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Joshua Was Written Into Creation Before He Was Born

Before Joshua crossed the Jordan, his name was encoded into the first day of creation. The rabbis who found this were not surprised. They expected it.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Light That Appeared Five Times
  2. What They Found in the Fifth Occurrence
  3. The Rabbi Who Found Moses There Too
  4. Why the Torah Starts With Creation Rather Than Commandments

The Light That Appeared Five Times

In the account of the first day of creation, the word for light appears five times. The sun and moon had not yet been made. Stars did not exist. What God called into being on the first day was a primordial light, different from and prior to any physical luminosity, and the word for it appears exactly five times in the opening passage of Genesis. The rabbis of Bereshit Rabbah, the midrashic collection on Genesis compiled in the Land of Israel around the fourth to fifth century CE, counted the occurrences and found a pattern: the Torah has five books. Each occurrence of light on the first day corresponds to one of the five books of Moses. The structure of the cosmos and the structure of the Torah are, in this reading, the same structure.

This was the framework. Inside it, the rabbis began locating specific people and events in the specific verses of creation. If the words of Genesis encoded the Torah, then the words of Genesis also encoded everything the Torah described. They were looking at the source code of history, and they were reading it with great care.

What They Found in the Fifth Occurrence

The fifth occurrence of light in the creation narrative corresponded to the fifth book of the Torah, Deuteronomy. And in Deuteronomy, the central human figure at the threshold of everything is Joshua ben Nun, the man who would take the people across the Jordan after Moses died. The midrashic tradition preserved in Bereshit Rabbah finds Joshua's name encoded in the opening verses of Genesis before he had parents, before the tribe of Ephraim existed, before Israel was a people at all. He was written in at the beginning.

This was not read as poetic license. The rabbis believed that divine texts were not composed the way human texts were composed. A human author uses words to describe events. The Torah was understood to exist prior to creation itself, to have been the blueprint by which God made the world. Every name in it was already present before the person bearing that name was born. Joshua's presence in Genesis 1 was not a hidden allusion. It was his actual prior existence in the structure of reality.

The Rabbi Who Found Moses There Too

The same investigation that located Joshua in the creation account also located Moses. The tradition preserved across Bereshit Rabbah and related midrashim identifies specific phrases in Genesis 1 as encoding Moses's name, his mission, the Torah he would carry, and the period of his leadership. Moses and Joshua appear together in the text of the first day the way they appeared together at the end of Moses's life, Joshua being presented to the people as the one who would continue what Moses had begun.

The Rabbi Ilfa tradition, preserved in the same context, adds a layer of precision: the encoding was not merely nominal. The relationships between Moses and Joshua, the succession, the transfer of authority, the specific character of Joshua's leadership compared to Moses's, all of these were already present in the opening verses of Genesis as structural elements of the creation narrative. What happened at the Jordan when Moses handed leadership to Joshua was the surface expression of something written at the base of the world.

Why the Torah Starts With Creation Rather Than Commandments

The midrashic tradition asked a question that seems obvious once it is asked: why does the Torah begin with the creation of the world? It is a book of commandments for the Jewish people. It could have begun with the first commandment given to Israel, which appears in Exodus 12. Instead it begins with the creation of the universe, six chapters before Abraham is born.

The answer given in Bereshit Rabbah is a legal one. The nations of the world would one day accuse Israel of stealing the Land of Canaan from the Canaanites. Israel's response would need to be grounded in something more foundational than conquest or covenant. It would need to be grounded in creation itself: God created the world, God owns everything in it, God gave the land to whomever God chose, and the record of that choice is the Torah, which is why the Torah begins at the beginning of everything rather than at the beginning of the legal code. Joshua's name was in Genesis 1 not by accident but because the title to the land he would eventually cross the Jordan to claim was established at the moment the land itself was made.

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Bereshit Rabbah 3:5Bereshit Rabbah

It's like the whole thing is one giant, intricate tapestry.

Take the creation of light, for example. The very first "Let there be light!" in Genesis. Rabbi Simon, in Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, sees something incredible in this moment. He suggests that the five mentions of "light" in the creation story actually correspond to the five books of the Torah, the Chumash. It’s a beautiful idea. That the very act of creation prefigures the entire law and narrative that will follow.

He breaks it down like this: "God said, 'Let there be light'" – that’s Genesis itself, the beginning, where God brings the world into being. Then, "And there was light" – that’s Exodus, where the Israelites are brought out of the darkness of slavery into the light of freedom. "God saw the light, that it was good," found in (Genesis 1:4) – that's Leviticus, a book overflowing with halakhot (laws), so much so that the double expression of "light" and "good" represents its abundance.

