Parshat Noach 5784 (2023)

In this week’s parshah, we find a famous story with which we are all familiar. Feeling that humanity has become wicked beyond redemption, God decides to annihilate our entire species except for the members of a single family. Noah, who is described as “a perfectly righteous person in his generation,” and a man who “walked with God” (Genesis 6:9), is then instructed to construct an ark in order to save his relatives as well as all of the animals in the world.

We love to teach this story to children, because of all the cute animals and the final rainbow where God promises never to destroy the world by flood again, but few of us really put ourselves in Noah’s shoes.

Noah, even though he had faith in God, was certainly terrified. Picture it. Picture yourself in his position. You built a massive ark, the animals start to come, and then it begins to rain.

And it just doesn’t stop. It rains, and rains and rains. Rains like you have never seen before. You hope you built the boat correctly, but you’re not sure. And as you doubt yourself, doubt God, and try to put on a strong and confident face for your family, it continues to rain, and you watch as the entire world is swallowed up by the flood.

This very much mirrors our world right now. Each day we wake up, look at our phones, and are bombarded by a flood of news about the war in Israel. We read about death, see reports about the hostages, and before we even begin our daily business, we start the day off with our heads deep under water.Then we go to work, or to class, or get our kids ready for school, and hear about an antisemitic attack somewhere in Europe or even in Beijing.

The flood waters are gathering on all sides, and it feels as if the rain will never stop.

So, how do we go on? How do we navigate this situation without drowning?

The Torah describes Noah as “a man who walked with God” and was “a perfectly righteous person in his generation.” In his generation. This language led our rabbis to question whether or not Noah was truly righteous at all. We know that the generation of Noah was very, very wicked. So, for Noah to be “perfectly righteous in his generation,” might actually mean he was a pretty awful person, since the standard was so low. Had he lived in the generation of Abraham, or King David, or even our generation, maybe Noah would have been considered wicked! Perhaps it was only in his wicked generation that Noah was considered righteous.

If this is in fact the case, what did Noah do that that would make us consider him not the best person?

In the Zohar, the most important book of Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism, we find a conversation between God and Noah that is not found in the Biblical text. According to the Zohar, after the flood waters went away and Noah left the ark, he began to weep for the countless lives that had been lost. However, God immediately rebukes Noah, saying:

“Fool! It is only now, after the world’s population has been destroyed that you choose to weep. You should have wept for them before the flood [in the hopes that I would have spared them] (Zohar Chadash: Noach, 24-25).”

According to Rabbi Nathan of Nemirov (1780-1844), the key disciple of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov (1772-1810), Noah’s lack of righteousness stemmed from the fact that he “walked with God.” We would think someone walking with God is an amazing spiritual level to reach, but it did not reach the level of piety that Abraham or Moses did. Unlike Abraham, who bargained with God in an attempt to save the people of Sodom and Gomorrah, and Moses, whom our rabbis tell us was willing to sacrifice himself to save the Israelites from God’s fury over the golden calf, Noah was satisfied with hiding within the ark he had built.

Thus, the fact that “Noah walked with God,” is not complimentary. Rather, it was the Torah’s way of rebuking Noah for distancing himself from the people around him.

Right now, while the flood waters are gathering all around us and it seems as though the rain will never stop, we have to make sure while we protect ourselves, we don’t hide behind our own walls. It is a time to build stronger bridges, stronger connections between others. We are not alone. Not in the world, and not here in this community. We are all connected to one another.

This past Wednesday, Sonia and I went to National Taiwan University (Taida) to give a lecture about Judaism to university students. Just yesterday, we went all the way to Yilan to give a talk to give a talk to a group of Buddhist monks and nuns at Fo Guang University, a major Buddhist university. Before the talk, one of the organizers asked me if I was still up for it, for they knew I must be under a lot of stress right now with the war in Israel, and said if not, that they totally understood. They also said that there may monks from Muslim countries who might not be so happy to see me there, and they wanted me to be aware of that possibility.

In other words, they appreciated the downpour and flood which I am struggling with, and let me know it would be OK if I preferred to remain within the safety of my own, personal ark.

I let them know that I sincerely appreciated their compassion, but I would still be there, because right now, more than ever, it is important to show up and build bridges. In other words, it isn’t the time to simply “walk with God,” it is a time to be among the people.

So we went there, I wore my kippah while speaking about how to do religious fieldwork, and everything was great. Most of the students didn’t ask me about my research, but about our shul, for they were really surprised that Taiwan has a synagogue! And such a thriving one at that.

So I urge you now, while it might seem like the best thing to do is to turn inwards, to take shelter behind your own walls, right now is definitely the time to show up, stand up, and build bridges.

Just like Noah, who watches as the entire world disappeared, we are scared. We weep for those who have already passed on, and are worried about those who are still standing outside as the rain continues to fall. Yet, also like Noah, we have to remember that the rains WILL stop, our world WILL return, and it is our job to decide—NOW—what that world will look like.

Shabbat Shalom.