We get glimpses, tantalizing hints, and sometimes outright fantastical stories about that long-ago world. And one of the most striking comes from Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating early medieval text that expands on the biblical narrative.

According to Rabbi Levi, in those days, people were… different. Astonishingly fertile, for one thing. "They bare their sons," he says, "and increased and multiplied like a great reptile, six children at each birth!" Can you imagine? Six babies at once, all the time! And it gets even stranger. "In that very hour they stood on their feet, and spoke the holy language, and danced before them like sheep."

Now, that’s a lot to take in. Rabbi Levi is referencing the verse, "They cast their young like sheep, and their children danced" (Job 21:11), painting a picture of almost instantaneous maturity and… well, a lack of reverence, perhaps? A kind of wild, untamed joy, disconnected from a sense of something higher?

But here’s where the story takes a darker turn. Noah, seeing the wickedness around him, tries to warn the people. "Turn from your ways and evil deeds," he pleads, "so that He bring not upon you the waters of the Flood, and destroy all the seed of the children of men."

Their response? Utter defiance. They refuse to repent. But even more shockingly, they decide to limit their procreation, but not through righteous means. "Behold, we will restrain ourselves from multiplying and increasing, so as not to produce the offspring of the children of men." But how? "When they came to their wives they spilled the issue of their seed upon the earth so as not to produce offspring."

This is a powerful and disturbing image. The text then quotes Genesis 6:12, "And God saw the earth, and behold it was spilled." The word in Hebrew is vatishahet (ותִּשָּׁחֵת), often translated as "corrupt," but here carrying the literal sense of wasted seed. It's a deliberate act of rebellion, a perversion of the natural order.

Their arrogance doesn't end there. They mock the impending Flood. "If He bring from heaven the waters of the Flood upon us, behold, we are of high stature, and the waters will not reach up to our necks; and if He bring the waters of the depths against us, behold, the soles of our feet can close up all the depths." Imagine the hubris! They actually believe they can plug up the entire abyss with their feet!

So, what do they do? "They put forth the soles of their feet, and closed up all the depths."

But of course, you can't outsmart the Divine. "What did the Holy One, blessed be He, do? He heated the waters of the deep, and they arose and burnt their flesh, and peeled off their skin from them." The punishment fits the crime, doesn’t it? Their arrogant attempt to control the waters results in their own fiery demise.

The text then quotes Job 6:17, "What time they wax warm, they vanish; when it is hot, they are consumed out of their place." But it offers a clever midrashic (interpretive) reading: "Do not read thus ('When it is hot,' bachumo בְּחֻמּוֹ), but (read) 'in his hot waters' (bachamimayv בְּחֲמֵימָיו)." A subtle shift in pronunciation, and suddenly the verse speaks directly to their fiery end in the heated waters of the Flood.

It’s a chilling story, isn't it? A story of incredible potential twisted into utter depravity. It makes you wonder: What happens when we, as humans, become so consumed with our own power and our own desires that we lose sight of the sacredness of life itself? What "waters" will ultimately rise up to meet us?