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Dancing between Beasts and Angels
By Gershon Winkler
The ancient rabbis taught that the human is a creature of limbo,
a being with no definition of its own, half angel, half animal.
“In three ways are humans like the ministering angels: They have
understanding like ministering angels, they walk erect like
ministering angels, they can speak like ministering angels. And
in three ways they are like animals: They eat and drink like
animals, they procreate like animals, and they defecate like
animals” (Talmud, Chaggigah 16a).
This may sound disconcerting to those of us who really care, and
may explain why so many humans flock to self-discovery seminars.
Who the hell are we? Better yet: what are we? While all the
animals have been assigned names to identify their uniqueness, as
have plants and trees, stars and planets, the human is simply
referred to as “adam”, Hebrew for Earth, or earth being
(Genesis 2:7 and 5:2). Basically, while all other beings of the
physical and spiritual universes are assigned brand names, the
human remains generic.
There is an ancient midrash that goes something like this:
When Creator was about to create the primeval human, He consulted
the ministering angels and said to them: “Shall I make humans?”
And they said: What is the human that you even bother thinking
about such a creature?” (Psalms 8:5). The Creator replied: “Well, for
one thing, its wisdom is superior to yours.”
The angels said: "In
what way?" Creator then gathered all the animals, wildlife, fish,
and birds, and stood them all before the angels and challenged
them: “Okay, assign them names.” The angels were dumbfounded and
didn’t know what to call them. Creator then made the First Human
and brought all the creatures of the earth together and asked the
human to assign them names. The human replied: “Master of all the
universes! It is fitting that this one be called buffalo, and to
this one it is fitting to call lion, and to this one horse, and
to that one camel, and to the other one eagle,” and so with all
the other creatures. When the human was done, the Creator asked: And
what shall be your name?” Human thought for a moment and said:
“Adam (earth being), because I was created from the earth”
(Midrash Kohelet Rabbah 7:32).
Earth Being. A very generic name, a very general term. It describes
nothing in particular. It means nothing specifically. One can
equally apply such a name to any creature of the earth, since all
the animals in our creation story were created out of the earth
(Genesis 1:24 and 2:19). Perhaps it is in this light that we can
better understand why the first humans were so easily sold on the
benefits of the proverbial Forbidden Fruit and also understand
more clearly the strange nature of the very first conversation in
the Torah between God and humans, which took place immediately
afterward.
What was the selling point of the Forbidden Fruit? That it grew
from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad; the Tree of Opposites.
The salesman in the story, Mr. Snake (“nachash” in Hebrew) convinced them to eat from this
tree by claiming that it would ”open their eyes and they would
gain the consciousness of the angels and become knowledgeable in
the subject of Good and Evil” (Genesis 3:5). That selling point,
especially the one about enlightening them “opening their eyes“
was a vital marketing ploy that worked like a charm on this creature
that was bereft of identity, of feeling unique, of possessing
definition. They were hungry for any information that would
illuminate their awareness, specifically their self-awareness.
What follows in their desperate search for self-discovery is the
encounter with Creator who had warned them not to eat of that
tree. Self-knowledge is a dangerous obsession if you haven’t first
eaten of the Tree of Life, which had been planted first, before
the Tree of Knowledge of Good and not so Good (Genesis 2:8). To
eat of the Tree of Knowledge before tasting the Tree of Life is
like building an upper floor of a structure before building the
first level.
In the discussions of the ancient sages Hillel and
Shammai whether God first made the heavens and then the earth, or
vice-versa, Shammai argued that the heavens were made first, as
it is only logical that one would first construct a throne for
the king and only thereafter a footstool (referring to Isaiah 66:1 --
“The heavens are my throne; the earth my footstool”). Hillel
argued that the earth was constructed first, as one would logically
first construct the first level of a house before constructing
the upper level. The sages reconciled both arguments by quoting
from the Prophet Isaiah (Isaiah 48:13) who described God as
creating both simultaneously (Midrash Yalko’t Shim’onee on
Genesis 4). So which came first: the chicken or the egg? Now you
know the answer to that one -- finally.
And so the first humans, in their urgency to self-actualize skipped
the basic fundamental phases of consciousness, the Tree of Life,
and went straight for the gusto. And gusto they got, albeit sorely
unprepared for its consequences psychically and spiritually. Being
half angel and half animal they desired to first attain the knowledge
of the angels, not realizing that the path to spirit is via earth.
And God, not being the condemning type, asked: “Where are you?”
as opposed to “What have you done?” in order to give them the
benefit of doubt, that maybe, perchance, they were mature enough
to do good without having dessert before the meal.
"Where are you?"
was perhaps then a question that implied "Where are you? In the
heavenly consciousness of angels or in earthly consciousness of
animals, plants and rocks? Have you at least achieved one or the
other?" Unfortunately, the response implied that neither consciousness
was attained: “I heard your voice in the Garden and I was afraid
because I felt naked, and so I hid” (Genesis 1:10). In other words,
I would have felt enrobed, empowered, embraced, had I first eaten
of the Tree of Life, but instead I feel bereft, as naked as I did
before, as empty of what I hoped I’d get from the Tree of Knowledge
as I did before I ate of it. My eyes have indeed been opened -- to
that, to this sad frustration, to the pain of it, and to the
regrets that come with it, to what I ought to have done first."
And so the act of hiding was a huge part of the problem -- not of
eating the forbidden fruit. Hiding was in essence the sublimation
of what could have been enlightened self-discovery. And thus it
is to this day that we continue to look for ourselves, still in
hiding, dancing in limbo between animals and angels, and still
trying to figure ourselves out.
The Voice of God is not so scary, not anything to hide from; it
is a voice that would not have been experienced as intimidating
to First Humans had they partaken first of the Tree of Life, to
familiarize themselves with simply being alive. In taking time
out to be, and to marvel at the magic of everything around us, we
discover more and more of who we are. Everything around us, the
birds, the trees, the sky, the earth, other folks, carries a
piece of the clue, for we are all of it. Creator, after all, made
us in the image of all that had been created before us, in the
image of all of the earth’s creatures, as well as the heavenly
ones (Genesis 1:26; Midrash Ha’ne’elam, Vol. 1, folio 16b; Mishnah Avot
D’Rebbe Natan, end of Ch. 31). As the Zohar teaches: “The souls of humans
and animals are imprinted one in the other” (Vol. 1, folio 20b). The 13th-
century Rabbi Shlomo ben Aderet went a step further and taught that “the
souls of animals are sparks of the human soul” (Manuscript Parma de Rossi
1221, folio 288b).
What we seek to learn about ourselves is thus to be found every
day anew, every moment, and in everything that dwells in, on, and
above our earth. We are indeed Earth Beings. And endeavoring to
live our lives to its fullest restores to us the fragrance and
flavor of that tree we neglected to eat from first, the tree we
now write myriad books about and create symbols of: the Tree of
Life. Every day, the Zohar teaches, we are created anew, fresh,
as on the first day of the first human (Vol. 1, folios 19a-b).
And every day, then, we are given the opportunity to start over,
to step back from our premature urgency to eat of the Tree of
Knowledge, and instead first avail ourselves of the simplicity of
being, of the fruit of the Tree of -- simply -- Life. L’Chayyim!!
~~~~~~~
from the Februrary 2009 Edition of the Jewish Magazine
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