Bereshit

We are beginning with the most fascinating first portion of the Torah – the portion of the book of Bereshit, about which, I confess, it is very hard for me to speak, and here is why. There are, for example, weekly portions that consist of a list of the gifts that the heads of the tribes brought to the Temple, or of some genealogies. And you sit for a long time, you reread, you think how to convey this to the listener so that it is interesting for him, so that this Torah is sweet and not some tedious list. And this preparation takes a lot of time, until something opens up that you can tell people and share with them.

In contrast to these portions, the weekly portion Bereshit is distinguished by the fact that there is a multitude of commentaries on it! You can tell mysteries, secrets, and wherever you glance, and whatever lessons you look at: “Hidden meanings of the weekly portion Bereshit,” “Mashiach in the weekly portion Bereshit,” “Mysteries of the weekly portion Bereshit.” And an endless, endless multitude of such lessons.

But I would like to uncover the simplest, the most original meaning of the portion Bereshit. I have always been sure, and I am sure now, that the Most High, who gave us the Torah, is the Most Brilliant of authors and writers of all times and peoples. And when He gives us the Torah, He wants us to read it at least once chapter by chapter; so that, while reading the first chapter, we would not peek into the second and would not know the very end. But this tempts us. We can rarely read Scripture as if for the first time. Who today is capable of this – of reading as though you had never read it? It is very difficult. We will always want to see something that we know about, that we guess at, we will want to immediately “read into” the text, to point a finger. This is wonderful. And it has gone so far that whole books have been written on the very first word בְְּרֵאשִׁית‏‎ (bereshít). That is, there were people who immersed themselves so deeply in Scripture, in its mysteries, in its hidden meanings, that they devoted whole books to the first word. There are quite serious and quite interesting commentaries on the first word – בְְּרֵאשִׁית‏‎ (bereshít). This is wonderful, this is very interesting. And I myself, I confess, love these books very much. I like it when someone reflects on why the Torah begins with the little letter ב (bet), or on the fact that the little letter ב‏‎ (bet) is open to one side and, as it were, reveals to us what will be, and does not reveal what was before, leaving a tiny, tiny little tail that looks back there, into the past, through which you can peek into the past. Someone reflected on this, to someone it was revealed this way. And it does not matter whether this was in the design (after all, the letters of the Torah were originally different) or this was not in the design, but the thought is interesting. It is just that with this thought you can also be very badly mistaken.

I will show you an intentionally silly example of this kind, fitting the Torah to myself. Here, for example: בְּרֵאשִׁית בָּרָא אֱלֹהִים אֵת (bereshít bará elohím et). The first two words begin with the little letter ב (bet). This is the first letter of my surname. The second two words begin with the little letter א (álef). These are the first letters of my first name. Here is already a hint: bet, alef – Blend Alexander. Let us go further. The word ‏אֱלֹהִים (elohím) is 86 in gematria. And in gematria this is also my surname – Blend. So I easily wrote myself in here, into the very first verse of Scripture! Which, of course, is not there even remotely.

And it is good when the idea is silly, and it is obvious that it has been written in here. There are ideas that we want to see here. We want very much to make them out. And it is good when we make them out. Let us take the word אֶת (et). It consists of א (álef) and ת (tav) – the first and the last letters of the alphabet. And you can say: here it is – Alpha and Omega! Yes, it is good to say so, it is good to develop this thought. It is interesting, but you should not neglect, you should not miss the simplest, the most original meaning of the Torah, of which the text is never deprived. There is such a rule in reading the Torah, that the simple meaning never disappears. You cannot say that it is written like this, in the simple sense, but in reality it means something else. No, the simple meaning always really does exist. Therefore I invite you on a journey (which, perhaps, will seem to some not interesting at all) into the simplest, original meaning of the weekly portion Bereshit. We will read it the way a person would read it who has opened this book for the first time and does not yet quite guess what it is about.

The word bereshít consists of the preposition ב (bet), which can be translated as in, and the word רֵאשִׁית (reshít) – beginning, that is, “In the beginning God created heaven and earth”. The preposition bet can also be translated as by means of something, for example, with an ice axe or a pickaxe. And then we will say: “With the beginning God created heaven and earth.” It can also be translated as in the name of and for the sake of: “For the sake of the beginning God created heaven and earth.” And the commentators, of course, set off in this, and in that, and in a third direction. What also makes them look for these directions is the fact that the word reshít (beginning) is not used by itself. When we say in the beginning, the question arises: in the beginning of what? at the beginning of the season? at the beginning of existence? And you wait for some noun that will describe the beginning of what is being talked about. Therefore some are inclined to translate the remaining part of the sentence as joined to the beginning, that is: “In the beginning of the creation by God of heaven and earth.” It can be translated that way too. But if we nevertheless speak about understanding the pshat as the simple meaning, then while reading we will understand that the most probable understanding is: “In the beginning God created heaven and earth, and here is how it was.”

Up to the end of the third day we will see the announced description. We will see how that which will be called earth appeared, and how that which will be called heavens appeared: et hashamáyim ve'et ha'áretz – heaven and earth. A great deal is said about this particle את (et), which is in fact a case preposition, and you can simply translate: heaven and earth. But there is a reading of the Torah that says: the word את (et) always also means that which is added to it, that which is inside it. For example, et hadirá is the apartment and what is inside it, some finishing and something else. And then, for example, you can understand et hashamáyim as the heavens and all their host, all the angels and all those who are destined for service in the heavens. The whole, let us say, heavenly set.

I think that we need not go deep into this, and we can say it like this: “In the beginning God created heaven and earth.” And further on will come explanations that will paint for us how this happened, why, and what was created on which days.

And the earth was tóhu vavóhu. This phrase – tóhu vavóhu – is not so easy to understand. Besides the fact that through its very sound it conveys a certain chaos, a “mixed-up-ness” of everything, later on tohu is used to denote emptiness, a desert, something lifeless, meaningless and so on. The meaning of the word vóhu has been preserved in later Semitic languages. For example, in the Arabic languages vóhu also means some kind of emptiness, neglect, disorder. And here, most likely, it is precisely emptiness, lifelessness that is meant.

Vechóshech al-pené tehóm – and darkness over the abyss. Abyss – this is, so to speak, the Russian translation, that is, “without a bottom.” A bottom actually existed, but over the depths of the waters there was darkness, because there was no light yet.

Verúach elohím merachéfet al-pené hammáyim – and the Spirit of God hovers over the water. You can translate it like this. Rúach elohím in this case is the Spirit of God. It can also be translated as strong wind. Indeed, the word elohím is used in the meaning strong in relation to wind, and to noise, and to commotion. And the word rúach, as everyone probably already knows, can mean both spirit and wind. Therefore the whole expression can also be translated as a strong wind hovers over the water. What the Author meant is hard for us to say unambiguously (again, there are commentaries in both directions). And we, as believers, like it that the commentators say: “Rúach elohím, the Spirit of God – this is the Spirit of Mashiach.” But if we are reading this text for the first time, then we do not yet know anything about Mashiach, we have not yet read anything about him, and therefore here we read simply: “The Spirit of God hovers over the water.”

There is a difficulty in the Russian translation. This difficulty concerns both these verses of the Torah and especially blessings. God does not say: “Let there be light!” God says: “Light, be!” And when a person blesses and says: “May God give you health!”, “May the LORD send you blessings…”, in the original there is no such “may,” in the original there is: “God will give you health!”, “God will send you a blessing!” I declare my faith! I proclaim that, according to my understanding of the order of the world, this will happen! I affirm it! By this very thing I bless, I connect you to the Divine source, so that you receive it. Here the Most High manifests His creative power, and He commands the light to be. Simply: “And the Most High said: ‘Light, be!’ And light appeared.”

Here we are speaking about a light that is not familiar to us. This is some special light, a substantial light, which after the creation of the luminaries we no longer see. Some special light that could be separated from the darkness. With the light that we know, which is a wave or a particle, this is hard to do, although physicists and creationist scientists propose different solutions to this question. Here light and darkness were like substances that the Most High could separate. He separated them in time, as we will see further on, that is, He gave some time to the light and some time to the darkness. Why do we know this? Because we read in verse 5:

The word érev means mixing, merging. From the moment when the Most High said: “Here – light, here – darkness,” a diffusion takes place between them, the boundary between them is blurred, not strict. And there was a mixing at the junction of day and night, when darkness mixes with light. This is what is called érev – mixing; le'arbév – this is to mix in Hebrew. Vayhi-bóker – there was a pecking through. And there was morning, when the light pierces, passes through the darkness.

Yom echád – day one. You and I have not yet read further, and therefore yom echád is day one, not the first day (yom rishón), as it would be if we were keeping count, but day one. Why so? In the ancient languages of the Semitic group they spoke like this: day, second day, third day. In the later period they began to say: first day, second day, third day. And somewhere in between, right about when the Torah was being given, it was customary to say: day one, second day, third day. Here we will catch the language at the transition from one style to another.

So, the first day – yom echád. And there was evening, and there was morning: day one. This is the end of the first day. What did we see? That on the first day the Most High created light, separated light and darkness, and called the light day, and called the darkness night.

The word rakía is a word that is very difficult to understand. It is often interpreted on the basis of the word lerakéa – to hammer, to hammer out. Let there be, as it were, a hammered-out vault in the midst of the water. Still, I will run ahead and say this, in order to understand the meaning of the word. We know that it (the vault) is like ice, that it shines, and one can say that this is some kind of ice vault, it could be understood that way. But the word lerakéa also means to create a rarefied space. Lerakéa does not mean to create curved-out or curved-in iron, it means to create this very hollowness, this emptiness. Hence, for example, the word merkua, which in Hebrew means sponge cake, some kind of airy, rising dough. That is, a certain rarefaction, rarefiedness. You can translate it as atmosphere: let there be an atmosphere, let there be a rarefied space in the midst of the water.

One can speak a great deal about this too. Well, if we know physics, we can apply here the system of the water cycle in nature. If we go, if we run ahead once again onto the ground of metaphors, we can say: “There is a Torah that is the earthly Torah, which is intended for the revealing of the earth on the earth. There is a heavenly Torah, which for now is kept there, with the Most High, above. After all, with regard to light too, the first light (we will still return to it), there also exists a midrash that this very primordial light the Most High kept there, in the heavens, under His throne.

Thus we can call the second day the day on which the heavens were created. What else can we say about the second day, if we again run ahead or read in modern language? The second day after the Sabbath is Monday. And on this day, unlike the previous day, the Most High did not see that it is “good.” On the second day it is not said that what was made is good. From this was born the Christian notion that “Monday is a hard day.” There is no such blessing on Monday as on Sunday or Tuesday.

The word yikkavú – will flow together into one vessel. The word kav – is in fact a line; kavé – is something that has flowed down into one little puddle, into one vessel; tikvá (hope) comes from this very same word. Tikvá – is the striving not to lose sight of this thread along which we walk, the thread that the Most High gives us, the thread of the Most High’s guidance.

So, a formation takes place, actually the final formation, now of the earth. The water lays bare a certain part of the dry land. Boundaries appear between the water and the dry land.

The earth is almost, almost finished. The heaven above it has already been formed. The continents have already been born. All that remains is to apply the last decorations.

The word déshe can be understood as a general word for every possible kind of vegetation – let vegetation come forth on the earth. That is, the Most High says: “Let grass that sows seed sprout on the earth, and tree-fruit in all its varieties, in which (in the fruit) there will be seed inside”.

In verse 12 we will read for the first time, as a half-hint, that something went wrong with the earth. Let us pay attention to the details.

The Most High commanded that there be etz perí óse perí – tree-fruit, which makes fruit. This can be understood to mean that the Most High wanted the tree itself also to have the taste of the fruit, and to give a similar fruit. The earth, however, makes etz osé-perí, that is, a tree giving fruit. It would seem to be one omitted word, but this is noted as a manifestation on the part of the earth of either “mishearing” or disobedience, which lays down a problem for the man who will be made from the earth (however, we are again running ahead).

So, the third day has ended. Despite a certain inaccuracy, the Most High saw that it is – good.

On the third day the creation of the earth is completed: first – the formation of the continents, when the Most High for the first time said “ki tov” – how good this is, and second – the final finishing work, when the Most High commanded the earth to be covered with vegetation.

So, the earth became ready as a place to live. Now we have learned about what we read in the first verses of the chapter: in the beginning of the creation of the earth and heaven there was created the rakía, which was called heaven, and the continents were born, which the Most High called earth. The Torah announced that there would be an account of the earth and heaven, and here it has told it: in the beginning, in the first three days, the creation of the earth and heaven took place.

It is precisely such a reading of the simple meaning, when something is announced and the Torah says: “Now I will describe this to you” – and describes it, that is quite close to me. I know and understand that there are commentators who say: “This bereshit – in the beginning God created heaven and earth – it is altogether outside the days of creation, and this was before, and the earth and heaven stood and waited for the beginning of creation.” Such an understanding also exists. But it is precisely the overall reading that leads me to the understanding that in the first verse it is announced, it is told: “Now the account will be about the creation of the earth and heaven.” And in the first three days the creation of the earth and heaven is described. It is clear that there will be a further reading, a further development, that the words were not chosen by chance, and in the Gospel of Yochanan in the beginning will also not be by chance. But we, returning again, narrow ourselves down here to the simple meaning, after all we are reading for the first time.

Verse 14 – the beginning of the fourth day. Now – as the Most High was creating the world, He does, as it were, the final finishing work. Look how parallel this will be: the fourth day and the first day. On the first day light was created, everything began with light. About the fourth day we read:

The process of time has been launched, of time that is measured by dynamics. The light, which had been static, became moving light. And the light switched over, came alive through these lights: so the fourth day is parallel to the first. The lights, one could say, became light bulbs of the original light on the created, already finished earth. Here I want to convey this principle about the 6 days of creation: the first 3 days and the second 3 days. The first day in the second triad is parallel to the first day in the first triad of days. And we will yet see these parallels together later on.

And verse 15 goes on to tell about the creation and the purpose of the lights:

Of course, a question arises: it is written “two big ones,” and then it is written “a big one and a little one.” How is this to be understood? There is a famous midrash that says that the moon said: “How can this be? Will there be two kings with one crown?” And the Most High said to her: “You will become smaller, so that this does not happen.” The moon was indignant and said: “How can this be? Because I said a clever thing, I am being punished!” And although this is such an interesting midrash, we are not talking about midrashim now. The two big lights in the firmament – these are two lights that are big in comparison with the stars. One is bigger, the other smaller. But against the background of how we see the stars, both of them are certainly big.

Many try to find dinosaurs here. It is hard to argue that these could not also be dinosaurs, but what is described here is that the Most High created animals of all sizes, in the water and in the sky.

If on the second day the heavens were created, then on the fifth day the heavenly animals were created, that is, animals capable of reaching the sky. Neither man nor any land animals fly by their nature. And since the heavens represent a certain three-dimensionality, the animals created on this day also move not only back and forth and right and left, but are also able to move up and down. On the one hand – the birds, which reach the heights of the heavens, on the other hand – the fish, which reach the depths of the seas. This is a parallel to the second day and, once again, a separation of above and below: here you have the waters that are under the heavens, into which the fish dive. And this is what distinguishes all the living creatures created on the fifth day of creation from those that will be created on the sixth day. On the fifth day those were created who move three-dimensionally, who know height and depth.

There is one more important detail of the fifth day of creation that cannot go unmentioned – this is the blessing. The Most High blesses the fish and the birds. Blesses them to be fruitful and multiply. I very often say that in the Russian language blessing is some kind of good word, similar to the Latin benedictio – good-speaking. In Hebrew blessing – is like plugging into a power outlet. The Most High, as it were, plugged these animals into His bio-network, power grid, and says to them: “Now you, be fruitful and multiply.” For the first time someone received not only a blessing, but also a task. And this always goes together – a task and a blessing. And this is a feature of the fifth day. We will see this on the following days as well. And the blessing we will see again and again throughout all of Scripture.

The sixth day:

So, as we said, this sixth day is parallel to the final polishing in the creation of the earth. And on this day He populates this very polished, completed earth with animals that will walk on the earth. They will not have the possibility to fly, they will not have the possibility to swim. That is, they can swim, but they are not aquatic, they cannot go down into the depths of the water, they are destined to be “tied” to the surface of the earth.

So, the world is almost, almost finished. And the whole Divine plan for creation is almost realized. All this world lacks is… is man.

Na'asé adám – let us create man. The word na'asé is in the plural – We will make. How much has been said on this subject! Someone immediately discerned the trinity in it, saw it and said: “Look, you see, there are three of them!” Someone says that na'asé is the plural of majesty, as the Russian tsar wrote in his time: “We, Nicholas II.” A similar form – the plural of majesty – occurs several more times in the Tanach, and therefore it can quite well be allowed here. Thus, for example, Daniel says: “The meaning of the dream we will tell the king,” also in the plural. Although, for the most part, this refers precisely to God. In the neighboring Semitic languages, among other Semitic peoples, it is also customary that God speaks of Himself in the plural. The same Koran, which we cite here exclusively as a source of grammar, as an example of the language, in no way as an authoritative text, says náchnu (we). That is, such a usage, such a form is quite permissible.

