What do you think of when you see snow?
As a child, the first thought you have is, “NO SCHOOOOL!”
As a parent of young children, the first thought you have is, “What in the world am I going to do with these kids for a full day?!”
As a rabbi, the first thing I thought of when I looked out the window on Friday morning was, “Darn, there goes our minyan…”
What you think of when you see snow has a lot to do with who you are.
Jewish literature has a lot to say about snow. There are halachos of snow, like, can you make a snowball on Shabbos? (no) Can you shovel your walkway from snow on Shabbos? (yes) Can you use snow as a mikvah? (sometimes)
But what I’d like to focus on is the symbolism of snow in Jewish literature.
One approach is to see snow as a hindrance, a challenge, a difficulty, a pain. When it snowed, and I mean really snowed. Not like the 3 inches of snow that you non-Canadians cancel school for… But when it really snows, everything is forced to shut down. Historically, before modern transportation, after a snowstorm, people traveling could be stuck in their location for weeks. Wars were scheduled around the seasons to avoid getting bogged down in the snow. The amount of work that the cold weather in general and snow in particular demanded of us was immense. Making sure the livestock didn’t freeze to death. Making sure the people didn’t freeze to death. Snow was an absolute pain.
Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch writes that snow and the cold season were created by G-d for precisely that reason – to be a pain, to force us to toil, to make our lives complicated. He quotes an opinion found in the Medrash of Bereishis Rabbah that suggests that prior to the great flood there was only one season, spring. The weather was always pleasant and peaceful, which on the one hand is wonderful. At the same time, there is a danger when things are too peaceful. King Shlomo writes in Mishlei, how the devil loves idle hands. Too much peacefulness lends itself to sin. L’fum tzara agra, according to the struggle is the reward, our Sages teach us. We need some tension in our lives, some pressure, some intensity, that is where the real growth is found.
And so, Rav Hirsch suggests, that after the flood, in order to ensure that humankind never becomes too complacent, to ensure that we never fall prey to the dangerous lure of endless relaxation, G-d introduces seasons to the world. And specifically, the cold season with all its difficulties.
Snow according to this approach reminds us of our frailty. How we need to keep ourselves busy to stay out of trouble. How it’s hard to be a good and honest person. Snow reminds us of our spiritual vulnerability.
There are other sources about snow that go even further, associating snow with death. When G-d speaks to Moshe at the burning bush, Moshe tells G-d that the Jewish People are unworthy of redemption. How does G-d respond? By turning Moshe’s hand “white like snow.” Later on, Miriam turns the same color for speaking negatively about Moshe.
The commentators, explaining why snowy white is the color chosen for the punishment, suggest that snow is a lifeless color. It’s the color of death. The message behind Moshe’s hand and Miriam’s skin turning white is that one is undeserving of their life. White is a sickly and deathly color.
Along the same lines, according to the mystics, snow represents the fact that there are times in our Avodas Hashem, in our service to G-d, when we feel cold; there’s no blood pumping, no energy. In Eishes Chayil, we speak of the woman of valor who does not fear snow because her house is “lavush shanim,” it’s weatherproof. What that means is that she is wise enough to navigate the dark and snowy times in her spiritual life. She knows how to ride the inevitable lows as represented by snow.
But not all Jewish sources depict snow as dark and gloomy. Some Jewish sources see in snow majestic beauty. King David creatively describes snow as a source of warmth – hanosen sheleg katzemer. G-d who makes snow like wool. What he was trying to convey by associating snow with wool, the source of warmth is that there is nothing as soothing as snow. Robert Frost uses snow to evoke an almost hypnotic feeling in his famous poem, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, “The woods are lovely, dark, and deep…” There is something magical about a landscape transformed under a blanket of snow. Or even better, the warm and cozy feeling of watching the confetti-like snow slowly falling from the heavens.
King David invokes snow as a sign of G-d’s majesty. When we see that beautiful white tablecloth, the source of cold and the source of inner warmth, we are to see Hashem’s greatness. The Rambam writes that the most straightforward pathway to developing love and awe of the Divine is …
בשעה שיתבונן האדם במעשיו וברואיו הנפלאים הגדולים ויראה מהן חכמתו שאין לה ערך ולא קץ מיד הוא אוהב ומשבח ומפאר ומתאוה תאוה גדולה לידע השם הגדול
When we see something majestic we are expected to see who is behind it. Whose the artist who painted this majestic picture and how do I draw close to Him?
So while the first approach sees within snow a reminder of human frailty, this second approach sees within snow, the majesty of G-d.
Elsewhere, snow is used as a symbol of repentance, “If your sins are red, I will make them white like snow…” The prophet wisely chooses a snowfall to depict change to encourage us – Yes, there is change that is sometimes a total transformation of one’s self. But there is also a change that is skin deep, or snow deep, and it’s still meaningful. The landscape is totally transformed even with a small sprinkle of snow.
So why do I bring this all up?
There is a fascinating set of verses that describe the moment that Moshe transformed from being an intelligent shepherd to the leader of the Jewish People. Moshe sees a bush on fire. He also notices that the bush is not consumed.
וַיֹּ֣אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֔ה אָסֻֽרָה־נָּ֣א וְאֶרְאֶ֔ה אֶת־הַמַּרְאֶ֥ה הַגָּדֹ֖ל הַזֶּ֑ה מַדּ֖וּעַ לֹא־יִבְעַ֥ר הַסְּנֶֽה׃
And Moshe said, “Let me go see this great vision. Why is the thorn bush not consumed by the fire?”
G-d responds by saying, take your shoes off – experience this moment. The desert floor was not filled with snow; but it was hot, it was filled with thorns, pebbles. By telling Moshe to take his shoes off and allow his bare feet to touch and feel the ground, G-d was telling Moshe to stop being a scientist, to stop asking what is going on here and how does this work, and instead to just feel and experience the moment.
We love talking about weather! We love analyzing the weather. How many inches, how much damage, where the storm is coming from, where it’s going. G-d is saying to each and every one of us, just feel the snow – experience it.
Yes, we could still celebrate a day off of work or school. Yes, I will still get nervous about our lack of minyan. But as Jews, we could also see our un-shoveled walkway and be reminded of the frail nature of humankind and the necessity of the seasons as Rav Hirsch taught us. We could look at the beautiful white and warm blanket and just stand in awe of G-d’s creation like the Rambam poetically wrote. We could be reminded of the times that we feel dead inside and take this moment to reflect on the fact that gam zeh ya’avar, bad times, like bad weather will pass and we’ll get reenergized sooner or later. Or we could remind ourselves that like a snowfall that transforms the landscape, we are all capable of taking small steps and changing who we are.
To be a Jew is to be a poet. A poet does not see something, even something ordinary, and certainly something out of ordinary, and simply just walk by. A poet is moved and if not naturally moved, the poet removes her shoes, she forces herself to experience and be moved by the world around.
I hope the weather picks up, I really do. I’m freezing and I hate having just barely a minyan. But next time we see it snow, let’s awaken the poet within, let’s awaken our soul and be moved by its beauty and be inspired by its many lessons.