In Genesis 1, G-d creates things – chemical elements, stars, planets, lifeforms, biological species. In Genesis 2-3, he creates people. In the first chapter, He creates systems, in the second chapter He creates relationships. It is fundamental to the Torah’s view of reality that these things belong to different worlds, distinct narratives, separate stories, alternative ways of seeing reality.
There are differences in tone as well. In the first, creation involves no effort on the part of G-d. He simply speaks. He says “Let there be,” and there was. In the second, He is actively engaged. When it comes to the creation of the first human, He does not merely say, “Let us make man in our image according to our likeness.” He performs the creation Himself, like sculptor fashioning an image out of clay: “Then the Lord G-d formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.”
In Genesis 1, G-d effortlessly summons the universe into being. In Genesis 2, He becomes a gardener: “Now the Lord G-d planted a garden ...” We wonder why on earth G-d, who has just created the entire universe, should become a gardener. The Torah gives us the answer, and it is very moving: “The Lord G-d took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it.” G-d wanted to give man the dignity of work, of being a creator, not just a creation. And in case the man should such labour as undignified, G-d became a gardener Himself to show that this work too is divine, and in performing it, man becomes G-d’s partner in the work of creation.
Then comes the extraordinarily poignant verse, “The Lord G-d said, ‘It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.” G-d feels for the existential isolation of the first man. There was no such moment in the previous chapter. There, G-d simply creates. Here, G-d empathizes. He enters into the human mind. He feels what we feel. There is no such moment in any other ancient religious literature. What is radical about biblical monotheism is not just that there is only one G-d, not just that He is the source of all that exists, but that G-d is closer to us than we are to ourselves. G-d knew the loneliness of the first man before the first man knew it of himself.
That is what the second creation account is telling us. Creation of things is relatively easy; creation of relationships is hard. Look at the tender concern G-d shows for the first human beings in Genesis 2-3. He wants man to have the dignity of work. He wants man to know that work itself is divine. He gives man the capacity to name the animals. He cares when he senses the onset of loneliness. He creates the first woman. He waits, in exasperation, as the first human couple commit the first sin. Finally, when the man gives his wife a proper name, recognizing for the first time that she is different from him and that she can do something he will never do, he clothes them both so that they will not go naked into the world. That is the G-d, not of creation (Elokim) but of love (HaShem).
That is what makes the dual account of the naming of the first woman so significant a parallel to the dual account of G-d’s creation of the universe. We have to create relationship before we encounter the G-d of relationship. We have to make space for the otherness of the human other to be able to make space for the otherness of the divine other. We have to give love before we can receive love.
In Genesis 1, G-d creates the universe. Nothing vaster can be imagined, and we keep discovering that the universe is bigger than we thought. In 2016, a study based on three-dimensional modelling of images from the Hubble space telescope concluded that there were between 10 and 20 times as many galaxies as astronomers had previously thought. There are more than a 100 stars for every grain of sand on earth.
And yet, almost in the same breath as it speaks of the panoply of creation, the Torah tells us that G-d took time to breathe the breath of life into the first human, give him dignified work, enter his loneliness, make him a wife, and robe them both with garments of light when the time came for them to leave Eden and make their way in the world.
The Torah is telling us something very powerful. Never think of people as things. Never think of people as types: they are individuals. Never be content with creating systems: care also about relationships.
I believe that relationships are where our humanity is born and grows, flowers and flourishes. It is by loving people that we learn to love G-d and feel the fullness of His love for us.
