Parshat Noach5 min read

Noah's Vineyard, a Demon's Bargain, and a Generation of Ease

Noah planted a vineyard and Ha-Satan arrived to claim a share. Blood of lamb, lion, pig, and monkey fed the soil, and each became a stage of drunkenness.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. What He Planted First
  2. Ha-Satan at the Root of the Vines
  3. Three Men of the Soil
  4. The Generation That Built Children and Destroyed the World

What He Planted First

Noah walked out of the ark into a world with no human beings except his own family. Every field was open. Every hillside was unclaimed. He could have planted anything. He planted a vineyard.

Bereshit Rabbah, the fifth-century CE Palestinian midrash on Genesis, found the choice alarming. Rabbi Abba bar Kahana explained that Noah had brought vine branches, fig branches, and olive branches into the ark -- the Torah's phrase "gather it for you" in Genesis 6:21 indicated that Noah gathered only what he needed for later cultivation. He had planned the vineyard before the flood began. He spent however many months on the water thinking about the day he would press the first grape.

The Hebrew verb for Noah's first action after the flood is vayahel, usually translated as "he began." Rabbi Berekhya read it differently. The same root gives the word hulin, meaning profaned or unholy. Noah began to be profaned. The man who had been called righteous in his generation, the man who built the ark and preserved the living world through the water, stepped off the vessel and became diminished by the choice of what to plant first.

Ha-Satan at the Root of the Vines

Hebraic Literature (1901), the English anthology of rabbinic narrative, preserves the version of the story in which Ha-Satan appeared while Noah was breaking the new ground. In this tradition, Ha-Satan is not a fallen angel or a supernatural adversary. He is the heavenly Accuser, the tester of human character, who works inside the permitted limits of heaven's structure. He walked through the new world, saw Noah working the soil, and asked what was being planted. Noah told him: "Vines, for the pleasure of wine."

"Let me help you," Ha-Satan said.

He went off and came back with four animals: a lamb, a lion, a pig, and a monkey. He slaughtered each of them at the roots of the young vines and fed their blood into the soil as fertilizer. Then he explained the arithmetic of his gift. Those who drink the juice of these grapes, he said, will move through four stages. First, meek and gentle as the lamb -- quiet, soft, still appropriate for company. Then bold and fearless as the lion -- speaking too much, claiming more than their share. Then wallowing like the pig -- the dignity already gone. Then leaping and shrieking like the monkey -- past shame, past sense, past memory of what they were before they sat down to drink.

Three Men of the Soil

Bereshit Rabbah places Noah's fall inside a broader pattern. Three people in the Torah are described by the phrase "man of the soil" or its equivalent, and nothing constructive came from any of them. Cain worked the ground and killed his brother. Noah was a man of the soil and ended drunk in his tent. Uzziah, king of Judah, was a lover of the soil and was struck with leprosy when he usurped the priest's role in the Temple. Three men devoted to the earth, three catastrophes. The earth does not ask these men to fail. It only reveals what was always in them when they turned toward it as their primary devotion.

The Generation That Built Children and Destroyed the World

Bereshit Rabbah also preserves a tradition about the generation of the flood that makes their destruction more disturbing rather than less. They were not people ground down by scarcity or deprivation. They were people of such extraordinary physical ease that a woman gave birth as easily as a hen lays an egg -- labor without labor, in the literal sense. Their children were born in abundance. Their fields were rich. Their bodies were strong. Nothing about their lives was difficult.

And they used all that ease to fill the world with violence. The case against the flood generation was not poverty breeding desperation. It was abundance breeding contempt. When nothing is hard and nothing is limited, the question of what is owed to others, what is owed to God, what is owed to the structure of the world -- that question stops being felt as urgent. Noah survived the flood and planted a vineyard. The vineyard was not a disaster. It was a choice made by a man who had forgotten, or perhaps had never fully understood, what the world outside the ark had looked like before the water came.

NoahFloodWineDemonsGenerations
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From the tradition

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Bereshit Rabbah 36:3Bereshit Rabbah

The Rabbis certainly wondered. Bereshit Rabbah, that incredible collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, dives deep into this seemingly simple verse. It asks, why a vineyard? Why not something more…constructive? A fig tree? An olive branch?

The text even plays on the Hebrew word vayaḥel, "he began," suggesting a connection to the word ḥulin, meaning "profaned" or "unholy." Was Noah’s act somehow a desecration? A stumble after such a monumental achievement?

Where did Noah even get the grapevine shoot? Rabbi Abba bar Kahana offers a fascinating detail: Noah brought vine branches, fig branches, and olive branches into the ark. How do we know? Because of the verse "Gather it for you" (Genesis 6:21) – you only gather what you need! So, Noah was prepared for this moment of re-cultivating the earth.

