Signs and Wonders

by Bernard Evslin

  Now, in the midst of all this wickedness lived a man named Noah, who was gentle and kind and tried to raise his three sons to be good men.

  God saw how Noah was living, and spoke to him: “You will see the end of all flesh. I have decided to blot man from the earth, for he is too violent and corrupt to live. But your life I will spare, Noah, and the lives of your wife and your sons and their wives.”

  “Thank you, Lord,” said Noah.

  “You must build an ark—a boat of cypress wood,” said God, “the largest one ever built. It must be three stories high and as big as six of your houses put together—big enough to hold every kind of animal and bird, two of each. You shall take aboard, also, two of each creeping thing, such as snakes and crocodiles. You must stock enough food to feed your family and all the animals, for the beasts will not be permitted to eat one another, and your voyage through the waters of wrath will last almost a year. Work ceaselessly, you and your sons, for even now I am preparing my flood.”

  Noah did exactly what God told him. He and his sons, Shem, Ham, and Japheth, went to work building the ark. They worked night and day, stopping only for a little food and a little sleep, for they saw the black clouds rolling across the face of the sky and they knew that the terrible rain was soon to fall. Nor did they stop work to answer their neighbors, who came to jeer at them.

  “You have gone mad!” they said to Noah. “Why are you building so huge a vessel so far from the sea? How will you launch it?”

  “Perhaps the waters will come to us,” said Noah. “Perhaps you should be building boats, too.” But he kept working even as he said this. And the neighbors laughed and jeered and paid no heed to his warning.

  Finally, the ark was finished. And it was built exactly as God had instructed—an enormous three-story houseboat, 450 feet long, 75 feet wide, and 45 feet high. A door big enough to admit the largest animal was cut into its side, and there were windows to see through. And the seams were caulked with pitch inside and outside.

  When the ark was finished, Noah and his sons and their wives worked harder than ever, loading the cargo space with sacks of flour and dried meat and dried fish and great cheeses, with sacks of apples and oranges and figs, and with jars of honey.

  Then God appeared to Noah and said: “You are a good man. Carefully have you prepared the ark of your salvation. It will keep you afloat when I drown the wicked. Now you have just seven days before I break the fountains of the deep and hurl the tides of my vengeance upon this earth. Herd together the animals, as I have commanded you, and gather the birds of air. Bring them into your ark two by two, then get aboard with all your family. In seven days the rains shall fall.”

  Seven days and seven nights Noah and the sons of Noah and their wives worked, eating as they worked, and sleeping not at all. But by the end of the seven days they had herded together the beasts of earth and gathered all the fowl of air, and marched them two by two—male and female of each kind—up the gangway and through the great door of the ark. God had given the animals a special wit for the occasion, so they did not flee their herders and did not attack them, but allowed themselves to be led tamely into the ark. Even the wildest beasts—even lion and tiger, gigantic elephant, and deadly grinning crocodile.

  Then, at the end of seven days, when all the animals were aboard, Shem, Ham, and Japheth boarded the ark with their mother and their wives. When all were aboard, Noah took one last look at his home and his garden and his orchard, then walked slowly up the gangway and slid shut the great door.

  His neighbors, who had watched the parade of animals with amazement, now fell into a terrible rage as they watched Noah climb into the ark.

  “That’s right, madman,” they screamed. “Lock yourself into your stinking zoo. But don’t try to come out, or we’ll kill you!”

  The sight of what they did not understand made their wickedness more wicked. But they did not have much time to think about Noah, for on that day the rain began to fall.

  It was no ordinary rain. It did not fall in drops, but in thick foaming ropes like a waterfall—as if a mighty hand had lifted an ocean out of its bed and flung it down toward earth. And that is what was happening, for God had kept his promise and broken up the fountains of the deep and was hurling their great waters through the windows of heaven.

