Parshat Bereshit7 min read

God Asked the Angels Before Making Human Beings and Moses Objected

God dictated the words let us make man, and Moses stopped writing. Heretics will read that and claim there are two powers, he said.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Moses Put Down the Pen
  2. What the Council Signed Off On
  3. The Frog Carried the Scorpion Across
  4. The Smallest Thing I Made in Six Days
  5. The Bow Is Pointed the Other Way
God Asked the Angels Before Making Human Beings and Moses Objected Click for full size

Moses Put Down the Pen

God dictated and Moses wrote it down, line after line, and then the dictation reached the sixth day and Moses stopped.

Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.

Us. Our. Moses had spent his life telling a nation of former idol-worshippers that there is one, and here was the plural, going into the permanent record in his own handwriting.

"Master of the Universe," he said, "why are You giving heretics an opening? They will read this and say there are two powers."

"Write what I tell you."

Whoever wants to stumble, God said, will stumble. And let everyone who comes into the world learn this from Me instead: when a great one sets out to do a great thing, he asks the counsel of someone smaller than himself. When I came to make a human being, I took the advice of My ministering angels.

Moses wrote it. The plural is still there.

What the Council Signed Off On

The angels were not asked to vote. They were shown a plan, the way a court is shown one, so that heaven would be on record as having deliberated before the thing was let loose.

What was shown to them was not a man. Rabbi Yirmeya ben Elazar said the first creature was made male and female in one body. Rabbi Shmuel bar Nahman went further: it had two faces, one at the front and one at the back, joined, and afterward God sawed it down the middle and finished the two raw sides into backs. Somebody objected that the verse says a rib was taken. He answered that the word also means a side, the way the Tabernacle has sides.

Others said the thing lay unformed and stretched from one end of the world to the other, east to west, top to bottom, filling even the empty places, and had to be pressed down to a workable size.

Then it was made last, after the water swarmed and the earth brought out its creatures. And so, said the sages of that generation, a man who has earned it is told: you came before the ministering angels. And a man who has not is told: the fly came before you. The gnat came before you. This earthworm came before you.

The Frog Carried the Scorpion Across

Nothing in the world is spare. Not the flies, not the fleas, not the gnats. Errands get run through all of them.

A man standing on a riverbank watched a frog swim across with a scorpion riding on its back. He watched it climb out on the far side and let the scorpion off. Then the wailing started in the town, because a scorpion had stung somebody and the man was dead. And the frog swam back over with the scorpion on its back again and put it down where it had found it.

Rabbi Yanai sat teaching at the city gate and saw a snake coming at him. He drove it off to one side and it came round the other. He drove it off there and it came round again. "This one is on an errand," he said, and let it go by, and the report went through the town within the hour that a snake had bitten so-and-so and he had died.

Rabbi Elazar was sitting in the outhouse when a Roman came in and made him get up and took the seat. "That did not happen for nothing," Elazar said. A snake came out and killed the man where he sat.

At Caesarea, Elazar found a thighbone rolling along the shore. He buried it. It rolled back out. He buried it again and it came out again, so he left it alone. Some days later an imperial courier tripped over that bone and died on the road, and when they went through his bag they found the letters he was carrying against the Jews of Caesarea.

The Smallest Thing I Made in Six Days

Titus went into the Holy of Holies with his sword out and cut the two curtains. He brought two prostitutes up onto the altar. He came out with the blade wet, and some say that was the blood of the offerings and some say it was the blood of the goat of the Day of Atonement, and he held it up and said this is the blood of their God.

He bundled every vessel in the Temple into the curtain, slung it over his shoulder, and went down to his ship saying that beating a king out in the wilderness is nothing, but beating him inside his own palace is something.

A wave came up at him in open water. He laughed at it. Their God only has power over water, he said. He drowned the generation of Enosh with water, He drowned the generation of the flood with water, He drowned Pharaoh in water. In His own house He could not stand up to me, and now He waits for me out here.

Then God swore an oath. Wicked one, by your life, I will take you with the smallest creature I made in the six days of creation.

The sea went flat. Rome came out to cheer him home. He went to the bathhouse, and he came out and they poured him a cup, and a gnat went up his nose.

