challah as a representation of creation

CREATION

Creation: It’s a volatile word that means different things to different people.

Torah tells us the universe was created in six days, in an illogical order that sounds like a story from a children’s book. Science tells us the universe was created over billions of years—in a very different order. So, which is true?

Science or Torah? Reason or Faith?

Is faith the opposite of reason? If faith means mindless acceptance of something that makes no sense—of dogma without thought—then faith is dangerous, and reason is the only way to go. But what if that understanding of faith is misconstrued? Can reason also be a dangerous path? And is it possible that these terms are not opposites at all?

The word “faith” is a common but poor translation of the Hebrew word “enumah.” Enumah comes from the root word, emet. Emet means truth. So, real faith is based on truth, not on belief. And reason? Reason is based on logic. Logic works with facts as we know them. And facts change. The world was once flat. So, reason is susceptible to leading us down a very logical path to the wrong answer.

The opening chapters of the Torah are poetry, with deep esoteric messages hidden within the words. The simplest reading is a children’s story. But if we look deeper, we can write volumes on the breathtaking truths we find there.

To say Torah conflicts with scientific discovery is to have missed the point. With each exciting discovery that humans uncover about the nature and origins of our universe—and of existence itself—a few more of the mysteries of Torah step out of the metaphysical shadows and become clear.

BEFORE THE BEGINNING

The Torah opens with the Hebrew word, Beresheet. We read, “In the beginning of God’s creating the heavens and the earth … ”

The Torah begins with bet, the second letter of the alef-bet

If you look at a Torah scroll, you’ll note that the first letter is much larger than the ones that follow it.

It’s the Big Bet.

With a strong, stable wall at its back, it seems to say, “This is the beginning. There’s nothing before me,” yet it’s also an open doorway pointing forward, enticing the reader to begin the journey, to step out onto a path lined with stories, teachings, and wisdom.

so, Where’s the Aleph?

Let’s think it through. The beginning of creating … hmmmmm … The word “beginning” assumes a period of time, and time is, of itself, a creation.

So, what was before the beginning of God’s creating? What about the first letter, Aleph? Where’s the Aleph?

Before the beginning there was nothing—no time, no space, no-thing. Only God.

Before the beginning, all was One; all was infinite. Only God.

And what is God? God is no-thing. Not a be-ing. Not a spirit. Those are things that exist in creation. And yet, God is also every-thing, the Great Singularity that IS before the beginning of creating.

 ein sof

Let’s give the Great Singularity a name. Let’s call it “Ein Sof.” The Infinite, The Transcendent,

The Unknowable God.

But what’s the point of being god?

It seems that when God is all there is, God is God of nothing.

God was lonely. Perhaps God was even bored. Eternal nothingness sounds pretty bleak.

Jewish mysticism teaches that Ein Sof, the Infinite Unlimited, contracted in a process called the Tzimtzum, leaving a void. Now, where before there was only Ein Sof, there was Ein Sof and a void; there was God and not-God. That void represented the potential for more. God moved over to make room.

Look! We’ve found it! Here Comes the Aleph!

אין סוף

Ein Sof begins with Aleph.

SOMETHING FROM NOTHING

For our physical reality to come into existence from a singularity of nothingness, that singularity has to have the potential to diversify. There needs to be room for this and for that. There needs to be a Self and an Other. Hence, the tzimtzum.

Bet is the beginning of action.

Alef is that silent, infinite, suspended and breathless moment that comes just before the first sound.

Then, God spoke: “Let there be light!”  

Or – the Hebrew word for light, the prime act of creating, also begins with Aleph.

God Spoke! And with this first sound, this vibration, the creative energy of God—God Light—shot out into the void. Then came more sounds, more vibrations, more energy. Fast forward a bit, and the energy starts to slow down. And energy slowed down becomes matter.

Scientists have a simple name for this process of Tzimtzum and the Big Bet …

… They call it the “Big Bang!”

See? Science eventually catches up with Torah!

Adam, Eve, and Challah

The final act in the story of the creation of things, is the arrival of human beings on the scene. Humans are at the pinnacle of creation; they’re the stars of the show. Why? Because the Torah is for humans. If there’s a Torah for giraffes, I suppose that giraffes are the central focus of that Torah. I don’t know. The giraffes aren’t talking.

By now, you’re probably wondering how I can relate a loaf of bread, even a very good loaf of bread, to creation. Hang on, I’m getting there….

Before anything can be created or built, there first has to be an idea, and then there has to be a plan.

Before humans walked the earth, there was a blueprint, a primordial human as a concept in the “Mind of God”—a genderless being. This being, called Adam, was crafted from the red earth, from the natural elements that make up the world, and was then animated, given life by infusing it with the “Breath of God.”

