Philo, a Jewish philosopher who lived in Alexandria around the time of Jesus, delved into these questions. He wrote extensively on the Torah, often offering allegorical interpretations alongside the literal readings. And in his writings, he gives us a fascinating breakdown of the flood's timeline and sources.

According to Philo, the deluge wasn't just a simple rainstorm. It was a carefully orchestrated event with two distinct phases. First, for forty days, the "waters of punishment" fell relentlessly. The lowest fountains of the earth burst open, and the "cataracts of heaven" poured down (Gen 7:11). It was a complete and utter inundation, covering everything, from the plains to the mountains.

Then came a second phase, lasting a full 150 days. The waters continued to flow, but at a reduced rate. They weren't adding to the flood's height, but rather sustaining it. Philo says these waters ensured "the duration of the existence of the deluge." Then, after those 150 days, the fountains and cataracts were closed up.

But where did all that water originate? Philo points to a "double reservoir" – one source from the earth and another from the heavens. He saw these as the primary suppliers of the deluge. It makes you think about the sheer scale of the event, doesn't it? The idea of these massive, almost unimaginable, reservoirs being unleashed.

Philo doesn't stop at the literal interpretation, though. He was a master of allegory, finding deeper meanings within the biblical text. He suggests that the flood also represents a "deluge of the mind." This internal flood arises from two sources: our intellect ("counsel, as if from heaven") and our physical desires and senses ("the body and from sense, as if from earth"). Vices fuel passions, and passions fuel vices, creating a destructive cycle.

So, what's the solution? Just as God closed the earthly and heavenly reservoirs, the "divine physician" – God's word – must intervene to prevent future overflows of the mind. This divine intervention stems the tide of our negative inclinations. Philo equates this to a doctor treating a disease by removing its cause. The goal is to eliminate the source of the problem, not just treat the symptoms.

He even draws a parallel to the laws concerning leprosy. When leprosy is contained, the leper's movements are restricted to a specific place. Philo sees this "stationary" state as representing cleanliness, because "that which is moved contrary to nature is unclean." In other words, by controlling our impulses and staying true to our nature, we can achieve a state of inner purity.

Philo’s interpretation invites us to consider the flood not just as a historical event, but as a metaphor for our own internal struggles. Are there "reservoirs" within us that need to be managed? What steps can we take to prevent our own "deluges of the mind"?