It stayed there and it chewed. For years. When they finally opened his skull the thing inside had grown to the size of a bird weighing two pounds. Rabbi Elazar bar Rabbi Yosei said he saw it in Rome himself, set on a balance against a two-pound weight, and the scales stood level. They put it in a bowl. As it dried out, Titus dried out with it, and when it flew off, so did he.

The Bow Is Pointed the Other Way

All that restraint at the start of the world was not decoration.

Every generation before Noah fathered children at a hundred years, or two hundred. Noah waited five hundred. His fount was stopped on purpose, because sons born earlier would have grown up in the generation of the flood and been swept off with it, and even Japheth, the eldest, was not yet old enough to be held accountable when the water came. He was planted in the house of the Lord and his blossoms came late so that they would open after the storm.

Then a bow went up in the cloud. My bow, kashti. Some heard in it kishuti, my likeness, something made to resemble Me, and then pulled back from what they had just said, because to give God a shape visible in the sky is the beginning of idols. It is like the straw of the grain, they decided. Attached to it. Nothing like it.

What is left is the shape itself. A man with a hot iron in his hand comes down toward his son with it and brings it down on his servant instead. At the sea, the strict justice that had been drawn up in front of Israel swung around and stood behind them, and fell on Egypt. And the bow that hangs in the cloud hangs with its back to the ground and its string toward the earth, so that whatever it is loaded with is pointed away from the people below it.


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From the tradition

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6 sources

The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Bereshit Rabbah 8:1Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

Rabbi Yoḥanan starts us off with a verse from Psalms (139:5): "Back and front [ahor vakedem], You shaped me…" Ahor vakedem, it's a phrase that hints at so much. Rabbi Yoḥanan suggests it means that if we're worthy, we partake of two worlds, this one, and the World to Come. But if not? Then we'll have to give an accounting for our actions. A sobering thought.

Then Rabbi Yirmeya ben Elazar drops a bombshell: When God created Adam, the first human, He created him androgynous! As it says, "He created them male and female" (Genesis 5:2).

Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman takes it even further. He suggests that Adam was created with two faces, two conjoined bodies, male and female. Then, God "sawed him in two," separating the female part and giving him "two backs." Now, some might object: What about the verse that says God took one of Adam's ribs [tzalotav] to create Eve? Rabbi Shmuel counters that tzela doesn't necessarily mean "rib." It can also mean "side," like the side of the Tabernacle, as we see in (Exodus 26:20).

The interpretations just keep getting wilder. Rabbi Tanḥuma, in the name of Rabbi Benaya and Rabbi Berekhya, cites Rabbi Elazar in saying that Adam was initially created as an unformed being stretching from one end of the world to the other! As it says in (Psalms 139:16), "Your eyes saw my unformed parts…"

Rabbi Yehoshua bar Neḥemya and Rabbi Yehuda bar Simon, again citing Rabbi Elazar, add that Adam filled the entire world, east to west, north to south, even filling the empty spaces! The prooftext? Again, that verse, "Back [ahor] and front [kedem], You shaped me…" (Psalms 139:5). It's a truly cosmic vision of humanity's origins.

Rabbi Elazar offers another perspective: Adam was created last among the acts of creation on the last day – that is, his body was the last thing made on Friday – but his spirit was the first thing made on that day. Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish tweaks this, saying Adam was last on the sixth day, but first on the first day, connecting Adam's spirit to the spirit of the messianic king, based on (Isaiah 11:2).

These rabbis are really playing with the concepts of first and last, ahor vakedem, to teach us something profound about humanity's place in the universe.

Rav Naḥman offers a slightly different take: Adam was last in creation, but first in punishment. As it says regarding the Flood, "He obliterated all existence…from man, to animal…" (Genesis 7:23). Rabbi Shmuel adds that Adam also comes last in praising God, only after the heavens, the sea creatures, and the depths have had their turn.

Rabbi Samlai explains this by saying that just as Adam's praise comes after the animals, so too did his creation. First the water swarms (Genesis 1:20), then the earth produces (Genesis 1:24), and only then does God say, "Let us make Man in our image."

