Our sages, zichronam livracha, may their memory be a blessing, were extremely careful to distance themselves from any notion that the Almighty needed His creations or relied on them in any way. Nor did they want to attribute any real role in creation to angels. Everything, they insisted, depends on the Almighty alone. This is in direct contrast to some interpretations found within Kabbalistic thought, specifically within the Zohar.
The text challenges a concept found in the Zohar, where God is referred to as "Father-Creator" and a feminine aspect is described as the "skilled craftsman" fulfilling the will of the master. The author argues that attributing creation in this way could imply that the Creator was somehow incomplete or reliant on something else for the act of creation.
The challenge boils down to this: if the Kabbalists truly received their wisdom directly from Moses, our teacher, then why didn't they simply explain the existing Scriptures instead of seemingly altering their meaning? Why didn't they just clarify that "In the beginning" refers to the Father, God, initiating creation? Why introduce potentially misleading interpretations when a straightforward explanation of the existing text would suffice?
They could have explained, the text argues, that when it says "Let there be light," it was the Father, who is also God, speaking. They could have explained "the heavens and the earth" as divine attributes, but they chose not to.
This debate isn't just academic; it touches on the very core of Jewish belief. The text highlights a crucial passage from Chagigah (Chapter Ein Dorshin) where Rabbi Yishmael questions Rabbi Akiva about the teachings of Nahum Ish Gamzu. Rabbi Yishmael asks about Nahum Ish Gamzu's interpretation of the phrase "the heavens and the earth." Rabbi Akiva responds that if the Torah had simply stated "the heavens and the earth," one might have interpreted them as divine attributes. However, the definite article "the" indicates that they are precisely what they appear to be: heavens in the true sense, and earth in the true sense.
Bereshit Rabbah further clarifies this point. Rabbi Yishmael again presses Rabbi Akiva, asking about the significance of the seemingly redundant phrasing. Rabbi Akiva reiterates that if it had been written "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth," one might conclude that the heavens and the earth are, in fact, divine attributes.
The author then directs us to the commentaries of Maharsha and Etz Yosef to understand that the Zohar does, indeed, view "the heavens and the earth" in this context as smaller, feminine aspects of the divine – a concept that the Sages actively distanced themselves from. This is, according to the author, what the Zohar means when it says "the Lord our God."
So, what does this all mean for us? It underscores the profound tension that exists within Jewish thought regarding the nature of the Divine. It highlights the importance of interpreting sacred texts with careful consideration, always striving to maintain the core principle of God's absolute oneness and independence. It reminds us that even within our rich tradition, there is room for debate, for different perspectives, and for a constant striving to understand the mysteries of creation.