• Table For Five

Is darkness a lack of light, or is light a lack of darkness?

Table for Five: Bereshit

In partnership with the Jewish Journal of Los Angeles

Edited by Nina Litvak & Salvador Litvak, the Accidental Talmudist

And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. – Genesis 1:3

Rabbi Aryeh Markman
Executive Director Aish LA, and CEO, Jewish American Summit

Is darkness a lack of light, or is light a lack of darkness? The answer is the first. Yet darkness is considered one of G-d’s creations. If darkness is merely an absence, how can it be created? In the morning prayers we say, “Blessed are You, Hashem… Who FORMS light and CREATES darkness.” What is the difference between forming and creating? Creating is something from nothing. Forming is taking existing matter and molding it into a new design. Some commentaries derive from this blessing that DARKNESS is a new creation from nothing, while LIGHT was formed from an existing entity!

How does that work? The Malbim explains that before the sun was created, when G-d said, “Let there be light,” a brilliant light filled the whole world. This light was sourced in the Light of all Lights, G-d Himself. G-d simply allowed His own light to filter down into physical form and illuminate the world. Hence, light was FORMED rather than created from nothing.

Darkness, on the other hand, was a brand-new creation. G-d, in His infinite wisdom, willed there to be an entity from which He could withhold His light. Hence the word CREATION.

In our lives, there are periods of light and darkness. Unfortunately, there is no way around that. But never forget: the light is always there, even when it feels dark. It is our job to bring G-d into our lives, and then, by definition, our lives will be full of light. Just as G-d intended!

Rabbi Tal Sessler
Temple Beth Zion

During World War One, Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook was stranded in London, where he encountered Rembrandt’s paintings at the National Gallery. Rav Kook famously associated Rembrandt’s extraordinary use of light with the Or Haganuz, the primordial light that, according to rabbinic tradition, God concealed for the righteous. Beauty, in this sense, intimates divinity. As the Psalmist exclaims: “How manifold are Your works, O Lord! In wisdom You have made them all; the earth is full of Your creations” (Psalms 104:24).

Chassidic thought speaks of the Or Ein Sof, the infinite divine light, as both memale kol almin, filling all worlds, and sovev kol almin, surrounding and transcending all worlds. Divine light is simultaneously immanent and transcendent, within creation and beyond it.

Light also became a metaphor for consciousness. The medieval Jewish mystic Rabbi Abraham Abulafia spoke of the “light of the intellect,” whereas Descartes appealed to the “natural light” of reason. Ingenious artists perceived another dimension of that primordial illumination. Van Gogh, with his luminous skies and fields alive with movement, painted the Shekhinah, the immanent divine presence, with his brushstrokes.

“Let there be light” may therefore describe more than a cosmic beginning. It is an enduring invitation to discern within beauty, reason, nature, and human creativity glimmers of the metaphysical light from which creation first emerged.

Rabbi Tova Leibovic-Douglas
Founder of The Ritual House, www.theritual.house

It is with these simple words that the world begins to take shape. Yet, when we look more closely, they don’t entirely make sense. The sun, moon, and stars are not created until days later. So what exactly is this first light? Our sages imagine that this light was different. It was not sunlight, but something far more expansive, a light so vast that by it, one could see from one end of the world to the other. Our ancestors called it Or HaGanuz, the hidden light. Some might understand it as the light of consciousness, an inner light that lives within each of us and within this chaotic world of ours. It gives us the capacity to see beyond what is in front of us and glimpse what might be possible. Imagine how deliberate it is that this light exists in our world even before the sun. Perhaps that is why the next thing we are told is, “God saw the light, that it was good.” From its very beginning, this light is connected with goodness. But what does it mean, then, to live in a world where this light is not always revealed? It means we live in a world that is challenging and filled with endless potential. Beneath moments of darkness and difficulty, there remains a light that was present from the beginning, waiting to be discovered in every breath, every person, every moment. Perhaps that is the work of a lifetime: learning to see the light that is already there.

Rabbi Cheryl Peretz
Interim Dean AJU’s Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies

Before there was light, there was darkness. Before there was order, there was chaos. As the first act of creation, God brought light into that darkness.

The sun, moon, and stars were not created until the fourth day. So, what was this light? Our sages imagined this light as something extraordinary – Or HaGanuz, the hidden primordial light. The Talmud teaches that through this light, Adam could see from one end of the world to the other. According to Midrash, God eventually concealed this light, preserving it for the righteous. Maybe this light was never simply about illumination. It was about true vision – the capacity to see beyond what is immediately before us, to recognize possibilities not yet realized and to discover holiness even in the midst of darkness.

We live in a world that sometimes feels as if it has returned to tohu va-vohu, the pre-creation chaos. We see division, suffering, uncertainty, and darkness. It is easy to become overwhelmed by what is broken and lose sight of what might yet be. Yet the Torah reminds us that darkness is not the end of the story. Creation begins precisely there. Perhaps Or HaGanuz is not only a light awaiting some distant future. Perhaps fragments of that primordial light are entrusted to us, waiting to be revealed through our acts of compassion, courage, justice, and hope. Our task is not simply to wait for the light. It is to become the people through whom that hidden light shines.

Liane Pritikin
Public Speaker, Torah Teacher

“Let there be light” might be the first AI prompt in history—l’havdil. G-d said something and then it happened. But if there’s only G-d, what is the AI—Himself? Who is G-d talking to?

I recently fell down an internet rabbit hole that led me to Avital Balwit, who wrote about a Silicon Valley running joke: tech researchers are “building G-d.” It used to seem hard to believe that G-d could keep track of everyone, everywhere, all at once. How could G-d be big and small at the same time? Once upon a time computers were the size of a room. Then they shrank to desktops, laptops, our wrists, and will soon be a feature in our glasses. Eventually they may be invisible – l’havdil – just like G-d.

Yet if we look closely – if we search – we can “see” G-d. People often ask, why doesn’t G-d make himself more obvious? The classic answer: then there would be no free will. My answer is – how much more obvious does G-d need to be? “Light” is synonymous with clarity and understanding. We live in a world sorely lacking in either.  False images created by AI and misguided artists dominate the narrative. 

Rabbi Dessler says that light refers to the recognition of the divine.  In the beginning G-d said let there be a recognition of me.  Who is G-d talking to? Us. May 5787 be a year full of clarity, understanding, and recognition of G-d.  Let there be light.

With thanks to Rabbi Aryeh Markman, Rabbi Tal Sessler, Rabbi Tova Leibovic-Douglas, Rabbi Cheryl Peretz, and Liane Pritikin.

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