Noah (2:48)

If you don't weep at their suffering, you'd know better than them.

Narrator/Storyteller (2:54)

Outside, the skies wept and the earth quivered. God's wrath poured forth, but it did not please him. He. He sent the flood with regret and sorrow. The waters prevailed over the earth and the sea swallowed every creature given the breath of life. Darkness. Noah remained huddled beside the window, the ark rocking to the tempest outside. Noah was certain it was midday, but there was no way of confirming it. The sun's warmth hadn't graced their faces in weeks. Noah's countenance was gaunt, his eyes unfocused and glazed over with sorrow. His mind swirled like the charcoal clouds above. Noah was tired but couldn't close his eyes. Every time he did, he saw the faces of the damned floating atop the waters. Emzara stepped lightly through the opening of their room. She held a wax candle. The tiny flame twitched to and fro, casting shadows against the wooden walls of the ark. The faint light revealed her concerned face. Her husband had barely spoken since the walls shut. Have you eaten? Noah shook his head. His stomach knotted, not only from guilt, but also from the relentless swaying of the boat. Emzara knelt beside him, her fingers gently stroking his matted hair. She too felt the weight of survival, though her guilt was different. She did not share Noah's anguish, but felt relief that they were spared. Her husband's heart, however, was tethered to the Creator's sorrow. She reached for his hand, placing a barley loaf in his palm, and kissed his forehead.

Narrator/Host (4:50)

Eat. Or else we will have to witness another death.

Narrator/Storyteller (4:55)

Noah tore a small piece of the loaf and rolled it in, his fingers toying with the idea of eating. The white noise of rain was a constant murmur, muting his low pitched voice.

Noah (5:07)

Do you think I'm ungrateful?

Narrator/Storyteller (5:09)

Hemsara sighed, resting her head against his shoulder.

Narrator/Host (5:14)

I remember you telling our boys the stories of old by the fire, the story of the garden and the banishment. I remember you repeatedly reminding them that the Creator was merciful even in his wrath.

Noah (5:32)

Merciful in his wrath.

Narrator/Storyteller (5:36)

Searching for words that might reach him, Noah repeated the words, heavy and foreign in the damp wooden tomb he found himself in. He sighed, allowing the small piece of bread to pass his lips, chewing slowly, each bite a struggle against his sorrow. He laid his head on Emzara's chest, her humming a soft lullaby against the storm. Slowly and sloppily, Noah began to fall asleep. Remember me.

Noah (6:08)

Remember my family and the animals with me. Do not. Do not forsake us in this tomb.

Narrator/Storyteller (6:19)

As Noah's breathing finally steadied, the rain stopped. For 40 days, the heavens had wept, but finally, mercifully, they ceased. Emzara felt a weight release from her chest. She thought about waking Noah, but chose not to, instead laying his head gently on a bed made of wool and hay. The ark rocked gently, the low purrs of wildcats and braying of horses filling the space where the reins once sang. God hadn't forgotten Noah. The Creator remembered him and all the beasts within the ark. The breath of God. The ruach blew mightily over the waters. The winds churned spreading the seas in each direction. The voice of the Creator tamed the dark and chaotic abyss. Noah looked out with his sons. The heavens had closed and ceased their churning. A rumbling could be felt from below, and the fountains of the deep had closed. Shem peered out at the horizon, straining to see any sign of land. The wind cut at his cheeks and his eyes began to water. I don't see anything yet. How long will it take for the waters to recede?

Ham (7:40)

Not sure how much longer I can endure the smell.

Noah (7:44)

Patience, boys. God has not forgotten us. Listen closely. The wind of God is moving on our behalf.

Narrator/Storyteller (7:53)

Do you think there's anything on the horizon?

Noah (7:56)

There's a way to find out.

Narrator/Storyteller (7:58)

Noah captured a raven from within the ark and brought it to the others. He petted its feathers and held it up to the window.

Noah (8:06)

Birds gather twigs, leaves and other things for their nests. If there's any land, this raven will return with something. For a maybe.

Ham (8:18)

It will return a fig for me. Nothing but stale barley loaves has my stomach in knots.

Narrator/Storyteller (8:24)

Noah released the raven and watched it recede into the horizon. The raven carried Noah's anxiety on its wings. He knew better than to put all his hope in the raven. But curiosity gripped him still. Days passed into weeks, and still the raven hadn't returned. Noah's face twitched with irritation.

Noah (8:48)

I should have known better than to use a raven.

