Our tradition is rich with layers of meaning, isn't it? And sometimes, the smallest detail holds a hidden universe. Take the timing of the great flood. It wasn't just any time. The Torah is very specific, telling us the deluge began "in the six hundredth year of Noah’s life, in the second month, on the seventeenth day of the month" (Genesis 7:11). But the Midrash, that incredible tapestry of interpretation and commentary, dives even deeper.
The Midrash of Philo, a collection of interpretations attributed to the Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria, offers a fascinating perspective. It suggests that the flood actually began during the vernal equinox – a time of rebirth and renewal. Why this specific time?
Well, Philo argues that the sacred historian—meaning the author of Genesis—was meticulously accurate in fixing the day and month when the deluge began, pointing us to the twenty-seventh day of the seventh month, which he connects to the vernal equinox. This is the time when life bursts forth, when seeds sprout and plants grow. It's a period of abundance and fertility.
So, why unleash destruction at such a promising time? According to Philo, it's precisely because of this abundance that the punishment is so severe. Imagine: nature is at its peak, offering its bounty, and humanity is simultaneously corrupting these gifts. It's a stark contrast, a profound betrayal of the divine purpose. Philo puts it powerfully, saying that God is essentially telling humanity, "behold...all nature contains its own productions within itself...but you, like mortals, corrupt its mercies."
Now, consider the alternative. What if the flood had occurred during the autumnal equinox, after the harvest, when the fields are bare? Philo suggests it wouldn't have been seen as such a harsh punishment. It might even have been viewed as beneficial, a cleansing of the land.
The timing is also linked to the creation of Adam. Just as Adam, the first human, was created during the vernal equinox, so too does the "new beginning" after the flood, with Noah, coincide with this time of renewal. Noah, in a way, becomes a second Adam, a fresh start for humanity. As Philo says, "the first beginning of the generation of our race, after the destruction caused by the deluge, commenced with Noah, men being again sown and procreated, therefore he also is recognised as resembling the first man born of the earth."
And what about the number 600, Noah's age when the flood began? Philo connects this to the number six, the number associated with creation itself. He sees it as a divine rebuke: God created the world through the number six, yet humanity's wickedness was so extreme that He had to destroy it, essentially undoing His creation. Philo states that "the world was created under the number six, therefore, by this same number does he reprove the wicked."
So, the next time you read the story of Noah's flood, remember that it's not just a tale of destruction. It's a story about timing, about the contrast between divine gifts and human corruption, and about the possibility of renewal, even after utter devastation. The Midrash of Philo invites us to contemplate the deeper meanings woven into the narrative, revealing layers of wisdom that speak to us even today. What does it mean to corrupt the divine gifts in our own time?