Noah's Vineyard

The Tzaddik's Blessing

There was once a man who travelled to the home of a great tzaddik, a saintly man known for his powerful and efficacious blessings. 

“Rebbe, give me a blessing!” he asked. 

“May it be,” the tzaddik intoned, “that the very first act you do upon returning home will be blessed and successful.”

The man was thrilled. What an opportunity! But how to best utilize this wonderful blessing?

After careful thought, he decided: as soon as he walked through his front door, he would immediately count his money. That way, the tzaddik’s blessing would rest upon his wealth. Clever, no?

Brimming with anticipation, he went home. As he crossed the threshold, he called out: “Wife! My purse, quickly!”

His wife was puzzled. “Why?” she asked.

“Just bring it to me!” he snapped, growing impatient.

“What’s this sudden obsession with your purse? Don’t you trust me?”

Fearing that her husband was no longer in his right mind, she refused to bring him the purse. Angry and frustrated, the husband began to berate her. The argument quickly became hot and vociferous.

In this unfortunate way, the tzaddik's blessing was fulfilled. The first act that the man did upon entering his home—fighting with his wife—quickly escalated into a spectacularly successful domestic spat.

Noah's First Act

Noah stepped onto dry land with a vision. The world had been washed clean, and here was his moment. The first great act of renewed mankind. The question was: what to do first?

Noah pondered this weighty dilemma. And then, at last, inspiration struck:

Wine.

Yes, wine! Was it not the drink that gladdens the heart? The symbol of celebration, the taste of something higher? Surely, nothing could be more fitting for the dawn of a new world. And so, Noah rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

The Midrash tells us he wasted no time. In one day—one single, eventful day—he planted a vineyard, harvested the grapes, pressed them, fermented the juice, drank the wine, and promptly lost all sense of dignity. A lesser man might have spread this catastrophe out over several months. Noah, in an extraordinary display of efficiency, achieved both triumph and downfall before sundown.

Now, to be fair, the world after the Flood was suffused with Divine compassion. God had vowed: “I will no longer curse the land.” This extraordinary blessing ensured that Noah’s first endeavor would succeed beyond expectation.

And succeed it did.

Yet, the Sages were less than impressed with his choice of priorities. Wine? First thing? They pointed to the wording in the text: va-yachel—"he began"—which, they noted, hints at chullin, something unholy. By choosing this as his inaugural act, Noah unwittingly lowered himself, leading to his disgrace and humiliation.

The Sabbath Blessing

The story of Noah's vineyard is a lesson about how our actions set the tone for what follows. 

Shabbat, the Sages say, is the wellspring of blessing for the entire week. As the Zohar teaches: “All blessings from Above depend on the seventh day.” 

Just as Noah’s first act shaped his future, so, too, our actions on the Shabbat influence the days that follow. If we fill Shabbat with meaning—with study and prayer, with song and holiness—then the entire week is infused with its blessing. But if we squander Shabbat on trivialities, if we let it pass in idleness or mindless diversions, then come Sunday, we will find ourselves spiritually impoverished.

Shabbat is, in essence, a weekly Noah moment. The world is reset. We step onto the fresh shores of a new week, and we must decide: what will we plant first?

(Mishlei Ya'akov, pp. 27-28)