(ט) אֵ֚לֶּה תּוֹלְדֹ֣ת נֹ֔חַ נֹ֗חַ אִ֥ישׁ צַדִּ֛יק תָּמִ֥ים הָיָ֖ה בְּדֹֽרֹתָ֑יו אֶת־הָֽאֱלֹקִ֖ים הִֽתְהַלֶּךְ־נֹֽחַ׃ (י) וַיּ֥וֹלֶד נֹ֖חַ שְׁלֹשָׁ֣ה בָנִ֑ים אֶת־שֵׁ֖ם אֶת־חָ֥ם וְאֶת־יָֽפֶת׃ (יא) וַתִּשָּׁחֵ֥ת הָאָ֖רֶץ לִפְנֵ֣י הָֽאֱלֹקִ֑ים וַתִּמָּלֵ֥א הָאָ֖רֶץ חָמָֽס׃ (יב) וַיַּ֧רְא אֱלֹקִ֛ים אֶת־הָאָ֖רֶץ וְהִנֵּ֣ה נִשְׁחָ֑תָה כִּֽי־הִשְׁחִ֧ית כׇּל־בָּשָׂ֛ר אֶת־דַּרְכּ֖וֹ עַל־הָאָֽרֶץ׃ {ס}(יג) וַיֹּ֨אמֶר אֱלֹקִ֜ים לְנֹ֗חַ קֵ֤ץ כׇּל־בָּשָׂר֙ בָּ֣א לְפָנַ֔י כִּֽי־מָלְאָ֥ה הָאָ֛רֶץ חָמָ֖ס מִפְּנֵיהֶ֑ם וְהִנְנִ֥י מַשְׁחִיתָ֖ם אֶת־הָאָֽרֶץ׃ (יד) עֲשֵׂ֤ה לְךָ֙ תֵּבַ֣ת עֲצֵי־גֹ֔פֶר קִנִּ֖ים תַּֽעֲשֶׂ֣ה אֶת־הַתֵּבָ֑ה וְכָֽפַרְתָּ֥ אֹתָ֛הּ מִבַּ֥יִת וּמִח֖וּץ בַּכֹּֽפֶר׃
(9) This is the line of Noah.—Noah was a righteous man; he was blameless in his age; Noah walked with God.— (10) Noah begot three sons: Shem, Ham, and Japheth. (11) The earth became corrupt before God; the earth was filled with lawlessness. (12) When God saw how corrupt the earth was, for all flesh had corrupted its ways on earth, (13) God said to Noah, “I have decided to put an end to all flesh, for the earth is filled with lawlessness because of them: I am about to destroy them with the earth. (14) Make yourself an ark of gopher wood; make it an ark with compartments, and cover it inside and out with pitch.
(16) Make an opening for daylight in the ark, and terminate it within a cubit of the top. Put the entrance to the ark in its side; make it with bottom, second, and third decks.
(א) צהר. יֵ"אֹ חַלּוֹן וְיֵ"אֹ אֶבֶן טוֹבָה הַמְּאִירָה לָהֶם (ב"ר שם): (ב) ואל אמה תכלנה מלמעלה. כִּסּוּיָהּ מְשֻׁפָּע וְעוֹלֶה עַד שֶׁהוּא קָצָר מִלְמַעְלָה וְעוֹמֵד עַל אַמָּה כְּדֵי שֶׁיָּזוּבוּ הַמַּיִם לְמַטָּה מִכָּאן וּמִכָּאן: (ג) בצדה תשים. שֶׁלֹּא יִפְּלוּ הַגְּשָׁמִים בָּהּ:
(1) צהר A LIGHT — Some say this was a window; others say that it was a precious stone that gave light to them (Genesis Rabbah 31:11).
