Philo, in his Midrash, dives headfirst into this question when talking about Noah and the flood. It's a fascinating exploration of time, virtue, and what it truly means to be "first."
Philo wrestles with the idea that "first" can refer to both the first month and the first man, Noah. Both interpretations, he argues, have valid points. If we're talking about when the waters receded, we're naturally thinking about the first month. But, Philo points out, the Torah also talks about the seventh month – specifically the second equinox – as being both the first and the seventh. Confusing, right? But stick with me. He suggests that it's "first" in terms of nature and virtue, but seventh in terms of the calendar. We find this concept echoed elsewhere; for instance, Exodus 12:2 states, "This month shall be unto you the beginning of months: it shall be the first month of the year to you."
But what if "first" refers to Noah himself? Well, Philo argues, then it takes on an even deeper meaning. Noah, the righteous man, was truly the first. Like a captain of a ship or a prince of a state, Noah was first not just in virtue, but in order. He was the beginning of the second sowing of humanity. Ginzberg, in Legends of the Jews, elaborates on Noah's unique position after the flood, highlighting his role as the sole righteous individual tasked with repopulating the world.
Think about this: the flood happened during the lifetime of Adam, the original first man. When the waters receded, things returned to a semblance of their former state. Noah, along with his family, were alone on the earth until the regeneration of humankind began. Philo sees significance in this. Noah yearned for a life of virtue, while the rest of the world rushed towards death through wickedness.
And then there's the timing. The evil ceased in the six hundred and first year of Noah's life. Philo sees significance in the numbers. Destruction, he says, is associated with the number six, while safety is restored with unity – with one. Unity, he believes, is generative and life-giving. He even connects this to the waning of the sea at the new moon! The units are preferred, he says, when God saves the earth.
Now, Philo points out that "Noah" in Hebrew translates to "the just one," while the Greeks call him Dikaios, also meaning "just." But, even the just are not exempt from the laws of the body. Noah, despite his righteousness, was still mortal. This is why the number six (from the six hundredth year) is connected to unity, symbolizing corporeality and inequality. That is why we read "in the six hundred and first year."
But how was Noah righteous? Philo says he was just in his generation, not just in comparison to the corruption around him. He was chosen by God, deemed worthy of life, and became both the end and the beginning of an age. The end of the corruptible and the beginning of what was to follow.
Philo concludes with a beautiful image: praising the man who, with his whole being, looked up in friendship with God.
So, what does it all mean? Perhaps "first" isn't just about chronology. Maybe it's about being a pioneer of virtue, a beacon of hope in a world drowning in wickedness. And maybe, just maybe, it's about that enduring friendship with the Divine that allows us to weather any storm.