One more option is a certain solemn form: “Attention! Attention! Let all creation, everything that has just been created, look at what is going to happen now!” The solemnity of the moment when the whole world has been prepared as a dwelling, and not only as a dwelling, but also as the place of Adam’s reign. You can say that We na'asé is on behalf of the whole universe, its heavenly part and its earthly one, it is simply a celebration of the universe.

One more understanding of na'asé adám: let us create together with man himself. That is, man, possessing freedom of will, possessing freedom of choice, possessing creative potential, is a co-participant of the Creator in his own creation (later, when we speak about the concept dmút (likeness), we will touch on this in a little more detail). Man shapes himself as a man, makes himself more human or more divine, you can look at it this way and that way, but this, after all, is no longer the simple meaning of the text.

The Most High proclaims and says: “Na'asé adám (Let us create man) betzalménu (by Our image) kidmuténu (here the preposition כִּ (ki) means as) as Our likeness or according to Our likeness, or so that he would be Our likeness”. Often it is translated “according to Our image and according to Our likeness.” Pay attention, there are two different prepositions here. The first is בְּ (be), betzalménu, we already spoke about it at the very beginning. This can be “by Our image as by an instrument,” that is, “with the help of Our image,” with the help of a certain device that is called tzélem, perhaps a kind of template or some little mold for cutting out shortbread dough. You can fantasize anything you like. But, indeed, you can translate here – by Our image, according to Our likeness. Again we say (we are used to saying): “man was created according to Our image and likeness.” There is no “and” here! Here you can say “by image, as by likeness,” you can say “in the image, as in the likeness.” And you can translate it in different ways.

Tzélem is form. Words semantically close to the word tzélem are, for example, tzel (shadow) or tzaláf (sniper) – the one who hits the needed point. That is, tzélem is the precisely conveyed form of some object, or a precisely preserved, precisely defined form of something.

Dmut is likeness, congruence, the ability to be similar. If we speak about the word adám, you can also find this very root in it. Adam is the one who will become like, that is: “Let us make a ‘resembler.’” The name Adám, we have just read it so easily right now. When we read it for the first time, Adám can be translated in the simplest meaning (as biblical critics usually like to do) – ruddy. Adám can be translated as the one who will become like. Adám can be translated as the one who will be able to fantasize. To fantasize means to create, to invent something new. There is so much in this!

 You can say: “We will create man who will be like Us, and will fantasize, will be a creator just like Us.” Here is exactly that very case when the simple meaning itself allows a mass of different interpretations.

You can say: “We will create man the creator, man according to Our image, as Our likeness, like Us, so that he, like Us, would do what? – would rule!”

The enumeration of man’s potential subjects goes in the order in which they were created. From the very beginning, creating the luminaries, creating time, the Most High provided for the framework of man’s existence, for it is precisely man who will have these signs of days and seasons. And, creating the animals, He created them so that man would reign over them. And here we see, the animals are listed in the order in which they were created.

The Most High says: “I will make him reign over the fish, and over the birds, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over all the creeping things, creeping on the earth”. This is the purpose of the creation of man.

In the second chapter we will read everything very-very-very-very thoroughly – how it was, and why it was this way and not otherwise. But you and I have not read the second chapter yet, and have not even glanced in there out of the corner of our eye, that is what we agreed on. Therefore for now the Most High says this: “I will create man so that he would be the house manager in this very wonderful house that I created in two stages. First I built it, then I decorated it in the same order.” We talked about these levels. Here is the completion, the cherry on the cake of the Universe. This is Adam, who will manage all of this.

 We have already said that betzalmó – this is with the help of His tzélem , or according to His tzélem. It is very important that the intention in verse 26 was to create betzélem kidmút, that is, to create by image (or according to the image), as likeness. In this verse it does not say as likeness. And many say that as likeness is possibly what man still has to manifest. The LORD created him betzélem, so that man himself would decide to be kidmút, would himself decide to become like the Most High. In his original potential this is not forced, this is not written in: it is a question of his choice.

To these concepts, betzélem and kidmút (or as it will sound otherwise – bedmút and kitzelém) we will return in chapter 5. There, as these words are used, we will analyze them again and answer the question why it is written this way here and otherwise there, why the word order changed there and why the prepositions were swapped. But again, you and I have not yet read the fifth chapter.

Originally Adam is not a boy, it is not Chava’s husband. Originally Adam is a boy and a girl, a man and a woman together. In the second and third chapters (again I will run ahead, what else can I do) we will see how they separated, but for now we read: zachár unkevá bará otám – man and woman He created them. Originally He created them – man and woman. There is one Adam, and this is a man and a woman. This is what we are reading now. What will be next, we will find out next.

The earth will not be subdued by itself, subdue it, that is, remake it in your own way. We will still see this, but here is such an interesting example: the further civilization moves, the more straight forms there are. The Most High created a world in which there are practically no straight lines. Neither in the animal world, nor in the plant world. It would seem the simplest solution is a straight line. No, the Most High does not have this. And man, filling the earth, transforming the earth (according to one of the versions, according to one of the views), fills it with his straight lines. And in this way subdues it. That is, creation still has to submit to man. We will return to this once more in chapter 2, in more detail. Urdú bidgát hayám – rule, act as dictators, rule with an iron hand. The word lerdót means serious, harsh, dominating rule. Rodán (dictator) – comes from this same root.

So, everything is finished: there is a world, there is a master of this world. Now gasoline is needed, fuel, batteries to sustain this whole mechanism.

Why do they say: sowing seed? The grass will be replenished. The system is set up so that the fuel does not need to be topped up. The grass will be replenished over all the earth.

And it became so – that is, the animal world adapted to receiving its energy and its strength from plants. Before this, apparently, they did not feed directly for several days and, at least for several hours, they fed on the strength, the energy of God. We talk about this a lot, as a kind of midrash, that man lives not by bread itself, but by the word of God (so in the desert the man came down from heaven). Before this, in the process of creation, the animals received food through those very words by which they were created.

This is a short, succinct, vivid description of the chapter. As I promised, I tried not to go deep into the hidden meanings, but to talk about the simple meaning. I hope the simple meaning also turned out to be interesting to you.

In chapter 1, which probably everyone knows and remembers, the subject was the six days of Creation, the making of everything that we call nature, and the creation of man. The first verses of our second chapter, as it were, complete what was said in the first.

The word vaychullú means were completed, like the passive voice was born, but it can also be translated as got itself born; here there is a peculiar kind of transition: on the one hand, they were completed, on the other hand, they received a certain independence, or completeness. When I say I got myself born, despite this -self at the end, I did not give birth to myself, but from this moment I enter as “I” and begin to be myself. And, to return to our verse as applied to heaven and earth, they acquired wholeness, acquired existence – heaven and earth, and all their host.

The overwhelming majority translate imprecisely here: completed by the seventh day. Because, of course, the continuation of this verse presses on us, which says: “And the LORD rested on the seventh day” or “And the LORD reposed on the seventh day.” But in fact the text says (and gives no reason for this second understanding): “On the seventh day the LORD completed all his work that He had been doing.” It is precisely the seventh day, as the day of rest, that completes, consummates the whole creation. Without this day of rest, without the seventh day, which will crown creation, it is not complete; therefore it is precisely on the seventh day that the Most High completed all the work that He had been doing. The word shvitá today means strike, stoppage of work. Here there is no rest that would correspond to tiredness; the word lishbót is precisely to cease work, that is, He did not rest, did not relax in some way, God forbid. He precisely ceased all the work that He had been doing.

Stopped everything that was being created and done, or everything that was created in order to do. That is, the Most High created a mechanism that is supposed to start working. Bará – created something that later on will la'asót – do, that is, launched a working mechanism. And therefore He blessed this day, and in the blessing of this day is also the blessing of all creation; after all, we said that Shabbat is the crown of creation, all creation is blessed on Shabbat. There are brother comrades and just plain comrades who say: “We will rest on the seventh day, and it will be Sunday, we choose Sunday.” And you can choose as much as you like, as they say, have it your way, but the Most High says: “I blessed the seventh day.” First – blessed, second – sanctified, that is, set it apart for Himself. Set it apart as that which He wants to see as the result, the essence of creation, the summit of the union of creation with the Creator. One can say that the day when the Creator is satisfied with creation – this is the day of oneness of creation and the Creator. This day, thus, – is a blessed, sanctified day, designated by God. You can choose any other day you like and bless it, hallow it, but God blesses and hallows precisely the Sabbath day. Whether we want this or not, and whatever other days we might suddenly, God forbid, want to celebrate, the Most High says: “I blessed the Sabbath day, I sanctified the Sabbath day. I come to you on a date, to a meeting with you on My Sabbaths. This is not your Sabbath, not your Sabbath, it is given to you, but it is My Sabbath, it is the day of meeting with Me. I have made a date with you on the Sabbath, and if you come on another day – well, have it your way.”

This is the 3rd verse of the 2nd chapter, and it, in fact, crowns the theme of the first chapter. Seven days – the complete creation of the world. Very many peoples retained traces of this; we often read in the mythology of Babylon, Sumer, Akkad about various gods who build something in six days and rest on the seventh, and so on. For some this is a pretext to accuse the Jews of plagiarism, to say: well, there you go, you stole this from the Akkadians, from the Sumerians or maybe from someone else. But this shows that humanity remembered the Sabbath. How much time passed from Adam to the giving of the Torah? 26 generations. That is not so much that one would lose the whole history, the whole tradition. Of course, something became mythology, something was distorted, something became overgrown with distortions, but nevertheless the memory remained. Seven days is a span of time that was hallowed throughout the whole Near East; throughout the whole region we see traces of the remembrance that seven days are a special period of time.

From the fourth verse a completely different theme begins, although it may also seem to us a repetition of the previous one. Let us read.

If in the previous chapter we read only elohim – only God, then here for the first time the LORD appears. God is revealed in the four-letter Name, which Jews traditionally call HaShém – simply the Name. In fact this is the only word that it is forbidden to pronounce in the Hebrew language. We do not have any tabooed sacred vocabulary, there is only this word, which the priest pronounced when entering the Holy of Holies. And whoever tells you that his name was Jehovah, and whoever tells you that his name was Yahweh or something else – they are all mistaken and do not know the correct pronunciation, and the one who knows it simply will not say it. It is customary to refrain from pronouncing this Name, therefore in the New Testament, in the Greek texts, it was always called the LORD or Adonai (which we will do too), and in colloquial speech it is called HaShém – That very Name.

In the first part we read: here is the genealogy. Genealogy tells us that some scheme of development over many generations has already appeared. Here we see that creation is already being described through the eyes of man, from the point of view of the place that man occupies in it. Why at the end of the verse do we read earth and heaven, and not heaven and earth, as at the beginning of the verse? Because for man the earth is much closer, we live on the earth, it is our habitat, and not only our habitat, but also our workplace, the place of service. Therefore for man there will now follow a story about what the place of man in all this is. Of course, there are different approaches to why this and other stories that the Torah tells are repeated twice. And, to explain this repetition, some researchers of the Torah (mostly unbelievers), say that the Torah has several authors, that it consists of several different, or perhaps even several dozen different sources. And so there is an author who uses the name Elohim, and there is an author who uses the name LORD Elohim. Someone compiled these sources and out of several books glued together one such book, in which, through his sluggishness or carelessness, plots are repeated. What don’t they say! I deeply believe that the Torah has one author, and when the Torah repeats something twice, there is some more hidden meaning in it than compilation. In this case one can say that this is written from the point of view of man. One can also speak of there being a design and the realization of the design, and as we read the chapter we will talk about this further.

Here we immediately read that the earth gives its fruits when man works it. If man does not work the earth, then, as one can understand it here, nothing grows at all. Not that only dandelions, field plants, medicinal plants or burdock, or something else would grow – nothing grew as long as there was no man. This partly contradicts what we read earlier. Earlier we read that plants were created before man and animals were created before man. Why do we read it this way here? We will sort it out as we go, for now let us continue reading.

That is, there were some underwater springs that constantly raised vapor; there was a constant water supply from below. What is the difference between áretz and adamá? Áretz is earth as a planet, as the universe; adamá is the material, it is more soil, ground.

So, we have read that God created the earth on which nothing grows, because there is no rain on it and no man who will cultivate it. And, it would seem, if I am a reader who has opened the Torah for the first time, I know what is happening around me, I will now read about how God created man and made rain, man began to work the land, and everything got going the way I know it. But, contrary to our expectations, we read something completely different.

The word yitzár means to give form, to shape. That is, the Most High molded the body of Adam from the dust of the earth, apparently moistened by the vapor; from hot, wet earth He molded man. This was the earthly beginning, the earthly blank. He breathed into him the breath of life, in essence, breathed into him His spirit, into his nostrils He blew His inner essence. Man will differ from all the animals in that he thinks not only about sustaining life. He can see beauty, can admire something, rejoice in something, can create what is not necessary for him for life. Man is a creator, he has aesthetics, he has a desire to change himself in some way and to transform the world, and in this lies the distinctiveness of man. Man is the only being, as we have read up to now, into whom the Most High breathed His Spirit. Thus man became a being that unites two natures in itself. If the angels, about whom we have not yet read anything at all, are completely heavenly, and the animals, which we have talked about, are completely earthly, then man unites in himself the heavenly and the earthly. What comes next? Perhaps the Most High will say to man: “Well, go now, cultivate the land, and there will be rain.” That is, as we read earlier, nothing grew because there was no rain, because there was no man who would come to cultivate the land. Now there is man, and consequently one can expect that right now he will be sent to this work.

The word éden is close to the modern Hebrew word éden or édna – delight, moisture, tenderness; it all comes from the very same root. But in the ancient languages éden rather denoted steppe, some wide open spaces, fairly moist, but with sparse vegetation. Actually, what vegetation are we talking about, if we have already been warned that there is no vegetation at all? So, the LORD God built, set up an oasis in the steppe from the east.

Pay attention (this will also be very important later on for understanding): man is not a citizen of Eden, man was not born in the Garden of Eden, he was placed there.

In the previous chapter we talked about the fact that the earth brought forth trees not the way God wanted, that the taste of the tree itself was not like the taste of the fruit. Here we are talking about the fact that the Most High caused to grow a tree pleasant for food, that is, the tree itself was tasty. In this very garden which the Most High planted, unlike everything else, the tree was the way it had been planned.

How many different variants and suppositions have been proposed and supposed concerning what the Tree of knowledge of good and evil is. The expression to know good and evil itself is used in the Tanach several more times. For example, in the second book of Shmuel (19:32) Barzillai the Giladite says: “I am already too old to know good and evil.” And on the basis of this and of other details that we will read later on, some commentators concluded that this is a tree of desire, a tree of sexual desire, which will awaken if one eats of it, a sort of paradisiacal aphrodisiac.

Other commentators said that since it is said: “you are like an angel who knows good and evil,” the Tree of knowledge of good and evil is simply a tree of omniscience, a tree of knowledge that also places a certain responsibility on man. There is no unambiguous answer as to what it is. I am inclined to think that it really is a tree of evaluating one’s own deeds, of the ability to act badly or well, a reasoning that will replace man’s natural inclination. So that, having the Torah written on the heart, man would instinctively, at the level of reflex, act in accordance with the will of God. Instead of taking upon himself the decision to evaluate the will of God with his own common sense, which is a dead-end idea. Of course, I think, as many people, so many opinions concerning what kind of tree this is. I do not want to argue with anyone, and it is quite possible that in a year I will understand this story completely differently, just as several years ago I understood it differently. That is why we read the Torah constantly, in order to constantly rethink it.

So, the Most High Himself planted the garden, instead of man doing it, as we expected. And the Most High planted in the garden a multitude of different trees, which are either pleasant to look at (that is, you can sit there in the shade, a tree-gazebo), or pleasant to the taste, and perhaps every tree combines in itself both the one and the other. There are no inconvenient trees, there is nothing unnecessary, no poplar fluff that causes an allergy in somebody – there is nothing like that. Everything is very convenient, a very beautiful Garden of Paradise. Looking ahead: what else is not in this Garden of Paradise, but is in the universe as such? In this Garden of Paradise we see neither sun, nor moon, nor stars. In the book of Devarim (4:19) we read: “And lest you look up at the sky, and see the sun, and the moon, and the stars, all the host of heaven, and be enticed, and bow down to them, and serve that which the LORD your God has allotted to all the peoples under heaven.” And here we see a hint that the stars and the hosts of heaven are in some way related to the peoples of the world. In the book of the prophet Yeshayahu (60:19–20) it is said about the people of Israel that for it there will be no sun and there will be no sunlight: “The sun will no longer be the light of day for you, and the brightness of the moon will not shine for you, but the LORD will be an everlasting light for you, and Elohim will be your splendor. Your sun will no longer go down, and your moon will not withdraw, for the LORD will be an everlasting light for you, and the days of your mourning will come to an end.” If we see the prototype of the coming paradise land in this Garden of Paradise and (as we will see later on) the prototype of éretz Yisrael in this coming Garden of Paradise, then much will fall into place for us. We talked about the general creation of the whole earth, about the planet Earth. Now we are talking about the special care that the Most High has for a special corner of the earth, where there was nothing until man appeared there, where man appears who unites in himself the heavenly and the earthly, where the very place that God chose will unite in itself the heavenly and the earthly. We will come back to this comparison: what there is and what there is not in the Garden of Eden and in the creation as it is described in the first chapter of the book of Bereshit.

