It's not just about what’s on the ground, but what fills the air above us. Bereshit Rabbah, that magnificent collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, puts it this way: "And let birds fly" (Genesis 1:20). It points out that earthly kings build palaces with upper and lower levels for occupants. But do they settle occupants in the airspace? No! Only the Holy One, blessed be He, settles occupants even there.
This is such a potent image. Think about it: God's creativity isn’t limited by our human concepts of property or dominion. The sky itself is populated, teeming with life. It's a reminder of the boundless nature of creation, and how much more there is beyond what we immediately perceive.
Then we move on to Genesis 1:21: "God created the great serpents and every living creature that crawls, with which the water swarmed by their species, and every winged bird in its kind, and God saw that it was good." What does it mean that God created the great serpents, the hataninim?
Rabbi Pinḥas, quoting Rabbi Aḥa, offers a fascinating idea: the word taninim is written without the usual yod, the letter that often signifies the plural. This, they suggest, hints at Behemoth and Leviathan, those mythical beasts of immense power, who, in this interpretation, have no mates. Though Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish challenges that, saying Behemoth does have a mate, but no desire, citing the verse "The sinews of its testicles are knotted" (Job 40:17). A rather... graphic image, to be sure!
And from there, the discussion takes an unexpected turn, moving from mythical monsters to... peacocks. Rav Huna, citing Rav Matna, shares a remarkable tidbit: the peacock, in all its iridescent glory, originates from a single, white drop – sperm – yet displays 365 colors, one for each day of the solar year. It's a beautiful, if somewhat startling, illustration of the potential contained within the smallest of beginnings.
But here's where it gets even more interesting. Rabbi Yirmeya Kahana poses a question to Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish about crossbreeding sea animals. Is it permitted, according to halakha (Jewish law)? Remember, Leviticus 19:19 forbids crossbreeding animals. Ben Lakish replies that it isn't, citing "by their species" from the verse.
But Kahana pushes back, pointing out that "by their species" is written regarding fish too, but how can you crossbreed fish? This sparks a fascinating debate about the application of kilayim, the prohibition against mixing different kinds, to the aquatic world.
Rabbi Yona offers a solution: what if you tie two different species of fish, a mairon and an asparon, together with reed-grass and force them to move together? That, he argues, would be a violation of the prohibition of diverse kinds, since we know the diverse kinds involving driving animals may not be used to plow, haul, or pull together. So, “And every living creature that crawls, with which the water swarmed by their species” indicates the prohibitions involving diverse species apply to sea life as well. And then, the text concludes by circling back to its starting point, connecting "every winged bird" to the peacock.
What are we left with after all this? It seems to me that this passage, seemingly about the creation of birds and sea creatures, is actually a meditation on the boundaries of creation, the limits of our understanding, and the constant, playful intellectual wrestling that is so central to Jewish tradition. It's a reminder that even in the earliest moments of creation, there's room for questions, debate, and wonder.