Rabbi Sam Trief
You know the old Lesley Gore song, “It’s My Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To”?
Well, this past weekend, I found myself living out that song in real life.
Our son Rafi turned eight last week. To celebrate, he had a joint movie night with his friend, inviting all the boys in their grade at school.
The plan was simple: an outdoor movie, pizza, popcorn, and candy.
And then the rain came.
Suddenly, our outdoor movie night needed a new home. And where does a rabbi turn when she needs a last-minute indoor space?
Naturally, Temple Sinai.
I will spare you all the details, but suffice it to say, things did not go according to plan. Rafi and his friend were disappointed, the logistics were stressful, and what was supposed to be a fun evening quickly became anything but.
I wish I could tell you that once we moved everything indoors, we relaxed and embraced the chaos.
But that wouldn’t be true.
We had a room full of energetic eight-year-old boys running around. There were legitimate concerns about safety and respecting our building. And so, while the kids were having fun, I spent much of the evening worrying about what might happen next.
Which brings me to this week’s Torah portion, Noach.
Of course, if there’s anyone in the Torah who knows what it means to have rain interfere with his plans, it’s Noah.
Although I’ll admit, his weather situation was considerably worse than mine.
When God tells Noah that a flood is coming, Noah is instructed to build an ark. He gathers his family, brings in the animals, and prepares for a storm unlike anything the world has ever seen.
And then the rain begins.
For forty days and forty nights, it pours. The world Noah knew disappeared beneath the water.
Now, I am certainly not comparing a rained-out movie night to the destruction of the world. But there is much to learn about having our plans disrupted by forces beyond our control, a lesson we all came to understand during the COVID pandemic.
Sometimes it rains. Sometimes the carefully organized schedule falls apart. Sometimes life has entirely different plans for us.
But what strikes me about Noah’s story is that God never tells him how to stop the rain.
God tells him to build an ark.
Noah isn’t given control over the storm. He’s given responsibility for what happens in the midst of it.
And I think that’s an important distinction.
When things don’t go according to plan, we’re often told to relax, go with the flow, and enjoy the moment.
But sometimes our worries are legitimate. Sometimes we really are responsible for keeping people safe, protecting something precious, or making sure our decisions don’t negatively affect others.
Noah couldn’t simply sit back and enjoy the rain. He had a family to protect, animals to care for, and an ark to maintain.
The lesson of Noah isn’t that we should stop worrying altogether, but that we need to recognize the difference between what we cannot control and what we are responsible for.
We can make thoughtful decisions, establish boundaries, and care for the people and places entrusted to us. And even in the midst of those responsibilities, we can try to leave a little room for joy.
When I think back on last Saturday night, I remember the stress. I remember worrying about the building, the safety of the kids, and whether the evening would ever end!
But I hope that when Rafi and his friend look back on it, despite their disappointment, they’ll remember something different.
They’ll probably remember the chaos, too. But hopefully they’ll also remember a wild night with their friends, eating pizza and popcorn, laughing, and making memories together.
Maybe part of being a parent, a leader, or simply a responsible adult is recognizing that sometimes we carry the worries so that others can experience the joy.
But we also have to be careful not to let those worries consume us completely.
Because sometimes we’re so busy worrying about the rain that we forget to notice what’s happening inside the ark.
The laughter. The friendships. The people who show up. The memories being made.
And there’s one more beautiful detail in Noah’s story.
Eventually, the rain stops. The waters recede. And Noah emerges from the ark into a world that is different from the one he left behind.
And there, in the sky, God places a rainbow.
Not a promise that it will never rain again, but a reminder that even after the storm, there is beauty to be found.
This Shabbat, I hope we can give ourselves a little grace when life doesn’t go according to plan.
Not every worry is unnecessary, and not every concern can be brushed aside. Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is step in, take responsibility, and protect what matters.
But we also need to remember that we cannot control every storm, nor can we guarantee that everything will unfold exactly as we imagined.
What we can do is build the best ark we can, care for those inside it, and make room for moments of joy, even amid the chaos.
Shabbat Shalom.
