And G-d Saw That It Was Good

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And G-d Saw That It Was Good

Last week I read the notice on Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sack’s website. He is in need of a refuah, and so on Shabbat I sat together with my daughter, and we learned a bit from his book on Genesis for a refuah shleimah for HaRav Ya’acov Tzvi ben Leah. And there is one profound insight from the learning that keeps circling around in my head.  

Rabbi Sacks wrote that as beings created in the image of G-d, we are able, in our limited, human way, to reflect the creativity of Hashem. Just as Hashem created the world, we are challenged to create our own personal world. And we are instructed, says Rabbi Sacks, to use the same method to create our personal world that Hashem used to create the world as a whole.

What was the method through which Hashem created the world? It was a three-step process. First, Hashem used speech to create.  For example, “And He said, “Let there be light.” We too, are instructed to use our ability to speak and our ability to reason to shape our world. The second step is bringing our thoughts and ideas into reality. After Hashem says, “Let there be” the Torah then records, “and there was.” Thought and speech alone is never enough.

And then there is the third step. “And G-d saw that it was good.” It is this third step, the one that doesn’t, at first glance, seem to be necessary at all, which I’ve been thinking about so much. Why did Hashem need to look at what He created, and see that it was good?

Rabbi Sacks says that the ability to see and engage with the good in our imperfect world is an intrinsic part of the creation process. The ability to see good is a way of giving birth to that good as a reality in our world. When we see the good in someone else, when we believe in them, we help them to live that good. When we see the good in our world, our world becomes an expression of that good.

Rabbi Sacks’ explanation of this third step resonated strongly with me in our new, Carona-infused world, where all of us have been called on to recreate our world in ways we didn’t imagine and in circumstances that we consider, to put it mildly, less than ideal. Some days, we manage to accomplish amazing things in the circumstances. And then there are the other days, the days where we are just trying to make it through. The days when we aren’t really seeing the good.

Did you know that the original creation process, according to our Sages, was not entirely smooth sailing either? Rashi points out that in Bereisheit 1:11 Hashem asks the earth to produce fruit trees bearing fruit, meaning trees whose trunk and bark tasted like fruit, which also made fruit. Nevertheless, in the very next verse, we see that the earth simply made regular tasting trees whose fruit tasted like fruit. Even so, the end of pasuk 12 reads, “and G-d saw that it was good.”

The message is that to really create in this world, we have to see and accept that our messy, imperfect world, and our messy, imperfect selves, are good. We create good by seeing good.

There are two ways that we can put this into action. One I learned from one of my closest friends. She has the habit, which she maintains even in the most difficult of circumstances, of asking each of her children at the end of the day to share with her three good things. This habit has always had a special place in my heart, but it wasn’t until I read this piece of Torah from Rabbi Sacks that I realized the profundity behind this sweet and simple part of her bedtime routine. When we take the time to spell out three good things about our day, when we recognize three good things in our world, we create a world that is good enough to hold three good things. We create for ourselves a good world to live in.

I learned another aspect of this concept from my good friend and teacher, Mrs. Racheli Miller. She taught me how valuable it is, at the end of the day, not just to go over what we might have done wrong, but also to see and validate what we have done right. And yes, even if we didn’t do everything right, all the things we did do right still count! We can find not just three ways, but ten ways in which we expressed our tzelem elokim, our internal goodness, through our actions during the course of the day. Being able to see the goodness in ourselves and in the people around us changes our world. Seeing the good creates more of that good in ourselves and the people around us.

These are two ways I thought about really living with this profound idea. We can take the time with ourselves or with our children, to find three good things that happened during the day, and three good things we did during the day. We can do it for the purpose of forming a personal world that expresses good.  In this way we can reinforce the idea, in ourselves and in our children,  that we are good people in a good world.

Have you ever used these methods? Did they work for you? Are you thinking of other ways to put this idea into action? I would love to hear about it!

Noach

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A Tale of Generational Misuse

After the story in Parshat Bereisheit of how Hashem created and formed our world, we read the story of how we humans reformed the world through our actions. And it’s not a pretty story. Instead, it’s a tale of missed opportunities and misused strengths. In his comments on Parshat Noach, Rav Schorr focuses on three successive generations. What’s fascinating to behold is the way each generation has its own unique way of twisting its incredible potential and using it in exactly the wrong way.

