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Hezekiah Would Have Broken the Zohar Open

Moses raised a bronze serpent so the bitten would live. Later they burned incense to the metal. A king smashed it with a hammer.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Bitten Looked and Lived
  2. Hezekiah Took a Hammer to the Metal
  3. The Sage Said the Book Was Not Good
  4. A Student Chanted Secrets Like Jewelry
  5. The Pole Stood Empty

The bites were real. Serpents struck in the sand, and people fell. Moses set a bronze serpent on a pole, and the wounded who looked lived (Numbers 21:8-9). The metal was a tool under command, not a god. For a while the distinction held.

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The Bitten Looked and Lived

Eyes went up. Pain eased. The camp learned a habit: look at the bronze and live. Children grew up with that pole in the middle of the story of their healing. The distinction between looking through and looking at is thin. Thin things wear out.

Centuries later the same object had gathered incense. Hands that should have looked through it began to look at it. Healing had curdled into worship.

Hezekiah Took a Hammer to the Metal

King Hezekiah smashed the bronze serpent to pieces because the tool had stolen the gaze (2 Kings 18:4). He raised the hammer. He broke the metal. He left the pole empty. People had to seek healing without a prop. The loss was also a purge.

He did not deny that Moses had made it on command. He denied the incense. Destroy the misuse even if the original making was holy. That is a hard kind of loyalty. It looks like vandalism to anyone still kneeling at the pole.

The Sage Said the Book Was Not Good

A later sage stood over the Zohar with that hammer in his mind. He did not deny the book's heat. He feared the incense. Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai's work was meant to turn minds toward God. Tools that work too well attract the wrong kind of love.

"It is not good," he said, and the room went cold. He compared the Zohar to the bronze serpent: holy in intent, dangerous when the eye stops at the surface. If Hezekiah had found this book gathering incense, he would have broken it open the way he broke the serpent.

The sage did not call for a bonfire of every page. He called for nerves of steel in readers who confuse the map with the King. He also refused to let the book go. He called it flowing living water, a treasury, a foundation in the hand. He held both claims in one mouth: bow to the light, watch the hands that hold it.

A Student Chanted Secrets Like Jewelry

Against pure fear stands another claim. Engaging the Zohar and the wisdom of Kabbalah can hasten the end of exile. Tikkunei Zohar speaks of study as a force that completes what politics cannot. The book is not only a risk. It is a lever.

A young mystic once wore secrets like jewelry. He quoted chambers and crowns at people who had asked for bread. An older teacher sent him to reread the bronze serpent story until the heat left his voice. When he returned, he spoke less and repaired more. The book on the table had not changed. The incense under it had gone out.

A person who chants mysteries for status has already lit incense under the wrong pole. A person who sweats through the text to repair midot (מידות), character measures, is looking through the metal toward the One who heals.

Baal HaSulam described a point inside the self like an animal of holiness: raw, individual, hungry for its own receiving. Left wild, it turns every light into private fuel. Purified, it becomes capable of receiving in order to give. That purification is why the book exists at risk. Without inner work the serpent always wins.

The student sits at night with a difficult page. Ego wants brilliance. The animal wants more light for itself. The text keeps demanding similarity of form with the giving side of God. The demand is uncomfortable on purpose. Hezekiah's hammer and the student's eraser are cousins. One breaks an object that stole worship. One breaks a habit that steals worship inside the chest.

The Pole Stood Empty

When Hezekiah finished, the pole no longer held a god. When a reader finishes a Zohar passage without turning the author into an idol, something similar happens. The page closes. God remains.

Exile still runs its long clock. Study still claims it can shorten the night. Caution still claims the night gets longer when tools become masters. Hold both claims. Let neither harden into a slogan that excuses laziness or frenzy.

The desert bites healed when eyes obeyed. The kingdom cleaned house when a king refused incense on a relic. The book on the table waits for a third obedience: read, repair, and refuse to worship the ink. Then the page can burn without burning the house. The pole stands empty. The Name is not trapped in a shiny intermediate.

ZoharKabbalahHezekiahIdolatryStudy
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From the tradition

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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Mitpachat Sefarim 1:12Mitpachat Sefarim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Sefaria Community Translation · CC-BY

That’s where

The text And it dives headfirst into a debate about none other than the Zohar, the foundational text of Jewish mysticism, or Kabbalah.

The Zohar is usually held in incredibly high esteem. It's considered by many to be a divinely inspired work, a profound exploration of the hidden dimensions of the Torah. But this author? He's got some serious reservations.

He starts by saying, bluntly, that the Zohar "is not good." Strong words. He even compares it to the “serpent of bronze” made by Moses. Remember that story? In the desert, Moses created a bronze serpent to heal the Israelites from snakebites. But here's the kicker: later, people started worshipping the serpent itself, turning a symbol of healing into an idol.

That's the author's concern with the Zohar. He says that Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, who tradition says authored the Zohar, intended it to help people focus on God. But, he fears, it could lead people astray, just like the bronze serpent. He even invokes King Hezekiah, who, seeing that people were worshipping the serpent, destroyed it! A radical act, intended to "fulfill the will of God."

So, is the author calling for the destruction of the Zohar? Not exactly. He acknowledges the holiness of the book and its author. Even though the author sees potential for harm, he also recognizes the good it can do.

He writes that "it appears in practice that we hold in our hands the foundations of our holy Torah" and that the Zohar "has wonderfully revealed profound wisdom" and "greatly increased its splendor." It’s a source of "flowing living water," he says, and a "treasury to safeguard. precious treasure."

So, what’s going on here? How can he hold such seemingly contradictory views?

Well, the author seems to be walking a tightrope. He recognizes the potential for misinterpretation, for the Zohar to become an end in itself rather than a means to connect with God. He's worried about "things hidden within it that were not revealed to our ancestors, and additions that are forged."

