Disembarkation: Noah’s Burden, God’s Promise, and a New Beginning

1658 AM (2102 BCE) – DISEMBARKATION

Noah stacked the last of the stones for the new altar. His thoughts drifted through recent events. He looked around the landscape of the mountain upon which they had landed. It was quiet, save the wind. The wind howled for the many voices silenced and sitting at the bottom of the sea.

Noah looked up. Evening was approaching, and the moon was just coming up over the horizon. He had first noticed the moon on the many long nights when he would go above deck, after the rains. There were times that the waters would be so calm, you felt as if you could walk on them. And so many stars to the horizon in all directions.

And the moon, that lesser light, was not just a hazy little luminescence to govern the night, but a perfectly clear and perfectly round glowing ball that looked as though it was made from a stone thrown across the heavens. Yet, somehow, it seemed stuck in the sky, almost frozen in time, not moving, but always on the move, especially if you were not looking.

Something about the moon reminded Noah of the surrounding landscape. It was barren, with little vegetation.

Desolate.

The worries mounted. The larder on the Ark was lean. Ham, Shem, and Japheth were all caring for little ones. What would they eat? What would the animals eat? No suitable grazing areas were apparent from his vantage point, and he could see a great distance in every direction.

The soil did not appear to be good. Most of it must have washed into the sea. Noah could see massive canyons as deep and as wide as the mountain he was standing on. Clearly, the waters of the heavens and the waters of the deep caused catastrophic changes to the surface of the land.

Noah looked back toward the Ark. His sons were preparing the Ark for the animals to disembark. They would have to let most of them go free. They could no longer care for them. Many had procreated, and, well, they just could no longer care for them. It would be up to El to make sure the animals survive.

“El,” Noah thought, as he looked back to the stone altar. “Adonai,” he said to himself softly, thinking back to the words of Methuselah, “El is Adonai.”

Noah stacked pieces of the Ark he had splintered away from the wreckage. They were ideal for fire. The wood was dry and hard, and it was already plastered with pitch, which was highly flammable.

Noah killed one of every kind of clean animal and bird. It concerned him how all the killing did not even prick his conscience. After what he saw and heard, the wailing … and then the silence. He was changed, though he was grateful they had been delivered.

Noah lit the fire.

He watched the flames flicker slowly, as a slow dance, soothing and melodic to the eyes. His thoughts ran backwards in time to when he was just standing there with Methuselah as the rains began to fall. Lightning forced Noah to look out at the rain. And the rain … it was such a strange thing. Water was simply falling from the sky and collecting on the ground. There was no longer a mist. Noah looked back toward Methuselah, trying to catch his eyes, but he could not. They were closed. Methuselah was gone.

And then, suddenly, Noah’s thoughts were with Enoch, heading to the Garden to discuss the coming judgment. Oh, if only Enoch could see what Noah now understood, maybe he would have tried a little harder. Maybe he could have convinced Adonai not to…? Not to do what? And, really, could he have?

And then Noah saw Seth, with his battered sledge of wood, and how he would continue to teach everyone about the ways of Abba, the ways of El, the ways of Adonai.

But then, Noah was standing alongside his father Adam and his mother Eve, as the fierce Angel with the flaming sword escorted them out of the Garden and stood at the entrance. Noah looked back into the Garden for the Nachash, but the Nachash, the great serpent of old, was nowhere to be found.

Forceful tears finally began to flood Noah’s eyes for the first time in a very long time. Noah realized that the Dragon had successfully caused the extinction of everyone in creation, save just eight lowly people. Everyone – his family, his friends – they all had surely died.

The fire, burning hot and high, brought Noah back to the present, as his thoughts had been running amok. Yet, Noah’s heart broke and mourned for the wicked who had perished.

“Noah,” a stranger’s voice called out from behind him.

Noah looked up, but it was not a stranger. It was Adonai standing there.

“Adonai!” Noah said, closing his eyes in a tearful, blustery relief, “Oh, Adonai! I…,” Noah began, looking back up to meet the eyes of his Maker, “I feel lost, tired. Methuselah spoke so highly of you. It’s just, there is a burden I am carrying, but I do not know what it is. Some kind of torch to light, some kind of fire, but I do not know what or how or who. I love life. What can I compare it to? I see animals born, and it’s a wonder. I see them die, and I weep. At least I used to. Methuselah spoke of rebellion and showed me the bloodied lamb skins you once gave to Adam and Eve to cover them. And I just don’t know what I am to do. I am over six hundred years old, and I feel like I am running out of time!”

“I understand,” Adonai replied, “and that is why I came. You need to teach your children to understand what you have learned about me, about life, and what is expected of humanity. The evil that once was has been purged from the surface of the earth. But it will also need to be purged from your hearts.”

“Our heart?” Noah responded, perplexed.

“You do not have the followers of the Dragon constantly whispering poison into your ears. It’s a clean slate, a fresh start. But you must teach good to your children and teach them to teach their children to teach good to their children. Some will listen; undoubtedly others will not. You have been anointed, as your father was, to carry the seed of righteousness. This seed will one day be planted and will yield a garden that will cover all of creation. But until then, this seed must be protected and passed on.”

“But how? I mean, how can I protect this seed?”

“Simply by being faithful. Keep my commands. Be fruitful and multiply; fill the land. Teach your children to live and to live well—to seek my truth. Do what is right. Adam ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. That knowledge is no longer enough. So, listen to your Adonai, who brought you across the waters of judgment, for here is what you now need to know and what you need to teach.

