It wasn't always that way, you know. Imagine a bare, deserted landscape, just desolate mountains stretching as far as the eye could see. Not exactly the Promised Land we know and cherish.
But then, something incredible happened.
According to tradition, God wears a magnificent ring, a celestial adornment studded with every precious gem imaginable – amethysts, emeralds, sapphires…each one a source of light, scattering holy sparks across the firmament like a million twinkling stars.
And one day, God decided to transform that desolate land.
He turned the ring on His finger.
The Zohar tells us that sparks flew forth, arcing over the Galilee and the Jordan Valley, reaching the desert and even as far as the Dead Sea. In an instant, the mountains shimmered, cloaked in a bluish gleam, and luminous circles embraced the Jordan Valley. "God saw that it was good," the story goes, and turned His ring once more. This time, fiery sparks enveloped the mountains, resembling a glimmering tallit, a prayer shawl.
It makes you wonder, doesn't it? This act of creation, this divine intervention…it's not just about aesthetics. It's about imbuing the land with holiness, with a divine presence. Perhaps, as some suggest, this echoes the Kabbalistic idea of the "shattering of the vessels," the Shevirat HaKelim, and the scattering of holy sparks. (Remember that myth? We touched on it before, about how creation is a process of gathering those sparks.)
But the story doesn't end there.
God raised His hand, and a fragment of precious stone soared over the Negev. It landed with such force that it melted, becoming the Sea of Eilat – sparkling and shining day and night, forever remembering its origin in God's ring. As we find in Tree of Souls (Howard Schwartz), this is an origin story, explaining how a desolate land transformed through divine intervention.
And then, God gazed northward. He turned His ring again, and the most beautiful of God's sapphires descended to earth, transforming into the Sea of Galilee, the Kinneret. Ginzberg, in his Legends of the Jews, might even say these jewels flew like comets!
So, the next time you see a picture of the Sea of Galilee shimmering under the sun, or imagine the vibrant coral reefs of Eilat, remember this story. Remember the desolate mountains, the turning of the ring, and the sparks that transformed a land into something truly holy. It's a powerful reminder that even the most barren places can be filled with beauty and divine light.
What do you think? Does this story change how you see the Land of Israel? Does it give you a new appreciation for the beauty of the natural world, knowing that, according to tradition, even these landscapes hold a spark of the divine?