YESHIVAT HAR ETZION
ISRAEL KOSCHITZKY VIRTUAL BEIT MIDRASH (VBM)
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INTRODUCTION TO PARASHAT HASHAVUA

PARASHAT NOACH

The Tower of Bavel

By Rav Michael Hattin

INTRODUCTION

How quickly did the hope and promise, which colored the world's landscape at the dawn of its creation, fade away and disappear!  Adam and Chava, God's most noble terrestrial creatures and the only ones possessed of a moral will, soon abrogated His reasonable command and consumed the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge.  Their son Kayin cruelly killed his brother Hevel in a fit of jealous rage, thus introducing the idea of murder to humanity's expanding vocabulary.  Among Kayin's descendents, Tuval-Kayin was singled out for infamous mention, a gifted fashioner of "sharpened weapons of bronze and iron."  In the days of Enosh, Adam's grandson, the worship of the One Absolute God was diluted and then disdained, to slowly but inexorably be supplanted by idolatry and polytheism.  Humanity multiplied and began to fill the earth, but the underpinnings of their burgeoning societies were corroded by sexual immorality, violence and bloodshed.  

Teetering under the awful weight of innocent lives broken and cut short, the earth was inundated by the cleansing waters of the Flood.  Only Noach, his wife and children were spared, borne upon the deep by an ark that also contained the comforting commotion of every animal species.  For half a year, the ark floated aimlessly, as every vestige of humanity and its crimes was scoured from the face of the earth.  The floodwaters eventually receded, the ark struck ground on the slopes of Mount Ararat, but another half year passed before dry land appeared, littered with debris but purified nonetheless.  After a tense countdown, the humans and animals disembarked at God's behest, and Noach offered sincere sacrifice.  As the leaden storm clouds dissipated, a rainbow, and with it, the promise of God's renewed covenant, brightened the heavens. 

THE BUILDING OF THE TOWER

Leaving the ark behind him but still reeling from its tragic associations, Noach turned to cultivating the fruit of the vine.  Drunk with the numbing juice of its bounty, however, he brought disgrace upon himself, thus casting his life's final centuries (!) in ignominy.  His three sons and their wives begat children, and those children more still, as humanity's tentative attempt to replenish the world unfolded apace.  Families soon gave rise to clans, clans merged to become tribes, and as the parasha drew toward its conclusion, the first outlines of nascent nations emerged.  With the completion of the final narratives and genealogical lists, the text turned its attention to the fertile valley of Shinar (Sumer), fated to become one of the cradles of civilization.  Here, in a terse passage constituting nine verses, unfolded one of the most inexplicable events in all of the Tanakh, the building of the tower of Bavel:

All of the land was one language and united in one cause.  When they had traveled form the east, they found a valley in the land of Shinar and settled there.  Each one of them said to his fellow: "Come, let us make bricks and temper them with fire," so that the bricks became as stone and the clay was used as mortar.  They said: "Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower that reaches to the heavens.  Let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be scattered upon the face of the whole earth."  God came down to see the city and the tower that the mortals (literally, the "Children of Adam") had built.  God said: "Behold, they are one nation and have one language, and this is what they have began to do.  Now, shall nothing that they attempt be withheld from them?  Let us then descend and confuse their language, so that a person will no longer comprehend the language of his neighbor."  God scattered them from there upon the face of the whole earth, and they ceased to build the city.  Therefore, the name of that place was Bavel, for there God confused ("BaLaL") the language of them all, and from there God scattered them upon the face of the whole earth (Bereishit 11:1-9).

The above episode has generated much discussion among the classical commentaries as well as among modern secular scholars.  The latter tend to view the incident as a literary invention, a fanciful and revisionist explanation for the existence of a polyglot humanity, that was cleverly anchored in historical reality by reference to the ancient Mesopotamian stepped pyramidal structure known as the ziggurat.  These brick shrines, some of them still partially extant and offering mute testimony to early humanity's attempts to ascend heavenward, once dotted the landscape between the great rivers of the Euphrates and the Tigris, the site of the ancient empires of Sumer and Akkad, Babylon and Assyria.  For these modern thinkers, though, the passage contains little didactic content and certainly conveys no transcendent and eternal message.