Narrator/Storyteller (8:51)

Noah had a dove in his hands. He gently stroked its white feathers with his thumbs. With a sigh and a prayer, he released it into the air.

Noah (9:02)

Why is a dove better than a raven? Ravens are scavengers. The bird is likely feasting off the carcasses flying floating atop the waters. No, it's too fat to fly back. The raven is comfortable with death. It will make its home somewhere on the floating carnage and never return. But the dove is a clean animal. It won't make its nest among death and despair. It will return to us.

Narrator/Storyteller (9:35)

Noah remained at the window for hours, staring earnestly at the water. The faint echoes of screams still tortured his mind. He wasn't sure he even wanted to go back onto dry land. Noah was old and unsure if he was capable of a fresh start. Before Noah's mind could spiral even further, he heard the faint sound of the dove returning. It perched atop his finger. It hadn't found land, at least nothing inhabitable for it to rest its wings. Noah petted its feathers and retreated into the ark to feed it. Another week passed, and it was time again for Noah to send the dove out. It flew gracefully over the familiar waters, wings shimmering in the light of dawn, after hours of waiting, Noah's eyes widened to see the dove's return. In its mouth was a freshly plucked olive leaf. Noah took the leaf and cradled it in his palm. He stroked its smooth green surface. His face quivered with relief. The waters were receding. They would walk the earth again. The dove was sent out again and hadn't returned. Confident that the land was near ready, Noah removed the top covering of the ark. It had settled on the mountains of Ararat. The sun shined brilliantly, revealing a land reborn. Noah's family leaned over, beholding the beautiful landscape teeming with vibrant colors. They wafted in the crisp air, smelling the damp earth mixed with fruit trees. Emzara squeezed her husband's arm.

Narrator/Host (11:28)

Look, Noah. Our new home.

Narrator/Storyteller (11:31)

Shem, Ham, and Japheth ran to the ark's entrance and released the ropes, keeping doors shut. The fresh air blew against their cheery faces. The three brothers helped their wives, giddy to step out of the ark and into their future. Still, Noah wouldn't permit them to leave the ark. He stood at the threshold, waiting. His eyes were nervous and his hands shook. Noah refused to embark on the adventure. He pensively stood frozen to the ark. Nearly a year after they entered the ark, the Creator spoke to Noah, prompting him to leave. He could hear his voice deep within his heart. His voice was like a steady stream.

God/Creator (12:18)

Go out from the ark, Noah. Take your wife, your sons, their wives, and every living thing that dwells with you. Swarm the earth, Noah. Fill it. Be fruitful and multiply.

Narrator/Storyteller (12:35)

Noah took the first step forward. His family waited with bated breath as he slowly, steadily and somberly descended the ramp. A patch of grass was at the bottom. Noah placed a bare foot on the wet earth. The chill sent a shiver up his spine. A sigh of relief followed. He turned to his family and gave them a reassuring smile. They ran like children and skipped across the meadow. The animals followed, scampering, padding, slithering and galloping. The hills were alive. The animals didn't look back. They spread across the earth, stretching as far as the eye could see. Noah's eyes glistened with tears. Tears of relief, joy, and sadness. He ascended a jagged path that led to an overhang, looking out at the ark. There he made an altar of wet stones and sacrificed to his God. The offering burned bright, a beacon signaling a new beginning. The smoke billowed upward, mixing with the clouds. The Creator breathed in the offering like a leasing aroma. Noah watched the light play off the mist. Across the sky, brilliant lights began to form. Everyone watched in Awe. As the colors arched against the blue backdrop, Noah's heart swelled within. He could sense the heart of God.

God/Creator (14:14)

I will never again curse the ground because of man, for I know his heart is corrupt from his youth. Neither will I strike down these creatures again. The long winter is over, while the Earth remains seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.

Narrator/Storyteller (14:41)

Noah gathered his family and relayed everything he could hear from the Creator's heart. God spoke to him, within him and about him. Each word was a balm to his aching heart.

God/Creator (14:54)

Be fruitful and multiply. Fill the earth as I have commanded since the days of old. Once again you have dominion. The beasts of the Earth will fear you. The birds of the air and the creatures of the deep will flee in dread because of you. Into your hands I give them. They shall be food for you, as are the plants of the Earth. I have given you everything, yet even so, my eyes are on the lower creatures. You shall not deal with them cruelly, nor shall you eat flesh with its lifeblood. Life is precious. And for your lives, I will require a reckoning. The life of all beasts and men will end. And to those who take life on their own, shedding the blood of their fellow man, I will require a reckoning. Whoever sheds the blood of a man by man shall his blood be shed. For God made man in his image. Do not take life, multiply it, cultivate it, increase and roam the Earth. I have washed it clean for you.