Back to the question: Why this? Bereshit Rabbah draws a parallel, noting that Noah wasn't the only one described as a "man of the soil." Cain was, too! And so was Uziyahu, the king who loved the soil. The commentary implies a shared characteristic: enthusiasm for the soil, perhaps, but ultimately… something lacking. Something that led to less-than-ideal outcomes.

There's a hint of criticism here, isn't there?

On the other hand, the text also points out the positive aspects of Noah being a "man of the soil." He remade the surface of the soil after the devastation of the flood. Because of him, the soil was watered, and he filled the entire surface of the soil with his descendants. It's a complex picture, a man both praised and subtly critiqued.

Rabbi Berekhya even compares Noah to Moses. After being called righteous, Noah is then called "a man of the soil," a possible diminishing in stature. Moses, on the other hand, after being referred to as "an Egyptian man," is elevated to "the man of God." It's a fascinating comparison, highlighting the different trajectories of these two monumental figures.

And then there's the encounter with the demon Shemadon. As Noah plants his vineyard, this demonic figure appears, offering a partnership. "Wine in moderation can be a positive factor," Shemadon says, "but too much brings one into the demon’s domain." It's a cautionary tale, a reminder of the potential dangers of excess, of losing control. "Be careful that you do not enter into my domain, and if you enter my domain, I will harm you."

So, what are we to make of all this? Was Noah's choice a mistake? Perhaps the Rabbis are reminding us that even the most righteous among us are fallible. That even after the most world-altering events, the potential for error, for misjudgment, remains. And maybe, just maybe, they're suggesting that even in the act of rebuilding, we need to be mindful, deliberate, and aware of the potential pitfalls that lie ahead.

Or maybe, it's simply a reminder that even after the flood, human nature, with all its complexities and contradictions, persists. What do you think?

Full source
Midrash Tanchuma, Noach; Yalkut Shimoni on GenesisHebraic Literature (1901)

After the flood, Noah broke fresh ground for a vineyard. He had tasted the grape and prized it twice, for its fruit and for its juice.

As he worked, Ha-Satan, the heavenly Accuser, who in Jewish tradition works as a tester of human character, came walking through the new world. He asked what Noah was planting. Noah told him: vines, for the pleasure of wine.

"Let me help you," Ha-Satan said.

He went off and returned with four animals: a lamb, a lion, a pig, and a monkey. He slaughtered each at the roots of the young vines and fed their blood into the soil as fertilizer.

When the work was done, he stepped back and explained the arithmetic of his gift. "Of those who drink the juice of these grapes," he said, "some will turn meek and gentle as the lamb. Some will grow bold and fearless as the lion. Some will become foul and beastly as the pig. And some will grow frolicsome and senseless as the monkey."

The four stages of any drinker, sweetness, courage, ugliness, foolishness, were planted in the soil that first afternoon.

The teaching is preserved in Midrash Tanchuma on Noach and in Yalkut Shimoni on Genesis. Ha-Satan did not poison the vine. He only named what it does.

Full source
Yalkut Shimoni on Torah 61:9Yalkut Shimoni on Torah

"And Noah began" (Genesis 9:20). He was profaned and made common. Why? "And he planted a vineyard." Should he not rather have planted something useful, an olive shoot or a fig sucker? And from where did he get the vine? He had brought saplings and shoots into the ark with him, suckers for olives and shoots for figs, as it is written, "And gather it to you" (Genesis 6:21); a person gathers a thing only if he needs it. "A man of the soil": above it is written of Cain, "And Cain was a tiller of the soil." "A man of the soil": for he gave a face to the soil; through him the soil was moistened, and he filled the whole face of the soil. A "man of the soil" is like a citizen named for his standing.

Moses was more beloved than Noah. Noah, after being called "a righteous man," was called "a man of the soil." But Moses, after being called "an Egyptian man" (Exodus 2:19), was called "a man of God," for in his end he was godlike. "And he planted a vineyard": when he went to plant, the demon Shamdon met him and said, "Be my partner; but take care not to enter into my portion, and if you enter into my portion I will injure you." The teacher Ovar of Galilee expounded: thirteen vavs ["and" letters] are said concerning wine.

"And Noah the man of the soil began, and he knew what had been done to him." Rav and Shmuel: one said Ham castrated him, and one said he sodomized him. It is written here, "And Ham the father of Canaan saw," and it is written there, "And Shechem son of Hamor saw her" (Genesis 34:2). According to the one who says he castrated him, he cursed him in the fourth son because he ruined him with respect to a fourth son. According to the one who says he sodomized him, why specifically the fourth son? Let him curse him outright. In truth, both acts occurred.

