Parshat Bereshit4 min read

Creation Needed Measuring Rods and Human Restraint

A builder requires six tools including one humble reed. Eden falls when a fence grows taller than the tree it was meant to guard.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Builder Could Not Work Without a Reed
  2. Eve Made the Fence Higher Than the Tree
  3. Abraham Became the Eye of the World
  4. Esau's Kings Could Not Sustain the World

The Builder Could Not Work Without a Reed

Rabbi Levi taught this: even the wealthiest builder in the world needs six things. Water. Dirt. Wood. Stones. Reeds. Iron. A rich man might think he could skip the reeds, the simplest material, the cheapest, the most easily overlooked. But without the reed, he cannot measure. And without measurement, he cannot build.

The Torah was created before the world. Six words in Scripture mark its precedence: of old, from earliest time, from ancient times, from the beginning, from before, and the doubled form. Creation did not begin in darkness and stumble toward light. It was measured into speech before a single thing existed that needed measuring.

The reed matters because creation is proportional. The world is a shaped order where everything has a ratio to everything else. The humble tool is the one that makes proportion possible.

Eve Made the Fence Higher Than the Tree

God told Adam not to eat from the tree of knowledge. The prohibition was precise: do not eat from it. Adam told Eve, and somewhere in the transmission the fence grew. She told the serpent: "you shall not touch it." She had added a precaution, a margin of safety, a wider prohibition meant to keep her further from the line.

The serpent pushed her against the tree. She touched it and did not die. If touching did not kill, why should eating? The fence had made the original line seem arbitrary. A restriction added beyond what was commanded created doubt about the restriction that was actually commanded.

The midrash reads this as a lesson about proportion. A boundary placed too far from the danger it guards does not protect the original line. It replaces it. The measuring rod must mark the actual distance, not a comfortable approximation that teaches the wrong lesson about where the edge is.

Abraham Became the Eye of the World

Against these early losses, Bereshit Rabbah sets Abraham. The same word in Genesis, behibare'am, when they were created, the midrash reads as be'Avraham, for Abraham. The world leaned toward the man who would answer the call before he was born.

Abraham went to war against four mighty kings to free his nephew Lot. He did not hesitate at the odds. He took his household fighters and pursued kings with armies. The midrash sees in this the readiness of a man who understood proportion correctly. A man of his size fought kings of that size because the stakes required it, and he measured the stakes honestly.

Esau's Kings Could Not Sustain the World

Genesis lists eight kings of Edom before Israel had a king. The midrash asks why those kingdoms rose and fell. One after another, they took power and then could not hold it. Esau's descendants seized kingship before the world was ready to be governed, before the structures that could sustain governance were in place.

The kings of Edom are like a builder who begins with iron and stones and ignores the measuring reed. The structure goes up, but without proportion, the joints do not hold. Power without the discipline of accurate measurement does not last. Creation needed measuring rods. Eden needed honest fences. Abraham needed proportion. Esau's kings lacked all three.

MidrashCreationAdam EveAbrahamEsau
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Bereshit Rabbah 1:8Bereshit Rabbah

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi, quoting Rabbi Levi, offers a fascinating analogy in Bereshit Rabbah, the great rabbinic commentary on Genesis. He says a builder needs six things: water, dirt, wood, stones, reeds, and iron. Makes sense. But then he adds a little twist. Even a wealthy builder, one who seemingly doesn't need reeds, still needs them as a measuring rod. As it says in (Ezekiel 40:3), "A linen thread and a measuring rod."

What’s the point?

Well, Rabbi Levi's using this image to tell us something profound about the Torah itself. He says that just like the builder, the Torah employed six expressions of precedence to describe the creation of the world. Think of them as the foundational tools used to construct the narrative of Bereshit, Genesis.

What are these six crucial tools? They're all words signifying a time before, a sense of priority: "Of old" (kedem), "from earliest time" (me'az), "from ancient times" (meolam), "from the beginning" (merosh), and "from before" (mikadmei) – which, since it’s plural, counts as two. We find these words in (Proverbs 8:22-23), in the section that speaks of God "making" wisdom.

So, why this analogy? Why the builder and his tools?

