Gavriel Lakser
The problem of evil has confounded theologians and people of faith for millennia. First articulated by the Greek philosopher, Epicurus, in the 3rd century BCE, he asks how evil can exist in a world created by a God of untainted goodness and omnipotence. Either God is unable to prevent evil and, as such, is lacking in power, or, alternatively, God is able but unwilling to prevent evil, which makes Him malevolent.[1]
There is a second question pertaining to the problem of evil that is of specific relevance to the Jewish people. While atrocities have been committed against people of all ethnicities, races, and religions throughout the ages, the Jewish people have endured persecutions with a frequency and intensity that is unique in history. Why does evil seem to specifically target the Jews?
Let us begin by addressing the first, and more general, question of evil.
A ‘Good’ World
The theme of good and evil is central to the Book of Genesis. We read there of God’s creation of a world filled with goodness, but in which we also discover the foundations of evil and of the eventual destruction of the world due to humankind’s iniquitous ways. However, as we closely consider the purpose behind God’s creation of the world, it becomes evident that not only is the potential for the existence of evil compatible with the notion of a supremely benevolent Creator, it is a key component to both the splendor of God and His world.
God’s primary objective in His creation of the world can be gleaned from one statement that appears recurrently throughout the Creation narrative. Following God’s formation of light (1:4), His division of the waters from the dry (1:10), the sprouting of vegetation (1:12), His forming of the celestial bodies (1:18), the teaming of the seas with aquatic life (1:21), and the flourishing of animal life on the dry land (1:25), we read:
God saw that it was good. (1:25)[2]
In each of these examples, the good that God perceives follows critical stages in the Creation enterprise in which the conditions for the sustenance of life are secured. And so, as Jon D. Levenson observes, the primary message of the Creation narrative is not, in fact, of Creation ex nihilo but, rather, of God’s “establishment of a benevolent and life-sustaining order” (Jon D. Levenson, Creation and the Persistence of Evil (Princeton University Press, 1994), 47.
However, it is following God’s final act of creation – the formation of man – where we discover yet a further refinement of God’s work. Now, with man in the picture, all the good that had been achieved prior to man’s arrival is elevated in God’s eyes to an even loftier “very good” (1:31).
What is it specifically about man that contributes to the enhancement of what is already a magnificent world?
Rabbi Hayyim ibn Atar (1696-1743), author of the Or Ha-Hayyim commentary on the Torah, offers a profound response. He explains that, while the work that preceded man was not lacking in goodness, there was not yet in existence a creature to contemplate and appreciate that goodness. Only man, as an intelligent being, can reflect on and ponder the good that permeates his environment, and it is, therefore, only man who can respond to and give gratitude to his provider (Or Ha-Hayyim, Genesis 1:31).
Without man, all the beauty and splendor of God’s world remains a silent and unrecognized good. While it is certainly true that the other creatures experience and benefit from the earth’s bounty, they are not cognizant of it. As Rabbi Yitzchak Arama explains (Akeydat Yitzchak, trans. by Eliyahu Munk, vol.1, 9:1), while the animal is “governed wholly by his senses,” humans are “governed by a combination of the sense[s] and the intellect.” The fact that man can reflect on his experience means that he can contemplate the source of that which benefits and sustains him. As such, it is only man with whom God communicates,[3] affectionately informing him that He is the provider of all the good that fills the earth:
God said, ‘Behold, I have given you all the vegetation that bears seed which is across the surface of the earth, and all the fruit-bearing trees that produce seeds. It is for you for consumption.’ (Genesis 1:29) [4]
In other words, it is the newfound potential for relationship, that comes with man’s arrival, that marks the evolution of the Creation project to a higher good. Indeed, according to Ramban, the ultimate objective in God’s creation of the world was for man to recognize and give thanks to his Creator (Ramban, Exodus 13:16).
Knowledge of Good Contingent on Knowledge of Bad
In fact, man’s ability to reflect on the good he experiences is not limited to his awareness of good alone. Something can qualify as good only in relation to that which is less favorable. A beautiful painting is good only relative to other works of art considered less aesthetically appealing. If one could not distinguish the quality of one painting from another, there would be nothing good or bad about any particular painting, because there would be nothing to measure it against. Stated differently, the awareness of good demands an awareness of that which is bad.