Not only did the Most High not arrange rains that would depend on the behavior of man, the Most High gave a river that will go out from Eden. Again: what is not in the Garden of Eden? There is no sea, that is, all the water is sweet, fresh, fit for drinking. Remember with what bitterness Kohelet exclaims: “All the rivers go to the sea, and the sea is not filled!” All the sweet water becomes salty, and this is an endless, dreary, sad process. Here we see that in the Garden of Paradise there is only sweet water, in this world there is no sea either, and earlier we read that the gathering of the waters was called sea. These branches, these four rivers will describe for us, will outline for us the border of the Garden of Paradise. And again: in the first chapter we did not read about any borders, nothing is outlined there, nothing is bounded. There it is about the creation as a whole. Here for the first time we see clearly outlined borders.

There are many different versions about what this river is – from the Ganges to the Blue Nile; some other rivers are named too. Where has the Garden of Paradise not been found, including even on Fiji. The version close to me is that Pishon and Gichon, two rivers that are hard to identify geographically here, are the Blue and the White Nile, which merge into one Nile, the stream of Egypt. Both religious commentators and researchers of the history of Israel hold this opinion. One can also rely on the fact that in early Arabic literature the White Nile is called Jihon and the Blue Nile is called Fisan, and that means we have parallels to this identification. Then it turns out that the rivers that outline the territory for us, two branches of one river, outline for us the border of the Promised Land, that is, of that very land that will later be promised to Israel – from the river of Egypt to the river Euphrates. Many times we encounter the word áretz not simply in the meaning earth, but in the meaning of the land of Israel, and many examples of this can be given. And if we analyze everything said here and above, then one can see that the Garden of Paradise is a prototype, possibly also a geographical one, of the land of Israel, of the place where the people will for the first time be set to the service of the Most High. Therefore, until man appeared there, the plants did not appear there either; this is a special nature, a special providence of the Most High concerning the land of Israel. Therefore with the animals too everything there is not as in the first chapter of the book of Bereshit.

So, the name of the first river is Pishon. And again concerning the geographical notions that are used here. There are many different versions, theories and, I am not afraid of this word, speculations. I am inclined to think that Chavila is part of the Arabian Peninsula, precisely where one of the branches of the Nile flows.

In modern Hebrew the word bdólach means crystal; in biblical Hebrew it most likely means some kind of aromatic resin, one of the expensive aromatic resins.

As I already said, according to the assumptions with which I am inclined to agree, Gichon is the second branch of the Nile. They merge later into one stream. Again: there are very many different versions; it is often so when no one knows the right answer, and therefore I see no point in arguing about this. There are other opinions, and it is impossible in any way to prove that one is right or to refute it.

The White Nile, which we talked about, begins in Ethiopia, flows out of Ethiopia and merges with the remaining part of the Nile, and by the land of Kush here one can quite well understand Ethiopia or another country precisely from that region, because the names were often mixed up. I like the idea very much (therefore I hold to it when reading) that it is precisely the borders of the Promised Land that are being talked about.

We have roughly outlined the borders of the Garden of Paradise.

To work – this is clear, a garden requires working. But to guard it from whom, who could possibly attack the garden of the Most High? Well, of course, to guard the garden means to keep it, to preserve it, to take care of every little tree and to see that all the trees grow, have enough light, to trim the branches, maybe, and so on. That is, man, one could say it in modern language, is taken on as a “guest worker,” a hired worker, taken as the manager of the Garden of Paradise, such an invited manager. But the notion to guard, I think, has one more such layer that can be singled out. The thing is that everything began with man having to work the ground himself. Here a garden is planted; moreover, when we speak about the trees of this garden, there is not a word here about seeds – again, in contrast to the first chapter. In this garden there is no sowing, the trees and everything else grow by themselves – just keep it. That is, man, as such a gift, is placed in a special land, in a special favor of the Most High. He is already placed inside the Divine nature, and one can guard one’s participation in this nature, guard this gift of the Divine presence on earth, the existence of a Divine garden on earth, guard oneself in this garden so as not to end up expelled from it, as in the end it actually turned out (again I am running ahead, because everyone knows this, unfortunately, sad ending).

This, and this is the most interesting thing, is the very first commandment that the Most High gave man. Usually, if you ask what the first commandment is, people say: “Be fruitful and multiply.” Be fruitful and multiply – this is a blessing. Others say that the very first commandment that the LORD gave man is “do not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” This is also incorrect. As we read, the first commandment is “eat!” For example, if Chaim ate an orange, then the orange rose to the level of Chaim, became Chaim. And in exactly the same way the man Adam must eat from every tree in the garden in order to raise everything living to his level. And what is his level? His level is that of a being in contact with the Most High, and through this everything begins to enter into contact with the Most High; it is precisely Adam who is conceived as a kind of little bridge. And the Most High, as a kind Master of the world (like a grandmother whom you have come to visit, and she has prepared thirty-five salads, and she will be offended if, God forbid, you try thirty-four and do not try the thirty-fifth), in his hospitality toward this guest worker Adam says: “Try, Adamchik, try, dear, from each of the trees.”

For now, as we read this, we cannot understand what you will die by death means. We will talk about this in more detail in the third chapter. It is not yet clear, and Adam himself does not yet know what death is, by which he will die if he, God forbid, eats from this tree. And there seems to be such a contradiction: from all the trees eat and from this tree do not eat. Most likely, the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil could have been eaten after Adam had tasted the Tree of life. It will be ready as food only after man comes to know the Torah. If we say that the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil is a tree that allows one to perform actions and make decisions with the help of one’s own reason, then in order to do this correctly a tool such as the Torah is needed, and it is quite possible that such is the design of the Most High here. We will still talk about this, but for now there remains such an unclear element of the plot.

So, man is placed in the Garden of Paradise; he is given the work of guarding it and working it. Permission is given, a commandment is given to eat from all the trees of the garden, and it is forbidden (or he is temporarily restricted in the possibility) to eat from the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

This is often translated as it is not good for man to be alone. But in fact it is good for man to be alone. I know many people who arrange their lives very well in solitude. And I know people who suffer in families. For man by his nature, as he himself would like it, it is good to be alone, but, if we remember, man consists of male and female (so far this is all we have read about man). Man consists of a man and a woman, and so far we have not read anything else. The word levadó can be understood as in a joining, in a fastening, and therefore one can say it like this: “It is not good for man to be in a folded, in a closed state; let us take him apart into a male and a female component.”

The word kenegdó can be translated as corresponding to him, and can be translated as opposing him. Naturally, the sages commented on this and said: “If a man is worthy, she is a helper to him; if he is not worthy, she is his opponent, she is against him.” But here, most likely, we will see, we will see now and we will see further on, that what is meant is a helper, that the Most High sees the amount of work that lies before man (in light of the tasks that God gave him), and says that it would be good to give him a helper. Before this happens, a completely unexpected turn of events occurs, in verse 19.

Once again we run into a serious contradiction between what we read here, in the second chapter, and what we read a chapter earlier. But let us pay attention not only to the chronology but also to other differences. Here there are, for example, no creatures creeping on the earth, there are no fish here, the Most High does not create anything of that kind here – only birds and only animals, among which a helper for the man is sought. And again, one of the possible understandings: in the land of Israel, in this Garden of Paradise, in this model of service, in the prototype of the first, one could say, Temple of Paradise, there is a special providence of the Most High and a slightly different chronology. That is, the man in nature – he is incubator-bred, “raised” in an incubator of the kind that is called “the Garden of Paradise,” and in it the animals are “raised” too. Possibly only those animals that are intended for domestication, among which one can also look for some kind of partnership. And therefore this contradiction again leads us to the thought that we are talking about a certain regional providence, about a human corner in this great boundless nature, about a corner for the man marked out by completely clear boundaries.

So, specially for Adam, who was placed in service in Gan Éden (the Garden of Paradise), the Most High brings forth certain animals from the earth of the Garden of Paradise.

The Most High teaches the man to single out the essence from diversity. In the first chapter we read: the plant world is created, the animal world is created – animals, plants. “What is the animal world of Australia like?” – “Animals live there.” “And what is the plant world of Australia like?” – “Plants grow there.” This is how someone can talk who does not live there, does not come into contact and does not know, is not ready to engage and to manage. In order to manage, you have to distinguish, you need to tell about each little critter separately, examine it, look at its properties. The man ends up in a school-zoo, in which he singles out specific animals from the mass of the animal world, looks at what is divided and by which essences. And to each animal he must give a name, that is, look at what suits it, what is in tune with it. Who else gives names to his subordinates? A king. We read a lot in Scripture that a king, when he takes for himself a captive or a subject, gives him some new name. A name that will correspond to the criteria of this person's service in the kingdom. And here it is the same: Adam is charged with revealing the essence of each animal in the kingdom that he has taken upon himself.

Adam too is learning to manage the world, learning to understand what one can interact with only partially, and what one can interact with in all fullness. One can, of course, make friends with a dog, a horse, a camel or a cow and use them in service, but cooperation with them will not work out. Revealing all these essences, Adam saw that none of the animals suited him. This is not a process of the Most High searching for a mate for Adam, this is a demonstration to Adam of the possibility of building some kind of relationships with the animal world, with someone else who is not he. And when he goes through this school, he is already, one could say, ready for family life, and then the Most High performs a surgical operation.

Traditionally the word tzéla is translated as rib. Most likely this is the result of an error, and the very last thing the word tzéla means is rib. There are different versions. In ancient translations the word aléya or fat tail is used (this is a kind of fatty appendage on the tail of a ram). Of course, such an aspect may seem unpleasant, that it is from this little piece here that the woman was created. But this is the sweetest, the most caloric, the softest part of the carcass, the softest part of the body of the man, of Adam. Today there is no such part. That is, the woman was created from Adam's “little tail.” Another version says that the word tzéla simply means side, as if they had been fused together, like Siamese twins. The Most High separated one from the other and let this flesh grow back together. There are several more different versions. I would settle on the version, and I hold to it following the Talmud, following the classical understanding of the word tzéla, that this is some kind of fatty little piece that Adam had. Well, and a woman is not hard like a bone, after all (sisters are, after all, soft), and this too should not be forgotten. In short, discussions about the word tzéla are going on, do not rush to think that it is a rib.

An interesting word, yíven – reconstructed, created. This points to a very complex kind of work, precisely such design work in construction. If the human, the man (adam), is simply molded, then the woman is constructed, she is built, she is built in a very complex and wondrous way, and the mechanism of her construction is far more complex than that of the adam.

Another interpretation of the word yíven, also very interesting: braided a braid. Indeed, livnót means to braid a braid. It sounds very interesting and beautiful, in my view, that the first braid on earth was braided for a woman by the Most High Himself.

Here I would like to dwell on two important details. As I said at the very beginning, Adam is a kind of guest worker, he was taken into Gan Éden. The woman, however, was born in Gan Éden, she has citizenship there. What does this mean? If a guest worker behaves not very well, he can be kicked out of Gan Éden. The woman cannot be kicked out of Gan Éden, she has citizenship there. That is, if I commit some crime in my country, I can be fined, put in prison, even, God forbid, in some places put in the electric chair, but I cannot be stripped of citizenship, thrown out of the country – unlike a guest worker. And it is the same with the woman and the man. The man, he is one of those who “came flocking in” to Gan Éden, while the woman, she was born there. This is the first important detail.

The second interesting and important detail: in fact, it is nowhere written that Adam woke up when the Most High brought sleep upon him. Well, of course, as readers we can guess that he woke up, but it is nowhere written, and one can also reflect on this: isn't he dreaming of the woman? So, the Most High brings the woman to Adam, and Adam begins to sing a joyful song.

In translation this gets completely lost, but Adam speaks here in ancient verse, it really is a joyful song.

So, Adam says: “This is bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, she will be called by the word ishá (woman), because she was taken from ish (man).” If in Hebrew, say, bull is par, then cow is pará, or, for example, ram is kéves, and ewe is kivsá, and one can say that this is how the feminine gender is formed with the little letter ה (hei), and therefore this is how woman is formed from man, it is simply the formation of the feminine gender. In fact, this is not quite word formation, it is rather a play on words. The word ish comes from the root oshésh (strong or to give strength); the word ishá comes from the root anúsh (weak and to be weak), and such an assonance, such a pun was born here, that these words ish and ishá occur together as the name for a boy and a girl. But in essence Adam is saying that she arouses the desire to protect her: “I will protect her, she will be weak, because she was taken from the strong one. And my first desire is to protect her, my first aspiration with regard to her is to protect, to guard, to preserve, to treat her tenderly, and everything else.” These really are two different words, two different roots: anashím and nashím, in the plural. And the most interesting thing is that the word enoshút (humankind) is translated literally as “weakkind,” that is, the whole assembly of people is named not after the men, not by the name of men, but by the name of women.

And the Torah says further:

What is missing here compared to what was in the first chapter? Here there is no be fruitful and multiply. If the first chapter is nature, whose very structure implies being fruitful and multiplying, then here – just look what romance there is here: “I will allow her to be weak, because I am strong. She is bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh. And we will unite and return into one flesh.”

They were both naked, he and his wife, and were not ashamed – some say that, of course, they could not have had any intimate life in paradise, because what passion could there be in paradise, and without passion there can be no intimate life. Others say that they did have a sexual life in paradise, but it was precisely like this – passionless, only for the sake of fulfilling the commandment, without some kind of false sensuality. These commentaries seem strange to me. Close to me is a third approach, which says that they had love, and passion, and romance, and attraction to each other. And why then were they not ashamed of each other, where does such freedom come from – not to cover oneself? It is because there were no bars, there was nothing they could achieve or fail to achieve, no requirement, no criterion that they could meet or fail to meet: for it is precisely this that the knowledge of tov ve ra (good and evil). puts forward. And therefore they could be unashamed of each other’s nakedness. And Adam’s song “This time this is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh” can be called the first romantic song. Yes, I also ran ahead, I know what will be written in the fourth chapter: “Adam knew his wife.” We will read up to there and talk about this there once more. Do not hurry to bring me this quotation, I remember that it is precisely there that “knew” is written about.

This is the story of the second chapter. I think that this is a prototype of the land of Israel, a prototype of the holy people in holy service, but we agreed not to run ahead. We are reading here the romantic story of mankind, the story of how good everything could have been, how romantically good everything began.

The third chapter of the book of Bereshit has an unusual destiny. Probably, I say about every chapter that it is unusual. In the Torah there are verses and chapters that are covered with moss or dust, because nobody likes to quote them, they are rarely remembered. There are verses in Scripture that have turned into stones; they are often used to throw at enemies, sinners and all sorts of other wicked people. These are very convenient verses, like pebbles, they fit well in the hand and fly far. There are verses that have turned into sabers: with sabers drawn you can charge at theological opponents, at opponents in theological disputes. For more refined people there are verses that have turned into cards of one degree of trumpness or another, and in a theological dispute you can lead with a serious, weighty trump card and take many tricks, so to speak, win in a theological dispute. Different verses are used for different purposes and are commented on accordingly, to one degree or another, more or less.

The third chapter of the book of Bereshit describes, undoubtedly, the most tragic situation, the most tragic events in the history of mankind. These events have influenced you and me as well, and are influencing us, and will influence us further and further still. Undoubtedly, this chapter became the foundation for many beliefs and for many teachings. It has become so overgrown, so covered with commentaries and interpretations (and how can one not interpret and comment here, if the events are truly important?), people have already seen so much in it, so many images and pictures of every kind, that it is hard behind all this clothing, this vesture of this chapter – with all respect to the tailors who clothed and vested it – it is hard behind all this to see the simplest, the most original meaning. It is hard to give up all the garments, all the commentaries that we already know about precisely this, such an important chapter. And nevertheless, although people complain about me that I do not reveal the hidden meaning, and do not reveal Mashiach in the Torah, and that there should be more about Mashiach and less about the simple meaning, because the simple meaning is only a tutor (I know all this, I remember all this), nevertheless, I will repeat: I believe that there is no getting away from the simple meaning. Reflecting on the simple meaning, everyone will find both Mashiach and some hidden meanings – all of this will be discovered. But you and I will nevertheless try, and I propose that you forget everything you have read before about the third chapter, forget everything you thought, give up the expectation of seeing in it Satan, or the Pope of Rome, or Putin, or the devil, or anyone else, and read it as though we had read only the first two chapters of the Torah. This is the journey I propose that you set out on. If you don’t like it, as the saying goes, don’t listen, and we will begin with the very first verse.

Let us analyze this in a little more detail. We remember from the previous chapter that it was Adam who gave names to the animals. The Most High brought the animals to him, and, apparently, on the basis of some acquaintance with the essence of the beasts, Adam gave these beasts names. These are not simply random names. The name nachásh (serpent) comes from the same root as the verb lenachésh – to reflect, to penetrate, to penetrate into the essence of things, to guess something, to reach some depth of thought. Having become acquainted with the serpent, Adam gave him such a name – “know-it-all” or “understand-it-all”. And again, since these animals were called to cooperate in some way, to help man in some way in his service, although they are not fully a match for him, so the serpent too was called into service, perhaps with his mind. He was more cunning than all the beasts of the field, more cunning or smarter. The word arúm in the Aramaic texts in this place is translated as chákim – simply wise. In the previous chapter, when we read about Adam and his wife, that they were naked, the very same word is used in the plural – arumím (naked), and one could translate here like this: and the serpent was the most naked of all the animals. But we have already seen puns or wordplay more than once in the first chapters of the book of Bereshit. And therefore it is reasonable to use another understanding of this word, which also exists: the serpent is the smartest of all the beasts. This is the beginning.