Perhaps it's to show us that even the most divine act, the creation of the universe, has a structure, a plan. It wasn't random. It was built with intention, using specific tools, specific words chosen with care. And just like the reeds that even a wealthy builder needs for measurement, these words of precedence are essential for understanding the Torah's account of creation. They provide the framework, the context, the very measuring rod we need to grasp the magnitude of what came before.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What are the measuring rods in our own lives? What tools do we use to build our understanding of the world, of ourselves, of our place in the grand scheme of things? And are we using the right ones?

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Bereshit Rabbah 19:3Bereshit Rabbah

The verse reads, "The woman said to the serpent: 'From the fruit of the trees of the garden we may eat'" (Genesis 3:2). But where was Adam in all this? Why wasn't the serpent talking to him?

The rabbis of the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), those ancient interpreters of scripture, weren't shy about wrestling with these questions. Bereshit Rabbah, a classical collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Genesis, offers some intriguing possibilities.

One opinion, attributed to Abba bar Korya, suggests a rather earthy reason: Adam was, shall we say, "engaged in the way of nature" – that is, he was being intimate with Eve. Afterwards, he was asleep. A very human explanation, wouldn’t you say?

Another, more mystical explanation is offered by the Rabbis in Bereshit Rabbah. They suggest that God, blessed be He, was taking Adam on a kind of cosmic tour! God was showing Adam the world, pointing out the best places to plant and sow. As the prophet Jeremiah says, "In a land that no man has ever crossed, and where no person [adam] has ever dwelled" (Jeremiah 2:6) – meaning, according to this interpretation, even the first Adam didn't dwell there, because God showed him places not fit for settlement. Imagine Adam getting a Divine real estate tour!

Then, the story turns to Eve's words to the serpent. She says, "But from the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, God said: 'You shall not eat of it, nor shall you touch it, lest you die'" (Genesis 3:3).

Notice something interesting here? Did God actually say, "nor shall you touch it"?

The Midrash picks up on this discrepancy. It connects Eve's addition to the proverb, "Do not add to His words, lest He rebuke you, and you will be found to be false" (Proverbs 30:6). Rabbi Ḥiyya, in Bereshit Rabbah, uses an analogy: You shouldn't make the fence around an orchard taller than the trees themselves, lest the fence fall and damage what it's supposed to protect. A fence is needed, sure, but it shouldn't harm what it's guarding.

God, according to this understanding, simply said, "As on the day that you eat of it [you shall die]" (Genesis 2:17). Eve, in her attempt to create an extra layer of protection, added to God's command.

And what was the result? The serpent, ever the opportunist, used Eve's addition against her! As the Midrash tells it, the serpent pushed Eve against the tree. "See," he said, "you didn't die! Just as you didn't die from touching it, so you will not die from eating of it. Rather [the real reason God forbade you to eat of it is:] 'for God knows that on the day [you eat from it…you will be as God, knowing good from evil]'" (Genesis 3:5).

So, what does this all mean? Maybe it's a cautionary tale about the dangers of adding to God's word. Maybe it's about the importance of understanding the true nature of a prohibition. Or maybe, just maybe, it's about the serpent's cunning ability to exploit even the smallest of human errors.

Whatever the takeaway, this passage from Bereshit Rabbah offers a fascinating glimpse into how the rabbis grappled with the complexities of the Genesis story. It reminds us that even the most familiar tales can hold surprising depths, waiting to be uncovered.

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Bereshit Rabbah 42:7Bereshit Rabbah

Bereshit Rabbah 42, a fascinating passage from the Midrash, the body of ancient rabbinic interpretations of Scripture. This passage looks at Genesis 14, specifically verses 4 through 12, and it reveals some pretty mind-bending ideas about destiny, divine foresight, and even the power of Abraham.

The passage starts with a seemingly straightforward military campaign: "They turned back, and came to Ein Mishpat, which is Kadesh, and smote the entire field of the Amalekites, and also the Emorites, who reside in Ḥatzetzon Tamar" (Genesis 14:7). But the rabbis, never content with the surface level, dig deeper.

Rabbi Aḥa offers a striking interpretation of "Ein Mishpat," which literally translates to "the spring of judgment." He suggests that the invading kings weren't just after territory; they were after the "eyeball [ein] of the world." And who is this eyeball? None other than Abraham! According to Rabbi Aḥa, Abraham was so righteous that God watched over the world for his sake. These kings, then, sought to blind the "eye [ayin]" that overcame the attribute of justice [mishpat] in the world. Astonishing, isn't it?

