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The Four Klipot Ezekiel Saw in the Storm

When Ezekiel saw a storm from the north, he was not watching weather. He was seeing four klipot, shells blocking divine light, called there by human failure.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Priest Stood by the River
  2. What the Four Elements of the Vision Actually Were
  3. Nogah and the Mixed Realm
  4. Why They Appeared in the Same Vision as the Throne

The Priest Stood by the River

He was thirty years old, a priest in exile, standing by the river Chebar in Babylonia when the sky opened. A stormy wind from the north. A great cloud with brightness around it, fire enfolding itself, and in the center something like glowing metal. Then the living creatures, the wheels within wheels, the crystalline expanse above them, and on the expanse something like a throne, and on the throne something in the likeness of a human being, radiant from the waist up and down, surrounded by a rainbow. Ezekiel fell on his face and heard a voice speaking.

The vision is usually read as the arrival of God's throne-chariot, the Merkavah, coming to meet the prophet in exile. The Kabbalistic tradition says that reading captures half of what Ezekiel saw. The other half is what arrived with the divine presence, which was not the presence at all.

What the Four Elements of the Vision Actually Were

Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, the Ramchal, working in eighteenth-century Padua, identifies the four elements of Ezekiel's opening vision precisely. The stormy wind is Ruach Seara. The great cloud is Anan Gadol. The flaming fire is Esh Mitlakahat. And the radiance surrounding everything is Nogah. These four are not atmospheric phenomena, not symbols of divine power, not decorative elements of prophetic imagery. They are the four klipot, husks or shells, the forces that obstruct the divine light as it flows through the Sefirot into created reality.

Three of them are pure obstruction, pure darkness with no residual light. Ruach Seara, Anan Gadol, and Esh Mitlakahat belong entirely to what the tradition calls the sitra achra, the other side. They carry no divine light. They are defined by their function: to block, to conceal, to disrupt the flow from above to below.

Nogah and the Mixed Realm

Nogah is different. The radiance that surrounds the storm in Ezekiel's vision is not entirely dark. It contains residual light, light that was not fully extinguished when the klipot formed, light that continues to flicker within a structure that is otherwise defined by obstruction. This is why Nogah surrounds the other three in the vision: it is the outermost layer, the interface between the purely dark klipot and the world they inhabit.

Nogah is the klipah of the mixed realm. It governs the domain where human beings actually live, where choices between good and evil are genuinely open, where the divine light has not been entirely blocked but is always at risk of being further obscured. The things that are neither holy nor purely harmful, the neutral things, the pleasures and distractions and ordinary desires of embodied life, fall under Nogah. They are not evil in themselves. But they occupy the layer between the darkness and the light, and the direction a person moves through them determines whether Nogah becomes a conduit toward the source or another barrier blocking it.

Why They Appeared in the Same Vision as the Throne

The husks rode in with the throne. Why would the klipot appear in the same vision as the divine presence? The standard assumption is that a prophetic vision of God's presence would be a vision of holiness, not of obstruction. But the Kabbalistic tradition says this is exactly the point. The klipot are not separate from the question of divine presence. They are the conditions under which divine presence has to operate in a fallen world.

When Ezekiel stood by the Chebar in Babylonia, Israel was in exile. The Temple was destroyed. The klipot had expanded their hold precisely because the spiritual failure that preceded the exile had given them more opening than they had had before. What the prophet saw in the vision was not the divine presence arriving despite the klipot. He was seeing the divine presence arriving through them, carrying them with it because in the current state of the world they could not be left behind.


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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.

Asarah Perakim LeRamchal 9:3Asarah Perakim LeRamchal

The Asarah Perakim LeRamchal, a foundational text attributed to the great Kabbalist Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto (the Ramchal), dives deep into this very question. It speaks of four levels, four Klipot (literally "shells" or "husks"), that act as barriers. These aren't just abstract concepts; they're powerful forces that, according to the Ramchal, can actually obstruct and cut off the light of the Sefirot (the divine emanations).

The Sefirot are the ten emanations of God, the channels through which divine energy flows into creation. So, if something is blocking them, that's a pretty big deal.

These four Klipot are related to the worlds of the Samekh Mem, a complex concept in Kabbalah dealing with contraction and limitation. But what are these Klipot, specifically? The Ramchal identifies them as: Nogah (Radiance), Anan Gadol (Great Cloud), Esh Mitlakahat (Flaming Fire), and Ruach (spirit) Seara (Storm Wind).

These names might sound dramatic, and they are! The text explains that, Hass Vechalom, God forbid, these forces can appear because of the negative actions of those of us down here in the lower realms. They can actually cause harm in the world.

Where do we even see these concepts expressed elsewhere? Well, the Ramchal points us directly to the prophet Ezekiel. Remember that incredible, awe-inspiring, and frankly terrifying vision Ezekiel has in the very first chapter of his book?

"As I looked, behold, a stormy wind came out of the north, and a great cloud, with brightness round about it, and a fire infolding itself, and in the midst of it as it were glowing metal" (Ezekiel 1:4).

That “glowing metal” is sometimes translated as Chashmal, another term often associated with divine energy and the mysteries of creation.

Ezekiel's vision, in this Kabbalistic understanding, isn't just a historical event; it's a symbolic representation of these very forces, these Klipot, at play. The storm, the cloud, the fire – all obscuring the divine presence.

So, what does this all mean for us? It's a reminder that our actions have consequences, not just on a personal level, but on a cosmic one. When we act negatively, we, in a sense, strengthen these Klipot, making it harder for divine light and goodness to flow into the world. But conversely, when we act with kindness, compassion, and intention, we weaken those barriers and allow more light to shine through. It's a powerful thought, isn't it? That we each play a role in this cosmic drama, every single day.

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Asarah Perakim LeRamchal 9:2Asarah Perakim LeRamchal

It's not a simple answer, of course, but Jewish mysticism offers some fascinating insights.

The Asarah Perakim LeRamchal, a key text, delves right into this. It begins by quoting (Isaiah 45:7): "I form the light and create darkness, I make peace and create evil." Heavy stuff. But what does it really mean?

The Ramchal, or Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, unpacks this verse. "I form the light" refers to the right side, representing goodness and divine emanation. "And create darkness" – ah, that's the left side. The side of judgment, limitation, and… well, the source of what we perceive as evil. It's important to understand that "evil" here isn't necessarily some independent force, but rather an imbalance, a lack of the fullness of light.

Think of it like this: light reveals, darkness conceals. Too much light can be blinding, but too much darkness… well, we stumble.

The verse continues, "I make peace." Those are the angels of peace. And "create evil"? That’s attributed to the Samekh Mem. Now, Samekh Mem is a code, a euphemism. It's a way of referring to the forces of destruction and negativity without naming them directly. It’s like calling Voldemort “He Who Must Not Be Named.”

The text goes on to describe how these forces are structured. Just as the angels of peace are divided into ten categories, serving the ten Sefirot (the divine emanations) (the emanations of God) on the right, so too are the angels of destruction arranged in ten levels, mirroring the Sefirot on the left. It’s a cosmic symmetry, a divine balancing act.

It all circles back to (Ecclesiastes 7:14): "Even this opposite that God made them." HAELOKIM, God, made both sides. This isn't to say God is evil, but that God created the framework within which both good and evil can exist. The potential for both is woven into the very fabric of creation.

It's a challenging idea, no doubt. But it points to a profound truth: that duality, that tension between opposing forces, is fundamental to our existence. It's not about a simple battle between good and evil, but about how we work through the interplay of light and darkness within ourselves and in the world around us. What will we choose to illuminate? What shadows will we allow to linger?

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