"God distinguished between the light and the darkness" ((Genesis 1:4)) – Rabbi Simon connects this to the book of Numbers, which draws a distinction between those who left Egypt and those who actually made it to the Promised Land. A stark contrast, a real separation. Finally, "God called the light, Day" ((Genesis 1:5)) – this corresponds to Deuteronomy, which, like Leviticus, is also packed with halakhot.

But here’s where things get interesting. The students challenge Rabbi Simon. "Wait a minute," they say, "Leviticus is full of halakhot, and you're saying the double expression "light" and "good" symbolizes that. But Deuteronomy is just as full of laws. Why doesn’t it get the same double emphasis?"

It’s a good question. You can almost hear the lively debate, the back-and-forth of Talmudic reasoning. Rabbi Simon’s response? "In its regard, too, it said a second word.” He means that even though it’s not explicitly stated as "light" and "good" together, the verse corresponding to Deuteronomy also contains two positive expressions, implying the same abundance of halakhot.

So, what does this all mean? Is it just clever wordplay? Maybe. But it’s also a powerful reminder of the interconnectedness of Torah. It suggests that the entire narrative, from the very first spark of creation, is imbued with meaning that resonates throughout the whole. It invites us to look deeper, to find echoes and connections, to see the Torah not as a collection of disparate stories and laws, but as a unified, living text.

And isn't that what we're all searching for, really? To find meaning, to find connection, to see the light that shines through even the darkest corners of our lives?

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Bereshit Rabbah 6:9Bereshit Rabbah

The familiar reading treats the Creation story in Genesis and think we understand it. But what if there's a deeper layer, a secret code waiting to be unlocked?

Seems straightforward. But hold on. Rabbi Ilfa asks a crucial question in Bereshit Rabbah, a classical collection of Rabbinic homilies on the Book of Genesis. If this verse is about the sun and moon ruling, hasn’t that already been stated earlier, "The greater light to rule the day"? (Genesis 1:16). So, what’s really going on here?

Rabbi Ilfa suggests that this verse isn't just about the celestial bodies. It's also about the righteous. The righteous have a unique power: they can exert control over their physical selves – the "body that was created to illuminate during the day and the body that was created to illuminate at night." They have the power to transcend the limitations of the physical world.

This idea is then connected to the story of Joshua, who famously made the sun and moon stand still (Joshua 10:13). The verse states, "The sun stood still, and the moon stopped, until the nation took vengeance against their enemies. Is it not written in the book of the upright?” What is the book of the upright? It is the book of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Why is it called the book of the upright? It is as it is written: “Let me die the death of the upright” (Numbers 23:10). The power to command the sun and moon – to bend reality itself – is linked to the spiritual stature of these patriarchs. Rabbi Halafta, continuing Rabbi Ilfa's idea, applies it back to our verse: "And to rule during the day and at night." It’s about the power of the righteous to influence the world.

But the Rabbis don't stop there. Rabbi Hanin, in the name of Rabbi Shmuel, takes this concept further, applying it to the end of the book of Genesis and then to the end of the Torah, connecting Joshua to both Ephraim and Joseph. He sees Joshua not just as a military leader, but as a descendant of Joseph, fulfilling a prophecy. How could Ephraim be greater than Manasseh when Manasseh was larger? (Genesis 48:19, (Numbers 26:34-3)7). How could Joseph be a "firstborn bull" who gores the nations when no king arose from Joseph to conquer the world? (Deuteronomy 33:17). The answer, they suggest, is in Joshua, who descended from them and whose actions resonated throughout the world.

Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai adds another layer, saying that the book of Deuteronomy was like a standard for Joshua. When God appeared to him, Joshua was studying Deuteronomy. God encouraged him, saying "“Be strong” Joshua, “be courageous” Joshua, “this book of the Torah shall not depart…”’ (Joshua 1:6–8). He then showed him the orb of the sun. Joshua, empowered by the Torah, commanded the sun to stand still.

And here’s where it gets really interesting. Rabbi Yitzḥak provides another perspective: Joshua, as a descendant of Joseph, reminded the sun of Joseph's dream where the sun and moon bowed down to him (Genesis 37:9). "Wayward slave," he essentially said, "don't you belong to my ancestor? You already bowed down to him in a dream!" Thereupon, “the sun stood still, and the moon [stopped].”

So, what does this all mean?

It's more than just a literal interpretation of the Creation story. It’s about the potential within each of us to connect to something larger than ourselves. It’s about the power of righteousness, Torah study, and fulfilling our potential to influence the world around us, maybe not by stopping the sun, but by making a difference in our own way. The ability to "rule during the day and at night" might just reside within each of us, waiting to be awakened.

