Episode Transcript
[00:00:00] Speaker A: Uh, as the world around us races forward in search of tomorrow's breakthroughs, join us as we discover the insights that have shaped Jewish life for centuries. Together, we'll study with Judaism's greatest minds, exploring timeless wisdom that continues to guide and inspire. You're listening to Inside the Jewish Mind JLI podcast.
Not to get too philosophical on you, but what are we doing here? It's life's ultimate question, the one that's kept thinkers up at night forever. But what if? Our constant search for an answer suggests that deep down, we know there is one. In his 2013 talk, Rabbi Sheis Taub dives deeply into this mystery, asking, if God created this world, why did he do it? In it, you'll discover some of the most profound ideas in all of Jewish philosophy, as, uh, he sheds light on how the answer may be a lot more personal than we think.
Let's get started.
[00:01:08] Speaker B: If God didn't need to create, then why did he?
That's a good question. It's a great question. And if we can start to even talk about that question, we can understand a lot other things, because it all goes back to. I mean, everything in this world goes back to, why is it here? If we can start to get an inkling of appreciation for what was God thinking?
What was he after?
The answer is a whole lot of other questions.
The answer to this question is really in the question itself.
There's a little boy in cheder. He ran up to his rebbe. He says, rebbe, Rabbi Shloimy wanted to hit me.
And the teacher says, well, that's terrible to cast aspersions upon shloime. How do you even know that he wanted to hit you? The little boy was a Talmud chochem, a son of a rabbi. He says, if Shloimeh didn't want to hit me, then why did shloimy?
There's Talmudic logic there.
So when you say God didn't need to create, he doesn't need anything, doesn't need to do anything. So what?
So what's the answer then? Why did he create? If he didn't need to create, why did he do it? He was bored. I don't think he gets bored. He must have really, really wanted to.
And when I say he wanted to, I don't mean it was a passing fancy. I mean it must have been a burning desire.
I mean, it must have been a passionate desire.
The best word we can try to use to relate it to human experience would be lust.
So when the medrash says, why did God Create the world because he lusted.
Yet a taiva. The best translation is, he lusted to have a dwelling place in the lower realms.
And that's why when King Solomon wanted to write a poem, he wanted to write an extended metaphor to explain God's relationship with us. He chose the imagery of an erotic love poem.
By the way, that was not a neurotic love poem. I should divide my syllables better. An erotic love poem.
A neurotic love poem would be, roses are red, violets are blue. If you leave me, I'll kill myself.
That would be a neurotic love pill.
No, but God's not like that.
He's not a codependent.
He deeply desires an intimate relationship, but he's not needy.
He's not needy in the sense of emotionally needy, clingy, looking for validation.
You know, like some relationships. Tell me who I am.
Please. Validate me. Give me meaning. It's not intimacy. That's barter.
You give me validation, I'll give you whatever you want.
No. God knows exactly who he is.
He is who he is. Absolute existence needs no validation. But he has this deep, passionate, burning desire to have an intimate relationship.
It's not practical.
Not practical.
It's romantic. You know how much easier life would be without romance? But it's not practical. See, practical would be God had a particular need, and creation was the way to get that need met. Very practical. Business. It's a business.
That's how a lot of people think of God. Rosh Hashanah is coming up. A lot of people think about it that way. They think about, well, I'm working for the firm for however many years. And every year we get evaluated. Our, uh, performance is judged. And I'm just hoping I don't go to get my paycheck and I'll open it up and there'll be a pink slip saying, thank you for your time with the company. You have not been written in the book of life.
You are no longer needed. Your services are no longer needed. Come pick up your gold watch. Creation isn't a practical need on God's part. It's not a business.
It's a passionate desire.
It's a romance.
See, when, uh, you start to think about life as well, God needed something practical.
So then you start to fixate on the reward and punishment, right? Because if you have a job you need done, you hire someone to do it. I need this. I'll pay you to do it for me. It's very practical. Nothing personal, just business. But if it's a passionate Yearning desire. I can't just hire someone to do it. It doesn't work. It's personal.
I can't tell God. Look, God, stop being so romantic about me just because I'm Jewish. Be practical. You want tefillin put on in the morning? I know 10 non Jews who will do it.
That would be practical. But this isn't practical. It's a romance.
See?
