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A Kabbalist Student Accused His Teacher of Teaching Two Gods

In The Wars of God, a student accused his kabbalist teacher of describing the divine emanations in language that sounded like separate gods.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Letter That Was Actually an Accusation
  2. Hillel and the Charge of Belittling the Sages
  3. The Teacher's Defense
  4. The Rainbow and the Presence

The Letter That Was Actually an Accusation

The student opened by saying his soul yearned for profound words, burning from the lofty heavens, that he was parched and needed to be quenched. It sounds like devotion. It was the opening move in an ambush.

The exchange is preserved in The Wars of God, a medieval kabbalistic work whose very title signals that the arguments inside are not gentle. The student had studied Kabbalah with a teacher, and he had arrived at a conclusion that alarmed him: his teacher, in describing the divine emanations, had spoken in terms that sounded like separate powers. Ten sefirot. Ten distinct attributes. Ten faces of the infinite. The student heard in that language something very close to ten gods.

Hillel and the Charge of Belittling the Sages

He said so directly. He accused the teacher of being harsh, of failing to follow the gentle path. He invoked Hillel, the first-century sage, and his most famous teaching: what is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. The student was arguing that the teacher's Kabbalistic language was hateful to the Jewish understanding of divine unity, and the teacher should therefore stop using it.

He also accused the teacher of belittling the sages of Israel. Not a minor charge. In a tradition where the authority of the rabbis is foundational, claiming that a teacher's words undermine the sages is claiming that the teacher has stepped outside the bounds of legitimate Jewish thought.

The Teacher's Defense

The teacher did not back down. He denied any intention to belittle the sages or to introduce foreign theology into the tradition. He pointed to endemic debate and even mockery as features of Jewish learning, citing Rabbi Abahu, a third-century Caesarean amora known for sharp exchange. He was not alone in using difficult language about divine structure. The entire Kabbalistic tradition had been using it for centuries.

The defense rests on a distinction the Kabbalistic tradition had been working out since Sefer Yetzirah, probably composed between the third and sixth centuries CE, first described the ten sefirot. The sefirot are not gods. They are not beings with independent will. They are the ten primary modes by which the infinite becomes knowable, ten facets of one light, each coloring the same light differently. Keter, Hokhmah, Binah, down through Yesod to Malkhut: the names are not names of ten different beings but descriptions of ten different aspects of one divine reality.

The Rainbow and the Presence

The Kabbalistic sources assembled in the student's dispute include the tradition of the rainbow of the Shekhinah. The rainbow set in the clouds after the flood (Genesis 9:13) has a heavenly counterpart in mystical thought, an arch of the Shekhinah's light above the highest heaven. Ezekiel's vision describes it precisely: like the appearance of the bow which shines in the clouds on a day of rain, such was the appearance of the surrounding radiance (Ezekiel 1:28). The rainbow is not a separate god. It is a feature of the divine presence, a spectrum of one light.

The thirty-two paths of wisdom, developed from Sefer Yetzirah's combination of the ten sefirot and the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet, are the structural grammar of creation. The letters are not independent powers. The sefirot are not independent powers. They are the ways in which one will builds a world that creatures can inhabit and understand.

KabbalahSefirotMysticismMonotheism
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From the tradition

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

The Wars of God 2:8The Wars of God

The plea is intense: "My soul yearns to hear profound words, tightly sealed, burning from the lofty heavens. quench my thirst like a parched land." This isn't just casual curiosity; it's a desperate search for truth.

Then, a twist! The teacher responds, and the student.pushes back. He accuses the teacher of being harsh, of not following the gentle path of the Torah. He even throws shade, comparing the teacher's words to "discipline and a scorching flame."

The student invokes Hillel, a towering figure of Jewish tradition, quoting his famous dictum: "What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow." He accuses the teacher of "belittling the sages of Israel." Strong words indeed!

So, what's going on here? Why this fiery debate?

The teacher, understandably, defends himself. He denies any intention of belittling anyone, "even a gentile, let alone Israel!" He points out that questioning and debate are actually integral to Jewish learning. The Talmud itself is full of arguments, with sages raising objections and contradicting each other. He even brings up an example of Rabbi Abahu, who mocked a common practice. It's all about seeking deeper understanding. But here's the kicker: The core of the disagreement seems to revolve around the mystical teachings of Kabbalah. Specifically, the student is accusing the teacher of calling certain personifications "deities." The teacher's response? "Haven't the Kabbalists themselves said so?"

He then explores the complex world of Sefirot (divine emanations) and the various realms described in Kabbalistic texts. The Zohar, the foundational text of Kabbalah, even asks, "Who is the God who did so and so?" He explains that Kabbalists speak of countless worlds, each with its own intricate structure, but they only delve deeply into the world of Atzilut (the World of Emanation) because it is more revealed.

