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Why Noah Did Not Receive Shabbat and Israel Did

God gave humanity seven Noahide laws. Shabbat was not among them. The rabbis asked why, and the answer changed what Shabbat means for Israel.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Laws That Were Not Given at Sinai
  2. The Question the Rabbis Could Not Leave Alone
  3. Five Things That Brought Salvation
  4. Why Noah's Descendants Did Not Receive It
  5. What Moses Understood That the Nations Did Not

The Laws That Were Not Given at Sinai

After the flood, God made a covenant with Noah that was different from every covenant that followed. It was made not with one people but with every living creature on earth. Its terms were broader than any tribal agreement. Seven obligations: against idolatry, blasphemy, murder, theft, sexual immorality, eating a limb torn from a living animal, and the obligation to establish courts of justice. Seven laws for all of humanity, derived from the traditions of Noah's descendants.

Read the list carefully. Something is missing.

Shabbat. The seventh day. The crown of creation, the day God himself rested, the sign that more than any other mark distinguished Israel in the ancient world. Noah received seven laws, and the seventh day was not among them.

The Question the Rabbis Could Not Leave Alone

The midrashic discussion preserved in Midrash Tehillim, the homiletical commentary on Psalms compiled in Palestine between the 4th and 9th centuries CE, approached this absence from an unexpected direction. It began with a verse about Shabbat in the context of Moses's campaign against Sihon of the Amorites, using the military passage as a springboard for a practical legal question: what happens to a person walking home on Friday afternoon when darkness, and therefore Shabbat, begins to fall? What do they do with the money they are carrying?

The answer the rabbis gave was: entrust it to a non-Jew. Not because non-Jews are inherently more trustworthy, but because Shabbat is Israel's obligation and not theirs. A non-Jewish person walking on Friday night is not violating anything by carrying money. The same action, by the same physical person, has a different moral and legal character depending on whose covenant they belong to.

This was the mechanism that made the absence of Shabbat from the Noahide laws visible in daily life. Shabbat was Israel's specific inheritance.

Five Things That Brought Salvation

Rabbi Elazar, cited in Midrash Tehillim drawing from Psalm 106:44, laid out the structure of how rescue works. Five elements bring about Israel's salvation: distress, crying out to God, genuine return to God's ways, God hearing the cry, and God acting on what He heard. And he saw that they were in distress when He heard their cry.

The mechanism was not magic and not automatic. Distress by itself accomplished nothing. Crying out by itself, without the internal turn that accompanied it, accomplished nothing. The verse required all five elements, and Rabbi Elazar traced each one through the text. The sequence mattered: the distress opens the person, the opening produces the cry, the cry is heard when it comes from a genuine return, the hearing produces action.

Shabbat, in this context, was the weekly practice of the posture that the five elements described in crisis. Once a week, Israel stopped. The stopping was not merely rest. It was an acknowledgment that the week's work, with all its urgency, was not the ultimate reality. The people who had Shabbat had a weekly reminder that they were not the owners of the world they were working in.

Why Noah's Descendants Did Not Receive It

The tradition's explanation for why Shabbat was withheld from the Noahide covenant had nothing to do with Noah's inadequacy. It had to do with the nature of Shabbat itself. The day was a sign between God and Israel specifically, a covenantal marker that distinguished the relationship. Signs are not given to everyone. A wedding ring is not distributed to the entire city. The sign that Israel and God shared was precisely that Israel and God shared it and others did not.

This created the legal structure that made entrusting money to a non-Jew on Friday afternoon permissible. The non-Jew was not in a lesser category. They were in a different relationship. The seven Noahide laws were complete for what they were: a moral and legal framework for all of humanity. Shabbat was something else, a specific intimacy between this people and their God that the universal covenant was not designed to contain.

What Moses Understood That the Nations Did Not

The midrash's placement of this discussion in the context of Moses's campaign against Sihon was not random. Moses stood at the edge of the nations, the land of the Amorites, preparing to take what God had declared belonged to Israel. The nations around him operated under the Noahide covenant. They had courts of justice and prohibitions against murder and theft. They did not have Shabbat. And Moses, pressing into their territory on divine authority, was the man who had received Shabbat directly, face to face with the God who rested on the seventh day.

The contrast carried the full weight of the distinction. What distinguished Israel from every other people in the ancient world was not primarily military capacity or territorial claim. It was this weekly practice of stopping, of acknowledging limitation, of holding one day out of seven as belonging entirely to God. The nations Moses was displacing had never had that. They had everything the Noahide covenant required. The one thing they did not have was the covenant sign of Sinai, and without it, whatever they had built in the land was, by the midrash's logic, provisional.

NoahMosesShabbatCovenantNoahide Laws
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From the tradition

Sources

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Devarim Rabbah 1:21Devarim Rabbah

The verse that kicks it all off is from (Deuteronomy 2:31): “The Lord said to me: See, I have begun delivering before you Siḥon and his land; begin taking possession of his land.” A seemingly straightforward instruction about conquering territory. But as is often the case in Jewish tradition, this is just the jumping-off point.