Narrator/Storyteller (16:24)

The lights continued to form in the sky, slowly stretching across the clouds. Noah and his sons watched in awe, taking in the captivating dance of colors bowing over the sky. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple. Lights held together by some unseen thread.

God/Creator (16:45)

Behold, I establish my covenant with you and your offspring. After you, I make a promise to you and to all the creatures from the ark. I shall never again flood the Earth. As a sign of my covenant with you, I have set my bow in the cloud. When I bring the clouds over the Earth and the sun's light mingles with the mist of the sky, you shall see the bow and remember my covenant. The waters shall never destroy the Earth. When the bow is in the clouds, I will remember the everlasting covenant I have made with every living creature.

Narrator/Storyteller (17:27)

Noah's sons glowed with hope for the future. Emzara and the other wives watched from a distance, their eyes glistening with gratitude that the Earth was safe. Noah's jaw tightened. A rush of gratitude for the Creator came upon him. But in the back of his mind, whispers of torment Plagued him. Noah woke in a panic, sweat dripping down his chest and back. His entire body trembled, unable to steady. Emzara placed a gentle hand on his back. Noah's eyes were wild, haunted.

Narrator/Host (18:06)

Another nightmare.

Noah (18:08)

This time it was Shem, drowning outside the ark. He screamed for me. He begged me to let him in. But I couldn't do anything. Then the corpses of the Nephilim rose and dragged him to the bottom of the abyss.

Narrator/Host (18:23)

It was only a dream. Our son is safe, no doubt cradling his new child in his arms.

Noah (18:32)

Of course it was just a dream, but that doesn't make it any less real. Emzara, these images are seared into my mind. I've been branded by these memories.

Narrator/Host (18:45)

You act as though you're the one to have flooded the earth. How long will you hold onto this guilt?

Noah (18:53)

It isn't guilt that torments me. It's knowing that evil still exists out there, in here, in each of us. We were spared from the flood, but that doesn't mean we're innocent.

Narrator/Storyteller (19:09)

Noah stormed out, flustered and quivering. The moonlight bathed the landscape in a pale, ethereal glow as he descended the hills to the vineyard he had planted. Beside it were cisterns hewn from stone and wood, filled with fermented wine. Noah drew some in a bowl. The liquid was a deep crimson, perfect to drink. His eyes glazed over with desire as he placed the cup to his lips and drank, seeking to wash away the sorrow, the hurt, the guilt, the fear. The cup was his flood, drowning out the anguish within him. Cup after cup, Noah drank away his sorrows. Yet it only numbed the pain. Wine would never ease what only God could heal. It silenced the screams in his head, but gave way to different sounds. Drunk and alone, Noah howled at the moon. He thrashed his arms and punched his fist. Fists in the air, he shouted vulgarities, cried and wailed into the empty night. His youngest son, Han, watched from a distance, disdain etched on his face as he witnessed his father's shameful display.

Ham (20:29)

Righteous Noah, the one who walks with God.

Narrator/Storyteller (20:34)

The air was humid and thick. Noah removed his clothes and skulked through the vineyard. Naked. Noah kicked the dirt and thrashed at branches, murmuring and burping his way back to his tent. He was a sad and shameful sight, but Ham passed in his father's shame.

Ham (20:56)

The fool can barely stand.

Narrator/Storyteller (20:59)

Ham leaped off the stone he was sitting on and gingerly followed his father, Noah, swift sway to and fro, barely keeping his naked frame upright. Ham danced around him.

Ham (21:11)

Ah, so this is what it means to walk with God. Hey, Father. What happened to all that honor you preached to me? Here, let me help you.

Narrator/Storyteller (21:25)

Ham reached out his arms. Noah fell forward, expecting to be caught. But instead, Ham moved and Noah fell face first into the dirt. Noah groaned and turned on his back. The world was spinning. He could feel the gravel grinding against his back and buttocks. Ham stood above him, face beaming with amusement. Noah, unable to speak, began crawling back to his tent. The first signs of dawn crept over the horizon. Emzara was already gone, attending to her grandchildren. As the sun rose, Ham stood outside his father's tent, waiting for his brothers. Shem and Japheth approached, their tools clinking softly in the cool morning air. Ham waved them down, a theatrical air about him.

