The Torah gives us a tiny peek in the story of Jacob wrestling with the angel. Remember that dramatic scene in Genesis 32:27? "He said: Release me, as dawn has broken. He said: I will not release you unless you bless me." That little verse is the jumping-off point for some seriously mind-blowing rabbinic speculation.
The angel’s urgency – "Release me, as dawn has broken!" – sparks a deep dive into the daily renewal of creation. Rabbi Shimon bar Abba connects it to Lamentations 3:23: "New each morning, great is Your faithfulness." He argues that God's daily renewal is proof of His faithfulness, even to the point of resurrecting the dead. Think about that – the simple act of waking up each morning is a testament to God's promise of ultimate redemption!
Rabbi Alexandri takes a slightly different tack, seeing this daily renewal as God giving us the strength to endure hardship, especially living under oppressive regimes. It’s a powerful idea: even when things are bleak, God's renewal provides the fortitude to persevere.
But the really wild stuff starts with Rabbi Ḥelbo. He, citing Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman, suggests that the heavenly choir isn't a static group. Instead, God creates a brand-new chorus of angels every single day! These fresh angels sing a new song before God and then...vanish.
Can you imagine? A celestial flash mob, singing praises and then poof! Gone.
Rabbi Berekhya challenges Rabbi Ḥelbo with the very verse we started with: "Release me, as dawn has broken.” Isn't the angel saying it's time for him to sing? Rabbi Ḥelbo’s response is sharp: "Strangler! Do you seek to strangle me?" He explains that the verse refers to Mikhael and Gavriel, the archangels, who, while not replaced, are still bound by the divine schedule.
The story takes an even stranger turn with a story about the Roman Emperor Hadrian (may his bones be crushed, as the text says) questioning Rabbi Yehoshua ben Ḥananya. Hadrian, curious about this daily angelic turnover, asks where these ephemeral angels go. Rabbi Yehoshua replies, "To the place from which they were created."
"And where is that?" Hadrian presses.
"From the River of Fire," Rabbi Yehoshua answers.
Okay, a River of Fire? Where does that come from?
Rabbi Yehoshua explains that the River of Fire originates from the perspiration of the beasts that bear God's Throne! It’s a powerful image of divine exertion and the source of angelic creation. Hadrian's advisor, ever the skeptic, questions the consistency of this "Jordan" of fire, but Rabbi Yehoshua, claiming to have been a sentry at Beit Peor, assures him it flows continuously, day and night.
Finally, the passage concludes with a debate among Rabbi Meir, Rabbi Yehuda, and Rabbi Shimon about who is greater: the guard or the guarded, the carrier or the carried, the releaser or the released? Each rabbi uses verses from Psalms and our opening verse in Genesis to argue their point. Rabbi Shimon focuses on the angel saying "Release me," suggesting that the one releasing – Jacob – is greater than the one being released.
So, what does it all mean? This passage from Bereshit Rabbah is not just a commentary on a verse. It's a window into the rabbinic imagination, grappling with the nature of God, creation, and the constant renewal of the universe. It reminds us that even in the smallest details of the Torah, there are layers upon layers of meaning waiting to be uncovered. It invites us to ponder the unseen realms, the songs of angels, and the ever-flowing River of Fire that fuels it all. What new song will be sung tomorrow?