The text grapples with a seeming contradiction. God, knowing humanity’s propensity for wickedness from the start, initially intended to destroy the world with a flood. Yet, afterward, God promises not to destroy all flesh again, despite the continued presence of evil. Doesn't that sound like a change of heart? A change of mind? Isn't that...human?
The Midrash of Philo offers a compelling answer, suggesting that such expressions are connected more "with learning and the utility of instruction rather than with the nature of truth." In other words, these apparent shifts aren't about God changing, but about how God communicates with us, using language we can understand.
The text distinguishes between two ways the Torah speaks of God: "Not as a man" and "As a man." The first, "Not as a man," points to the actual truth of God's being – utterly beyond human comprehension. God isn't like us, or like anything we can perceive – not the sun, not the heavens, not even blessedness itself. God transcends all comparison.
But then there’s the second expression: "As a man." This is where instruction comes in. God speaks "As a man" so that we, "beings born of the earth," can grasp the divine message. It's a divine act of translation, if you will. It's God meeting us where we are.
Why? To prevent us from endlessly incurring God’s wrath. The text argues that repeated punishment for the same offense is "the conduct of a savage and ferocious disposition." Instead, God inflicts deserved retribution, but tempers justice with mercy, remembering the original design for humanity.
The text beautifully explains that God "observed in his mind," highlighting the constancy of the divine disposition. Our wills are inconsistent, but God’s mind rejoices in steadfastness. We think with "thoughts" that are like the "passage of the mind," but God’s intellect penetrates all things perfectly.
So, when God says, "I will not proceed any more to curse the earth," it's not about a change of heart, but about a commitment to not adding to the already complete evils. It's not about eradicating wickedness entirely – which would be like "washing a brick" – but about alleviating misery. Wickedness, deeply ingrained from youth, can't be simply washed away.
God's promise, "I will not any more smite all flesh," doesn't mean wickedness goes unpunished. Instead, it signifies a commitment to not destroying all of humanity, while still holding individuals accountable for their actions. God, in essence, balances justice with a care for the human race, rooted in the original divine plan.
This idea of God communicating in ways we can understand is powerful. It reminds us that even the most sacred texts require interpretation, a careful consideration of the message behind the words. It invites us to look beyond the surface and consider the deeper truths about God's relationship with humanity. What does it mean to you that God would speak to us in our own language? How does that impact your understanding of the divine?