STORY OF THE WEEK: Navigating the Storm: Noah’s Ark and the Human Condition
Ancient lessons for modern people
Noah’s Ark…
The delightful Biblical story about how God wipes out the entire population of the world with a global flood. Everyone that is, except for Noah and his family who are apparently the only family on earth who are living acceptably righteous lives in the eyes of God.
Learning about Noah and his Ark was one of my earliest memories growing up in the church. For some reason this troubling tale of God’s wrath upon the entirety of the human race was deemed a suitable narrative to teach impressionable young minds as their first lesson about the… ummm… goodness of our loving God.
The story goes that God has regrets about creating human beings because they are just so sinful. So, he tells Noah to build a boat to save his family (the only good people left on earth apparently), and at least two of every other non-human creature on the planet.
And, as kids, we didn’t question the idea that every species on earth could somehow fit inside a three-storey, 130-meter-long, wooden boat built by hand in the Neolithic period (that’s a little after the Stone Age, folks).
Woolly mammoths anyone?
Thinking back, it’s a wonder we didn’t pepper our Sunday School teachers with questions like, “How did they stop the lions from eating the lambs?” or “Did Noah have to clean up all the elephant poop?” I guess when you’re six years old, you tend to believe pretty much everything that is told to you, particularly when it comes to matters of faith.
Yes, we were taught that Noah’s Ark was a literal, historic event. Granted, there is a recurring “flood narrative” in many belief systems, not just the Christian one. It’s a motif that appears in various cultures and religions worldwide.
In ancient Mesopotamia, for example, the Epic of Gilgamesh tells the story of Utnapishtim, who builds a massive boat to escape the wrath of the gods and save humanity from a flood. It’s like Noah’s Ark, but with a bit more epic heroism and a side of ancient Sumerian flair.
Meanwhile in the USA, Native American tribes have their own flood stories. The Hopi people of North America recount the tale of the Great Flood, where a virtuous few are saved on the back of a giant turtle, while the rest of the world is submerged beneath the waters.
Even in Hindu mythology, there’s the story of Manu, who is warned by the god Vishnu of an impending flood. Like Noah, Manu builds a boat and saves the world’s creatures from destruction.
Wherever you look, stories of catastrophic floods abound. Does that mean it really happened?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
And, as it turns out, it doesn’t really matter if you believe in a literal historic “Great Flood” as described in the Bible.
Why not?
Because the real value of the Bible is found in its ability to teach us about ourselves and how we relate to each other and God. In fact, I happen to believe that even if you’re not a believer, the Bible has value when we learn to interpret it archetypally more than we interpret it literally.
Viewing the Bible Archetypally
Taking an archetypal view means examining the Bible’s characters, stories, and themes as representations of universal patterns and symbols that resonate with the human condition across cultures and time periods. Instead of just seeing the narratives as literal historical accounts or religious teachings, I’m exploring them as reflections of fundamental human experiences and emotions.
In this approach, figures like Adam and Eve, Moses, Jonah, and others become symbols of broader concepts such as innocence, liberation, struggle, sacrifice, and redemption. Their stories serve as allegories for the trials, triumphs, and complexities of human existence.
I’ve decided that maybe each of the characters in the Biblical narrative has something to teach us about what it means to be human. In fact, if you’re able to move past those mind-numbing debates about whether this story or that story in the Bible happened exactly as written, I think you’ll find yourself in virtually every single character. Not only that, but you’ll encounter the collective struggles of human beings and the timeless quest for meaning and purpose.
I started my journey with Adam and Eve, which you can read about here. Then, I wrote about Adam and Eve’s messed up kids, Cain and Abel, which you can read about here. Now, I’m taking a look at Noah and his family because well… there is a little bit of Noah in all of us.
Yes, even you.
Let me explain.
