Not Good Enough: D’var Torah for Parashat Noah (Gen. 6:9—11: 32)

Not Good Enough: D’var Torah for Parashat Noah (Gen. 6:9—11: 32)
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

Last week’s Torah portion, B’reishit, introduced light and dark, black and white into the picture. This week’s portion, Noah, brings in shades of grey. “Noah was a just man and perfect in his generations” (Gen. 6:9). The ancient rabbis are quick to comment: “Perfect in his generations” means that for his time, he was righteous. If he had lived in Abraham’s generation, he would not be judged so wholesome.

But what was wrong with Noah? Don’t “just” and “perfect” mean anything? What about that ark, and saving all those animals? Didn’t he save all life and give it a second chance? Didn’t he take care of all those pairs of birds, animals, reptiles—in fact, of every living being on earth—providing for them during the many months they were shut in together in close quarters, with only one window (that couldn’t be opened because of the torrents of rain), with no sail, oars, or rudder? Think of the complaining, the whining, braying and roaring day in and day out (as though you could even tell when it was one and when, the other). Did they have composting yet back then? What DID Noah do with all the accumulated waste?

Truth be told, anybody else would have done something drastic long before the flood ended. But not Noah. Noah was just and perfect, doing exactly as God had told him: Build an ark (about a football field in length), gather pairs of animals, get yourself and your immediate family onboard, because I’m going to flood out the earth and kill everything on it. Everything. And oh yes, take care of and feed all those animals until I tell you it’s OK for you all to come out.

Noah did just so. And that’s where he failed.

When God told Abraham (in an upcoming parashah) about His plans to destroy those evil cities, Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham objected relentlessly. What about the innocent ones? Would God destroy the innocent along with the wicked? Later, when the Israelites wandered in the Sinai Wilderness and worshipped a golden calf, God was about to smite them all, and it took all the persuasion, cajoling, smooth-talking and downright chutzpah before Moses was able to check God’s anger. But Noah? Noah did just so. Not a word, not a peep.

So is it all so wrong to follow God just so? Isn’t that the whole point of religion?

No, it isn’t! Not our religion. Judaism has a special role set aside for human beings, and it is exemplified by the behavior of Abraham, Moses, Job and other prophets. Even Tevya, the milkman, argues with God!

It doesn’t always help, but it can’t hurt; and in fact, as we see in one example after another, it’s the right thing to do. We don’t just accept things the way they seem to be. Not if there’s a chance to change them.

So Noah may have been a very good man; but compared to the truly righteous, he was only pretty good.

Yet, even in this story—one of the most well-known, sung-about, told about and illustrated of the many stories of Genesis—there’s always something new we can learn.

Noah changes along the way. Somewhere between the story’s beginning and its end, something happens inside him to make him realize where he had failed. Perhaps it was all the screaming and crying he must have heard coming in through the ark walls. Despite the pitch and tar with which the ark was waterproofed; despite the heavy rain, the thunder, the waves, the incessant noise inside, the terrible sounds must have come in. There was a whole humanity drowning out there. People lived to be quite old back then—he must have known quite a few of them for decades if not longer. There must have been children.

Did the animals onboard feel the same terror and grief he felt now? They say some animals sense emotions—would they be longing for lost companions? Parents? Offspring left behind?

The ensuing silence must have been even more terrifying.

At some point along the journey, a switch must have gone off and, for the first time, Noah must have sensed compassion. We know that to be so from a short verse that appears towards the end of the story. As we know, Noah sent out a dove to seek out dry land. Failing on its first try, the bird returns. Chapter 8 verse 9 tells us, “then he put forth his hand, and took her, and pulled her in unto him into the ark.” A tiny gesture, and yet so telling. Searching the grey, stormy skies, Noah spies the tiny bird fighting the winds, making its way with great effort back to the tiny window. Cold, wet, shivering, frightened, the dove must have been at the very end of her strength when she finally alighted on his outstretched finger. Gently Noah cups the bird in his palm, pulls her within his dry cloak, and brings her down into the warm compartments within. Was she breathing? Was that the merest breath of life—a gasp for air—coming from the dove? Did Noah say a blessing when he realized that it was? And then? He must have had a bowl of warm gruel fetched for her. The eyes of all were upon the tiny creature as it began to revive. Tears of gratitude must have streamed down his old, furrowed face.

Noah knew where he had failed. Walking with God isn’t good enough. Not when there is suffering around, when injustice abounds. Certainly it isn’t good enough to just say “yes” even to God, when God’s intentions are terrible—no matter how God-like, formidable and daunting He may appear to us.

Noah was a righteous man—for his times. He got much deserved credit. He did manage to bring a remnant of living creatures across an ocean of storms. But it would not be Noah who would get the credit for starting the Jewish People. Someone else—ten generations away yet—will be born courageous enough to argue with God, who will know the lasting value of justice and the importance of teaching it to his children. That person will be Abraham.

©2010 Boaz D. Heilman