Jewish tradition is rich with answers to these questions, and Shemot Rabbah, a classical Midrashic text, offers a fascinating glimpse into the Divine blueprint of creation.
"This month shall be for you" – that’s how the Torah introduces the month of Nissan, the month of Passover, the month of freedom. But what does it really mean? The text connects this to a verse in Psalms, "He made the moon for festivals; the sun knows its setting" (Psalms 104:19). According to this interpretation in Shemot Rabbah, the verse hints at a deeper understanding of God's actions as they are recorded in the Torah. You see, the text suggests that some of Moses's descriptions are, shall we say, a bit cryptic, leaving room for later interpretation. And who steps up to the plate? None other than King David, the sweet singer of Israel, who clarifies these mysteries!
Take the very beginning, the act of Creation itself. Genesis tells us, "In the beginning God created [the heavens and the earth]" (Genesis 1:1), and then, "God said: Let there be light" (Genesis 1:3). But David, in Psalm 104, offers a different sequence: "He covers Himself with light like a garment" (Psalms 104:2), and then, "He stretches the heavens like a curtain" (Psalms 104:2). According to this understanding, light came first, then the heavens. It's like God wrapped Himself in light and then unfurled the universe!
But wait, there's more! The Midrash continues, "Three creations preceded the world: Water, air [ruaḥ], and fire." Ruaḥ, that amazing Hebrew word that can mean air, wind, or even spirit! Each of these elements then gave birth to something else: water to darkness, fire to light, and ruaḥ to wisdom. With these six creations – spirit, wisdom, fire, light, darkness, and water – the world is sustained. It’s a beautiful, interconnected web of existence.
And this leads to a profound sense of awe. "May my soul bless the Lord. Lord my God, You are very great" (Psalms 104:1), David proclaims. The text then poses a thought-provoking analogy: "A person sees a beautiful pillar and says: Blessed is the quarry from which this was quarried." The world is beautiful, so blessed is the Omnipresent who brought it forth! Think about it: We marvel at human creations, but how much more should we marvel at the ultimate Creator?
The Midrash contrasts human creation with Divine creation. A human artist etches an image on a tablet, but the tablet is always larger than the image. God, however, is different. God’s image, so to speak, is greater than the world itself! As it says in Isaiah, "For the Lord is God, an everlasting Rock [tzur olamim]" (Isaiah 26:4). Tzur olamim – the Rock of the Ages. Relative to Him, the two worlds – olamim, this world and the World to Come – are as nothing. That's why David exclaims, "Lord my God, You are very great."
The text goes on to describe how God fashioned the world, building upon the atmosphere, installing His chariots of clouds, and placing His dais on the storm. And who reveals all this to us? Again, it's David, who explains the deeds of God to inform all humanity of His might.
The Midrash then draws another contrast between human and Divine construction. A person builds a house and then adds an upper story. But God? He built the roof, then the upper story, and then positioned it all on the atmosphere of the world, on nothing! It’s mind-boggling! And these upper stories aren't made of stone, but of layers of water.
Consider chariots, too. We build strong chariots of iron or bronze to bear burdens. But God makes clouds His chariots, light and ephemeral as they are. And while we walk on solid ground, God walks on the invisible wind.
The text even delves into the creation of angels and Gehenna, often translated as hell. On the second day of creation, the day that lacked the phrase "that it was good," God created Gehenna. Why? So that if people sin, they will have a place to descend. It's a sobering thought, but it underscores the importance of our choices.
The narrative then shifts to the third day, the creation of dry land. God gathered the waters, exposing the earth and covering the depths. But the waters protested! Where would they go? So, God kicked Ocean, personified here as a monstrous being, and crushed Rahav (Job 26:12). Some say Ocean cries to this day. But God is destined to heal even the Dead Sea, as it is written in Ezekiel: "To the sea it will flow, and the water will be healed" (Ezekiel 47:8).
The waters, scattered and confused, were eventually directed to their proper place, the place of leviathan, the mythical sea monster. God set a boundary, a line in the sand, that the sea may not cross. It's a powerful image of divine order and control.
Finally, the Midrash returns to the moon and the festivals. "He made the moon for festivals," David declares. The sun and moon travel through windows in the firmament, but the moon doesn't enter all of them. The sun is considered greater, because the solar year is longer than the lunar year. But the moon, with its waxing and waning, serves as a reminder of Israel's own cycles of growth and decline, always ultimately returning.
So, what does all this mean for us? It's a reminder that the world around us is not just a random collection of objects, but a carefully crafted masterpiece, infused with Divine wisdom and purpose. It invites us to look beyond the surface, to see the hand of God in every aspect of creation, and to appreciate the profound interconnectedness of all things. As we celebrate the festivals, let us remember the moon, the sun, and the light that shines within us all.