  The water rose so swiftly that most people did not have time to climb to the roof of their house but were drowned inside. And those who were able to climb to the roof lived only a short time longer, for in an hour the water had climbed past the highest roof. Some people clung to wooden beds and planks of wood and floated awhile, but the water was whipped by the wind into a savage boiling torrent, and all who had managed to keep afloat were pulled under.

  Noah looked out through the porthole in great wonder. He saw the houses being washed away, and the barns. He saw the fields disappear under sheets of water. He saw the water climb higher than the trees and cover the forests. But not a drop of water leaked into the ark. And he felt the great vessel rise comfortably as the water rose and float easily upon the surface. Nor did it pitch and toss when the gusts of wind hit it, but rocked gently and floated away north by west.

  And Noah’s heart was torn. He rejoiced in God’s mercy, which had plucked him from the raging flood, but he grieved to see his neighbors drown. He forgot their wickedness when he saw them struggling in the water; he forgot the envy and hatred they had turned upon him, and pitied them as they fought to keep afloat and sank out of his sight.

  He went to look at the animals. They stood quietly in the great hold of the ship. Some slept. All were peaceable. For God had laid his truce upon them to last all the time they would be in the ark, and the hunters did not hunt nor the hunted flee. The great cats ignored the cattle; the eagle did not pounce upon the lamb. Nor did any of the savage beasts fight among themselves. They obeyed God’s truce and waited patiently to be fed.

  Only the camel complained. He had been staring out the porthole and was made sorrowful by the great waste of waters. For he loved dry land; the hotter and drier it was, the more he loved it. The desert was his chosen place. So he uttered a loud, bawling, grating cry of outrage and dismay—and has spoken that way ever since.

  It rained for forty days and forty nights. The water kept rising. Every man and woman on earth was drowned, and every beast and bird and creeping thing that was not on the ark. All living things perished, except the fish, and even they were very frightened, because the water had risen so high that they found themselves swimming over the tops of strange mountains. Yes, the waters rose above the tops of the highest mountains, and everything that had been alive was dead, except those aboard the ark.

  At last the rain stopped falling. Noah and his family had become so used to the drumbeat of rain and the howling wind that they were shocked by the sudden silence. Now for the first time in forty days they were able to come up on deck. Three decks there were on the ark. The birds perched on the top deck. The beasts stood on the middle deck—all except the camel, who stayed below. And the men and women stood on the lower deck, drawing in greedy breaths of fresh air and looking at the sky, which was still covered with clouds.

  God held back the waters now and stopped the great fountains of the sky. He blew the clouds away and let the sun come out. And Noah and his family, watching from the deck, saw nothing but an endless plain of water. The whole earth was one ocean, and upon the face of that vast sea the ark floated alone.

  But the sun shone forth hotly each day and the waters began to shrink. Then, one day, Noah felt the timbers shudder and heard a grinding noise. He saw that the ark was resting on a rock. He knew that it must be a mountain top, and that the waters were shrinking.

  But it took three more months for the water to sink far enough for Noah to see the entire mountain range. Beyond the mountains he saw nothing but water, and he did not dare to leave the ark.

  By now ten months had passed since the rains began, and food was running low. Noah watched and watched as the waters
sank slowly, but still he could see nothing but mountains and a waste of waters.

  After forty days he loosed a raven, which flew away. But the raven did not return, and Noah did not know if it had found dry land, or had drowned, or was perched on another mountain. And now the food was almost gone.

  He tossed a dove into the air to see if she could find dry land. But she found no rest for the sole of her foot and came flying back to the ark.

  Seven days passed and the food was gone. Everyone was hungry and frightened.

  “Do not lose hope,” said Noah. “God promised that He would bring us safely through the flood, and His word is my faith.”

  Again he tossed the dove into the air. The bird winged off. They watched her disappear, and they were hungry and sad.

  Noah stood watch all day. Just as the sun was setting he saw the dove fly back, and his heart lurched in despair because her return meant that she had found no dry land, and now they must surely starve to death aboard the ark. But, looking more closely, he saw that the bird was carrying something in her beak.

