The Parasha says: “The earth became corrupt before Hashem and the earth filled with violence. When Hashem saw how corrupt the earth was, for all flesh had corrupted its ways on earth, Hashem said to Noach, “I have decided to put an end to all flesh, for the earth is filled with lawlessness because of them: I am about to destroy them with the earth. Make yourself an Ark of gopher wood; make it an ark with compartments and cover it inside and out with pitch.” (Bereishis 6:11-14) After people could live as they wished, a scant ten generations after Man was created from the earth, Mankind had lost its privilege of living upon it. The reason being that earth became corrupt and perverse. Rashi reveals that corruption refers to idolatry and acts of lewdness. Chamas, violence, refers to theft and strong-arming of people’s money. These three sins led to the downfall of Mankind; however, their fate was sealed only because of theft. The lesson taught is: While Hashem is willing to forgo vengeance for His own Honor or Holiness and did not decide to destroy the world for the first two sins. Thus, Hashem is unforgiving when people harm each other. This is a striking lesson not only about Hashem’s patience and tolerance, but about the great respect He has for human life and dignity! The Midrash [B”R 30:7] informs us that during the 120 years it took to Noach to build the ark, he planted cedar trees, and when they were fully grown, he cut them down to use their wood for the construction of the Ark. The people asked him, “Why are you doing this?” Noach told them, “Hashem said, that He is going to bring a Flood upon the whole world”. They said to him, “If a flood comes, it shall come only on the house of Noach”. We need to understand why the people of his generation felt that it was Noach who deserved to be eliminated by the Flood? The Zohar tells us that after Hashem informed Noach that he and his children would be rescued, as stated in the Verse “Behold, I am about to bring the Flood-waters… and I will blot out all existence that I have made from upon the face of the earth… but I will establish my covenant with you and you shall enter the ark…”, he then failed to beseech Hashem’s mercy on behalf of the rest of mankind, and therefore they were all destroyed. Noach’s letdown proves he failed to comprehend the message Hashem hinted in the Verse; People’s wellbeing and dignity is more important to Hashem’s Eyes than His own Honor. This is something that Mordechai warned Esther about when she refused to advocate for her people, and subsequently told her: “Do not imagine that you will be able to be safe in the King’s palace any more than the rest of the Jews. For if you persist in keeping silent at a time like this, relief and deliverance will come to the Jews from some other place, while you and your father’s house will perish”. The Talmud [Taanis 11a] clearly cautions us from behaving in this manner, and says as follows; The Rabbis taught: “At a time when the Jewish People are steeped in distress and one of them separates himself from the community and does not share in their pain, the two ministering angels that accompany a person come and place their hands on his head and say, This person who has separated himself from the community , shall not witness the consolation of the community when they will be delivered from their affliction.” It was additionally taught: “At a time when the community is steeped in distress, a person should not say: I will go to my house to eat and drink, and peace be upon my soul… rather one should endure along with the community… and whoever suffers along with the community will merit and witness its consolation.” The Talmud [Makkos 11a] cautions us in this regard as well. The Mishnah there tells us that since an inadvertent killer must go into exile and may only go free upon the death of the Kohen Gadol, therefore the mothers of the Kohanim Gedolim would generously supply the exiles with food and clothing, so that they would not pray for the Kohen Gadol to die. The Gemara infers from this Mishnah that if the exiles would have indeed prayed for the death of the Kohen Gadol, he would actually have died. The Gemara asks why would he die just because the exiles prayed for his death? aren’t these prayers an undeserved curse which should not come upon the one at whom they are directed? The Gemara replies; it is a just reward for their failure to beseech Hashem for mercy that inadvertent killings should not happen; and because they did not do so, the curse is somewhat deserved. We can now understand that Noach as the leader of the generation had the duty to pray for the wellbeing of the people. Hence, the Zohar informs us, that Noach too was supposed to perish had he not find favor to the eyes of Hashem. The following story illustrates this lesson beautifully: Rabbi Israel Meir Kagan (1838-1933), the “Chafetz Chaim” About 30 years ago, an American rabbi visiting Miami, Florida gave a lecture on the life and accomplishments of the famed “Chafetz Chaim”. He described the life of the great sage who lived a humble life as a shopkeeper in the village of Radin, Poland, yet was recognized throughout the Jewish world as a great scholar, tzaddik and leader. There was another story the rabbi wanted to tell, but he hesitated, for he only knew part of it. As he stood at the lectern, he thought for a moment and then decided that he would tell it anyway. He rationalized that even an unfinished story about the Chafetz Chaim would have a meaningful message. He began to relate an incident about a teenage boy in the Chafetz Chaim’s Yeshiva who was found smoking a cigarette on the sacred day of Shabbos. The faculty and student body were shocked, and some of the faculty felt that the boy should be expelled. However, when the Chafetz Chaim heard the story, he asked that the boy be brought to his home. At this point, the rabbi interrupted the narrative and said, “I don’t know what the Chafetz Chaim said to the boy. I only know that they were together for a few minutes. I would give anything to know what he said to this student, for I am told that the boy never desecrated the Shabbos again. How wonderful it would be if we could relay that message — whatever it was — to others, in order to encourage them in their observance of Shabbos.” The rabbi then continued with his lecture. After his talk, the hall emptied of everyone except for one elderly man, who remained in his seat, alone with his thoughts. From the distance, it seemed he was trembling, as if he was either crying or suffering from chills. The rabbi walked over to the elderly man and asked him, “Is anything wrong?” The man responded, “Where did you hear that story of the cigarette on Shabbos?” He did not look up and was still shaken. “I really don’t know,” answered the rabbi. “I heard it a while ago and I don’t even remember who told it to me.” The man looked up at the rabbi and said softly, “I was that boy.” He then asked the rabbi to go outside, and as the two walked together, he told the rabbi the following story: “This incident occurred in the 1920’s when the Chafetz Chaim was in his eighties. I was terrified to have to go into his house and face him. But when I did go into his home, I looked around with disbelief at the poverty in which he lived. It was unimaginable to me that a man of his stature would be satisfied to live in such surroundings. “Suddenly he was in the room where I was waiting. He was remarkably short. At that time, I was a teenager and he only came up to my shoulders. He took my hand and clasped it tenderly in both of his. He brought my hand in his own clasped hands up to his face, and when I looked into his soft face, his eyes were closed for a moment. “When he opened them, they were filled with tears. He then said to me in a hushed voice full of pain and astonishment, ‘Shabbos!’ And he started to cry. He was still holding both my hands in his, and while he was crying, he repeated with astonishment, ‘Shabbos, the holy Shabbos!’ “My heart started pounding and I became more frightened than I had been before. Tears streamed down his face and one of them rolled onto my hand. I thought it would bore a hole right through my skin. When I think of that tear today, I can still feel its heat. I can’t describe how awful it felt to know that I had made the great tzaddik weep. But in his rebuke — which consisted only of those few words — I felt that he was not angry, but rather sad and fearful. He seemed frightened at the consequences of my actions.” The elderly man then caressed the hand that bore the invisible scar of a precious tear. It had become his permanent reminder to observe the “holy Shabbos” for the rest of his life. A little bit of love can save generations!

By Rabbi Fridmann * [email protected] * 305.985.3461

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