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The Sea Monster Who Holds Up the Middle of the World

The rabbis feared Leviathan. Its scales flash like fire and the ocean boils in its wake. The Tikkunei Zohar called it the righteous pillar.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Thing God Made on the Fifth Day
  2. The Monster Is the Spine of Reality
  3. Why a Sea Creature Holds This Position
  4. A Rabbi Sees Its Eye at Sea

The Thing God Made on the Fifth Day

Leviathan was made on the fifth day of creation, before human beings, before the completion of the world. God made it and its mate, the tradition says, and then killed the female and salted her away for the feast of the righteous at the end of days, because two Leviathans loose in the ocean would tear the world apart. Even one Leviathan is almost too much. Midrash Rabbah spent considerable effort simply cataloguing its magnitude: its scales flash like fire, its breath sets coals burning, smoke pours from its nostrils. The ocean itself boils in the wake of its passage. Job was asked: can you draw out Leviathan with a fishhook? Can you put a rope through its nose? The answer is clearly no. The question is rhetorical, God using the monster as evidence of the unbridgeable gap between divine power and human capacity.

For most of the tradition, Leviathan is the nightmare at the bottom of the ocean: the chaos that exists at the margin of the ordered world, kept there by divine power, not quite fully subdued. Then the Kabbalists took the same creature and turned it completely inside out.

The Monster Is the Spine of Reality

The Tikkunei Zohar, composed in thirteenth-century Castile and first appearing around 1290 CE, makes a claim in its eighty-sixth section that inverts everything. The Leviathan, it says, is the tzaddik. Not just any righteous person. The cosmic Tzaddik, the Middle Pillar, the central axis of the divine structure through which all blessing flows downward from the infinite into the world. The monster is the spine of reality.

Two images stand together here. The Kabbalistic Tree of Life organizes ten divine emanations, sefirot, into a structure that resembles a body. The Middle Pillar runs straight through the center: Keter at the crown, Tiferet at the heart, Yesod at the foundation, Malkhut at the base. This pillar is the channel of balance. On its left runs the side of strict judgment, Gevurah. On its right runs the side of loving outflow, Chesed. The Middle Pillar is where these opposing forces stop fighting and flow together in a single unified channel.

Why a Sea Creature Holds This Position

The ocean in Kabbalistic thought is a specific domain. Water flows downward. It fills whatever shape contains it. It moves without force, finding every crack and hollow. The sefirah of Yesod, the Foundation, which is the specific sefirah the tzaddik most directly embodies, is the channel through which the upper flows pour into the lower world. It is, in the language of the tradition, the place where the waters above and the waters below meet and move together.

Leviathan lives in this domain. Not on the surface of the water but at its depths, at the bottom where the pressure is greatest and the darkness is complete. For the Tikkunei Zohar, its position at the bottom of the ocean is its position at the foundation of the divine structure: holding the center, maintaining the axis, preventing the left side from overwhelming the right and the right from dissolving into formlessness. The chaos creature and the righteous axis are, in this reading, the same thing viewed from different angles. What looks like chaos from above is order at a scale that exceeds ordinary perception.

A Rabbi Sees Its Eye at Sea

The legend preserves an encounter: a rabbi sailing at sea, the ship at the mercy of deep water, and then a single eye rising from below the surface, large enough that the rabbi nearly did not survive the sight of it. Leviathan looked at him from below. The size of the eye, the unbearable proximity to the thing that should only be encountered at the end of days, at the feast for the righteous, when it is already dressed and salted and prepared for the table. The rabbi survived. But the moment preserved something: the living creature exists, and when it opens its eye in the depths, the distance between the upper and lower worlds collapses into a single, terrible point of contact.

The Jordan parted for Joshua the way the Red Sea parted for Moses. The Tikkunei Zohar connects both crossings to Leviathan, to the Middle Pillar that holds the waters apart long enough for the people to cross. Every miracle of water separation is the Tzaddik doing what the Tzaddik does: holding the center open, making passage possible, maintaining the axis around which the two sides of creation turn without destroying each other.

LeviathanKabbalahTzaddikSefirotCreation
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From the tradition

Sources

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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.

Tikkunei Zohar 86:11Tikkunei Zohar

A fascinating, if somewhat cryptic, passage from Tikkunei (spiritual repair) Zohar 86, a section known for its intense symbolism.

