Feeling the Flood
As the curtains close on Parashat Bereshit, we find God steeped in sadness.
讜址讬旨执谞旨指郑讞侄诐 讛’ 讻旨执纸讬-注指砖讉指芝讛 讗侄转-讛纸指讗指讚指謻诐 讘旨指讗指謶专侄抓 讜址讬旨执转职注址爪旨值謻讘 讗侄诇-诇执讘旨纸讜:
鈥淎nd Adonai regretted that God had made humanity on earth and God鈥檚 heart was grieved.鈥� (Gen. 6:6)
God is heartbroken. The people whom God formed with such care, the people into whom God exhaled God鈥檚 own divine spark, the people God loved鈥攈ad chosen a path of corruption and crime. God sees this corruption, is filled with regret over having ever created humans in the first place, and is overcome by grief.
The idea of a grieving God is complicated. To help us better grasp God鈥檚 emotional experience, Rashi points us to an example of human grief that employs the same root word.
讜址转旨职讛执吱讬 讛址转旨职砖讈只注指譁讛 讘旨址讬旨芝讜止诐 讛址讛譀讜旨讗 诇职讗值謻讘侄诇 诇职讻指诇志讛指注指謶诐 讻旨执纸讬-砖讈指诪址郑注 讛指注指謼诐 讘旨址讬旨证讜止诐 讛址讛讜旨讗謾 诇值讗诪止謹专 谞侄注直爪址芝讘 讛址诪旨侄謻诇侄讱职 注址诇-旨职谞纸讜止變
鈥淭hat day was turned into mourning for all the people, because on that day the people heard that the king was grieving over his son.鈥� (2 Sam. 19:3)
Rashi links God鈥檚 grief over the shameful state of the world to King David鈥檚 grief when he learns of the death of his rebellious child, Absalom, at the hands of David鈥檚 own troops. In the aftermath of their enemy鈥檚 defeat, the victory of the royal army is turned into mourning when the people hear David grieving over his fallen political rival, his slain beloved son.
As we hold up these two texts, our metaphors for God as Parent and God as King (familiar from our recent High Holiday recitations of Avinu Malkenu) mingle in David, a flesh-and-blood parent, a flesh-and-blood king, who cannot reconcile his duty to protect his people and his duty to protect his child. Rashi鈥檚 comparison between the grief of our quintessential human king and the grief of our Divine King helps us see God as a distraught parent, longing for a relationship with God鈥檚 children and fearing that too much damage has been done, too much distance has come between God and the people to ever find a way back into relationship.
This linguistic link of grief may provide greater context for God鈥檚 heartbreak, but it doesn鈥檛 make our story any easier. The scale of violence required to annihilate everything is unfathomable. Acknowledging that God is both Parent to all and Destroyer of all is what makes Parashat Noah so painful. This pain is hard to live with, so we try to sanitize our text. Today when we read the story of Noah, we dehumanize the other humans of Noah鈥檚 generation; we blame Noah for not protesting. We morph these words into a children鈥檚 story; we decorate nurseries with rainbows and animals in pairs of two. We do everything we can to avoid the horror. And yet if we can resist our urge to pretty-up a devastating narrative, we can come a little bit closer to knowing God鈥檚 grief through our own heartbreak.
When the ark is built and the animals accounted for, God seals up Noah and his family. Then God recedes from the story. While the floodgates of the sky break open, while the springs of the earth burst forth, while the rains last for forty days, while the ark floats for a full year with no sign of life; God is nowhere to be found. The Torah does not explain God鈥檚 absence during the year that the whole world drowned, but our text鈥檚 attention to God鈥檚 grief and regret offers a possible insight: God鈥檚 sadness was so great that God had to step away as the earth was consumed鈥攏ot by rage or Divine retribution鈥� but by God鈥檚 own intolerable grief.
This intolerable grief and Divine absence is not how our story ends. From the depths of water and the depths of despair, from the near annihilation of everything, God comes back to us. By coming back, God resolves to never end the world again, and enters into specific covenantal relationship with human beings. (Gen. 9:9-17) By coming back, God demonstrates to us that coming back is possible.
If we are able to access God鈥檚 grief through our own heartbreak, we open ourselves up to profound possibilities. When we witness God almost give up on everything, we see the power of persisting when there is no reason to hope. It is easy to permanently disengage from the horrors of the world, but our Torah urges us to resist that temptation. In Parashat Noah, God teaches us, above all, the significance of resilience through relationship. God shows us that it is possible to come back from paralyzing despair. Again and again and again.
The publication and distribution of the JTS Commentary are made possible by a generous grant from Rita Dee (锄鈥漧) and Harold Hassenfeld (锄鈥漧).
