The Midrash of Philo, a collection of interpretations and elaborations on the Torah, offers a profound perspective. It highlights the expression, "And he took unto him," suggesting that a soul filled with love for God attributes all good things – noble theories, elevated feelings – not to itself, but entirely to God, the ultimate source of all blessings. It's a beautiful reminder of humility and gratitude.
And then there's the intriguing question posed by the Midrash: "What is the meaning of, 'He divided them in the middle and laid the pieces opposite to one another?'" (Genesis 15:10). What could this possibly signify?
Philo delves deep into this, exploring the very structure of our bodies as a reflection of this principle. He uses the body as a metaphor for understanding the world and our relationship to it. Think about it: our bodies are composed of parts that seem opposed, yet work together in harmony. The Midrash argues that the body is like flesh, "the parts are brothers; not as they are divided and placed opposite to one another; but, being naturally inclined to one another, and having a mutual regard to one another, on account of their natural co-operation."
Consider our eyes. The Midrash points out how the Creator placed the nose between them, turning each eye toward the other. "For the pupils, if I may so say, lean both in one direction so as mutually to behold the same thing, scarcely ever straying beyond the position in which they are placed, but only looking towards one another, especially when anything comes across their sight." They are separate, yet united in their purpose. Our ears, too, are reciprocally turned to one another, both tending to the same operation – hearing. Even our nostrils, facing inward, await smells with a "common action." Our hands, like brothers, work together to give, receive, and create.
The feet, according to Philo, are no different, each behaving in such a way that they both yield to the other, and progress is effected by the motion of both together, so that nothing can be accomplished by one alone. The legs, kneepans, hips, breasts – every part on the right and left, being similarly divided – showcases a general harmony and correspondence; a union of connatural parts.
The Midrash emphasizes that "whoever considers together and in an equal manner all the above mentioned parts thus subdivided, in reference to their joint operation, will find one nature combined of the two parts." It's not just about separate pieces; it's about how they come together to form a unified whole.
But it doesn't stop with the body. Philo extends this concept to the soul itself. Just as the body is divided, so too is the soul, with its rational and irrational parts. The rational part is further divided into intention and uttered word, while the part related to outward senses is divided into the five senses: touch, sight, hearing, smell, and taste. Philo makes an interesting distinction here: sight and hearing are considered philosophical senses, helping us acquire the power of living well, while smell and taste are more servile, merely supporting our mortal bodies.
And just like the body and soul, the world itself is arranged in divisions, according to the Midrash, placed opposite one another. The earth is divided into mountains and plains, water into fresh and salt, the atmosphere into summer and winter, spring and autumn. The Midrash goes on to suggest that Heraclitus, the Greek philosopher, borrowed his theory of contraries from the Torah, adding his own arguments.
What does all this tell us? It suggests a profound interconnectedness. The divisions we perceive – in our bodies, our souls, and the world around us – are not signs of separation, but rather opportunities for harmony and cooperation. Just as the parts of our body work together, so too can we strive for unity within ourselves and with others. It's a powerful reminder that even in division, there is the potential for wholeness.