It is this capacity to ponder both the good and the bad which defines man as a rational being. For to think rationally is to engage in a process of reasoning through which one is able to achieve knowledge of truth, the ultimate good.[5] This, in turn, creates the foundations for that uniquely human attribute called free choice. In other words, it is human reason – the ability to reflect on and evaluate that which we experience or observe – which gives birth to the freedom to choose.[6]
To be certain, the animals are similarly capable of distinguishing between good and bad, and, when presented with options, will invariably ‘choose’ the good over the bad. However, such choice is neither rational nor contemplative; it is purely impulsive and, therefore, does not qualify as free.[7]
As such, it is not merely man’s capacity to contemplate his Creator that is so significant to the enhancement of the Creation enterprise; it is the fact of his acknowledgement of God as an act of volition. It is because man chooses to recognize his Creator – meaning that he could choose not to give such recognition – that makes him such a crucial contributor to the success of this endeavor.[8] Once again, the animal kingdom offers no such value. The animals function precisely as intended and, as such, reflect the goodness of God’s world. However, they are not capable of independently contributing to the enhancement of the earth’s goodness; they do not reflect on their experience or contemplate the source of their sustenance, and they do not, indeed cannot, choose to recognize or not recognize God’s beneficence.
The Symmetry Between Man and God
Remarkably, it is precisely those qualities that mark man’s exaltedness which are some of the defining attributes of God Himself in the Creation narrative. As noted above, each stage in the Creation process culminates with God’s perception of the “good,” thus demonstrating the integral role of God’s own rational awareness in executing the Creation project. Indeed, God is the epitome of a free, choosing, and independent being. And so, when the Torah describes man as a divine-like creature, it is specifically the attributes of rational thought and autonomy that exemplify such grandeur.[9]
As we shall see, it is precisely man’s divine-like stature that gives rise to the tension between him and God through which emerges man’s rebellion against his Creator in the third chapter of Genesis. For just as God is an autonomous creator of good, so too, man seeks to be an independent creator and provider.[10] And yet, as man looks out across the beautifully landscaped Garden, all sculpted by the divine hand, his own creative energies are stifled as he ponders what there is for him to contribute to this already seemingly perfect world.
There is, however, a mechanism through which man can accommodate those divine impulses. Once again, the elevation of God’s world to that of very good is dependent on man’s choice to acknowledge God’s providence. Therefore, should man choose not to recognize God as the Creator of the earth’s bounty, he prevents God’s vision for a very good world from materializing, while simultaneously staking his own claim as master and provider.[11]
Of course, irrespective of man’s acknowledgment, God remains the earth’s true benefactor. Nevertheless, lacking man’s endorsement, God remains, as it were, a king without a crown.[12] As such, God’s providence is left solely in the hands of man. The Midrash offers up the following parable to illustrate:
[This is] like a king who built a palace and inhabited it with mutes. They would rise each day and greet the king with gestures, their fingers, and their handkerchiefs. The king said, “If only my subjects were intelligent, how much more honor would I receive!” He wondered why he hadn’t done this and then placed intelligent people inside the palace. They rose up and took over the palace and said, “This is not the king’s palace, but ours!” (Genesis Rabbah 5:1)
A Divine Dilemma
And so, God faces a dilemma in considering His uplifting of man. For the very means by which the Creation project can be elevated, at the same instant, it sows the seeds for God’s potential banishment from the world He formed.[13] God cannot have it both ways. Either create an uplifted creature and, with it, the possibility of revolt, or choose not to and avoid the threat of insurrection but forgo any prospect for an enhanced world.
In returning to our question, the God of the Torah, while not lacking in goodness, is a vulnerable deity. It is a vulnerability initiated by God Himself as a consequence of His unmitigated benevolence (i.e., the fact that He creates man as an intelligent being), and which exposes Him before His most esteemed creature. In kabbalistic tradition, this concept is known as tzimtzum, that is, in His great benevolence, the omnipresent God retracts His presence and his omnipotence in order to make room for the world, for man, and, ultimately, for man’s free will.
The precariousness of God’s decision to take the risk that comes with creating an exalted being is reflected in the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad that He places in the middle of the Garden (2:9). For we must ask why God would plant a tree in the Garden that He proceeds to forbid man to partake of; simply refrain from creating such a tree and there would be no concern of man eating from it. Rather, the tree represents the rational mind instilled in man which grants him the capacity to reflect upon the earth’s goodness (hence, the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad) and to contemplate his Creator while, at the same instant, giving him the power to reject God and replace Him as sovereign ruler on earth. The serpent narrative in Genesis 3 demonstrates the potency of this power that man yields over God.
