Parshat Noach4 min read

Why Gazing at the Rainbow Is an Act of Spiritual Danger

Rabbi Shimon tells his son that the rainbow carries husks over a hidden brightness. Until those husks are stripped away the Messiah will not come.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. A Son Asks His Father About Colors
  2. Husks Over a Hidden Brightness
  3. The Dim Rainbow and the Delayed Messiah
  4. Light That Splits Into Names

A Son Asks His Father About Colors

Rabbi Elazar looks at the rainbow and wants to understand why he is not supposed to stare at it. The prohibition exists. The rabbis observe it. But the question behind it is real: what is the danger in looking at a natural phenomenon that God placed in the sky as a sign of covenant after the Flood?

His father, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, gives him an answer that reframes the question entirely. The danger is not in the colors. The danger is in what the colors are carrying.

Husks Over a Hidden Brightness

Tikkunei Zohar reads the rainbow through the language of Ezekiel's vision: storm wind, cloud, fire, and glow. The prophet does not see divinity naked. He sees it wrapped in layers of phenomenon that both reveal it and conceal it. The glow surrounding the fire is not the fire itself. The fire surrounding the storm is not the storm itself. Each layer is real. Each layer is also a covering.

The rainbow, in Rabbi Shimon's reading, stands at the outer edge of that same structure. It is too close to a form of divine glory to be stared at without risk. Not because the colors are dangerous in themselves, but because the eye that tries to seize the rainbow with greedy attention is doing something spiritually backward. A sign is meant to turn the soul inward. When the eye consumes the sign as an object, it moves in the opposite direction.

The husks that surround the rainbow's inner light are the kelipot, forces that in Kabbalistic thought separate visible phenomena from the divine source animating them. They are not evil in the simple sense. They function as shells around a nut, necessary in the structure of creation. But they prevent direct access to the brightness at the center.

The Dim Rainbow and the Delayed Messiah

A second passage in Tikkunei Zohar draws the line between the rainbow's current appearance and the messianic future. Until the husks are cleared away, the rainbow remains in its diminished form, beautiful but not at full luminosity. The text is specific: we should not expect the Messiah's arrival while the rainbow still appears dimmed.

The logic runs in both directions. A brilliant, fully luminous rainbow would signal that the kelipot have been stripped from the world's surface. The clarification of the sky would be evidence of a deeper clarification in the structure of creation. Until that happens, the dimmed bow is not merely a meteorological fact. It is a reading of where history stands.

Light That Splits Into Names

The Beur Eser Sefirot tradition offers a further angle. You could say that the rainbow is simply light, and leave it at that. But saying it is simply light misses the information that the refraction carries. Each color is still light. Each color also reveals a facet of the light's structure that white light conceals. The splitting of light into its spectrum is not a distortion of the original. It is a disclosure of what was always inside it.

The ten sefirot in Kabbalistic thought work the same way. Ein Sof, the infinite divine source, does not change when it emanates into distinguishable attributes. The attributes are simply what Ein Sof looks like from inside the world's perspective, the way colors are what light looks like when it passes through the boundary between air and water.

NoahMysticismRainbowGloryTikkunei Zohar
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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.

Tikkunei Zohar 71:15Tikkunei Zohar

Jewish mystical tradition actually has a lot to say about the rainbow, and it's not all sunshine and well, rainbows.

The Tikkunei (spiritual repair) Zohar, a central text of Kabbalah, explores this very question. In the Tikkunei Zohar 71, Rabbi El’azar asks his father, Rabbi Shim’on, a It's a great question. What's the big deal?

Rabbi Shim’on's answer is fascinating, and a little unsettling. He says that the rainbow isn’t just a beautiful display of light and water; it also contains what he calls "husks" (kelipot in Hebrew). These husks, or shells, are like layers that obscure and conceal the divine light. They aren't inherently evil, but they do stand between us and pure goodness.

Think of it like a nut. You have the delicious, nutritious fruit inside, but it's protected by layers of shell. The Tikkunei Zohar uses this imagery to explain the rainbow. Rabbi Shim’on refers to the verse in (Ezekiel 1:4), "a tempest wind. a great cloud, and a sparking fire, and a ‘glow’ (nogah) round about it." He then identifies each of these elements as a different kind of "husk."

The "tempest wind" is the "line of chaos" (tohu), the "green husk of a nut," a ‘green line.’ The "great cloud" is the second, white, husk, a "void" (bohu). The "sparking fire" is the third husk – "darkness." And finally, the "glow" (nogah) is the fourth husk, the one closest to, and even united with, the “fruit” (moḥa).

This nogah, this glow, is particularly interesting. It represents a kind of liminal space, a place where the holy and the unholy are intertwined. And the verse says, from the midst of it comes something like "electrum" (ḥashmal) which is the fruit (moḥa) of the nut. This fruit, it says, is represented by the letters Y-A-Q-D-V-N-Q-Y.