So, what are we to make of all this? These seemingly contradictory interpretations paint a complex picture of humanity's role in creation. We are both the culmination of God's work and a late arrival on the scene. We are both physical beings bound to the earth and spiritual beings connected to the divine. We are both capable of great praise and subject to harsh judgment.

Perhaps the key takeaway is this: being created "in God's image" is not a static concept. It's a dynamic, ever-evolving process. It's something we strive for, something we embody to varying degrees, and something that ultimately connects us to something far greater than ourselves. It's a responsibility, a privilege, and a profound mystery all rolled into one. And as we continue to confront this ancient question, we find ourselves drawn deeper into the heart of what it means to be human.

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Bereshit Rabbah 10:7Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

We might swat them away without a second thought, but according to the Rabbis, even these creatures have a purpose. As we find in Bereshit Rabbah, even these so-called "superfluous" beings are part of creation, and God uses them to carry out His will.

It’s a powerful reminder that everything, no matter how small, is interconnected and plays a role in the grand scheme of things. The Rabbis tell us that the Holy One, blessed be He, executes His missions through all things – "even by means of a serpent, even by means of a gnat, even by means of a frog.”

To illustrate this idea, the text shares a series of fascinating stories.

First, Rabbi Aḥa tells of a man who saw a frog transporting a scorpion across a river. Why? Because, as the story goes, the scorpion was on a mission to kill someone. Once the deed was done, the frog dutifully carried it back.

Then there's the story Rabbi Pinḥas tells, in the name of Rabbi Ḥanan of Tzippori, about a man who unknowingly saved himself from a serpent's venom by wearing a particular herb as a wreath. The serpent was sent to kill him, but the herb, apparently an antidote, initially thwarted its mission. However, fate, or perhaps divine will, eventually caught up with the man.

Rabbi Yanai, sitting at the entrance to his city, observed a serpent persistently trying to enter. No matter how many times he chased it away, it kept returning. He declared, "This one is on his way to perform a mission." Shortly after, news arrived that someone in the city had been fatally bitten by a snake.

Rabbi Elazar had a similar experience. A Roman rudely interrupted him at the latrine, only to be killed by a serpent soon after. Rabbi Elazar saw this as divine retribution, quoting (Isaiah 43:4): “I placed a man [adam] in your stead” – interpreting "man" as referring to Edom, a symbolic stand-in for the Romans.

These tales highlight a recurring theme: seemingly random events are often part of a larger, divine plan. Even the smallest creatures and most mundane objects can be instruments of God’s will.

Another story recounts how Rabbi Yitzḥak ben Elazar saw a thighbone rolling along the shore of Caesarea, always returning no matter how many times he tried to push it away. He recognized it was “prepared to perform a mission.” Days later, a courier tripped on the bone and died, revealing that he was carrying evil decrees against the Jews of Caesarea.

But perhaps the most dramatic story involves Titus, the Roman emperor who destroyed the Second Temple. The narrative depicts his sacrilegious acts within the Holy of Holies, his boastful claims of defeating God, and his subsequent demise.

The story details how Titus entered the Holy of Holies, desecrated the Temple, and blasphemed against God. He claimed victory over God, boasting that he had defeated Him in His own palace. As he sailed away, a storm arose, but Titus dismissed it, believing that God's power was limited to water.

However, divine retribution was not to be avoided. As the text recounts, God vowed to punish Titus with the smallest of creatures. Upon arriving in Rome, a gnat entered Titus's nose and began to gnaw at his brain, growing to an enormous size. Doctors eventually removed the growth, finding it weighed two pounds. As it withered, Titus withered along with it, until finally, the gnat flew away, and Titus died.

This final story serves as a powerful example of divine justice. Even the mighty Titus, conqueror of Jerusalem, was ultimately brought down by a tiny gnat. It's a stark reminder that no one, no matter how powerful, is beyond the reach of God's judgment.

So, what are we to take away from these stories? They teach us to look beyond the surface, to recognize that everything in creation has a purpose, and that even the smallest of things can play a significant role in the unfolding of divine will. They urge us to be mindful of the interconnectedness of all things, and to appreciate the hidden hand of God at work in the world around us. Perhaps the next time you see a fly, a flea, or a gnat, you'll remember these tales and consider the possibility that it, too, is on a mission.

