The World Is Filled with Hamas

Why October 7 proved that humanity still needs a Divine Reset

The World Before the Flood — and Before October 7

The Torah tells us that in the generation of Noach, “the earth was filled with חמס (Hamas)” (Bereishit 6:11).

That word Hamas means violence, corruption, and lawlessness — a society that lost its moral compass, where human life no longer had value.

It’s chilling that thousands of years later, the same name was chosen by the organization that unleashed unspeakable evil on October 7. The parallel is impossible to ignore. The Torah is not ancient poetry — it is prophecy in motion. The same word that once marked the corruption of humanity now marks the terror that tried to destroy the Jewish people again.

Prior to October 7, Israel was divided. Streets were filled with protests; families torn apart over politics and ideology. Brothers stopped talking to brothers. The debate over judicial reform became toxic. We forgot that we are one people with one destiny.

While we fought each other, our enemies were watching. They saw a house divided and waited for their moment. And when it came, the unimaginable happened.

The Blindness Before the Storm

October 7 wasn’t just a military failure — it was a moment of spiritual blindness. Somehow, despite all our intelligence, satellites, and surveillance, we were caught unprepared. It felt as though God had closed our eyes. In truth, it was our sense of complacency—our inability to imagine people could be so evil — that led us to ignore the dangers and the signs.

It wasn’t random. The Sages teach that when the Jewish people are divided, God removes His protection. The Second Temple wasn’t only destroyed by Rome — it fell because of sinat chinam, baseless hatred.

Maybe October 7 was another kind of mabul, a flood of horror meant to jolt us awake. Evil flooded the world again — and this time, it was filmed, celebrated, and justified. Western governments hesitated to condemn. Media outlets equated victims and murderers. Professors and students in “enlightened” universities waved the flags of terror.

It was a desecration of God’s Name on a global scale — a moment when truth itself drowned.

What Is Hamas — Then and Now

Rashi explains that חמס  means “theft and violence together” — a world where morality has collapsed. People took whatever they wanted, not because they needed it, but because they could. Ramban adds that the generation of the Flood was destroyed not for idolatry alone, but because society itself had rotted.

Rabbi Doron Perez deepens this understanding. In Bereishit 6:11, the Torah says, “וַתִּמָּלֵא הָאָרֶץ חָמָס” — “the world was filled with Hamas.” He explains that this phrase reflects not just violence, but a total disregard for human dignity and freedom. The Targum Onkelos, one of the earliest commentaries on the Torah, astonishingly translates חמס as “taking hostages.”

Rabbi Perez notes that this ancient definition describes the very essence of evil — stealing others’ freedom, systemically violating justice, and treating human beings as property. The generation of the Flood lost its moral right to exist because it traded life and liberty for corruption and control. And so too today, Hamas has forfeited any moral right to govern or even to exist as a regime.

Evil has resurfaced under the same name, and once again it takes hostages, murders innocents, and glorifies death. When the world excuses barbarism and blames the victims, it repeats the sin of that ancient generation. Civilization itself begins to drown again in חמס — in moral blindness and inhumanity.

Noach, the Ark, and the Reset

Noach was told to build an ark — a teivah. It took him 120 years. The Midrash says God gave the world that much time to change, to repent. But no one listened. They mocked him.

When the rain came, it was too late. Only Noach, his family, and the animals survived. The ark wasn’t just a boat; it was a spiritual refuge — faith, discipline, and moral separation from a corrupt world.

Today we, too, are called to build an ark — not of wood, but of values. A society rooted in justice, truth, and responsibility. Israel’s survival is not just military; it is moral. We must be the ark in a world that has lost its way.

Recovery

How did Noach recover from this devastation?

When Noach left the ark, he faced a destroyed world. The Torah tells us he planted a vineyard, drank wine, and became drunk. The man who had once walked with God lost himself. He survived — but he didn’t rebuild.

Avraham, who came after, did what Noach could not. He didn’t withdraw from the world; he engaged it. He built altars, welcomed strangers, and taught that there is one God and that morality matters. That’s why God chose Avraham — because he didn’t just survive; he transformed.

After October 7, we have a choice. Will we be like Noach — shocked, withdrawn, numbing our pain? Or like Avraham — rising from the ashes to rebuild with faith and courage?

Why Didn’t God Give the Torah at Creation?

A wise friend once asked me: “If the Torah is the blueprint for life, why didn’t God give it to Adam or to Noach? Why wait thousands of years?”

The answer is that humanity had to fail first. We had to learn that progress without morality leads to chaos. The Flood, the Tower of Babel, Sodom — all show what happens when humans play God. Only after those failures could the world receive divine law at Sinai.

