Our Gemara on Amud Beis speaks of the Jewish soul’s need for Torah for basic survival:

“And makes people as the fish of the sea, as the creeping things, that have no ruler over them” (Habakkuk 1:14)?

Why are people compared to the fish of the sea?

Just as the fish of the sea die immediately once removed from water, so too, when people separate from Torah and mitzvos, they die immediately.

This is reminiscent of a Gemara in Berachos (61b) recording Rabbi Akiva’s rationale for teaching Torah in violation of a Roman ban, despite mortal risk:

Rabbi Akiva answered him: I will relate a parable… It is like a fox walking along a riverbank who sees fish fleeing from place to place. The fox asks why, and the fish say they are fleeing fishermen’s nets.

The fox proposes they join him on land and live together, just as their ancestors lived together.

The fish reply: “Are you the cleverest of animals? You are a fool! If we are afraid in the water, which gives us life, all the more so on dry land, which causes our death.”

Rabbi Akiva concludes: Now that we sit and study Torah, about which it is written, “For that is your life” (Devarim 30:20), we fear the empire to this extent—if we stop studying, how much more so!

While the story is powerful on its own, I want to focus on one striking line: The fox says to the fish, “As my ancestors lived with your ancestors.” Rabbi Akiva takes it for granted that there was an earlier, perhaps primordial, era in which land and sea creatures shared the same realm.

This idea strikingly echoes evolutionary theory: Life began in water and gradually developed greater complexity, eventually branching onto land. Rabbi Akiva, of course, did not “believe in evolution,” nor did his Hellenistic contemporaries, because the idea did not exist yet. But the ancients were keen observers of nature. Perhaps they encountered fossils of strange creatures or perceived deep patterns in biology. As discussed in a prior post: Separate from the theory of evolution, clearly forms of life follow a pattern of progression from simple to more complex, yet using similar structures from DNA to organs.” Indeed, jellyfish and humans share over 60% of the same DNA; chimpanzees and humans, about 98%. This suggests a lineage, an ontological ladder of living forms. Koheles Rabbah (3:11) alludes to a similar notion of divine process:

“The Holy One, Blessed be He, created worlds and destroyed them, created and destroyed, until He created this one and declared: ‘These please Me.’”

Why does this matter? Isn’t the miracle of creation equally astounding whether it took a moment or a millennium? Perhaps. Yet even Chazal had some sense of the developmental structure of creation. The Mishnah in Avos (5:1) notes that God created the world with ten utterances and asks: Why not just one?

To understand God in a mature, philosophical way—not just as a cosmic candy-giver or punisher—we must examine the process itself. There’s a concept called Entelechy: the internal force that guides something toward its telos, its destined form. This idea reflects a deeper understanding of Divine providence as not just commanding outcomes but shaping the unfolding development of reality because of the pure truth of it that resides within God.

Everything, from quarks to consciousness,  emanates from Divine will and intellect. Just as a child matures through stages, so too the world evolves spiritually and intellectually toward greater awareness of God. In a Maimonidean sense, greater intellect means not just knowledge but the refinement of character and emotional balance (middos).

The Moreh Nevuchim (I:72) articulates this idea beautifully:

“You must consider the entire globe as one individual being endowed with life, motion, and a soul… This view is indispensable for demonstrating the unity of God…”

“In man, there is a force which unites and sustains the body. The universe likewise possesses a force which unites its parts, protects species, and maintains balance… But while man’s soul is immanent, God is separate and transcendent.”

“God’s rule and providence can be demonstrated in every part of creation, even the smallest. Praised be He, whose perfection is above our comprehension.”

The Rambam envisions a living cosmos whose unity is a reflection of its Creator’s Oneness. The soul is to the body as God is to the cosmos. And in that sense, the whole of existence is a process.