Explain another thing. Because needs are practical. You can defend them. Like if the husband tells the wife, we need a new car, and she says, I don't think we do. And then they have a discussion, and they both present their pros and cons, and in the end they make a decision. And the one who, uh, says to the other one, no, we don't need. It's not a big insult. You know why? Because a need. When I say I need something, I'm. I'm stating. I've made it an intelligent evaluation. I'm coming to a conclusion. If you disagree with me, you're just negating my conclusion. You're telling me you don't agree with my, uh, with my thinking. So you don't think I'm so brilliant you think I made a decision that wasn't so necessary? Okay, let's say, however I tell you, I want something. Something totally impractical. There's no need to. It just a pr. It's just. It's just a. It's a pet peeve. It's a personal thing. Let's say this wife told this husband, please don't leave your socks on the floor. I just made that up. That never happened in our home or anything.
Actually, there was this troubled couple, and they came to me and they told me about that, and I was very shocked, but I don't know what became of them. It was.
So the wife tells the husband, please just don't leave your socks on the floor. I just, uh. I want you to just put the socks in the hamper. I just. It bothers me just. And he says to her, well, that's a silly thing to want. It's a silly thing to care about. You didn't just negate that person's thinking or their intellect.
You negated that person in their entirety. Because when a person describes or expresses a desire, desire isn't my intellect. It's not practical. Desire is my me. This is me. This is what I want. When you reject what I want, you reject me. So when God gave the Torah, was he revealing 613 practical stuff, chores around the house that he needed done? And he said, you know what, guys? Uh, how much do I got to pay you? 20 bucks to rake the leaves? Was it like that, or were these deeply personal desires? 613 desires. 248 things that he loves that just melt his heart. Those are the do's.
And 365 things that make his skin crawl. 365. Don't do's.
When God gave the Torah, he was being pretty vulnerable.
I mean, if there are things that you like and dislike, you don't reveal that to someone you don't trust. They could use that against you.
When a Jew wants to lash out at God, he knows exactly what sandwich to eat. He does not have to guess.
A Jew knows how to hurt God because God made himself vulnerable. And he told us what he likes and what he doesn't like. There was once a, uh, teacher, a rabbi. He was giving a Talmud class. There was a bunch of intellectuals were coming to the class. There were professors. And he invited this one guy to come. The guy was secular. And he says, I'm sorry, I can't come to the class. I'm very secular. He says, um, it's okay. Not everyone in the class is religious. It's great. Come to the class. He says, no, no, no. But I'm really very, very secular. This was in Israel. The rabbi says, that's okay. Come to the class. He says, look, you don't understand. I eat pork. He says, okay, on Shabbat, specifically. So the rabbi says, okay, so I have my way of observing Shabbat. You have your way of observing Shabbat. There's no non Jew in the world who's about to bite into a pork sandwich on a Wednesday afternoon. And he stops, oh, hold on. Let me save this for Friday night. Then it will take on a much greater significance. There's no significance. Why? Because God never told the non Jew that it bothered him if he ate pork. He told the Jew, it bothers him if you eat the pork.
So God made himself very, very vulnerable in revealing these likes and these dislikes.
They're not practical needs.
They're deep desires.
I was one time talking to a group of people. I was giving a class, and I was talking about this idea that God is, uh, he desires relationship with us. He desires intimacy. He reveals his desires so that we can gratify him, fulfill his desires. And there was this one lady, she was getting really, really upset.
And finally she just. No, she couldn't contain herself anymore. And she says, I can't stand it. I can't stand the way you're talking about God, you make God sound like a wimp. I said, why? What's wimpy about him? She said, because you're saying he wants me to do this. He wants me to. Like, I can't understand you. Well, what do you say? Why are you saying that he needs these things? I said, I didn't say he needed it. I said he didn't need it. It's not a practical thing. I said, he deeply desires it. She said, that's even worse.
I said, why can't God deeply desire something?
She said, because it makes him, you know, weak. You know, there's this general principle. Don't answer the question. Answer the questioner. I knew a little bit about this questioner. I knew that this lady was a lawyer, high powered attorney. She made a lot of money. In fact, she made more money than her husband. She was more successful than him. So I said to her, let me ask you a question.
Would you like to get flowers from your husband on your birthday this year? She says, yeah, of course.
I said, let me. Let me suggest something to you, okay?
Your, uh, husband, he may send you the flowers, he may not. Even if he sends them, you may have had to hint so much, it's barely worth it. This year, on your birthday, save yourself the agony.
