Let’s talk about the Flood. We all know the basic story: Noah, the Ark, the animals two-by-two. But what about the people who didn't make it? What about the sinners left behind?
According to Legends of the Jews, retold by Louis Ginzberg, these weren't just ordinary folks who missed the boat, so to speak. They actively tried to storm the Ark. Can you imagine the scene? A desperate, panicked mob, clawing at the sides of this giant vessel.
But here's where it gets really interesting. The Ark wasn't just floating there, defenseless. Ginzberg tells us that wild beasts guarded the entrance. And when the sinners tried to force their way in, these creatures attacked, killing many and driving the rest back into the path of the oncoming deluge.
Now, you might think drowning would be the end of it. But no, that's not quite the whole story. These weren't your average-sized people. We're talking giants. Ginzberg explains that they were beings of incredible stature and strength. They scoffed at Noah’s warnings, boasting that the waters wouldn't even reach their necks if they fell from above, and if they came from below, their huge feet could simply dam up the springs.
Arrogant, right?
So, what did God do? He didn’t just send rain. As Ginzberg describes, God commanded that each drop of water pass through Gehenna, often translated as hell or purgatory, before it fell to earth. Imagine that! Each drop, superheated, searing. The rain wasn't just water; it was liquid fire.
The effect? The hot rain scalded the skin of the sinners.
And there’s a poetic justice here, a fitting punishment. As Ginzberg points out, their sin was one of lust, of unrestrained sensual desire. They were consumed by heat, by passion. So, they were punished by heat. "As their sensual desires had made them hot, and inflamed them to immoral excesses, so they were chastised by means of heated water." A classic example of measure for measure, or middah k'neged middah, a principle we see throughout Jewish tradition.
It’s a brutal image, isn't it? But it's also a powerful one. It speaks to the consequences of unchecked desire, of arrogance in the face of divine warning. It makes you think, doesn’t it, about the fires we stoke within ourselves, and the potential for those fires to consume us. What "waters of Gehenna" might we be inviting into our own lives?