“Ki Tov” and “Tov Me’od”: Seeing the Divine in Creation

When we say something is good, we usually mean that we like it and it has our approval. But when God uses this term, He perceives something of greater value. In this penetrating analysis, Rabbi Paul Bloom looks more deeply into what we should understand when God describes His creations as "good".

When the Torah describes the unfolding of Creation, a single phrase recurs six times: “וַיַּרְא אֱלֹקים כִּי־טוֹב” — “And God saw that it was good.”  At first glance, this seems like a simple statement: God looked upon what He had made and declared it good. Yet, on closer reflection, the expression “ki tov” raises a profound question. The word “טוֹב – good” in Tanach usually refers to something of spiritual and eternal value, not merely something that functions well. The Torah itself is called “טוֹב”, as is the Divine Will — goodness that is not only efficient, but enduring and holy.

Why, then, does the Torah use this lofty term to describe the physical processes of nature — the growth of vegetation, the shining of the sun, the movement of the stars? And why, after all these six stages of “ki tov”, does the Torah conclude the chapter with a final, elevated declaration:

וַיַּרְא אֱלֹהִים אֶת-כָּל-אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה, וְהִנֵּה-טוֹב מְאֹד  

“And God saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good”.

What changed between “tov” and “tov me’od”?

The Whole Greater Than Its Parts

One level of interpretation, offered by many classical commentators, is that “tov me’od” marks the moment when the entire creation came together as a unified whole. Each element — the plants, the animals, the heavenly bodies, the seas — was indeed good on its own. But when they began to function together in perfect harmony, forming a complex, interdependent system, the result was something greater than the sum of its parts.  This interconnectedness — what we would now call the ecological balance of the universe — is what made creation not merely good, but “tov me’od.”

The Kli Yakar: “Ki Tov” as Future Potential

The Kli Yakar, however, offers a strikingly different and deeper insight.  He notes that in Biblical Hebrew, the word “כי” (ki) often refers to a future event — something that will happen, rather than something that already is. For example: “כי תבוא אל האר” — “When you will come into the Land,” or “כי תצא למלחמה” — “When you will go out to war.”

Applying this principle to “וַיַּרְא אֱלֹקים כִּי־טוֹב”, the Kli Yakar suggests:  God saw that it would one day become good.  Each stage of creation contained within it the potential for eternal goodness, but that goodness had not yet been realized. The world at that point was magnificent, awe-inspiring — but it lacked meaning. It awaited something, or rather someone, who could perceive and internalize its Divine source.

“Tov Me’od”: When Humanity Awakens

That realization came only with the arrival of Adam and Chavah. When human beings opened their eyes and saw the world not as a collection of phenomena, but as a revelation of the Creator’s wisdom, everything changed. At that moment, all the previous “ki tovs” became “tov me’od.”  Creation now had an observer capable of recognizing its purpose. The universe was no longer a silent masterpiece; it became a living testimony to the glory of its Maker.

The Kli Yakar even finds a beautiful hint in the phrase “טוֹב מְאֹד”. Rearrange the letters of מְאֹד, he says, and it spells “אָדָם” — man.  It was Adam’s consciousness — the human capacity to perceive and declare “מָה רַבּוּ מַעֲשֶׂיךָ’” (How great are Your works, Hashem) — that transformed creation from merely good to very good. Humanity conferred meaning on the world.

Becoming Partners with the Creator

This insight resonates deeply with the teaching of Chazal in Masechet Shabbat (119b):

“Anyone who recites Kiddush on Friday night becomes a partner with the Holy One, blessed be He, in the work of Creation.”

How can a human being be a partner in creation? We cannot form matter from nothing; we cannot shape galaxies or call forth life. Yet, in a profound sense, we complete creation — not physically, but spiritually. God created the physical universe, but it was human awareness that gave it meaning. When a person stands on Friday night and declares “ויכלו השמים והארץ” — “Thus were completed the heavens and the earth” — he affirms that the world has a purpose and a Creator. At that moment, he invests the cosmos with spiritual significance.

In that sense, man is indeed a shutaf laKadosh Baruch Hu — a partner with God. The universe was waiting for beings who could look upon it and see “Kevod Shamayim” — the glory of Heaven — reflected in every element of nature.

“Vayechulu”: The World as a Vessel

The Sfas Emes adds a beautiful layer to this idea. The Torah says:

 “וַיְכֻלוּ הַשָּׁמַיִם וְהָאָרֶץ”

“The heavens and the earth were completed.”

 The word “ויכלו” shares its root with “כֵּלִי” — a vessel or instrument.  When Shabbat entered, and Adam and Chavah recognized their Creator, the entire world became a single great vessel — a kli through which the Divine Presence could dwell and be revealed. Thus, “ויכלו” means more than completion; it means transformation. The universe became a receptacle for holiness, a medium for the Divine will. Creation was not just finished — it was fulfilled.

The Eternal “Ki Tov” in Our Lives

The lesson of “ki tov” and “tov me’od” extends far beyond the opening chapter of Bereishit. Each of us, in our own lives, is called to see the Yad Hashem — the hand of God — in nature, in history, and in our own experiences. When we open our eyes to the miraculous balance of the natural world, when we perceive Divine providence in the unfolding of events, and when we sanctify time through Shabbat — we continue the work of Creation.  We turn potential goodness into realized goodness; “ki tov” into “tov me’od.”

