One of the most dramatic events to shape the world and humanity was the Flood, which swept across the earth and destroyed everything on it, leaving only Noah and his family, the animals he had brought into the Ark, and the fish in the waters.
At the beginning of Creation, the world was created in perfection and goodness, destined to exist without death or disease.
However, following Adam’s sin and his expulsion from the Garden of Eden, evil entered the human experience.
Humanity eventually reached a state in which, in the words of the Torah, “the earth was filled with violence.”
Violence, corruption, and the absence of moral boundaries undermined the very foundations of human existence, until the world reached a breaking point.
The Flood was therefore a turning point in the history of Creation, an attempt to halt the downward spiral and open a new chapter in the history of the world.
When Noah and his family emerge from the Ark, they encounter a world entirely different from the one they had known: ruined, desolate, and silent, no longer filled with the human activity that had been inseparable from their lives.
Try to imagine that moment. A small family stands before an immense, empty world, with no cities, no communities, no other human beings, and nothing of the familiar world they once knew.
No one is there to welcome them. There is no one with whom to share their feelings, and no certainty about what life will look like from that point onward.
What would be the first thing you would choose to do in such a moment? How does one respond to destruction on a scale that is almost impossible to comprehend?
The Torah describes Noah’s first act:
“Noah went out, together with his sons, his wife, and his sons’ wives.
“Noah built an altar to the Lord, and taking from every clean animal and every clean bird, he offered burnt offerings on the altar” (Gen. 8:18-20).
Noah does not begin his new life by trying to rebuild the world, constructing a home for himself, or first attending to his family’s practical needs. The first act described in the Torah is building an altar and offering a sacrifice to God.
This act acknowledges the Creator’s sovereignty, gives thanks, and submits oneself before the One who governs the world. Noah recognizes that even when reality appears harsh and incomprehensible, the world does not operate by chance. In the very midst of devastation and destruction, he expresses his connection with the One who spoke the world into existence.
Then an unexpected turn takes place. The Torah describes how Noah’s act leads to a divine promise concerning the future of all humanity:
“The Lord smelled the pleasing aroma, and the Lord said to Himself: I will never again curse the ground because of man, for the inclination of the human heart is evil from his youth; nor will I ever again destroy every living thing as I have done” (Gen. 8:21).
World continues to exist with evil in it
God promises that He will never again bring a Flood to destroy all life on earth, and that the world will continue to exist even though evil remains within it.
Yet this very promise raises a question. For many years, Noah stood alone against an entire generation, admonishing its members, trying to influence them and change their ways. Nevertheless, the Flood was not averted. Yet now, after the destruction, a single act of his elicits such a profound response. What was it about this act that gave it such extraordinary power?
The Mishna in Tractate Makkot states:
“Rabbi Hananya ben Akashya says: The Holy One, blessed be He, wished to bring merit to Israel; therefore, He gave them an abundance of Torah and commandments, as it is stated: ‘The Lord desired, for the sake of His righteousness, to make the Torah great and glorious’” (Makkot 3:16).
The Rambam, Maimonides, explains this teaching of the Mishna, establishing an important principle for understanding the significance of the commandments:
“One of the fundamental principles of faith in the Torah is that if a person fulfills one of the 613 commandments properly and correctly, without involving any worldly objective whatsoever, but performs it purely for its own sake, out of love, that person merits the World to Come through it.
“Rabbi Hananya therefore said that because of the great number of commandments, it is impossible for a person not to perform at least one of them perfectly at some point during his lifetime, thereby meriting the eternal survival of the soul through that act” (Commentary on the Mishna, Tractate Makkot).
These words express a central principle of serving the Creator. The commandments are not merely a list of actions a person must perform; they express the relationship between the individual and God.
A person may perform a good deed to earn honor or gain status. He may also act out of habit or loyalty to the tradition in which he was raised. In the language of our Sages, all these may be considered commandments performed shelo lishma – not purely for their own sake.
Maimonides points to the central goal of fulfilling the commandments: performing them lishma, for their own sake, out of love for the Creator and a desire to fulfill His will, without any personal interest mixed in.
We can now understand that Noah’s efforts before the Flood do not diminish his righteousness. However, when a person acts before an entire community, additional motives may accompany his actions.
After the Flood, the situation is entirely different. Noah builds an altar and offers a sacrifice without seeking to prove his righteousness to anyone, compete with anyone, or gain status. After all, the world is empty of other people. He acts solely because he wishes to serve his Creator and acknowledge His goodness. This is a pure act performed lishma, for its own sake.
Such a clean and genuine act, performed entirely for the sake of Heaven, has the power to ensure the world’s continued existence forever. For this is the very purpose of Creation, and now that this purpose has been fulfilled, humanity can endure.
This idea is relevant to our everyday lives as well. The deeper test often comes precisely when no one is watching.
Imagine someone driving alone late at night who finishes drinking a cup of coffee. He could throw the empty cup out the window, thinking that no one will notice.
Yet in that moment, he discovers whether keeping the environment clean and acting responsibly toward it are values he truly believes in, or whether he observes them only because he fears the reaction of others.
In a generation in which sharing our experiences and actions has become central to social life, this aspect of serving God deserves our attention as well.
People share acts of kindness, charitable donations, volunteer initiatives, and other good deeds on social media.
This has a positive side: publicizing a good deed can inspire others, encourage them to act, and create additional circles of generosity.
However, alongside the benefits of sharing, we must not lose the ability to do good without telling anyone about it.
When every action becomes an opportunity to share, a person may grow accustomed to measuring a deed’s value by the degree of exposure and recognition it receives. Instead of asking whether he has done the right thing, he may find himself wondering whether he will receive positive responses and whether others will think more highly of him as a result.
It is therefore important to preserve an inner space where our good deeds remain between ourselves and our Creator, without needing applause or expecting recognition.
The writer is rabbi of the Western Wall and holy sites.