The Nakedness of the Serpent
The serpent is introduced as the most “arum” of God’s creatures (3:1), a term typically translated as “cunning” or “wily.” But while there is little doubt as to the serpent’s evil intentions in its efforts to persuade Eve to defy God’s injunction, close inspection of the serpent’s rhetoric betrays a distinctly bold and brazen character as opposed to deceptive and cunning. To God’s warning that man will “surely die” (2:17) by eating the fruit, the serpent mockingly responds, “You will surely not die” (3:4). Then, in a shocking display of hutzpah, the serpent proceeds to charge that the true motivation behind God’s edict is that of self-preservation:
“For God knows that on the day you eat from it, your eyes will be opened, and you will become like God, knowing good and bad.” (3:5)
And yet, there is nothing ingenuous in the serpent’s statement. Indeed, its bold prediction is proven prophetic when, following Adam and Eve’s consumption of the forbidden fruit, God Himself confirms, “Behold, the man has become like one of us, knowing good and bad” (3:22).
Recognizing God’s dependence on man’s agency, the serpent has no need to employ guile in its efforts to sway Eve.[14] It must merely point out the truth: that man, too, is a rational being, capable of discerning goodness independent of God’s input. Sure enough, as Eve places her gaze upon the forbidden fruit, it is not only her animal instinct that draws her towards it (“ki ta’avah hu la-einayim”); it is also her rational mind that perceives its goodness (“ve-nehmad ha-eitz le-haskil”).[15]
In reality, man possesses knowledge of good and bad even prior to eating the fruit; the very fact that God issues an edict to man demonstrates the latter’s capacity to distinguish between good and bad. However, until man actively chooses to defy God’s will, such awareness remains in the purview of the theoretical; it is only through actively defying God’s command that man becomes an autonomous (and, therefore, divinelike) being substantively. In other words, while it is true that man exercises choice in obeying God’s command, such volition is passive in nature. Hence, God’s perception of man’s achievement of divine status only following the latter’s consumption of the fruit.
God, meanwhile, is helpless in preventing man’s achievement of divinity because – as discussed – to do so would mean to strip man of the very attribute that enables him to contemplate his Creator and, thereby, elevate the Creation enterprise.
In fact, the text’s characterization of the serpent as arum alludes to the serpent’s unbound temerity. Note that this very same term appears just one verse prior in characterizing Adam and Eve in the Garden:
And the two of them were arumim, the man and his wife, but they were not ashamed. (2:25)
Clearly, in its application to Adam and Eve, arum means “naked.” Nakedness connotes transparency and openness. And so, while Adam and Eve’s lack of shame in their exposure before God reflects, on the one hand, their intimacy with their Maker prior to sin, it may also hint at an unhealthy lack of fear in the presence of their Creator which comes as a direct consequence of their proximity to Him. The serpent is the embodiment of that confidence and self-assuredness that is generated through man’s recognition of God’s dependence on him to achieve a ‘very good’ world.[16]
Man’s Limitation as Creator
While man has the power to exile God from his world, the question of whether he can succeed in God’s place as sovereign ruler is a very different matter. For while man is certainly capable both of recognizing and generating goodness, he cannot do so with the same precision as God. This is because man’s perspective on what is good and true is always of a limited and subjective nature. Each individual or group sees goodness through their own particular lens. What one deems to be good will inevitably be less than ideal in the eyes of others. And yet, that divine component with which we are all imbued does not like to acknowledge those limitations. As such, we tend to respond impatiently with those who resist our ideas of the good and the true in favor of their own.[17] The inevitable outcome is conflict and discord.
Not so with the Creator of the universe. Lacking boundaries or limitation, God’s perspective of good is objective, pure, and unadulterated. Others may not always see the goodness in His ways, but that is due to their own deficient perspective, as opposed to any defects in God’s judgment.[18]
And so, with man’s independence comes, by necessity, imperfection. A world with man in charge is one that will ultimately produce strife and division. This is evident immediately following Adam and Eve’s assertion of their autonomy, where each shifts the blame for his/her actions; Adam accuses Eve, while Eve deflects blame onto the serpent. Each, in his or her own mind, is innocent, and others are to blame for their own shortcomings.
Similarly, man’s life outside the Garden is marked by disharmony as Cain, motivated by his own subjective sense of injustice, strikes and kills his younger brother (4:3-8). Note God’s encouragement to Cain following His rejection of Cain’s offering to “do good” (“im teitiv”), implying that Cain has failed in his subjective judgment of good. Later, the children of Elohim take wives for themselves from the daughters of man “from whoever pleased them” and were deemed to be “good” in their eyes (6:2).