Noah’s Ark and You
If you want to read the full Biblical narrative of Noah’s, then go and check out Genesis 6–9. Otherwise, here’s a summary:
God, observing the wickedness of humanity, decides to hit the reset button with a global flood. But amidst the chaos, there’s one righteous man: Noah. God instructs Noah to build an ark — a massive, three-story vessel — to save himself, his family, and representatives of every land-dwelling animal species from the impending deluge.
Noah, constructs the ark according to God’s specifications. Then, as the rain pours down and the floodwaters rise, Noah and his family, along with the animals, seek refuge inside the ark. For forty days and nights, they ride out the storm.
Finally, as the waters recede, Noah sends out a dove to search for dry land. When it returns with an olive branch, signaling the end of the flood, Noah knows that it’s safe to disembark. Stepping onto solid ground once more, Noah and his family emerge from the ark, greeted by a rainbow — a symbol of God’s covenant never to destroy the earth again with a flood.
After the floodwaters recede and Noah and his family emerge from the ark, we encounter a lesser known, and less savory episode involving Noah’s son, Ham, and a regrettable incident of drunkenness on Noah’s part.
In a moment of vulnerability or perhaps hubris, Noah indulges in too much wine and becomes intoxicated. In his inebriated state, he lies naked in his tent, unaware of the consequences of his actions. When Ham stumbles upon his father’s indiscretion, he mocks Noah.
Noah’s other sons, Shem and Japheth, respond differently. They cover their father’s nakedness, walking backward so as not to see him in his shame, and respectfully shield him from further embarrassment.
You didn’t know about that last bit, did you?
As I revisit this childhood story as an adult, I’m starting to see it in a different light. Instead of wondering how the heck Noah crammed millions of animals into an ark, I’m starting to appreciate the deeper symbolism and timeless lessons embedded within the narrative. Perhaps Noah’s Ark isn’t just about a miraculous rescue mission involving a boat and a bunch of animals. Maybe it’s more about understanding, archetypally, the messy, complicated nature of being human, and especially being part of a family.
Here is where the story meets us.
The Flawed Hero
I kind of wish the story of Noah ended with him gloriously stepping out of the ark onto a sun-drenched field, his hair waving wistfully in the breeze an air of triumph surrounding him. It would have been neat and tidy, a fitting conclusion to a tale of divine intervention and human perseverance.
Yet, Noah goes from saving humankind to finding himself naked and in a drunken stupor, just to remind us of his humanness, and also of ours.
Noah is the archetypal flawed hero —an individual who strives to do good and fulfil his divine purpose, but who struggles with human weaknesses, temptations and shortcomings along the way.
And who can’t relate to that story?
In every sense, Noah is you and me. He embodies the universal struggle to reconcile our aspirations with our imperfections, our ideals with our realities, our values with our behavior. Everyone one of us is capable of incredible moments of greatness, and incredible moments of failure.
Consider your own life. Recall your proudest achievement, the moment when you felt invincible, unstoppable. Now, juxtapose it with your most profound failure, the moment when you felt humiliated, dehumanized or utterly defeated.
Now you are Noah.
The Ignored
There is one character who walks with Noah side by side, toiling away in the background. Yet, despite her crucial role in supporting Noah, she remains completely nameless in the Biblical story.
I’m talking about Noah’s wife.
While much attention is given to Noah and his sons in the narrative, Noah’s wife is mentioned sparingly and her voice is largely absent from the story. She is overshadowed by the male figures in the tale. Noah’s wife embodies the archetype of the ignored — the individual whose contributions and perspectives are often overlooked or marginalized within the family or community.
As the ignored, Noah’s wife represents the countless women throughout history whose labor, sacrifices, and experiences have been minimized or disregarded.
Have you ever felt like you were a bit character in someone else’s hero’s tale? Overlooked? Left out? The one in your family who always seems to be
there to support others, but whose own achievements and contributions are often overlooked or undervalued?
If you have, you are Noah’s wife.
The Flood Waters
Whether you believe in a literal “Great Flood” or not, you most certainly understand, from an archetypal perspective, the reality of the “Great Floods” in your own life.
