Some interpret this verse as God’s permission for humanity to eat meat. After the flood, the world was starting anew, and perhaps a new dietary allowance was being granted. But is it really that simple?
The Midrash of Philo, a collection of interpretations and reflections attributed to the Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria (c. 20 BCE – 50 CE), offers a fascinating alternative reading. Philo asks, even if God did intend to permit the eating of flesh, wouldn't He have first and foremost established the necessity of using herbs – vegetables – as a foundational element? Wouldn't that be the primary, the essential provision?
He suggests that the "green herb" encompasses all kinds of plant-based foods. Think of it as a broad category, a general provision, that includes everything green and growing. And Philo emphasizes that this applies not just to a single, chosen nation known for its wisdom and religious continence (self-restraint). No, this initial provision extends to all of humankind, recognizing that a universal prohibition on eating meat might simply be impossible to enforce.
But then, Philo takes us even deeper. He wonders if the verse isn’t actually about eating at all! Is it possible that the power expressed here isn’t about consumption, but about possession? After all, not every herb is edible. Some are poisonous. Yet, God included them in "all things."
So, what if the verse is actually telling us that all living creatures are subject to the power of humankind, much like we sow and cultivate herbs? It’s about dominion, about responsibility, about the stewardship we have over the natural world. Humanity's role is as caretaker, not just consumer.
It's a powerful thought, isn't it? It challenges us to consider the full scope of our relationship with the natural world, reminding us that even the most seemingly simple words can hold layers of profound meaning. And isn't that what makes exploring these ancient texts so rewarding?