Parashat Noach opens with the words, "These are the generations of Noach, Noach was a righteous man, complete in his generation."[1] The rabbis disagreed over the meaning of the modifier 'b'dorotav,’ 'in his generation.' Rashi explains: "There are those who explicate it [bdorotav] for praise: had he [Noach] lived in a righteous generation, all the more so would he have been more righteous. And there are those who explicate it for condemnation: according to his generation he was righteous, but had he lived in the generation of Abraham he would not have been considered anything."[2]
These seemingly opposing explanations, however, are not irreconcilable. We can accept the position that Noach would have been even more righteous had he not been surrounded by such a morally corrupt society, that his environment somehow limited the level of righteousness he could achieve. At the same time, we can maintain that Noach's noteworthiness was indeed only relative to the low standards of his generation.
Even if we accept that he was somehow handicapped by the destructive generation of the flood, what other factors, we may ask, distinguish Noach from Abraham, our archetypal tzadik,? A key difference is evident in their response to God's announcement of impending doom. Noach is unequivocally obedient to God's wishes. He carefully follows God's instructions—the phrase "and Noach did according to everything that God had commanded him"[3] appears twice in the lead-up to the flood. Noach does not, however, raise any objection to God's plan to destroy the world. Humanity in its entirety, save for Noach's own family, is about to be wiped out and he does not say a word. In fact, Noach is silent throughout the whole episode. The first and only time we hear from Noach is when he awakes from his post-flood drunkenness.
Abraham, in contrast, upon hearing of the impending destruction not of the entire world but merely of the sinful cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, brazenly raises his voice in protest against God. He does not accept God's judgment as final and bargains for the possibility of a reprieve.
An additional distinction, occasionally cited to explain why Abraham was chosen to be the father of the Jewish people rather than Noach, is that whereas Abraham was able to spread the message of God to others, Noach never succeeded in doing so. Noach spent 120 years building the ark, [4] yet in that time he never persuaded those around him to change their ways. The word Noach literally means 'rest' or 'comfort'—he was comfortable in his own righteousness but did not have the activist streak needed to help others.
Thus we can identify three main limitations to Noach: firstly, that his surrounding society in some way inhibited him from being more righteous; secondly, that he accepted destruction as inevitable and did not attempt to prevent it; and thirdly, comfortable in his own righteousness he was unable to transmit a message of justice to others.
Author: Daniel Bloom
Many of us may share Noach’s struggles. Some of us identify with the second challenge, that of action when our deeds seem insignificant in the face of powerful entities. Or perhaps the difficulty in effecting change in others without wanting to give up too much of ourselves. Application of the societal/generational limitation is less obvious, but one might (for praise or condemnation) see a parallel between Noach and the position of justice activists living in the West. On one hand, there are countless ways in which we may demonstrate expressions of moral uprightness, such as volunteering, supporting charities or advocating for action on Darfur. On the other hand, we are in a sense limited by the sins and power of our society.
For example, even the most scrupulous amongst us consumes the earth's resources in a manner that is wholly unsustainable and disproportionate to our number. Additionally, our relative affluence in the global arena poses difficult questions. How can we justify discretionary spending when tens of thousands of people die each day for want of a few dollars' worth of assistance?[5] Given then the relative utility of money spent on aid versus spending that same money on ourselves, does not even our non-discretionary 'cost of living' expenditure also come into question? The most prominent proponent of this argument is the philosopher Peter Singer, who while tithing 25% of his income to aid organizations, confesses to struggling with and falling well short of his own rigorous standards. [6] Like Noach we may, even if counted amongst the righteous of our generation, find ourselves simultaneously limited by our surrounding society.
Noach’s shortfalls are ultimately three expressions of the concept that with power comes responsibility. It could be the power of status, or the power of righteousness itself. Even if we are not always cognizant of the power we have, Peter Singer reminds us that we have great financial power and challenges us to respond to its obligations. It is a burden we should be thankful to accept.
[2] Rashi on Bereshit 6:9, Sanhedrin 108a
[3] Bereshit 6:22, 7:5
[4] Midrash Tanhuma, Noach 5
[5] http://www.unicefusa.org/campaigns/believe-in-zero/
[6]Singer, Peter, "Famine, Affluence, and Morality", Philosophy and Public Affairs, vol. 1, no. 3 (Spring 1972), pp. 229-243. (Available online at http://www.utilitarian.net/singer/by/1972----.htm)
Adapted for Hazon from Daniel's piece for AJWS. Discusses the challenge of the "righteous" descriptor used to describe Noah and the complications of this description.