And, with each passing generation, as man continues to distance himself from his Creator in pursuit of generating his own independent goodness, humanity descends into greater moral corruption and decadence, culminating in the destruction of both man and his world in the generation of Noah.[19] But, while man is doomed for chaos and ruin in a Godless world, God – despite feeling genuine sadness and disappointment[20] – will endure without man. As such, man’s expulsion of God from the world is to his own detriment.[21]
A New Beginning
Following the failure of the Creation project, God embarks on a new initiative in which he no longer looks to universal man for acknowledgement. R. Samson Raphael Hirsch explains:
Because men had eliminated God from life, and even from nature, they found the basis of life in possessions and its aim in enjoyment… Thus, it became necessary that one people be introduced into the ranks of the nations which, through its history and life, should declare that God is the only creative cause of existence, and that the fulfillment of His will is the only goal in life. (S.R. Hirsch, The Nineteen Letters, translation by Bernard Drachman, Jerusalem: Feldheim, 1969, 54)[22]
This “one people,” the nation of Israel,
…must remain alone and do its work and live its life as a separate entity until, refined and purified by Israel’s teaching and Israel’s example, humanity as a whole might turn to God and acknowledge Him as the sole Creator and Ruler. (ibid.)
With humanity, as a whole, demonstrating little interest in forming a relationship with Him, God acquiesces to man’s desire for independence, and looks, instead, to a particular people with whom to forge a relationship and through whom to advertise His providence to the nations. The founding father of this future nation is Abraham, an individual who, despite his material wealth and renown, seeks answers to the deeper questions of life:
Though he (Abraham) was a child, he began to think [incessantly] throughout the day and night, wondering: “How is it possible for the sphere to continue to revolve without having anyone controlling it? Who is causing it to revolve? Surely, it does not cause itself to revolve.” (Rambam, Mishneh Torah, Laws of Idolatry 1:1, translation by chabad.org)
Thus, for the first time in history, God encounters an individual who yearns to know his Creator and, as such, will “bring blessing to all the nations of the world” by promoting faith in God to the masses “through commanding his children and his household after him to perform righteousness and justice” (Genesis 18:18-19).[23]
With God’s election of Abraham and his future progeny, the nation of Israel, universal man is relieved of its responsibility to forge a relationship with God, and is given the distance he demands in order to access his own creative energies without God’s dominating presence looming over him. Aside from some basic ethical requirements detailed in the Noahide laws, man lives free from God, while still maintaining awareness of God’s providence through the history of God’s chosen people, Israel.
Amalek: The Serpent Evolved
As man’s relationship with God evolves postdiluvian, so too, we discover an evolution in the manifestation of those primal evil impulses. Now, with the nation of Israel standing in for God as His representative on earth, the primeval serpent refocuses its assault on God’s chosen people. For if God’s existence is advertised through the history of Israel, then God’s removal from the world is achieved through the annihilation of Israel. Of course, for most, the knowledge of an existent (albeit, distant) God is a comforting thought. If there is a God, then there is an order to the world, there are ethics and morals where the righteous are rewarded and where punishment is meted out to the wicked. However, for those for whom freedom and autonomy are not enough but who demand complete sovereignty, the very existence of God poses a threat. It is the latter that are epitomized in the nation of Amalek.
Following Israel’s miraculous departure from Egypt, Amalek unleashes a brutal assault on the recently liberated nation of slaves. Recounting the details of the attack, God issues an edict to Israel to never forget Amalek’s cruelty:
Remember what Amalek did [to] you on your way out from Egypt; when [he] happened upon you on the way; and [he] attacked the weakest amongst [you] who tarried at the rear, and you were tired and spent, and [he] did not fear God. And it will be that when the Lord your God grants you respite from all your enemies around, in the land that the Lord your God gives to you as an inheritance, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under the heaven. Do not forget! (Deuteronomy, 25:17-19)
But while the ruthlessness of Amalek’s assault certainly contributes to God’s indignation, the Midrash highlights another dimension to the offense which helps explain God’s interminable rage against Amalek:
Like a boiling cauldron into which no creature is able to enter, this wicked one (Amalek) comes and jumps into it. Although it is burnt, it cools it off for others. (Tanhuma 9)
More significant than the physical harm caused to Israel is the spiritual damage inflicted upon humanity that is such an affront to God. In fact, Israel overcomes Amalek on the military battlefield (see Exodus 17:13). Nevertheless, Amalek is able to claim victory in its greater mission to conceal God’s presence from the world, thereby cooling the spiritual temperature attained through Israel’s miraculous exodus from Egypt. Indeed, coming on the heels of the most awe-inspiring display of God’s power in all of history, in which the mighty Egyptian military machine is vanquished without Israel so much as lifting a sword, Amalek’s engagement with the Israelites in a physical battle that displays the typical features of conventional warfare recasts Israel’s victory over Egypt as a natural – albeit impressive – military achievement.