  When she perched on his shoulder, he saw that she carried an olive branch, freshly picked. So Noah knew that the dove had found dry land at the foot of the mountain, and that trees were growing again. “Forgive me, Lord, for doubting,” he said. “And thank you for your mercy.”

  Now God spoke to Noah, saying, “Go forth from the ark, you and your wife and your sons and their wives. Bring forth every living thing that is with you—wild beasts, cattle, birds, and every creeping thing. For I wish them to swarm upon the earth again and be fruitful and multiply.”

  Noah then instructed his sons to loose the animals. The birds flew off in a great rush of wings, darkening the sky again, as if the clouds had returned, and shrieking their joy. Then the beasts were led off the ark, two by two—the smaller ones first, then the sheep and goats and cattle. These were taken first so that they could descend the mountain and scatter in safety before Noah allowed the lions and tigers and wolves and bears to leave. For Noah knew that God’s truce upon the animals ended at the foot of the mountain, and that once all the animals had gone down the hunters must hunt again and the hunted flee.

  When the ark was empty of animals, Noah and his sons and their wives came down the mountain. The sun was shining, but the grass and trees were still wet and sparkled like jewels in the sunlight. The world looked all fresh and new, and very empty. Noah lifted his arms to the mountain and said: “Your name shall be Ararat.” This meant “holy ground” in his language.

  Noah’s sons wished to raise tents for shelter. But Noah said: “We do nothing before we raise an altar, and sacrifice to the Lord and thank Him for His mercy.”

  They raised an altar of wood and made a burnt offering. The smoke arose in a sweet savor, and the Lord was pleased. He said to Noah: “I have drawn off the waters and spared you, Noah, you and your sons and their wives. Now you must be fruitful and bring forth many sons and daughters and renew the race of man. And since you are again first and alone upon earth, as was Adam, I will renew the pledge I made to Adam. Man shall rule. Beast of earth and bird of air and fish that swarm the seas shall serve your needs. All these shall be for your use, for milk and meat and honey and clothing. Green things that grow shall be food for you, also. But you shall eat nothing alive; this I forbid. And though you may kill animals for food, you may not kill one another. Whoever kills man, woman, or child shall pay a blood price. The killer shall be killed. That is my law.”

  “I hear your words and obey,” said Noah. “And I shall teach my sons to obey.”

  “This, too, I say to you, Noah. I will never again curse the earth because man has displeased me. Some part of evil lay in the very dust of which I made him. So I shall not again blot him off the earth for the evil impulses of his heart. While the earth hangs in my heavens, seed time and harvest, summer and winter, day and night shall not cease.”

  “Thank you, Lord,” said Noah.

  God said : “Noah, blessed among men, survivor of my wrath, you stand here for all mankind on this day, and shall hear my vow. Never again shall the waters of my vengeance kill every living thing. I make this pledge to you, and to your sons after you unto the last generation, and to every beast and bird that came out of the ark with you. Never again shall the earth suffer a total flood, never again shall all life be blotted out. For I am the source of life, my breath is life, my intention is life. As a sign of this pledge, which I call a covenant, behold, I place a bow of many colors in the sky, a bridge of colored light arching from heaven to earth. After a storm of rain I shall fling these colors across the sky so that you and all living creatures may be reminded of my mercy, and that I, looking upon the rainbow, shall remember my pledge.

  “There it stands in the sky, Noah, the rainbow, the bridge of many colors. Look upon it. Raise your tents and renew my world.”

  Noah and his sons raised tents and dwelt in them. They planted gardens and orchards and grazed their cattle upon the great meadows of grass. Noah planted a vineyard. He pressed the grapes and drank the wine—the first wine ever poured—and fell into a drunken sleep.

  His son Ham entered the tent and saw Noah sprawled naked and snoring in his drunken sleep. Ham ran to his brothers and told his tale, jeering at what he had seen. But his brothers, Shem and Japheth, went to Noah’s tent and covered their father’s nakedness.