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Bereshit Rabbah 26:2Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

The familiar story is this: the ark, the flood, the animals two by two. But have you ever stopped to wonder about the timing of it all? It's not just about the rain, but about the generations that came before and after.

(Genesis 6:10) tells us, "Noah begot three sons, Shem, Ḥam, and Yefet." Simple enough. But Bereshit Rabbah 26, a midrash, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, dives much deeper. It uses (Psalm 92:14), "Planted in the House of the Lord, they blossom in the courts of our God," to understand Noah's place in the grand scheme. "Planted in the House of the Lord" is Noah himself, safe within the ark. And "they blossom in the courts of our God" refers to the birth of Shem, Ḥam, and Yefet, his legacy after the flood.

(Psalm 92:15) says, "They will continue to yield fruit even in old age; they will remain full and fresh." Bereshit Rabbah connects this to the fact that Noah fathered children at the ripe old age of 500! Why so late? Rabbi Yudan asks this very question. most of the generations before Noah were having kids at 100 or 200 years old. Why the delay for Noah? The answer, according to Rabbi Yudan, is rather profound. God, blessed be He, considered the potential outcomes. If Noah had children earlier, and those children turned out wicked, God wouldn't want to destroy them in the flood. But if they were righteous, it would mean Noah would have to build even MORE arks!

So, God, in a way, suppressed Noah’s ability to procreate, holding back the flood until the right moment. God weighing the options, considering the consequences, not just of the flood itself, but of the generations that would follow.

Rabbi Nehemya, quoting Rabbi Eliezer son of Rabbi Yosei HaGelili, adds another layer. He suggests that even Yefet, the eldest son, wouldn’t be 100 years old when the flood came, thus not yet subject to divine punishment. In those days, apparently, 100 was the age of accountability.

And speaking of punishment, the discussion then shifts to the nature of death itself. Rabbi Ḥanina boldly proclaims that in the future, there will be no death except for idolaters. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi goes even further, saying there will be no death for anyone, citing (Isaiah 25:8): "He will destroy death forever, and the Lord God will wipe tears from all faces."

But wait, what about (Isaiah 65:20), which says, "As the youth will die when he is one hundred years old"? Rabbi Ḥanina uses this verse to support his claim, suggesting that at 100, one becomes liable to punishment, implying a different kind of "death." Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi interprets it to mean that at that age, one becomes fit for punishment, not necessarily that they will die.

Then there's (Psalm 49:15), "Like sheep, they are destined for the grave; death will shepherd them. The upright will rule over them." This seems to contradict the idea of eternal life. Rabbi Ḥanina uses this to further support his claim. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi says that in this world, there were figures like Pharaoh, Sisera, and Sennacherib who were punished, but in the future, the Angel of Death will be the permanent sentry administering eternal punishment.

Those who are alive at that time will not die. The verse, "The upright will rule over them in the morning; their form will be consumed in the grave, an abode [zevul] for him" (Psalms 49:15) teaches that the grave may wear away, but their bodies will not wear away, but will be subject to eternal torment. Why to that extent? Because they extended their hands against the Temple, as it is written: "I have built You an abode [zevul]" (I (Kings 8:1)3).

A future where death is abolished for some, but replaced by eternal torment for others. It all hinges on our actions, our choices, and our relationship with the divine.

So, what do we take away from this deep dive into Bereshit Rabbah 26? Perhaps it's a reminder that even in the story of Noah, a story we think we know so well, there are layers upon layers of meaning, waiting to be uncovered. And it’s evidence of the enduring power of Jewish tradition to confront the biggest questions of life, death, and everything in between.

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Bereshit Rabbah 35:3Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

In fact, according to Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of Rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Genesis, the rainbow holds profound meaning, a glimpse, perhaps, into the very nature of God.

(Genesis 9:13) states, “My rainbow I have set in the cloud, and it shall be as a sign of a covenant between Me and the earth.” But the Rabbis dig deeper. They ask: What does it really mean that God "sets" a rainbow? The Hebrew word for rainbow, kashti, sounds similar to the word for "My likeness," kishuti. Does this mean the rainbow is a representation of God? Can we even imagine what that would look like?

