It's more than just pretty colors. Jewish tradition sees that rainbow, the bow in the cloud, as a very specific promise. A promise from God.
The Torah tells us that after the great flood, God set His bow – the rainbow – in the sky as a sign, a covenant (Genesis 9:13). But according to legends elaborating on that passage, there’s a deeper meaning. The bow isn't just a pretty reminder. It's a constant proclamation: even if humanity stumbles again, plunges into sin, we won't face another world-destroying flood. That rainbow, in essence, whispers, "You are forgiven. Given another chance."
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we didn't need that reminder sometimes? Some traditions even suggest that in periods of great piety, when people were truly righteous, the rainbow simply wasn't visible. No reminder was needed, because no great sin threatened the world. Think about that for a moment. A world so good, so just, that the sign of potential destruction simply disappears.
Now, after the flood, God made another significant shift in the rules. Remember, from the time of Adam until Noah, humans were vegetarians. But post-flood, God gave Noah and his descendants permission to eat meat. With one crucial caveat: they had to abstain from consuming blood. This is a big deal. It marks a change in the relationship between humans and the animal kingdom.
And it wasn't just about diet. God also established the seven Noachian Laws. These laws, detailed in the Talmud (Sanhedrin 56a), aren't just for the Jewish people. They're binding on all of humanity. They are: Do not deny God; do not blaspheme; do not murder; do not engage in forbidden sexual relations; do not steal; do not eat flesh torn from a living animal; and establish courts of justice. Pretty fundamental stuff, right?
Of these laws, the prohibition against shedding human blood is particularly emphasized. The stakes are incredibly high. As it says in Genesis 9:6, "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed."
But the legends amplify this even further. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, even if human courts fail, even if a murderer somehow escapes earthly justice, punishment will inevitably find them. They will meet an unnatural end, a fate mirroring the violence they inflicted on another. And it doesn't stop there. Even animals that kill humans are held accountable. Their lives, too, are forfeit. As we see in the Torah, God requires justice, one way or another.
These legends, these expansions on the biblical text, aren't just ancient stories. They speak to enduring themes: forgiveness, responsibility, and the inherent sanctity of human life. They remind us that even after the worst imaginable catastrophe, there's always the promise of a new beginning, symbolized by that simple, powerful arc in the sky. The question is: what are we doing to live up to that promise?