Reconsidering Noah's Flood

Back in my conservative Christian high school days, I was confronted with all too many attempts to pit Genesis’ flood narrative against various aspects of science. There were critiques of carbon-dating, uranium-dating, and theories pertaining to evolution in all its aspects. I remember being shown a film attempting to prove that all the animals of earth could have found space in the ark, with calls for speciation to come about after the flood so as to allow for appropriate space.

It struck me as investing way too much time and energy into proving that the Bible had to be taken literally, word for word, despite obvious issues as the text’s antiquity reaching back far beyond the introduction of the scientific method and concerns with precision. The existence of other flood narratives around the world was deemed proof that there was a monumental flood that remained entrenched in human conscience on a global scale. Even so, there was no attempt to actually read some of these other narratives to compare them to the Genesis account.

I brought some of my questions to Dad (Th.D. in Old Testament), and he referred me to some of the distinctives between the Gilgamesh epic and the Genesis narrative as regards their theology. He helped me see that there was much more going on here than attempting to defend notions of a global flood. He raised some other issues with taking the narrative literally. Where did all the water go? As I did further research on it, I discovered a host of other notions behind the Hebrew text that called for a lot more reflection than simply attempting to force the narrative into a literalist mold.

In the Gilgamesh epic, Gilgamesh is a hero. He not only rescues humanity and preserves the created order, he is even responsible for rescuing the very gods. They had not counted on the fact that by wiping out humanity, they would starve as there would be no one to offer them sacrifices. When Gilgamesh does offer sacrifice at the end of the epic, the gods swoop down like birds to satiate their hunger. Gilgamesh has taken all sorts of initiative to proactively set things aright, while the gods were too busy worrying over their lost sleep due to human noise pollution to think through the consequences of their decisions and actions.

Noah is no Gilgamesh. Noah is no hero. Noah takes no initiative. Noah does not even speak in the narrative until the flood is already past. Yahweh is the one who directs Noah’s steps, tells him how to construct the ark, brings the animals on board, and even shuts the door. Afterwards, Noah offers sacrifice. Then he plants a vineyard. It is as if he plants in the morning and reaps grapes that afternoon. When he presses them, wine flows out, not juice. The fruitfulness of earth has reverted to a paradise in the absence of sin. The scourge of sin’s consequences have been wiped away. Then Noah speaks.

The first words we find recorded for Noah are a curse on his son and grandson. Sin has made its way back into creation at the first opportunity of human initiative. We are left with some questions to ponder. Did Yahweh not foresee consequences any better than those Babylonian deities? If wiping out humanity was an ineffective response to sin, why would Yahweh have sent the flood in the first place? As a matter of fact, maybe we should be asking a deeper question. If punishment for sin is not a significant deterrent, why would God even attempt to wipe out evildoers? If it were necessary, why not wipe out Noah, as well? After all, the excuse given for leaving Noah behind was that Noah had found grace before Yahweh.

Suddenly, this flood narrative is a call to theological reflection. It is a polemic or critique of the Babylonian flood myth. It is also a cause for monumental theological reflection on the character of Yahweh. Why would the same Yahweh who had protected Cain after his fratricide of Abel suddenly decide to wipe out humanity because of our sin? Which is the more appropriate picture of Yahweh?

If we are still stuck on a literalist reading of the narrative as the only appropriate way to interpret Scripture, why did Methuselah die in the year of the flood? Why is Noah’s son, Seth still alive decades into the lifetime of Abraham, and yet seems to have been a long-forgotten character in the background to Abraham’s arrival on the scene?

It would seem that the Noah story is nothing at all like what my high school attempted to teach me. It is not that God is quick to punish. It is not that God is more concerned with condemnation than with life. It is not that the importance of the Scriptures are knowing details of human history. Rather, it is a call for us to reflect upon God, God’s goodness, God’s grace, even while understanding that our sin gets in the way and diminishes life as it could be. God is not the one hung up on a desire to murder and condemn. That is who we are. We are the ones who had destroyed God’s creation at the beginning of the story. The earth was already destroyed, so Yahweh was just putting creation out of its misery to start over.

This is now a theological narrative with several overlapping layers. It is a text that becomes a rich well-spring for reflection. It is a call to take a renewed look at who Yahweh is and see God’s character in a new light. There are the questions and concerns that matter. The details of the ark’s construction become irrelevant in the light of these other questions. Being concerned with debunking science also gets swept aside, as this is a theological narrative, not a scientific account of history from a pre-scientific people. If we can’t see that, we can’t begin to grapple with the weightier theological concerns here. They will just rush past us like the waters of a flood.

— ©Copyright 2023, Christopher B. Harbin 

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