The text immediately questions this, asking, "Is that possible?" Can we speak of God as having a visual representation? The answer, of course, is no. Instead, the text offers a clever analogy: it's like the straw (kashin) of the grain. The straw is connected to the grain, but utterly different from it. The rainbow, similarly, reminds us of God's presence, but it's not actually a likeness of the Divine. It's a symbol, a reminder of the covenant, a promise.

Here's another fascinating idea. Remember the story of Noah and the flood? God promises never again to destroy the world with a flood. So, what happens when God is angry? Rabbi Yudan, in the name of Rabbi Yudan bar Simon, offers a powerful image: Imagine someone holding a hot metal tool, ready to strike their child in anger. Instead, they strike their servant. Similarly, when God brings clouds, intending perhaps to punish humankind, God deflects that punishment onto uninhabited areas, where it won't cause destruction. It's a powerful image of divine restraint and mercy.

The rainbow, then, is a reminder of that restraint, a symbol of the "eternal covenant between God and every living creature." The text even links the rainbow to the middot, the divine attributes. The rainbow, it says, represents the supernal attribute of justice. One might think of justice as harsh, but in this context, it's tempered by mercy and compassion.

This idea of departing and returning for a blessing is a recurring theme. The text explores it through several stories. We hear about Joshua blessing the tribes of Reuben and Gad, Solomon dismissing the people after dedicating the Temple, and Elisha and the woman with the oil. In each case, there's an initial departure, followed by a return, and a greater blessing bestowed upon the second parting. It suggests that repeated connection, continued engagement with the sacred, deepens the blessing.

One of the accompanying Torah scholars expounds that the pillar of cloud that protected the Israelites in the desert, representing divine justice, was redirected by God to strike the Egyptians instead. Here, we see the earlier parable of the father with the hot metal tool played out on a grand scale.

Finally, the text concludes with a story about Artevan sending a priceless jewel to Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, the patriarch. Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi sends back a mezuza, the small scroll containing verses from the Torah that is affixed to doorframes in Jewish homes. Artevan is confused: "I sent you something priceless, and you sent me something worth a few coins?" Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi responds that his gift is far more valuable, because it contains the words of the Torah and protects the recipient. As (Proverbs 6:22) says, "It [the Torah] will guide you when you walk...when you lie down, it will protect you...and when you awaken, it will be your conversation."

The mezuza, then, is a constant reminder of God’s presence, a physical manifestation of the covenant represented by the rainbow. And like the rainbow, it’s a symbol that points to something far greater than itself. It's a reminder that true value isn't always measured in gold or jewels, but in the wisdom and protection offered by a connection to the Divine.

So, next time you see a rainbow, take a moment. Remember the covenant, the promise of restraint, and the enduring connection between humanity and the Divine. And maybe, just maybe, you'll catch a glimpse of something truly extraordinary.

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Vayikra Rabbah 22:4Vayikra Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

Vayikra Rabbah 22, a fascinating collection of stories and teachings, explores just that. It suggests that everything – from frogs to plants to even inanimate objects – can be instruments of divine will.

One story tells of a man observing a frog ferrying a scorpion across a river. He marvels, thinking, "This one is prepared to perform its mission." And, the scorpion stings someone, causing their death. The frog then carries the scorpion back. The sound of wailing fills the city. It's a stark reminder that even seemingly insignificant actions can have profound consequences.

Rabbi Pinḥas, citing Rabbi Ḥanin of Tzippori, shares a similar tale. A man in the Beit Shofarei Valley fashions a wreath from a shrub. When he kills a snake, a snake charmer examines the dead reptile and is curious who killed it. The man admits it was him. The snake charmer, realizing the shrub is protecting the man, asks him to remove it. The moment he does, the snake’s venom instantly kills him. The shrub, an ordinary plant, was fulfilling its protective mission until the very end.

These stories aren’t just strange anecdotes. They point to a deeper truth: that everything in creation has a purpose, a role to play in the grand scheme of things. Even seemingly harmful creatures, like scorpions and snakes, might be acting as agents of divine justice.

