We would be so tempted to read the story of Noah’s Ark as a fairytale. The rain begins to fall. The animals are loaded onto the ark. Following forty days of commotion and chaos, the rain stops. The dove comes back with an olive branch, signaling the start of a new chapter. The rainbow in the sky indicates that never again will such a flood occur. The world begins to blossom once more. It all feels so simple, even heart-warming.

I believe, however, that there are underpinnings to the story that are far less childlike. In so many ways, the story is perfect for this complex moment in which we find ourselves. The Torah portion begins with Noah being identified as the only righteous soul in his generation. He is called upon to build the ark because all about him is corruption and lawlessness. We also witness each day the greed, pain and bigotry of our time. We have seen so much hate with our own eyes. We are witness to war, poverty, the undoing of democratic institutions, misogyny, homophobia, xenophobia, islamophobia and much more. We look around, maybe as Noah did, wondering where the good people are? Who is going to stand up to such lawlessness and pain? Who is going to join in the fight against injustice?

Like Noah, we too can feel terribly alone. How lonesome must it have felt before and during the flood? Noah was in search of someone he could relate to, share with, vent to… someone who saw things as he did. We understand the feeling too well. To be a conscientious, engaged lover of Israel, not buying into lazy talking points, is to feel alone. To be a Reform Jew, pushing back on some of our age-old Jewish norms and age-old Jewish interpretations, is to feel alone. To be an American citizen, committed to the highest ideals of our nation, is to often feel alone. 

The Midrash will also teach that the ark was completely sealed off from the devastation taking place outside. Neither Noah nor his family could see the storms ravishing the environment outside their vessel. Sometimes, we too might be tempted to look away from the pains and problems of today. We might be tempted to turn inward and thus deny the challenges so many are living with these days. We might want to say: ‘My life is good enough; why busy myself with the profound brokenness in our society or our government?’ We cannot look away. We must not look away. Not from the Cornell Seven, not from proposed public executions, not from the actions of ICE, not from transphobic legislation, not from antisemitic speech and actions, not from threats to a free press, not from the eroding separation of church and state. We cannot look away.

In the end, in spite of all of it, Noah’s story is a story of hope. The rainbow appears in the sky. The flood waters recede. Life begins anew. We must live each day with this hope in our heart. We must believe that tomorrow will bring with it greater peace and compassion, not by some magical waving of the wand, but because we will help make it so.