There is a peculiarity of the grammatical form. One could say this: vayihí nachásh – and the serpent was the smartest of all the animals. But here there is a grammatical form which is, as it were, past in the past tense: and the serpent had been the smartest of all the animals. That is, even before this whole story the serpent was the smartest, and he would have been king, would have “strutted about like a peacock,” would have eaten from all the trees of the garden, perhaps a wife would also have been created for him, if man had not appeared. Naturally, the serpent wants to walk upright, like man, and, perhaps, to eat from all the trees of the garden, to rule over all the animals and to have communion with a wife too, for he is the smartest, after all – if not for man. Here is healthy competition for you.

And the serpent begins a conversation with the woman, and says to her: “Did the LORD really say – do not eat from any trees in the garden?” Did God really say that one may not eat at all? What is this about? How can it be – one may not eat at all? How can it be – God forbade eating? God, on the contrary, commanded eating, and I tried to explain the nature of this, saying that when a man eats something, this something becomes part of the man. Further: when a man has eaten an apple, and the apple has become man, and the man turns to the Most High in prayer or even works the ground, for which God placed him there, he serves the Most High with this very apple, and in this way the apple is elevated and raised up. One could have connected man directly to the batteries of the Most High, and man would feed on the Word of God directly, without needing this whole cycle of the Word of God. Does this world have functions for the Most High? – That is actually what the serpent asked. Is it necessary to eat at all, is this world needed at all in order to be people? Is it necessary in this world to be a God-man, one who feeds from the trees of the garden and serves the LORD? Or to be like angels, and there is no need to eat at all? Or to be like little animals, and not serve the Most High in some special way, having some special commands? The question of the cooperation of the rational mind and philosophy, on the one hand, with prophecy, with serving the Most High, with the Divine mind on the other hand. Perhaps God said: “Be purely spiritual, live exclusively by spirituality”? The serpent turns man, the wife in this case, to the rational, so to speak, mind. The serpent is wise, but he is an animal, he has no connection with the Divine. I will repeat once more: this is the beginning of the dialogue between the rational animal mind and the Divine mind, between common sense and prophecy, connection with the Most High. The serpent says: “Is this world needed at all? If you are such prophets, do you need this world?”

Pay attention to what the woman says, namely to several, let us say, small inaccuracies. In verse 9 of the previous chapter we read that the Most High planted a garden and planted in it the Tree of life, in the very center of the garden, and the Tree of knowledge of good and evil. In the very center of the garden grows not the Tree of knowledge of good and evil, but the Tree of life. And the wife says here that the Most High forbade eating precisely of the fruits of the tree which is in the center of the garden. That is, first: in the center of the garden is the Tree of life.

Second. In Bereshit (2:17) it is written: “… and of the Tree of knowledge of good and evil do not eat of it.” Here, though, the woman tells us: “Of the fruits of the tree, do not eat of it.” Again, for who knows how many times now, the tree and the fruits of the tree come up mixed together in the text. We remember the story of the very first chapter, verses 11 and 12, when the earth carries out the word of God not the way the LORD tells it, when the Most High said: “Make etz perí óse perí” – “Make a tree-fruit giving fruit”. But the earth makes simply a tree giving fruit. Unlike what the Most High commanded the earth in the first chapter, the taste of the tree and the taste of the fruit turn out different, the tree came out tasteless. When in the second chapter we read that the Most High planted a garden, there the taste of the tree and the taste of the fruit were the same, we noted that too. And the Most High forbade eating of the tree. Here, though, we read that the woman says of the fruits of the tree. And this is not some trifle that we can skip over.

Third, what the woman says – she says: “And it is forbidden to touch this tree,” although no one had forbidden touching. That is, the woman also expands the boundaries of the prohibition.

And again, as for the tree. Which tree, after all, grows in the center of the garden – the Tree of life or the Tree of knowledge of good and evil? One can say that the tree in the center of the garden is not, strictly geometrically, some one small point that is the center of the garden, and that in the center of the garden two trees grow, and the woman simply means the other tree. Another understanding: other commentators say that, in fact, the Tree of life and the Tree of knowledge of good and evil are one and the same tree, the whole question is with what approach, so to speak, with what inner request you eat from this tree. One way or another, the problem remains, because in this whole chapter the tree will be called neither the Tree of life nor the Tree of knowledge of good and evil, all the time they will speak about “that tree.” This too is such a not unimportant fact.

So, the woman said: “Of the fruits of the tree which is in the center of the garden, we were forbidden to eat and forbidden to touch it, so that we would not die.” The last addition, “and not to touch,” – possibly a stringency that Adam told her, and possibly a stringency that she made up herself. The sages interpreted this and said: “Look, see how dangerous it is to make additions to the Torah.” And they said that at this moment the serpent pushed the woman, pressed her against the tree and said: “There, you see, you are touching it and nothing happens.” One way or another, the woman for some reason changes a great deal in what the Most High commanded Adam.

Indeed, God has seated you at His table, you are at the table of the Most High. But you are not obliged to sit at His table: you can be like Him, you can set your own table and you will be like Him, if you eat of this tree. The serpent did not say to the wife here: “Eat, try it! A tasty fruit, tasty food! What a good tree!” The serpent simply pointed it out to the woman, engendered in her the possibility of weighing – from the point of view of the rational mind, of common sense – the commandment prohibiting eating from the tree. This is how sin works. A person is tempted, in essence, by his own lust. Looking at something, he himself makes the decision, he is only led up to it, made to look at the object that can tempt him, and at this moment he himself chooses – to be tempted or not to be tempted. In the sixth verse we read what happened to the woman.

That is, this is the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, it (the fruit) gives reason and the ability to prosper, to be successful – the pride of life. In the book of the prophet Yeshayahu (52:13) it is said about the Mashiach: “Hiné yaskíl avdí” – “Behold, My servant has become successful.” Here the woman also wants to be successful. She saw that the tree can help her. The serpent did not tell her this, her eyes told her this, her sight, she saw it herself. He only gave her the opportunity to look at this, let her allow in her heart that she can look at this.

Pay attention, here again she took “of its fruits”, despite the fact that she precisely knew and said that it is forbidden to eat of the fruits (although the prohibition was to eat of the tree, we will come back to this).

Adam, pay attention, eats of the tree and asks nothing at all. He does not ask, perhaps, because he has no contact at all with his wife, contact between them did not work out, or he does not ask, perhaps, for the reason that we will understand a little further on.

The word chagorá indeed means belt. One can understand and see that the people, Adam and his wife, felt some kind of impurity in the lower part of their body and made themselves a girding, a belt that separates the lower part of the body and the upper – not so much to cover the nakedness as to separate off the impurity, if one understands this literally. So, their eyes were opened, they saw some impurity and made themselves girdings, or girdles, or belts, however you like you can understand it. Were their eyes closed before this? This is such a question that, naturally, suggests itself. The word tifakáchna (from the verb lifkóach) means to look attentively, to peer, to peer intently into something; pikéach is a vigilant person. And here one can say that, when they switched from prophecy to rationality, to the sound, physical, animal mind, there also switched on what is called pikchút – that is, some kind of vigilance, a need to protect oneself, to examine oneself and check oneself constantly, some kind of scale against which one needed to check oneself. In this sense their eyes became vigilant.

The gloomiest commentaries say that this is a prototype of the wooden coffin in which man will end up. Man hid in the tree as in a coffin. The most rational commentaries say that here “in the tree which is in the garden” is “among the trees which are in the garden”. There are also such variants: maybe there was some kind of hollow in the tree. One way or another, man hid in the tree which is in the garden.

Sensing this impurity, man can no longer appear before the Most High and therefore hides, and that is just what he tells Him.

Here the Most High speaks not about the fruits of the tree, but about the tree: “Could it be that of the tree, about which I commanded you not to eat of it, you ate.”

Perhaps the wife herself ate the fruits, and gave Adam from the tree. One can understand it this way. But, one way or another, we cannot pass over this difference – that the woman ate from the fruits and spoke about the prohibition to eat from the fruits, while the man ate from the tree. And it is important: what is a fruit? It is the purpose of the tree’s existence. And the trunk? It is the means of reproducing the fruit. That is, the trunk is the means, the fruit is the goal. The woman carries the fruit to term, the woman is more connected with fruits, the man is more connected with means. One can draw such a parallel.

So, Adam answers the Most High and says: “The woman whom You gave me, she gave me this fruit, and I ate.” One can say that this is a finger pointed toward the woman: “She is to blame!” One can explain it this way and see in it the first betrayal in history: thus Adam betrayed his wife. One can also say it differently, that Adam says to the Most High: “You gave me this woman, I trust her completely, since You gave her to me.” It is like when you come to an unfamiliar country and your friend says: “My daughter will walk around with you, she will go around with you, so that you are not cheated, so that you are not swindled.” And after that you will trust this girl. The Most High gave Adam (we said: Adam is a “guest worker” in Paradise), the Most High made for him a native inhabitant of Paradise. Madam Isha, the future Chava (not yet Chava, simply ishá – woman), she is “Made in Gan Eden,” she is a native inhabitant there. The Most High gave her to him and said: “Here is a helper for you.” Adam, of course, trusts her entirely and completely – and what would you do if God gave you a helper? And he says: “How can this be? It was You who gave me this woman! And she gave me, and I ate!”

The word hasi'éni can be translated (and many translate it) as the serpent courted me or the serpent married me. After all, in reality, and we started with this, the serpent wants... What does the serpent want? The cleverest one in the garden, who was replaced by Adam, wants to eat from all the trees in the garden, perhaps to walk upright like Adam, to rule over all the animals and along the way to grab his wife too – let this woman now be his secretary, what does Adam need her for. Where was Adam during all this? Well, where would he be – he was hired to cultivate the land, he is there, in the garden, at work, his woman is at home. The serpent began communicating with her with exactly these goals, and here the woman, in confused feelings, says: “The serpent egged me on, he is clever after all, he is a ‘know-it-all,’ and this name makes one, so to speak, take into account what he says.” Besides, perhaps he tried to possess the woman, and about this, too, very many midrashim, very many traditions speak. And the plain text here can also be understood this way: “The serpent took me as a wife” or “Courted me, and I ate.” After this the Most High no longer asks why the serpent did this. Why he did this, we will see from the punishment itself.

What does this mean? Nachásh, who wanted to rule over all the animals, turned out more cursed, more banished, more despised than all the animals. You wanted to walk upright – we will tear off even the little legs you had. Indeed, did the serpent have little legs? If we go back again to the second chapter, where it tells about the animals that the Most High created and brought to Adam, reptiles are not listed there. In the first chapter we read about reptiles, in the second chapter there are no reptiles among the animals of Gan Eden. The serpent was originally not a reptile, he had some kind of little paws-legs. It is hard to imagine what all this looked like, but apparently they existed, because here the serpent receives such a curse – to go on his belly.

The serpent, who wanted to try everything and to enjoy all the tastes instead of man, will now eat only earth, whatever he eats. A snake really has no taste receptors, and whatever it eats, everything will taste of dust. Today researchers say that a snake does not sense, does not distinguish tastes. This is one more punishment, perhaps for the desire to eat from all the fruits of the garden.

By the seed of the wife no special seed is meant: a woman’s egg cells are also called seed both in the Torah and in the tradition. Therefore, once again, there are those who search for messianic parallels here; one can search for them, but one must remember that zéra refers to the wife in other places of the Torah too.

It is interesting that the words yeshufechá and teshufénnu are not one and the same verb, although they are similar. One means to strike on the head or to strike from above, the other means to sting. That is, the Most High says: “I will make you forever an enemy of the woman”, and one can say: “Sonny, you wanted to possess a woman? You will arouse disgust in a woman all the days of your life.” And this is still so to this day. And grown men are also afraid of snakes, but the fear of snakes is usually associated with women. Although again there are, of course, numerous exceptions, and the Torah speaks here of a general principle.

Of course, the first thought that comes to mind, and this is also a correct understanding, is that these are the pains connected with childbirth. Women say that it is so painful that, it would seem, just a little more, just one more drop, and I will simply die, that is, a very strong pain. I will not retell it in detail; for the sisters, of course, it is more sensitive. But perhaps here it is not about pain in childbirth either; there are women who give birth without pain. Perhaps here it is about the world changing so much that the woman will grieve because she gives birth to children into this imperfect world of suffering, where it is impossible to secure their safety and happiness, where there is not a planted garden in which you “chew coconuts, eat bananas,” but a place where one must labor hard. In response to the argument that “the serpent, nachásh, egged me on” or “seduced me,” or, even worse, “courted me,” the Most High says: “Toward your husband will be your desire.” Tshuká is an unrestrained desire, the desire to be with someone. Such a situation arises in the world: if I (it does not matter whether I am a man or a woman) have a desire to receive what someone else possesses, then this someone gains power over me. I am dependent on him if he has what I really need, what I really want. When a woman really wants to have a husband, the husband gains power over her. The Most High arranges the relationship this way. Is it so forever? We read later, in the book of Shir haShirim (again I will allow myself to run ahead), how the girl says: “Aní ledodí ve'aláy tshukató” – “I belong to my beloved, and toward me is his desire.” That is, this situation can also change, when love really arises, unity between man and woman, between Adam and God, between the rational mind and revelation, between philosophy and prophecy.

The earth is the place where man serves. Since the woman is a helper, and one of her tasks is the reproduction of the generation, she receives a punishment in this sphere, in the relationship with her husband. In exactly the same way Adam too. He was sent to work on the earth, and as a punishment the earth turns out to be cursed for him because of him. Besides, we did read a hint that something went wrong with the earth (1:12), when it did not bring forth the fruit the way it should. And here this curse returns to the earth. We will read about this once more later.

Here is the very same word – atzvút (sadness, sorrow), which we read in verse 16 in relation to the wife as well. From this I conclude that, most likely, “with grief you will eat” is not about physical pain.

The LORD God says: “Instead of the garden that I planted, now it will sprout thorns and burdocks for you. You will no longer have only those trees that suit you, only fruit trees, you will no longer have this luxury, but it will bring forth burdock and thorn for you.”

Having disconnected from the Divine reason, from prophecy, one can put it this way, from “God-manhood,” and having switched, again, one can put it this way, to “serpent-manhood,” to the rational mind, man lost the divine principle, or it weakened so much that only a piece of earth remained there, only a piece of dust. Not only man in this way disconnected from the Most High, but also the whole world. After all, man was the only little bridge, therefore the earth is cursed too, therefore thorns will come too: the whole universe will change, because, in fact, “you are dust, and you will return to dust. You could have been a God-man, you could have united in yourself the divine and the earthly, but you remained a purely earthly Adam.”

The word chavá, the name Chavá, is simplest, of course, to understand as giving life in the literal sense, from the word chayím (life), and one can stretch some grammatical form to fit here: Chava as the one giving life; one can, but it is not necessarily so. Another interesting form suggests itself if we go back a little to the first chapter, where it is said that Adam became a living soul. The Aramaic Targum translates this as “became a speaking soul”. It is precisely the ability to speak that makes Adam a living soul; the manifestation of life in the soul is its ability to speak. The word chavá can be translated from the Aramaic chivá, a common Semitic root, speaking – the one who makes one speak, who gives the gift of speech, who teaches speech. And, since the world was created by the Logos, by the Word of the Most High, one can understand it this way: Adam's speaking, the presence of speaking beings in the world, gives life to everything living. There are those who also see in the name Chava a parallel with the Aramaic, ancient Semitic word serpent, which is hard to fit in here, into our scheme as “giving life to everything living”. I would say that here it is both “giving life and giving speech”. We again read a complex interweaving, a complex play on words.

Since they began to be ashamed of their nakedness, they had to be clothed, and the Most High made them garments of skin. Some commentators say (this is, maybe, a more mystical approach, but it also fits into the simple meaning) that here the Most High made bodies for Adam and Chava. Their garments of skin, the “sheathing” with skin – this is the final acquisition of physical bodies, and before this they were not in a physical body. One can understand it this way too. But one can also understand it simply, that the Most High is the first tailor. One can also say it the way it is seen, that the Most High sacrificed animals for them, and from the skin of these animals made them garments. In any case, some animals were killed for the first time so that garments for Adam and Chava could be made from their skin.

The 22nd verse is very, very difficult to understand.

“Adam has become like one of Us” – most often it is translated exactly this way. One can also say it this way: “Adam separated from Us, became independent, knowing good and evil”. If mimménnu is referred to Adam himself, then it turns out that Adam, knowing good and evil, began to rule the world, having separated from the Most High. One can also say that Adam became the first from whom what follows will go, from whom the tradition of those who know good and evil will go.

Before interpreting this verse, one needs to translate it correctly. The traditional translation – Adam has become like one of Us – is, in fact, not the only correct option. It is clear that many supporters of various doctrines want to see in this a plurality of persons of God and the like, but again let us remember that this is not the only possible translation. And, most likely, one can speak of Adam in some way separating from the Most High, or of Adam founding a new tradition, becoming the first in some chain of those who know good and evil. After all, later we will read that Adam begot in an image and likeness that was now his own.

