Sons of Noah Comics - Teaser #2

This is the second post of the teaser for upcoming, Noahide superhero comics Rabbi Yitzchak Jetter and Rabbi Moshe Perets have been working on. Hope you enjoy!

The Weight of Responsibility

The synagogue was small enough that even from David’s seat in the back of its library, he could hear the sound of the air unit. Afternoon light came in through the stained glass, heating the old oak tables and adjacent chairs. The book before him—The Divine Code, corners blunted, spine softened by hundreds of openings—held its place under his hand. He read a line twice, then closed his eyes. “But flesh with its soul, its blood, you shall not eat.” Seems those words from the beginning of the Torah are its animal rights come from.

Beside the book, his father watched him within a wooden picture frame. The smile he showed in the image was a kind, yet relentless one. David’s father, too, had been a practicing Noahide, as well as a sitting judge for a Noahide Court. He knew that his father would be happy to see him still studying Noahide Law. In the quiet, his father’s voice rang within his mind, not as a lecture but as measured words: Justice is more than laws. It is a weight and a duty.

David processed this. Laws were clear. Lines on a page were straight, even when the cases they described were borderline convoluted. But the weight—people and their real lives—never balanced itself; some part of you had to go on the scale.

He drew a breath and rested his thumb on the book’s margin, where his own notes crowded the printed text—names, phone numbers, fragments of promises he’d made in courthouse hallways. He remembered his father’s late nights in his study, index cards on his desk left and right, each one a real case he judged. Each was given the same careful attention, whether it came from a judge or a janitor; you take people seriously or you don’t take the law seriously.

David’s little shul had always steadied him: worn benches, the faint smell of wax, even the silence most times of the day.

He opened his eyes and gazed into the book again. Still contemplating justice, he flipped through the pages. A chapter on theft, another on courts — prohibitions that guard people like a city wall. He traced the outline of the paragraph with his finger.

Then he straightened and squared his shoulders to the work waiting beyond the synagogue door, and lifted the book. The weight in his hands felt modest. He could manage that.

By Rabbi Yitzchak Jetter.

Look out for Rabbi Y's Noahide Sunday school for kids, launching soon!