Parshas Noach 5785
The Flood is summoned upon the earth not only by means of rains from above, but from waters below. The Torah describes that “כָּל־מַעְיְנֹת תְּהוֹם רַבָּה, All the subterranean springs overflowed (Bereishis 7:11),” thereby inundating the land above. And contained within that swelling of the springs was an unspoken message for humanity.
Rashi quotes the Midrash that the term “רבה—overflowed” deliberately mimics the same word used in a different context at the end of Parshas Bereishis, describing the wayward character society had begun to demonstrate. There, the pasuk states,
וַיַּרְא ה׳ כִּי רַבָּה רָעַת הָאָדָם בָּאָרֶץ וְכָל־יֵצֶר מַחְשְׁבֹת לִבּוֹ רַק רַע כָּל־הַיּוֹם׃
(בראשית ו:ה)
And Hashem saw that the evil of man had overflowed upon the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was purely evil all day long.
(Bereishis 6:5)
These subtle textual allusions are always curious. What exactly does the Midrash mean to suggest that the two pesukim—taken in tandem—are trying to convey? What is the notion of evil manifested as רבה such that Hashem chose to punish society through a רבה of his own? Why does the overflowing of evil demand purging through the overflowing of water?
Perhaps the answer can be found in analyzing the end of the above pasuk detailing society’s moral tailspin. When Noach emerges safely from the ark at the end of the parsha, he offers sacrifices to Hashem from the kosher animals that had been saved. Hashem accepts the offering and determines to never again destroy the earth, recognizing, after all, that “כִּי יֵצֶר לֵב הָאָדָם רַע מִנְּעֻרָיו—The inclination of man’s heart is evil from his youth.” Man faces an uphill battle towards good, and, in the future, Hashem’s consideration of that reality will stay His hand before bringing utter destruction upon the earth as punishment for man’s moral failure.
Still, Hashem doesn’t appear to regret bringing the Flood. Further, there is an enormous difference between the description of the society destroyed by the flood and the description later offered of the fundamental nature of man. The latter notes that man is inclined towards evil. But the Generation of the Flood is described as people whose “every inclination…was purely evil all day long.”
What happened to man? How did he go from being someone who possessed a desire for evil into someone completely corrupted by those desires? How did he becomes someone who had nothing but evil thoughts, plans, and leanings all day long, without letup? How did evil come to define him?
The answer is רבה—it overflowed. The flood came about through the overflowing of the waters of the deep to serve as a guide to what went wrong in the lives of the members of that generation. The waters were always there, always existed, but they were suppressed, kept in check. What happens when you stop holding the waters at bay? When you decide to just let them be? They inundate the world and come to define the earth’s very terrain.
This is the choice we have to make with inclination towards evil that lurks within each of us. That it exists is nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to deny. It is intended to be there, placed within us by an omniscient Creator.
But it is meant to be kept in check. We are meant to struggle, to push back, to keep the drive towards evil at bay, much the way Hashem suppressed the waters of the deep until He decided to flip the switch and let them out.
Why did He flip that switch? Because that’s exactly what people had done. They’d seen their drives and urges and stopped struggling. They confused that inclination with that essence and believed the struggle to be futile. They identified with their anger, jealousy, lust, and other urges and said “This is me. This is who and what I am. I can’t deny myself. I’ll let that beast of its cage.” רבה—it overflowed. From the depths of each person—from a place that undoubtedly existed within him yet needed not define him—the inclination towards evil surged forth until his character was wholly corrupted.
That we will have wants and interests that fall outside of acceptable and decent behavior is to be expected. But those wants and interests don’t need to overflow—to become the whole of our character. They can be kept in check. In this regard, we should value and recognize every small step we take towards that end. When we tell ourselves “no”, push back against an impulse, quiet the inner voice that makes a demand that is not truly in our best interest, we are developing muscles of greater moral discipline and making the statement that we can live with impulses without being defined by them.
When we push back against ourselves—maintaining times we won’t check our phones, refraining from removing our tefilin until we’ve fully finished davening, suppressing mindless fidgeting while bentching—we’re making a statement far more impactful than the individual decision suggests. We are insisting that our impulses don’t define us, that we can keep them in check. That we can keep the floodwaters at bay, keeping them from ultimately overwhelming our character and our lives.