This column often attempts to demonstrate that the Torah anticipated and preceded all future discoveries and inventions. In point of fact, this type of endeavor should be superfluous, since Chazal (Avos 5:26) have already taught us, “Delve into it [the Torah] and continue to delve into it [the Torah] for everything is in it.”
Sometimes this fact is more obvious than others. One example is a new book by Simon Winchester, a prolific author who has written books about earthquakes, geology, meteorology and much more. His latest contribution is “The Breath of the G–ds: The History and Future of the Wind.” I must confess that I didn’t read the book, only a book review in the New York Times Sunday Book Review (January 4, 2026).
Our first reference actually comes from the reviewer, Joshua Hammer, who recalls experiencing one of author’s most dramatic wind examples, the “Mistral.” This is “a punishing north-north-westerly wind that…has allegedly driven men to madness.” Mr. Winchester records that this wind can “cause an eruption of domestic anger — even the murder of a spouse.” This wind has even been used in court claiming “the wind made me do it; in other words, it has some value as a defense.”
As usual, our sages were there first. The Talmud (Yerushalmi, Taanis 9b) teaches that “if the north wind blows before the rainy season begins, it indicates that there will be a shortage of rainfall throughout the year. Therefore, send even your small children out to pray for rain.” However, Rav Chaim Kanievsky translates that to mean that “if the north wind blows the earth during the summer, one should fasten his bricks during the winter,” meaning that without extensive preparations, everything on the farm may disintegrate. This certainly presages the scientific “discovery” that north winds can be destructive and require serious preparations for the safety of one’s family and property.
Chazal (Bava Basra 25b) also reveal the source of the north wind’s great power. Rebbi Eliezer quotes a posuk, “From the inner chamber comes the whirlwind,” which he interprets as “the south wind.” The posuk then continues, “And from the dispersed parts,” as referring to “the north wind,” which comes from the open side of the world.” The Gemara later quotes another posuk, which states that “out of the north the evil shall open (come forth) upon all the inhabitants of the land” (Yirmiyohu 1:14). The novi here is warning Klal Yisroel that the imminent destruction of the Land will come from an invasion from the north.
The general source of this fear of the north seems to be the language of the Medrash (Bamidbar Rabbah 2:10): “Hashem created four directions in the world. The light comes from the east. The west retains the treasuries of snow, hail, cold and heat that penetrate into the world. The south holds the blessings of dew and rain that go out into the world. The darkness emerges from the north, from where it goes out to the world.”
To be sure, Mr. Winchester makes some fascinating points about the influence the winds have had upon history. He cites three examples, as enumerated in the book review. The first is that “a sudden westerly wind helped destroy the Spanish Armada in 1588, probably saving Queen Elizabeth and her protestant countrymen from conquest by the Catholic King Philip II.” Perhaps one can extrapolate, without any certainty of course, that Spain was being punished for the Inquisition and Expulsion of the 15th century.
Another intervention involving the wind came on June 6th, 1944, when “the interplay of wind and waves was the ideal moment for the Allied invasion of Europe.” Interestingly, his next example is about the more recent “1986 southeasterly winds bearing radioactive particles [that] alerted the world to the Chernobyl disaster, exposing the moral bankruptcy of the Soviet regime.”
We know, obviously, that these winds were not random meteorological phenomena but a fulfillment of Chazal’s teaching that harbeh shluchim laMakom, Hashem has many representatives to do His bidding. As always, each of these events, with these Divine interventions from Above, affected our people profoundly and positively.
To look a bit deeper into the winds and their directions, we return to the Medrash mentioned earlier, where it continues that “Hashem created four directions in the world, corresponding to the four degalim in the midbar. In the east, He placed Moshe Rabbeinu, from whom the light of the Torah emanated to Klal Yisroel. There, too, was shevet Yehudah, representing the royalty of Klal Yisroel, shevet Yissochor, who was the embodiment of Torah, and Zevulun, who symbolized wealth [and the support of Torah]. In the north, where shevet Reuvein resided, dew and rain would flow, since Reuvein did teshuvah. The north stood for darkness, since shevet Don dwelled there, which worshipped [at some point] idols and produced Yerovom Ben Nevot, who caused the terrible schism in Klal Yisroel (Bamidbar Rabbah 2:9).
