Hello, Brandeis community!

 

You—the big you, the collective you, the community—have been much on my mind this week. That is often true when I have the opportunity to visit other Jewish community organizations (both Sherith Israel and Temple Emanu-El this week)—I see and hear reflections of our community’s strength everywhere I go: in the appreciative stories rabbis tell of our students as we sit over lunch, in the board leadership of these community organizations, and in the many connections, broad and deep, that we hold and maintain throughout the Bay Area.

 

A community tradition we have in many of our meetings is to begin by sharing a d’var Torah, a word of Torah, and this week I had the pleasure of writing one for our budget and finance Committee, which I thought I’d share with you here.

 

Unlike some of the more obscure parts of the Torah, this week’s parashah (portion), Noach, tells a story every one of you is likely familiar with. As the name perhaps suggests, it is the story of Noah’s ark, in which the world becomes corrupted and God instructs Noah to build a ship of gopher wood to save his family and the animals of the earth from a flood. As I read through the familiar story myself, I was fascinated by how quantitative it was—how so many of the verses refer to specific lengths or amounts. So, in that spirit, here you go: Noach by the numbers.

 

The ark is three hundred cubits long, fifty cubits wide, and thirty cubits high. A cubit is about 1.5 feet (or 20.24 inches, to be exact), which means the ark was about 450 feet long. That is approximately the size of the yacht on which Bill Gates and his family vacationed in 2014, which cost $5 million per week to rent, and included amenities like a submarine and a helicopter. I have no information about the number of animals they had on board.

 

The animals, as you know, came two by two to the ark.

 

The most significant number in the parashah is the number forty—a number of great significance throughout the Torah (forty years in the desert, forty days and nights on Mt. Sinai, etc.). God makes it rain for forty days and forty nights. The Talmud connects this number with a mikveh, the ritual bath in which one purifies him- or herself, which must be filled with 40 se’ahs, or measures of water. Rabbis have suggested that the number forty represents renewal—like the mikveh and the flood—as well as challenge or trial—like the desert. As an educator, I love the connection between challenge and renewal—it speaks of a growth mindset and our best hopes for our children, who find new strength in themselves as they embrace the difficulties of learning and of life.

Reading about the flood and thinking about challenge, my mind turned to a current trial our community is facing: the California drought, as well as the upcoming El Niño season we are anticipating. The contrast between those two brought to mind a verse I love from performance poet Roger Bonair-Agard’s poem “How do you spell freedom,” itself taken from a Negro spiritual: "God gave Noah the rainbow sign / said no more water, the fire next time" (which you have to hear in Bonair-Agard’s Trinidadian accent to fully appreciate). In California though, we are hoping to go from fire to water.

 

Here are some numbers on the California drought:

 

Now, while all of that may sound scary, there are reasons for hope. In May of this year, Texas experienced the wettest month on record: 35 trillion gallons of water fell from the sky. This was powered by the Godzilla El Niño headed our way, which you have likely heard about. Here are some numbers on that:

 

As God says to Noah, when the rainbow sign appears, it will be a sign of a covenant with Noah and every living creature—“and the water will no longer become a flood to destroy all flesh.” In the spirit of Noach then, may this season drench us—not with floods of destruction, we hope, but in the waters of renewal.

 

Wishing you all happy weekends, full of community and renewal.

 

Warmly,

 

Dan