(ו) וַיְהִ֕י מִקֵּ֖ץ אַרְבָּעִ֣ים י֑וֹם וַיִּפְתַּ֣ח נֹ֔חַ אֶת־חַלּ֥וֹן הַתֵּבָ֖ה אֲשֶׁ֥ר עָשָֽׂה׃ (ז) וַיְשַׁלַּ֖ח אֶת־הָֽעֹרֵ֑ב וַיֵּצֵ֤א יָצוֹא֙ וָשׁ֔וֹב עַד־יְבֹ֥שֶׁת הַמַּ֖יִם מֵעַ֥ל הָאָֽרֶץ׃ (ח) וַיְשַׁלַּ֥ח אֶת־הַיּוֹנָ֖ה מֵאִתּ֑וֹ לִרְאוֹת֙ הֲקַ֣לּוּ הַמַּ֔יִם מֵעַ֖ל פְּנֵ֥י הָֽאֲדָמָֽה׃
(6) At the end of forty days, Noah opened the window of the ark that he had made (7) and sent out the raven; it went to and fro until the waters had dried up from the earth. (8) Then he sent out the dove to see whether the waters had decreased from the surface of the ground.
This stone that generates its own light is a beautiful metaphor for resilience. Meaning is not found within the adversity and tragedy; meaning is found within the inner resources of our being. We regain our balance through the courage it takes to live with mystery and ambiguity. We live in a vast sea of unknowable, confusing, and ambiguous living. There is so much we simply do not know and will never understand. Faith is not blind. Faith is not a simplistic connecting of the dots. Faith takes root within the constant struggle to know the limits of our humanity, living on the seam of what we can know and what is simply unknowable.
The thing about the window on the ark is that it also brings the outside world in.
Before the flood, Noah was not concerned with the brokenness around him. The Torah tells us Noah walked with God, and the commentary Rav Yitzchak Abravanel explains that this means Noah didn’t engage the people of his time at all. There was corruption and a devaluing of human life, and widespread theft and so much more that he wasn’t paying attention to. And I don’t imagine Noah looked out the window of his ark much at the beginning either. It might have been too difficult to attend to his own distress and also witness the loss of life outside.
But when it got quiet, after the rains stopped, Noah could look outside again. When we are scared and overwhelmed, it can be hard to look beyond ourselves. But when we can catch our breath, even just a little? We must widen our gaze. Look out the window.
I’m sitting on Noah’s ark.
He let me board early.
After the animals come on safely,
I bring my loved ones
into the rooms of my heart
as the sky pours out her tears.
Evan is sitting shiva.
Rachael tells me her body is in Kishinev.
Daniel is feeling alone in this storm.
Jodie is searching for words, she finds songs to briefly calm her soul.
Abbey’s great aunt, her cousins are held hostage.
We ordered our sackcloth on Amazon,
But they’ve run out.
From the River to the Sea, a cousin posts on Instagram.
A middle school friend
who once brought me to Easter services
with liturgy blaming Jews for Jesus’ death
messages me about collective punishment.
Neil from high school emails me after 20 years to tell me he is thinking of me.
Joe from our childhood West Sherwood Terrace texts me about his grief.
My beloved, born of the land,
first needs quiet, to process, to worry.
His cousins are called up.
They are my cousins, too, now.
We love you, I message them repeatedly,
as we cancel our El Al flights for November.
What about the kids in war, my nieces ask?
They hide, the eldest says.
They hide behind their mommies, the youngest agrees.
I call my dad crying.
I cry dancing the horah at Sasha’s wedding.
I cry for Abbey’s Carmela and Noya.
I cry because I do not understand war
and I do not understand hurting children.
I cannot sleep on this ark.
I should not sleep on this ark.
As if the last night of summer camp,
I am sitting shmira*
The WiFi is too strong and I am up late each night.
Refresh, refresh, refresh.
I am keeping watch to make sure everyone is safe.
I am sitting shmira -
Guarding the memories of the dead
until they are returned
to their families embrace.
You can’t sit shmira for all of them alone,
my sister tells me.
You have to share the burden.
So, please come on board this ark with me,
There is only one skylight
And it feels so dark.
*shmira is from Lishmor and can mean night watch/guard duty/safekeeping or the rituals of accompanying the dead before burial
In what ways are we on an ark much like Noah was? Where can we look out, toward a brighter future?