But what about the human side of things? What were Noah and his family actually doing on that boat for all those months?

Well, the Rabbis of the Midrash, those brilliant interpreters of Jewish texts, definitely considered this question. And what they came up with is, shall we say, interesting.

Our little peek into the Ark comes from Bereshit Rabbah 34, a section of the great Midrash that explores the Book of Genesis in meticulous detail. Here, the Rabbis are wrestling with the verse “You and your wife and your sons and your sons’ wives” (Genesis 6:18), specifically as it relates to Noah entering the Ark.

Rabbi Yudan ben Rabbi Simon and Rabbi Yoḥanan, quoting Rabbi Shmuel bar Yitzḥak, make a rather bold claim: Once Noah stepped onto that Ark, marital relations were off the table! Seriously. The verse, "You shall come to the ark: You and your sons—by yourselves; and your wife and your sons' wives—by themselves," is interpreted to mean that men and women were kept strictly separate. Think of it as a really, really long couples retreat... except without the couples part.

Why this sudden celibacy? The Midrash doesn’t explicitly say why, but we can infer. This was a time of utter devastation, a cosmic reset button being pushed. Perhaps engaging in procreation during such a cataclysm felt… inappropriate? Disrespectful? Maybe it was a practical concern – adding to the population on a boat already bursting at the seams wouldn't have been ideal!

But then, when the floodwaters receded and the dove brought back that olive branch, everything changed. The same Rabbis point to another verse, “Go out of the ark: You and your wife, [and your sons and your sons’ wives]," noting the shift. Now, man and wife are together, suggesting that, yes, procreation was back on the table. The world needed repopulating, after all!

Rabbi Aivu then chimes in with a poignant observation, quoting Job 30:3: “They are in want and in famine, they are solitary [galmud]." He connects times of scarcity and catastrophe with the idea of considering one's wife as galmuda, a term used in some places to refer to a menstruating woman. In other words, Rabbi Aivu is suggesting that during times of crisis, we should abstain from marital relations. He's not just talking about a flood, but about any period of severe hardship.

Rabbi Huna adds further weight to this idea, bringing in the story of Joseph in Egypt. “Two sons were born to Joseph” (Genesis 41:50), but significantly, it was “Before the advent of the year of the famine” (Genesis 41:50). Again, the implication is clear: during times of catastrophe, marital relations should be avoided.

So, what are we to make of all this? It's not just about Noah's Ark. It’s about how we conduct ourselves in times of crisis. It's a reminder that even in the most intimate aspects of our lives, we must be mindful of the world around us. And that sometimes, the most responsible and compassionate thing we can do is to refrain, to abstain, to recognize the gravity of the moment and act accordingly. It's a powerful message, isn't it? A message that resonates just as strongly today as it did centuries ago when these Rabbis first pondered the secrets of the Ark.