It begins with the Leviathan. That legendary sea serpent, that behemoth of the deep. But here, the Leviathan isn’t just a monster. The Tikkunei Zohar equates it with the Tzaddik – the Righteous One. And not just any righteous person, but the "head," the Middle Pillar. What does that even mean?

In Kabbalah, the Sefirot, the ten emanations of God, are often depicted as a tree. The Middle Pillar is the central axis of that tree, representing balance and harmony. So, the Leviathan, in its immense power and scope, embodies this very principle.

The text gets even more interesting. It says the Leviathan's head reaches to the seventh sea, which is the head of them all. And its fins and scales extend across four seas, defining their dimensions. It’s imagery that speaks to the all-encompassing nature of this being. Think of it as the blueprint for reality itself, extending into every corner of existence.

Then, there's the tail of the snake. This also reaches to the final, seventh sea. This sea encompasses all seven, about which it is stated, "Seven times in the day I have praised you" (Ps. 119:164). What's so special about seven? Seven often signifies completeness, perfection. So, the snake's tail reaching this seventh sea suggests a cycle, a completion of something vital. The end touching the beginning, perhaps?

Rabbi Shim’on, a central figure in the Zohar, then adds another layer to this already rich tradition. He says, "My son, behold, 'masters of defensive shields' are descending from above, dressed in armor, their bows are bows of fire, and their spears are of fire, and their swords are of flame.”

Who are these fiery warriors? Are they angels? Aspects of God? Forces of protection?

It’s easy to get lost in the imagery. The Leviathan, the seven seas, the fiery warriors… it's a lot to take in! But I think the key is to remember that these aren't meant to be taken literally. They are symbols, metaphors for deeper truths about the nature of reality, the divine, and our own place within it all.

The Zohar isn't trying to give us a zoological lesson on sea monsters. It's trying to awaken something within us. To show us that there's more to the world than meets the eye. That there are forces at play, both benevolent and…well, perhaps less so, that we need to be aware of. And that, ultimately, there is a balance to be found, a "Middle Pillar" to strive towards, even in the face of chaos and uncertainty. So, the next time you’re at the ocean, remember the Leviathan. Remember the hidden depths. And remember the potential for both immense power and profound balance within yourself.

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Vayikra Rabbah 13:3Vayikra Rabbah

As Rav teaches us, the mitzvot (commandments) were given to Israel to refine us, to elevate us. Why? "He is a shield for all who rely on Him" (Proverbs 30:5). Because God protects those who rely on Him, He gave Israel mitzvot in order to refine them and make them fit for the World to Come. It’s about becoming our best selves, prepared for something truly amazing.

Speaking of the World to Come…get this.

Rabbi Yudan ben Rabbi Shimon paints a vivid picture. He says that the Behemoth and the Leviathan, these mythical beasts of immense power, will engage in an epic battle before the righteous in the future! Can you imagine? It's like the ultimate showdown! And anyone who didn't go to the really horrible ancient Roman animal fights in this world (and let's be honest, who wants to see that kind of cruelty?) will merit seeing this one in the World to Come.

So, how does this cosmic clash go down? Well, the Behemoth will supposedly stab the Leviathan with its horns, tearing it open. And the Leviathan? It'll smash the Behemoth with its fins and stab it to death. It's… intense.

But wait a minute. Here's where it gets even more interesting. The Sages ask a crucial question: is this even kosher? Is this a valid ritual slaughter, a proper shechita? I mean, we learn in the Mishna Ḥullin (1:2) that there are specific rules about slaughtering animals. You can’t use just anything. No serrated sickles, no saws, no animal teeth, no fingernails – because those methods strangle the animal, causing undue suffering.

So, how can this celestial battle result in kosher meat?

Rabbi Avin bar Kahana offers a stunning answer. The Holy One, blessed be He, says: "For [a new] Torah will emerge from Me" (Isaiah 51:4). A novel Torah ruling, a new law, will emerge from Me! The conventional laws regarding ritual slaughter will be temporarily suspended.! Even the rules we hold so dear can be superseded by God's will in the ultimate future.

Rabbi Berekhya, citing Rabbi Yitzḥak, takes it a step further. The Holy One, blessed be He, is destined to make a feast for His righteous servants in the future. And here's the kicker: anyone who didn't partake of unslaughtered carcasses – meaning animals that died in any way other than ritual slaughter, which are forbidden to us – in this world will be privileged to partake in it in the World to Come!