Why is man not allowed to live forever? Not because the Most High fears some competition from man, but because man began to rule, set out to rule the world with a purely rational reason. The Most High said that the rational mind had begun to rule the whole earth. The one who was the ruler of the whole earth gave in to the predominance of the rational mind. Now, though, he must not live forever, because the rational mind cannot be immortal, for the world in itself is material, and matter must be mortal. And therefore the Most High says that Adam must not live forever in this state.

Again I want to remind you that we talked about how Chava (or Ishá), Adam's wife, – she is a citizen of the Garden of Paradise, no one drives her out, she leaves by herself. About Adam it is said: “vayshalechéhu (and sent him) the LORD God out of the Garden of Paradise.” All this has no relation at all to Chava, she is not appointed to work the ground, she is not taken from the ground, and there is nowhere to deport her to, because Paradise is her homeland. It is Adam who is deported. Chava goes as the one accompanying him, she too has sinned, and she remains the “little bridge” of man – the paradise human in our world. Chava and all her offspring, all women, are the representatives of Paradise in our earthly world. They are a little, speaking in men's language, not of this world, they are completely different from us (men), precisely because somewhere there in a makeup bag, or in a handbag, or deep in the closet, under the clothes, they hide the passport of a citizen of Paradise.

The revolving sword, whose blade spins and, as it were, forms the turning of natural life, the cycle of the year and in general the cycle of everything, a symbol of human morality, a symbol of the division of the world into the bad, the good and the miscellaneous.

The Tree of life is, as we remember, the Torah. We have already talked about this, it has its own deep meanings. 26 generations will pass before the Torah is given to man, and there too there will be a kind of confrontation, a counteraction – the meeting of the Tree of life and the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

And although more questions remain than answers, we are finishing the study of the third chapter of the book of Bereshit.

As in the first verse of the preceding third chapter with regard to the serpent, we see here an unusual grammatical form, rare for Hebrew, which means past in the past. That is, at that moment Adam had already known Chava, his wife, and one can understand here, it will be more correct to understand, that already in Paradise Adam knew Chava. About this, I will say again, I have already mentioned it in passing, there is a great philosophical dispute: was there intimate life in Paradise, is Paradise some kind of place to which mankind should strive to return, or is it some kind of child’s cradle, where there should be no adult life at all. Reading the word knew in this grammatical form, and also remembering that the Most High said to Adam and Chava “be fruitful and multiply” long before the expulsion, one can suppose that there was, after all, intimate life in Paradise.

So, by that time Adam had already known Chava, his wife. Most likely, at the moment of the expulsion Chava was pregnant, and after the expulsion she gives birth to Kayin. She said 4 words, commenting on the name Kayin. Each of these words separately is understandable to us, but tying it all together is much more difficult. Kaníti is a verb in the first person past tense, meaning I bought, I made or I created. Ish is a man or a human being, a husband. Et-adonáy is to the LORD. One can understand: “I have made a man for the LORD” or “I together with the Most High created a human being (or made a human being)”. For the first time in history a human being is born. Kayin is the first product, made by Chava together with the Most High, as she says about it. Besides that, the word káyin, which comes from the word kaníti (to make or to manage a household) can also be translated as one who manages, for man was created, after all, in order to govern the earth in the final account. So, the name Kayin is very solemnly announced as a product made jointly with the Most High, as someone who will acquire and possess. About the other brother, however, it is said as if in passing.

The name Hevel is not commented on here in any way. The word hével means vanity, vapor coming out of the mouth, something temporary and lifeless. Why give such a name to a child? There is also another meaning in more ancient Semitic languages, which perhaps were familiar to Chava: this is the meaning shepherd, and it fits here much better.

It would seem that Kayin is much more “human” than Hevel, for he continues the work that was entrusted to Adam – to work the ground. We read in the first chapter, and in the second, and the third, that Adam is connected with working the ground. Who here continues this tradition? Kayin. At the same time certain changes have taken place in the world, and Adam is no longer in the garden planted by the Most High, Adam now lives on cursed ground. And he has to choose between the world of the Most High, between building “little bridges” there, upward, and somehow clambering up there, and managing a household on this earth. Kayin is a landowner and a farmer, he lives a settled life – farming implies a settled way of life. A man becomes attached to the plot of land which he works, later builds cities there or, in any case, sows it and takes care of this plot of land. In contrast to this, a shepherd is a kind of tumbleweed, a wanderer who has no allotment of his own. Who else, as we know from history, will later not have an allotment? The Levites, that is, those who serve the Most High. Our ancestors were mostly shepherds, and the prophets, as a rule, did not have allotments of their own land. That is, here there is not only a clash of farming and animal husbandry, here there is also a clash of two approaches in relating to the land and to the Most High. And we will now see how this develops further.

Kayin is the firstborn, so to speak, the sacrifices are in his hands. And he brings from the fruits of the ground minchá ladonáy (a sacrifice to the LORD). Well, Hevel sees this too, and he wants to as well.

About no one else in the Torah is it written that it became bitter, and the face fell, only about Kayin. Why did it turn out that the LORD accepted Hevel’s sacrifice and did not accept Kayin’s sacrifice? Many say: it is written here (and this is completely fair) that Hevel brought from the firstlings of his livestock and from the best of his livestock, while Kayin brought simply from the fruits, not from the best, but simply from the fruits he brought. But people sacrifice with different degrees of self-sacrifice, why not accept both sacrifices? What is wrong with Kayin’s sacrifice? Is it really only from the best that one may bring a sacrifice? Indeed, that is how it turns out. The Most High says: “A sacrifice is not food that you bring to Me, it is not a share that you drop off with Me. It is a testimony that I am the master of this world, that all the blessing, all your labor and all the results of your labor – this is My blessing. Therefore you bring the first of the fruits, the best of the fruits you bring to Me. Not because I am so picky, but because this is a testimony that you give.” Kayin is the fruit, so to speak, of the cooperation, the partnership of man and God, which is partly already laid down in his name, proclaimed when he was named Kayin, and here he relates to the Most High as to a partner: as if he brings His share in their common labor. He brings Him from the fruits of the ground, as one ought to treat a partner, drops off to the Most High His share. Hevel truly brought an offering, as one ought to bring an offering. And therefore the Most High had regard for Hevel’s offering, but for Kayin’s sacrifice did not have regard. Not because it was worse, but because it was, by and large, not a sacrifice at all. This became very hurtful to Kayin, for he is the firstborn after all: he is the firstborn, he is the first, he is the root in Paradise, the one who was conceived while still in Paradise, the fruit of the cooperation of man and God – first, first, first… And then they take some brother, with a completely incomprehensible name, and his sacrifice is accepted. Hurtful beyond all measure.

If you improve – se'ét, you will be able to lift up your face. On the other hand, the word se'ét can mean (so some say) – your sin will be borne. But no sin has taken place yet; there was, perhaps, a wrong action, but that is not yet a sin. A third way of understanding se'ét we read at the end of the book of Bereshit. When Yaakov blesses his sons, he says to Re'uven: “You are more se'ét, in you there is more primacy.” And then one can understand: “If you improve, you will be the firstborn. Now it has turned out that the offering of your younger brother is more pleasing to Me, and he is more fit for the kohen's service. But if you improve, everything will be different, and you will again have the primacy.” One can also understand it as you will lift up your face or as your sin will be borne. But, as I already said, this last understanding is not very likely. Someone will be found to argue. Argue.

The last part of the sentence can also be understood in different ways, and I want to say a few words here in defense of translators. Very often people condemn one translation or another and say: “Oh, how wrongly, how distortedly it is all translated. How incomprehensible it all is.” We often come across such places – I come across such places, to which I try to give two or three translations, and there may be many more of them. So, one can say that this is about sin. It is you that it needs, not it that you need. It is it that is interested in you, not you in it, and therefore you can rule over it. It is it that is hunting you, but you do not need it, it is you that it needs – sin. One can understand that the Most High has already spoken about sin, and now speaks about the brother, about Hevel: “Your brother wants to be with you, wants to be at peace with you, he loves you, and therefore you will rule over him, you will govern him. He acknowledges you as the firstborn and because of this offering he will not become proud and will not imagine himself the elder brother.” These are the two understandings that exist. They are complementary, they are different, and both of these understandings can be seen in the text, and there is nothing to be done about it. The first understanding – sin has a desire for you, it needs you, therefore you will master it. The second understanding – sin will lie at your door. Perhaps what is meant here is the temptation to kill, to somehow deal with the brother. But the Most High says about the brother: “At the same time, understand that your brother wants peace with you, and you will rule over him.” The Most High, whatever the other words of the verse mean, here calls Kayin to repentance and says: “You can become better.”

Let us begin by understanding what, after all, Kayin said to Hevel. Some commentators and even some translations, including the Samaritan Torah (the Samaritan manuscripts of the Torah), add here the phrase let us go into the field, that is, Kayin said to Hevel: “Come, let us go out and talk.” And in the field everything already happened. Others try to say that instead of repenting here, in this place, instead of saying to the Most High: “Forgive me, LORD, forgive me that I am envious, forgive me that I do not improve, forgive me that I do not measure up to the primacy,” Kayin went and began to talk with Hevel. And it does not matter what he says. Still others say that Kayin came to say all these very words to Hevel: “I will still improve, I will rule over you all the same, I am the priest all the same, I am all the same, all the same, all the same…” I am inclined to think that indeed, since the Torah does not reveal here what Kayin says, the essence is that Kayin, instead of speaking with the Most High, went to speak with his brother. They went out into the field. The field is a neutral place, this place is the boundary between settled places and wild nature in general. The field is the place where Hevel pastures his livestock, where Kayin works the land. It is also the place where the serpent comes from, who is smarter than all the beasts of the field. It is the place where their nature is most manifest, their nature clashed here, and what happened happened. A tragedy happened, Kayin rose up against his brother and killed him.

We talked about how Kayin lives in such a state that he is, as it were, a partner of the Most High. And therefore here he says: “Wait, is it written in my contract that I also have to guard my brother? Look, I work the land, ask me about the land, I will answer You.” Having felt himself a partner of the Most High, a man not only raises himself above his brothers, above his whole family, but also lowers the Most High to the level where, as it seems to him, he can fool the Most High as a partner. And here Kayin says: “I don't know anything. What's with You?” The Most High addresses Kayin in exactly the same way as He addressed Adam. “Where are you?” – He asked Adam, so that Adam too would have the opportunity to express his remorse, and here for the second time the Most High offers Kayin to repent. One could say: “Forgive me, LORD, I did it, I committed it, I repent…” But that is not what Kayin says.

Me asíta – this is what He said in the previous chapter to the woman: “What have you done?”

If in the previous chapter we read that the ground is cursed, then now Kayin is cursed even more than the ground.

Perhaps here, now, Kayin can repent and say: “Forgive me, Most High”? No, this again does not happen.

What, actually, is Kayin afraid of? Who can kill him? By tradition they say: whom did they marry? – their sisters. Perhaps one of the sisters, possibly Hevel's sister, to whom he was destined as a husband, will take up blood vengeance and kill Kayin according to the not yet born tradition of blood vengeance. Or a son of Adam will grow up someday and catch up with, find this Kayin and kill him: how long does it take children to grow up there? Or some animal will tear him to pieces, the defenseless Kayin. And the Most High again shows Kayin mercy.

Many midrashim, traditions speak about this sign. Some say that it is some kind of horn; others say that it is some kind of seal on the forehead, which the Most High made for him. One can suppose all sorts of things. This is very similar to what will later happen with the cities of refuge, where a man will be able to flee, where he comes under protection. That is, the Most High changed Kayin's punishment: instead of the penalty for premeditated murder he receives the punishment as an unintentional killer. And the answer to the question of why Kayin is not killed here right away, why Kayin, a murderer, does not deserve death, can be different. Some say: “Because all mankind would be exterminated.” Well, how all mankind? After all, there are still Adam and Chava, they will still give birth. Others say: “Because the prohibition of murder had not yet been announced, therefore the death penalty cannot be applied either.” Still others say: “But we also read in the previous chapter about a man who was supposed to die, but did not die or did not die right away, and here it is about Kayin also losing some life forces at this moment.” One way or another, such a punishment with such built-in mercy is announced to Kayin. What then does Kayin do?

Who, after this, much later, went out from the face of the Most High? It was the prophet Yona, who fled from the face of the Most High. What did the prophet Yona do when the Most High told him to go to the city of Ninveh, which means fish? Yona said: “But I will run to Tarshish,” which means tuna. That is, instead of Rybinsk I will go to Rybnoye. I have kind of, as it were, fulfilled the will of the Most High, there is nothing to find fault with here. That is the kind of wordplay it is. The Most High, as we know, does send Yona a fish, and says: “You want, Yona, to play with words? Well, let us play with words.”

What does Kayin do? He goes out from the face of the Most High. But instead of being nad (a wanderer, a vagrant), he became a resident of the land of Nod (wandering). He settled, it is written precisely vayéshev, he settled down in the land of Nod. We do not know who gave names to these lands. One way or another, the name of the land Nod means wandering or vagrancy, and there Kayin settled. About this land it is said that it is located before Eden, that is, he also came back, moved in the direction from which he had been driven out. Kayin acts contrary to the command of the Most High, does not accept the punishment of the Most High. Instead of becoming a wanderer, he becomes a settled resident.

In the 17th verse we read the genealogy of Kayin. We will understand it fully, probably, when we are already reading the 5th chapter and comparing it with the genealogy of another son of Adam, where the names are very similar. Everything is alike, and yet not alike! And we will pay attention to these differences.

We have already said that Kayin's wife is, possibly, a sister who was born together with him. The name Chanóch can be translated as educator, teacher, mentor, guide. In the fifth chapter we will read about another Chanoch, who walked before the LORD and whom the LORD took to Himself. Here too we read about a Chanoch, the names are the same, but the deeds are completely different. Having left agriculture, having run away from wanderings, from roaming and from work on the unfruitful, infertile land, Kayin becomes the founder of a kind of “urban” culture. And he begets a son, and builds a city, and names this city by the name of his son. Instead of being a wanderer, he begets a son. Both the city and the son become his creation to the same degree. A seemingly beautiful name, Chanoch (educator), but this name, having first become the name of a person, later becomes the name of a city. And what can one say about the inhabitants of this city? As they say about a person: the street raised me. So the city begins to raise people, some kind of structure of upbringing.

Irad can be translated as ir rad – a sunken, sinking or “lowering” city. Mechuya'el – this name consists of two words: mechu – wipe out, erase and el – God, that is, the one who will wipe out God. Metusha'el – this name can be translated as the one who will forget God. About the name Lemech it is hard to say anything. In modern Hebrew lámech or lémech is some kind of simpleton, little fool, naive fellow, but these are, of course, late meanings. Some interpret the word lámech from lomáku – a kind of kohen, a representative of a deity on earth, maybe as the beginning of paganism, a person proclaiming himself a god.

One wife, as a rule, was taken in order to be intimately close to the husband, and the second wife was taken in order to manage the household. Although, as we will see later on, this is only one of the versions, or else all sorts of slip-ups happened. In general, there are different views on this matter. What is surprising is that here we read for the first time how someone took for himself two wives.

That is, he was the father of all livestock traders. This name, Yaval, sounds very similar to the name Hevel, as some kind of, maybe, remembrance of Hevel, and maybe also a kind of mockery. What Hevel occupied himself with turned, among the descendants of Kayin, into a kind of industrial business.

In the commentaries they often avoid calling wind instruments wind instruments, because playing wind instruments was rather shameful. The root ugáv itself is connected, as it were, with some kind of courting: la'agóv means to flirt, to court someone. From here, by the way, comes the name of the venereal disease agévet, and from here too, strangely enough, agvaniyá – “apple of love,” or tomato. That is how a word turns around in a language. In this name, Yuval, one can also see a certain resemblance to the name Hevel, certainly. And again one can say that if Hevel, as a shepherd, played musical instruments for his own pleasure, then here, in Kayin's urban version, music turns into an industry. So, culture is born, trade, musical instruments.

Na'amá means agreeable or pleasant. About her some say, based on her name, that she became the founder of the entertainment industry. Judging both by the names and by the manner of behavior, in Lemech's family God is absent already even as a memory.

Here too we read a text that is very difficult to translate. It is understood in different ways, there is an abyss of midrashim on this, and I will give only one interpretation of this verse. Lemech says: “For my ‘boo-boo’ I will kill a man, and for my little wound I will kill a boy.”

The audacity grows and grows. In these words there is also a kind of permission: “Killing is allowed now, at any rate for me, Lemech, it is allowed. Kayin killed because of a sacrifice, I can kill because of a little scratch, because of a little wound, both a grown man and a small child. And just as protection was set for Kayin, so too protection will be set for me.” And meanwhile a completely new lineage is coming into being, a new line of humanity, a line we will talk about more in the fifth chapter.

The name Shet means inserted or placed.

Of the solemnity and pomp of the beginning of the chapter nothing remains, of such striving, audacity, cooperation with the Most High there is also nothing left here anymore, except perhaps, as we said, here is the genealogy of Kayin, to which we will yet return.

Enósh means humane, weak, from here also the name of humanity – enoshút, the descendants of Enosh.

