When the Holy One Calls a Man ‘El’ — Yaakov, Moshe, and Mashiach
The verse says: “And he erected there an altar and called it El Elohei Yisrael – ‘God, the God of Israel’” [Bereishit 33:20]. Rashi explains that this does not mean the altar itself was called “God of Israel,” but rather that Yaakov named the altar in gratitude for the miracle, so that the praise of HaShem who was with him and saved him would be remembered whenever the name was mentioned. In his words, “‘And he called it’ – not that the altar is called ‘God, the God of Israel,’ but because the Holy One, blessed be He, was with him and saved him, he called the name of the altar after the miracle, that praise of the Holy One should be mentioned when it is mentioned.” [Rashi to Bereishit 33:20] Targum Onkelos similarly renders that Yaakov “offered upon it and gave thanks before El, the God of Israel,” underlining that the altar is a vehicle of worship, not itself divine. At the same time, Rashi quotes the teaching of Chazal (Megillah 18a) that on the level of derash, this verse can be heard a different way: the phrase “וַיִּקְרָא לוֹ – and he called to him” allows for the reading that HaShem called Yaakov “El.” In that reading, the subject of “called” is HaShem, and the “him” is Yaakov; the altar is only the backdrop, not the object of the name. Rashi explicitly says, “Our Rabbis expounded: the Holy One, blessed be He, called Yaakov ‘El’,” and adds that the Torah’s words are like a hammer shattering rock, sending out many sparks – one verse bearing multiple dimensions, echoing the pasuk “Is not My word like fire… and like a hammer that shatters rock?” [Yirmeyahu 23:29; Megillah 18a; Rashi ad loc.]
Ramban gathers both dimensions. On the plain level, he follows Rashi: the altar’s name is an expression of thanks for Yaakov’s salvation, a way of fixing in the world a reminder that HaShem is “God, the God of Israel,” and he compares this to Moshe’s altar “HaShem Nissi” [Shemot 17:15], where the altar bears a name that actually describes HaShem, not the stone. On the deeper level, he writes that our Rabbis expounded a great secret here, “sod gadol amru bo raboteinu”: they spoke of a wording in which HaShem says to Yaakov, in effect, “You are, as it were, ‘god’ in the upper realms, and I am God in the lower realms.” [Ramban to Bereishit 33:20] The “upper realms” here are those associated with the Throne above, where Chazal speak of Yaakov’s “icon,” his likeness, engraved upon the Throne of Glory – “ikonin shel Yaakov chakuqah b’kisei ha-kavod” [Bereshit Rabbah 79:8; see also Eicha Rabbah 2:2] – and the “lower realms” are the earthly domain, especially Eretz Yisrael, where the Shechinah rests. Ramban explicitly connects this with that well-known tradition and explains that the intent is that the Shechinah rests in Eretz Yisrael, and Yaakov is the human face through which that resting is manifested. When Midrash Eicha Rabbah has HaShem speak of the icon of Yaakov engraved on His Throne, it is not speaking of a literal picture in heaven, but of this same truth: Israel’s covenantal root in Yaakov is the “face” by which Divine kingship shows itself into created worlds. In other words, the same word “El” that names HaShem Himself is lent, in a borrowed sense, to the one who becomes the living icon of HaShem’s presence below—never as independent divinity, always as representative and vehicle.
When Chazal speak this way, they are not constructing a second god. The very derash in Megillah 18a that teaches, “From where do we know that the Holy One, blessed be He, called Yaakov ‘El’?” does so precisely through close listening to the wording of the verse; it is an unfolding of the Torah, not a rival theology. Bereishit Rabbah and its sister midrashim, taken as a whole, are very clear about their role: they are midrashic expansions using bold language to hint at metaphysical realities that cannot be accessed by flat literalism. The statement that HaShem is “God below” and Yaakov is “god above” in one version of the derash [Bereshit Rabbah 79:8; Ramban ad loc.] is a way of saying that there is a single Divine governance, but it appears in the upper world as the hidden God and in the lower world through the righteous who bear His image and His Shechinah. The same midrashic tradition, and its classic commentaries, stress that “El” in this context also carries the meaning of “power,” “might,” “authority”; Rishonim already note that El and Elohim can denote “judge” or “one invested with authority” (as in “Elohim lo tekalel” and “ad ha-Elohim yavo dvar sheneihem” in Shemot, where “Elohim” is understood by Chazal as earthly judges). [Shemot 22:7–8, 27; Sanhedrin 2a] It is the power of governance entrusted to a human being who has so emptied himself into HaShem’s will that his leadership can be called, figuratively, “Divine” in the world, while all agree that worship is directed only to HaShem Himself.
