5 min read

The Silent Waters Praised God Until People Could Speak

A king moved tenants with no voices into his new palace, and every morning they greeted him with their fingers and a lifted kerchief.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The King Filled His New House With Tenants Who Had No Voices
  2. The Tenants Who Could Speak Seized the Palace
  3. What the Water Had Been Saying All Along
  4. The Plumb Line Stretched Over the Sea
  5. Put the House Back the Way It Was
The Silent Waters Praised God Until People Could Speak Click for full size

The King Filled His New House With Tenants Who Had No Voices

A king finished a palace and moved in people who could not speak.

They greeted him anyway. Every morning they were awake before he was, standing along the corridor where he would pass, and when he came through they asked after his health with their hands. Fingers moving. A kerchief lifted, turned, lowered. Whole sentences of good wishes going by without a sound in them.

The king stopped and watched it, and he thought what any man in his position would think. If these people, who have no voices at all, are up at first light greeting me like this, what would it be like to have tenants with mouths?

He put the silent ones out of the house. He moved talkers in.

The Tenants Who Could Speak Seized the Palace

They got up the next morning and took the building.

This house is not the king's, they said. This house is ours.

He had waited a long time to hear a sentence out of that corridor, and that was the sentence. He gave one order and did not argue it. Put the palace back the way it was.

What the Water Had Been Saying All Along

Before anyone anywhere had a throat, the only praise going up in the world came off the water.

The psalm keeps the sound of it. From the voice of many waters, from the mighty breakers of the sea. And what were they saying down there, all that time, with no one to hear it? The Lord is mighty on high.

They had nothing to say it with. No lungs, no palate, no tongue to shape a syllable. They said it with weight and collision, with an entire ocean throwing itself at a shoreline on a schedule and dragging back and doing it again, and the noise went up as worship because there was nothing else in creation making any. The sea praised Him with nothing but that, and nothing else in the world had been given anything better to praise Him with.

If these, God said, that cannot talk and cannot speak, praise Me like this, then once I make a man, how much more.

The Plumb Line Stretched Over the Sea

On the third day the command went out. Let the waters be gathered to one place, and let the dry land appear.

Rabbi Berekhya, in the name of Rav Beivai, heard a builder's tool inside the word. Yikavu holds the kav, the measuring cord, the same line Zechariah watched being stretched out over Jerusalem. Not gathered, then. Measured. Every drop handed an edge it was not going to cross, the way a builder chalks a wall before he lays a course.

Rabbi Abba bar Kahana, in the name of Rabbi Levi, turned that one degree further and got something colder. Read it yekavu: let the water wait for Me. Let it hold where I have put it and stay ready for what I intend to do with it later.

Nobody told the sea what that was. It sat inside its line, keeping the edge, saying the one thing it knew.

Put the House Back the Way It Was

The generation of Enosh rose and rebelled. The generation of the Flood rose and rebelled. The generation of the Dispersion rose and rebelled, and the palace filled up with people explaining whose house it was.

Put these out, God said, and bring back the ones who lived here before them.

What do they think, He said. That I need lions for this? Regiments of soldiers? I made the world with speech. I can take them out of it with speech. Rabbi Berekhya gave the last turn of the screw. They were made out of soil, he said. And what carries soil away? Water.

Rain fell on the earth forty days and forty nights. The line the cord had drawn on the third day came up over the fields and the roofs and the arguments, and the old tenants moved back into every room, and the sound on the water went on saying the only sentence it had ever known.

CreationMusicMidrash RabbahBereshitWater
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From the tradition

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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Bereshit Rabbah 5:1Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

We begin with the verse: "God said: Let the water under the heavens be gathered to one place, and let the dry land appear, and it was so" (Genesis 1:9). But the Rabbis, masters of noticing the subtle nuances in scripture, saw more than just a simple command. They delved into the word yikavu – "be gathered".

The verse "At Your rebuke they fled; at the sound [of Your thunder they rushed away]" (Psalms 104:7) comes to mind. Rabbi Berekhya, citing Rabbi Abba bar Ami, suggests that this gathering wasn't random. Instead, "Let a set measure be established for the water," like "A plumb line [kav] will be extended over Jerusalem" (Zechariah 1:16) – a precise, divine blueprint.

