It’s a question that pulls us into the heart of Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Genesis.
We begin with the verse: "God said: Let the water under the heavens be gathered to one place, and let the dry land appear, and it was so" (Genesis 1:9). But the Rabbis, masters of noticing the subtle nuances in scripture, saw more than just a simple command. They delved into the word yikavu – "be gathered".
The verse "At Your rebuke they fled; at the sound [of Your thunder they rushed away]" (Psalms 104:7) comes to mind. Rabbi Berekhya, citing Rabbi Abba bar Ami, suggests that this gathering wasn't random. Instead, "Let a set measure be established for the water," like "A plumb line [kav] will be extended over Jerusalem" (Zechariah 1:16) – a precise, divine blueprint.
But Rabbi Abba bar Kahana, quoting Rabbi Levi, offers a richer, more evocative image. He says that the Holy One, blessed be He, said: "Let the water eagerly await [yekavu] for Me, for what I am going to do with it in the future."
Now, here's where it gets really interesting. The Rabbis use a parable to illustrate this. Imagine a king who builds a magnificent palace and populates it with mutes. These residents, unable to speak, express their devotion with gestures, with the waving of fingers and kerchiefs. The king thinks, "If only they could speak, how much greater would their praise be!"
So, the king replaces them with people who can speak. But what happens? They seize the palace, declaring it their own, forgetting the king altogether. The king, heartbroken, declares: "Let the palace be restored to its previous state!"
The Zohar tells us that, in the beginning, only the waters praised God. "It is from the sound of many waters, the mighty breakers of the sea" (Psalms 93:4). And what was their song? "The Lord is mighty on High" (Psalms 93:4). God thought, "If these waters, without speech, laud Me, how much more so will humankind when I create them!"
But then came the generations of the Flood, of Enosh, of the Dispersion, and they all rebelled. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, their rebellion was a deep betrayal. The Holy One, blessed be He, lamented: "Let these [mankind] be expelled, and let those who had dwelled here before arise and come back."
And so, as we find in Midrash Rabbah, "The rain was upon the earth forty days and forty nights" (Genesis 7:12). The waters, once eagerly awaiting God's command, were called upon to cleanse the world, to return it to a state of potential, a state of pure, unadulterated praise.
It's a powerful reminder, isn't it? A reminder that praise, gratitude, and connection aren't just words, but actions. And that sometimes, silence can be more profound than the loudest rebellion. What does it mean to truly praise, to truly acknowledge the source of all things? And how easily can we, with our gift of speech, forget the One who granted it?