As the parent of children who seem to have steel-trap memories, I have learned to be very careful about the kind of promises I make. They’ll remember that one time, six months ago when summer was a distant wish, that I promised we’d go tubing, and suddenly they’re asking me when that will happen or how come it didn’t happen and why I don’t keep my promises. Oy. 

On the one hand, I probably made that promise in a spur-of-the-moment attempt to try and move us forward from whatever tantrum or heartbreak we were in the midst of. On the other hand, I probably should’ve thought it through just a tiny bit more to make sure that promise was something we could actually fulfill.

This balancing act of expectations and being held accountable is as old as humankind, and it’s particularly noticeable in the Torah this week. This week we read Parshat Noach, the story of Noah. This second section of text in the Torah takes us through the story of the flood, building the ark, Noah saving his family and the animals, sending out a dove, and God’s promise to never do this again. We learn of the generations of Noah and how humanity moved on to create the next piece of the narrative, the Tower of Bavel. After the Tower of Bavel, we see that the nations are scattered, and then the Torah quickly moves us through the 10 generations between Noah and Abraham, where the rest of our history takes off.

As God walks Noah and his family out of the destructive flood, a rainbow serves as God’s promise that “water will never again become a flood to destroy all flesh.”  Beyond this, the rainbow is meant to signify an ongoing commitment to the covenant for all time that we go through this world with God, not apart from. And yet, just a few verses later the whole of “flesh” builds a tower to the heavens that enrages God, but God has to hold true to this promise if they are to maintain any sense of trust going forward.  

The promise of “never again” is much more serious than mine of a water park adventure, and yet both put the weight of follow-through on our words and actions in the future.  Promises are made more challenging than necessary if we’re not cognizant of all the possible ramifications.

What Parshat Noach teaches us is that as difficult as they may be to keep sometimes, promises do more than guarantee an outcome for one party. The promises we make hold us accountable and remind us that words matter. 

The phrase “nature versus nurture” seems to imply that there’s a struggle between these two factors. It suggests that one needs to win out over the other. I disagree, though; I think we can be influenced by genetics and by our surroundings at the same time. I believe each of us becomes a mix of these two individuals: the one with innate traits and the one with learned behaviors. Take the story of Noah, for example.

This week we read Parshat Noach. This second section of text in the entire Torah takes us through the story of the flood, building the ark, saving his family and the animals, sending out a dove, and God’s promise to never do this again. We learn of the generations of Noah and how humanity moved on to create the next piece of the narrative, the Tower of Bavel. After the Tower of Bavel, we see that the nations are scattered, and then the Torah quickly covers the 10 generations between Noah and Abraham, where the rest of our biblical history takes off.

As the second parshah of the Torah begins, we’re met with a peculiar linguistic construct. The text begins, “This is the line of Noah. Noah was blameless in his generation.” The oddity comes with the repetition of the name Noah. After all, any English teacher would suggest it could’ve been more efficiently written, “This is the line of Noah, who was blameless in his generation.” However, as close readers of Torah, we understand that words – especially repeated words – are meant for emphasis and deeper meaning. So, why repeat the name Noah?

What if, in fact, the names refer to two people instead of one: the person who was born as Noah, and the person whom Noah chose to be? They aren’t literally two different individuals, but it’s the idea that Noah had to make a choice about who he would be, especially when you consider the world around him. He could be without morals or values, or he could be kind and upstanding. Based on the rest of the verse and what we know happens later, it appears that he made the choice to be an upstander.

Reading this parshah close after the High Holidays is our yearly reminder that how we act in the world is up to us and not where we come from. We are not fully defined by the generations before us. Instead, like Noah, we are fully capable of doing the hard work to change patterns, hold ourselves to higher standards, and make our example the one that future generations want to follow.

One of the parts of parenting that I struggle with the most is when my children’s actions have negative consequences, and they don’t understand they’ve brought it upon themselves. Because they are not developmentally ready to make that connection, they have no understanding that they played a role in causing those results. Instead, they blame me.

For example, I’ll tell the kids it’s time to go up stairs and get ready for bed. We set a timer, knowing that if it goes off before they’re ready for bed, that means we’re out of time for stories. The idea is to beat the timer to ensure you get a story. But of course they play around, dawdle, complain, do anything but get ready for bed. I gently remind them that the timer has started and if they don’t start listening and moving, there will be no story. In my mind, the expectations are very clearly set, but inevitably the timer goes off without finishing bedtime preparations, and we don’t have time for a book. Cue the tantrum from the children and my “you did this to yourself” conclusion that they can’t quite internalize.