In this manner the moment of awe at the mighty hand of God passed away and the atmosphere of astonishment at His miracles evaporated. The world returned to its former rut, to its idols of gold and silver, its faith in mortal power and brute force. (Nehama Leibowitz, Studies in Devarim, World Zionist Organization, 1980, 256)
Drawing from the primeval serpent, Amalek seeks to convince man that he reigns supreme on earth. And, just like the serpent, Amalek exhibits shocking impudence and fearlessness in its assault on God, fueled by its awareness of God’s point of vulnerability.[24]
Indeed, in characterizing the iniquity of Amalek, the Zohar states that Amalek attacked “both on high and below, for at that time the evil serpent gathered all of its forces both above and below” (Zohar, Vayakhel 194b).
But while Amalek is successful in its efforts to distract the nations from God’s presence through its battle with Israel in the wilderness, so long as the Jewish people endure, there remains a place for God in this world, and a future in which “God will be King over the entire earth, on that day shall God be One, and His name One” (Zechariah 14:9). And God promises that, despite having to endure constant persecution and oppression, the nation of Israel will never be destroyed – “The eternity of Israel will not fail” (I Samuel 15:29).
Conclusion
Can a world infused with evil possibly bear the imprint of a supremely benevolent Creator? Not only is it possible, but a world fashioned by a God of pure goodness demands the potential for evil. To rid the world of the possibility of evil would necessitate the removal of man as an exalted creature. For man’s evil inclination is but a derivative of that rational awareness instilled in him by God through which God’s providence can be recognized, thereby elevating the Creation enterprise to a higher good.[25] This sheds light on the prophet Isaiah’s attribution to God as “Fashioner of light and Creator of darkness, Maker of peace and Creator of evil” (Isaiah 45:7).
But while the foundations of all evil can be traced to the very condition of man upon his formation, the evil which existed prior to the Great Deluge and that of the postdiluvian epoch are each manifested in accordance with its unique historical context. Pre-Flood, evil emerges as a consequence of man’s failed attempt to manufacture good independent from God, following man’s banishment of God from the world. With God’s new plan for humanity following the Flood, evil metastasizes into an unrestrained assault on God via His chosen representative, the nation of Israel. It is this more aggressive and deliberate brand of evil that has been brandished throughout most of history, and which so often targets the Jewish people.
Nevertheless, in pondering a world absent of evil, we must be prepared to consider a return to the basic but stagnant goodness that presided on earth prior to man’s arrival, a world without choice and without the potential for improvement. Most certainly, given the options, we would choose the world as we know it, despite the inevitable pain and anguish it brings with it.
[1] This essay explores the problem of moral evil (i.e., evil perpetrated willingly by man) as opposed to natural evil (i.e., natural disasters and sickness). While the author contends that the two are related, the topic of natural evil is beyond the scope of this essay.
[2] Translations are my own except where indicated.
[3] Although God does appear to communicate with the animals in instructing them to be fruitful and multiply (Genesis 1:22), as R. Arama points out, God’s speech to them takes on the form of blessing rather than directive (Akeydat Yitzchak, 3:10). Indeed, it is only in addressing man that we read, “And God said to them…(1:28).
[4] So too, God informs man of the goodness He provides for the other creatures, presumably because they lack the intellectual capacity to reflect on, or contemplate, the blessings they experience.
[5] Rambam (The Guide 1:2, 24) limits rational awareness to the distinguishing of truth from falsehood, while relegating man’s awareness of good and bad to “things generally accepted as known,” and not accessed via the intellect. However, Abarbanel (Peirush Abarbanel al Ha-Torah, Genesis, Hapoel Hamizrahi, Tel-Aviv, 1983, 111) argues against Rambam and includes awareness of truth and falsehood under the rubric of knowledge of good and bad, explaining that arriving at truth in exercising rational thought is always desirable (and, therefore, good), just as arriving at false conclusions is undesirable (hence, bad).
[6]This follows the Kantian and Hegelian view of rational thought as the foundation of free choice.
