Birth Pangs (2)
Then God said, “Let there be an expanse in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.” Genesis 1:6 NASB
Expanse – Birth is painful. If you’re the mother, I don’t have to tell you that, but I’m not talking about birthing. I’m talking about being born. It’s a blessing that we don’t remember the pain of that process. I can’t imagine it was pleasant. But we do remember the pain of being born into the stages of our lives. We know what psychological and spiritual pain is like. Perhaps that’s why we can identify with Zornberg’s analysis of expulsion. It is truly painful to realize you are alone.
When we looked at the midrash on this text in Genesis, we discovered that there is a way to read the account as a defect in creation, a necessary tear that allows space for life. We also discovered that God feels this too. All of this comes into play when we try to understand pain as part of this world. Tucker points out that there are basically two ways of dealing with the agony of living. It’s worth reading his points in detail.
“One attitude toward afflictions views them as a manifestation of divine justice. . . . This provides a neat and rational scheme for understanding the role of suffering in the world: it is a natural and inevitable result of rebellion, retribution for insubordination to divine authority . . . Ours is to accept in faith and resignation, as Job ultimately does, that which we cannot fully apprehend.
The second attitude . . . does not dispute the idea of that suffering may be connected with sin, but it considers its primary purpose to be elsewhere. Its objective is not so much purification from sin as it is the goal of drawing human beings closer to God. Much more than a means of atonement, afflictions can actually create a bond with God. That is why, in this point of view, afflictions are spoken of as having advantages, and the Torah itself is said to be acquired only through affliction. Consistent with this attitude, God is depicted as being vulnerable, empathetic, and seeking solidarity. Thus, the acceptance of suffering in this view is not the resigned and muted acceptance of Job, but rather the more positive and uplifting acceptance born of that solidarity and of the exhilaration of sharing in God’s experience, as it were.”[1]
The recent state of the world’s health is an example of these two attitudes. Some people view the events as the hand of God’s judgment, citing Scriptures to show we deserved this because of humanity’s disobedience. Others view this as a tragic but natural occurrence. The event draws us closer to God. It is not His punishment. It’s part of the tear in the world.
Tucker continues:
“But most important, solidarity and participation are, in the Akivan view, the keys to salvation. Sufferings are ‘afflictions of love,’ that is, afflictions that generate love—love for God Who participates in the world’s travails, and for the world itself. This empathetic God is, to rework the old phrase in a way that Heschel loved, the ‘most moved mover.’”[2]
Now let’s consider the wider implications for exegesis:
“Here what is being read is not texts in the usual sense, but rather experience itself. True to form, the Ishmaelian paradigm insists on a naturalistic, commonsense reading of experience; pain must be seen for what it is and must be explained logically, as a just retribution from the Master above. The Akivan paradigm requires that experience, like scriptural texts, be read with an esoteric exegesis. Our experiences of pain and affliction are to be seen as codes for a deeper reality, in which the immanent God and we are partners and coparticipants. Martyrdom itself can follow from this intense solidarity with the immanent God, and it is undoubtedly an Akivan point of view that is reflected in the Fourth Gospel’s celebrated statement that ‘There is no greater love that this, that a man should lay down his life for his friends’ (John 15:13). For one who speaks of afflictions that generate love for God and the world, the ‘friend’ is God.
One final note for now: the Ishmaelian reading of experience is, like all logical readings, subject to refutation and falsification. Thus, although this attitude preaches the resigned acceptance of Job and the pious expressions of faith in the unknowable divine justice, it is forever challenged by the apparent injustice of human travail. There is thus a restlessness, perhaps even a resentment, for those who see suffering as the judgment of the transcendent God. . . . Akiva’s esoteric reading of experience is, like all such exegesis, not subject to such refutation or challenge. It posits a different level of awareness and an ultimate unity that reveals problems of theodicy to be pseudoproblems. It also posits an eventual revelation of justice and equity in a future world. In other words, the Akivan paradigm deals with the apparent anomalies of experience through a fundamental shift of the axioms.”[3]
What did we learn? We noticed that there are significantly different ways of reading this text, differences that redirect our thinking about the rest of the Tanakh and the apostolic authors. But that isn’t the whole lesson. We also, hopefully, realize that there are two fundamentally different ways of approaching all Scripture. One posits the priority of the transcendent God and views His justice as the lynchpin for humanity. This God is removed from our struggles—and our sins. He is above it all. Then there is Akiva’s way. It is certainly more personal—a God who experiences our agonies and struggles with us for redemption. This is the God of mercy we so often hear about, identifying with us and bringing salvation in His wings. But did you notice this in the citation above: “. . . the Ishmaelian reading of experience is, like all logical readings, subject to refutation and falsification,” while “Akiva’s esoteric reading of experience is, like all such exegesis, not subject to such refutation or challenge.” Why? Something terrible—and wonderful—is afoot.
Topical Index: Akiva, Ishmael, birth, exegesis, transcendent, immanent, Genesis 1:6
[1] Gordon Tucker, in Abraham Heschel, Heavenly Torah as Refracted through the Generations (ed. and trans. by Gordon Tucker, Continuum International Publishing Group, New York, 2007), pp. 127-128.
[2] Ibid., p. 128.
[3] Ibid., p. 129.