Ground Rules

Many of the concepts and ideas, and even the narrative, contained within Parshas Beraishis are very difficult to understand. Even with the aid of Chazal and the Meforshim, there are matters that are simply beyond our level of comprehension. That said, as Rashi reminds us at the beginning of the Parsha, the Torah is not written as a historical record—each Passuk and word is there to teach us something that applies to our lives. With this in mind, we must learn each part of the Parsha as well as we can, so that we can extract the meaning that awaits.

After telling us about the Chet of the Etz HaDaas, the Torah tells us about the response of Hashem to this first Aveirah. Each of the participants—the Nachash, Chava and finally Adam—are addressed directly by Hakadosh Baruch Hu and informed of the consequences that they, and all whom follow them, will face due to their actions. The Nachash and Chava each receive a Klalah, a curse, that applies to their species, so to speak: all snakes, and all Nashim, bear the onus of their predecessors’ actions, but no one else. When Hashem turns to Adam, however, there seems to be a change.

The Passuk begins: “U’Ladam Amar...Arurah HaAdama BaAvurecha B’Itzvon Tochalena Kol Yimei Chayecha.” Hashem tells Adam that because he listened to Chava and ate from the Etz HaDaas, the ground itself would be cursed “BaAvurecha”, on his account. These initial words seem to break from the pattern of the curses given to the Nachas and Chava, as now the ground is receiving the Klalah and not mankind. These words must therefore be understood—why, and how, is the ground cursed because of Adam?

Rashi explains that because Adam sinned, the ground would now sprout undesirable creatures, such as flies and ants. Rashi continues, explaining that the ground which gave forth the Etz HaDaas, by which Adam was Choteh, was cursed just as the parents of a wayward child are denigrated by others.

This Rashi explains the words “Arurah HaAdama BaAvurecha” in the most simple way, but opens the door to another question. Why should the Adama be punished for the actions of Adam? True, parents of a child who leaves the path of Yiddishkeit are abased by others, but is this correct? Should the ground be punished just because it grew a tree which Adam was unable to resist?

Ibn Ezra offers another approach to these words: the ground itself was the recipient of a Klalah, as it would henceforth not give off the bounty it was meant to have. Chazal tell us about the wonderous nature of the world at the time of Brias HaOlam, but that state which could not be maintained after Chet and so the ground itself was cursed as a result Adam’s actions.

This approach is also difficult to understand, however. Would the diminishment of the produce be a punishment for Adam or the ground? If it was a punishment for Adam, why does Hashem refer to this as “Arurah HaAdama” and not put the Onesh in terms of he who received it—mankind? If however the ground is somehow affected by its reduced ability to give off produce, we have the same question as earlier: why was the ground at fault such that it should be the recipient of a punishment?

It seems that whether you follow the approach of Rashi or Ibn Ezra, the same question must ultimately be answered: why was the Adama involved in the punishment of Adam for the Chet of the Etz HaDaas.

In fact, Chizkuni offers a Pshat in these words that seems to address this question head on. He explains that the ground was actually punished for something it did itself. On the third day of Brias HaOlam, Hakadosh Baruch Hu created plant life, saying: “Tadshe HaAretz Desha Esev Mazriah Zera Etz Pri Oseh Pri L’Mino”, the ground was commanded to give forth trees that would themselves be edible as would their fruit. The ground, however, did not obey this Tzivuy, as the next Passuk describes the tress as “Etz Oseh Pri”, trees that gave fruit, but were not themselves edible. The ground was now punished for disobeying the Dvar Hashem, and was cursed: “Arurah HaAdama.”

While the words of Chizkuni offer an explanation as to why the Adama was cursed, they are themselves quite difficult to understand. What does the grounds failure to fulfil the Tzivuy of Hashem have to do with Adam Harishon? Why would this cause the word “BaAvurecha” to be added?

There is a Medrash Aggadah which suggests that perhaps if the ground had given forth trees that were edible, as it was meant to, Adam could have eaten that instead of the Pri of the Etz HaDaas and thus not have be Choteh. It is not clear, however, if this would have been the case—the Tzivuy not to eat from the Etz HaDaas only says “Min HaEtz” and not “M’Pri HaEtz”, perhaps indicating that the actual tree would have been forbidden as well. In addition, Adam was told not to eat from the Etz HaDaas well after the ground had disobeyed Hashem, and so the Pri was already to the only edible part and therefore included in the Issur. This being the case, one wonders why the Medrash assumes that the ground was subject to punishment because its failure to fulfil its mandate “caused” Adam to commit the Aveirah.

The truth is that the source for the words of Chizkuni seems to be a Yerushalmi in Meseches Kla’aim that brings a Machlokes whether the ground did in fact ignore the Dvar Hashem. R’ Yudan cites the Pessukim brought by Chizkuni to prove that the ground did an Aveirah, but doesn’t specify what the Aveirah was. R’ Pinchas, however, interprets those Pessukim differently, teaching us that the ground was not commanded to give off edible trees, but was only supposed to grow fruit bearing trees but it decided to add to that Tzivuy and give off Ilanei Srak, non-fruit bearing trees, as well. The Gemarah concludes that according to R’ Yuden it is understandable why the ground was cursed, but according to R’ Pinchas we must assume it was because the Etz HaDaas grew from the ground, like Rashi says on our Passuk.