What is this? What does they began to call out the Name of the LORD mean? As many people, so many opinions. One can say it like this: then they began to call the LORD by Name. But the LORD says in the book of Shemot that He did not reveal Himself by this Name. Then they began to give people “theophoric” names – names that include within them the Name of the Most High, one can understand it so too. Or then they began to pray to the Most High, that is, having borne the third, all humanity, in the persons of the remaining people and of Kayin, who had been driven out somewhere, maybe began to call out to the Most High, to call upon Him and ask Him for protection. There are also other commentators who say: “Then they began to call anything at all by the name of the Most High,” that is, then idolatry was born. Again we encounter a situation where some short, difficult, not very clear phrase in the text gives rise to many different translations, and all of them have a right to exist. And I will leave this multiplicity of variants with you, so that you can think and decide for yourselves how this is translated.

Before we begin reading the fifth chapter, I want to say that in a certain way it stands as if in parentheses, interrupting the main storyline of the book of Bereshit. It is both part of the storyline and at the same time a kind of reference digression. Remember this.

The word toledót is usually translated into Russian as genealogy. In Russian, when we say genealogy, we expect a list of ancestors. The word toledót in Hebrew means begettings, from the word leholíd – to beget. Therefore, when we encounter the word toledót, most often we will see a list of descendants.

In Bereshit (1:26,27) we read that when the Most High is about to create man, He intends to create him betzalménu (in Our image) kidmuténu (after Our likeness); kidmút – after the likeness. Here we read that man is created bidmút – in the likeness of God. That is, the emphasis will be on the fact that man has a function built into himself to strive to become like the Most High, to strive to be like the Most High. This can be in a good sense, and it can also be in a bad sense. In the bad sense we read about this when Chava wanted to be like God, knowing good and evil, and stretched out her hand to the fruit of the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil. And when Kayin, too, thought of himself as a landowner, and a ruler on the earth, and a partner equal to the Most High. And again in our chapter, in our story, this likeness will be spoken about.

The words zachár unkevá mean male and female in modern Hebrew, masculine and feminine. We return to the theme of the first chapter: Adam (man) as a whole creation included within himself man and woman, the masculine and the feminine.

Again, let us pay attention to the small details and to the prepositions: vayoled bidmutó ketzalmó – begot in his likeness, after his image. That is, Adam himself was originally planned to be created in the image after the likeness, but here – in the likeness after the image. First of all the desire to correspond to the image is copied, and only then, secondarily, the image itself.

The name Shet means to be a foundation, to be laid as a foundation, placed into the foundation. And that on which a person sits, is also called by the word shet.

 Here it is time to make a certain lyrical, commentator's digression. Several years ago a text appeared on the internet, a kind of midrash, in which the names of the ten patriarchs from this very fifth chapter of the book of Bereshit are presented in the form of a gospel – supposedly, what is described here is the preparation of the world for the coming of Mashiach. Unfortunately, this requires a very great stretching of the text and at times doing violence to the text. That is, I consider that this gospel in quotation marks is, let us say, “read into” this text; it is not there originally. I deeply believe, I believe with all my soul, that the Torah and all of Scripture speak about Mashiach. And therefore, if we simply read this text sincerely, try to penetrate into its meaning, then we will see Mashiach in it. We will see – not invent, but precisely see – looking precisely into the text, and not into our fantasy. Therefore I am always wary of attempts to “read into” the text, to discern Mashiach where He is not shown so directly. After all, this discredits our faith. If we are forced to invent proofs for ourselves, if we have come to love proofs, and ultimately even if we simply constantly, constantly “evangelize” ourselves and constantly, constantly need some kind of proofs, then what does this say about our faith? Therefore let us read the names of the patriarchs, try to understand the Torah, its plain meaning, its hidden hint, its commentary, its interpretation, and see Mashiach in this where He is, try not to fantasize, not to dream, not to “read into” it what is not in the Torah. I assure you, we will see Mashiach in it sincerely and honestly. This – we close the parentheses – is the end of the lyrical digression.

There is a fairly ancient Jewish source – midrash Agada, which says that Adam begot 56 children in all: 33 sons and 23 daughters. Some, when they cite these numbers, refer to Yosef Flavius. In Yosef Flavius I did not find this at their reference. Midrash Agada, although ancient, is nevertheless a midrash. These numbers circulate, wander from text to text – 33 sons, 23 daughters, many-many-many sons and daughters, but still those who come across these numbers should remember that this is a midrash, unverified information, and we do not know how many sons and daughters Adam actually begot.

We have already spoken about the name Enosh. It can be translated as weak, in need of protection. It can be translated simply as humane. We also said that humanity (enoshút) is “enósh-hood”, the descendants of Enosh or weaklings.

We touched a little on the name Kayin in the meaning of manufacturer, craftsman, owner – the one who makes, and the one who owns. Kenan comes from the same root, and in most Semitic languages this name means smith. It can be translated that way here too.

The name Mahalal'el consists of the root halel (to praise), hence also the well-known alleluia, and the word el – God. That is, one who praises God, or it can be translated as shining, glorified God. This name, of course, sounds very much like the name we read among the descendants of Kayin – Mechuya'el. There it means one who erases the Most High, the one who erases the Name of the LORD. Here we see it in a completely opposite context – one who praises God.

Since we are touching here on the word halel, which means glorification, I want to make a remark with which I have probably already bored many. When people pronounce the word alleluia, they want to, and it seems to them that it would be in the Hebrew manner, to say chalelú or challelúya. In reality, alelú is praise, while chalelú is disgrace. Chilul HaShem is defaming, dishonoring God. Therefore, when someone, God forbid, says chalelú, it will mean defame, disgrace. Still, it is better either to say in Russian alleluia, or to say it with a barely noticeable ה (hey) – haleluya, but not to say chalelú, because the result will be completely different.

So, Mahalal'el was born.

We read about Irad, and here we read about Yarad. The verb larédet is connected with descent, and here too the meaning of the name is connected with descent – with the one who descends, goes down, bends the knee. In this case it is a common Semitic, ancient word which means slave – a slave of God or a servant of God – such is the name of the man who was the son of Mahalal'el. Again a similarity, almost homonyms, almost alike in sound. So, and yet not so.

Chanoch is known in the Russian tradition as Enoch, and there is no getting away from it for us. We will have to talk about him too.

If we recall, chanóch is teacher, mentor, one who educates or one who consecrates a new house, that is how this word can be translated. The simplest, most obvious translation of the name Metushalach – the one who sent away his death: metó – his death, shelách – sent. But this is from the point of view of modern Hebrew or, at least, medieval Hebrew. Since we are speaking of an ancient language, one can also suppose a more ancient interpretation: metóy – man or husband, shelách – shel eloh́im, that is man of God, great man, man of God. One can understand it this way too. Since there are arguments both one way and the other, and the translation is not all that crucial, I don't feel like arguing and tearing my shirt, so I leave two translations as they are. Actually, that is what I always like to do.

This may also be an allusion to some kind of fullness. 365 – the number of days immediately suggests itself, a whole year, which is a rather symbolic figure.

Well, simply a very interesting verse! Of course, this is a lot of food for thought, fantasies, guesses, revelations and so on. What happened to Chanoch, and where did the Most High take him? Many commentators say that Chanoch became the Angel of angels, a sort of mentor in the school of angels, called by the name Metatron. However, this name itself, Metatron, is of Greek origin, and this tells us that the idea arose in the era of Hellenism. There are very many books that are called Enochic literature. The books of Chanoch, of which there are several, appeared and began to circulate several centuries before the common era. These books tell in part the history of the universe, the structure of the upper, supernal worlds and much else. Different books of Chanoch tell different stories, it is a whole literature. Some of them have come down to us in Greek translation, some in Aramaic, some even in Old Slavonic or Ethiopic translations; these books are of different sizes, different formats. Very often I am asked: “How should one relate to the books of Chanoch?” Less often they ask: “So what, is Chanoch not an authority for you?” I will answer right away: Chanoch is an authority for me, unconditionally. The books of Chanoch, judging by their language and content, if they were written on the basis of some testimonies, some stories about Chanoch, then they were written very late, in the period of the second Temple. Written in Greek, in Aramaic, and it is hardly what came from the pen of Chanoch directly (although, possibly, they contain some prophecies of Chanoch). How should one relate to this? As to something that testifies and tells us what the Jews believed in that period, what was in their heads, what worried them, that is, the historical background of the coming of Mashiach. This is very important. Should everything in these books be accepted and taken in? I think, God forbid. We do not know by whom these books were edited, through whose hands they passed, and many thoughts there are dubious, and there are many contradictions between the different books of Chanoch. Therefore, read them – yes, of course. If you want to know the history of faith, if you want to understand what the Jews lived by, what Israel lived by, then, of course, read. If you want to see Divine revelation in them, then be careful. There is also one more temptation. When people find this or that book (it may be the Book of the Righteous, or a book of some revelations, or some other gospel, or some other text), they say: “Here it is, the truth that has always been hidden from us! Here is what they are concealing from us!” We want to find the truth somewhere on the side, some exclusive truth, hidden from everyone but revealed only to us, we want it very much. We very much want to know what others do not know. And often this comes from an unwillingness to dig in what we have, that is, directly in the Scripture that we have. And the unwillingness to dig in it can arise because everything has, as it were, already been told to us, because we already know everything in it, because everything in it is already clear to us, and it seems there is nowhere else to go and we ought to study something new. But rethink Scripture, study Scripture, study what already exists, and let the book of Chanoch help you in this study – not hinder, not stand as a counterweight, but precisely help, so as to understand history better.

The same applies to such books as the books of Malkitzedek, the book of Noach, the book of the Angel Raziel, attributed to Adam, and a multitude of other pseudepigrapha, that is, books whose authorship is attributed to another person. Of course, Chanoch is a very mysterious figure. Of course, one wants to solve the riddle of what kind of figure this is. And, of course, for many authors, thinkers, it was tempting to feel themselves in the skin of Chanoch or Noach, to live through their spiritual state (or to deceive themselves that they are in this state). That is how this literature was born, but these are not books of deceivers. These are, rather, books of dreamers, revisionists, “visioners” and so on. Nevertheless one must remember that these are books written by people – both the book of Chanoch, and the book of Adam, and the book of Noach, and all sorts of literature attributed to Malkitzedek. Chanoch and Malkitzedek are simply such mysterious figures that they themselves create a peculiar stir around themselves. The books were known in the era of the apostles. We know that the apostle Yehuda refers to the book of Chanoch as to a commonly known one. He did not even ask himself who the author of these books was, and perhaps he was saying what the book speaks of, and it really does rest on the prophecy of Chanoch. But we have no way to determine this, to separate the wheat from the tares in these books. Therefore as a historical source – unconditionally yes, as a source for reflection – yes, as Divine revelation – I think, no. And I do not want, I warn you in advance, to fall into any disputes regarding the book of Chanoch. I am only expressing my opinion.

We talked about the name Lemech, we derived it from the word lomaku, which means one who serves as priest, who considers himself a priest, who considers himself a great man. That is how one can translate it.

Metushalach is the longest-lived person in all of Scripture: a man who lived longer than anyone in biblical history.

Here the name of the son is not given right away, because, as we already know, the genre of the genealogy leads us up to the very peak, for the sake of which it was, in fact, written.

So, the boy receives the name Noach, because he above all yenachém – will comfort, will deliver, “will make repent.” But any person who knows Hebrew will say that the word noach comes from the verb lanúach (to rest), while the verb lenachém (to comfort or to make repent) – is a completely different verb. How can Noach be connected with lenachém? And here there is a very interesting phenomenon. Indeed, in modern Hebrew the name Noach is read as Noach. But in deep antiquity, long before Moshe, there existed such a concept as mimation, when at the end of a word (in the nominative case) the letter מ (mem) was added, I am saying this in a simplified way now. Therefore Noach was read as Nochm and, accordingly, Nochm could quite well derive from lenachém, this would be a fitting play on words. If scribes had made up the Torah themselves in the third century before the common era or even in the tenth century before the common era, they would never have thought of this, they would not have known about mimation. And this says that the Torah was not made up. One more proof that the Torah was not made up. What is hidden here, what has remained here – is evidence that the play on words, although it is no longer understood, is still preserved. By the way, this very mimation, which introduces the letter מ (mem) into the ending of words, quite possibly turns the word Eloh́a – God into Eloh́im, and it seems to us that this is a plural, but in fact it is a form of the word like this, a kind of article, a form of the nominative case. There are works about this, there are those who dispute this, but nevertheless such a version has a right to exist.

The word itzevón – is that very word from the third chapter of the book of Bereshit, in which we read what was said to Adam: “…cursed is the ground because of you, in sorrow you will eat all the days of your life.” Noach will stop, in Lemech's opinion, this curse. Why can Noach do this? Because, if we do a little math, we can see that Noach is the first man born after the death of Adam, the first representative of a completely new generation that does not know Adam, and it is precisely he who can take upon himself the mission of correcting the earth and removing Adam's curse. Lemech, perhaps, does not yet know how.

This, in fact, is where the fifth chapter ends, and we will move on to chapter six. Wherever I have traveled and wherever I have had, as they say, to give a talk, at the end of the conversation, during the questions and answers, a question is constantly asked about the following four verses, which we are going to read. This question is very interesting to people, it has already become proverbial: who was it that came in to the daughters of men? I do not undertake to say that after 2000 years of various commentaries, why, 2000, after 3000 years of various commentaries, I will come and give the final answer to this question, but we will try to tell something.

Literally here it is “on the face” of the earth. The surface of something can be called a face. To stand before someone can also be called to stand before the face; to go out from someone – to go out from the face. This often confuses and embarrasses translators: whether “face” should be translated here literally or translated with some Russian (or corresponding to another language) idiom, whether “face” has a meaning here or it is a figure of speech. And each time it is hard for the translator to decide. We remember that the talk was constantly about “being on the surface of the earth, leaving the surface of the earth”, as Kayin says: “You drive me away from the surface of the earth,” and this is death. Here man multiplied, man began to flourish on the surface of the earth, on the earth.

Daughters began to be born. Not that daughters were not born before, otherwise where would the children have come from? But the male predominance in the population decreased, and more daughters began to be born. Or it is simply mentioned: the more people, the more daughters, good and different.

Before we plunge into the depths of the various interpretations, what does this verse resemble? Very often we read in the first chapter that at the moment of creation the Most High says of his creation that it is good. For example, vayár elohím et-ha'ór ki-tóv (and the LORD saw the light, that it was good). And practically about all of creation God says that it is good, and when it is completed, the LORD says that it is very good. About whom is it not said ki tov (that he is good)? It is not said about man. Why? Because man is given a choice: to be good or bad at each specific moment in time, man has the right to choose between good and bad. Therefore one cannot say about man that he is good – God did not say about man that he is good. But the sons of God (we are not yet working out who they are) saw the daughters of men, that they were good – this is a clear echo of the first chapter of the book of Bereshit.

And who else “saw and took”? That is Chava, at that moment still simply a woman (in the third chapter of the book of Bereshit), when she saw the tree and stretched out her hand to the fruit – saw and took.

So, some bnei elohím (sons of God) saw the daughters of men, saw that they were good, and began to take them, whoever chose whichever. A very sharp verse. The question of commenting on this verse is so acute that there once lived in early Jewish history, in the 3rd–4th century, a certain Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, a very famous rabbi, to whom are attributed the authorship of the book of the Zohar, the founding of Kabbalah and much else. This rabbi cursed all those who see here actually real sons of God. He said that bnei elohim are the sons of judges. And judges are indeed called elohim, this occurs in Tehillim several times. That is, these are the sons of judges, who took the daughters of men, perhaps making use of some personal position of theirs. It seems to me, and I will dare not to fear the curse of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, that something else is being spoken about here.

There is also the option that it is speaking, possibly, about the children of Adam. The first generation after Adam – these are, one could say, such super-cool people. Those who will be born later – this is already the degradation of the generations, and not that, not that at all. And the names of Adam's descendants, who were created in the likeness of Adam and in the image of Adam, are closer to him, and one can also think this way: here they are, bnei elohim, sons of God. But it is not clear why the Torah wrote about this in such a convoluted way. There is, true, a version that the sons of Adam had by that time already begun to be deified, and this is exactly what verse 26 of chapter 4 says: “they began to call by the name of God,” that is, they began to call people by the name of God from the moment Shet was born. And, supposedly, the other sons of Adam also began to be called by the name of God, such a status appeared of “gods-superhumans” and “just” people. There is such an explanation too, but I too am not ready to accept it.

Another meaning is closer, in my view, to the truth: bnei elohim are angels. In the book of Iyov and in other literature bnei elohim are the servants of God, the whole retinue of God, those angels of God who serve on the earth: the guardian angels of people, all sorts of other angels who rise from the earth to the heavens. We remember that Yeshua spoke about angels who guard children, and Satan himself is from the sons of God, who also went to and fro on the earth. So, possibly, these are some angels who lived on the earth, had the possibility, had the ability to take on human forms. Maybe so.

