While this week’s Torah portion, Noach, describes its protagonist as a “righteous man,” most Jewish
commentators, past and present, tend to disagree. They note the qualifier that immediately
follows this claim, b’dorotav, “in
his generation” and argue that by implication, Noah was only relatively meritorious, compared to the
very low standards set by his contemporaries. Unlike Abraham or Moses, Noah
does not argue on behalf of his condemned fellow men and women. Anyone who is
content to do nothing while all of creation is destroyed cannot be all that
righteous. Or, as Rabbi Abraham Joshua
Heschel, drawing on the Hasidic tradition, puts it, Noah was a tzaddik im pelz, a
holy man in a fur coat. In a world gone
cold, you have two choices. You put on a
coat and warm yourself, or you build a fire, which warms both yourself and
others. Noah, alas, prefers the first,
more selfish option.
This distinction feels
particularly timely during the current panic over Ebola. Many political pundits and network talking
heads are now playing on people’s very real fears, using them as fodder to
stoke their calls for travel bans that would end our ability to deliver
essential aid to the West African nations suffering deeply under the Ebola
epidemic. These fear mongers would, in
short, have those of us in the developed world don our nice fur coats and avert
our eyes while our fellow men, women, and children in Sierra Leone, Liberia,
and Guinea die of this terrible disease.
Writing in this week’s
New Yorker, Michael Specter adds that
for at least a decade, we in the West could have pushed for the development of
an Ebola vaccine but didn’t—because we weren’t the people getting sick. At worst, this is blatant racism. At best, it is just another example of “holy
people in fur coats”, ignoring God’s unequivocal call, in last week’s portion,
to be our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers.
Our tradition asks
more of us. It challenges us to see all
of humankind as created in the Divine Image, and therefore worthy of our love,
concern, and care. Torah does not
believe in borders sealed against aid workers—and hearts hardened by fear. Neither should we.
For Randy Newman's prescient take on the matter, here's a video of his extraordinary song: "The Great Nations of Europe". Listen, especially, for the last line.
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