The first generation is the generation of Enosh. Rambam tells us that the generation of Enosh (who was Adam’s grandson) is the generation which brought avodah zarah into the world. There is a very vivid midrash (Bereisheit Rabbah 23:6) which says that during the time of Enosh the nature of the human face changed, from a face that reflected the image of G-d, to a face that resembled a monkey.

The potential of this generation, which was so close to the generation of Adam HaRishon, was that they still retained a real understanding of what  it means to be an “adam,” to expresses the idea that, “adameh l’elokim,” I am a creation who resembles my Creator. However, Rav Schorr remarks that the defining sin of this generation was jealousy. Created with a yearning and a desire to look up to Hashem, this generation lowered its gaze. Instead of striving to be like Hashem, they strove to be like the guy next door. They were jealous of each other, and it changed the essence of who they were. Monkey see, monkey do. They became defined by jealousy, and their faces resembled monkeys.

During the time of Enosh the midrash says flood waters came and destroyed a third of the world. The next generation, the generation of the flood, took note of this destruction. They recognized that change was needed, and so they decided to alter the nature of their sins, in order to save themselves from further destruction. However, it was hard to take the threat of destruction seriously. Before the flood incident, this was a generation that enjoyed tremendous material prosperity. People lived incredibly long lives. And according to the chachamim, the weather was always great. It was perpetual spring, with a forecast that called for rain only once every forty days, but in exactly the right amount to water the crops perfectly.

The material prosperity of this generation was meant to be a resource for spiritual accomplishment. Metushelach, who lived until just before the flood, did just that. He lived an unparalleled long life, and was righteous beyond our comprehension. His generation, however, was not interested in following in his footsteps. The Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 38:6) says the defining expression of the generation was, “Who is this G-d, Sha-kai, that we should serve Him?” The name Sha-kai refers to a specific middah of Hashem. Chagigah (12b) describes how this name came into play in the creation of the world. Hashem created the world through a process of continuous expansion, like two unraveling balls of warp thread, until, at the point at which it was about to go too far and lose the connection to the Source, Hashem said to the world, “Dai, enough.” The name Shakai is the name of Hashem which expresses the middah of constraint.

The generation of the flood was uninterested in acknowledging this aspect of Hashem. Hashem as benevolent giver was great. But they did not want to be constrained in any way. They wanted the freedom to use the abundance of the world without restraint, in whatever way they saw fit. They wanted a world without boundaries. Their judgement was therefore sealed because of the sin of gezel, stealing. This was the sin that expressed their worldview: “I will allow nothing, certainly not your ownership over what I want, to stand in the way of me fulfilling my desires.” They wanted a world without boundaries, and so Hashem removed the boundaries of the ocean and let it wash over their world.  

After the mabul, the nature of the world changed. The boundaries of the world became more pronounced. Lifespans were shortened. The perpetual warm weather was constrained by the winter months. And a new sign, the half-circle of the rainbow, signified that the evil of the world would never again be given full reign to make a full circle and encompass the world. The next generation, the dor haflaga, the generation of the Tower of Bavel, took note. Once again, they decided the old ways weren’t working. They needed another new way to sin.

The defining characteristic of the dor haflaga was their unity. “The entire land spoke one language and had uniform words.” (Bereisheit 11:1) Once again we can see a tremendous misuse of great spiritual potential. Their unity was not true unity. It was unity from the lips outward, with a focus on what you say and what you do, not who you are. This came along with a conscious desire to ignore the inner unifying reality of the world. Ramban (Bereisheit 11:2) describes the sin of this generation as “they cut off the plantings,” i.e. they cut off the plant from its roots. Rav Schorr explains what this means. They wanted to unify all nine ma’amarot of creation that formed the natural world. But they wanted nothing to do with the first ma’amar, Bereisheit, which expresses that the source of the unity of the world is the unity of Hashem. They wanted all of nature but cut off from it’s unifying source. Hashem’s response to their fake unity was to force a situation in which the external circumstances matched the internal reality. They were separated and scattered over the face of the earth.

