It sees echoes of the very first moments of creation rippling through time, playing out in the lives of individuals and entire generations.
Rabbi Yehuda bar Simon, in Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic homilies on the Book of Genesis, offers a powerful interpretation of the opening verses. He doesn’t just see a description of the physical creation; he sees a blueprint for the spiritual and moral struggles of humanity.
"The earth was emptiness and disorder" – tohu vavohu in Hebrew. Rabbi Yehuda says this represents Adam, the first human. Think about it: Adam, in his initial innocence, succumbs to temptation and brings oblivion, a kind of nothingness, into the world.
“And disorder” – this, shockingly, is Cain. Cain, in his jealousy, commits the first murder, seeking to return the world to that original state of chaos, that tohu vavohu.
“And darkness” – this is the generation of Enosh. Remember them? The Torah tells us that they "profaned God’s name" (Genesis 4:26). Bereshit Rabbah (23:7) elaborates, connecting them to the verse in Isaiah (29:15): "Their actions are in the dark and they say: Who sees us and who knows of us?" They thought they were hidden, but their actions cast a shadow.
“Upon the face of the depths” – this, of course, is the generation of the Flood. The text explicitly links it to Genesis 7:11: “On that day all the wellsprings of the great depths were breached.” The world was literally submerged in chaos and destruction.
“And the spirit [ruaḥ] of God was hovering over the surface of the water” – here, the tradition sees a connection to the Flood again, but this time with a glimmer of hope. It references Genesis 8:1: “God passed a wind [ruaḥ] over the earth.” The ruaḥ, the spirit or wind, is both a symbol of the Flood's destructive power and of God's potential for renewal.
According to this midrash, the Holy One, blessed be He, essentially says: ‘Until when will the world conduct itself in darkness?’ The text clarifies that this darkness refers to the darkness of idol worship. ‘Let some light come.’ And that’s where Abraham enters the picture.
“God said: Let there be light” (Genesis 1:3) – “this is Abraham.” Isn't that a profound idea? Abraham as the light emerging from the darkness? The midrash connects this to Isaiah 41:2: “Who roused [he’ir] righteousness from the east?” But there’s a clever wordplay here. The text tells us: Do not read it as he’ir (הֵעִיר) spelled with an ayin, meaning "roused." Instead, read it as he’ir (הֵאִיר) spelled with an aleph, meaning "illuminated." Abraham, the one who brings light!
The interpretation continues with Jacob and Esau, drawing parallels to the phrases "God called the light, Day, and the darkness, He called Night. It was evening and it was morning, one day" (Genesis 1:5).
“God called the light, Day” – “this is Jacob.” “And the darkness, He called Night” – “this is Esau.” The text continues: “It was evening” – “this is Esau”; “and it was morning” – “this is Jacob.” It breaks it down further: “It was evening” – “the evening of Esau”; “and it was morning” – “the morning of Jacob.” It’s a cyclical view of history, where power shifts between these opposing forces.
Finally, the midrash offers a glimpse of hope: “One day” – as it is stated: “There will be one day, it will be known to the Lord, that is not day and not night…” (Zechariah 14:7). This "one day" alludes to the ultimate redemption, when Jacob’s ascendance over Esau will be asserted. Or, alternatively, it's interpreted as Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, a day when, even in this world, there is light for Jacob and darkness for the forces of evil.
So, what does all this mean? It suggests that the struggles we face today are not new. They are echoes of ancient conflicts, reflections of the very first moments of creation. But it also offers hope. Just as light emerged from darkness in the beginning, so too can it emerge in our own lives, in our own time. We just need to choose to be the light.