Every week, we celebrate Shabbat “zecher l’maasei v’reishit,” in remembrance of the works of creation. The text of the Torah is fixed, but how we remember is a choice we make over and over again. Inspired by a podcast interview with Rafael Neis, I found myself asking:
What if we remembered the works of Creation differently?
What if God created through bringing into relationship, through mixture, rather than separation?
What if all life were created in God’s image and likeness?
What if every plant and being got created as an individual, rather than en masse as a category “according to their kind”?
What if God evaluated the goodness of the works of creation not through sight alone, which classifies based on appearance, but also through taste, and touch, and smell?
And what if we let animals ask a version of Lilith’s question, challenging the oppressive regime in which they find themselves, and refusing to consent to inequality?
What followed was what I can only describe as a “spiritual bender,” where over one week I momentarily found the chutzpah to try a hand at re-writing the creation of our world.
In the beginning of God’s creating
everything was defined with certainty,
darkness divided from light, labeled on shelves in the pantry.
God said: Let there be twilight.
And the blending-spirit of God whisked them up in one bowl!
God stirred and then kneaded, massaging new mixtures of day and night.
Sampling a bit, She tasted that these combinations were good.
At twilight, ingredients intertwined – and, together, they rose! The first day.
God said: Let the waters below dance with the waters above,
and let the clouds rain down and the sea foam rise up!
God called on the ocean to arch skyward in longing
and God called upon the heavens to attend to her, and to weep.
And it was so.
The waters waltzed in circles, never ceasing, always touching: the second day.
God said: Let the waters lap the shore, and kiss the land,
and away at the foot of the mountain, let smooth stones and banked earth guide the rivers flowing home.
And it was so.
And where the water rolled down upon the soil She called it: Earth,
and where Earth held the water firmly from below, She called it: Sea.
And God heard each dew drop release into soil’s embrace, and it sounded good.
God said:
Let us grow green leaves that drink water from the dark earth and make food from the bright sky,
after our image and likeness,
let this goldenrod feed a certain caterpillar
and his leaves someday come to rest in the mouth of a particular earthworm,
and let this vine exchange pollen with her neighbor through a certain bee who loves them both,
And it was so.
And a pine raised her branches in praise, every needle a pointed prayer.
Through one oak, water rose from the earth up and out through his leaves’ pores to the sky.
Inside a single peach, a tree sent her seed back to earth, and later tucked it in under a blanket of leaves.
As each plant breathed out, another beloved breathed in,
like jump ropes going double-dutch, back and forth, turn on turn.
And God inhaled the sweet breath of so many beings, in and out and in – and it smelled good.
At dawn, a flower opened to sky, dripping nectar;
and a carrot sipped water through earth, making sugar: the third day.
God said: Let there be a chorus in the dome of the heavens,
to sing out and then pause, to call and to respond,
that they may set together a tempo of seasons, for days and years,
and it was so.
God made the many orbs,
the moon singing to the tides all day,
a melody she learned from the sun last night.
The stars brought light from yesterday to meet tomorrow’s sunrise, and here they touched.
God placed them in the dome of the heavens to complicate both day and night,
to intertwine past and present, to sing in four-part harmony forever, and in four:four time.
God heard this music – it sounded good!
A sacred symphony: the fourth day.
The Spirit hovering over the waters dove down, fins fluttering
She lifted Her wings up, too, till they spanned the sky
Let us make a little silver fish in the water,
and the cormorant who will someday take her flying across the dome of the heavens,
in our image and likeness, swimmers and flyers, eaters and eaten, God created them!
And God felt water blowing though gills and God felt feathers sailing through air – and it felt good.
And God blessed them, saying:
Fill! Swim down and fly up in all directions, fill each other, fruit and spawn, meet and multiply.
There was twilight, and there was dawn: the fifth day.
God said: Let us make living beings in our image, according to our likeness:
a groundhog, a turtle, a person, a bison, and so many singular creatures, each with their own name.
And God heard hoofbeats, and mating calls, and speech, and roaring; and it all sounded good.
“What kind am I?” asked a person-being. “Male or female, creature or angel, above or below?”
The questions cut into the forest, and interrupted the water dance, and drew a line across the mixtures.
What kind?
To answer makes for loneliness, and it is not good for the person to be alone.
A person cinched a rope around one stallion’s neck and bound him with a bridle, and nailed molten metal into his hoofs, and sat upon his back, whipping his side.
They promptly began to argue with each other.
The horse said, “I will not gallop below you, and that’s not where I am going”
and she said, “I will ride on top. For you are fit only to take me where I want to go.”
The horse reared back on his haunches in pain and responded:
“We are sacred to each other, for we are woven together.”
He spoke God’s name, but the person didn’t listen.
A person seized a cow and molested her and fed her milk to his child.
They promptly began to argue with each other.
The cow said, “I will not suckle your child, my milk is for my child,’
and he said, “I will take your child away and cage him. I will call your child not by his name but by his flesh, because I will kill him to eat.’
The cow wept and responded, ‘We are sacred to each other, for we are woven together.”
She spoke God’s name, but the person didn’t listen.
So now God said: There are snacks!
Here, I give you all plants with seeds, and all trees with fruit; for you shall they be for eating, and also for other eaters, many flyers, and also crawlers — all these green plants for eating.
Fill! Fill yourself with salad, and with walnuts and with cranberries;
for all the living beings meet – they meet each other – on even ground.
And it was so.
Now God saw all that She had made, and: it was so good!
The forests overthrew the axes; the waters resumed their dance; the light and dark mixed and spun:
the sixth day.
Thus were swirled the heavens and the earth.
God had done enough mixing around.
She put her spoon down, on the seventh day – and rinsed the whisk.
God gave Shabbat Her blessing, and hallowed it,
for on it She ceased from stirring.
These are the intertwinings of the light and the darkness
The waltzing of the waters
The kiss of sea upon land and the caress of earth under ocean
These are the roots that bring water from dark earth; these are the leaves that eat the sun and drink rain
These are the alternating breaths of everything
These are the lights that fuse past and present
These are the swimming up and the flying down, in turn
These are the beings each making their own way
finding our way
growing God’s leaves, flapping God’s wings, wagging God’s tail, breathing God’s breath.
And it was twilight, erev Shabbat: the seventh day.
