This week we read the famous story of Noah and his ark. With my husband’s name being Noah, we have many ark-themed items around the house, and a smile always comes to my face when we reach this time in Torah. This story is often portrayed as a sweet children’s tale, with an array of adorable animals, and a bearded Noah guiding his family into the ark. This year, in light of the horrific terror attacks on Israel on October 7, and the devastating war that continues to unfold, I feel we can all relate to Noah and to Noah’s family on a much deeper level.
We imagine a dimly lit ark, crowded with animals, and one scared family. Perhaps the family sits on the ground, tearful, shaking with fear, as so many did in their safe rooms on October 7. They might feel devastated, confused, exhausted, and angry, as I imagine many of us do now. I wonder if Noah’s family, in addition to the fear and sadness, felt guilt. Maybe they asked themselves, “Why did I get to live when others did not? Why have I been protected?” All of these emotions and questions swirl about my own head as I keep in close contact with my loved ones who live in the place I consider my homeland.
Right now, we are all Noah and his family- waiting, with bated breath. When will this flood end? Will we make it back to dry land? What is the world going to look like when this is all over?
And then, Genesis 8:6:
וַיְהִ֕י מִקֵּ֖ץ אַרְבָּעִ֣ים י֑וֹם וַיִּפְתַּ֣ח נֹ֔חַ אֶת־חַלּ֥וֹן הַתֵּבָ֖ה אֲשֶׁ֥ר עָשָֽׂה׃
At the end of forty days, Noah opened the window of the ark that he had made.
After forty days, the opening of a window. A crack of light. A breath of fresh air. A peak at the sun. A sigh of relief.
The Medieval commentator, Rashi, writes about this verse, specifying that Noah had purposely built this window for the sake of letting in light. It wasn’t a door, through which one could exit and enter- it was simply a means for light.
Through the fear and chaos, we have gathered, prayed, sang, and stood by each other. This has been our window. We have shown resilience and love. We have let ourselves be vulnerable in our pain. We have, in different moments, been strengthened enough to crack that window open just a bit more and let the light in for ourselves, and for others.
I know this community will continue to support each other and to be a light. We don’t know what comes after the flood, but we do know that as long as we have each other, we have a light. Let us seek light, create light, and be a light.
Shabbat Shalom and Am Yisrael Chai.
Cantor Sydney Michaeli