The Gemarah does not mention the lack of edible trees in R’ Yuden’s words, and certainly not that this contributed to the ground’s culpability for the Chet of the Etz HaDaas. We must assume that it was punished now for disobeying the Tzivuy of “Zera Etz Pri Oseh Pri L’Mino”, yet the Gemarah concludes: “Yaffah Niskalela”, it is understandable that it was cursed. We must understand why this is the case—why was the ground cursed now for something it had previously done? It is also unclear how this fits with the words “Arurah HaAdama BaAvurecha”: How is the Klalah of the Adama reated to Adam HaRishon?

There is another Gemarah, in Meseches Chulin, that speaks about the same Passuk as the Yerushalmi in Kla’aim, with a slightly different message. There the Gemarah tells us that the words “Etz Pri Oseh Pri L’Mino” were a Tzivuy telling the trees should grow separately, each giving off its own fruit, but the Esev, grasses, did not receive this Tzivuy. Nonetheless, they saw that Hashem wished that different species should grown separately, and decided to do so on their own, as the next Passuk includes the word L’Minehu when speaking about the Esev. The Gemarah concludes that when the Saro Shel Olam saw this, it sang Shira: “Yehi Chavod Hashem L’Olam.”

Interestingly, the same word, “L’Minehu”, is used in both Gemarahs. Its presence teaches us that the Esev did what it didn’t have to, that it went beyond its obligation, and its absence teaches us that the ground did not live up to its responsibility. The actions of the Esev cause the Saro Shel Olam to sing, and those of the ground caused it to be cursed. Certainly, we cannot assume that this is a coincidence—these two outcomes must in some way be connected.

Perhaps we can explain these Pessukim and Mamarei Chazal based on a thought that R’ Yonasan Eibshitz brings in Yaaros Dvash.

There is a Machlokes among Rishonim as to the nature of the Yetzer Harah. The Rambam, and those who follow his approach, learn that the Yetzer Harah is not its own entity, but it is the Chumrios of a person, the parts of him connected to Gashmius and Teva, that cause him to do Aveiros, which are generally rooted in physical Taivah. It is the Nefesh of a person, his Chelek HaRuchani, that serves as the Yetzer Tov, trying to steer him along the proper path. The only way to keep from doing Avieros, then, is to allow the Chelek HaRuchani, through Avodas Hashem and Limud Hatorah, to overpower the Chelek HaGashmi. Others, however, teach us that the Yetzer Harah is a Malach whose job it is to pull us toward Aveira, without whom our body would follow our Neshama without incident. Therefore, Hashem created another Malach, the Yetzer Tov, to help protect us from the influence of the Yetzer Harah so that we will hew to the correct path. The Yaaros Dvash assumes that this final Shita is the correct one, based on numerous Mamarei Chazal.

We know that when the world was created, Hashem asked the Malachim whether he should in fact create a man. Some of the Malachim urged the Borei Olam not to do so, as mankind would without question falter and be susceptible to Aveirah. These Malachim, explains R’ Eibshitz, were the Malachim that became the Yetzer Harah, and thereafter they are focused on one goal: proving themselves right. Each day they try and show that their instincts were true: mankind is nothing but an instrument of evil.

The answer to the Yetzer Harah, however, comes from the reasons that we do Aveiros, as illustrated, says the Yaaros Dvash, by the Esev. Everything in the word, he explains, has a Nitzotz Hakedusha—some amount, however infinitesimal of Ruchnias. Something that is as physical as grass has less Kedusha than a person, but there is Kedusha all the same. When the Esev heard that the trees were told to grow L’Minehu, they not only divined the Ratzon Hashem, but understood that it really applied to them more than the trees, because by its nature grass is more prone to growing in mixed areas. Thus, in choosing to grow separately, L’Minehem, the grass allowed its Nitzotz Hakedusha to take control of its natural inclinations, which embody its Chelek HaGashmi.

This is the answer to the Yetzer Harah: mankind, which is surely infused with more Kedusha than a blade of grass, would not be prone to Avierah if not for your machinations. If a most physical being, grass, can allow its Chelek HaRuchani to dictate its existence, a person would certainly be able to do the same. It is only because of the outside influence of the Yetzer Harah that we fall, time and time again.

Perhaps this was the message to Adam HaRishon.

Adam had fallen: he was unable to keep the one Mitzvah that he was given. Perhaps he would have felt as though he was doomed to a life of Avierah, unable to use his Chelek HaRuchani to dictate his life, always a slave to his Chumrios.

Hashem therefore told him “Arurah HaAdama”, the ground itself will be cursed. It did not listen to the Dvar Hashem and produced trees that were in some way different from those it was meant to. But, it is being held responsible, for it too has a Chelek Haruchani that could have prevailed. Just as the Esev conquered its nature using its Nitzotz Hakedusha, the ground could have done the same, and it is punished for not doing so.

“Arurah HaAdama BaAvurecha”, Adam is told that the ground is being punished. Why now? “BaAvurecha” can be understood as meaning not “because of you” but “for you”. Hashem told Adam that the ground was being cursed because it showed that even the smallest amount of Kedusha can prevail, and even the most physical being can be made to follow the Ratzon HaBorei. This would show Adam that mankind is not relegated to a life of Aveirah: we can use the Yetzer Tov to ensure that our Chelek HaRuchani, which is all the more substantial than that of a blade of grass, can prevail.

Each day the Yetzer Harah challenges us: which “Minehu” will we exemplify—that of the trees or the grass? Will our Chelek Ruchani prevail, or will we once again give him reason to preclaim that he was right, that mankind is doomed to Aveirah? The first recorded victory in this fight resulted in the Saro Shel Olam saying Shira to Hashem and we too can be embodiments of that song: “Yehi Chavod Hashem L’Olam.”