October 2003 Adam And The Rabbi By Rabbi Alvin Kass The Talmud records the story of a rabbi who compared his economic status to that of Adam. The rabbi said that when Adam wanted bread he needed to plough the field, sow the seed, harvest the crop, pile up the sheaves, thresh, winnow, select the ears, sift the flour, knead, and bake. Then and only then could Adam have bread to eat. "But," the rabbi continued, "when I wake up in the morning and want to eat bread, it is readily available." Similarly, the rabbi declared, "when Adam wanted clothes to wear, he had to shear the sheep, wash the wool, comb, spin and weave. Then and only then did he have clothes to wear. But when I wake up and want clothes to wear they are readily available." Of course, the rabbi's economic situation was a lot easier than Adam's because the rabbi depended upon others to perform many of the tasks that Adam had to carry out himself. If dependence was an important fact of life in the pre-industrial world of the Talmud, you can just imagine how many times greater the measure of dependence is in our extraordinarily specialized and technologically sophisticated society. The recent blackout surely makes clear just how dependent we truly are. The vast web of transmission lines, power generating plants and substations that we call the grid came "unplugged," causing serious problems for many millions of people in eight states for almost 27 hours. That grid now has 235,000 miles of wires and cables that carry 230,000 volts or more. As a result of its malfunction untold tons of food spoiled. Apartment dwellers had to climb to their residences on unlighted stairwells. Dead computers locked away phone numbers. With no live outlets to plug into, cell phones gradually ran out of juice. Inoperative ATM's meant that even some people who were lucky enough to find open stores with flashlights on the shelves could not buy them. When the grid is working, dependence makes our lives much safer and more reliable than earlier generations. However, when something goes wrong, terribly serious problems can and do ensue. But the failure of the grid and the fallibility of technology can have constructive consequences that move us to alter our perspectives and revise our priorities. The blackout, for example, caught my wife and me in midtown Manhattan, and for the first time in my life when night fell in Manhattan, I was able to see the stars instead of neon signs. The heavens really provide an infinitely brighter and more awe-inspiring spectacle than all the lights of Broadway combined. Furthermore, instead of going to a show and listening to others, we just enjoyed being with each other without distractions. I went on patrol with the commanding officer of the Midtown North Precinct and was amazed at the capacity of myriads of human beings to be kind and decent to each other in a time of stress. The streets of Times Square were teeming with people camped on the sidewalks, getting along and, for the most part, behaving in an exemplary fashion. There were spontaneous concerts as the denizens undertook to entertain one another. Adam certainly had a far simpler and less dependent life than we have, although that didn't prevent him from getting into trouble. I, for one, prefer to live in our contemporary world with all its complexities and vulnerabilities. We certainly have to deal with gigantic problems and frustrations. Nevertheless, we're still better off in the long run, because by pooling our strength and wisdom, we are very much wiser and more powerful than if we were alone. In spite of all the difficulties, I'm grateful to the blackout of 2003 for reminding us of the human potential. Sometimes, adversity brings out the best in us. If people could only learn to conduct themselves in accordance with that same high standard in normal times, our existence here on Earth could truly be a Garden of Eden.