ויאמרו הבה נבנה לנו עיר ומגדל וראשו בשמים ונעשה לנו שם פן נפוץ על פני כל הארץ
“And they said, “Come, let us build us a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed across the whole earth.” (Bereishis 11:4)
The Gemara (Sanhedrin 109a) tells us that the members of the Dor Haflagah were divided into three factions, each of which received a different punishment. One planned on climbing up to the heavens and settling there; they were punished by being dispersed. The second group planned on going up and waging war against Hashem; Hashem punished that group by turning them into monkeys, spirits, and demons. The last faction wanted to ascend in order to serve idols; Hashem confused them by causing each of them to speak a different language, making it impossible for them to communicate with each other (Bereishis 11:9).
When one sees an elephant or monkey, one makes the berachah: “Baruch...meshaneh habriyos — Blessed is He...Who makes the creatures different” (Berachos 58b; see also Orach Chaim 225:8). Every creation is different from another, and these two are hardly the most unique animals in the world, so why make this blessing specifically on these two animals?
According to the Meiri (Berachos 58b), the berachah is said only on these two animals because they are similar to man in several ways. (See Halichos Shlomah, Tefillah 23:35; Yalkut Yosef, Berachos Pratiyos 21, fn.)
The sefer Meleches Shlomah (Kelayim 8:6, cited in VeShallal Lo Yechsar) explains that since the second of the three factions of the Dor Haflagah became monkeys and elephants, monkeys share some features with humans, and elephants can understand some human language. Hence, notwithstanding the exoticness of many other creatures, the berachah of “meshaneh habriyos,” which literally means “alters the creatures,” is appropriate only for these two animals; they both were originally human beings but were altered.
Rav Ya’akov Kamenetsky (Emes Le’Yaakov, Orach Chaim 225) cites the Rambam (Hilchos Berachos 6:13), who says that even a monkey can pour the water on one’s hands for netilas yodayim. The Ra’avad asks: Don’t we need “koach gavra — human force” to at least initiate the pouring of the water, a factor that the monkey is lacking? The Migdal Oz counters that since a monkey imitates human behavior, his pouring could be considered koach gavra. The Migdal Oz then cites many examples from the Gemara in which the actions of monkeys have halachic significance.
Rav Ya’akov concludes that in light of the Gemara mentioned above (Sanhedrin 109a), it is perhaps understandable that these two animals have at least some vestige of humanity, which allows them to accomplish actions that would otherwise require a human. And this explains why we make the berachah specifically on these two animals, which were once really humans, and subsequently underwent a change.
While this discussion of monkeys and elephants has halachic bearing, it also teaches us two powerful lessons. In the second pasuk of Koheles, as Shlomah HaMelech describes the physical world, he employs seven “havalim.” (According to Medrash Tehillim 92, each time the word “hevel” is used, that counts as 1 and each time the word “havalim,” which is plural, is used, that counts as 2; in this pasuk, “hevel” appears 3 times; 3x1=3; and “havalim” appears 2 times; 2x2=4, which adds up to 7.) The Medrash (Koheles Rabbah 1:3) explains that the seven “havalim” allude to the seven stages of a person’s life. At one year of age, man can be likened to a king, doted upon by all. At two and three, he is like a pig, groping around in the garbage. At ten, he prances around like a baby goat, never sitting still for even a moment. At twenty, he is compared to a horse, preening and grooming himself in search of a mate. When he takes upon himself the responsibility of marriage, he is like a donkey that carries a burden on its back. When he has children, he becomes brazen as a dog trying to find food and money to feed his family. And when he grows old and reaches the seventh stage, he becomes like a monkey. (See the end of this Medrash for a different and more optimistic view of the end of life in regard to bnei Torah.)
A simple way to understand the comparison of man to a monkey in his final stage of life is that he becomes hunched over and senile, slightly resembling a knuckle-dragging monkey running around in the jungle.
The Kotzker Rebbe (cited in Michael Be’Achas, p. 287; and in Shem MiShmuel, Beshalach 5672) has a different explanation. What does every child know about monkeys? “Monkey see, monkey do.” Monkeys imitate and mimic humans. They imitate, but do not innovate. They just repeat old behaviors. They do nothing new.
Just like the adage goes, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” Chazal used a monkey as the focus of this most important lesson. At a certain point, we get old, and we stop trying to improve ourselves and attain greater spiritual heights. We are content to live out our remaining days as a mere imitation of ourselves! Therefore, while still young, we must work on ourselves to develop and perfect our middos; later we will merely be living off of the level of development achieved in our youth.
There is another powerful lesson to be taken from here. In Shevet Mussar (47:2), Rav Eliyohu HaKohen of Izmir writes that monkeys mimic human behavior because they are desperate to regain what they lost. Before the incident in which they tried to build a tower to the heavens, they were true humans, with all the inherent responsibilities and abilities. Seeing all that we are, and all that they are not, creates a terrible longing for the good old days. Such is the pain they endure when reflecting on their fate.
Says the Shevet Mussar, a monkey realizes what it lost out on, living a life of regret. A human should contemplate this and live up to his potential — so he doesn’t have to look back at the end of his life with regret.
If a monkey attempts to mimic the behavior of the superior human, shouldn’t we take this to heart, and live the way that the superior human should be living? (R’ Avraham Bukspan, Classics and Beyond 2)
