DRASH – BEREISHIT

Rabbi Kim Ettlinger

Temple David, Perth

When we open the Torah to Parashat Bereishit, we enter the breathtaking drama of creation. With each divine utterance, the world takes shape: light emerges from darkness, waters are separated from sky, dry land appears, vegetation takes root, the sun and moon mark the heavens, birds fill the sky, creatures fill the earth, and finally, humanity is created B’tzelem Elohim, in the divine image.

It is easy to become absorbed by the grandeur of what is being created: the vastness of the universe, the earth beneath our feet, and the extraordinary diversity of life. Yet the foundational lesson of Bereishit is not only about what God creates. It is about when creation happens. It is about time.

In his seminal work The Sabbath, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel observed that the Bible concerns itself more with time than with space. It sees the world in the dimension of time, thinking of space as a canvas upon which time is painted.

Consider the word kadosh, holy. Throughout the entire creation narrative, God creates incredible physical phenomena: vast oceans, soaring mountains, stars, and living creatures. Yet God does not declare a single place or physical object holy.

The very first thing in all of creation to be sanctified (v’yikadesh oto) is the Seventh Day:

“And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it God rested from all the work of creation which God had done.” (Genesis 2:3)

This dynamic rhythm of daily renewal forms the cornerstone of our Progressive liturgy. In the Yotzer Or blessing before the Shema found in Mishkan T’filah, we praise God as “M’chadesh b’tuvoh b’chol yom tamid ma’aseh bereishit”, the One who in goodness renews daily the work of creation. Creation is an unfolding process woven into the continuous fabric of time.

Why did the Divine take six days to create the universe? Surely an omnipotent Creator could have spoken the entirety of the cosmos into existence in a single split second.

The six-day progression teaches us something profound about intentionality, process, and rhythm. By establishing a rhythm, “And there was evening and there was morning,” the Torah grounds human existence in a structured tempo. Time is given structure so that we do not drown in chaotic eternity. In our evening liturgy, Ma’ariv Aravim, we acknowledge this divine order, praising God who “rolls away light before darkness and darkness before light… making day pass and bringing night.”

The six days also speak to our role as partners in creation. We are given the mandate to build, innovate, refine, and repair our world, to participate in Tikkun Olam. Work is inherently purposeful when it is bounded by time. We are not simply passive inhabitants of creation. We are participants in its ongoing unfolding.

And then comes the seventh day. Rashi asks a famous question on Genesis 2:2, “God completed on the seventh day His work”: What was the world missing after day six? Rashi’s answer is Menuchah, tranquility and rest. God created rest as a positive entity on the seventh day. Rest is not merely the absence of labour; it is the presence of soul.

And perhaps this is where the Torah’s teaching about sacred time becomes especially powerful for us today. Time does not simply move forward. As human beings, we mark it. We remember it. We return to moments in our collective story, carrying them with us as we move into the future. Some moments become part of the sacred calendar of our lives, not because we choose them, but because they have changed us.

This week, we once again came to October 7. For Israel and for Jewish communities around the world, these are not simply dates on a calendar. October 7 has become a moment that divides time into before and after. We remember those who were murdered in the horrific attacks in Israel, and we remember those who have lost their lives defending the State of Israel. We remember families whose lives were shattered, communities forever changed, and the many whose grief continues.

And so, as we stand at the beginning of a new Torah cycle, the juxtaposition is profound. Bereishit begins with a world that is being created, shaped and renewed. October 7 reminds us how fragile that world can be, and how urgently we are called to protect and repair it. The Torah teaches us that creation is not something that happened once, in the distant past. Creation is ongoing. Every day, we are called to participate in it.

But the Torah also teaches us that creation cannot mean endless activity. There must be a moment to stop. A moment to remember. A moment to grieve. A moment to breathe. And a moment to gather the strength to begin again.

Perhaps this is one of the deepest meanings of Menuchah. Rest is not forgetting. It is not turning away from the brokenness of the world. It is creating the spiritual space in which we can face that brokenness without allowing it to consume us. It is the space in which memory can become meaning, grief can become compassion, and reflection can lead us back towards hope.

As we restart our Torah cycle with Bereishit, we are invited to look at our relationship with time anew. Time is not simply a resource to be managed or defeated; it is a sacred gift to be inhabited.

Just as we remember and pause, may we carry the creative energy of the six days into our daily lives, building a world of justice, compassion, and innovation. And when the seventh day arrives, may we have the wisdom to stop, breathe, remember, and step into the holy sanctuary of Menuchah.

May the One who renews the work of creation each day give us the strength to create, the courage to repair, and the wisdom to rest. And may our remembering of October 7 deepen our commitment to a world in which every human being can live in safety, dignity and peace.