The rabbis of the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), in their brilliant and often unexpected way, use this verse as a springboard to discuss a practical question: What happens if a person is walking home on Friday afternoon and darkness, and therefore Shabbat (the Sabbath), begins to fall? What do they do with the money or valuables they're carrying?

The Sages teach that in such a situation, you can entrust your purse to a non-Jew. Why? Because, as Rabbi Levi explains, the descendants of Noah were only commanded regarding seven laws, the Sheva Mitzvot (commandments) B’nei Noach, and Shabbat observance isn't one of them. It's a pragmatic solution based on differing obligations.

Then, Rabbi Yosei bar Ḥanina throws a curveball. He states that a non-Jew who observes Shabbat before converting to Judaism is actually liable to be put to death! This sounds harsh, doesn't it? What's going on here?

Rabbi Hiyya bar Abba, quoting Rabbi Yoḥanan, offers a powerful analogy. Imagine a king and a noblewoman engaged in intimate conversation. If someone barges in uninvited, wouldn't they be punished? Shabbat, he explains, is a sacred covenant, a conversation, “Between Me and the children of Israel,” as it says in (Exodus 31:17). A non-Jew who hasn't entered into this covenant through conversion is, in a sense, intruding on something sacred. They are inserting themselves into a relationship that isn't theirs to begin with.

But wait, there’s more! The Rabbis then imagine Moses pleading before God. "Master of the Universe," Moses asks, "if non-Jews observe Shabbat, will You be pleased?" And God's response is striking. Even if they were to fulfill all the mitzvot, all the commandments in the Torah, God would still “topple them before you.” Where do we see this idea? Again, back to our original verse: “See, I have begun delivering before you.” God is already starting the process of giving Israel victory, regardless of what others might do.

What does this all mean? Is it a rejection of non-Jews? Absolutely not. Instead, it speaks to the unique relationship between God and the Jewish people, a relationship defined by covenant and commitment. It emphasizes the importance of observing the commandments within the framework of that covenant. It is a reminder that actions only have the intended effect when performed by those who are commanded.

So, the next time you find yourself rushing to beat the clock before Shabbat, remember this passage. Remember the balance between practical considerations and the deeper meaning of the day. Remember the unique and precious relationship that Shabbat represents.

Full source
Midrash Tehillim 106:9Midrash Tehillim

A collection of rabbinic teachings on the Book of Psalms, there are five key elements that can bring about Israel's – and perhaps our own – salvation. Rabbi Elazar lays it out for us, drawing from (Psalm 106:44), "And He saw that they were in distress when He heard their cry."

First, there's distress itself. It might sound counterintuitive, but Rabbi Elazar sees distress as a catalyst. "And He saw that they were in distress," the verse reminds us. It's when we hit rock bottom, when we're truly vulnerable, that readers often open ourselves up to something greater. That feeling of being broken can actually be the first step towards being rebuilt.

Then comes prayer. "When He heard their cry." That cry, that raw, unfiltered plea from the heart – that's what connects us. It's not about fancy words or perfect rituals; it's about genuine connection. It’s the unvarnished truth of our needs reaching out to the Divine.

What about those who came before us? The merit of the fathers, zechut avot, plays a vital role. "And He remembered His covenant with them." Our ancestors, their struggles, their faith – it all echoes down through the generations, a legacy of strength and resilience. We stand on their shoulders, benefiting from their devotion.

Next, we have repentance, teshuvah (repentance). The text references, "He was appeased by my great kindness." This isn't just about saying sorry. It's about turning away from old patterns, making a conscious effort to change. It’s about recognizing that we have the power to shape our own destinies and choosing to do better.

Finally, there's "the end," which Rabbi Elazar interprets as the Messianic era. "Save us, O Lord our God, and gather us from among the nations," (Psalms 106:47). It's a vision of a future where everything is set right, a world of peace and harmony. This hope for the future, this belief in a better tomorrow, fuels our perseverance today.

Even Moses, that towering figure of Jewish history, seemed to encapsulate these five elements in a single verse. As (Deuteronomy 4:30) states, "When you are in distress and all these things have come upon you.." It's a reminder that these themes are interwoven, interconnected, and always relevant.

And what of that simple word, "Amen"? Rabbi Elazar, quoting Rabbi Yose ben Zimra, reveals its profound significance: "'Amen' is an oath, 'Amen' is acceptance," alluding to (Psalm 41:14). It's more than just a closing remark. It's a declaration, a commitment, a collective affirmation of faith and hope. It's like saying, "Yes, I believe. Yes, I accept. Yes, I'm in."

So, the next time you find yourself in a difficult place, remember these five pathways. Remember that even in the depths of despair, there is always hope for redemption. Remember the power of prayer, the legacy of our ancestors, the possibility of change, and the promise of a brighter future. And when you say "Amen," say it with conviction, knowing that you're joining a chorus that has echoed through the ages.

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