Tonight begins the tenth and last day of the Ten Days of Teshuvah – the Ten Days of Answering. On Rosh Ha-Shanah I suggested that we consider the Torah’s first questions asked by and of human beings as the questions to which, on these days, we are called to give our answers.
And we saw that the Torah mentioned 2 questions first asked back in the Garden of Eden. The first was a question we asked ourselves – “Can’t we have it all?” and the second question was asked of us by God – “Where are you?”
Our answer to the first question was a defiant – “Yes, of course we can have it all.” And we ate from the fruit of the forbidden tree. Right then and there we supposedly learned that we had given the wrong answer. But it is unclear whether we really have accepted for ourselves the right answer. Nor have we done such a great job in understanding what the right answer is supposed to lead us toward, beyond avoidance of prohibited fruit from a certain tree in a mythical paradise.
The second question elicited another wrong answer. When we were invited out by God with the question, “Where are you?” we replied, “We are in hiding and ashamed of our nakedness.”
I suggested on Rosh Ha-Shanah that these Ten Days of Answering are meant to give us the chance, this time, to give these questions better answers.
But the questions are not exhausted yet. Immediately after God’s call, “Where are you?” and Adam’s response , “We are in hiding and ashamed of our nakedness,” God follows up with another question, our third, so far.
God asks back: “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?” (Gen. 3:11) Is this one long question or two? How much of a pause is there between the two parts of God’s query?
We can imagine God’s quick and indignant tone: “What is this? Did you really break my rule?” Or, as some readers have suggested, was God trying to be solicitous? Knowing how bad Adam and Eve felt, was God trying to soften the chastisement? Was the tone one of loving exasperation? “Come on now. Did you really go and do that stupid thing?”
Or did God ask the first part of the question and wait for an answer? “Who told you that you were naked?” And the silence draws out for what seems like an eternity.
“Who told you that you were naked?” This question has always intrigued me. What is God driving at? Did God think that we really needed to be told? Do we ever need someone else to tell us that we are naked?
The whole point of being naked, much of the time, is that we are not in the company of anyone to see that we are. And, in many other circumstances, when we wish to be naked together with someone else , neither of us needs to be told by the other that we are, indeed, in our birthday suits.
“Who told you that you were naked?” – ?
Perhaps you have been recalling the old story by Hans Christian Andersen called “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” In that tale an emperor is fooled by a couple of shrewd con men into believing that they are master weavers who have outfitted him in a splendid garment. It is so special that it is only visible by those who are truly worthy of their station or who are wise. All others cannot see it at all. So the emperor and his courtiers, for fear of showing that they are unworthy of their high station or fools, do not admit that they see no clothes on the man. When the emperor parades through town, the populace succumbs to mass peer pressure, with no one willing to admit that they cannot see the clothes. They fear that everyone else can, and that their blindness is a sign of inferiority. But finally one small boy, too innocent to be dishonest, blurts out, “But he has no clothes on!” and the naked truth is visible to all. His exclamation spreads throughout the crowd.
The story sounds similar, but it has many differences that may, nevertheless, help us think about God’s question. One difference is the ending. After the child’s outburst, this is how Andersen concludes the tale:
The Emperor shivered, for he suspected they were right. But he thought, “This procession has got to go on.” So he walked more proudly than ever, as his noblemen held high the train that wasn’t there at all.
Apparently the Emperor, unlike Adam and Eve, feels that he cannot hide at all. It is too late. He is stuck in full public view. So he swallows his humiliation and marches on with redoubled pride. Unlike Adam and Eve, he cannot let himself admit that he is really naked.
But perhaps this is precisely because no one told him when the telling could have made a difference. When the emperor was trying on his non-existent attire, in private, who told him then that he was naked? There was no one. No one was willing to tell him the truth. No one intervened to prevent the fiasco before it was too late.
And let’s remember that even the little boy did not actually tell the emperor that he was naked. The boy did not speak to the monarch. He spoke to everyone else. Like gossip, it spread through the crowd. How delicious to talk about someone else, let alone the Emperor! No wonder the emperor felt compelled to continue the parade. He had always been oblivious to the opinions of the masses. Now everyone was talking about him. But, despite the whispers and outbursts, no one actually told him directly that he was naked.
