The story of Noah, after the flood, grapples with this very question.

We all know the story: the world drowned in sin, Noah builds an ark, saves his family and the animals. But what happens after the flood recedes? What kind of world do they emerge into? The Torah tells us, “God spoke to Noah, and to his sons with him, saying: ‘And I hereby establish My covenant with you, and with your descendants after you’” (Genesis 9:8-9).

Seems straightforward, right? God's making a promise, a b’rit, a covenant. But like any good story, there's more beneath the surface. The Rabbis of the Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, pick up on something interesting in that verse. Why does it say God spoke to Noah and his sons? And why does God emphasize "I hereby establish"?

Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Nechemya, two voices from our tradition, offer differing perspectives. Rabbi Yehuda argues that Noah was actually degraded in some way. Why? Because he didn’t immediately engage in procreation after leaving the ark. Remember, God commanded humanity to "be fruitful and multiply." According to Rabbi Yehuda, Noah’s delay was a violation of that command, explaining why God didn't speak to him alone but included his sons.

Ouch. Harsh, right?

But Rabbi Nechemya sees it differently. He suggests Noah exceeded the command. That Noah acted with kedushah, with holiness, by abstaining. Perhaps he felt the weight of the world’s destruction, the trauma of what he had witnessed. Maybe he felt it inappropriate to immediately bring children into a world so recently purged. Because of this, both he and his sons merited to hear God’s direct communication. “God spoke to Noah and to his sons.”

So, which is it? Was Noah being punished or rewarded?

The beauty of rabbinic tradition, as we see so often in texts like the Midrash Rabbah, is that it often holds multiple truths simultaneously. Maybe Noah’s actions were a little of both. Maybe his hesitation reflected a deep respect for life, even if it seemed to contradict a direct command.

The Zohar, that foundational text of Kabbalah, often emphasizes the importance of intention. Perhaps Noah’s intention, his heart, is what mattered most.

What do you think? Was Noah right to wait? Wrong? Or is the truth somewhere in between, a complex tapestry woven from obedience, holiness, and the heavy weight of responsibility? It’s a question worth pondering as we navigate our own lives, trying to discern the right path amidst the noise and the chaos. And as Ginzberg so brilliantly retells these tales in Legends of the Jews, we realize these aren't just stories from long ago, but mirrors reflecting our own struggles, our own choices, and our own search for meaning.