On Shabbat, when we cease our own creative work and simply recognize God’s world, we achieve the highest human calling: to be a partner with the Creator, seeing His light in every corner of existence.

וַיַּרְא אֱלֹהִים אֶת-כָּל-אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה, וְהִנֵּה-טוֹב מְאֹד 

When man recognizes the Divine within creation — only then is the world truly very good.

"Death is very good!"

 Much is written on the mysterious operation of the parah adumah, the red heifer whose ashes are so important for the restoration of ritual purity--but much less is said about the condition that triggers a need for the parah adumah in the first place: death. Inspired by an apparently cryptic comment in Rabbi Meir's sefer Torah, our member Rabbi Steven Ettinger offers a fascinating insight into a topic that so many are reluctant to address. This is what he has to say:

The purification ritual involving the “Red Heifer” is one that has baffled the wisest of men and the deepest religious thinkers throughout the ages. Somehow, burning a cow, mixing its ashes with water and a few other ingredients and then sprinkling the concoction on an individual who has contracted ritual impurity via contact with a corpse can, following the proper procedure, purify him.

The aspect that has perplexed many, including King Solomon, is the fact that the one who is “sprinkled” becomes pure and the “sprinkler” is rendered impure. Perhaps a more interesting question is this: why does the Torah require a different ritual to cleanse this taint in contrast with the procedure to remove other ritual impurities from an individual (mikveh or mikveh plus korban)? The answer is because this taint involves human death.

When God created the world, for six days He affirms existence by declaring His own work “good.” In so doing, creation “remains in a pure, untouchable beyond” (Rosenzweig, Star of Redemption). The final time that God comments, He does not observe that the result of His handiwork at that moment of time is “good” (tov). Instead, God describes the “all that He made” as “very good” (tov me’od).

The Midrash Rabba, on Genesis 1:31, brings various opinions regarding the statement “very good”: “In the sefer Torah of Rabbi Meir they found, where the words “and behold it was very good” should be, the words “and behold death was good”. Rashi comments on Rabbi Meir’s teaching that death is good because, once dead, man can no longer sin.

Ramban on Genesis 1:31 parses the verse because he finds the word “very” to be superfluous. His initial observation is that God “added this word because He is speaking of creation in general, which contains evil in some part of it.” Thus, He said that it was very good, meaning its me’od is good [thus conveying the thought that even the small part of it which is evil is basically also good]. For Ramban, me’od refers to evil, but he does not yet identify or quantify that evil until he quotes Rabbi Meir’s statement that it is death. However, he qualifies this by commenting:

“[S]imilarly, the Rabbis mentioned, ‘this means the evil inclination in man,’ and ‘this means the dispensation of punishment.’”

Thus, it seems that Ramban, likewise views death as an external environmental force.

Rambam effectively divorces death from the Man-God relationship altogether. In commenting on the words vehinei tov me’od (Look! It was very good), he writes:

“Even death, which appears to constitute a return to nothingness, God considered as something positive, constructive, seeing it is only a prelude to rebirth, albeit sometimes in a different guise than that the previous incarnation. Death is perceived as the result of the ‘nothingness’ which had preceded the universe having become an integral part of this universe. Hence it had become a necessary phenomenon.” (Moreh Nevuchim 3:10).

In other words, God created death so that there could be an ongoing creation. One might perhaps term this as circular reasoning (if God did not terminate the world, there would be no need for a rebirth).  However, this is not circular reasoning; this is God logic – beyond our human comprehension. Regardless, this is universal death and not Man’s or human death. Thus, according to Maimonides, death is likewise a force without a direct relationship with Man. Thus, it is external to Man.

According to Rabbi Dr Norman Lamm, 

“Tov implies efficient functioning.  The creator saw every step in His developing universe ki tov, that it was functioning efficiently, carrying out the telos which He had assigned to it.” (“Good and Very Good’ Moderation and Extremism in the Scheme of Creation” in Tradition, 45:2, 2012).  

According to Lamm, if each component of creation functioned at its maximum efficiency or full potential, chaos would ensue:

 “This is so because the world is an interdependent system rather than a conglomeration of independent parts and a system requires the synergistic coordination of all of its constituent elements.”

Thus, only when each element functions with restraint (tov) can the whole be considered tov me’od.

Lamm explains that an immortal Man, with freedom of will, has the power to exploit any part of creation to its full potential. Death represents a limit and limits are necessary. The analogy he gives is the human body, itself. If cells multiply unchecked, man dies of cancer. Thus, for Lamm, death/mortality is the me’od, the required limit on the effective functioning, the tov, of every other creation. Thus, in this construct death is an integrated component of man and the functioning of the system, but not a part of the God-Man relationship. 

The sources surveyed, from the earliest to the more recent, seem to perceive death as a device or tool used by God, whether to influence later actions (Midrash), or to provide creative or spiritual counter-balance against good (Ramban), or to set up a system of constant creation and recreation (Rambam), or to sustain systemic balance (Lamm). The image that emerges from these Rabbinic sources of the initial conceptualization of death/mortality in Creation, is that of an instrument or process, something detached from Man, one that influences his environment/world, but that impacts him indirectly.

The impure man, tainted by contact with death, is purified by a bare and minimal contact with an external agent – the ashes of the Red Heifer – bound together with “mayim chayim” waters of life. Death influences him, it taints him by contact, and it will eventually claim him. However, the intrinsic message of this elaborate ritual, that stretches over a week, is that he should NOT be consumed by it – he should not become fully submerged in his own mortality.