At this point the category of tzelem Elokim becomes crucial. The Torah’s original statement, “God created the adam in His image” [Bereishit 1:27], is already unpacked by Bereshit Rabbah 8:1 as meaning that the human being reflects certain Divine ways of acting, while remaining a creature. Rambam, in Moreh Nevukhim, identifies tzelem with the human intellect that can know God and truth. [Moreh Nevukhim I:1] Saadiah Gaon, in Emunot ve-Deot, speaks of man’s rational soul as the locus of Divine likeness. Meshech Chochmah, in his commentary to Bereishit, highlights dominion exercised under God’s law as the expression of “in Our image.” Rav Dessler (Michtav MeEliyahu) emphasizes the capacity to give rather than to take as the core of God-likeness. Rav Joseph B. Soloveitchik, in his essay The Lonely Man of Faith, gathers these into a portrait of “image of God” as the human being’s “inner charismatic endowment as a creative being,” expressed in the striving and ability to become a creator, a co-worker in bringing the hidden potential of the world into actuality under the covenant. From that perspective, HaShem calling Yaakov “El” means that Yaakov has reached a fullness of tzelem Elokim: his middot, his initiative, his way of carrying responsibility and suffering, have become a clear mirror of the Divine way of being. The Shechinah, so to speak, finds in him a form in which to dwell and be perceived, the way that in Soloveitchik’s reading Adam ha-rishon is given a mandate “to subdue” precisely as an expression of Divine-like creativity, not of arbitrary power.
This is also how the tradition describes Moshe Rabbeinu. Various sources in Chazal and later kabbalists crystallize a dictum that “the Shechinah spoke from the throat of Moses,” meaning that Moshe’s speech was so completely aligned with the Divine will that his voice became a transparent medium for the Divine voice. The Alter Rebbe in Tanya (Likutei Amarim ch. 34) cites “our Sages’ statement: ‘The Shechinah speaks from the throat of Moses’” and traces it to Midrash Rabbah on Shemot and Vayikra and to the Mekhilta on the revelation at Sinai, where Moshe’s voice and the Divine voice are described as coinciding. [Shemot Rabbah, Parashat Shemot; Vayikra Rabbah, beginning; Mekhilta de-Rabbi Yishmael to Shemot 19:19; Tanya, Part I ch. 34; Iggeret HaKodesh 25] Moshe remains a human being, finite, fragile, mortal; yet in his role as prophet, the “I” that speaks Torah is the “I” of HaShem passing through his throat. For that reason, the Sages can say in midrash, “Moshe is the first redeemer and he is the last redeemer,” tying the first geulah from Egypt to the ultimate geulah. [Shemot Rabbah 2:4] Kohelet Rabbah, on the verse “What has been is what will be” [Kohelet 1:9–10], similarly teaches, “As was the first redeemer, so will be the last redeemer,” comparing details of Moshe’s mission to the future Mashiach. [Kohelet Rabbah 1:10] The person who will be recognized as the ultimate Mashiach will not be Moshe’s biological self but will be animated by the same prophetic, Shechinah-bearing root; it is the one continuous current of Divine redemption, not the deification of any single individual. Later mekubalim (and Chassidic teachings based on the Zohar and Tikkunei Zohar) describe this as “itpashtuta de-Moshe bechol dara,” the extension of Moshe in every generation, especially in the soul-root of the final redeemer. [Tikkunei Zohar 69; Tanya, Likutei Amarim ch. 42; Sha’ar HaGilgulim, hakdamah 20]
The Torah and the prophets describe the end-state of redemption in language that almost sounds like HaShem walking among human beings. Vayikra 26:12 says, “I will walk among you and I will be your God, and you will be My people.” Yechezkel 37:27 repeats, “My dwelling-place shall be over them; I will be their God, and they shall be My people,” in the context of the covenant of peace and the reunified kingdoms under David. Shemot 25:8 commands, “They shall make Me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among them,” not “in it,” directing attention to the people themselves as the locus of the Shechinah. [Vayikra 26:12; Yechezkel 37:26–27; Shemot 25:8] Classical mefarshim like Sforno understand “I will walk among you” as an image for hashra’at ha-Shechinah felt in every aspect of communal and personal life, not an anthropomorphic God physically pacing through streets. Sforno writes that wherever the righteous are found, holiness will be present, and that this “walking” means God accompanying Israel in all their activities. [Sforno to Vayikra 26:12] When Mashiach comes, the world will finally be in a condition where HaShem can be described as “walking among men” because human beings and their societies will have been refined enough to serve as His dwelling.