It all comes back to our choices here and now.

That’s what's hinted at in (Leviticus 7:24): "And the fat of an unslaughtered carcass and the fat of a mauled animal may be used for all labor; but you shall not eat it [ve’akhol lo tokheluhu]." The doubling of the word "eat" – lo tokheluhu – is significant. As the commentary Matnot Kehuna explains, in order to eat of the feast in the World to Come, one must refrain from eating forbidden foods in this world. That's why Moses cautions Israel: "These are the living beings that you may eat" (Leviticus 11:2). It’s a preparation, a training, for the ultimate reward.

So, what does it all mean? It means that the mitzvot, the challenges, the restrictions, they aren't just arbitrary rules. They're shaping us. They're preparing us for a future beyond our wildest imaginations, a future where even the laws of nature, the laws of kashrut, can be transformed. It's a future worth striving for, a future that begins with the choices we make today. What will you choose?

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Legends of the Jews 1:7Legends of the Jews

It wasn't exactly smooth sailing, let me tell you. According to Legends of the Jews, the moment was ripe with miracles, all designed to solidify Joshua's authority in the eyes of the people. after the debacle with the spies, Joshua needed a win, something big to demonstrate that God was truly with him. What better way than parting a river?

As the priests – who, in this critical moment, took over from the Levites as carriers of the Ark of the Covenant – stepped into the Jordan, something incredible happened. The waters, Can you A wall of water, a evidence of divine power. According to the legends, the whole world witnessed this miracle.

Joshua gathers the people around the Ark in the now-dry riverbed. A divine miracle allowed the tiny space between the staves (the poles used to carry the Ark) to accommodate the entire Israelite nation. A bit like a real-life TARDIS, wouldn't you say?

Then, Joshua lays down the terms. He proclaims the conditions under which God will grant them Palestine, a conditional promise. As we find in Legends of the Jews, Joshua added a stark warning: reject these conditions, and the piled-up waters would come crashing down on them.

They accept, and the march begins.

But the miracles weren't over. After the people reached the other side, the Ark, which had remained in the riverbed the whole time, moved of its own accord. Legends of the Jews recounts it pulled the priests along with it, overtaking the people and rejoining the procession. A powerful image, isn't it? The Ark of the Covenant, leading the way, a constant reminder of God's presence and promise.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What does it mean to truly accept the conditions laid out before us? And what role does belief play in shaping our own journeys, both literal and metaphorical, across the rivers of our lives?

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Gaster, Exempla of the Rabbis No. 267 (1924); Bava Batra 74bThe Exempla of the Rabbis (1924)

Rabbi Elazar and Rabbi Yehoshua, two of the sages who witnessed the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE and helped to rebuild Jewish life in the generation that followed, were once traveling together on a ship. The Mediterranean in the first century was a crossroads of the ancient world, and Rabbis often moved by sea between the Land of Israel and the Jewish communities of Egypt, Asia Minor, and Italy.

During the voyage, at a moment when the ship was gliding quietly through dark water, Rabbi Yehoshua was suddenly startled by a great light. It flashed from beneath the surface, a luminous blaze that seemed to come from something vast and alive. The veteran sage, who had seen Roman legions and wartime fires, was shaken. Rabbi Elazar, calmer, explained what it was. They were passing, he said, over the eyes of the Leviathan, the great sea-creature spoken of in Job 41 and (Isaiah 27:1).

The Talmud in Bava Batra 74b and the midrashic tradition describe Leviathan as a primordial being created by the Holy One on the fifth day of creation, a creature so enormous that the world's oceans are barely its bathtub. Its scales shine, its breath is steam, and one day, in the messianic era, the flesh of Leviathan will feed the righteous at the great banquet of the World to Come. Meanwhile it swims quietly in the deeps, mostly unseen by human eyes except for rare flashes when its gaze catches the light of the upper world.

This short exemplum, preserved as number 267 in Moses Gaster's 1924 Exempla of the Rabbis, contains a whole theology in a sentence. The created world is larger than it appears. Beneath every seemingly empty stretch of water, there may be a creature whose very eye is a star. The rabbinic imagination refuses to let the ocean be merely scenery. For Rabbi Yehoshua, startled on that deck, the deep had just introduced itself.

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