“And, behold, I will bring the flood of waters upon the earth, to destroy all flesh, in which there is a breath of life from under the heavens; and everything that is on the earth shall die.” (Bereishis 6:17)

The Zohar reveals that the deeper meaning of this verse lies in the haftara “Mei Noach Zos Li” (the waters of Noach, alluding to the flood). Interestingly, this implies that Noach was to blame for the flood. Why? Because he should have prayed for the wellbeing of his generation, just as Avraham interceded for the people of Sodom. In failing to do so, Noach is held accountable – as if he himself caused the flood.

This idea requires explanation. If the people truly deserved to be destroyed, how could Noach’s prayers help alter their fate? To understand this, we must examine the purpose of prayer in general, and with that understanding, we may find an answer.

Rav Shraga Grossbard explains that punishment from Hashem is not merely retribution, rather it is a tool for rehabilitation. The punishment itself reshapes a person, drawing them closer to growth and repair. Contrast this with verdicts of a secular court, which either seek vengeance for a crime, or deterrence against further infractions of the law. Prayer doesn’t just push off a decree, rather it invites internal transformation. As the Maharal explains the words we say on Rosh Hashanah, “UTeshuva, Utefillah, Utzedakah…” – repentance, prayer, and charity each refine us to a degree that we are no longer those upon whom the bad decree was issued. Therefore, the punishment is no longer needed.

The same transformative power of tefilla can even effect changes in others. Had Noach prayed for the people in his generation, he would have elevated them to a level where the decree would be irrelevant.

As we go into the winter and the lingering euphoria of the yomim noraim fades in our memories, this lesson shows the necessity to strengthen ourselves in our prayers. My Rosh Yeshiva in America once told me that he was asked by an irreligious man, “How could you recite the same prayers three times a day, each and every day?” He replied, “That is an excellent question, but it is irrelevant to us. Each day we pray for our current needs, and the situation that we find ourselves in at that moment.  As we and our lives are constantly changing, no two tefillos are ever identical.”

To me it is clear that the Rosh Yeshiva’s immediate response was borne out of his true connection to Hashem every time that he opened the siddur. Imagine if we felt that way as well – every time that we davened to Hashem, we would be elevated. The mere opportunity to stand before Hakadosh Baruch Hu, communicating with him who we are and what we aspire to, should invigorate us, making us better people.

May our tefillos be accepted by Hashem, igniting within us the transformations that will usher in the Geula Shleima, speedily in our days.