Then there's the curious mention of the Amalekites. "And smote the entire field of the Amalekites." But here’s the kicker: Amalek wasn't even born yet! So why are they mentioned here? The Midrash answers that God "tells the outcome from the outset" (Isaiah 46:10). In other words, God, knowing the future, can name places after future events. This hints at the idea that even historical narratives are imbued with a sense of preordained destiny.

The text also identifies Ḥatzetzon Tamar as Ein Gedi, known for its dates (temaraya), a connection explicitly made in II (Chronicles 20:2). These little details enrich the narrative and ground it in a specific geographical reality.

The narrative then shifts to a battle between four kings and five, with the four kings emerging victorious. "The valley of Sidim was full of clay pits and the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah fled, and they fell there, and they who remained fled to the mountain" (Genesis 14:10). The Midrash then presents a debate between Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Neḥemya about who fell into the pits – the kings or the multitudes? Rabbi Yehuda believes the multitudes fell, while Rabbi Neḥemya argues it was the kings. The text acknowledges a difficulty with Rabbi Neḥemya's view, as (Genesis 14:17) indicates the King of Sodom survived.

And here's where it gets really interesting. Rabbi Azarya and Rabbi Yonatan ben Ḥagai, citing Rabbi Yitzḥak, bring in the story of Abraham's miraculous escape from the fiery furnace. They suggest that some idolaters doubted the miracle. However, when the King of Sodom was rescued from the clay pit, those doubters retroactively believed in Abraham's rescue. It's like the King of Sodom's salvation served as proof, after the fact, of Abraham's earlier miracle!

Finally, the passage touches on the capture of Lot, Abraham's nephew. "They took Lot, son of Abram’s brother, and his property and they went, and he resided in Sodom" (Genesis 14:12). The Midrash emphasizes the harsh treatment Lot received, suggesting he was placed in a cage. Why such harshness? Because, as (Proverbs 13:20) states, "One who walks with the wise will become wise, and one who consorts with fools will be broken." Lot's choice to live in Sodom ultimately led to his misfortune.

So, what can we take away from all of this? This passage from Bereshit Rabbah isn't just a retelling of a biblical story. It's a profound exploration of themes like divine providence, the power of righteousness, and the consequences of our choices. It suggests that the past, present, and future are intricately connected, and that even seemingly minor events can have profound implications. It makes you wonder, doesn't it, how our own actions might ripple through time, influencing events in ways we can't even imagine?

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Bereshit Rabbah 83:1Bereshit Rabbah

He starts with a verse from Ezekiel, "Of oaks from Bashan they crafted your oars; [your rudder they made of ivory inlaid in boxwood from the isles of the Kitites]" (Ezekiel 27:6). What's the connection? Rabbi Yitzḥak sees idolaters – and in this context, he's focusing on Edom – as being like a ship. a ship is built from different pieces, sourced from different places. The mast comes from one forest, the anchors from another. Similarly, says Rabbi Yitzḥak, the Edomites kept pulling their kings from all over the map. "[Hadad died, and] Samla of Masreka [reigned in his stead]" (Genesis 36:36). "[Samla died,] and Shaul of Reḥovot of the river [reigned in his stead]" (Genesis 36:37). The idea is that they lacked a cohesive, stable leadership. They'd just grab whoever was available, wherever they happened to be. This reminds us that true strength comes from unity and a shared foundation, not just a collection of disparate parts.

It wasn't just about the location of the kings. It was about the fleeting nature of their power. Rabbi Yitzḥak connects this to a proverb: "An estate seized hastily at the start will not be blessed at its end" (Proverbs 20:21). This, he argues, is Edom. They got their kings before Israel did. They had that initial head start, that "estate seized hastily." But, according to Bereshit Rabbah, that wasn't a sign of lasting success.

The end of that proverb, "will not be blessed at its end," finds its echo in the prophecy of Obadiah: "saviors will ascend Mount Zion [to judge the mountain of Esau]" (Obadiah 1:21). Edom, often associated with Esau, Jacob's brother, is ultimately destined for judgment. The early advantage, the hastily seized power, doesn't guarantee a positive outcome.

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