Bereishit: G-d Intended Life to Be A Challenge
Why does the Torah start with struggle instead of serenity? You’d think it might begin with a peaceful paradise – lush gardens, people living in harmony, a divine lullaby of calm. But no. Right from the get-go, we’re thrown into chaos: Adam and Eve’s misstep, Cain’s jealousy, the first taste of desire, rivalry, and violence. It’s not a soft opening – it’s a bold statement.
Life is messy. And that’s the point. Bereishit introduces us to a world where beauty and brokenness live side by side, and where free will is the defining feature of being human. G-d didn’t make life easy – He made it meaningful.
I’m 50 now, living with Progressive Supranuclear Palsy (PSP), a terminal illness that’s changed everything. And yet, I find comfort in Bereishit’s honesty. My life is a mix of joy and pain – simultaneously planning my daughter’s wedding while grieving a friend’s son. It’s all there in the parsha. My faith, sparked when I was 11, has never wavered. Bereishit doesn’t feel like an ancient story – it feels like my story. It shows me a G-d who doesn’t promise to fix everything, but who walks with us through it all.
That faith started in a London Sunday school. I remember learning about Shema Koleinu – a prayer where we speak to G-d straight from the heart. My teacher said we could talk to G-d directly, and that idea hit me like a bolt of lightning. I couldn’t explain why it moved me so deeply, but from that moment, I knew G-d was real. Recently, my child asked if I’d bet everything on that belief. I didn’t hesitate. Yes, I would. Not because life is simple, but because Bereishit shows us a G-d who wants us to wrestle with life, not run from it.
Rashi says Bereishit is about G-d’s sovereignty and Israel’s claim to the land. That’s powerful. But I also see something else: a G-d who embraces complexity. When Eve saw that the tree was good for food (Genesis 3:6) and chose to eat, she was using her free will. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch explains that the Tree represents moral autonomy – the ability to choose between good and evil. And when G-d warned Cain, “If you do well, will you not be accepted?” (Genesis 4:7), He was saying: the choice is yours. Cain chose jealousy and violence. G-d didn’t stop him. That’s the deal – we get to choose, even when it hurts.
That hits home. Every day with PSP, I have to choose: hope or despair, joy or fear. Bereishit doesn’t sugarcoat life. It reflects the world I live in – a place where light and darkness are always in tension. And I believe that’s exactly how G-d intended it.
My faith is grounded in three beliefs, all rooted in Bereishit.
First, I don’t see a conflict between science and religion. If you believe in an all-powerful G-d, it doesn’t matter whether creation took seven days or 15 billion years. The Torah’s story and evolution’s timeline can coexist. As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks said, science explains how; religion explains why. Bereishit isn’t a science textbook – it’s a guide to meaning.
Second, I can believe fundamentally in a universal G-d. G-d didn’t build the world with a specific religion baked in. Bereishit starts with humanity, not Judaism. It tells us that goodness isn’t limited to one faith. I love Judaism for its universalism – Abraham found G-d, but that doesn’t mean everyone has to follow the same path. I proudly live my Jewish life, but I reject any belief system that excludes others. Judaism’s gift to the world is ethical monotheism – values like justice and compassion that are open to all. That’s the spirit of Bereishit.
Third, Bereishit shows us that free choice is everything. The stories of defiance and violence aren’t just ancient drama – they’re reminders that our choices matter. Every day, I decide how to face PSP. Do I find meaning in my limitations, or let them define me? Bereishit tells me that G-d trusts me to choose.
Living with PSP sharpens my view of the world. My faith in G-d is strong, but my faith in people has taken some hits. I’ve seen breathtaking kindness and heartbreaking cruelty – sometimes in the same day. After two years of war, I see Cain’s cruelty and the serpent’s lies – twisting truth, sowing division – playing out in real time. But like the G-d of Bereishit, I choose to believe in our ability to choose well. I choose hope.
Bereishit doesn’t promise perfection. It offers purpose. G-d didn’t want robots – He wanted real people who grow, love, and struggle. My illness has taught me to hold joy and pain together, to see both as part of the story. Bereishit reminds us that life’s challenges aren’t punishments – they’re invitations. Invitations to live with intention, to find meaning, and to walk with a G-d who made life hard so it could be holy.
For me, the Torah’s first words are a call to embrace life’s messiness with faith. Every moment – whether it’s a celebration or a heartbreak – is a chance to connect with the One who gave us the gift of choice.
May we all find strength in Bereishit’s truth: to choose wisely, to hold beauty and pain together, and to walk with the G-d who made life a challenge – and made it worth living.