The classical commentaries, in contrast, were much less concerned with the concrete backdrop to the story and much more interested in its spiritual significance.  For them and for us the words of the Torah are Divinely charged with meaning and eternally relevant, constantly concerned with the spiritual nature of the human being and his/her relationship to God and to others.  For the commentaries, the important questions focused not primarily on the extraneous historical details, but rather upon the text itself: what was the people's intention and purpose in erecting the tower?  Why was God upset with their endeavor?  How did His response of confusing their language justifiably address their act of indiscretion?  Perhaps most troubling of all, however, was the underlying doubt generated by the episode's conclusion: if the unity and brotherhood of man is one of the Torah's touchstones, then why did God blatantly undermine humanity's first and most bold attempt at achieving that objective?

THE INTERPRETATION OF RASHI

We will begin by considering Rashi's (11th century, France) explanation, itself based upon Rabbinic traditions preserved in the Talmud and Midrash.  Rashi suggests that the unity of purpose that characterized the building of the city and tower had ominous undertones:

The "united cause" indicates that they gathered with unified counsel, saying: "it is not acceptable that He has taken the heavens for Himself.  Let us ascend to the firmament and wage war against Him!"  Alternatively, the "united cause" means that they arrayed themselves against the One God of the universe…[When the text states that "God came down to see the city and the tower that the children of Adam had built"], whose children would we have expected to have built it, the offspring of donkeys or camels?!  Rather, it refers to the builders as the children of that first man Adam, who denied God's beneficence when he blamed Him for his own transgression.  [After partaking of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge] he said: "the woman that YOU gave to me brought me the fruit of the tree and I ate it."  Similarly, these people denied God's kindness in saving them from the Flood, and instead rebelled against Him…(commentary to 11:1, 11:5).

For Rashi, the objective of the tower builders was nothing less than an attempt to unseat God from His heavenly perch, to rebel against His rule and to reject His laws.  When the builders speak of erecting the tower in order to "make a name for ourselves" they imply that they intend to take God's place in the scheme of things by usurping His authority.  In simpler terms, Rashi understands their intentions as idolatrous, the inevitable conclusion to antediluvian man's first questioning of God's absoluteness.  In the colorful language of the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 38:6), the builders said: "let us make a tower, place an idolatrous image at its summit, and put a sword in the idol's hand, so that it appears to be attacking Him!"  The awesome power of a united humanity is here harnessed to construct an edifice that will proclaim the ascent of man and the downfall of God. 

DIFFICULTIES WITH RASHI

Thematically, Rashi's comments go far in explaining God's displeasure, but they fail to adequately address His response.  Thus, while clearly fulfilling a punitive function, it is nevertheless difficult to understand how the Divinely inspired language barriers that lead to the dispersion of the valley's inhabitants constitute fitting retribution for the iniquity of idolatry.  Perhaps the motif of God scattering united humanity by introducing the divisiveness engendered by diverse languages and cultures is meant to reflect their own wrongdoing.  Did they not willingly attempt to shatter the axiom of God's absolute oneness by championing polytheism and the belief in many quarrelling gods?

Textually, the explanation advanced by Rashi falls short in addressing the tower builders' own words. After all, they themselves indicate that their intent is not only or even primarily to "make a name for ourselves," but rather to avoid the eventuality of being scattered: "Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower that reaches to the heavens.  Let us make a name for ourselves, LEST WE BE SCATTERED UPON THE FACE OF THE WHOLE EARTH" (11:4).  In fact, it is this fear of dispersion, the unity that precedes it and the disunity that follows, that shapes the entire account:

All of the land was ONE LANGUAGE and UNITED in one cause.  When they had traveled from the east, they found a valley in the land of Shinar and settled there.  Each one of them said to his fellow: "Come, let us make bricks and temper them with fire," so that the bricks became as stone and the clay was used as mortar.  They said: "Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower that reaches to the heavens.  Let us make a name for ourselves, LEST WE BE SCATTERED UPON THE FACE OF THE WHOLE EARTH."  God came down to see the city and the tower that the mortals (literally, the "Children of Adam") had built.  God said: "Behold, they are ONE NATION and have ONE LANGUAGE, and this is what they have began to do.  Now, shall nothing that they attempt be withheld from them?  Let us then descend and confuse their language, so that a person will no longer comprehend the language of his neighbor."  God SCATTERED THEM from there upon the face of the WHOLE EARTH, and they ceased to build the city.  Therefore, the name of that place was Bavel, for there God confused ("BaLaL") the language of them all, and from there God SCATTERED THEM upon the face of the WHOLE EARTH"(Bereishit 11:1-9).