You want something done right, like they say, do it yourself. You're a very competent woman. You take care of a lot of things.
Order the flowers, you call ftd, and you get exactly the bouquet that you want. In fact, you can even write the card. You will dictate on the phone the exact love poem that you want to be written on your birthday card, on your birthday bouquet. You could even choose. You'll tell them where to deliver it. You'll choose where to surprise yourself in your car, at home, maybe. It'll be waiting on your desk. When you come to work, you set it up. Blow your own mind, okay? Just romance yourself off your feet. Just go nuts. She says, that doesn't work and you know it. I said, uh, yeah, I know it doesn't work, and you know it doesn't work.
What I would like to know is, why doesn't it work? It doesn't work because it was never about the flowers.
If it were about the flowers, you'd take care of it. Just like you take care of thousands of much more important and difficult tasks in the course of a day. If it were practical, you would get it done. You do it better than anyone. But it's not practical, and it's not A business.
It's a desire and it's romantic.
And the fact that you want intimacy means you've made a decision. You're going to risk vulnerability. You can't have intimacy without taking that risk. So God didn't need a practical fixer up project done around the house. Come on, everybody, chip in. Let's do it. I'll take you all out for pizza when we're done.
God wanted a very personal, romantic, intimate relationship. And in order to get that intimate relationship, he had to risk something. He had to make himself vulnerable. He had to allow us the opportunity to break his heart. You know, there was an opportunity for God to form that relationship with the angels. The angels wanted it. They wanted, oh boy, did they want it. God didn't want it because you can't be vulnerable to a robot pushing the numbers. And you tell what the robot should do and then bring me a cup of coffee and he brings you the cup of coffee. There's no risk, there's no vulnerability. That's what an angel does, just follows orders.
Let me ask you a question. It says in the book of Genesis when it talks about creation that when God made Adam, the Adam was male and female as one, one organism. And then God said, it's not good for this Adam to be alone. We would say, it's not good for this man to be alone. But it wasn't really a man, it was a Adam, uh, a D, A M. It was a. You know what an atom means? It M means an earthling really, because Adama is the earth. Like when you make a blessing on a vegetable and you say, right, so an Adam, an Adam is an earthling. That's where he came from. He was a clump of dirt. So God says, it's not good for this earthling, this androgynous hermaphroditic being, to be alone. Let's split him up. And so he made Adam and Eve.
He splits them up. And what does God say? Cleave together, become one flesh. Okay, so a little biblical exegesis here. Just, you know, simple questions. How did God start with the Adam who is one being? God says, this isn't good, let's split them up. He splits them up. He says, cleave together, become one flesh. So make up your mind.
When it was one, you wanted two, when it was two, you wanted one. What do you want? It was good the way you made it. Then leave it that way. If it wasn't good the way you made it, you're God. Don't make it that way in the first place. Make it the way that you wanted it.
It's a good question. Right. So obviously there are no mistakes. It wasn't an error in judgment. It wasn't that God didn't realize until later on that this is. He wouldn't like it this way.
God wanted the process. What process did he want? He wanted there to be one being. He wanted that one being then to have to separate into two dimensions, a masculine and a feminine one. And then he wanted that masculine and feminine dimension to reunite. In other words, he didn't want unity. He wanted reunion.
Right. Because even when the man and the woman unite and become one flesh, they don't really become one flesh the way they were before they were separated. When a man and a woman, two halves of one body, we often say husband, uh, and wife are two halves of a soul. It's not true. Two halves of a body. When a man and a woman reunite the two halves of the body, they don't go back to the way Adam and Eve were when they were one body. They become much more than that. They have children. That's what the one flesh is. So I'm not here to tell you where babies come from. That's not my intention. The point is, this is a metaphor. We are the metaphor. Human sexuality is a metaphor.
For what? For God. It's a metaphor for God. God wanted us to know and to feel what he feels.
God wanted us to have that desire, that irrational desire that life would be so much easier and more rational without, so that we could relate to him and the passion that he feels when he brings creation into existence every second.
How? Uh, so very simple. Before God ever created, there was just one. Just oneness, infinitely, eternally oneness, nothing else. Kind of like the way that Adam started. Just one.
And God said about his own oneness, this is not good. I don't like it.
And so he split himself up into creator and creation, husband and wife, two halves of a whole.
But God didn't really make himself into two halves. God forbid. You can't say there's two parts of God. God split himself, so to speak.