Rabbi Abba bar Kahana, quoting Rabbi Levi, offers a richer, more evocative image. He says that the Holy One, blessed be He, said: "Let the water eagerly await [yekavu] for Me, for what I am going to do with it in the future."

Here's where it gets really interesting. The Rabbis use a parable to illustrate this. These residents, unable to speak, express their devotion with gestures, with the waving of fingers and kerchiefs. The king thinks, "If only they could speak, how much greater would their praise be!"

So, the king replaces them with people who can speak. But what happens? They seize the palace, declaring it their own, forgetting the king altogether. The king, heartbroken, declares: "Let the palace be restored to its previous state!"

The Zohar tells us that, in the beginning, only the waters praised God. "It is from the sound of many waters, the mighty breakers of the sea" (Psalms 93:4). And what was their song? "The Lord is mighty on High" (Psalms 93:4). God thought, "If these waters, without speech, laud Me, how much more so will humankind when I create them!"

But then came the generations of the Flood, of Enosh, of the Dispersion, and they all rebelled. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, their rebellion was a deep betrayal. The Holy One, blessed be He, lamented: "Let these [mankind] be expelled, and let those who had dwelled here before arise and come back."

And so, as we find in Midrash Rabbah, "The rain was upon the earth forty days and forty nights" (Genesis 7:12). The waters, once eagerly awaiting God's command, were called upon to cleanse the world, to return it to a state of potential, a state of pure, unadulterated praise.

A reminder that praise, gratitude, and connection aren't just words, but actions. And that sometimes, silence can be more profound than the loudest rebellion. What does it mean to truly praise, to truly acknowledge the source of all things? And how easily can we, with our gift of speech, forget the One who granted it?

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Bereshit Rabbah 28:2Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

It's about something much deeper – a relationship, even a conversation, between God and the very elements of the universe.

We find a fascinating take on this in Bereshit Rabbah, an ancient collection of rabbinic interpretations of the book of Genesis. When God says, "Let the water...be gathered [yikavu]" (Genesis 1:9), Rabbi Berekhya, quoting Rav Beivai, suggests this means setting a precise measure for the water, like a plumb line [kav] used in building. Remember that image from (Zechariah 1:16), "A plumb line will be extended over Jerusalem"? It's about order, precision, and divine planning.

Rabbi Abba bar Kahana, drawing on Rabbi Levi, offers a different, equally compelling interpretation. He says yikavu means "let the water eagerly wait [yekavu] for Me," anticipating God's future plans. This isn't just about containment; it’s about the water being ready, poised for a purpose it doesn't yet understand.. the whole ocean waiting.

The Midrash (a method of interpreting biblical texts) then launches into a parable, a story to illuminate the concept. They can’t speak, but they greet him with gestures – waving fingers and kerchiefs. The king thinks, "If they, who are mute, greet me so enthusiastically, imagine how much more those who can speak would praise me!"

So, he brings in speaking residents. But instead of praise, they seize the palace, declaring it their own! The king, disappointed, says, "Let the palace be restored to its previous state."

This is what it was like, according to this Midrash, with the waters. Initially, praise arose from the waters themselves, as it says in (Psalms 93:4), "It is from the sound of many waters…The Lord is mighty on High." The Holy One, blessed be He, thought, "If these waters, without the power of speech, laud me, how much more will humankind when they are created!"

But then came the generations of Enosh, the Flood, and the Dispersion – all instances of rebellion against God. Humanity, instead of praising, claimed ownership, much like the ungrateful residents of the king's palace. The Holy One, blessed be He, then said, "Let these [mankind] be expelled and let these [waters] come back."

The text quotes God saying, "I will obliterate man whom I have created." As if needing any help! The Midrash emphasizes that God doesn't need armies; the world was created with speech, and with speech, it can be unmade. As Rabbi Berekhya points out, humans were created from soil, and what washes away soil? Water.

So, what’s the takeaway here? It’s a potent reminder about the responsibility that comes with speech, with consciousness, with being human. The waters, in their silent anticipation, teach us a lesson about humility and reverence. They remind us that creation isn't ours to seize, but a gift to be cherished and a source of praise. Are we living up to the potential God saw in us, or are we, like those ungrateful residents, seizing the palace for ourselves?

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