But he also deeply values the wisdom and insight it offers.

He embraces the Zohar, saying, "I have embraced it and will not let it go." He sees its importance in understanding even the most minute details of rabbinic law. He considers it more stringent, in many ways, than even the Talmud, "the desire of Israel."

It’s a fascinating example of wrestling with tradition. This author isn't blindly accepting or rejecting the Zohar. He's engaging with it critically, acknowledging both its power and its potential pitfalls.

What does this tell us? Perhaps that even the most sacred texts require careful consideration, a willingness to question, and a commitment to using them as a tool for genuine spiritual growth, rather than letting them become idols themselves. It’s a reminder that our relationship with sacred texts should be dynamic, thoughtful, and always directed towards the ultimate Source. What do you think?

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Baal HaSulam's Introduction to Zohar 69:1Baal HaSulam's Introduction to Zohar

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Sefaria-hosted English translation · CC-BY

Yet, that’s precisely what the Zohar, the foundational text of Kabbalah, suggests. Specifically, there's a powerful statement in Tikkunei (spiritual repair) Zohar (at the end of Tikkun 6) that says engaging with the Zohar and the wisdom of Kabbalah can actually bring about the end of exile and complete redemption.

How can studying a book have such a monumental impact? It's a fair question. Why would poring over ancient Aramaic texts change the fate of the Jewish people, let alone the world?

Baal HaSulam, in his introduction to the Zohar, offers a profound insight. He explains that just as the world has both an internal and external dimension, so too does the Torah. Think of it like this: the Torah isn't just a set of laws and stories; it also contains a deep, hidden wisdom – its pnimiyut, its inner essence. And just as there are those who engage with the surface, the chitzoniyut, there are those who delve deeper.

In Baal HaSulam, the more we dedicate ourselves to understanding the internal aspects of the Torah, its secrets and deeper meanings, the more the “internal” aspect of the world – which is Israel – rises above the "external" elements, the nations of the world.

It's not about domination, but about recognition. The idea is that through this inner work, the other nations will come to recognize the greatness and unique role of Israel. They will see the light emanating from the Jewish people’s connection to the divine. This, in turn, will lead to the fulfillment of prophetic verses like (Isaiah 14:2): "They will take of those peoples and bring them into their place, and the House of Israel will possess them on the Lord’s own land, slaves and bondswomen. They will be captors to their captors and rule over those who oppressed them.” A powerful image of reversal and restoration.

And again in (Isaiah 49:22), "So says the Lord God: Behold, I shall raise My hands to nations, lift My banner toward peoples; they will bring your sons back in the folds of their robes, bearing your daughters upon their shoulders.” It speaks of a time when the nations themselves will assist in the return of the Jewish people, carrying them back to their homeland.

So, it's not just about studying. It's about the intention behind the study. It's about seeking the deeper truths, the hidden wisdom that can elevate not only ourselves but also our relationship with the world around us.

The Zohar isn't just an ancient text; it's a potential catalyst for change, a roadmap for a more harmonious future. Perhaps, then, the question isn't how can studying the Zohar bring redemption, but are we ready to engage with its wisdom and bring that potential into reality?

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Baal HaSulam's Introduction to Zohar 48:2Baal HaSulam's Introduction to Zohar

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Sefaria-hosted English translation · CC-BY

The great Kabbalist Baal HaSulam, in his introduction to the Zohar, illuminates a concept that might just change how you see yourself. He describes a point within us, a kind of… well, almost an "animal" of holiness. Now, "animal" might sound strange, but in this context, it refers to the untamed, individualistic aspects within us that need to be refined and purified.

This "animal" of holiness, Baal HaSulam explains, focuses on purifying the "animal" aspects within our bodies. It's a process of taming the inner beast, so to speak. And the light associated with this process? It's fascinating.

It’s similar to what we discussed earlier (chapter 37) regarding the more material, physical aspects of the "animal" within us. This light grants individual feeling to each of the 613 limbs of the Partzuf (a divine configuration). Now, Partzuf (פַּרְצוּף) is a Kabbalistic term that can refer to a spiritual configuration or "face" of God, or even a complete spiritual entity. In this case,

Each limb, each aspect of ourselves, feels independent, lives freely, without depending on the whole. Your 613 limbs (which, symbolically, represent all the different aspects of your being) becoming 613 distinct, enlightened Partzufim (the divine configurations). Each one shining, feeling, and acting independently. It’s a powerful image of the potential for individual expression within the larger framework of our being.

Baal HaSulam goes on to say that this light even ascends above the light of the spiritual Ruach (רוּחַ), which is often translated as "spirit" or "wind." It's a level of energy that surpasses even our spiritual aspirations, much like the physical difference between a living animal and an inanimate object or plant.

Then, something even more profound happens. A point emerges from the light of the sacred Chaya (חַיָּה) – the light of the Sefira of Chochma (חָכְמָה), which is often translated as "wisdom." This point emerges along with the Partzuf of Neshama (נְשָׁמָה), the soul, and becomes enclosed within it. In other words, this wild, independent energy is ultimately integrated and refined within the soul itself.

So, what does this all mean for us? It suggests that our inner conflicts, those times when we feel pulled in different directions, are not necessarily a bad thing. They represent the raw material, the untamed energy, that can be refined and integrated into our soul. It’s a process of acknowledging and purifying the “animal” within, allowing each aspect of ourselves to shine, while ultimately unifying them within the greater whole of our being. Perhaps, then, the key is not to suppress these individual voices, but to listen to them, understand them, and ultimately, integrate them into a harmonious whole.

What "animal" aspects within you are waiting to be discovered and integrated? What could you become if you embraced the untamed energy within and allowed it to be illuminated by the light of wisdom?

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