Another option, which is known to us from the book of Chanoch, is that the angels of God saw the daughters of men, entered into a conspiracy on Mount Chermon (which also got its name as “Oath”), and from here began the story that we know as the story of the fallen angels. In the midrash Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer there is another story too. When the Most High still only wanted to create man at the very beginning and announced to the angels: “Let us make man!” the angels split into two groups. One group said: “Of course, hurray, and long live man! Make man!” The others said: “No, under no circumstances make man! Nothing good will come of it. He will sin constantly, he will become corrupt, and from this man there will be nothing but trouble.” When indeed the time came and man began to become corrupt, those very opposing angels came to the Most High and said to Him the classic phrase: “We did say so!” The Most High said: “If you had that yétzer, that inclination to evil which man received, you would not have withstood either.” The angels began to argue: “No, we would have withstood!” And the Most High sent them to the earth, they saw the daughters of men and began to come in to them. Let us mention here as well that this midrash also tells about that very Na'ama, the sister of Tuval-Kayin. The first woman whom the angels met on their way (those very ones whom the Most High let go down to the earth) was Na'ama. They said to her: “Give yourself to us.” She said: “No, I will not give myself to you that easily. Give me the Great Divine Name, reveal to me the Name of the Most High, and I will give myself to you.” They revealed the Name to her, and she flew away from them, using this Name. That is why she is called Na'ama (the pleasant one).

But all this is midrashim and commentaries, attempts to penetrate, to look in, to expand our consciousness, to paint beautiful pictures. What, then, can we see here in the literal text? At the beginning of the story we read how man wants to break through from the earth to heaven. All of creation was divided by a boundary: earth and heaven, day and night, light and darkness, dry land and sea. All of creation rests on boundaries. Man was indeed supposed to connect heaven and earth, but not to move from the earth to heaven – that is what man is constantly sick with: seizing the place of the Most High. This happened first of all with Chava, who wanted to be like God, this happened, as we said, with Kayin, who wanted to be a partner of the Most High. Man wanted to break through from the earth to heaven. Here we see a different story, when the heavenly wants to break through to the earthly, when the heavenly finds beauty in the earthly. The corruption went so far that even the angels began to be seduced by the daughters of men. Perhaps angels who live on the earth, angel-messengers, perhaps heavenly angels, but, one way or another, such a temptation arose in the heavens, and they began to choose daughters and to come in to them.

What an amazing phrase, and how does it get into our context? Naturally, when the heavenly begins to penetrate into the earthly, when the heavenly begins to act in earthly nature, one can think of eternal life. We remember that man lost the way to the Tree of life, and here suddenly – angels who come in to the daughters of men (or let it be sons of God). Perhaps this will give rise to some even more incredible length of life. The Most High says that even those who were born from union with angels, even they are still flesh, although it seems to us or may seem from the outside that they possess a supernatural nature. But if the children of God with the spirit of God descend into man, then this is not forever. The Most High set a boundary precisely for this kind, let us say, of living beings at 120 years.

It is quite possible that the daughters of men, from this amazing union with the sons of God, gave birth to superbeings, some kind of giants, some kind of disproportionately great people. And later such a thing also happened. And it seems to us (perhaps as a lesson) that when we see a person with some supernatural abilities, some especially gifted person, we can suddenly think and say: “Oh, what a great man he is! Perhaps he is half an angel, perhaps he is altogether a god-man?” But any person of blood and flesh is mortal; although the Spirit of God lives in him, still he is flesh and the Spirit of God will not live in him forever. His life will be 120 years. And this also concerns those very giants who were on the earth in those days.

The word nafíl means not only giant, but also “faller,” from the word linpól – to fall (nafál, for example, means a miscarriage, a “throwaway,” one who fell, was thrown out, made a fall). There were, one may say, also fallen ones on the earth at that time. This opens up for us the difficult topic of fallen angels, their existence or non-existence. Since this is not in the text, and this is something the text has become overgrown with, I will not go into this question, beyond the fact that I have already cited a sufficient number of different commentaries anyway.

Mighty, famous people is literally translated as people of the name. That is, there were, let us say, celebrities, media figures of that time, people who were born from the unions of the daughters of men with the sons of God. That is the kind of story it was.

So, the boundaries began to be torn not only from the earth to heaven, but also from heaven to the earth.

If the angels saw the goodness of the daughters of men and that they are good, then here God looks at this completely differently and says that they are bad on the earth. All his desires, adam, man, who has a likening to the Most High embedded even in his name “Adam” – all of this is for evil, and man does not function, does not work as that bridge which he was conceived to be. And he does not intend to restore this bridge either. Everything goes wrong.

Here too we see the very same root which, as we said, is connected with the word nóach – yenachém (repented). What is this strange phrase: “The LORD repented, reconsidered”? The One Who possesses omniscience, all-seeing vision, foresight of everything – repented? The LORD loved man, and the repentance is not in that He created man, but in that He bound the earth with man, in that He laid this mission on man in His love and His mercy, and man did not hold out, did not cope with this function. This is not God's disappointment in Himself with the thought: “What a good-for-nothing God I was, that I ‘cooked up’ all this.” This is God's disappointment in man and in His trust in man. But the Most High does not give up this idea here either, and in this nothing has changed; it is simply necessary to change something in creation so that humanity and the whole project “Earth” get a new chance. God did not give up His plan. Man with all his problems did not out-stubborn God, did not force Him to give up any of His ideas. This is a lesson for us too: however we may try to spoil and break this world and our life, God will not let us break it, and there is always a possibility of correction, He will not give up on us. Perhaps the price will be high, but God does not give up His plans.

We talked about the violation of boundaries. The first boundaries in the earthly world are the boundaries that arose when the water receded and the dry land appeared; boundaries appeared between water and dry land, water animals appeared and animals that live on dry land. And now, since the earth originated, came out of the water, it is precisely water that must cleanse the earth. The Most High is preparing the Flood. We will read more about this, it will be in the next chapter.

Man, we read at the beginning of the chapter, multiplied on the earth. Now the Most High says: “I will wipe him out from the face of the earth. I have become disappointed that I created them.” Here again is a word with the root nacham, as in Bereshit (5:29), when we said that Lemech prophesies about Noach.

Whom does the Most High not plan to remove, who is not included in this list? Well, of course, the fish. Perhaps there is one more old aspect here, already mentioned earlier. The Most High says: “I created man, placed him on the earth.” And with the earth there were problems from the very beginning, even before the creation of man. We talked, studying Bereshit (3:3), about the tree-fruit, the tree bearing fruit, and now the Most High says that it is necessary to start everything anew, from the earth itself. “I will wipe out everything that is on the earth, everything that the earth produced” – but not the fish; the fish will not perish. Who else will not perish?

Here the weekly portion Bereshit ends. In fact, the reader here is kept in suspense. We, of course, know how it will all end, but for the reader here, of course, there is a great intrigue. What will happen next, will Noach cope, will the world be destroyed? All this, for the reader who is reading for the first time, ends at the most interesting place.

We will read the first words of the Torah:

These very same words can be translated in the beginning of God's creating of the heaven and the earth, and the story will be slightly different. Already in the very first verses of the Torah, in the very first words of the Torah, different readings in understanding are possible, and this is very important for comprehending the weekly portion Bereshit. It is so laconic, so short, and contains within itself information about incredibly important events, about the most fundamental events of our faith, about the events most key to understanding the universe. And, of course, this gave rise to a multitude of commentaries, a multitude of wise reflections on this portion. And at the same time there is constantly the danger that, striving to understand these symbols, we will want to write our understanding into the interpretation of these symbols, we will deceive ourselves and will no longer be building ourselves on the basis of the Torah, studying the Torah, but will ourselves be writing the Torah, writing into it those understandings that most correspond to our faith and best suit our notions of common sense. This is very dangerous. And precisely in the interpretation of the weekly portion Bereshit we can point a finger: “There it is! There is what points to what I believe in!” And that will be a big mistake. This is a big temptation when reading the weekly portion. Therefore, when we come across some commentary that we like very much and that is very much to our heart, it is always worth checking: is it our heart that writes the Torah, or is the Torah being written on our heart. This is relevant for all of Scripture and especially relevant for the weekly portion Bereshit.

And you and I will begin a conversation about the third word in the Torah. The Torah begins with the words bereshít bará Elohím. Bereshit (in the beginning) – a word in itself about which much can be said; bara (created); Elohim (God). It is about the word Elohim that you and I will talk.

The thing is that any person who is even a little familiar with Hebrew grammar will tell you that the word Elohim looks like a plural word. Indeed, a masculine noun in Hebrew takes on in the plural, as a rule, the ending -im. For example: bayt (house) – batim (houses); sefer (book) – sfarim (books). And it is logical to assume that the word elohim could be understood as gods. Then it would sound: “In the beginning of the gods' creating of the heaven and the earth” or: “In the beginning created gods the heaven and the earth.”

Naturally, when we see such an amazing phenomenon, there is a temptation to ascribe to it the meaning that we want. That is why, for example, supporters of the trinitarian theory say: “Well, there it is! The plural of the word elohim points to the fact that God is a trinity. Why then do these stubborn Jews not see this in the Torah?” Others say: “Well, here is evidence that the Jews were not always monotheists! Here you have evidence of ancient polytheism – the plural of the word elohim.”

So how, after all, is it to be understood? Why does this word, which should have symbolized monotheism (oneness), precisely this word, this first noun that occurs in the Torah, stand in the plural form. Why did it happen so?

The word Elohim does indeed come from the singular Eloha – God strong; possessing strength; being the source of strength. Indeed, there were gods, for example, of growing grapes, of growing lentils, there were very funny gods, gods of mockery or even gods of intestinal gas, there were gods of hunting and gods of fishing. Each god possessed strength in some narrow field of his own, all the gods of the pagans were narrow specialists, and this was something natural for them. Elohim points to the fact that God, who created the heaven and the earth – He is the Almighty. The Almighty does not mean the strongest of the gods, with no gods, with no forces is He going to measure His strength. Elohim is the source of everything strong, the source that gives life, that gives strength to everything, He is the one who gives strength, the source of strength. Therefore nothing can be strong without Him, nothing, naturally, can be stronger than Him, and no other strength exists outside Him. The Almighty God is the God of all powers.

The Most High has one more similar name. He is called Tzva'ót – God of the heavenly hosts. The singular is tzavá (host), the plural tzva'ót (hosts), in the Russian translation this sounds like Savaof. Tzva'ót – God of hosts. Only He has heavenly hosts, there are no other heavenly hosts, He is the God who directs the hosts, He is the God to whom all powers belong, He is the source of every power on earth. This is the most fitting interpretation of the word Elohim, if we understand it in the plural.

There is also another option. The word Elohim, despite the fact that it seems to be a word used in the plural, is not a plural form at all. When Noach is born, a prophecy is spoken about him, that he will be called by the name Noach, because “…he will comfort (yenachem) from the sorrow of our hands.” Why is the word noach connected with the word yenachem? Where does the additional little letter ם (mem) come from? In the ancient Semitic languages there existed the phenomenon of mimation: a guttural sound did not end a word, a person could not say noach, he said noachm. And this -em was not written down in many languages. Today it exists in many dialects of Arabic, but it is not transliterated, not written down. And there is the phenomenon of mimation, when a ם (mem) is added, there is the phenomenon of nunation, when a -nun is added – these are peculiarities of the phonetics of the Semitic languages. And it is quite possible that the word Elohim is a mimated form of the singular of the word eloha, that is, one of the forms of the word Eloha in the Semitic dialects of Canaan of that time. One can also understand it this way, that this word is a singular word with mimation. There are many disputes about this, whether there was mimation there, whether there was nunation there, but such an understanding is also possible.

We will try to understand one more phenomenon on the basis of what we said about the word Elohim as a plural word – the Source of all Powers. Let us read verse 27 of chapter 1, which also speaks about Elohim.

The amazingly laconic Torah, which, just imagine, sets out the foundations of the universe in only a couple dozen verses, suddenly, unexpectedly contains such a repetition: Vayivrá elohím et-ha'adám betzalmó betzélem elohím bará otó – And God created man in His image, in the image of God He created him. If it is written that He created in His image, is it not clear that in the image of God He created him? One can translate this differently, and then the repetition disappears: “And God created man in his image (that is, in the image of Adam), in the image of God He created him.” As if Adam as he is, any Adam, any person, is created in his image, in the image intended for him, and only in potential betzélem elohím bará otó – in the image of God He created him. Indeed, Adam, the simplest person, an atheist, a primitive person, a person who does not know God, has power over the animals, as they say: man domesticates animals, but animals do not domesticate man; man trains animals, but animals do not train man; man conquers nature, adjusts nature to himself, but nature does not adjust man to itself. That is, in man himself, in the very image of man, the image of God is hidden, and when we look at the image of man, we see in it the image of God through the way man rules over the earth. Man is created in the image of man and in the image of God.

Further on we will talk about how Adam begot his children, in what image. But there is in man a potential of spiritual power, of spiritual transformation of the world, not only to change the world, building cities in it and subjugating nature to himself, but also to change nature, to raise it to a completely different spiritual level. In this lay the original purpose of man – to realize tzélem elohím – the image of God. But everything changed, and what remained was adám betzalmó – in his own image, which in hidden form contains within itself the image of God.

This can be an introduction to another story about the image of man and the image of Adam, about this you and I will yet talk, with God's help, and with this we close the topic of the plural of the word Elohim.

I will add that there really are places in the Torah and in Scripture where the word Elohim is used with plural verbs, there are many other examples as well that make one think about the word Elohim, and as we read on we will certainly return to them, and this we can consider a kind of general introduction.

We will talk about the first meeting of Adam with his wife. Seeing his wife, when the Most High brought her to him, Adam, among everything else, says:

Traditionally we translate it like this (and this is a fairly correct translation): “This one will be called wife, because she was taken from the husband.” Here it is clear that Adam, who has already given names to the animals, gives the woman the name אשה (isha). This is a certain wordplay, and we will come back to it.

And today we will talk about how Adam calls himself. Adam calls himself by the word איש (ish). Apparently, since we have not encountered this word before, it really is a name that Adam gave to himself. What does the word איש (ish – husband) mean? In various places of the Tanach this word occurs in the meaning of the similar word יש (yesh – there is) – the one who exists. For example, in the book of Micha (6:10) we read: “Is there yet in the house of the sinner.” The word there is ישhere is exactly in the form, in the meaning, that Adam uses. In the second book of Shmuel (4:19), when the wise woman answers the king, she too uses the word ish: “There is no possibility, there does not exist a possibility to turn aside.” The name of David's father – Yishai is usually written ישי (yud-shin-yud), but in the book of Divrei haYamim we encounter the spelling with the letter alef. We see that the meaning of the name ish is there is (the existing one), as Adam calls himself. A very grandiose, pompous name he chose for himself. Before this, in the 2nd chapter of the book of Bereshit, we read: “There is no man to work the ground” – Veadam ayin. אין (ayin) – there is not. This opposite, the antonym of the word יש yesh (there is) – אין (there is not) can turn into a certain likeness of yesh if you rearrange the little letters in the word אין alef-yud-nun (there is not). If you swap the last two letters, the word אני (ani) – I (ego) appears. This can be an existing one who does not exist, who has simply embellished his absence. So, there is יש yesh – a genuine essence, and there is אין ayin – a false, invented essence. And Adam thinks that he really exists, that is, really continues the existence of the Creator in this world, therefore he says such a grandiose and pompous thing: “She will be called אשה isha (we will talk about the meaning of the word isha separately), because she was taken from the existing one. And I, Adam, am the existing one, she was taken from me.”

A little time will pass, one chapter, and the Most High will ask the wife how it happened that she was seduced and sinned by eating from the fruit of the tree. And the woman will answer: “hanachash (the serpent) hishiani.” הישיאני (hishiani) is an amazing word, with many meanings. And many translate it as took as a wife, I myself often use this interpretation. But if today we dive into the letters that are inside the words, we will see that the word hishiani consists of the little letter ה (hei) in front, which indicates a question mark. That is, יש (yesh) means there is, and when we ask היש (ha-yesh), this will mean is there? That is, the little letter ה (hei) can be understood as a question mark. There remain the little letters יש (yud-shin) – there is and אני ani – ein, that is, “…the serpent put me before a choice, whether I exist, whether I am יש (yesh) truly, or I – אני (ani) – am an “is” that is made out of nothing, only an empty ego. That is the test the serpent put me before: whether I am truly existing. And I ate. I did not withstand this test.” This is what the woman answers the Most High. “Nachash (the serpent) put me to the test of whether I really measure up to the title יש (yesh), to the title of an existing one, or I am simply אני (ani), that is, some kind of essence that is simply drawn by my imagination.”

And right after this we read that Adam invents a new name for the woman and now calls her by the word Chava – giving life to all the living. About the name Chava we will talk another time, it too has very many meanings, there are very many questions connected with this name, but now it is important to understand that Adam renamed his wife. Although the name אשה (Isha) remained with the woman, Adam gave her a new name, because for all that pathos and all that declarativeness of his existence, of his essence, after he fell, he understood that he did not measure up. It all began with pride, and it was pride that let Adam down to a very great degree.

Last time we talked with you about the meeting of Adam and his wife. Adam, who called himself by the word ish, which means husband, said that his wife would be called isha. ki me'ísh lukocha-zót (because from the husband was taken this one). The word lukacha (taken) – a very rare form of the verb lakachat (to take) – rarely occurs in Scripture, but one more time we will see this verb very soon, when the Most High announces to Adam the punishment and the sentence. He says: “(You will return) el-ha'adamá (to the ground), ki mimménna lukáchta (because you were taken from it).” Pay attention, this is not grammar – this is simply a wordplay: adám (man) is taken from adamá (ground), adám – adamá, ishá (taken) from ish.

