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What Does the Rainbow Really Mean? A Chassidic Perspective

A Necessary Disclaimer

Before diving into the real subject of this class, it’s worth addressing something that comes up again and again: the popular idea that the rainbow is a symbol of the Seven Noahide Laws, the universal commandments given to all of humanity through Noah.

Many well-meaning rabbis and teachers have made this connection — seven colors, seven laws, a neat and tidy parallel. But after extensive searching, and after consulting rabbis far more knowledgeable than myself, I have not found a single source — not in a Chassidic discourse, not in the words of the Rebbe, not in any early Kabbalistic text like the Zohar — that actually makes this link. Nobody I asked could point to where the idea originated.

There es a real connection between colors and the Kabbalistic concept of the sefirot (the Divine emanations), which we’ll touch on later. But that connection has nothing to do with the Seven Universal Laws. As far as I can tell, someone simply noticed that “seven” appears in both places and built a connection that isn’t actually there in the sources. People are welcome to enjoy that idea if it inspires them — but in my view, it simply doesn’t exist in the tradition.

So let’s set that aside and look at what the rainbow de hecho represents in Jewish thought.

The Story Behind the Sign

The context is well known: after the Flood, G-d made a covenant with Noah and, by extension, with every human being on earth — since all of humanity descends from him. G-d promised never again to destroy the entire world with a flood (which, notably, doesn’t rule out localized disasters like a tsunami — only a global, universal flood).

It’s important to understand what kind of promise this was. It wasn’t a conditional agreement — “you keep the laws, and I won’t flood the world.” If it were conditional, humanity would have long since broken the deal, since the majority of people throughout history have not kept these laws. Yet the world hasn’t been destroyed. Why? Because this was an unconditional, eternal commitment on G-d’s part, not a two-way contract. (On the point that the Noahide laws themselves are rooted in oral tradition rather than derived outright from the verses, see Rambam, Mishné Torá, Hilchot Melachim, end of ch. 8–ch. 9.)

As a sign of this covenant, G-d gave humanity the rainbow.

Was the Rainbow New, or Did It Always Exist?

This raises an interesting question our sages debated: if the rainbow was given as a new sign after the Flood, does that mean it didn’t exist before? There are several opinions, but let’s look at three.

Nachmanides (Ramban, Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, Spain, 1194–1270), in his commentary on Genesis 9:12, points out that the Torah’s language — “this is the sign that I have set” — could imply that the rainbow was newly created. However, Ramban explains that this is simply the natural result of sunlight interacting with moisture in the air (he attributes this scientific understanding to the Greeks, though of course he didn’t have the modern concept of light refracting through a prism). Since it’s a natural phenomenon, it must have existed since creation.

According to Ramban, G-d didn’t invent the rainbow after the Flood — He simply designated an already-existing natural phenomenon as the sign of His covenant.

The Kli Yakar (Rabbi Shlomo Ephraim Luntschitz, Prague, c. 1550–1619), in his commentary on Genesis, draws heavily on the earlier view of Rabbi Yitzchak Abarbanel (Spanish statesman and biblical commentator, 1437–1508, who chose exile with his fellow Jews at the 1492 expulsion rather than accept the crown’s offer to remain behind). Abarbanel, as cited by the Kli Yakar, explains that before the Flood, the atmosphere was so thick with vapor rising from the earth that sunlight simply couldn’t refract properly — the rainbow effect was physically impossible, like a prism that doesn’t work because it’s coated in fog. After the Flood, G-d purified and thinned the atmosphere, and only then did the conditions exist for a rainbow to actually appear.

Another view is worth noting for contrast: the Ibn Ezra (Rabbi Avraham ibn Ezra, 1089–1167), on this same verse, takes the opposite position — that the rainbow genuinely was a new feature of creation introduced after the Flood, not a pre-existing phenomenon newly designated.

Ramban and the Kli Yakar/Abarbanel line, despite their differences, agree on the key point: the rainbow wasn’t a brand-new invention. It was always latent in creation — it simply wasn’t visible or functional until conditions changed.

Two Kinds of Clouds

This brings us to a Chassidic maamar (discourse) from 1983 — building on earlier discourses in the same vein — that unpacks the deeper meaning behind all of this. The teaching begins by identifying two fundamentally different types of clouds — not meteorologically, but spiritually.

The first kind is a “good” cloud — concealment that exists in order to enable revelation. Think of a teacher trying to convey an advanced idea to a student who isn’t ready for it in its raw form. The teacher has to “cloud” the concept — wrap it in examples, simplify it, bring it down to the student’s level — precisely so the student puede understand it. (Tradition credits King Solomon with the ability to generate three thousand examples for a single concept, just to make sure the idea landed — see I Kings 5:12 on the scope of his wisdom.) Without that cloud, the idea would remain totally inaccessible. In the same way, when Moses entered the cloud on Mount Sinai to receive a lofty revelation (Exodus 24:18, at the close of Parshat Mishpatim), that cloud wasn’t blocking the light — it was making the light safe and possible to receive, the way protective glasses let you view a solar eclipse without being blinded by it.

The second kind is a “bad” cloud — concealment for its own sake, concealment that blocks rather than enables. Our sages use exactly this image for sin: transgressions are compared to clouds that hide the presence of G-d, as in Isaiah 44:22 — “I have wiped away your transgressions like a cloud” — a verse discussed at length in the Chassidic literature on repentance (notably in the Iggeret HaTeshuvá section of the Tanya). This isn’t a cloud that reveals something afterward — it’s just darkness.

