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Noah’s Ark was massive. In fact, it took 120 years to build. Most construction details are left unmentioned, yet one receives particular attention. “Make a window (tzohar) for the ark” (Bereishit 6:16). Rashi (1040–1105, France) offers two explanations of the tzohar: a window or a precious stone that provided light.
Why does this detail deserve such attention? How could one small window or precious stone illuminate all three floors of a massive ark with individual compartments for the animals? Presumably, Noah installed oil lamps throughout the ark. Yet our focus is on the importance of one window.
On an even more practical level, what use was a window when there was no light outside? Rashi (8:22) notes that day and night ceased during the flood. The sky was obscured and black. Why build a window in a place that has no light to begin with? How could a window have helped?
As the world was destroyed, Noah and his family floated aimlessly on a vast, stormy sea, with no way to steer. Within that enormous ark was a window that stayed dark for forty days. Yet Noah would remain aboard for more than a year, and the window held a promise: light would shine through again. Its message was to keep looking for light, even when none was visible, and to hold on to faith until it returned.
In Man’s Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl recalls an evening during his imprisonment in a Nazi concentration camp when a fellow prisoner summoned the exhausted men outside to see a magnificent sunset. They stood silently before the glowing sky. Finally, one prisoner said: “How beautiful the world could be!” The prisoner who called them outside became a window for the others. Having noticed a little light, he helped them see it too. This was G-d’s message to Noah.
Sometimes we look outside and see only darkness, and we need to draw on the light within us, like the luminous stone that shone when no light entered from outside. Even as we hold on to the faith that light will return, we can bring hope, kindness, and encouragement into the lives of others. Rashi’s two interpretations give us images of both experiences: the window reminds us to remain open to the light we receive, while the stone reminds us of the light we have to share.
Jewish tradition describes windows through which we receive light and windows through which light shines outward. When King Solomon built his Temple, “He made windows narrow and broad” (Kings I 6:4). Their openings were narrow inside and widened at an angle toward the outside to bring light into the world (Rashi, Menachot 86b). We can receive light, but the ultimate goal is to project it outward.
In the language of Kabbalah, there is sometimes an awakening from above, itaruta d’le’eila, and sometimes an awakening from below, itaruta d’letata. Sometimes light reaches us from above, and sometimes the awakening must begin within us. Sometimes we need a smile. Sometimes we have to smile first.
May we never stop looking for light, and may we discover and share the G-d-given light within us all.
Shabbat Shalom.
Rabbi Daniel Green
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