It can be difficult to view a familiar story with fresh eyes. When we reach the parshiyot in Sefer Bereishit, we encounter well known stories that many of us first learned as children and are part of culture. This past week I noticed a discussion in the commentaries which not only painted a vastly different image of the story but added relevance and meaning.
One of the stubborn images of Gan Eden etched in our minds is the nachash, the snake. This humanoid like snake, standing on its legs, speaking, coercing Chava to eat from the eitz hadaat.
We have all seen snakes in our lives, and some of us may even be frightened by the slithering hissing snake. But no matter how afraid a person may be, we all know that snakes are not capable of performing the activities mentioned in Bereishit. Snakes cannot think, speak, or walk like humans.
The classic understanding, one we likely were taught as children, is the explanation of Rashi. The cunning walking talking nachash lost these abilities because of his sin and G-d’s subsequent curse.
You may prefer this classic explanation, and it has its advantages in pshuto shel mikra, but for the moment I would like to focus on a different view, the opinion of the Abarbanel. The Abarbanel is bothered by an apparent difficulty with Rashi’s explanation. The Torah elucidates G-d’s curse to the nachash, and losing sophisticated thought and the power of speak are notably absent! These are seemingly the most significant of curses!
The Abarbanel explains that the snake of Gan Eden is not the humanlike being Rashi depicts. The snake is an ordinary snake, the same as the snakes that we have seen.
Have you ever seen a snake speak? Of course not, but the Abarbanel explains that he does not speak in Bereishit either.
The snake slithered to the tree and wrapped itself around the tree. He never spoke; Chava interpreted his action as the snake telling her to touch the tree.
The snake ate of the fruit: Chava interpreted this as the snake telling her to eat the food.
The Yetzer Hara (Evil Inclination) has different ways to speak to us. There are times where we see him, standing up, speaking to us, handing us the forbidden fruit. We can recognize sins that call to us blatantly. But the Yetzer Hara does not always knock on our doors as a nachash with arms and legs. The Yetzer Hara can be cunning, unassumingly slithering by like the nachash of the Abarbanel, and it is we who add the interpretation.
Similarly, the Yetzer Tov has similar methods. When an elderly person asks for help carrying his or her groceries, of course if we are physically able to we would assist. When a pregnant woman walks into a bus out of breath looking for a seat, we are happy to get up. The obvious opportunities for chessed represent the Yetzer Tov walking and talking and almost coercing us to do a good deed. But like his counterpart, the Yetzer Tov often slithers by inconspicuously. Most often an elderly person will not ask you for help. Our friends and family often keep their poker faces on, hiding their troubles, rather than turning to us for help. We cannot read minds, but with open eyes we may notice the cues of the Yetzer Tov and identify these opportunities for kindness.
The Nachash the Abarbanel describes is real. Unfortunately, mankind often falls for the subtle traps of the Yetzer Hara. We excel at adding the interpretation and providing the narrative to entice us. But with open eyes, we can use this skill for good, searching for opportunities to both help others and grow ourselves, taking advantage of the subtlety of the Yetzer Tov. If we wait for him to knock at our door, we will surely miss the chessed possibilities which slither by.
No responses yet