THE VIEW OF IBN EZRA

It is Rabbi Avraham Ibn Ezra (12th century, Spain) who utilizes a very different approach in his explanation of the passage (commentary to 11:3-7):

The builders of the tower were not so foolish as to believe that they could really ascend to heaven…the text itself indicates that their desire and objective was to build a great city to dwell in, and to erect a high tower to serve as a glorious sign to mark the city's position for those who traveled from it, such as the shepherds.  Of course the tower would also immortalize their own name as long as it would stand.  This is the meaning of "Let us make a name for ourselves"…do not be astonished by [their expression of building a tower] "that reaches to the heavens" for this is simply hyperbolic, just as Moshe himself described the cities of the Canaanites as "greatly fortified up to the heavens" (Devarim 1:28).  These builders did not want to separate from each other, but God decreed otherwise…[God confused their beliefs and their languages] because religious differences create jealousy and hatred, as do differences of tongue…some say that God caused them to forget their single language, but I maintain that after they were scattered, Nimrod ruled over Bavel and then other kings arose.  After many years, that generation died out and their language was forgotten.  God dispersed them and this was beneficial for them, as the verse states: "fill the earth" (1:18)…

For Ibn Ezra, the text's failure to explicitly mention idolatry is not accidental.  It is because this particular passage has nothing to do with the Torah's polemic against paganism.  Elsewhere, the Torah's narratives and laws roundly condemn this most insidious of human inventions, but not here.  The objective of the tower builders was not to wage war against God but simply to avoid being separated.  In their great city, they peacefully dwelt together as one and the purpose of the soaring spire rising in their midst was to mark their location forever.  From far and wide, people would see the tower and gather to its site, linking their individual fates with the collective fate of the city. 

God descends to see the work of man and He is displeased.  Recognizing that the key to their continued success is their unity, God sows dissension by confusing their tongues.  But, says Ibn Ezra, Rashi's unforgettable depiction of maddening confusion, of "this one asking for a brick and that one bringing mortar instead, and the disgruntled bricklayer then smashing his fellow's skull" (commentary to 11:7), is a Midrashic flourish.  In fact, says Ibn Ezra, humanity's dispersion was the eventual cause for the development of different families of language, rather than its immediate consequence.

THE CURSE OF "UNITY"

Thus far, Ibn Ezra manages to admirably address the text.  He provides a sound rationale for the valley dwellers' ambition to build the tower, he explains the significance of the recurring "dispersion" refrain, and he even succeeds in linking God's response to the people's transgression.  Humanity errs in choosing unity, God corrects by imposing divergence.  The people desire to be together in language and purpose, God insists that they be divided.  The glaring difficulty with Ibn Ezra's explanation is that it seems to negate one of Judaism's most revolutionary and treasured ideals: the fellowship of humankind.

Was not the Torah the very first to proclaim that all human beings, regardless of race, ethnicity, or religion, were the descendants of the same mother and father, and imbued by their Creator with the Divine image?  Was not the most noble vision of the "world's end" the one that was foreseen by the prophets of Israel, who proclaimed an ideal future of complete harmony, universal peace, and full rapprochement with God?  Why then would God disrupt the work of the tower, history's earliest expression of brotherhood and camaraderie, by "confusing the tongue" of its builders?  Why would He introduce to the world distinctions of language and religion, sparks of contention that Ibn Ezra himself recognized as responsible for "creating jealousy and hatred" and igniting the terrible conflagrations that have consumed innumerable human lives?