Now, what does all of this mean? Why is staring at the rainbow problematic? The Tikkunei Zohar suggests that gazing at the rainbow can draw us too close to these "husks," to these layers that obscure the divine. It’s a reminder that even in beauty, there can be hidden complexities, layers that need to be understood and navigated with care. We can see the echo of this idea elsewhere in Jewish thought, such as the concept of tzimtzum, the divine contraction, where God "hides" himself to allow for creation.

It's not about being afraid of beauty or denying the wonder of the natural world. It's about recognizing that there's always more than meets the eye. The rainbow, in this view, becomes a symbol of the delicate balance between the revealed and the concealed, the holy and the… well, not-so-holy. So, next time you see a rainbow, take a moment to appreciate its beauty, but also remember the deeper layers of meaning that Jewish tradition ascribes to it. Maybe don't stare too long. Just a thought.

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Tikkunei Zohar 72:4Tikkunei Zohar

It all boils down to the rainbow. Yes, that beautiful arc of color we see after the rain.

Not just any rainbow. The Tikkunei (spiritual repair) Zohar isn't talking about a faded, washed-out bow. It's talking about a rainbow in its full, luminous glory. And until we see that, the text suggests, we shouldn't expect the arrival of the Messiah. Heavy stuff. The passage What are these "husks"? In Kabbalistic thought, "husks," or kelippot, represent the forces of negativity and impurity that obscure the divine light. They're the things that prevent us from seeing the world, and ourselves, as we truly are. Think of them as spiritual grime, clouding our perception.

So, until those husks are gone, until the world is cleansed and purified, the rainbow remains dimmed. And the text continues: "And let this be a sign in your hand: until you see the rainbow in its luminous colours, do not expect the ‘feet of the messiah’." It's a powerful image, isn't it? The "feet of the messiah" – a subtle way of referring to the Messianic era, the time of ultimate redemption and peace. The message is clear: spiritual work needs to happen first. We need to clear away the negativity before we can usher in a new era.

There’s hope! The text doesn't just leave us hanging. It offers a promise: "And as soon as it shines with luminous colours, then immediately: (Gen. 9:16)... and I shall see it to remember the eternal covenant.." The rainbow, in its full brilliance, becomes a reminder of God's covenant with humanity, a promise of protection and renewal. It's a sign that the work has been done, that the world is ready for something new.

And what happens then? "And then immediately is revealed, he of whom it is stated: (Ex. 3:12) And this is the sign to you that I have sent you – to fulfil through this: (Mic. 7:15) Like the days of your going out from the land of Egypt, I shall show him wonders." This is where it gets really interesting. The verse from Exodus refers to Moses, and the verse from Micah speaks of wonders reminiscent of the Exodus from Egypt. The implication? The coming of the Messiah will be a new Exodus, a new liberation, a new era of miracles. The path to redemption isn't passive. It requires active participation. It requires us to remove the "husks" from our own lives and from the world around us. To strive for purity, for clarity, for a world where the rainbow shines in its full, luminous glory. It’s a call to action, a reminder that we all have a role to play in bringing about a better future.

So, the next time you see a rainbow, take a moment. Is it vibrant? Does it fill you with awe? Or does it seem a little…muted? Perhaps it's a reminder that there's still work to be done.

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Beur Eser Sefirot 3:1Beur Eser Sefirot

That’s kind of the question we’re confronting today. Imagine someone turning to you and saying, "Why should I bother with all this Why should I be compelled to think that they are there? Isn’t it simpler, easier, just to say that there’s nothing except the Infinite One, the Ein Sof, alone?"

It’s a valid point. If God is everything, why complicate things with these… emanations? These ten divine attributes or aspects through which God manifests in the world? These ten S'firot?

Think of it like this: you see a rainbow. You could say it's just light. Period. But isn't it richer, more meaningful, to understand how that light refracts, how it separates into a spectrum of colors? Each color is still light, but it reveals a different facet of its essence.

The question of why we should concern ourselves with the S'firot cuts to the heart of how we understand God's relationship with creation. Is God a singular, undifferentiated force? Or does God express Godself through a series of attributes that allow us – finite beings that we are – to perceive and interact with the divine?

The Beur Eser Sefirot, which literally means "Explanation of the Ten Sefirot," wrestles with this very question. It doesn’t dismiss the idea of the Infinite One. Instead, it suggests that the S'firot are the language through which the Infinite One communicates with us, the bridge between the utterly transcendent and the world we experience.

Consider the concept of divine compassion, chesed (Lovingkindness). It’s one of the S'firot. We can experience compassion in our own lives, both giving and receiving it. But is that compassion simply a human emotion? Or is it a reflection of a divine attribute, a way that the Infinite One expresses love and care for creation? If it is, then studying chesed becomes a way of understanding God.

The beauty of this idea is that it invites us to look beyond the surface. It challenges us to see the world not as a simple, one-dimensional reality, but as a complex tapestry woven with divine attributes. It suggests that by studying the S'firot, we can deepen our understanding of God and our place in the universe.

So, is it enough to say that there’s only the Infinite One? Maybe. But perhaps, by exploring the S'firot, we can catch a glimpse of the divine rainbow, a spectrum of infinite possibilities that reveals the boundless nature of God. And isn't that a journey worth taking?

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