How alike all this is! And how Adam was put in his place, how it was explained to him that he should not say that you gave someone life – she was taken from you and by your essence she received life! Adam learned the lesson. And immediately we read, literally right after the Most High announces to Adam the sentence, vayikrá ha'adám (and called Adam) shem ishtó (the name of his wife Chavva) – Chavá ki hi hayetá em kol-cháy (because she was the mother of all the living).

The name Chavá in ancient texts is transcribed as Cheuua, because “vva” was read more like the English w. But today we will not pay attention to phonetics, let us simply say Chavva, or Chava in modern Hebrew, who became the mother of all the living.

What does the name Chava mean? If the Torah had been written by those who lived in the times of the Second Temple, they would surely have written that Chava, Adam's wife, was called Chaya – giving life, or Chaim – life, and then it would be clear what connection there is between the name Chava and em kol-chay (mother of all the living). But the Torah was written much earlier, and therefore already in the times of the Second Temple the connection between the name Chava and the word chaim was almost lost, so lost that the translators of the Septuagint, those who translated the Torah into the Greek language, could not show this connection, therefore they translated the word Chavva as a word, and not as a name, and Zoya appeared. “Adam called his wife by the name Zoya – which means life.” The modern name Zoya, which is popular among the Slavs, is a translation of the name Chava or Chavva.

So what does the name Chava mean? Indeed, in ancient texts the name Chava means life. Yud often turns into vav, and in the ancient Semitic languages the name sounded just like that, Chava, or Cheva, or Chevat, and then everything was clear. But gradually the name moved a little away from the word chaim, and this made it possible to reveal some other meanings in this name. Some commentators say that Adam gave his wife the name Chava on purpose, implying, among other things, also a certain wordplay with the name Cheviya (snake in the Aramaic language), so that Chava would remember all her life that there had been some murky story there with the snake, and so that this event would pursue her almost all her life. This is one of the understandings of the name Chava. It is hard for me to accept such an interpretation, I often say that commentaries say more about the commentators themselves than about the text of the Torah. It seems to me that Adam, the first man, did after all want to protect his wife, and to protect her even after the fall, not to punish her with this kind of hanging a label on her.

So what does the name Chava mean, how else can it be understood? The well-known commentator Baal haTurim connects the interpretation of this name with what is written in Tehillim (19:3):

This last, revealing knowledge or articulating understanding, if translated literally, making understandable, making clear, making evident – this is the meaning of the name Chava.

There is a certain parallel that can be seen in the Aramaic translations. When the Torah tells that the Most High breathed a soul into Adam and Adam became a living soul, the Aramaic translation says: “Adam became a speaking soul.” So Chava too is a woman who possesses the ability to speak. What does this mean? The same Baal haTurim says: “Of the ten measures of conversation, of speaking, which fell into this world, women took 9 for themselves.” In the simple understanding, in the most primitive understanding, one can say: “Well, what chatterboxes all these women are. They love to talk.” That is true, sisters, women love to talk, but that is not what we are talking about. What is speech anyway? What is conversation anyway? When air comes out of a person's lungs, passes through the vocal cords, through the tongue, through the lips, through the whole speech apparatus, through the whole articulation, the sound is as it were cut into little pieces, and there results such a detailing that makes a simple breath of air, which contains no information in itself, informative, cuts it so that it becomes understandable; a person's breath turns into speech. The seed of a man, when it enters a woman, contains nothing in itself. Inside the woman, first three little tubes are born – the beginning of the embryo. Then more and more little details develop, and all the organs of a person, all the organs of a little child are formed inside the woman's womb; the details are as it were spoken out, and the child too is thus spoken out and becomes a living being. This speaking of the woman is her ability to give birth, the ability to make her husband's ideas real ideas, the ability to make any idea real. A woman gives birth not only to children, a woman gives birth to the ideas and plans of her husband. She is the instrument of their realization in life, even if she herself is not aware of it. This is the nature of Chava. Therefore women are connected with the quality bina – the ability to separate, to make understandable.

When the Most High makes the woman, it is said that the Most High veyavén. The verb “and arranged, made her into a device” is used. A woman can create some mechanisms, some interacting devices that allow ideas to be real, to touch this world and to be embodied in this world. Therefore about the woman named Chava, the very first woman, it is said that she became the mother of all living. How is that – of all living? All living is not only man, but also the crocodile, the hippopotamus, the monkey, the sperm whale and the green parrot. Why so? Because the woman Chava gave the world this very property of transforming the simple, dividing it into details, gave the property by which the holiness of the Most High becomes the holiness of everyday routine life. In this lies the uniqueness of Chava's nature. In this lies the particularity, the deep meaning of she who gives life. A person's life is the detailing of his inner essence in this world, and we will talk about this more, perhaps, when we talk about names in general. It is very important to understand that both the woman Chava in her image and all women give the whole world the ability to give birth, the ability to embody ideas.

In the first chapter of the book of Bereshit we read:

On the first day of creation there takes place not only creation itself, but also separation: God separates the light from the darkness. And on the second day too a division takes place. We read in verse 6:

The water that is above the vault will be separated from the water that is under the vault. Again an important part of creation is separation.

From verse 14 we read:

And in verse 17 we read:

We see how important the process of arranging is in the process of the making of the world. God does not only create, He also puts in order what has been created, separates one part of creation from another. And this without destroying, without removing anything from creation as something unneeded, but precisely separating, making order. This is the verb ulhavdil – to separate.

And what can this tell us, who read the Torah, who read the first chapters, the story of creation? In our life we often see something chaotic, something mixed. The world is given to us, and the world is a field on which we serve the Most High. Part of our service is the correction of the world, and the correction of the world is sometimes the separation of light from darkness, of good from evil, of the everyday from the holy. To separate is part of cooperation with the Creator. The Creator as creator not only creates, but also separates. And, cooperating with the Creator, we must learn separation, not throwing away, not removing something from our life. There is the carnal, there is the soulish, there is the spiritual – everything has its place. One cannot take something, keep one thing and throw out another. We must arrange in harmony everything we have, put everything in its place, separate and distribute. This is part of our cooperation with the Creator, part of our participation in the creation of the world, something we often forget, dividing strictly into black and white, sometimes throwing away what simply needs to be put in its place, sometimes, on the contrary, putting in its place what should have been thrown away. And, when we reread the story of creation anew, I would like us to remember that creation is also separation.

The very first, the best-known commentator of the Torah, one could say, was Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki (Rashi), who was born in 1040, died in 1105, that is, he lived about a thousand years ago. It is precisely his commentary that today is printed in practically all editions of the Torah. It is precisely his commentary that is the first one with which students usually begin to study the commentaries on the Torah. And one can say that he is the forefather of all the commentators of the Torah. The very first commentary on the very first verse of the Torah by the very first commentator discusses the word in the beginning, discusses, in fact, why does the Torah begin with the story of the creation of the world?

At the beginning Rashi says this: “Rabbi Yitzchak said: ‘It would have been fitting to begin the Torah with the verse: this month is for you the head month, which is the first commandment given to the sons of Israel.’”

There is such an obstacle in understanding the Torah: why are all these stories about the family of Adam, Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov needed? If the Torah is a book of commandments, then give it as a book of commandments, write first, second, third, like a shopping list, here, do this, do this, do this? Why then does it begin with bereshit, with the creation of the world? “Because,” continues Rabbi Yitzchak, “He showed the power of His works to his people, in order to give them the possessions of the nations, for if the nations of the world say to Israel: ‘You are robbers who seized the lands of the seven nations,’ then the sons of Israel will say to them: ‘The whole earth belongs to the Holy One, blessed be He. He created it and gave it by will to whoever is pleasing to Him. By His will He gave it to them, by His will He took it from them and gave it to us.’”

That is the kind of commentary it is. From the very beginning Rashi tries to explain why the Torah does not consist only of a list of commandments, why it turns out to be necessary to add here also the history of the Jewish people. Many commentators argue with Rashi and say that it is clear here that it was necessary to write who God is, what God is, why He is God. And, on the other hand, it is clear that there is a need to believe. Any foundation of faith is that God is absolutely all-powerful. Therefore there is no need to write some special verse as proof of this all-powerfulness. And on this dispute very much ink has been spilled, very many pens broken, very much parchment spent.

But here is what is interesting: we do not find this statement of Rabbi Yitzchak anywhere except in Rashi's commentary. Moreover, it is altogether unclear who this Rabbi Yitzchak is and why Rashi's commentary begins with the words of the little-known Rabbi Yitzchak? Rabbi Yitzchak is Rashi's father, that is why he is Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, Rabbi Shlomo son of Yitzchak. This man was righteous, but was not as learned in the Torah as his son. Nevertheless the son decided to immortalize him in the Torah and began his commentary with a question to his dad.

A very vivid memory for me is when I could walk hand in hand with my father and ask him questions. There was a time when, in my eyes, Dad knew everything. I could ask him absolutely anything at all. I think that for very many people there were such times, there were such experiences, when Dad answered everything. And sometimes even now, with some hard, complicated ideas, with some complicated questions, you want to say inside yourself: “If only I could ask Dad now.” Although I understand that my dad knew nothing at all about the questions I run into today. But there is this feeling of awe when you ask Dad a question, all-knowing Dad, and all-knowing Dad gives you an answer. And there is gratitude that we had this time when Dad answered your questions. And as a sign of gratitude for this, as a sign of respect, because our God – He is not only my God, not only my God of the sages or of the Forefathers, but also directly the God of my father, even if he was not a great scholar, a great expert in the Torah. Even if he simply taught me to say thank you to people, to give up my seat to women on public transport, to be polite and kind. Even if the father was an unbeliever, he still deserves honor. And for Rashi the father who instructed him as best he could (perhaps the father's knowledge would have been enough only for the knowledge of the very, very first grades of school), for Rashi this is so important that he begins his commentary on the Torah, the very first commentary on the very first verse, by asking Dad, putting this question to Dad, or asking Dad to come up with some question and answer on the Torah in order to begin with his words. Here is a theme of enormous importance, which is called respect, honoring the father. Gratitude to the father is an enormous school of gratitude, of memory of where you came from. And I think that this is no less important than the content of what Rabbi Yitzchak says.

And God saw the light, that it is good.

Very often I am asked questions about this verse, sternly asking: “But did God not know in advance that the light is good? Does He not possess the gift of foresight? Why did it suddenly become such a surprise for Him that the light is good? After all, throughout the whole chapter we read several times: ‘And God saw that it is good,’ and again: ‘And God saw that it is good,’ or at the end: ‘And God saw that it is very good.’ How can this be reconciled, how can this be squared with the Divine omniscience?”

It is like a child who takes in his hands a little bottle for soap bubbles, blows, sees the soap bubbles fly out, his eyes light up, and he sees that it is good. Taking the little bottle, did he not know that it would be good? Did he not know how pleasant it is to blow soap bubbles? He knew, of course, but this experience makes him feel that it is good, makes his eyes light up and fill with the feeling: “Wow, great! How beautifully it turned out. Hooray! It worked out for me! A world worked out for Me!”

It is very joyful to realize that our world was created by an Enthusiastic Most High, One Able to wonder, to be amazed, to be delighted, with eyes burning like a child's. Not only is it joyful to realize this, but it is joyful to live in this world, when God does not simply say: “Well, good. It worked out. I knew it would.” When He is not indifferent to His creation, but is delighted by it, saying: “A wonderful world worked out for Me! I looked at it, and I understood, creating a world is very good! The world is very good!” In just the same way a mother who carries a child, of course, understands how good this child will be, and when she gives birth to him, she looks at him, understands, realizes that he is good, and her heart fills with love. It is wonderful to live in a world whose Creator is God, Who Knows how to rejoice, to be delighted, Who Knows how to create with the enthusiasm of a child. It is truly wonderful to live in such a world!

But here is the second chapter, and God says the words: “Not good!” Usually this is translated as: “It is not good for man to be alone!” In fact, that is not what is written. It is written: “It is not good that man should be alone!” Man has no pair. Man worked all day, gave names to the animals: “You will be a bunny, you will be a desman, you will be an Australian tartonchik.” Every little beast received its name, every animal received its name. All the animals passed before Adam, this is long labor – each one has to be given a name. And a name is also the receiving of authority. That is how we see it in the Torah: when someone is given a name, a person receives authority over him.

Adam received authority over all the animals, and therefore, precisely therefore, no pair was found for him: you cannot get a family, you cannot build a pair by gaining authority over a person. A woman is not bought into slavery, is not bought into subjection.

And when the Most High brings sleep upon man and brings a wife to him, Adam does indeed give her a name. But notice how this happens: “This one shall be called woman, because she was taken from man.”

First of all Adam calls himself man.iThe Russian word the author uses here means both “man” and “husband.” The English says “man” throughout this passage, which keeps the pairing with “woman.” For the first time he comes up with a name for himself, and this name arises because a woman was taken from him. She gives him a name, receiving her own name. They define each other mutually. Without him, it seems, she is not a woman; without her, it seems, he is not a man. They give each other names. “This one shall be called woman, because I shall be called man.” And so in such an interaction, this it is not good for man to be alone disappears, it is not good that man should be alone disappears.

And this, probably, is the difference between good and not good that we see in this chapter. It is simply interesting to note how the Most High uses these words.

Let us read the 5th verse of the first chapter of the book of Bereshit:

Many questions, of course, can be asked regarding this verse. They have been asked, and the answers given to them are different and very diverse in their approaches, as can be said with regard to any of the verses of our weekly portion. We will dwell only on a small piece of this verse, on the words vayhi-érev – and there was evening, vayhi-vóker – and there was morning. What does this mean? Since we already read at the very beginning that the Most High called the light day and the darkness night, why not write: “And there was day, and there was night. Day one” or “And there was night, and there was day. Day one” or: “And there was darkness, and there was light. Day one”? Why does the Torah add some concepts for us here and say: “And there was evening, and there was morning”?

What are evening and morning? Let us try to immerse ourselves more deeply in these words ערב (érev) and בקר(vóker) – evening and morning.

The word ערב (érev). The root ayin-resh-vet. A word of the same root is the word mixing, as if a mixing of darkness and light. We read that the Most High separated the light from the darkness. And before this there was érev, there was a mixing of light and darkness. The word érev also means something pleasant, something that mixes well into our soul, something with which our soul joins with fondness. For example, pleasant singing is called shira riva or kol uriv – a pleasant voice. A voice that comfortably, pleasantly screws its way into our ears, something with which it is pleasant for us to join. A harmonious mixing – that is the word érev.

The word בקר (vóker). Strangely enough, a word of the same root is bakar (bulls). This is even stranger if you consider that the Russian word morning also comes, according to some versions (and there are disputes there, which I, not being a Slavist and not a Slavic linguist, do not want to get into), from a word that means the time to gather the bulls into herds, the time to inspect the bulls before bringing them into the herd. Likewise in Hebrew the word vóker comes from, is connected with the word bakar – cattle, bulls, is connected with the word levoker – to visit or to criticize, to distinguish the good from the bad. Bikoret is criticism, bikoret is quality control, that is, the ability to separate the good from the bad. Again: to distinguish light from darkness, to separate the good out of the mixed, to extract the great from the insignificant. And it can be interpreted this way too. Not of the same root, but close in semantic meaning, is the word לבקוע (livkoa) – to hatch from an egg – the first two letters of the root בק (bet-kof) are the same. This tells us that these words have a common meaning. This is your answer to the traditional philosophical question: what came first: the chicken or the egg? The light, as it were, hatches, separates from the shell of darkness, and here we see that first comes the egg, and then the chick that hatches from it, in this case the light.

In a broader understanding we can say that first Yishmael appears, then Yitzchak appears. First Esav appears, then Yaakov appears. And this is the darkness from which the light mixed with it is separated out. The separating of the light mixed with darkness out of this mixture is the morning that follows the evening. The morning is wiser than the evening, because from it the light has come out. Precisely this is a general principle of the universe, not only for these verses, but further on we will see it too: how the dry land appears out of, hatches out from under the water, and many-many-many other such examples both in Scripture and in the whole history of mankind. And in the life of each person there is vayhi-érev (and there was evening), and there is vayhi-vóker (and there was morning). And every evening has its morning, and every morning has its evening. This is how the Most High arranges His world. And what we see here is not simply some chronological elements. Every period, every human day in the spiritual sense consists of evening and morning. And this is what it is about.

Of course, from the point of view of chronology, from the point of view of observing the earth, one can say: “It was never like that, that there was evening over the whole earth, it was never like that, that there was morning over the whole earth.” But in the potential of creation such a thing can be. Therefore, from the moment of the separation of light from darkness, this is the first evening and the first morning. From this point this very principle of the alternation of evening and morning began to operate. Exactly as there is the principle of the alternation of day and night. Morning, one can say, corresponds to the whole day and is contrasted in Scripture, often contrasted with night. For example, we read: “To speak in the morning of Your mercy and of Your faithfulness in the night.” And here morning and night are antonyms. That is, morning means movement toward the light, disclosure, the separating out of light, and the day that follows it. And night means mixing, when the light must be inside the darkness in order to become aware of itself inside this darkness and to hatch out of it.

Such is the far from simple meaning embedded in these four simple words. From the very beginning, as light and darkness are separated, this very cycle arises: and there was evening, and there was morning. It is relevant for very many stories from the history of the Jewish people described in Scripture. And each of us, glancing a little into himself, can see that this is relevant for his life too. That is the angle from which one can look at these few words from the Torah.

See also the weekly Torah portions, the transcripts of the talks and the study of the portion Lech Lecha.