Creation, Adam and Eve, the forbidden fruit, Cain and Abel. This week we start the Torah all over again, and I want to look at the character who caused all the trouble: the serpent.
Now, who was the real culprit here? Adam and Eve both sinned, but it all began with the serpent that tempted Eve, who tempted Adam, and the rest is history. So each of them gets a punishment. Adam must work the land to produce bread. Eve will suffer hard labor in childbirth. And the snake? “More cursed shall you be than all animals. … On your belly shall you crawl, and dust you shall eat all the days of your life” (Genesis 3:14).
The Midrash explains that the snake originally had legs like other animals, and they were taken away. Now he must slither on the ground. Fine, that is a punishment.
But what about the second part? He will eat dust. Excuse me, where is the curse? Dust is everywhere. The snake never has to worry about where his next meal is coming from. No shopping, no cooking, no bills.
Meanwhile, Adam is told, “By the sweat of your brow, you shall eat bread.” He must plow, plant, reap, grind and bake. Adam is cursed. The snake gets free room and board for life.
I’d like to suggest that the snake got the worse deal. Think about what food means to us. It is never just nutrition.
Two ladies are sitting at a hotel in the Catskill Mountains. One says: “The food here is terrible.” The other agrees and adds, “I know. And such small portions!”
Even in complaining, we want the experience! The menu matters. The presentation on the plate matters. The setting matters. When a husband takes his wife out for their anniversary, it’s a candlelit dinner. Some restaurants deliberately dim the lights. I’ve often wondered. Is it to create a romantic setting and ambience? Or is it so we don’t see what the food really looks like?
Here is a question. Does the caterer enjoy his own food? Night after night, the same few menus, the same salmon, the same chicken, the same chocolate mousse. He must be sick of the sight of it. Everybody wants variety.
A Jew is not meant to slither through life taking whatever falls in front of him.
We were in Cape Town for Sukkot this year. We have four children living there and making significant contributions to the Jewish community. During Chol Hamoed, we attended different communal functions.
Funny enough, every organization had chosen the same menu: pizza. Now, I love pizza. But pizza on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday is a bit much. In Yiddish there’s a word for this: chaloshes. It’s hard to translate, but it means something really eloquent, like “yuck.” Even something you love becomes uneatable if it is put in front of you every single day.
I had a friend who volunteered from South Africa to help in Israel during the Six-Day War. In the army, they fed him Israeli salad night after night after night. When he came home, he couldn’t look at a salad. For years, he wouldn’t touch it. He’d had enough for a lifetime.
Now look at the opposite. Cooking shows used to be one of the most boring selections on TV. Who wants to watch someone chopping onions?
But today, Master Chef has become one of the world’s most popular shows, pastimes and even has international competitions. There is an entire Food Network and more. What do people love about them? Not just the finished dish, but the process: the slicing, the seasoning, the artistry, the care, the plating. We love to watch the work that goes into a good meal.
So perhaps Adam’s sentence, “by the sweat of your brow you shall eat bread,” was not only a curse but a blessing. The work, the planning and the effort are what make the bread taste sweet.
That is the snake’s curse. Dust is always there, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. No preparation, no anticipation, nothing to look forward to, and therefore, no pleasure. For the rest of his life, the snake gets chaloshes.
Here lies a crucial message. People ask: Why is life so hard? Why is it so difficult to earn a living, to raise a family, to put food on the table, to be a good Jew?
But the question isn’t really about easy versus hard. It is about effort and achievement. We all know that the only place where success comes before work is the dictionary. When we invest ourselves in something, struggle for it and finally see the fruit of our labor, that is when we feel real satisfaction and contentment.
Handed to us on a plate, it would taste like dust.
A Jew is not meant to slither through life taking whatever falls in front of him. We are meant to stand upright, roll up our sleeves and build something: a home, a business, a community, a Torah education, a relationship with God. And when we have worked for it, every bite is sweeter.
So the next time life feels hard, and you wonder why things can’t just come easy, remember the snake. He has everything he needs, handed to him every day, forever. And that, my friends, is a curse.
May we all be blessed with something worth working for, the strength to make the effort and the joy of experiencing the fruits of our labor.