Ham (22:19)

Brethren, I have a rare sight for you to behold.

Noah (22:23)

What is it now, Ham?

Ham (22:24)

I present to you the honorable, the stoic and the righteous Noah. Naked and sleeping in his own vomit.

Narrator/Storyteller (22:35)

Ham grabbed the opening flap of the tent to reveal his naked father. But the brothers stopped him before they could catch a glimpse.

Noah (22:43)

Ham, you've gone too far.

Ham (22:47)

What? After all the preaching and lecturing that man has given me, why not revel a little in his hypocrisy?

God/Creator (22:54)

Hem?

Noah (22:55)

You've disgraced our father.

Ham (22:58)

You too, Shem.

Narrator/Host (23:00)

Come on.

Ham (23:01)

We've all been through a living nightmare. Why not have a little fun with him?

Narrator/Storyteller (23:06)

What do you mean, fun?

Ham (23:08)

I don't know. Maybe we could.

Narrator/Storyteller (23:10)

Ham was interrupted by a stirring within the tent. Noah exhaled a befuddled and dreamy moan.

God/Creator (23:17)

Japheth, go get father's clothes from the vineyard.

Narrator/Storyteller (23:20)

Ham, I suggest you leave. Go jump in the stream.

God/Creator (23:25)

Clearly you need to cool off.

Narrator/Storyteller (23:28)

Ham snarled and left, kicking the dirt on his way back to his tent. Japheth returned with the garment. The two older brothers walked backward into the tent with the garment on their shoulders. When they felt his body on their heels, they dropped it and covered him. They didn't want to shame him as their brother had. They crept out of the tent, pensive and afraid of what would happen to Ham when their father woke. Noah slept all day, drifting in and out of his wine induced stupor. His head throbbed, the world around him a fuzzy blur. But he remembered Ham's actions. He recalled the mocking laugh, the bruise on his jaw, a painful reminder of his son's betrayal. Emerging from his tent, Noah wrapped his garment tightly around his body and hobbled to the fire where his wife and son sat. Japheth and Shem's sons were also by the fire, while Ham's son Canaan was on his father's lap. Shem and Japheth looked up at him, empathy etched on their faces. But not Ham. A mocking smile played on his lips as Noah stood over the fire, the dancing flames illuminating his scowl. His voice, coarse and gravelly, broke the tense silence.

Noah (24:54)

Cursed be Canaan.

Narrator/Storyteller (24:56)

His tone was sharp and impassive. Ham's expression shifted from confusion to rage. He covered his son's ears and raised his voice.

Ham (25:06)

What did you just say to my son?

Noah (25:08)

Cursed be Canaan for what his father has done. He will be a servant to his brothers.

Narrator/Storyteller (25:15)

Ham stood, his chest puffed out in defiance.

Ham (25:19)

What do you think you're doing?

Noah (25:21)

Blessed be the Lord, the God of Shem. Canaan will be his servant.

Ham (25:27)

Shut up, old man.

Noah (25:30)

May God enlarge Japheth, my faithful son. He will dwell in the tents of Shem, but Canaan will be a slave to them all. Shut up. Cursed be your descendants. Ham.

Narrator/Storyteller (25:43)

Ham lunged to strike his father. Shem and Japheth got to him first. Ham's screams echoed down the hills. The children scurried to their mothers and Imzara rose to Noah's side. Leave here gladly. Thus continued the cycle of blessings and curses, faith and failure. The never ending pattern of sin and struggle didn't cease with the Flood. Men's sins stretched alongside Noah's descendants, but God's promises remained. His faithfulness wouldn't waver even in the face of human imperfection. The name Noah means rest. His name was a foreshadowing, a glimmer of hope that peace with God would one day be restored. This pray.com production is only made possible by our dedicated team of creative talents. Steve Cattina, Max Bard, Zach Schellewager and Ben Gammon are the executive producers of the Chosen People. Narrated by Paul Coltofianu. Characters are voiced by Jonathan Cotton, Aaron Salvato, Sarah Seltz, Mike Reagan, Stephen Ringwald, Sylvia zaradoc, Thomas Copeland Jr. Rosanna Pilcher and Mitch Leschinsky. Music by Andrew Morgan Smith. Written by Aaron Salvato, Bree Rosalie and Chris Baig. You can hear more prey.com productions on the prey.com app available on the Apple App Store and Google Play Store. If you enjoyed the chosen people, please rate and leave a review.

Narrator/Host (27:23)

This is an I Heart Podcast.