We often ask: If the Torah is primarily a book of laws, why didn’t Hashem begin the Torah with the laws? Moreover, why did He begin it with stories — with the story of Creation, Adam and Eve, Noah, and the Patriarchs?

Rabbi Warren Goldstein gives a beautiful answer to this question.

He explains that the Torah begins with stories because stories are how God creates. In the beginning of Genesis, God doesn’t legislate the world into existence — He speaks it into existence. “Let there be light… Let there be a firmament…” The entire creation is brought into being through the power of speech and story.

This teaches us something fundamental:

Stories create reality.

Just as God used stories (the Ten Utterances) to create the physical world, we use stories to create our relationships. Additionally, we use them to build our families, our communities, and even our own identities.

The laws of the Torah only make sense once you understand the story — who we are, where we came from, and what kind of world we are meant to build.

That is why the Torah doesn’t begin with “Thou shalt not…” It begins with “In the beginning, God created…”

Because before you can teach someone how to live, you must first tell them who they are.

Pirkei Avot – “The world was created with ten statements” (ba’asara ma’amarot nifrah ha’olam). It then immediately connects this teaching to the beginning of Genesis.

He says something very close to this:

“It’s taking us back to the beginning of the book of Genesis where God creates the world and He says ‘Vayehi Or – Let there be light.’ And all the way that God brings the world and the universe into existence is through the power of speech… God created the universe with the power of words… And what we learn from here is that words create worlds.”

The Real Work That Matters: Prayer, Family, and the Tree of Life

Chief Rabbi Warren Goldstein’s latest teaching on Parshat Tzav cuts straight to the heart: “Love work.” Not just “do work” — love it. Pirkei Avot doesn’t tell us to tolerate our responsibilities; it commands us to love them.

And what is the greatest work we will ever do?

It’s not our careers. It’s not our side projects. It’s the daily, often invisible labor of prayer, marriage, and raising children.

In the Garden of Eden, Hashem gave Adam one clear instruction: “You may eat from every tree in the garden.” That included the Tree of Life. But to eat from that tree means accepting the full package — life, growth, joy… and also pain, loss, and death. The Tree of Life doesn’t shield us from difficulty. It teaches us that real life requires us to do the hard, holy work.

This is exactly what you did for the last five years. Every week you drove to see your mother, even when she no longer knew who you were. Many family members said, “It’s too hard.” You showed up anyway. That was avodah — sacred service. That was loving the work.

Today the world screams the opposite message. We hand our children phones and car keys instead of our time. We scroll instead of speaking. We outsource the raising of our kids to screens while wondering why they feel empty.

The Torah’s answer is simple and ancient.

The greatest work you will ever do is sitting down and reading your child the story of Adam and Eve, the blueprint of creation, and the Tree of Life that stands in the center of the Garden. That single act — turning off the phones, closing the laptop, and opening the book — carries more eternal weight than almost anything else you will do in your lifetime.

Prayer, marriage, and parenting are not side activities. They are the main thing. They demand our greatest attention, our greatest effort, and our greatest love.

This is what the Kohanim taught us when they cleaned the ashes off the altar every single morning. It was dirty, repetitive, menial work — yet the Torah calls it holy service. Because the dignity of work doesn’t come from how glamorous the task is. It comes from the purpose behind it.

When you change a diaper, comfort a crying child, or sit with your spouse after a long day — you are doing holy work. When you teach your children the story of the Tree of Life, you are planting eternity inside them.

Turn off the phones. Stop buying them distractions. Sit down and read them the story.

Because the Tree of Life is still in the center of the garden, and it is still calling us to do the real work — the work that actually matters.

Hazan Gavriel ben David