Bereshit 2020
This week’s parsha, Bereshit, describes, among other things, the creation of the world. The creation story is partly confusing, sometimes repetitive, and seemingly missing information. Thus it makes sense that according to many classical commentaries the Torah’s creation story is not literal, but rather its purpose is to teach us important lessons and foundational concepts, not the science of creation. When read in this light the parsha becomes a deep philosophical story to be closely examined and mined for meaning. Let us survey a few verses as an example.
The Parsha states: “And every shrub of the field as yet was not on earth and no grasses of the field had yet sprouted, because the Lord God had not sent rain upon the earth and a person was not there to work the soil. And a mist came up from the ground and watered the whole surface of the earth. And the Lord God formed the human from the dust of the earth, and blew into his nostrils the breath of life, and the human became a living being. (Genesis 2:5-7)”
Every verse in Bereshit prompts so many questions. In chapter one of Bereshit the trees and grasses were already created, is this story a compliment to that of the sudden creation of vegetation in chapter one or an alternative narrative? Why were the grasses unable to grow before there was a person to cultivate them? Why doesn't the parsha say plainly that there was no vegetation, why the phrase - “as yet”? Is there really a need for water? After all, there was lots of water already at the beginning of the creation. Why a mist from the ground, why not rain?
Rashi here adds several fascinating comments:
“And a mist went up -This is written in regard to the creation of the human being. The depths (tihom) were drawn up to water the dirt and create the human being. Like a baker who adds water to flour then kneads the dough, so to here (to create humans) first there must be watering and then the formation (of the human from dirt).”
“Had not sent rain - Why had God not sent rain yet? Because there was no person to work the ground and to recognize the value of rain. When the human came and knew that rain is needed for the world, he prayed for it and it came down and the trees and grasses sprouted.”
The Talmud (Sukkah 15) learns something quite surprising from this mist: “How do we know that the schach of the sukkah must be made from something that grows from the ground and can not become impure? From the verse, “And a mist came up from the ground.” Just as the mist (in Bereshit) comes from the ground and can not become impure, so too the schach of a sukkah must be something which grows from the ground and can not become impure (i.e. is not yet made into a vessel by a human being).”
This first parsha in the Torah is a good opportunity to start a weekly discussion of the Torah portion with family members or roommates. Read the verses above and ask for people's thoughts. If there is time read the Rashi or the Talmud from Sukkah. Discuss. Let me know how it goes!
Here is one meandering thought of mine which addresses only one of the questions above, the “as yet-ness” with which the verse expresses the lack of water in the absence of a human being:
Can there be rain and vegetation, or indeed anything, before the human has come on the scene? Perhaps things only truly exist when there is a human observer, like the proverbial sound of the tree falling in the forest, or Schrodinger's cat. We have five senses, but how many things might exist for which we have no sense organ? We will never know and indeed they seem to have no impact on our universe, even though they might “exist”. Such questions throw into disarray the entire project of epistemology - the understanding of what we know or how we can know anything. If we have no sense organ for something then it really does not exist in a human universe. If we sense it clearly and consistently and everyone else does also then we agree that it exists. Ultimately we have no idea if things actually exist or if things are only human perceptions. We only know anything as the product of our brain function, we can never know what is “actually” out there. None of us can ever get outside of our minds and our perception. Perhaps in these senses the rain and the trees and the world are all “as yet” waiting for the human beings creation, waiting for our presence and attention and, as Rashi put it, our prayers.