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Shir HaShirim Rabbah 4:6Shir HaShirim Rabbah

Rabbi Yanai had a similar thought. He pointed out that the Torah truly needed to begin only with the verse "This month shall be for you" (Exodus 12:2), marking the start of the Jewish calendar and the Exodus from Egypt. So, why all the creation stuff?

Well, Rabbi Yanai suggests it's because of the Israelites' incredible commitment. They proclaimed, "Everything that the Lord had said, we will perform and we will heed" (Exodus 24:7). Because of that profound statement of faith and obedience, God revealed the secrets of creation to them.

Rabbi Berekhya dives even deeper. He connects the verse "He told you His covenant [berito]" (Deuteronomy 4:13) to the Hebrew word for creation, [beriyato]. He suggests that when God told them His covenant, He was also telling them the story of Genesis – the very beginning of creation. That's It's like the covenant is built on the foundation of creation itself.

That same verse in Deuteronomy continues: "That He commanded you to perform, the ten precepts" (Deuteronomy 4:13). Rabbi Berekhya sees these "ten precepts" as referring to both the Ten Commandments and the vast expanse of the Talmud. Ten for the written law, and ten for the oral tradition and its interpretations! The Ten Commandments, therefore, must be understood both literally and through the lens of Talmudic analysis, unlocking ever deeper layers of meaning.

But then the text takes a fascinating turn. If God hadn't laid the groundwork in the Torah, would we ever have been able to access other profound mysteries? From where, the text asks, would Elihu ben Berekhel the Buzite (that's one of Job's friends) come to reveal the secrets [ḥadrei] of Behemoth and Leviathan? (Job 40:15, 25). And where would Ezekiel get the insight to reveal the secrets [ḥadrei] of the Divine Chariot (Ezekiel 1)?

These figures delved into aspects of creation far beyond the initial Genesis account. Some interpret this to mean that these profound secrets were only hinted at in the Torah. Had God not first detailed the creation of the world and hinted at further secrets, these later prophets and sages couldn't have expounded upon them and revealed them in greater detail. The Torah, then, isn't just a history book or a law book. It's a key, a foundational text unlocking deeper and deeper mysteries about the universe and our place in it.

And that’s where we end with the verse: “The king has brought me to his chambers [ḥadarav].” This hints at the intimate connection between God, the Torah, and those who seek deeper knowledge. The Torah is like the king's chamber, filled with secrets waiting to be discovered by those who are willing to enter and explore.

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Legends of the Jews 6:94Legends of the Jews

That’s kind of how the Jewish tradition sees things. And nowhere is this more apparent than in the transition of leadership from Moses to Joshua. It's a powerful moment, heavy with responsibility and destiny.

Joshua, overwhelmed by the task ahead, prostrating himself before Moses. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, Moses gently raises him, saying, "Do not underestimate thyself, O Joshua, but be light of heart, and pay heed to my words." It's a moment of reassurance, but also a profound lesson in understanding God's plan.

Moses explains that God created all the nations of the universe, including Israel. And He didn’t just create them, He foresaw them. From the very beginning of creation to the end of the world, God saw everything, overlooked nothing. Everything was foreordained. Now, this might sound a bit deterministic. Like, do we even have a choice? But the point Moses is making is about the sheer scope of God's vision.

Moses continues, "He appointed me for them and for their sins, that for them I might make prayer and exhortation. Not for my fitness or my strength was I chosen, but only through the grace of His mercy and His long-suffering." Moses is emphasizing that his leadership wasn't about his own merit, but about God's grace. It's a crucial point about humility and divine purpose.

He then assures Joshua – and by extension, the people – that their victory over the heathens won't be because of their own strength, but because of God's will. "For I assure thee, Joshua, not on account of the excellence of this people wilt thou destroy the heathens; all the fastnesses of heaven and the foundations of the universe were created and approved by God, and are beneath the ring of His right hand." This reminds us that everything, even the most seemingly solid foundations, are ultimately in God's hands.

But here's the kicker: Moses warns that those who uphold God's commandments will prosper, while those who sin will face punishment at the hands of the heathens. But, and this is a big but, complete destruction is impossible. Why? Because God foresaw everything, and His covenant is firmly founded, "in accordance with the oath which He swore to the Patriarchs." There's a deep sense of continuity and unbreakable promise here.

And then, a glimmer of hope for the future: "Then the hands of the angel will be filled and he will be appointed chief, and he will forthwith avenge them of their enemies." This suggests that even in times of hardship, divine intervention is possible. An angel, acting as God's agent, will rise to defend them.

What does it all mean? Maybe that we're all part of a larger tapestry, woven by a divine hand. We have free will, yes, but we also operate within a framework of divine foresight and covenant. And even when we stumble, the promise remains – a promise of eventual redemption and justice. So, take heart, and remember that even in the face of daunting challenges, we are never truly alone in this story.

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