The midrash tells us that there is no generation that does not have men like the men of dor hamabul and dor haflagah. The sins of their generation are the sins of our generation, and the words of Moshe in Devarim 32:7 “Remember the days of old; reflect upon the years  [other] generations,” is a message to us to look around us, and recognize where we are unfortunately following in the footsteps of the wrong ancestors.

Bereisheit

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Creation is for Unification

In his comments on Bereisheit, Ohr Gedalyahu gets down to the absolute basics of our existence. His insights into the structure of how our world was created illuminate the nature of our world, and more specifically, the nature of our avodah in our world. Chazal (Pirkei Avot, 5:1 and Bereisheit Rabbah 17:1) tell us that Hashem created our world using ten expressions of creation. However, these expressions are not all qualitatively the same. The first expression, “Bereisheit,” is fundamentally different than all the others.  With the expression “Bereisheit” the entire world was brought into existence in a potential state. Each of the subsequent expressions acted to delineate and separate our already created world. Day one was a day of complete oneness. On day one, in a way we cannot understand, all of creation existed in a unified form.

When we look around our world today, we no longer seem connected to that original unity of the first day. But the reality is that we remain connected still. That day of unity left its mark on our world. By creating our world through the expression of “Bereisheit,” an expression of unity, and then delineating our world through the other expressions, Hashem instilled into all of creation an internal, eternal, drive for unity. The Tikkunei Zohar expresses this idea when it describes the lower waters, separated from the higher waters, crying out because of the separation, yearning to reconnect. That cry for reconnection, says Rav Schorr, is not just the cry of the lower waters. It is a cry which is implanted in every part of creation. If we look, we will find within ourselves a deep yearning to reunify with our Source, our Creator.

This internal drive towards unification has a home, a place it is moving us towards. The story of creation does not end with the ten expressions of creation. The story of creation ends with Shabbat. And Shabbat comes from the root shav, to return. On Shabbat creation returns to its source. The world was created from a place of unity and returns to a place of unity.

And throughout the process, there is an internal connectedness in the world, though it is not always revealed. Had Hashem created the world fully formed, each aspect being brought into existence simultaneously, then there would be no intrinsic connection between the different parts of our world. Instead, our world was created in such a way that each part of creation was formed from what came before. Humans, created at the end of the process, are formed from all that came before us. And we were part of it all from the beginning. Fascinatingly, Rav Schorr uses this concept of interconnectedness to explain the defiance of the land on day three (See Rashi, Bereisheit 1:11). The ability of humans to have free choice and defy Hashem’s will existed in potential on day three in the earth from which we would be formed.

Our interconnectedness to all of creation allows us to look out at the world, and to see in each piece of it, the unique song it sings in praise of its creator. This is the purpose of creation, and why all of existence is dependent on us. Our ability to recognize Hashem in this world is what crowns Him, not as a moshal, a dictator, over us, but as a melech, a king we choose to see and obey. The song of the day for Friday, the day that we were created, is Tehillim 93, “Hashem is melech, king, clothed in Majesty.”

All of our existence exists in a creation called time, and the soul of creation is Shabbat (see Shemot 31:17, where Shabbat is “vayenafash”). On Shabbat, when we cease our creative processes, and declare Hashem King over our thoughts and our actions, we reach the purpose of creation.

Live Deep

Within his description of creation, Rav Schorr sketches for us a vision of Adam Rishon on day six, turning to the world around him, and addressing the entire word with the first words of  Tehillim 95, “Lechu Neranena L’Hashem:  Come, let us sing to Hashem, let us call out to the Rock of our Salvation.” This is Adam, turning to creation, and recognizing the unique song each creation sings to its creator. Each part of creation has a unique ability to reveal an aspect of kavod shamayim. Until we humans were created, there was no being capable of revealing those songs in the world. When Adam turned to the world around him, and listened to its expression of G-dliness, that was the completion of the creation process. That was the fulfillment of the purpose of creation.

We may not be able to see the song of every single piece of creation, but we can step outside for a moment, and appreciate the beauty of a tree, or a flower, or the sky or a bird, and we can hear the song it sings, the song that says this beauty was created by Hashem. And when we take that mindful moment, and appreciate that song, we can also appreciate that in that small moment, we are actualizing our the potential to reconnect to our Source, and fulfill the purpose of creation.