You have to be very careful when you talk about these things.
I mean, is God creator or creation?
So if you're Jewish, you say, Shema Yisroel Ade noy Eleheinu Adinoi echod Oneness. You can't say God is creator or creation. He's got to be totality, oneness, the all. There's the creator aspect of God. There's the Creation aspect of God.
There's the husband, there's the wife, but it's one being. It's one unit.
But the way that it existed before it was divided or it appeared to be divided wasn't satisfying.
Adam and Eve were one body to begin with, but they weren't satisfied with that. There was no pleasure in that, because the pleasure isn't from unity. The pleasure is from reunion. The intense craving, the passion, the irrational desire that drives people even to do crazy things is the craving for reunion, to become whole again with that which you come from, to be returned to your essential and true state. There's no driving passion like that in the world. And that's what God felt when he said, you know what? I'm oneness, pure, perfect and complete.
What I want to do, I want to split myself, so to speak, or create the illusion or the appearance of separation. And then I want the deep satisfaction of reuniting those two. And when will be the deep satisfaction of reuniting creator and creation, spiritual and physical, heavenly and earthly. When Mashiach comes. And that was the purpose all along for which God created the world. The engagement was at Matan Torah, Mount Sinai. When God gave the Torah, that was the engagement.
But the real wedding night will be when Moshiach comes.
And on that day, Hashem will be Achad. His name will be Achad will see that he is a Chod. He is one. His oneness, totality. Not unity, but reunion. And that's when the real fun just begins.
The courtship is, you know, courtship's the courtship.
But the real satisfaction begins from the wedding night and on.
So you ask yourself a question.
What am I doing here?
Why am I here?
You want to know the honest answer? It's uncomfortable. I mean, it's like, kind of makes us squeamish.
It's kind of like having to think about the fact that if you were born, your parents had to have at least once had some type of an intimate relationship.
Uh, we don't like to think about it, but by definition, you know, well, this is. This is deeper than that. Why am I here? How did I get here? Why is there a world?
Because someone, and I'm saying someone, you know, hint, hint, wink, wink, Capital S on that someone. Because someone had a taiver, uh, a lustful desire that he couldn't satiate.
Someone was in the mood for love.
He was out for romance. That someone happens to be absolute existence.
Absolute existence had a taiver.
You know, I was. I was explaining this to, uh, some yeshiva students.
I was Telling them about Hashem's taiva, his longing.
So I said, uh, you know the difference between me and Hashem? I mean, there are a few differences, but one big one I'll tell you in Hebrew and then I'll kill it by translating and explaining.
All of his taivas are lashem Shemayim.
All of his desires are for the sake of heaven.
See, I have a lot of desires too.
Some are kosher desires for the sake of heaven. Some are selfish desires.
But all of God's taivas, all of his passions and desires are for the sake of heaven. So you say, hold on a second. That's not fair.
He is heaven.
So of course all of his desires are for the sake of heaven. That's circular logic. So he has carte blanche. He is automatically justified because he's God. So he's doing everything for God's sake. Like you say to God, would you cut that out, for God's sake? Okay, it sounds funny, but the truth is there's a very sensible answer to all this.
Of course, all of his irrational romantic desires are legitimate, are automatically holy and legitimate, and need to be fulfilled.
Not so with me. I have some deep desires that really don't need to be fulfilled.
As much as I protest to the contrary, they don't need to be fulfilled.
But with God, of course, all of his deep irrational desires need to be fulfilled, ought to be fulfilled. You know why?
Because we were saying before he's absolute existence. In other words, he doesn't need anything to validate him. He's validated.
He's the essence of. Ah, validated.
So when he wants something, desires something, longs for something, he really longs for it. It's no joke.
And that desire, that passion, is sufficient reason to create an entire world in every life of every human who's ever lived. All to be part of getting that desire met.
It's a tough one. I'm saying emotionally, intellectually, it's not tough intellectually. It's pretty, pretty clear, pretty straightforward.
It makes more sense than any other explanation for why we're here. Emotionally, it's tough.
Why are we here? Because God had a desire.
You know why it's emotionally tough?
Because it forces us to admit God's vulnerability. And it forces us, and please forgive me here for a second, to look at God in a little bit of a human way. And I don't mean God forbid to look at God as a human. I mean to you to be in touch with your own humanity. When you look at God, we're so Impersonal with God, like he's this big, giant machine.
