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Moses Wept and the Shekhinah Wept With Him

In the basket on the Nile, the infant Moses was weeping. The Tikkunei Zohar says he felt the Shekhinah in exile beside him.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Basket Opens at the River
  2. The Shekhinah Looks Into the Basket
  3. What a Three-Month-Old Knows About Exile
  4. The Two Shekhinahs and the One Moses

The Basket Opens at the River

The basket had been sealed with pitch and set among the reeds at the edge of the Nile. His mother had made it watertight and let go of it, which was the hardest part. Pharaoh's daughter came down to bathe and saw it. She sent her maidservant to bring it to her, and when she opened it, she saw the child. He was weeping.

Three Hebrew words in Exodus describe the moment: vayifteach vatireh et hayeled vehinei naar bocheh. She opened, she saw the child, and behold, a weeping boy. The text moves on quickly. Pharaoh's daughter takes pity, finds a Hebrew nurse, arranges everything. But the Tikkunei Zohar, the mystical compilation of thirteenth-century Castile, stopped at those three words and refused to let them go. Who is the she who opened? And why is the child weeping?

The Shekhinah Looks Into the Basket

The Tikkunei Zohar's reading of this moment is exact and strange. The she who opened is not only Pharaoh's daughter. It is the Shekhinah, the divine presence, the feminine aspect of God that dwells with Israel wherever Israel dwells. The basket opens to both at once: to the human princess who will raise the boy as her son, and to the divine presence that has been following the people through Egypt and has found them here, in the water, in the pitch-sealed vessel of a condemned child.

And the child is weeping not from hunger or cold or fear. He is weeping because he can feel her. The Shekhinah is in exile. She descended with the family of Jacob when they came down to Egypt, and she has been in exile with them through the generations of slavery, through the brickmaking and the beatings and the drownings of male infants. Moses, at three months old, already knows this. He can feel her condition as if it is his own condition, because it is his own condition. His exile is her exile. His redemption will be her redemption.

What a Three-Month-Old Knows About Exile

The midrashic tradition describes Moses as marked from birth by divine presence. His mother saw that he was tov, good, when he was born, and the rabbis read that word to mean more than beautiful: filled with light, already inhabited by something that exceeded the ordinary. The house filled with light when he was born, according to midrash. The light that his mother perceived was the sign that this child carried the Shekhinah in a particular way from his first breath.

His weeping in the basket is the first act of that particular intimacy. He weeps as a prophet weeps before he knows he is a prophet, in response to something real that others around him do not yet perceive. Pharaoh's daughter sees the weeping and feels compassion. She does not understand its source. But she responds to it correctly, and the Tikkunei Zohar reads her compassion as itself a reflex of the Shekhinah's presence: even a Pharaoh's daughter, standing at the border between Egyptian power and Hebrew suffering, is moved to mercy when she encounters the divine weeping that she cannot name.

The Two Shekhinahs and the One Moses

The Tikkunei Zohar preserves a distinction between two aspects of the Shekhinah: one upper and one lower, one that never descends into the conditions of exile and one that does. The lower Shekhinah, called Malkhut in the structure of the sefirot, is the divine presence that goes with the people into every darkness they enter. She does not stay above in safety while the people suffer below. She goes down with them. She was in Egypt. She is in Babylon. She is wherever the exiles are.

Moses, from the moment of the basket, is bound to this lower Shekhinah in a way the text never fully explains but never stops gesturing toward. His weeping is her weeping. Later, when he descends from Sinai with his face radiating light, that light is hers. When the people sin and God threatens to withdraw, Moses places himself between the divine anger and the people with a ferocity that reads less like diplomacy and more like a man defending something that is part of himself. The Tikkunei Zohar says he found grace in the eyes of all of life, that the natural world responded to his presence as it responds to the presence of the Shekhinah. He carried her. He had been carrying her since the basket.


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From the tradition

Sources

4 sources

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

Tikkunei Zohar 53:14Tikkunei Zohar

Jewish mysticism suggests that sometimes, that feeling isn't just yours alone.

The Tikkunei (spiritual repair) Zohar, a central text of Kabbalah, offers a powerful interpretation of a seemingly simple verse from the Book of Exodus: "and she opened, and she saw the boy..." (Exodus 2:6). But who is seeing? According to the Tikkunei Zohar, this "she" isn't just Pharaoh's daughter discovering the infant Moses in the reeds. Instead, "she saw" represents the Shekhinah, the Divine Presence, the feminine aspect of God manifest in the world. And why was Moses crying? Because of Her, because of the exile and suffering of the Shekhinah herself, as we also find in Shemot Rabbah 1:24. A baby's cry echoing the pain of the Divine. It’s a radical idea, isn't it?

