The Torah tells us at the end of Parshas Bereishis that G-d reconsidered His decision to create man and “grieved in His heart.”

The Rambam and other medieval philosophers stress that G-d does not really grieve, change His mind, grow angry, or have other human emotions. But if that’s true, why does the Torah constantly ascribe such feelings to G-d?

Because, writes Rav Hirsch, “losing all idea of the personality of G-d” is a greater danger than having “the slightest thought of any materiality or corporeality of G-d.”

The Torah wants us to think that our actions can, in fact, cause G-d to grieve or grow angry (or rejoice, as the case may be). Rav Hirsch continues: “The Raavad already…is of the opinion that such consciousness of the personality of G-d is of much greater importance than speculating about it, as to whether this or that can be asserted of G-d.”

This comment is an interesting interpretation of the Raavad’s famous criticism of the Rambam and also a very insightful remark on the Torah’s purpose. If its purpose were to provide a perfect philosophical conception of G-d, it “could easily have…avoided” such expressions as “G-d grieved,” “G-d smelled,” etc., writes Rav Hirsch.

But that isn’t the Torah’s purpose. Above all, the Torah is a guidebook on how to live a G-dly life. And for 99 percent of us, that means relating to G-d in the very down-to-earth manner in which the Torah presents Him. It isn’t child-like to think of G-d as a king and father whom we can make happy and sad. It’s exactly how G-d wants us to think about Him. How do we know? Because He had Moshe describe him that way in the Torah.