Two Stories--One Creation
Sermon, October 28, 2005
Rabbi Bruce Kadden
This Shabbat we once again return to the beginning of the Torah, to the first
chapters of Genesis. Reading the book of Genesis from the beginning, one is
immediately struck by an oddity. There are not one, but two stories of
creation. Chapter one and the first few verses of chapter two contain the
poetic, stylized version, beginning with the creation of heaven and earth on the
first day and culminating with the creation of the first human being on the
sixth day.
Chapter two presents a much different account of creation. In this story, a
human being is created first, not last. God then creates the Garden of Eden and
places this human being there and says, “It is not good for this human being to
be alone.” So, God creates the animals and birds, but no mate is found among
them for this human being. So God causes a deep sleep to fall upon him, takes
one of his ribs and creates a woman.
These accounts of creation differ not only substantively, but also
stylistically. As Rabbi Gunther Plaut observes in The Torah: A Modern
Commentary, in chapter two, “Language and tone now change markedly: spare
rhythms marked ch.1; a familiar, personal, and frankly human manner when
speaking of God marks what follows.”
Two stories, side by side, two accounts of the creation. Why is it that the
Torah begins with two stories of creation? Wouldn’t one have been enough?
Of course, from a traditional perspective they are not two stories at all,
but one story. The first part of this story, according to the commentary in the
Stone edition of The Chumash, “described Creation in a very brief and
sketchy way because” its primary purpose was to teach us that “God is the
Creator” of everything. The second part of this story “reverts to elaborating
on the narrative by focusing on the events that led to the emergence” of human
beings.
In other words, the Torah begins with a general overview of creation to set
the stage, and then brings the important details of the creation of the first
human being. Traditional commentators go to great length to demonstrate how the
second part of the story elaborates and expands on the first part, without
contradicting it.
For example, according to chapter one, on the third day of creation “the
earth brought forth vegetation, seed-bearing plants after their kind” (v. 12).
But in chapter two it says “No shrub of the field was yet on the earth, no plant
of the field had yet sprung up” (v. 5). Ramban, Rabbi Moses ben Nachman says
that “on the third day the earth did bring forth the grass and the fruit trees,”
but chapter two teaches “that there was no one to plant and sow them for future
purposes” until the creation of human beings.
Similarly, when we come to the creation of human beings in chapter two, the
Stone Chumash explains, “This passage does not describe a new creation;
it merely elaborates upon the making of the creatures” in chapter one. Thus,
the apparent contradictions in the accounts of creation are reconciled with one
another.
But in the 19th century, when biblical scholars brought the tools
of modern scholarship to the biblical text, they drew a different conclusion.
They determined that the Torah was comprised of four different and distinct
literary traditions, and that the stories of creation come from two of these
traditions.
Chapter one is part of the “P” or Priestly tradition. This is the tradition
that also contains the material about the sacrifices and the responsibilities of
the priesthood, as well as the numerous genealogies that are so important in the
Torah. According to Richard Elliott Friedman, the author of Who Wrote the
Bible?, the author of the “P” tradition, who was a member of the Aaronide
priesthood, “produced his work deliberately as an alternative” to the other
biblical traditions.
Chapter two, according to biblical scholars is part of the “J” or Yawist
tradition, so-called because it uses “yod-hey-vav-hey,” the four letter
sacred name for God throughout its narrative. [“J” was the German equivalent of
the letter yod, and these were German scholars who first proposed this
designation.]
The book of Genesis, according to these scholars is comprised of these two
traditions, as well as the “E” tradition which uses “Elohim” as the name
for God. Besides the distinct names for God, there are a variety of other
literary clues which led scholars to conclude that the Torah was formed from
these separate traditions.
Now, for the most part, these traditions are woven together, so that only the
careful reader will notice there are different traditions. This is especially
true of the “J” and “E” traditions, which were blended together before “P” was
added. For example, the story of Noah’s ark first says God told Noah to take
“two of every living creature” onto the ark. In the next chapter, however, God
tells Noah to “take seven pairs of every clean creature” and two of every
unclean creature onto the ark. This tradition betrays an awareness of the
dietary and sacrificial laws which differentiated between animals that were “tahor,”
ritually fit, and those that were “tamei,” ritually unfit. The earlier
tradition knows of no such distinction.
Unlike the story of Noah, and most of the other stories in Genesis, the
stories of creation were not combined, but were allowed to stand one after the
other. Combining them would have disrupted the rhythm and poetry of the first
account of creation. And eliminating one in favor of the other would have
omitted important aspects of the story of creation.
The only solution, therefore, was to include both of the stories, one
following the other. As Rabbi Plaut explains, the first story serves “as the
poetic prologue, setting the stage for the universal drama that is about to
commence. Once the scene is set, once order has been brought out of chaos, once
heaven and earth, plants and animals have been created, the epic story of
humankind can begin.”
We are fortunate that our tradition has preserved both of these accounts of
creation, offering the insights and lessons of each tradition, giving us a more
thorough understanding of how our ancient ancestors viewed creation. As Judaism
progressed, we find other understandings of creation, other attempts to come to
terms with the mystery of why God created the world and why the world is the way
it is. Each of these later understandings, however, is rooted in the biblical
accounts of creation.
As we return again to the beginning of our Torah and the stories of Genesis,
let us be grateful for a tradition that has preserved different accounts of
creation. May we be inspired to study and engage these stories to better
understand who we are and why we are here.
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