The physical world mirrors the spiritual one. Before the Flood, the world was spiritually unrefined, and so its clouds — literal and figurative — were the “bad” kind: thick, opaque, and concealing. Sunlight still passed through them technically, and the physics of refraction still worked, but no rainbow could be seen. After the Flood, the world underwent a process of refinement, and the clouds became “good” clouds — lighter, more transparent, capable of revealing rather than hiding. That refinement is why the rainbow became visible.

This also reframes what the Flood itself was about. It wasn’t punishment for its own sake — that would be pointless. A parent doesn’t punish a child just to punish them; correction only makes sense when it leads somewhere, when the person comes out better and changed. The Flood was a process of purification, not retribution — which is echoed in the fact that it rained for exactly forty days, corresponding to the halachic measurement of a mikveh (ritual bath) used for spiritual purification.

The Rainbow as a Symbol of Teshuvah

So what does all of this — the water cycle, the clouds, the rainbow — actually represent for us?

The discourse explains that the entire system alludes to teshuvá — here translated specifically as repentance rather than “return,” since the generation of the Flood weren’t righteous people needing to reconnect on a deeper level; they were people who had done wrong and needed to correct course. (Interestingly, even the righteous can always do teshuvah in the sense of return — the Zohar states that in the era of Moshiach, even the perfectly righteous [tzadikim] will be brought to do teshuvah, understood not as correcting sin but as reaching a deeper connection with G-d, precisely because G-d is infinite and there’s always room to grow closer.)

The key detail is where the process starts. Clouds, in Torah thought, always begin from below: vapor rises from the earth, forms clouds, and eventually falls as rain — a cycle that flows upward first, then downward. This mirrors the essential nature of repentance: it has to originate from a nosotros. Yes, G-d sustains our very existence and gives us the strength to act at all — but once that life is given, the initiative to reconnect has to come from our own effort. G-d doesn’t awaken us to repentance from above; we have to move first, from below.

And when we do that inner work, something remarkable happens: the “bad” clouds — the concealment created by our own mistakes — are transformed into “good” clouds, clouds that reveal rather than hide. Repentance doesn’t just erase a wrongdoing; it converts the very obstruction it created into a vehicle for greater closeness with G-d.

Three Colors, Not Seven

Here’s where the popular seven-color rainbow myth breaks down for good. According to Torah sources, the rainbow reflects only three colors — white, red, and green (the modern idea of seven colors comes from Newton and modern optics, not from Torah tradition).

These three colors correspond to three inner dispositions or modes of relating: chesed (kindness), gevurah (severity or judgment), and tiferet, commonly translated as “mercy” but more precisely meaning beauty.(Zohar, Part 1, 18b)

To illustrate the difference between the first two, imagine a father who promises his son $100 if he scores an 8 out of 10 or higher on an exam. The son studies hard — really makes the effort — and comes home with a 7.9.

Tiferet (beauty), importantly, is not simply “chesed plus gevurah mixed together” — it’s often described that way, but that’s not quite accurate. Beauty is its own quality: it’s cómo something is done, not just qué is done. Two people can reach the identical outcome, but one does it in a way that shines and the other doesn’t — like two pieces of furniture that are functionally identical, except one has been polished to a beautiful finish and the other hasn’t. (And even here there’s a balance: polish too much, and instead of shining, you destroy the piece entirely.)

These three qualities — kindness, judgment, and beauty — are also the three “colors” of our own teshuvah. Sometimes we’ve been too indulgent with ourselves or others; sometimes too harsh; sometimes we’ve failed to bring the beauty and balance a situation called for. Genuine repentance means examining ourselves along all three dimensions.

Our Work, Not G-d’s

This is also where the Chassidic reading diverges meaningfully from Abarbanel’s explanation. For Abarbanel, the shift after the Flood was entirely G-d’s doing — He simply purified the atmosphere; Noah himself didn’t need to change, since he was already righteous before and after.

The Chassidic teaching adds a crucial dimension: it is our repentance that transforms the clouds. The shift from concealment to revelation isn’t automatic or unilateral — it’s something we generate through our own inner work. And this, ultimately, is tied to the coming of Moshiach. Our sages teach that the moment the Jewish people fully return to G-d, redemption follows immediately.

This reframes what “exile” really means. Exile isn’t a matter of geography — a person standing in prayer at the Western Wall can still be in a state of spiritual exile, because exile is fundamentally about concealment, about not perceiving godliness clearly, regardless of physical location. And redemption, correspondingly, isn’t a change of address — it’s a change of perception, brought about through our own return.

The Takeaway

The rainbow, in this reading, isn’t a static badge assigned to a set of universal laws. It’s a living symbol of a process: concealment that can be transformed into revelation, purely through our own initiative. The three colors — kindness, judgment, and beauty — are an invitation to examine how we show up in the world, and the whole picture, from the water cycle to the colors in the sky, points to one idea: the light was always there. Our task is simply to clear the clouds.

Rabino Tuvia Serber

Sources Referenced in This Class

A general note on sourcing: several references above were given in the original class without full citations (exact chapter/page numbers for Ramban and Kli Yakar, the specific maamar, etc.). The citations here reflect the standard locations for these discussions and are offered as a starting point — it’s worth double-checking exact chapter and page numbers against the printed sources before publishing.


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