Jewish tradition has some fascinating, and surprisingly relatable, ideas.
One captivating story, found in Midrash Aleph Bet (5:8-9), suggests that God's day is divided into two distinct phases. From morning till evening, God sits upon the Throne of Glory, lost in thought. Imagine that – the Creator of the universe, pondering! Considering new thoughts, new plans. How to create the deep, how to create the heights, the pillars of the clouds, the very foundation of the world! It’s a powerful image, isn’t it? Echoes of creation itself, brought to mind by verses like Psalms 33:6: "By the word of Yahweh the heavens were made, and all their host by the breath of His mouth."
Then, as evening falls, everything shifts. God descends from the Throne of Glory and rides on sparks of fire, arranging the orders of new worlds with his own… well, fingers! Positioning the upper worlds opposite the lower ones, and vice versa. Action! Creation! Night as a time of doing. Interestingly, this is the opposite of how we humans tend to operate, using the day for action and the night for contemplation.
But that’s not the only account we have. The Talmud, in B. Avodah Zarah 3b, offers another perspective, dividing God's first twelve hours into neat three-hour blocks. For the first three hours, God is engaged in the study of Torah – the ultimate student! Then, for the next three, God sits in judgment of the world. A weighty responsibility, to be sure. After that? Sustenance! God feeds the whole world – from mighty buffalo to the smallest vermin. Think of the scale!
And finally, for the last three hours of this divine workday? Well, opinions differ. Some say God plays with Leviathan, that mythical sea monster of immense power. Can you picture it? Others insist that God sits and teaches schoolchildren. I love the intimacy of that image.
But wait, there's more! Genesis Rabbah 8:13 adds to the mix, suggesting that God is also busy blessing bridegrooms, adorning brides, visiting the sick, burying the dead, and reciting the blessing for mourners. All those acts of kindness and compassion woven into the fabric of God's day.
So, what about the night? According to this second account, God's nights are a bit more… relaxed. He rides a cherub of light and floats through 18,000 worlds, listening to heavenly songs. A passive role, almost like… God's dreamtime.
What’s so striking is how both these accounts, though different, draw parallels between God's day and our own. As the mystical tradition of Kabbalah teaches, "as above, so below." God, too, seems to have a schedule, a need to divide time between study, work, and perhaps even a little bit of relaxation. We see that even God has a schedule that He must follow.
Ultimately, these stories are incredibly reassuring. They suggest that even the Divine must find a balance, just as we do, between the active and the passive, between responsibility and rest. Perhaps, in these mythical glimpses into God's day, we find a reflection of our own struggles and triumphs, reminding us that even in the vastness of the cosmos, we are all connected.