“Who told you that you were naked?” asks God. Who was your friend? Who was willing to tell you the truth? The answer to these questions was obvious. In the entire Garden, in the entire world, there was only One Other – You, God, are our friend. You would tell us the truth if we needed to hear it.
But God did not tell them that they were naked. It was not important. So why are Adam and Eve hiding? “Where are you?” Why are you hiding from your friend? Is it out of shame for being naked? But, says God, who told you that being naked is anything to be ashamed of? Or are you ashamed because you ate of the fruit of that tree?
Who can hide from God? Did God really need to ask, “Where are you?’
But, if we cannot hide from God, we can hide from ourselves. Does the Emperor really think that he can get away with marching on as if nothing has happened? Yes, he can. For we are past masters at hiding from ourselves, even when we know that we are completely exposed. It is easier for us to hide in our naked shame than to admit to our responsibilities. “This procession has got to go on,” we tell ourselves, and we march on.
To grimly proceed, in defiance of the stares and remarks of others – to insist on continuing to go on that path – not because one knows it is right, but precisely when one knows that it is false – is there any greater loss of innocence that this?
Andersen’s little boy could speak the truth because he was innocent, unconcerned with what others might have thought of him. So he could blurt out that the Emperor was naked. But “Who told you that you are naked?”
Who, in the Garden, is still innocent enough to speak the truth? Who, in the whole Garden, is still innocent enough to walk around naked without thinking about it until someone else says something? Where has your own innocence gone? Have you, then, eaten from that fruit?
This follow-up question functions as a way by God to help Adam and Eve respond honestly. If there was no one else who told you that you were naked, if no one else was involved, then why do you feel ashamed? Are you really worried about how others will view you? But who is there to worry about?
No. It must be that you ate from the tree. Isn’t that so? asks God. And God is hoping that they will admit that their sense of shame is a sense of self-condemnation for having done the wrong thing. God hopes to hear Adam say, “You are right, God. I did not need anyone else to show me the truth. I realize it myself, and I am ashamed of myself. I take responsibility for my failure. I have sinned. Forgive me.”
The Emperor continues on his way because he does not believe it is possible to turn back. He does not believe that innocence is retrievable. But the message of these Ten Days of Return is precisely that it is possible to return to innocence, an innocence hard-won, a deeper, tougher and wiser innocence, an innocence willing to face the hard questions and give honest answers to them. To believe in teshuvah is, itself, a grabbing hold of innocence.
But, again, at that moment Adam and Eve do not give a worthy answer. Adam does not believe in recapturing his innocence. He does not yet believe in Teshuvah – in the possibility to offer an honest answer. So Adam’s answer does not directly address God’s questions. He does not explain who told him that he was naked. And he does not simply admit his guilt in eating the fruit. Instead, he defends himself with a counter-accusation as a defense: “The woman that You put by my side – it is she who gave me from the tree, and I ate.” (v. 11)
Still smarting from learning the answer to the first question of his life, Adam complains: “So, I can’t have everything. But what do I get? From You, God, all I get is this companion. And what do I get from her? All I get is something from this tree. OK, so I ate. But what is that, in comparison with the injustice of what I get – and don’t get – in this life?”
Since he cannot have it all, he resents what he has. He cannot even accept his own nakedness. And, since he cannot accept the gift of himself, he cannot accept the gift of his partner in life. Instead of acceptance, gratitude and loyalty, he is guilty of shame, anger and betrayal.
Three questions so far. And three wrong answers. If we cannot have it all, then where does that leave us? Where are we?
The third question: “Who told you that you are naked?” – flows along with the others and, as are the others, it is really a group of questions:
- How do we judge ourselves?
- Do we measure ourselves through the judgments of others?
- Whose opinions do we value?
- Who are our true friends?
- Are we willing to take personal responsibility for who we are and where we are?
- Can we strive for a knowing, responsible innocence?
- Are we ready to be grateful for what we have?
We have entered the final day of this Ten Day Quiz Show, the Ten Days of Teshuvah – of Answering. This time, may we come up with better answers than before, and may we be blessed with a good year in which to live out our answers.
Good night – Laylah tov!
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