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For this year’s
e-Torah, I will be looking at each week’s portion through the lens of a
song. The music will serve as a kind of midrash, a commentary on the sacred words.
Our masters taught: six attributes are
ascribed to human beings. In regard to
three, they are like ministering angels; in regard to three others, like
animals. Three like ministering angels:
they have understanding like the ministering angels, they walk erect like the
ministering angels, they can use the sacred tongue like the ministering angels. Three like animals: they eat and drink like
animals, they procreate like animals, and they defecate like animals. (Talmud, Chagigah 16a)
And now my fur has turned to skin
And I've been quickly ushered in
To a world that I confess I do not know
But I still dream of running careless through the snow
And through the howlin' winds that blow
Across the ancient distant flow
And fill our bodies up like water till we know
And I've been quickly ushered in
To a world that I confess I do not know
But I still dream of running careless through the snow
And through the howlin' winds that blow
Across the ancient distant flow
And fill our bodies up like water till we know
(Blitzen Trapper, Furr)
It is hard and
confusing to be human.
We are, on the one
hand, animals. As the Rabbis recognize,
we eat and drink, procreate and excrete like any other creatures. And we know that many of our actions are
determined in the lizard brain rather than in our uniquely human prefrontal
cortex. Yet we are also separated from
the rest of the beasts by virtue of our language, intellect and
technology. While these human
distinctions bring many benefits, they can also leave us lonely, isolated from
the rest of God’s creation. We deny our
animal selves at great cost, for as writer David Abram notes: “Our bodies have
formed themselves in delicate reciprocity with the manifold textures, sounds
and shapes of an animate earth. . . To shut ourselves off from these other
voices, to continue by our lifestyles to condemn these other sensibilities is
to rob our own senses of their integrity and to rob our minds of their
coherence. We are human only in contact,
and conviviality, with what is not human.”
In this week’s
portion, Bereshit, which opens the
Torah, we read of how our split human-animal nature is built into our DNA from
the beginning. In the creation narrative, nascent humanity is told in the same
breath to proliferate like the beasts—be
fruitful and multiply—and to rule
over all other living things. As
Aviva Gottlieb Zornberg puts it in her commentary on Genesis, “Here is
an essential paradox of the human, as God conceives, blesses, and commands [us]:
he is to live on the horizontal and vertical plane at once. He is to transform himself into a creature
preoccupied with swarming, proliferation, incorporating the strength of the
animal world. He is at the same time to
rule, to conquer.”
The Portland band Blitzen Trapper beautifully captures this
paradox at the heart of human nature in their song, “Furr.” It describes a young man wandering in the
woods until he is willingly taken in by a pack of wolves:
Howling endlessly and
shrilly at the dawn
I lost the taste for
judging right from wrong
For my flesh had
turned to fur
And my thoughts they
surely were
Turned to instinct and
obedience to God.
On his 23rd birthday, the young man/wolf meets a
woman his own age and abandons his canine life to return to civilization with
her. He grows up, loses his innocence,
and becomes human.
So I took her by the
arm
We settled down upon a
farm
And raised our
children up as gently as you please
And yet. . . though he willingly chooses human life, he
still longs for the simpler animal existence he leaves behind:
And now my fur has
turned to skin
And I’ve been quickly
ushered in
To a world that I
confess I do not know
But I still dream of
running careless through the snow
Through the howling
winds that blow
Across the ancient
distant flow
And fill our bodies up
like water till we know.
His plight is ours.
We’re grateful for our humanity—and also a little perplexed and troubled
by it. Our big, complicated brains
bestow wonderful gifts. They can also
leave us troubled and ill at ease with our environment, which we are destroying
to our great peril and that of all around us.
Between angel and animal.
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