From the very beginning of the Torah, breath plays a very important role in the relationship between man and his Creator. It is through breath that Hashem transforms man from a lump of dust to a living being. It is through breath that we reaffirm this connection—through speech and song and praise. And it is through breath that we give back our soul when life ends. The act of breathing is one of the most basic signs of connection between the neshama and the Borei Olam—and it’s in this act of breathing that gives us the opportunity to reinforce this connection every moment of every day. The power of breathing is the power to be aware of Hashem both internally and externally, both physically and spiritually.
Bereshit discusses the creation of man on the sixth day of creation: “The Lord God formed adam from the dust of the earth. He blew into its nostrils the breath of life, and adam became a living being.”1 The word for breath here, nishmat, is directly connected to the word for the soul itself, neshama. Through this breath we become a paradox of earthliness and godliness, a creature made from dust and from the essence of spirituality itself.
As Rav Hirsch says, it’s the breath of life that the Creator gave us that frees us from the bonds of the mundane, from the compelling forces of nature and thus even lifting his body from this realm of biological necessity2. When Hashem exhaled this breath of life through our nostrils or aphim, Rav Hirsch continues, he did so through the pathway that is associated with the “greedy absorption of the world around him”, one that represents the seat of anger (erech aphaim) and impatience (ketzer aphaim)3. But it’s this greediness for the world, for life, for the opportunity to “gain a piece of the universe” that anchors man’s soul to his earthly body4. It is the job and the duty of mankind to strive for more, to cleave and to claw and to desire what is outside his grasp. This separates man from animals and even more so from plants, argues Rav Hirsch, as instead of drawing his strength from the earth, “man looks upwards, draws all his strength from above when he hopes, when he wishes, when he thinks; the life breathed into his face sustains him, keeps him upright—with the fading of consciousness, he falls.”5
Bereshit discusses the creation of man on the sixth day of creation: “The Lord God formed adam from the dust of the earth. He blew into its nostrils the breath of life, and adam became a living being.” The word for breath here, nishmat, is directly connected to the word for the soul itself, neshama. Through this breath we become a paradox of earthliness and godliness, a creature made from dust and from the essence of spirituality itself.
From here, we see that though we might share the act of breathing with creatures and lifeforms around us, the breathing of mankind is not the same as theirs. Rather than just being a function of survival, breathing for mankind becomes a constant act of definition and reconnection, always returning us to the source. We can see this through our morning prayers. “My G-d”, we say in our morning brachot, “The soul you placed in my body is pure. You formed it within me, you breathed it into me, and you guard it while it is within me.”6 Every morning, we reaffirm this inherent connection that Hashem granted us by gifting the neshama through our nostrils, and we thank him for the opportunity: “One day You will take it from me and restore it within me in the time to come, but as long as the soul is within me I thank you, O Lord my God […].”7 Rather than a communal prayer like we see in the Amidah, this is an individual’s bracha, addressing “My G-d”, which demonstrates an intimate relationship with his Creator. Through this breath we define ourselves as individuals, something completely unique but shared by many.
Yet we see that this breath of life, despite being so deeply personal to each and every individual, is also a communal gift. As it says in the last perek of Tehillim, “Let everything that has breath praise G-d, Hallelujah.”8 We know that, on some level, all creatures praise Hashem– Perek Shira specifically records what each animal nefesh says in their devotion. But this is even more relevant and more necessary for us, the creation whose praise comes from the breath of life itself. We as mankind have the power of tefillah the way that no other creature on the planet has, because ours is from such a blessed source. Similarly, the Torah states “O God, Source of the breath of all flesh! When one member sins, will You be wrathful with the whole community?”9 Here we see “breath” as an element that unites society, a collective gift of life that protects the individuals and even merits undeserved mercy despite transgressions. We are united together, each of us equally important in the eyes of our Creator.
However, breath doesn’t always have a positive connotation. In direct contrast to the word nishmat is the word hevel, a breath devoid of life and potential. In Kohelet, we see everything described as “hevel havalim” or “vapor upon vapors.”10 Hevel himself, brother to Cain, is a man who is incapable of thinking original thoughts and simply mimics the actions of his brother, his life ultimately ending with Cain’s fit of jealousy. In this context, breath is a fleeting, impossible thing in the vastness of the universe—and Rabbi Jonathan Sacks argues that this is the entire point that the book of Kohelet is exploring. “Kohelet does not find life meaningless, futile, mere vanity. That is an error of translation [of the word hevel]. Kohelet finds life short. The prospect of death threatens to rob him of all happiness, until he realizes that mortality is the very condition of our happiness. Because life is short, every moment is precious.”11 While nishmat might describe the infinite nature of our soul, hevel describes the ephemeral and transient nature of that soul’s journey, and both are essential in the human experience.
The breath of life is the greatest gift that we can receive from our Creator, but without appreciation it can be rendered meaningless. Without recognition, it becomes nothing but “hevel havalim”. The power of breathing is the power of being aware of our relationship with ourselves, our Creator, and our fellow creations. To be aware is to be connected and defined, a soul in a network of souls all individually experiencing their own unique relationship with the Borei Olam.
- Bereshit 7:2 ↩︎
- Rav Hirsch on Bereshit 7:2 ↩︎
- Rav Hirsch on Bereshit 7:2 ↩︎
- Rav Hirsch on Bereshit 7:2 ↩︎
- Rav Hirsch on Bereshit 7:2 ↩︎
- Artscroll, Ohel Sarah Women’s Siddur, 10 ↩︎
- Artscroll, Ohel Sarah Women’s Siddur, 10 ↩︎
- Tehillim 150:6 ↩︎
- Devarim 16:22 ↩︎
- Kohelet 1:2 ↩︎
- Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, “Happiness is to be found in being, not in having,” 25 October 2008, https://rabbisacks.org/archive/happiness-is-to-be-found-in-being-not-in-having/ ↩︎