It's so not nice.
All he wants is this romantic, intimate relationship with you, and you want to turn it into points.
What do I get for this mitzvah? Uh, what punishment do I get? How many demerits for that one? You want to make it all about reward and punishment. Is there reward and punishment? Yes, obviously there is, but that's not the motivation.
That shouldn't be the motivation for any mature person.
Any adult shouldn't be motivated by the fact you're going to get paid. You have to get paid for it. It's not love. It's not intimacy.
If you need the reward and if you fear the punishment, just not nice to God. You're not being nice to him.
It's cruel.
Here he is being all vulnerable, and you're turning it into a business transaction.
How about you respond to this vulnerable, romantic overture in kind?
Oh, you really like when I take leather boxes with the, uh, shema inside them written on cowhide, and I wrap them on my arm and between my eyes. Okay, if that's what you like, he says, yeah, it melts my heart. Okay, if that melts your heart, it makes you crazy. If you take wool and linen and you mix them together into one fiber that just. I can't stand it, you know? Okay, I don't. I don't get it.
A mitzvah is gratifying a desire.
A, uh, mitzvah is telling the person who has the desire, or in this case, God, who has the desire.
You matter.
In other words, I don't need you to intellectually defend the thing that you need. All I need to know is it's for you. So if my wife tells me that a particular dinner is her favorite dinner, I don't need her to explain it to me. I need to take note of it.
And I don't have to argue with her and say, well, actually, you know, there are many better dishes than that. Let me educate you. Let me make you more of a culinary expert. Uh, let me expose your palate to. You know what? You ruined it. You killed it. I told you what I like. Take note of it.
What's the appropriate. What's the healthy response when somebody who loves you doesn't need you in a clingy, neurotic way? Someone who loves you and wants intimacy with you tells you something that they like or they dislike. What's the appropriate response to that?
Anything you want, honey. And not that passive aggressive. Uh, anything you want, honey.
After you say the anything you want, honey. Not just you say it, but you do it.
And the lover knows that the beloved is going to respect his or, uh, her likes and dislikes. What's the next smart thing to say?
Tell me more about that. Why do you like that?
But catch this. The order is so essential here.
If they tell you what they like and your first response is, why do you like that?
That's not good.
Because. What does that mean? That means. And, um, we can understand now why that's such a rejection, is because basically they're exposing a desire which has no rational defense, and you're treating it like a need. And you're putting them on the spot and say, argue it for me. Defend your need. Tell me why you like it. Make it make sense to me.
But that wasn't a rational need. It wasn't a practical thing. It was a deeply meaningful. It was a personal thing I shared with you. I like it. I like it. So what's the appropriate response? Whatever you want, honey. Yes. Yes, dear.
Once they know that you're doing it, then you say, you know, I would love to know all about why that's meaningful to you.
Uh, that's beautiful. You want to. Do you want to fulfill my desires and you want to know about me.
Wow, this is great.
I feel so accepted. I feel so close and connected.
So when God gives us the Torah, meaning he reveals his likes and dislikes, he reveals his desires, the first appropriate response is whatever you want, dear. And you can call God dear. That's absolutely fine, desirable, good, healthy.
In other words, to use language we might be more familiar with, is there is performance of mitzvot and study of Torah. So mitzvahs and Torah. Whatever you want, honey. And then after that, tell me all about that.
Why is that so important?
Why do you like that so much? That would be the appropriate. That would be the polite response, the decent response.
Tell you one more thing. There's a, uh, line in the Zohar and talks about the level called chassid.
What's a chassid? Black hat, long coat. Right. I assure you, if you have a few hundred dollars left on your credit card, you can buy this getup. It's not a. What's a Hasid?
So the Zohar says, book of mysticism, Kabbalah.
One who is nice to his maker. One who is kind to his maker.
Are you kind to God? What does God did my kindness for? He created a whole world for it.
He wanted your love. He wanted intimacy with you. He created the whole world Just to get it so that he could be in a relationship with you.
To reveal how his true self is really only when he's one with you. But not one with you the way he was before you even existed. Because you were one with him before you existed. Right? When you were non existent and you were one with be all, you were also one with him. That's not what he wanted. That was him being alone. He didn't like it. He wanted to be one with you in a way after you already exist and you're one again. The reunification. There are a lot of different metaphors for this relationship. So we talked about. King Solomon's metaphor was the marriage metaphor. But mother, uh, and child is another metaphor.