What happens next? "...and she took pity upon him.." Pharaoh's daughter is moved to compassion. This compassion mirrors God's own, a promise of redemption woven into the fabric of suffering. It echoes in the words of Jeremiah (31:8): "With crying they shall come, and with supplications I shall lead them.." leading, ultimately, to the fulfillment of Isaiah's promise (54:7): "...and with great mercies I shall gather you."

The Tikkunei Zohar paints a picture of a universe deeply interconnected, where human emotions resonate with the Divine, and Divine compassion answers human suffering.

But the Tikkunei Zohar doesn't stop there. It offers a vision of future joy, a cosmic celebration. When redemption finally arrives, when the Shekhinah is reunited, the text describes a chorus of celestial beings erupting in song. "At that time," it says, "all the ḥayot, angelic beasts, will be aroused in voice, and birds will chirp in song, to receive the daughter in joy and with music." It will be a wedding, a reunion, the receiving of the qidushin, the rites of sanctification, from the groom.

And what is the song they sing? It's the song of ultimate holiness: "Kadosh, kadosh, kadosh. Holy, holy, holy..." (Isaiah 6:3). The Tikkunei Zohar emphasizes that "there is no sanctity less than ten," alluding to the ten Sefirot, the ten emanations of Divine energy through which God manifests. This implies a complete and total holiness, a unified Divine presence.

So, what does it all mean?

Perhaps it's a reminder that even in our darkest moments, we are connected to something larger than ourselves. That our suffering is not unseen, unheard. That compassion, both human and Divine, holds the power to transform sorrow into joy, exile into redemption. And that one day, the universe itself will celebrate that reunion with a song of unimaginable beauty.

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Ben Sira 45:1Ben Sira

Our verse is simple, yet powerful: "And he brought from him a man, finding grace in the eyes of all life. Beloved by God and man, Moshe, remembered for good."

First, "He brought from him a man." Who's the "He" here? That's God, of course. God singled out a man. This wasn’t just any person. This was someone chosen, someone special.

What made him special? He "found grace in the eyes of all life." Not just some people liking you, but everyone. Every living thing, it seems, recognized something extraordinary in him. It speaks to a profound connection with creation itself.

The real kicker? "Beloved by God and man." To be loved by God… well, that's the ultimate validation, isn't it? And to be loved by humanity? That's a rare and precious gift. The verse doesn’t say “respected” or “feared,” but beloved. This suggests a deep affection, a genuine connection that transcended mere leadership.

Moshe, more than just a lawgiver, was someone people loved.

And finally, he is "remembered for good." His legacy isn't just one of historical importance, but of positive impact. Even now, millennia later, we remember Moshe and the good he brought into the world. He is not only remembered, but remembered for good. That's quite an epitaph, isn't it?

What does this verse tell us, really? It's not just about Moshe, is it? It's about the potential that lies within each of us to find grace, to connect with others, and to leave a positive mark on the world. It reminds us that true greatness isn't just about power or authority, but about love – both divine and human. And, ultimately, about being remembered for the good we do.

So, maybe the real question isn't whether we can be Moshe, but whether we can learn from his example. Can we strive to be people who are beloved, who find grace, and who are remembered for good?

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Sefer ha-Bahir 63Sefer HaBahir

And what is His heart? He said to him: If so, Ben Zoma is on the outside, and you are with him. "Heart" [lev] is thirty-two, and they were hidden, and with them the world was created. What is the thirty-two? He said to him: thirty-two paths. A parable: like a king who was in the innermost chambers, and the number of the chambers was thirty-two, and for each chamber there is a path. Is it fitting for this king that everyone enter his chamber by way of his paths? You said no. Is it fitting for him to reveal his pearls and his settings and his hidden things and his treasures and his precious things? You said no. What did he do? He touched the daughter and included in her all the paths and in her garment, and whoever wishes to enter within, let him look here. And he married her to the king, and also gave her to him as a gift. Sometimes, in his love for her, he calls her "my sister," because they were from one place; and sometimes he calls her "his daughter," because she is his daughter; and sometimes he calls her "my mother."

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Sefer ha-Bahir 54Sefer HaBahir

And what is its purpose here? A parable: to what is the matter comparable? To a king who had a daughter, good and pleasant and beautiful and perfect, and he married her to a king's son, and clothed her and crowned her and adorned her and gave her to him with great wealth. Is it possible for the king to dwell outside his house? You say no. Is it possible for him to sit with her all day continuously? You say no. How then? He set a window between him and her, and every time the daughter needs her father, or the father his daughter, they join together through the window. This is what is written: "All glorious is the king's daughter within; her clothing is of wrought gold" (Psalms 45:14).

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