Yes, flood waters themselves represent the archetype of chaos and purification — the primordial forces of destruction and renewal that wash away the old to make way for the new. The flood symbolizes the cyclical nature of life and the transformative power of adversity.
Order, disorder, then re-order… over and over again.
Think about the “Great Flood” moments in your own life and no doubt you will conclude that these floods may take many forms — the death of a loved one, a betrayal, a failure — but their essence remains the same. They sweep away the certainty of solid ground and force us to confront the unknown.
The Black Sheep
We are all familiar with the archetype of the black sheep. They are the odd one out — the one who stands apart from the rest of the family or community because they are just a little bit different. The black sheep often march to the beat of their own drum, refusing to conform to societal norms or expectations. They may be seen as rebellious, eccentric, or even troubled.
Maybe you are the black sheep of your family?
There are no prizes for guessing who the black sheep in Noah’s family was. No doubt, it was Ham. His actions, notably his disrespectful behavior towards his father, mark him as the outlier among his brothers.
When Noah came around after his binge drinking episode, he was so incensed by Ham’s behavior that he cursed him and his descendants. Imagine that? Now, Ham carries the weight of disapproval and judgment from the man from whom he most desires approval and blessing.
Is seems harsh, considering it was Noah who messed up in the first place. It doesn’t seem fair, because it isn’t. Ham’s action and Noah’s reaction leads to a rift within the family — a rift that tragically continues for generations. It’s a cautionary tale, a reminder of the power of our words and actions to shape our own destinies and those of others.
If you’ve ever felt like the black sheep, if you’ve ever felt unfairly cast aside by the person from whom you most desired affirmation, then you are Ham.
The Enabler
If Ham is the archetypal black sheep of his family, then his brothers, Shem and Japheth embody the archetype of the enabler — the individuals who make excuses for or justify the problematic behavior of a loved one, often out of a sense of loyalty or a desire to maintain harmony within the family.
Their decision to cover their father’s nakedness and shield him from further embarrassment reflects their reluctance to confront or challenge Noah’s actions directly. Instead of holding Noah accountable for his drunkenness, they choose to protect his dignity and preserve the family’s reputation. In doing so, they enable Noah to avoid facing the consequences of his behavior and perpetuate a cycle of denial and avoidance.
I wonder if you can relate to this in your own family? Have you tolerated abhorrent or even abusive behavior out of loyalty or a desire to keep the peace? Perhaps you’ve found yourself making excuses for a loved one’s actions, rationalizing their behavior in order to maintain a sense of familial harmony. Or perhaps another member of your family who is the enabler. It’s a difficult position to be in, torn between loyalty to those we care about and the need to address unacceptable behavior.
It you’ve ever wrestled with this, then you are Shem and Japheth.
A Story for Every Soul
What is most remarkable about all of these terrible humans is that, somehow, they seem perfectly okay to God, who chooses them and uses them to be the first family of “Human Race 2.0.”
Go figure.
It seems that dysfunctional families are as old as families themselves. And through the story of Noah and his family, we get a window into the world of an ancient family with some timeless issues.
In fact, we find echoes of our own experiences — that feeling of ecstasy and agony, moments of triumph followed by humiliating failures, rising and falling on the crests of waves.
The flood.
We discover the pain of being overlooked, of not fitting in, of being rejected by the ones who should have loved us most, and the need to justify and defend the actions of those we care about.
Yet, at the end of the story, we are offered a symbol of hope — the rainbow. It is the archetypal promise of renewal and the beauty that can emerge from even the darkest storms. It’s a reminder that no matter how wild our journeys may be, there is always the possibility of redemption and transformation.
A possibility, yes… but not a guarantee.
In Noah’s family, we see our own. I am Noah. I am Noah’s wife and his three sons, Shem, Ham and Japheth.
And so are you.
Beautifully broken. Flawed heroes. Somehow, still loved by God.