The contextual answer is to be found in the lengthy proleptic passages that introduce the story of the tower of Bavel.  The tenth chapter of Bereishit lists the descendents of Noach's three sons, "each in his land according to his language" (10:5).  All together, there are about seventy names that are enumerated, each one associated with a different geographical location and possibly a different language.  While it may be surmised that the passage provides foreshadowing for the story of the tower and the dispersion that follows it, it also indicates that the diversity of humanity is bound up with the Torah's objectives.  After all, the verses describe the divided state of affairs without recourse to any negative value judgments, hardly to be expected if the thrust of the tower account was to regard the scattering of humanity as a punishment.

Ibn Ezra concludes that "God dispersed them and this was beneficial for them, as the verse states: 'fill the earth,'" but in keeping with his characteristic terseness, he fails to elaborate.  The meaning, however, is painfully clear.  The episode of the tower of Bavel indicates that there are in fact, two paradigms of human unity.  In the first, all members of the group live in the same location, ascribe to the same principles, speak the same language, and are effectively homogeneous.  Those that stray from the unifying parameters, the non-conformists, are shunned and excluded, in order to preserve the "purity" of the group.  The advantage of such a paradigm may be that it fosters teamwork, concern for the collective, and readiness to serve.  Its disadvantage, however, is that on the personal level it tends to breed mediocrity while crushing individual creativity, and on the national level it fosters intolerance and totalitarianism.  

REJECTING TOTALITARIANISM

The great and massive building projects that have always typified totalitarian regimes, whether ancient or modern, are quite similar in scope and in purpose to the "tower that reaches to the heavens."  The awesome expenditures of human effort used to realize these grandiose schemes have often been matched only by a corresponding indifference to the value of individual human life and to its inviolability.  In extreme forms of totalitarianism, the individual is meaningless and his individuality is a crime.  Value of the person is calculated solely according to collective needs and national goals.  Obviously, in such a regime, the state-sponsored service of God, the gods or even the lack of gods, is going to be shallow, superficial, monotonous, and extreme.  Extrapolating to the global dimension, a humanity that ascribes to the archetype indicated by the tower of Bavel may achieve the elusive goal of outward unity, but at the unacceptably high cost of sacrificing every characteristic that makes a person or a nation unique.

God, therefore, scatters the people, and disrupts their plans.  While the introduction of geographic, linguistic and cultural differences can be responsible for fostering intolerance, they can also provide the hope of achieving understanding, acceptance, and appreciation of the other.  In the Torah's vision, every person and every nation has a special role to play in the unfolding saga of human history, and each one is called upon to forge a unique relationship with God.  

That does not mean, of course, that there are no standards or absolutes.  In fact, it is in parashat Noach that the so-called "Seven Noachide Principles" are introduced, no doubt in anticipation of the tower of Bavel episode.  Judaism regards these fundamental moral and religious laws as obligatory upon all people and all civilizations, yet it does not demand that all people serve God or help man with the same mind-numbing uniformity.  In the same way, our tradition requires of its adherents to keep the 613 commandments, but within that framework, nevertheless allows for a relatively broad spectrum of observance.  Diversity must not be confused with moral relativism, and respect for distinction confounded by the unfiltered acceptance of every form of evil under the sun.  The Messianic vision of the end of days, the ideal of universal peace and brotherhood, nowhere implies the erasing of national characteristics or individual goals but only the revolutionary recognition that pluralism and human diversity must go hand in hand with observance of God's laws.  

The forty-odd centuries of human history that have elapsed since the episode of the tower have seen Ibn Ezra's concerns unfold.  Nations and peoples have been divided by language, culture and religion and have waged many unnecessary and destructive wars in their service.  But during all that time, the Torah's ideal of fellowship has preserved the hope of better days.  In our own lifetime, we have started to see the effects of globalization and for the first time in human history, physical distances can now be bridged by technology and cultural isolation overcome by communications.  At the same time, humanity is slowly coming to the awareness that our world is but a small blue sphere suspended by a tenuous thread against the black immensity of interstellar space.  The liberating forces of globalization have thus paradoxically created the possibility of self-destruction.  If nations do not soon learn to cooperate on matters of global importance, a list that grows longer every day with the constant perceived shrinkage of space and time, then we are doomed.  Yet at the tower of Bavel we learned that what is needed is not the erasing of borders and the adoption of a pervasive universal culture, but rather a respect and love for contrasts, and the recognition that humanity and its service of God can only be enriched by diversity.

Shabbat Shalom