[7] I return to R. Arama’s point above in which he distinguishes between human and animal intelligence, in that animals are governed by the senses alone, while humans are governed by a combination of the senses and the intellect.
[8] This view of man’s freedom of choice as complementary and beneficial to the Creation endeavor contrasts with Leon Kass’ argument that man’s autonomy is problematic and that God desires for him not to exercise choice but, rather, to remain in childlike innocence and to allow his instinct to guide him towards “natural good” (Kass, The Beginning of Wisdom, University of Chicago, 2006, 66).
[9] Abarbanel argues that it is man’s divine image that enables him to recognize God as the Master of the world. It is through his tzelem elohim that the gift of rational thought is born to man (Peirush Abarbanel al Ha-Torah, ibid., 68-69). See also Malbim (Otzar Ha-Mefarshim, Malbim, vol. 1, 17).
[10] According to R. Soloveitchik , man’s likeness to God is most reflected in his creative nature (Joseph B. Soloveitchik, “The Lonely Man of Faith,” Tradition 7:2 (Summer 1965), 11).
[11] For instance, proponents of the naturalist materialist position on the origins of the universe assert man’s ownership of the earth’s resources based on the view that those raw materials are the product of nature alone, lacking any intelligent design by a willing and benevolent Creator.
[12] As stated in Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer (ch. 3), “If there be no people to praise the king, where is the honor of the king?” (translation from sefaria.org.il).
[13] Rabbi Yechiel Tucazinsky explains that it is precisely man’s capacity to contemplate the wondrousness of God’s creation that leads him to believe that he is his own provider and to even rebel against his Maker (Yechiel Tucazinsky, Gesher HaChaim, translated by Nissan Aharon Tucazinsky, Jerusalem, Moznaim, 1983, 77).
[14] Ramban (on Genesis 2:9), in referencing Pirkei De-Rabbeinu Ha-Kadosh, asserts that the serpent does not lie.
[15] Ta’avah, translated as “lust,” refers to man’s physical senses. Le-haskil is associated with rational knowledge.
[16] Bava Batra 16a identifies in the serpent man’s evil impulse. See also Nefesh Ha-Hayyim (1:6) and Mikhtav Mei-Eliyahu (E. Dessler, Strive For Truth, vol. 2, 138).
[17] For instance, most imperialist endeavors are rooted in good intentions. The ancient Egyptian, Babylonian, Greek, and Roman empires all sought to bring peace and prosperity to the world under their dominion.
[18] According to R. Shimshon Raphael Hirsch (on Genesis 1:4), God’s objective judgment of good is evident in the verse, “God saw that the light (“or”) was good (“tov”), in which the adjective (“tov”) follows the direct object (“or”). This, in contrast to Eve’s subjective human perspective on goodness in the verse regarding the fruit, where the adjective (“tov”) precedes the direct object (“ha-eitz”).
[19] The Torah states that God “saw the earth and behold it was nishhatah (corrupted)… And God said to Noah, behold I shall mash’hitam (destroy) the earth (6:12-13). Discerning the identical language in describing man’s corrupt behavior and God’s destruction of the world as punishment for man’s waywardness, Seforno states (on 6:12) that it is, in reality, man himself who destroys the earth, and that God merely carries out to completion the process which man initiates.
[20] Upon recognizing the failure of the Creation endeavor, and that the “end of all flesh” (6:13) had come before Him, we read, “And the Lord regretted that He had made man on the earth, and His heart was saddened” (6:6).
[21] One of the founding principles of the Torah, according to Rambam, is: “All things that exist in the heavens and the earth, and everything between them, only exist from the truth of His [God’s] existence.” Furthermore, “If one would imagine Him not to exist, nothing else could exist.” Finally, “If one would imagine that nothing else would exist except for Him, He would continue to exist, and their nullification would not nullify His existence, for all that exists needs Him, while He does not need them” (Rambam, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Yesodei Ha-Torah 1:1-3).
[22] I would like to thank Rafi Eis for directing me to this source.
[23] See S. R. Hirsch, The Nineteen Letters, Letter 8.
[24] In declaring God’s eternal battle against Amalek, the Torah states, “There is a hand on the throne of God” (Exodus, 17:16). The word “throne” (“keis”) is deficient of the letter aleph (the usual, normative form is “kisei”) which, according to Rashi, alludes to the incompleteness of God’s name so long as Amalek remains in existence.
[25] The contribution of man’s evil impulse to the enhancement of the world is illustrated in the midrash that states, “‘Behold, it was very good’ – this is the evil inclination’” (Genesis Rabbah 9:7).
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