"And Noah the man of the soil began": the Holy One, blessed be He, said to Noah, "Should you not have learned from the first man, to whom nothing brought ruin except wine?" This follows the one who says the tree from which the first man ate was a vine, for there is nothing that brings wailing into the world except wine. "And he planted a vineyard" (Genesis 9:20-23). He found a vine swept out from the Garden of Eden with its clusters upon it, and he planted from its fruit and ate and rejoiced in his heart, as it is said, "that cheers God and men" (Judges 9:13). That same day its fruits ripened, and he drank of it and was uncovered. Canaan entered and saw Noah's nakedness, tied a cord around his organ and castrated him; he went out and told his brothers. Then Ham entered and saw and paid no heed to the commandment of honoring a parent, and told his two brothers outside as one mocking his father; and his two brothers rebuked him, as it is said, "And Shem and Japheth took."

The Holy One, blessed be He, brought Abraham into the world only as the reward of Shem, who prophesied to all the nations of the world four hundred years and they did not accept from him. He brought the kingdom of Greece into the world only as the reward of Japheth, who showed honor to his father. He brought the kingdom of Rome into the world only as the reward of Esau, who wept and groaned when Isaac blessed our father Jacob. He brought Sennacherib into the world only on account of Assyria, who was a fitting man and a counselor of our father Abraham. He brought Nebuchadnezzar into the world only as the reward of Merodach, who showed honor to our Father in Heaven. He brought Media into the world only as the reward of Cyrus, who wept and groaned when the nations destroyed the Temple. He brought Haman into the world only as the reward of Agag, who wept and groaned while imprisoned in the dungeon, lest his seed perish from the world.

"And he planted a vineyard": Satan came to meet him and said, "Do you wish that you and I plant it together?" He said, "Yes." At once Satan first brought a lamb and slaughtered it over the vine; then he brought a lion and slaughtered it over the vine; then a pig and slaughtered it over the vine. Why did Satan do this? When a person drinks one cup, he is like a lamb, humble and lowly of spirit; when he drinks two cups, at once he becomes mighty as a lion and begins to speak grandly and says, "Who is like me?"; and when he drinks three or four, at once he becomes like a pig that wallows in mud and filth, so too he becomes befouled, even with his own urine.

Full source
Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 23:12Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

The familiar picture has him releasing the dove, seeing the rainbow, and then… silence. But life, as it always does, went on. And with life, came choices, mistakes, and some pretty strange happenings.

The Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating text that fills in gaps in the biblical narrative, gives us a glimpse into what happened next. It tells us that Noah, after disembarking, stumbled upon a vine. Not just any vine, but one that had sprung forth from the Garden of Eden itself!

This vine, laden with fruit, offered Noah solace. He ate, he rejoiced. As (Judges 9:13) says, "My wine, which cheereth God and man." Noah, perhaps seeking to recreate this moment of joy, planted a vineyard. It’s an echo of the rapid growth described in (Isaiah 17:11), "In the day of thy planting thou dost make it grow, and in the morning thou makest thy seed to blossom."

Intrigued? Intoxicated? Noah certainly was.

He drank of the wine, and, well, he got drunk. Really drunk. (Genesis 9:21) tells us, "And he drank of the wine, and was drunken; and he was uncovered within his tent."

Now, this is where things get really strange.

Canaan, the son of Ham, enters the tent and sees Noah's nakedness. What does he do? According to Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, he doesn’t just look away. He performs a horrific act: he binds a thread around Noah's genitals, emasculating him. It's a shocking detail, and one that's not found in the biblical text itself.

He then runs and tells his brothers. Ham, upon seeing his father’s state, doesn’t show respect. Instead, he goes to the marketplace and mocks Noah, making light of his father’s shame.

Shem and Japheth, however, react differently. They are filled with horror and respect. What did they do? They took a curtain, the Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer specifies it was "the curtain of the east," and walking backwards so as not to gaze upon their father's nakedness, they covered him. As (Genesis 9:23) says, "And Shem and Japheth took a garment, and laid it upon both their shoulders, and went backward, and covered the nakedness of their father; and their faces were backward, and they saw not their father's nakedness."

This episode, filled with Edenic vines, drunken exposure, and shocking disrespect, raises so many questions. Why this strange detail about Canaan’s actions? Why the emphasis on the brothers’ reverence? What does it all mean?

Perhaps it's a cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked power, the importance of honoring one's parents, and the lasting consequences of even a single, terrible act. It's a reminder that even after a world-altering event like the flood, human nature, with all its flaws and potential for both cruelty and compassion, remains stubbornly present. And maybe, just maybe, it's a reminder that even in the face of profound imperfection, respect and reverence can still prevail.

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