The Ohr Chodosh (see also Chochmas Hamatzpun, Vayeilech, page 486) raises an important issue here. Shevet Don did not actually erect the idol. It was done by Yerovom Ben Nevot from shevet Efraim, so why is shevet Don identified as the culprit? He answers that this is indeed the source of the fact that the one who facilitates and enables others to sin is even worse than the one who sins himself. Conversely, since we know that the positive side of an issue is even greater than the negative, one who facilitates and enables people to do mitzvos and grow in their learning and observance is even greater than the one who performed that very mitzvah. Thus, the winds and other servants of the Creator may be seen as opportunities and frameworks for whatever a human being with free will wishes to accomplish. Some conditions and venues are better than others for such accomplishments or dangerous for one’s spiritual lives, but we can always grow under difficult circumstances or, G-d forbid, fail even when spiritual success seems assured.
A number of the Chassidic rebbes responded the same way when they received a complaint from a chossid about the darkness in their lives. They would lament that the amount of money they had, the state of their health, their families, etc. were making it so difficult to be a good Jew. The answer always was, “Who told you that Hashem wants your easy fulfillment of mitzvos?” Hashem cherishes and glories in those who overcome the darkness and create their own light by learning and performing the commandments despite, not because of, the conditions. This may be one way to view the winds and directions. They do not predetermine what will happen. Like so much of life, they are part of the test. Rav Eliyohu Eliezer Dessler (Michtov M’Eliyohu) often points out that our nekudas habechirah — threshold of free will — grows as we grow older and hopefully wiser.
The contemporary example of this is that when one of us walks by a Burger King and does not run in for a cheeseburger, we get no credit. But the recently minted baal teshuvah, who has just given up eating bosor becholov, is rewarded handsomely by heaven for deciding not to do the natural and enjoyable thing because it is the right thing to do. On the other hand, if we, G-d forbid, enjoy a juicy piece of lashon hara and we walk past people who are engaging in such, we do receive reward in this world and the next. No, it doesn’t matter as much which way the wind is blowing as where we are forcing our legs to take us.
A personal recollection, if I may. As a child of survivors, I attended many “hazkaros.” These were the annual days that various communities chose to commemorate the destruction of their cities and, by extension, usually the yahrzeits of their loved ones. My father’s city was the Polish Stremyiashitz and my mother’s the Hungarian Chust. These were actually not the sad occasions one might think they had to be. These heroes were full of life, celebrating those who were alive and often the new children who replaced, so to speak, their first families. One of the stories I often heard involved the wind. Many of the concentration and labor camps were ironically close to shuls that had been destroyed, but occasionally the prisoners benefitted from the proximity.
Probably miraculously, but certainly by open Hashgocha Protis, the wind would bring a page from a Chumash, Gemara or some other sefer to the otherwise horrific camp. My parents and their friends would recall with excitement and gratitude the page that fell into their trembling hands. They would kiss the humble relic, learn its holy words, and then pass it on to someone else. This was surely a gift from heaven and a sign that there was always hope. I don’t know if it was a north, south, east or west wind, but I do know that the direction didn’t matter. It came from above and it landed in the heart. That is the true message, which our author and reviewer might never understand. On a windy day, such as recently, as I am closing up my coat and putting on my earmuffs, I think of our very recent ancestors and how, wearing barely enough to stay alive in the harsh European winters, they looked forward to the wind that would bring them hope for the future. For them, even the Mistral harsh north wind could be a kiss from the Ribono Shel Olam just when they needed it.