While we may have a better grasp of situations and our roles as we mature, we still do this to ourselves as adults. Yes, sometimes our struggles have outside causes, but sometimes we have no one to blame but ourselves. Parshat Noach, our Torah portion this week, carries this message with it. Parshat Noach details the misbehavior of the people who inhabit the earth in this pre-Judaism time. We read about Noah as a beacon of hope among the despicable people of his town. God instructs Noah to build the ark, put the animals on it, and escape destruction under God’s protection during the flood. Noah’s story is capped off with a covenant between God and humankind to never again destroy the world. Unfortunately, the beauty of the rainbow is quickly tainted as we learn of the misdeeds committed by a new civilization in trying to reach up closer to God. 

As we read the story of the flood, God is very clear about why the flood is necessary: “I have decided to put an end to all flesh, for the earth is filled with lawlessness because of them; I am about to destroy them with the earth.” In other words, God reminds Noah that civilization brought this on themselves. Their behavior, the lack of rule following, the unethical, immoral, and nasty actions brought on this flood.

The lesson seems clear: we reap what we sow. Displacement of peoples, pollution, the healthcare crisis – these issues are ones we’ve brought on ourselves, and we have to change them ourselves. While my 4- and 7-year-old may not be able to fully grasp this, Parshat Noach reminds us that as adults, we are responsible for our actions and what happens because of them, positive and negative. 

If you’ve ever been responsible for a group of children or, let’s be honest, even just a single child, you know that eerie, nervous feeling that comes when their playspace is too quiet. At first, there’s that moment when you think, “Wow, it’s so quiet! How nice that the children are playing so well and aren’t screaming at me or each other.” Then, seconds later, the panic sets in when you suspect that the quiet was the sound of mischief and the kids trying to hide the fact that they were doing things you might not approve of. On the one hand, it’s great that they appear to be working together on something. On the other hand, what if what they’re working on is something they shouldn’t be doing?

This dilemma is what I imagine God feels this week in Parshat Noach. Parshat Noach details the misbehavior of the people who inhabit the earth in this pre-Judaism time. We read about Noah as a beacon of hope among the despicable people of his town. God instructs Noah to build the ark, put the animals on it, and escape destruction under God’s protection during the flood. Noah’s story is capped off with a covenant between God and humankind to never again destroy the world. Unfortunately, the beauty of the rainbow is quickly tainted as we learn of the misdeeds committed by a new civilization in trying to reach up closer to God. 

God has no sooner hit the reset button on humanity than the people get “quiet,” working together to build a tower upwards. On the positive side, this tower, the Tower of Bavel, was the result of the people uniting for a common purpose. However, that purpose was also filled with the wrong intention. Instead of building something that would move them forward as a society, they built upward out of a self-centered need to touch the heavens. 

Consequently, God scrambles the languages of the people so they can’t understand one another, and thus chaos ensues and they can’t really figure out how to work together on the tower or any other project. 

The ability to communicate is critical for productivity, for us as individuals to move forward together. What we learn from Parshat Noach is that it’s not enough simply to work together. The work has to be a common cause for good. When we build together, work to understand each other and communicate clearly we can change the world for good. When we approach these group efforts with the right intentions, we can literally change the world.

Survivor guilt (sometimes called survivor syndrome) is a term that describes feelings of guilt that result from a person believing they have done something wrong by surviving a tragic event which other people did not survive. Survivor guilt is not uncommon among survivors of large scale events like terrorist acts, war, and natural disasters, but it can also work its way into very personal tragedies, affecting the friends and family of those who died by suicide, for example.

There are countless destructive incidents that plague our world and plenty of stories of someone who was supposed to be on that flight or in that building but wasn’t. Sometimes those survivors carry around a tremendous amount of guilt on top of the grief as they continue to live while others perished, and harboring these feelings can lead to alienation or worse.

This week we read the story of Noah in Parshat Noach. This second section of text in the entire Torah takes us through the story of the flood, building the ark, saving his family and the animals, sending out a dove, and God’s promise to never do this again. We learn of the generations of Noah and how humanity moved on to create the next piece of the narrative, the Tower of Bavel. After the Tower of Bavel we see that the nations are scattered, and then the Torah quickly moves us through the 10 generations between Noah and Abraham, where the rest of our narrative history takes off.

Back to Noah, there is an interesting “blip” in Noah’s character in Parshat Noach. The flood is over, Noah and his sons come off the boat, and Noah finds his family alone in the world. The first thing Noah does after they disembark is to plant a vineyard. Chapter 9, verses 20-25 describe his subsequent behavior as a drunken stupor full of acts of impropriety. Apparently Noah and his sons find themselves needing to cope with their loneliness, and they turn to a vice to get them through. The sages imagine that Noah was overwhelmed by the task of rebuilding a destroyed world. This may have been mixed with feelings of isolation and simultaneously feelings of guilt that so many perished while he survived.

When we find ourselves in Noah’s position, feeling alone, angry, or guilty about our own life circumstances, it’s helpful to have coping mechanisms in place ahead of time. It’s challenging to push through a traumatic experience, but finding healthy ways to cope with our emotions is essential.

As a personal note, know that my door and inbox are always open. It’s our job as a community, and as a community we are always here to support one another. That’s how we survive.