Unlike the other sentient creatures, Adam was gifted with a second, higher soul. With the gift of reason, Adam was created only slightly less in grandeur than the angels, and like the angels, Adam could perceive and relate to HaShem. But the angels lacked physicality. For this Adam concept to materialize—and for corporeal humans to live and reproduce on this earth—primordial Adam was divided into two separate beings, male and female.

The traditional interpretation of this imagery says woman was created by being separated from man. Patriarchal society is built upon this notion: That woman is a secondary creation, an afterthought, subservient to man, created to satisfy his needs.

But … since the original being had no gender, this interpretation can’t be correct! 

It sounds like there’s some sociopolitical agenda attached to that interpretation …

Ein Sof to Adonai

How does Ein Sof become Adonai? Ein Sof is unknowable to the finite mind, the human mind.

For Ein Sof to have a relationship with this human creation, Ein Sof needed to step down, become smaller, personal rather than impersonal. And so an aspect of Ein Sof descended to a lower plane, one not so low as to walk among creation but low enough so that those humans who desired to do so could elevate their consciousnesses and meet God on that middle plane. God tells us the name of this aspect of God is Adonai: Written as Yud-Hey-Vav-Hay, vowel-less, unpronounceable by the human tongue. (Except for during the time of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, when the High Priest entered the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur.) It would be like saying, “Is, Was, Will Be” all at the same time.

That sound is lost to us now. Anyone who attempts to put sounds to those letters has it wrong. And the name Adonai is not to be taken lightly. We use it only in prayer when we address God personally. When we read those letters—when we speak about them—we say “HaShem,” which means “The Name.”

Animals behave according to design, according to instinct. That’s not to say that animals don’t think, understand, or share human emotions. If you’ve ever lived with animals, you know that this is absolutely untrue. What animals dolack is a moral code. They live purely on instinct. A cat will not behave like a rabbit, and a rabbit will not behave like a snake. Each has its nature and will live accordingly.

Adam and Eve were the only creatures granted the unique opportunity to make a choice. They could remain like every other being in creation and play the part that was written for them. They could remain a cog in the well-oiled, harmonious machine that is the universe—how simple and perfect the world would be if they’d made that choice!

Or they could choose to choose—to go rogue and be uniquely free, constantly striving for knowledge, understanding, and wisdom. It would require cutting the cord, hurling themselves away from God, and then spending all their lives desperately clawing their way back to the Source of Love through the chaos that severance would create.

They chose to do the hard work—to pay the price of freedom.

The angels were appalled.

God was thrilled!

It was what God had in mind when God created a being in God’s image. After all, how could God have a real relationship with a being that behaved on the instinct it was imbued with by God? And it could only be real if they chose it for themselves. You can read more about this in my post about Parasha Beresheet—and check out the menu while you’re there.

So, what has all of this got to do with challah?

In the beginning of creating challah, we stir together elements of the earth—grain, water, sugar, salt, oil, and eggs. With the addition of yeast, we imbue it with life. We knead it, and we leave it to develop in its own time. Then, we cut it squarely in two. One cannot say that either of these loaves was taken from the other. They were one dough, and now they are two equal balls of dough with a common source. Sound familiar?

Golden Shabbat Challah

Two Loaves

Our tradition tells us that we set out two loaves for Shabbat to remember that, in the desert, we received two portions of manna on Fridays—giving us ample food for Shabbat, a day on which we were commanded to refrain from working. For more on this topic, check out my Serving Challah, Welcoming Shabbat page.

But maybe there’s another reason for the two loaves. I suggest that the two loaves symbolize humanity’s creation and the primordial human’s division into male and female corporeal beings.

The six strands of the challah braid represent the six days of creation. Twisted together into a singularity, they represent the seventh day, Shabbat. And, when we lift them, bless them, and bring them each to meet the other, we are reminded, just for a moment, that our universe of things, of this and of that, is in truth both reality and illusion.

And we are meant to be partners in creating, working from the inside, meant to live in a diverse world of this and that, of self and other. We’re meant to find the balance in giving and taking, teaching and learning. We’re meant to find the light trapped in darkness, raise it up, and set it free. We’re meant to sanctify everything in our path and restore harmony where we find discord. But for just a few minutes of each day and one day in seven, we’re meant to stop—to stop doing and just BE—to remember the source, remember the beginning, remember the aleph before the beginning—remember that it’s all connected, that it’s all one.

And so we say …

Shema Yisrael! Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad!

Hear, Israel! Remember and know in every cell of your physical being—in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul, that Adonai is our God, and that Adonai is One.

And this world, this life, is our gift.

It’s our stage where we get to take our character, write our script, and play our part in whatever way we choose.