety from anti-Semitism. He believed that the physical labor in/on Eretz Yisrael would benefit Jews spiritually. The Jewish problem, as he saw it, was that Jews had been alienated from the land in Europe. Banned from land ownership for well over a thousand years, we had been forced to earn our livelihoods from “un-natural” labors—labors not connected to the land. Much like the ancient Greek myth of Antaeus, our separation/alienation from the earth had left us weak and in need of spiritual and cultural rejuvenation. Working the Land (especially our homeland of Israel) would reconnect us to the earth and feed our souls—as well as build up a Jewish State. Many early Zionists followed Gordon’s thinking and saw their labor as a spiritual endeavor—indeed as a modern version of the ancient Avodah/Worship Work. Note how the Labor Zionist folk song, Zum Gali Gali explains the dynamic:
“Hechalutz lema’an avodah. Avodah lema’an hechalutz.”
“The pioneering settlement of the Land requires work,
and that work benefits the Pioneers themselves.”
And there is this poignantly phrased Zionist motto:
“Livnot ul’hibanot!” To build and to be built.
The purpose of Zionism is to build the Land of Israel, and the builders themselves will be spiritually rebuilt by the work.
Shimon HaTzaddik (circa 200 BCE) lived in a world where the Temple was still operating, and thus he spoke of the value of that kind of Work/Worship. However, in the Zionist movement, the ancient proverb had been adapted to reflect the modern Avodah to which the Labor Zionists dedicated themselves: building Zion was their holy work. On three things does the world stand: on Torah, on the sacred labor of working and reclaiming Eretz Yisrael, and on Deeds of Lovingkindness.
In other words, our Minyanaires argument was one where both sides were right!
The connection to the story of Noah (this week’s Torah portion) lies in a detail from the aftermath of the Great Flood. In Genesis 8, when Noah, his family, and all the animals emerge from the ark, we have one of the earliest Biblical mentions of Avodah/Sacrificial Worship:
“Then Noah built an altar to the Lord and, taking of every clean animal and every clean bird, he offered burnt offerings on the altar. The Lord smelled the pleasing odor, and the Lord said, ‘Never again will I doom the earth because of humans…’” (Genesis 8.20-21)
It was common knowledge in the ancient Near East that people were created to offer sacrifices from which the gods got sustenance. Thus, in the Babylonian version of the Great Flood Story (in The Gilgamesh Epic), the gods regret killing all the humans because there is no one left to feed them. So, when Utnapishtim (the “Noah” character) comes out of his big boat and immediately offers sacrifices, the hungry gods “hover around the cooking meat like flies.”
The similarities with our version of the story are striking, but so are the differences. While the Babylonian gods send the Flood because people are too noisy, the Lord God’s complaint is human immorality: “The earth became corrupt and was filled with lawlessness.” (Genesis 6.11) And while the Babylonians thought that their gods got sustenance from the greasy smoke of the barbecuing meat, our version has the Lord God just enjoying the aroma. As the Jewish understanding of sacrificial worship developed, the idea was that the aroma of the cooking meat attracted God’s Presence—and, with God present, we could then offer our prayers of praise, thanks, and petition.
Judaism has changed over the millennia; we have not done animal sacrifices for almost 2000 years. However, we still work at attracting God’s Presence—drawing the Lord’s attention with our piety, kavannah (prayerful intentions), and good deeds.
Building a better world; drawing God close: both kinds of work can be holy.