The rabbis of old grappled with this very question. How high did the water actually get? The Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, dives into this verse with a fascinating debate.
Rabbi Yehuda, in the Bereshit Rabbah, suggests a truly mind-boggling scenario: fifteen cubits covered the mountains, and fifteen cubits filled the valleys. In other words, the water miraculously conformed to the landscape! Imagine, the water level precisely mirroring every peak and valley as it rose.
But Rabbi Nehemya offers a different perspective. He argues that while the water reached fifteen cubits above the mountains, the depth in the valleys was... well, indeterminate. The water was level, he says, reaching fifteen cubits above the mountains, but filling the valleys as needed to achieve that level. Which version do you find more astonishing?
The text goes on to describe the horrific consequences: "All flesh that crawls upon the earth, of the birds, and of the animals, and of the beasts, and of all the swarming creatures that swarm upon the earth, and all mankind, perished" (Genesis 7:21). A total wipeout.
And the verse that follows emphasizes: "All in whose nostrils was the breath of the spirit of life, from all that was on the dry land, died" (Genesis 7:22).
Rabbi Shmuel, son-in-law of Rabbi Ḥanina, a colleague of the Rabbis, makes a beautiful observation about the words used to describe the breath of life. Here, it's called neshama ruaḥ (breath of spirit), but elsewhere, in Genesis 2:7, when God breathes life into Adam, it's called nishmat ḥayim, becoming a nefesh ḥayah (living soul). So, what's the connection?
Rabbi Shmuel points out that the Torah uses the term ḥayim (life) in both verses, creating a verbal analogy. The implication? All these terms – neshama, ruaḥ, and nefesh – refer to a single soul. We don't have multiple souls, just different facets of the same divine spark.
But what about the creatures of the sea? The Torah says, "From all that was on the dry land, died." Does that exclude the fish? Some say they were included in the decree, but miraculously escaped to the Great Sea, the Atlantic Ocean, finding refuge in its depths.
Finally, we get to Noah. "He obliterated all existence…only [akh] Noah remained" (Genesis 7:23). Rabbi Huna, in the name of Rabbi Yosei, points out the significance of the word akh, "only." It's an exclusionary term. Even though Noah "remained," he wasn't untouched by the trauma. The Bereshit Rabbah tells us that he was groaning and spitting blood due to the cold! Akh indicates that Noah survived, but he was diminished, weakened by the ordeal.
So, the next time you read the story of Noah's flood, remember these details. Remember the debate about the water level, the reflection on the nature of the soul, and the poignant reminder that even survival can come at a cost. These layers of interpretation, passed down through generations, enrich the story and invite us to contemplate its profound meaning.