Father and child, mother and child. Each one is a distinct metaphor.
So bottom line is like this.
Did God need to create?
He didn't need anything.
But it was a deep desire, deeper than any other desire.
The deepest desire.
And the funny thing about it is in order for him to get it, you have to participate. It's like that high powered attorney who can't get flowers because if she'll order them for, um, for herself, it doesn't work.
He's God and he can't even do it for himself.
He wants it from you.
When you think about it like that, it's a whole different relationship.
I have a friend who, uh, he's my age. But when he was a bacher in yeshiva he went on the uh, summer, they call it merkashliches, the Bachem Yeshiva boys, they go off and uh, they go to far flung communities where they don't yet have a chabad house. So this is about 20 years ago, maybe a little less 15, 20 years ago. And uh, he and his friend were sent to Alaska. On their last day in Alaska, they had a flight back to Seattle and to New York.
There was one more town that was on their list where there was a Jew, a Jew. And they had to visit it still. So on their last day they got in the car and they drove out to this far flung little town where there was one Jew. And she was uh, a schoolteacher. So they went to the school and they asked the principal, can we see this teacher? And the teacher came down to the office. She was the one Jew in the town. And she told them her whole story. She was from New York, from a Jewish family. She, she went to Alaska, she met an Eskimo, she married the Eskimo. She completely assimilated.
And uh, they had a daughter. She and the Eskimo had a daughter. So these two yeshiva boys, they say, you have a daughter. You know what they're thinking, right?
Mother's Jewish, the daughter's Jewish. So they say, where's the daughter? She says, well, she goes to this school. There are not too many other schools around.
I mean, this is the school.
He said, can we see her? She said, okay, yeah, uh, we'll have her come down. So the teacher, the mother goes back to her class and the uh, daughter, the six year old girl comes down to the office.
So my friend is thinking to himself, I got a couple minutes with this girl here.
I'm the first person, maybe the last person who's tell her what it means to be Jewish.
And then I'm out of town, I'm leaving, I'm leaving the state. She's in the middle of nowhere.
Talk about high pressure.
So he thinks to himself, if there's God, you put me in this situation, I'm going to start talking, hopefully make some sensible words come out. So the little six year old girl comes down to the office and uh, he does what any good Lubavitcher boy does when you're on Mitzolem. When you meet a Jewish woman or girl and you take out the Shabbos canvas. He says, do you know what these are? She had no idea. He says, well, these are Shabbos candles. What's Shabbos? Okay, every Friday night the sun goes down and it's a day of rest. But before that happens, before the sun goes down, Jewish women and girls, they light candles, they add light to the world to welcome in the holy day. So what happens is, you know, like in Israel, let's say the sun is going down. And so all the Jewish women and girls, millions of Jewish women and girls in Israel are lighting the Shabbos candles on it Friday before evening. And then, you know how it works. The sun is setting in the west, so a few hours later, it's right before Shabbos in England and in France and millions more Jewish girls are lighting Shabbos candles. A few hours after that the sun gets over the Atlantic Ocean and uh, in New York on the east coast, they're lighting Shabbos candles. Hour after that, they're lighting Shabbos candles in Chicago. A couple hours after that, they're lighting Shabbos candles in la.
And God is watching all of this and he's loving it because each one of these Jewish women and Jewish girls are uh, each one of them with their flame is adding light into the world. It's just an incredible thing. For God. He's really enjoying it. He's watching all of it. And he keeps watching until the sun goes down in the furthest west place.
Until the last Jewish girl lights the last Shabbos flame. He turns to the six year old girl and says, and that last Jewish girl in the whole world is you.
This isn't a business. It's not an assembly line, it's not a factory.
This is a deep and beautiful romance.
And each and every one of us, when we say, bishvili nivra, uh, haylam for my sake, was the world created.
That's a very romantic statement.
Because of God's desire to have an intimate relationship with me, all of this was created. He's got the entire universe and he's looking and he's watching. He's waiting for the moment when I'll fulfill his desire. I'll pick something that I know that he likes.
And I'll do it just because I know he likes it.
[00:38:36] Speaker A: That's all for today. Thanks for listening to Inside the Jewish Mind, a JLI podcast. Be sure to join us every week for fresh insights and timeless Jewish ideas. As always, stay curious, keep learning, and we'll see you next time.
