Batting .500 may be a great baseball average ("Yeah!" to the White Sox), but 50% is not a very good grade. Yet, that's what Adam scores at the end of Day One, after the sin of Etz Ha'Da'at (the Tree of Knowledge).
The snake convinces Chava to violate G-d's command not to eat from this one tree; Chava then convinces Adam to eat and all three perpetrators suffer the consequences.
Adam's principal punishment: he must now work for a living, surviving only "by the sweat of his brow," as opposed to the cushy, it-grows-on-trees Paradise he had previously enjoyed. This seems fitting: Adam abdicated his responsibility to adhere to HaShem's word, and he "passed the buck" and blamed Chava (and even HaShem) for his misdeed; now, he will have to assume full responsibility through the ages for supporting his family in what can be a harsh, competitive, grueling world.
Chava, for her part, is told (among other things): "He (Man) shall rule over you." Says the Ramban: "Chava unduly influenced Adam and he ate at her command; now, rather than enjoy an equal partnership with her husband, she would become subservient to him in that she would depend on his being the one to normally take the initiative."
Then comes Mr. Snake, a mysterious and fascinating character. Where once he enjoyed a respectable relationship with Man, now there will be "eternal enmity" between their species. Where once he spoke freely, with great cleverness, now his "forked tongue" is silenced forever. And where once he stood tall and erect, he now "loses his footing" in the animal kingdom and must crawl on his belly, "eating dust all the days of his life."
This last decree seems strange. Why is it such a punishment that the snake finds food everywhere, within easy reach, having only to slink along effortlessly to encounter a full menu of foods that fill his belly? This easy access to sustenance almost seems like a bracha (blessing).
The Gemara (Yoma 75) suggests that the snake's curse is that whatever it eats will taste like dust. But there is another idea. We may think that an easy life - where sustenance and survival are right there for the taking - equals a good life. But the opposite is true. Man was put in this world to work hard, to utilize his energies and his initiative, to struggle, to sweat, to strive for success. It is in that effort, that uphill climb, that Man finds true fulfillment and a sense of accomplishment.
"According to the work is the reward," say chazal in Pirkei Avot. In a sense, therefore, HaShem turns the seeming curse of Man's working into a bracha: through gainful, honest work, Man uses his G-d-given skills and strengths, exercises his potential and contributes to Tikun Olam.
Bottom line: standing tall on our own two feet and giving our all is a lot better than slithering through life.
[With thanks to my friend Mendy Bude, Daf Yomi teacher par excellence of London.]
The snake convinces Chava to violate G-d's command not to eat from this one tree; Chava then convinces Adam to eat and all three perpetrators suffer the consequences.
Adam's principal punishment: he must now work for a living, surviving only "by the sweat of his brow," as opposed to the cushy, it-grows-on-trees Paradise he had previously enjoyed. This seems fitting: Adam abdicated his responsibility to adhere to HaShem's word, and he "passed the buck" and blamed Chava (and even HaShem) for his misdeed; now, he will have to assume full responsibility through the ages for supporting his family in what can be a harsh, competitive, grueling world.
Chava, for her part, is told (among other things): "He (Man) shall rule over you." Says the Ramban: "Chava unduly influenced Adam and he ate at her command; now, rather than enjoy an equal partnership with her husband, she would become subservient to him in that she would depend on his being the one to normally take the initiative."
Then comes Mr. Snake, a mysterious and fascinating character. Where once he enjoyed a respectable relationship with Man, now there will be "eternal enmity" between their species. Where once he spoke freely, with great cleverness, now his "forked tongue" is silenced forever. And where once he stood tall and erect, he now "loses his footing" in the animal kingdom and must crawl on his belly, "eating dust all the days of his life."
This last decree seems strange. Why is it such a punishment that the snake finds food everywhere, within easy reach, having only to slink along effortlessly to encounter a full menu of foods that fill his belly? This easy access to sustenance almost seems like a bracha (blessing).
The Gemara (Yoma 75) suggests that the snake's curse is that whatever it eats will taste like dust. But there is another idea. We may think that an easy life - where sustenance and survival are right there for the taking - equals a good life. But the opposite is true. Man was put in this world to work hard, to utilize his energies and his initiative, to struggle, to sweat, to strive for success. It is in that effort, that uphill climb, that Man finds true fulfillment and a sense of accomplishment.
"According to the work is the reward," say chazal in Pirkei Avot. In a sense, therefore, HaShem turns the seeming curse of Man's working into a bracha: through gainful, honest work, Man uses his G-d-given skills and strengths, exercises his potential and contributes to Tikun Olam.
Bottom line: standing tall on our own two feet and giving our all is a lot better than slithering through life.
[With thanks to my friend Mendy Bude, Daf Yomi teacher par excellence of London.]