He emphasizes that when Kabbalists use terms like "our God and the God of our ancestors" in prayer, they're referring to specific, known measures within these divine realms. He mentions Arikh Anpin, Abba, Ima, Zeir Anpin, and Nukva – complex personifications within the Kabbalistic framework.

The teacher is saying: "I'm not inventing anything! These concepts are already present in Kabbalistic teachings. If you have a problem, take it up with the Kabbalists themselves!"

So, what are we to make of this exchange? It highlights the tension that can arise when confronting complex, mystical ideas. It's a reminder that even within a tradition that values learning and debate, there can be disagreements about interpretation and emphasis. It also displays the profound depth and complexity of Kabbalah, a tradition that invites us to explore the hidden dimensions of reality and the nature of the Divine. Perhaps, most importantly, it reminds us that the pursuit of truth is rarely a smooth, comfortable journey, and it may even involve a little scorching flame.

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Sefer Yetzirah 1:4-6Sefer Yetzirah

Ten Sefirot of nothingness: ten and not nine, ten and not eleven. Understand with wisdom, and be wise with understanding. Examine with them and probe from them, and set the matter in its clarity, and restore the Former to His place.

Ten Sefirot of nothingness: their measure is ten, for they have no end. A depth of beginning and a depth of end; a depth of good and a depth of evil; a depth of height and a depth of below; a depth of east and a depth of west; a depth of north and a depth of south. The one Lord, God the faithful King, rules over them all from His holy dwelling place and unto everlasting eternity.

Ten Sefirot of nothingness: their appearance is like the sight of lightning, and their goal has no limit. His word is in them as they run forth and return, and at His command they pursue like a whirlwind, and before His throne they bow down.

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Sefer Yetzirah 1:1-2Sefer Yetzirah

With thirty-two wondrous paths of wisdom did Yah, the LORD of Hosts, the God of Israel, the living God and King of the world, El Shaddai, merciful and gracious, high and exalted, dwelling forever, and holy is His name, engrave; and He created His world with three sefarim: with sefer, and sefar, and sippur.

Ten sefirot of nothingness, and twenty-two letters of foundation: three mothers, and seven doubles, and twelve simples.

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3 Enoch 22:5, 22C:4, 22C:73 Enoch

What we see here is just a reflection of something far grander: the rainbow of the Shekhinah (the Divine Presence).

The Shekhinah, often translated as "Divine Presence," is the aspect of God that dwells among us, that's closest to creation. And the rainbow? (Genesis 9:13) tells us, "I have set My bow in the clouds." It's God's promise, a reminder of the covenant never to destroy the world by flood again.

The mystics take it even further. This earthly rainbow, they say, has a heavenly counterpart. A rainbow of the Shekhinah that arches above Aravot, the highest heaven. Can you picture it?

It doesn't stop there. Think about Ezekiel's famous vision (Ezekiel 1:28): "Like the appearance of the bow which shines in the clouds on a day of rain, such was the appearance of the surrounding radiance." That radiance, that celestial light, is intimately tied to the Merkavah, the Divine Chariot. We find that the clouds of the rainbow surround the very Throne of Glory itself! Above the arches of the rainbow, are the wheels of the Merkavah, known as the wheels of the Ophanim.

Now, here's where it gets really interesting. The rainbow itself, this incredible arc of divine light, rests upon the shoulders of an angel: Kerubiel, the Prince of the Cherubim.

Imagine this being. As we learn, for instance, in 3 Enoch, he's described in almost the same fiery terms as Metatron, another powerful angel. Kerubiel’s mouth is like a lamp of fire, his tongue a consuming fire, eyebrows like lightning, and eyes like sparks of brilliance. On his head sits a crown of holiness, engraved with God's Name. And between his shoulders? The rainbow of the Shekhinah. And the splendor of the Shekhinah shines on his face.

It's a powerful image, isn't it? This gigantic angel, holding the rainbow. The Zohar, that foundational text of Kabbalah, doesn't shy away from these kinds of vivid descriptions.

Why an angel holding the rainbow? Some say Kerubiel represents the sun.: rainbows often appear after the rain, when the sun breaks through the clouds. The rainbow resting on the angel's shoulders becomes a potent symbol of renewal and hope.

As Ginzberg retells it in Legends of the Jews and as we find in Midrash Rabbah, these images aren't just pretty stories. They’re attempts to grasp the ungraspable, to understand the Divine in ways that resonate with our human experience. They link the earthly and the heavenly, reminding us that even in the darkest of times, the light of the Shekhinah, the promise of the rainbow, is always there.

So, next time you see a rainbow, remember Kerubiel, the Prince of the Cherubim, and the rainbow of the Shekhinah. Remember the promise, the connection, and the ever-present Divine light shining through. What does the rainbow symbolize for you?

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