A D’var Torah for Parshat VaEra by Rabbi Frederick Reeves
Have you noticed that there are more extreme names for weather events these days? Bomb cyclone, polar vortex, thunder-snow — these are just a few of the names that have been coined to express the unprecedented weather that has occurred because of man-made climate change. And yet, I have noticed people complaining about a weather event as it is happening and then returning to life as usual when it is over.
Are we surprised by this behavior? It is as old as our biblical story of the plagues. In Parshat VaEra, the first plague is a climate catastrophe. The waters of the Nile are polluted and all of the fish die, the water stinks, and the people have to dig wells to find water to drink. The most important natural element for sustaining life in ancient Egypt is polluted by blood, but when the plague eases up, Pharaoh easily dismisses the catastrophe. We read, “But when Pharaoh saw that there was relief, he became stubborn and would not heed them, as the ETERNAL had spoken.” (Exodus 8:11)
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It is easy to compare Pharaoh to climate change deniers. Pharaoh hardens his heart, just as people today ignore science. Pharaoh turns from the commitments that he has made when there is relief, just as our leaders back out of commitments to reduce carbon dioxide emissions when gas prices come down. Pharaoh even has charlatans presenting their magic as being equal to the miracles of God, just as there are faux scientists who write papers pretending to be as scientific as actual climate science.
Since this story is so old, and it is repeating today, we have to ask: Do people change? We all know what happens to Pharaoh. He stubbornly refuses to see what is plain until his own son is killed by the tenth plague. Only when he has suffered personal, irreparable harm does Pharaoh let the people go. Will we have to suffer irreparable climate harm in order to change?
Our tradition tries to direct us towards change before we reach that catastrophic level through two approaches. The first is a broad warning. In the midrash, we read a story about God speaking to Adam just after he is made. God says,
“See My creations, how beautiful and exemplary they are. Everything I created, I created for you. Make certain that you do not ruin and destroy My world, for as if you destroy it, there will be no one to mend it after you.” (Kohelet Rabbah 7:13)
Here, the onus is placed on us — the buck stops here — and the focus is the whole world. It’s not clear what exactly the rabbis were imagining, since they could not possibly have conceived of climate change on the present scale, but they clearly understood that no one is coming to clean up after us.
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Then we get a warning on a more micro scale. When I think specifically of the mass extinction of species caused by climate change, I am drawn to Sefer HaChinuch, a 13th century Spanish work that comments on each of the 613 commandments. On the commandment to shoo away the mother bird before taking her eggs (shiluach haken), the author writes,
“The root of this commandment is to put into our hearts that the providence of blessed God is upon all of [God’s] creatures …meaning to say that [God’s] desire, may [God] be blessed, is for the existence of the [particular] species. And therefore, no species will ever become extinct from all of the species of creatures, as it is due to the providence of the Blessed One Who Lives and Endures Forever that their existence is found.” (Sefer HaChinuch 545)
We know today that species can become extinct, that they do so all too easily and tragically. But even when this author thought that was impossible, he still directed our attention to the individual. One bird at a time. One species at a time. Perhaps the extinction of millions of species we have never heard of is too mind-boggling for us to comprehend, but surely we can focus on the single bird before us and see how she might suffer.
We are stiff-necked, like Pharaoh. But, as we say on Yom Kippur, we are not so stiff necked as to say that we have not done wrong. Judaism exists because we believe in the power to change human behavior. We have enough warning signs, enough extreme climate names. Let us not be Pharaohs on the way to deaths in every household. Rather, let us change our practices so that we can put away our thesauruses and enjoy rain in its season (Ezekiel 34:26).
Rabbi Frederick Reeves is the rabbi of KAM Isaiah Israel in Chicago. Last year, he participated in one of T’ruah’s inaugural Communities of Practice.
