It wasn't just a knee-jerk reaction of gratitude. According to Bereshit Rabbah, the ancient midrashic (interpretive) text on Genesis, there was some serious divine calculus at play.
Genesis 8:20 tells us, "Noah built [vayiven] an altar to the Lord." But the text doesn't just say "built." It uses the word vayiven. The rabbis of the Midrash, masters of close reading, seize on this, suggesting that vayiven implies reasoning, contemplation. Noah, the text suggests, contemplated [nitbonen]. He thought hard: "Why did God command me to take seven pairs of the pure animals, as opposed to the usual two of the impure ones, if not to offer them as sacrifices?" A fair question, right?
And where did this offering take place? Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov suggests it was on the great altar in Jerusalem. Yes, even before the Temple, there was a sacred spot, the very place where Adam himself, according to some interpretations of Psalms 69:32, offered sacrifices!
The text continues, "The Lord smelled the pleasing aroma." What exactly was this "pleasing aroma?" This is where things get interesting. We have a debate between Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yosei bar Ḥanina. Rabbi Eliezer believes that Noah's descendants sacrificed peace offerings (shelamim), while Rabbi Yosei insists they only offered burnt offerings (olot).
Now, Rabbi Eliezer throws some serious textual curveballs at Rabbi Yosei. What about Abel offering "the firstborn of his flock and their fats" (Genesis 4:4)? Isn't that a peace offering? And what about Exodus 24:5, where the young men of Israel offer burnt offerings and feast peace offerings? Rabbi Yosei has answers, ingenious ones. He suggests that Abel offered from the fattest of his flock, implying a burnt offering. As for the peace offerings in Exodus, he argues that those were whole burnt offerings, hides intact, not flayed or cut as required later in the Torah.
The debate continues, referencing Jethro, Moses' father-in-law, and his offerings (Exodus 18:12). Did he come before or after the giving of the Torah? Rabbi Huna tells us that Rabbi Yanai and Rabbi Ḥiyya the Great disagreed on this point. Rabbi Ḥanina reconciles them: If Jethro came before the Torah, then Noah's descendants offered peace offerings. If after, then only burnt offerings.
This idea is supported by the verse in Song of Songs 4:16, "Awake, north, and come, south." Rabbi Yosei bar Ḥanina understands this as referring to the burnt offering (slaughtered in the north) being "re-awakened" and the peace offering (slaughtered in the south) being a completely new concept, introduced later. Rabbi Yehoshua, citing Rabbi Levi, points to Leviticus, highlighting the difference in wording regarding burnt offerings versus peace offerings.
But here's the truly mind-blowing part. The Midrash doesn't stop at Noah. When the text says, "The Lord smelled the pleasing aroma," it's not just about Noah's sacrifice. It's about future sacrifices, future acts of devotion. God, the Midrash suggests, smelled the aroma of Abraham emerging from the fiery furnace, the aroma of Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah rising from Nebuchadnezzar's fiery furnace (Daniel 3). It's about the generations who were persecuted for their faith.
Rav Shalom, citing Rabbi Menaḥma bar Ze’ira, uses the analogy of a king building a palace on the seacoast. The king finds a flask of balsam oil, smells it, and builds his palace over it, knowing that the spot is secure. Similarly, God rebuilt the world on the basis of these future "aromas," these future acts of faith and sacrifice.
So, what does all this mean? It's more than just a story about Noah's sacrifice. It's a story about continuity, about the enduring power of devotion, and how even the smallest act of faith can resonate through time and space. It reminds us that our actions, our choices, contribute to the very foundation upon which the world is built. Perhaps the "pleasing aroma" God smells is not just the sacrifice itself, but the unwavering spirit behind it, a spirit that echoes from generation to generation.