Maybe October 7 was another such moment — a reminder that technology, intelligence, and power mean nothing without values. The West, obsessed with freedom without responsibility, is discovering what happens when truth has no anchor.

The War for Truth

Today, Israel fights not only Hamas in Gaza but a war for truth across the world. The battleground is no longer just in tunnels — it’s in universities, on social media, in the hearts and minds of the next generation.

We are witnessing moral inversion. Murderers are celebrated; victims are condemned. The same world that vowed “Never Again” is silent again. The so-called human-rights organizations ignore rape, torture, and slaughter if the victims are Jews.

One of the clearest examples of this moral breakdown came during the hostage exchanges. The media and many Western leaders equated innocent Israeli hostages with Palestinian prisoners, most of whom were convicted terrorists with blood on their hands. They were presented as two sides of the same equation — as if a child kidnapped from her home and a man who stabbed a teenager at a bus stop are morally comparable.

And yet, the headlines did not distinguish. Broadcasters repeated the word “exchange” without a hint of shame or correction. Not one questioned how terrorists who planned massacres could be compared to toddlers ripped from their parents’ arms. The media failed to call out evil for what it is, turning moral clarity into moral confusion.

It is sickening that the truth itself has been twisted and distorted — that October 7, a day of barbaric slaughter, rape, and kidnapping, is described in global forums and newsrooms as “legitimate resistance.”

What kind of civilization calls the murder of babies, the burning of families alive, and the desecration of bodies “resistance”? This is not moral complexity; this is moral collapse.

Those who use such language have lost not only compassion but conscience. They have exchanged good for evil, light for darkness, and truth for lies. The sickness is not only in Gaza — it has infected the moral bloodstream of the West itself.

This isn’t just antisemitism — it’s rebellion against God. Because Israel doesn’t only represent a nation; we represent an idea — that there is good and evil, truth and lies, and that moral law comes from above, not from human fashion.

The attack on Israel is an attack on that very foundation. When people chant “From the river to the sea,” they aren’t just calling for Israel’s destruction; they’re calling for a world without God’s moral boundaries.

The Divine Reset

The Flood was a Divine Reset. God wiped away a world of חמס and began again. The rainbow was the covenant — a promise that He would never destroy the world again. But it was also a reminder that we must not destroy ourselves.

October 7 was a wake-up call — not just for Israel, but for all of humanity. The masks fell; good and evil became clear again. The question is: what will we do with that clarity?

Because it is not only Hamas and radical Islam that needs a reset. It is the pro-Palestinian crowd around the world, the voices that march through Western capitals chanting for “resistance” while ignoring rape, murder, and terror. It is the journalists, academics, and influencers who have replaced truth with ideology. It is the political leaders who condemn Israel’s defense but are silent about Jewish death. The infection has spread far beyond Gaza — it has infested the moral bloodstream of the world.

The same sickness that destroyed the generation of Noach now threatens our generation — not through water, but through lies. Evil has become fashionable again, and those who stand for truth are accused of hate.

The world needs to understand that “Palestinianism,” like Communism before it, has become a modern moral cancer. It may sound noble — clothed in slogans of freedom and justice — but beneath the surface, it is laced with lies, hatred, and evil. Just as Communism promised equality and delivered tyranny, this ideology promises liberation and delivers terror. It is built on the destruction of truth and the sanctification of victimhood.

This is not a call for peace or coexistence — it is a global cult that seeks to delegitimize Israel and erase the moral foundation of Western civilization itself. And like every false faith built on deception, it must be confronted, exposed, and overcome — not with hate, but with truth and moral courage.

We cannot go back to moral relativism. The Wisdom of the Torah must return as the world’s moral compass. The nations must remember that freedom without faith leads to chaos. And Israel must lead not just with innovation, but with values.

We, the descendants of Avraham, have a mission — to rebuild a world of justice and kindness, of truth and covenant. The rainbow must shine again, not as a symbol of human pride, but of divine mercy and human responsibility.

Conclusion — Standing After the Flood

Today, we stand where Noach once stood: surrounded by ruins, survivors, and questions. We weep, we rebuild, and we search for meaning. But unlike Noach, we have the Torah — our blueprint, our moral compass.

The world is still filled with Hamas. But we know that light will overcome darkness. The covenant still stands. The Jewish people are still here — bruised, but unbroken.

God promised that He would never again destroy the world with a flood. This time, it’s up to us not to drown in one.

“But I will establish My covenant with you, and you shall come into the ark.” — Bereishit 6:18

May we build our arks of faith, unity, and truth — and may this generation choose, finally, to be children of Avraham, not prisoners of Noach’s despair.