While the Torah speaks about God, its central lessons are often about human conduct, teaching us to imitate Divine mercy in our own judgments and interactions. This is in large part because we cannot comprehend what God is, only what God does.
One of Judaism’s most fundamental beliefs is that we can change through the ability to repent and make amends – Teshuva – which presupposes that, to some extent, God can also change. While this may sound absurd at first, it’s quite benign. We believe that with prayer, repentance, and charity, God might act with compassionate mercy in lieu of strict justice.
If we consider how God reframes strict judgment in response to human flaws, we might find a powerful model for handling our own relationships and conflicts with greater compassion.
The Torah’s stated cause for the great Flood was a human tendency towards evil:
וַיַּרְא ה, כִּי רַבָּה רָעַת הָאָדָם בָּאָרֶץ, וְכָל-יֵצֶר מַחְשְׁבֹת לִבּוֹ, רַק רַע כָּל-הַיּוֹם – Hashem saw the great evil of humans on Earth, and that every imagination of his heart’s intent was only ever evil. (6:5)
After the great Flood, God laments the destruction and devastation, and resolves not destroy life ever again:
וַיֹּאמֶר ה אֶל-לִבּוֹ לֹא-אֹסִף לְקַלֵּל עוֹד אֶת-הָאֲדָמָה בַּעֲבוּר הָאָדָם, כִּי יֵצֶר לֵב הָאָדָם רַע מִנְּעֻרָיו; וְלֹא-אֹסִף עוֹד לְהַכּוֹת אֶת-כָּל-חַי, כַּאֲשֶׁר עָשִׂיתִי – Hashem said in His heart: “I will not curse the ground again for humanity’s sake; because the imagination of man’s heart is evil from his youth; neither will I again smite any more every living thing, as I have just done.” (8:21)
What changed between the beginning and end of the Flood?
Quite remarkably, it appears that nothing about human nature changed after the Flood; humanity was and remains flawed – יֵצֶר מַחְשְׁבֹת לִבּוֹ, רַק רַע כָּל-הַיּוֹם / כִּי יֵצֶר לֵב הָאָדָם רַע מִנְּעֻרָיו. But significantly, God’s own perspective shifts, suggesting that mercy does not require an external change but an internal choice to reframe the same reality differently.
This non-change also happens when the Jewish People misguidedly craft the Golden Calf, upon which God states He can no longer tolerate their obstinate rigidity:
כִּי לֹא אֶעֱלֶה בְּקִרְבְּךָ, כִּי עַם-קְשֵׁה-עֹרֶף אַתָּה פֶּן-אֲכֶלְךָ בַּדָּרֶךְ – “I will not go up with you; because you are a stiff-necked people; otherwise I might destroy you on the way!” (33:3)
Yet Moshe appeals for God’s compassion and mercy based on that very same characteristic:
וַיֹּאמֶר אִם-נָא מָצָאתִי חֵן בְּעֵינֶיךָ, אֲדֹנָי, יֵלֶךְ-נָא אֲדֹנָי, בְּקִרְבֵּנוּ: כִּי עַם-קְשֵׁה-עֹרֶף הוּא, וְסָלַחְתָּ לַעֲוֹנֵנוּ וּלְחַטָּאתֵנוּ וּנְחַלְתָּנוּ – And he said: “If I have found favor in your sight, Hashem, please go in our midst; because this is a stiff-necked people; and forgive our error and sin, and take us as Your inheritance.” (34:9)
While we cannot know God as God is, we come closer by imitating with mercy in action. In both instances, humans do not earn forgiveness through Teshuva, because they have not changed. We are prone to error and don’t always learn from our mistakes.
In the story of Noach, the Torah does something extremely unusual narrates God’s thought process – וַיֹּאמֶר ה אֶל-לִבּוֹ. This soliloquy serves as a reminder that mercy begins with self-reflection; by engaging in our own inner dialogues, we can choose to shift from judgment to compassion, reinterpreting others’ actions with understanding rather than critique.
We can’t change other people. Sometimes they won’t ever make amends and won’t fix what they broke. But we can still change the lens we use to scrutinize them. In today’s culture of instant feedback and snap judgment with swipes and taps, it’s easy to fall into a cycle of harsh judgment without considering the other’s humanity. Our capacity to exercise compassionate mercy can help us resist dismissing others as irredeemable and instead view their actions with hope for growth.
In the same way that God can choose to judge favorably out of a commitment to life, we can do the same.
God reframes expectations and judgments, and we can approach others’ flaws in the same way, with a commitment to mercy rather than strict judgment.
The same flaws we condemn can be the very reason to forgive.