Meeting G-d

I'm sorry. I had a nice, normal piece half-written. But when I woke up this morning, I couldn't do it. I walked out of my door, breathing deep, taking in the cold morning through my nose, and I thought, "Jews are crazy". Last week we start praying for rain, this week we read in the Torah about the flood that destroyed the world. A week and a half ago we completed the thoroughly sensual holiday of Sukkoth, waving branches, clutching sweet smelling fruit. Two days ago I trod across the soggy remains of the Yeshiva Sukka that had blown down in the wind. I guess transitions are an affirmation of life. Sukkoth stands upon the cusp. We leave our homes and live in booth, celebrating as the storm clouds roll in. The first day of rain I struggled out of bed, trying to remember where I had packed my boots as my nice black shoes turned into frozen blocks of mud. It's hard to be angry about rain when you live in a desert. Instead, I made a wish. I envisioned myself a tree, standing on the hill in front of my house, digging my feet into the ground, my toes growing long and deep, my skin drying into a thick leather, retreating into myself, losing my leaves, losing the sun, falling into a sleep like death just as the life-giving rains arrived. I thought of Noah, meeting G-d, loving G-d, a tzaddik walking in his ways. And G-d brought the rains, destroying his world. I could almost feel what Noah felt, each smack of every raindrop on his roof a nail in his heart, challenging him to believe. I opened my eyes, noting the gray light that struggled through the curtains, digging under the covers as I listen to the rain. G-d told Avraham that he would destroy the city of evil men, and Avraham argued. It was within the realm of reason, so Avraham felt that his belief obliged him to engage in discourse, to be a partner in creation. But when G-d told Avraham to kill the tzaddik, Yitzchak, he nodded his head and sharpened his knife. Avraham understood that when it is beyond reason, there is another kind of belief. G-d decided to destroy the evil in the world. Avraham would have surely spoken up, challenging G-d with reason. Noah remained silent embodying a different kind of belief. The natural, the normal, the logical, had become cruel. And with his belief he entered the ark and listened for the rain.