Beginning Again: Genesis
D’var Torah for Parashat Bereishit
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
Is there ever a beginning? Or is it no more than a random mark left along the river of infinity? These words as you read them, this reflection on the opening passage of the Hebrew Bible, Genesis 1:1, denote a new beginning; but are they not also preceded by a long process of interpretation, going back thousands of years?
And if so, was there ever a moment in time that we call The Beginning?
Humans have been pondering these questions since the dawn of awareness. Along the way, several answers were offered. There were stories of battles between gods and demons; myths about good, spiritual gods and lower-grade, materialistic gods. In the western world, some two and a half thousand years ago, three philosophies emerged: Platonism, Aristotelianism and Judaism.
Plato dealt with the issue most simply. He theorized that there never was a beginning. IT—everything—was simply always there, ad infinitum. No beginning; no end; only one, infinite, now.
Aristotle, on the other hand, said there had to be a beginning, simply because things are, and everything that is comes from something else. Logically, therefore, all existence must have originated at some point, put in place and motion by a unique source, which he called the Prime Mover.
Judaism is famous for its own understanding of The Beginning. There was A Beginning, Judaism proposes, and along with it, purpose and plan; and the Prime Mover, whom the Jews called God.
Judaism clearly sides with Aristotle. Human logic cannot entertain the concept of infinity.
Yet, the text we Jews use as proof is not at all so clear. The first word in the book of Genesis, b’reishit, is usually translated as “In the beginning.” Yet, both grammatically and figuratively the word could be understood in several ways. The familiar King James version is only one of these. Multiple interpretations of the word were necessary to defend Judaism from its many detractors. As early as the first century, arguments were raised to counter and deny the Jewish understanding that the world was created ex nihilo(from nothing), conceived as an idea and actualized by a most powerful God. In the Midrash—rabbinic stories and commentaries on the Scriptures—we find a number of explanations. Among these is an interesting suggestion that creation as we know it—the one described in the first two chapters of Genesis—may not have been the very first one. According to the midrash, there were earlier versions, none of which ultimately pleased God. The world as we know it today is the one that God finally decided wasgood enough (though, as we remember from the story of Noah’s Flood, God came awfully close to destroying this one as well).
Fluctuating between the two possibilities—ex nihilo and infinite—Judaism found a compromise. Each new beginning follows a previous ending.
We see this in the Jewish Torah rituals. At this season of the year, as one year ends and a new one begins, so does the cycle of the weekly-portion readings. The last verses of Deuteronomy are read, followed immediately by the story of Creation in Genesis. Moses dies, leadership of the Israelites passes on to Joshua, and God says, “Let there be light.”
Year after year, like nature itself, the cycle ends only to begin again.
Yes, it’s an intellectual exercise, but there is more to it than that. There’s a lesson to be learned from this custom.
The autumnal High Holy Days, Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, celebrate the beginning of a new calendar year. But what the accompanying Torah reading accomplishes is to remind us not to get too caught up in the everyday process, but rather to stop and admire the gifts that surround us at this moment.
How easy it is, at this busy season of the year, when we gear up for the oncoming of winter, to forget to enjoy the beauty of the seasons, the gift of time itself! Yes, we can explain the turning of the leaves: The production of chlorophyll stops and the green disappears, replaced by vibrant hues of orange, yellow and crimson. But none of that scientific logic can replace the visual beauty of the afternoon light reflected from my neighbor’s tree into my house, for a few moments every day daubing the walls with a layer of unexpected deep golden tones.
Like animals that store up food for the winter, we humans get so caught up with work at this season! Vacation over, we feel as though we must catch up after all the time we spent relaxing on the beach or gently swinging in a hammock. We plunge furiously into the new year, as though facing an eternal winter. The days are getting shorter! Colder! Let’s hurry, so little time left!
But as we start reading the book of Genesis, we are reminded to look around with wonder. As Creation unfolds one day at a time, we get a chance to think about the fact that all these atoms and elements somehow were attracted to each other, combined and recombined, formed and evolved, creating objects on earth and in the heavens, each in its proper place, each in its proper time.
How totally amazing that every creature on this earth has its specific food, created expressly for it! Could day six of Creation have come at any other time? Why, it’s as though someone or something had planned it all out, making sure that the setting was all in place before the characters were called forth!
The generations of humanity listed in the Torah make for lengthy, boring readings, unless we stop and remember that each individual was special, unique, imbued with talents and qualities as no other. The patterns are similar—they follow, after all, the order established at the very Beginning. But what each person brings into the world is something original, something that was never there before. Each of us represents a new Creation, a new Beginning.
Our life and our history are the result of what came before us. It’s easy to lose oneself in the infinite span of time. The Torah, however, enables us to stop time and renew ourselves. We learn to appreciate the uniqueness of the here-and-now. Each moment is new. Each day is a new world of limitless opportunities.
Today is the doorway to a better tomorrow.
Let it begin. With you, with me, with each human being, picking up the broken pieces, beginning again.
© 2018 by Boaz D. Heilman
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