Why Genesis Is a Story We Should Still Be Reading
This week we begin to read the book of Genesis, which starts with stories about the origins of humanity and, eventually, the Jewish people. I use the word story rather than history deliberately, not to call into question the authenticity of the Torah, but to emphasize the different purposes that story and history have for the ways we look at the past, present, and future.
History asks what happened, what caused it, and what followed. It requires us to step outside events to understand them. Stories may also recount events, but they beg us to step inside and find meaning in them. Good stories shape who we are, what we value, and what we might do next.
Reading Genesis as a story rather than as history changes us from passive readers into engaged participants. This change helps explain Rashi’s opening question: Why does the Torah begin with creation rather than with the first mitzvah given to the Jewish people? If Genesis were simply a chronology, the answer would be obvious. It starts at the beginning. As a story, however, Rashi’s question is appropriate: Why does our story begin here, and what is that meant to teach us?
Once we begin to ask questions, reading becomes a conversation. Different perspectives and interpretations help us discover meaning both for ourselves and for our community. Moreover, when we begin to see our experiences – and the experiences of those with whom we live in community – as stories within a larger tradition, we are no longer simply preserving the past. We are continually looking to the past as a guide for how to live now.
Genesis begins before there is a difference between Jew and non-Jew, Israelite and Egyptian, neighbor and stranger. The first thing that Genesis asks us to recognize is that before humanity divides into nations, religions, tribes, or communities, we belong to one human family.
The story of Adam’s and Eve’s creation is told in three different ways. In the first, we learn how humanity is the culmination of creation, made in the divine image and placed in the natural world. In the second story, we learn how individuals are created with inherent tensions, where desires and aspirations pull them in different directions. These stories can show how to see the bigger picture, even while struggling with everyday responsibilities. They can portray our limitations without having us be defined by them.
The third account, however, offers perhaps the most important lesson. The story starts with “This is the story of humankind, when God created humankind in the likeness of God. They were created male and female, and when they were created, [God] blessed them and called them humankind.” This story is not about humanity’s place in the world or our inner struggles. It is about how we relate to one another.
There is no ultimate “us” and “them”; there are only different branches of the same tree. Ben Azzai says this lesson is even greater than Rabbi Akiva’s teaching that “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” is the Torah’s greatest principle. For Ben Azzai, my impetus to love another person does not begin with me. It doesn’t matter if I identify with them, recognize myself in them, or even consider them “my neighbor.” Their humanity, and all the dignity and blessedness that it entails, is already present before I even set my eyes on them.
The beginning of the book of Genesis may be about origin stories, but its lessons shouldn’t be relegated to the past. As our stories, they help us identify our own struggles – both within ourselves and between each other. By seeing what we have in common with the characters in the text, we can reflect on our own character. Yet, we need not be determined by our past, even when our stories inform our present and future. As part of the shared story of the generations of humankind, what we share is greater than how we differ.
Perhaps, to answer Rashi’s question, that is why Genesis begins with creation.