From this standpoint, to say “Mashiach is not God, but God is Mashiach” is to reverse the usual direction of projection; this is my own shorthand, not a literal formula from Chazal, and it must be heard carefully. The point is not that a human being ascends into divinity, but that the one single God chooses to reveal Himself in an unmistakable way through a particular anointed king and teacher, in continuity with the way He has always revealed Himself through His prophets and tzaddikim. Mashiach is completely possessed by HaShem in the sense that “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine” [Shir HaShirim 6:3]: the Beloved here is HaShem, and the “I” is Knesset Yisrael, the collective soul of Israel, which belongs entirely to Him even as He, in love and covenant, binds Himself to them. HaShem is all of us in the sense that there is no existence outside of Him; everything that exists, exists inside His life and His will (“ein od milvado,” “There is none else beside Him” [Devarim 4:35]). At the same time, all of us are His possession in the sense that none of us is Him. Nothing in the language of Chazal allows for a flesh-and-blood individual to be worshipped as God in essence; avodah zarah is precisely the worship of any created form, even a star or an angel. [Rambam, Hilkhot Avodat Kokhavim 1:1–3] What they do allow, and even demand, is that a person become so given over to HaShem that the Shechinah can live and act through that person without obstruction, while the absolute Creator–creature distinction is never blurred. Rambam’s description of Mashiach in Hilkhot Melakhim 11–12 is consistent with this: Mashiach is a mortal king from the house of David who restores Torah and sovereignty, not a god in human form, and belief in his coming is one of the fixed principles of Jewish faith. [Rambam, Hilkhot Melakhim 11–12]
The name “Adam” itself hints at this. The human being is called Adam, which can be heard as alef plus dam. The dam, the blood, is the life of the creature – “for the life of the flesh is in the blood” [Vayikra 17:11], and “for the blood, it is the soul” in the related formulation “ki ha-dam hu ha-nefesh” [Devarim 12:23]. Hasidic masters, for example the Kedushat Levi, note explicitly that Adam is alef–dam: the wondrous, hidden Alef invested in, and sometimes obscured by, the lower life of blood and biology. [Kedushat Levi, derashot to Vayikra and related passages] In that sense, “Adam” is the One hidden in the blood, the Infinite contracted into a temporal, embodied life. The Infinite is not born in time as a separate being alongside us; rather, the Infinite inscribes Himself inside the finite as its hidden ground and inner life. When that inner Alef is obscured, there is only dam, blood and biology. When it is revealed and allowed to shape the life of the person, then the human being becomes a living Sefer Torah, a breathing Mikdash. Many later teachers echo this, speaking of Israel as “atem keru’in Adam” [Yevamot 61a], meaning not only “human” but “Adam” in this full sense of alef–dam, a creature in whom the Divine Alef is meant to be visible within the life of the blood.
This is exactly why tzelem Elokim is tied so tightly to mitzvot, to kashrut, to the disciplines of Torah. The verse says, “Sanctify yourselves and you shall be holy, for I am HaShem your God” [Vayikra 20:7], and, “Be holy, for I, HaShem your God, am holy” [Vayikra 19:2]. Ramban, on “You shall be holy,” famously explains that this means “sanctify yourself even in what is permitted to you,” that a person become perush not only from what is forbidden but even from unrestrained indulgence in the permitted, lest he become a “naval birshut haTorah,” a degenerate within the bounds of the law. [Ramban to Vayikra 19:2] Through kashrut, through the way the body eats and the way the tongue speaks, through the patterns of thought and action imposed by mitzvot, the physical and psychological structure of the person is slowly reshaped into a fit dwelling for the Shechinah. Holiness is not an abstraction; it is the concrete form of a life arranged so that HaShem can rest within it without being driven away by corruption and cruelty. In this sense, the command “You shall be holy” functions as a meta-mitzvah that gathers all of Torah into one demand: become a body and a soul in which the Alef is visible through the dam.
In that light, Yaakov’s wrestling with the mysterious “ish” on the night before meeting Esav becomes a double struggle. On one level, it is a battle with the yetzer hara in the most basic senses: fear, anger, resentment, the urge to flee, the impulse to control through cunning alone. Yaakov remains alone, and the “man” struggles with him until dawn, as Chazal describe the encounter with the sar of Esav [Bereishit 32:25–33; Chullin 91a] and, in some readings, the internal conflict between yetzer tov and yetzer hara. [Bereshit Rabbah 77:3] On another, deeper level, it is a struggle with a more subtle yetzer: once a person has been lifted to the place where HaShem can call him “El” in the lower world, once his image is engraved on the Throne in the sense described by Ramban and the midrashim, there is a constant temptation to believe that the power flowing through him is his. In other words, the yetzer here is not only to fall below tzelem Elokim into animality, but to rise above tzelem Elokim into a fantasy of personal godhood.
The night struggle, then, is the crucible in which both temptations are burned out. Yaakov is wounded in his thigh, marked forever as limited, as a creature who limps; he is blessed with the name Yisrael, “for you have struggled with God and with men and have prevailed.” He emerges as someone who has aligned his life more fully with tzelem Elokim and, at the same time, has learned in his own flesh that he is not God, only the one who bears God’s name. In that same way, Moshe bears the Shechinah in his voice, and Mashiach will bear the Shechinah in his kingship and teaching. HaShem is the One who walks among men; the men through whom He walks are His possession, His instruments, His beloveds, never His equals, never His rivals, always His living image and His house in this world. “HaShem is Me, but I am not He,” God is within, but I remain His possession—His son, His Bride. That last paradoxical line is not a slogan of Chazal, but a way of holding together the two sides I have been tracing: absolute immanence of the Shechinah in the tzelem Elokim, and absolute transcendence of the One who lends His Name yet remains forever beyond.