If you want the nations, which you will one day become, to thrive, you must not follow the ways of the Dragon. He will send his dark messengers and they will convince many that they are gods. But they are not gods; they are idols of deception. I am the one, true, and living Adonai. Worship me alone. Keep me and my name reverent. Do not call good evil or evil good.”

“Do not take life. As you can see, to take a single life is to destroy an entire civilization, when you consider that person’s child, their children, etc. I, alone, created life; I alone can take it. If a man takes a life, then they must forfeit their own. And do not steal what someone else has built or acquired, for, as you know, that takes time, and time is life. So, theft is the partial murder of someone’s life, and partial restitution must be paid.”

“And you know what they were doing before the flood—defiling their marriage bed, their children, their animals. You must marry, be fruitful, multiply, fill the earth, and raise strong and moral children. Subdue the evil. This means that you must establish a civilization that will enforce morality and ensure true justice occurs.”

Adonai’s voice paused for just a moment before continuing, to give Noah a chance to respond. But Noah said nothing. He was lost in his own thoughtful contemplation.

“Now, Noah, I have also heard your unspoken request, and I know your anxiety and concerns. You are not wrong. The land cannot sustain even the few of you. And you will continue to quickly grow in number. The soil is not yet ready, but it will be in a few years. I know it is unthinkable, but you will have to eat some of the clean animals.”

“Uh,” Noah started, “you mean, uh, eat them eat them?”

Adonai understood very well Noah’s hesitation. Humans had always been vegetarians. Only the most perverse people following the lines of Cain even thought to eat animals before the flood. But times were different. Noah did not even consider animals as food, and there would be some hard adjustments.

“I have put a fear of you in the animals now. They will naturally move away from wherever you are settled. This will protect you until their numbers and your numbers are up. So, you will need to raise some flocks of clean animals and eat those, leaving the wild ones alone. When you do eat them, though, you must drain the blood from the animal. For the blood is the life of the animal. It is sacred. Pour it on the ground. Let it be a reminder to you of the price I am willing to pay to preserve your life.”

“For as precious as animals are—and believe me when I tell you that every drop of their blood will be accounted for—your lives and the lives of all who are to follow you are infinitely more valuable to me than you could ever, ever know. So, when you find yourself in a compromising situation, and you know that you are doing evil, stop doing that evil and go back to doing what is good, and I will always be there waiting for you. Always.”

Noah closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Exhaling sharply, Noah looked again at Adonai, this time with clarity and determination, “Ok. I think I can do that.”

Then, Adonai spoke, “Very well. Then my promise to you will be this: I will never destroy all living things as I have done, just because the hearts of many grow evil. That does not mean that I will prevent that evil from destroying itself, though many will perish alongside that evil. There are bigger issues at play here. Thus, there will always be seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night.”

“The land will not be cursed to anyone, and it will always yield its strength to you, even if everyone chooses to turn against me and my ways—though it will never be everyone, for I will always be faithful to preserve a remnant, as you well know. But even still, if everyone chooses to follow the evil inclination from birth, I will allow it to rain on the righteous and the wicked alike.”

“And because of all of this, you and your descendants will have true freedom and liberty and self-determination. And only from that can true love and devotion to me spring forth. If you are not free to rebel against me and hate me, your obedience and your adoration are meaningless. But, oh, for you to choose life and to choose goodness and to choose to love freely, you cannot possibly imagine the rewards that will await you. Now, look up.”

Noah lost his breath. He had never seen such colors.

“This is a rainbow,” Adonai declared.

Noah bleated, “It’s so beautiful. So many colors … what is it? What is a rainbow? What is causing all those colors?”

“The colors of the rainbow are caused by the refraction of light through water droplets relative to your angle of inclination with respect to the greater light, as the reflected light returns to your eyes.”

Adonai looked at Noah, and Noah looked back at Adonai. “So, what is this rainbow?” Noah once again bleated.

“The rainbow is made from the greater light reflecting off the rain. It is there simply to remind you of the promise that I will keep the planet sustainable for you to go and live your life. I would prefer for you to follow my commands. I would prefer it that everyone would. It would be best for everyone if they did. But I know not all will. My promise is that the earth will remain a self-sustaining place for the righteous along with the wicked. You are all my creation. The earth is my creation. Space and time, the heavens and the earth, were all made to service you, not for you to service them. Earth was made for man, not man for the earth.”

Adonai paused to allow Noah to reflect on his last words before continuing.

“My expectation for you is to fill the earth. And not just fill it, but fill it with moral and just societies, not vile and perverted people acting as the animals do, but people with discipline and virtues and goodness. When you see the rainbow, that will be a sign for you to remember that. Now, go … and choose to live.”

Suddenly a huge wind enveloped them both, like a flock of a million birds swarming them, but there were no birds. The coals on the altar glowed brightly in response to the wind, and the coals finally burst violently into flames. Then, just as suddenly, the wind was gone, as was Adonai. But Noah’s mind was clear, and he could see all the words Adonai had spoken. They danced in his mind like a comforting quilt and wrapped him in warmth and boldness.

Noah turned around and he felt tremendously light. His worries and anxieties about their survival had completely melted away. The trip back to the Ark felt surprisingly easy. Noah truly had a new lease on life. Maybe he would plant a vineyard? He looked forward to holding his wife in his arms, along with their new grandbabies, little Elam, Gomer, and Kush!

Used with permission by the author. Find the author’s complete works online: Complete Works of Mack Samuels