Rabbi Yanai, teaching at the city gate, witnesses a snake behaving erratically. He declares, "This one is prepared to perform its mission." Moments later, someone in the city is bitten and dies. Rabbi Elazar experiences a similar situation with a Roman who disrespects him. A snake appears and kills the Roman, prompting Rabbi Elazar to quote (Isaiah 43:4): "I placed a person in your stead."

And it's not just living things. Rabbi Elazar also encounters a thighbone that refuses to stay buried. Eventually, it trips up a Roman courier carrying evil decrees against the Jews of Caesarea, leading to his death. The bone, seemingly inanimate, becomes an instrument of justice.

The text continues with more extraordinary tales. Rabbi Shimon observes a hoopoe, a non-kosher bird, building a nest. When Rabbi Shimon interferes, the hoopoe uses a magical herb to undo his actions. Rabbi Yannai's donkey eats a herb and becomes blind, then eats another and regains its sight. A man returning from Babylon witnesses birds using an herb to revive the dead and decides to use it to resurrect the dead of Israel, but when he tries it on a dead lion, the revived lion devours him! As the saying goes: If you have performed good for the wicked, you have performed evil. Do not perform good for the wicked, and evil will not befall you.

These stories, found within Vayikra Rabbah, may seem outlandish, but they offer a profound message about the interconnectedness of all things and the potential for even the smallest elements of creation to play a role in the divine plan.

Even water, Rabbi Tanhuma reminds us, can fulfill God's mission. He tells of a man afflicted with boils who is healed by immersing himself in the Spring of Miriam in Tiberias. This spring, a miraculous source of water that accompanied the Israelites in the wilderness, is said to be located in the Sea of Tiberias. According to Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba, if you climb Mount Yeshimon, you might see a sieve-like item in the sea, and that is the spring of Miriam. Rabbi Yoḥanan ben Nuri adds that it's aligned opposite the middle gate of the ancient synagogue of Tiberias.

What are we to make of these stories? Are they literal accounts of miraculous events, or allegories meant to teach us a deeper truth? Perhaps it's both. They remind us to be mindful of our actions and to recognize the potential for the divine to manifest in the most unexpected ways. They challenge us to see the world not as a collection of random events, but as a weaving with purpose and meaning, where every thread, no matter how small, plays a vital role. So, the next time you see a frog, a plant, or even a stray bone, remember Vayikra Rabbah 22, and wonder: what mission might this be prepared to perform?

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Midrash Aggadah, Genesis 1:26Midrash Aggadah

Translation of the source text.Midrash Aggadah (Buber), Public Domain, on Sefaria · CC-BY-SA

"And God said: Let us make man" (Genesis 1:26). To whom did He say it? To the angels, who are spirits; therefore He took counsel with them in the creation of man. And do not be astonished, for everything that the Holy One, blessed be He, does with the children of men, He takes counsel with the angels. So too Micaiah said to Ahab, "I saw the Lord sitting upon His throne, and all the host of heaven," etc., "and the Lord said: Who shall entice Ahab," etc. (1 Kings 22:19-20). And when the Holy One, blessed be He, told Moses our teacher to write the Torah, the Holy One, blessed be He, said to him: Moses, write "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness." He said before Him: Master of the Universe, why do You give an opening to the heretics to say that there are two powers? The Holy One, blessed be He, said to Moses: Write what I tell you, and whoever wishes to err, let him err; for from Me all who come into the world shall learn that if a great one comes to do a thing, he should take counsel from a lesser one, for behold, I, when I came to create man, took counsel with My ministering angels.

Another interpretation: "And God said: Let us make man," etc. With whom did He take counsel? With the Torah did He take counsel, for all its commandments gave Him counsel that he should create man, as it is said, "Counsel is mine, and sound wisdom" (Proverbs 8:14).

"In our image" (Genesis 1:26): that he should have the spirit of life. "After our likeness": that he should have wisdom and understanding, from the wellspring of the wisdom above; and as you say, "Yet You have made him but little lower than God, and have crowned him with glory and honor" (Psalms 8:6), this refers to the day of death, when he shall behold the glory of the Creator.

"And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea" (Genesis 1:26): because he had wisdom and understanding to recognize his Creator, therefore He gave him the ability to rule over His creatures.

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