  Noah awoke from sleep and knew what had happened. He said to his sons: “You shall be the fathers of nations. Your sons, Ham, will be known as Canaan. Cursed be Canaan! A servant of servants shall your sons be to the sons of your brothers.

  “May the Lord bless Shem, and let Canaan be his servants.

  “And you, Japheth, your tribe shall increase, and Canaan be your servants, also.”

  And all that Noah told his sons came to pass. For the sons of Ham were the Canaanites, who settled a fertile crescent of land on the eastern edge of the Inner Sea. And long, long after the Flood a son was born of the tribe of Shem. His name was Abraham and he fathered a mighty nation that conquered the Canaanites.

  God kept his covenant. He never again sent a flood of that kind. Still today after a storm we can sometimes see the colors of the rainbow arching across the sky.

  THE TOWER OF BABEL

  AFTER THE FLOOD THE sons of Noah had many sons and daughters, who bred many children and multitudes of grandchildren. The families became tribes. The tribes increased, and spread out from the plain beneath Ararat to other places. But all tribes of earth spoke one language.

  One tribe, rich in flocks, went far in search of grazing lands and came to a plain of grass called Shinar. This great meadow was cut by a river swarming with fish. The river was remarkable, too, for the clay of its banks and the way its mud hardened in the sun.

  The chief of the tribe was Nimrod, Ham’s grandson, a mighty hunter and a fearsome warrior. He called his elders together.

  “We are meant to be a great people!” he cried. “We must build a monument to our wonderful selves that will last for all time and be admired by all mankind. A tower it must be, high enough to pierce the heavens.”

  The people took clay from the river, and mixed mortar and piled brick on brick, building a tower. Through the seasons they labored upon it. It grew so tall it could be seen for great distances and struck wonder in the heart of the beholder. Men were drawn to the site from distant places and helped in the labor, for they, too, wanted to climb into the sky. The tower grew taller and taller. As high as a mountain it stood and higher still.

  God looked down and saw what was happening. He was not pleased. “They are puffed up with pride,” He said, “each man thinking himself a god, too good to live upon earth. They build toward the sky, neglecting all else.”

  As He watched the tower grew higher.

  “This temple of vanity must fall,” said God. “How shall I do it? Shake the earth and level their tower like a boy kicking an anthill? No. Their wits are so dulled by conceit that they will think the earth shakes of itself wi
th no design, and they will learn nothing from disaster. A storm of wind? A tidal wave? These will serve no purpose, either. The tower will fall, but no lesson will be learned. Shall I wipe man’s bold mouth of speech? No. For the word is the sign of my spirit dwelling within his animal flesh. If I take man’s speech I take his manhood. Nevertheless, I must quench his arrogance.”

  He summoned His angels and told them what to do. They went down upon earth to the plain of Shinar where the tower was growing, and went from tent to tent confounding language. Invisibly the angels passed among the men, twisting the tongue of each tribe into a different mode of speech. The words of each man’s neighbor became strange to his ears, nor could he make his own words understood. The work of building fell into confusion. The tribes grew suspicious of one another. Some tribes went to war; others scattered.

  The river choked on its own silt and ran dry. The place became a desert. The tower crumbled and fell to ruins.

  At the time language was confounded each man heard his neighbor say “Ba, ba, ba,” and so the place was call Babel.

  But God did not wish His act to become a curse. He gave each tribe’s language a special sense and a special music—so that each loved its own language and was proud of its own mode of speech.

  In the wars that followed Babel, the tribe of Nimrod vanquished the others and grew into a mighty nation. They spread northward from Shinar along the river—which was the Tigris—and built a vast walled city. The people called their city Babylon after the fallen tower, for they wanted to show that courage can turn failure into triumph.

  The Babylonians prospered. Their armies marched north, east, and south, conquering everywhere. The nation became an empire.