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What Adam Carried Out of Eden and What He Left Behind

The Kabbalists said Adam contained every soul that would ever live. When he sinned and was diminished, those souls were scattered across history.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Moment He Understood
  2. What the Kabbalists Found in His Soul
  3. The Worlds Before This One
  4. The Glory He Wore and Then Lost
  5. What He Could Still See on the First Shabbat

The Moment He Understood

Adam looked at creation and said: how great are your works, O Lord. This verse from Psalms is the record of a specific moment, and Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, the early medieval midrash compiled around the 8th century CE, placed it precisely. Adam stood in the garden and saw what he had been given, and saw what he had done to it, and the recognition came over him in full.

He had not been deceived without his participation. He had eaten knowing the prohibition. He had heard the serpent and had weighed the argument and had reached for the fruit. And now he stood in the aftermath of that decision and looked at what creation had been and understood what it would now be. The psalm verse was the sound of that understanding.

What the Kabbalists Found in His Soul

The Lurianic Kabbalists, drawing on the Zohar and elaborating it through the 16th-century work of Rabbi Yitzhak Luria of Safed, looked at Adam and saw not one soul but all of them. Adam Kadmon, primordial Adam, was the vessel that contained every soul that would ever be born. Not symbolically. Literally. When Adam sinned and was diminished, the souls contained in him were scattered. Every subsequent human life was a fragment of what had been whole.

This reading transformed the expulsion from Eden from a story about two people into a story about the entire history of human souls. The sin was Adam's. The scattering was everyone's. The work of repair, tikkun, the process that Jewish mystical tradition described as the purpose of righteous action was specifically the work of gathering what had been scattered, of restoring the configuration that had existed before the fall.

The Worlds Before This One

The Kabbalistic framework built by Luria and his school described the process of creation in stages. Atzilut, emanation. Beriyah, creation. Yetzirah, formation. Asiyah, action. Each world had its own Adam, its own expression of the primordial human form. The Adam of Asiyah, the world of action, was the one who stood in a physical garden with a physical fruit in front of him.

Above him, in the worlds of formation and creation and emanation, other versions of the human configuration existed in increasing degrees of refinement and spiritual intensity. The sin in the garden sent reverberations upward through all of them. What broke in Eden broke in resonance through every level of the cosmic structure, and the repair that was needed was not merely the repair of one man's violation but a repair that had to work its way upward through every level the damage had reached.

The Glory He Wore and Then Lost

Before the sin, in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer's account, Adam was clothed in light. Not fabric. The light of the divine presence clung to him as his natural covering. The animals came to him and received their names. The angels came to him and mistook him for something divine. God had to tell the angels: this one sleeps; the divine does not sleep.

After the sin, the light withdrew. What replaced it, according to the midrashic tradition, was the skin garments that God made for Adam and Eve before expelling them from the garden. The rabbis noted the wordplay in the Hebrew: or with an alef means skin, or with an ayin means light. The garments of skin covered what had been garments of light. The replacement was functional but diminished, a shelter for the body that had lost its natural radiance.

What He Could Still See on the First Shabbat

The tradition held that God preserved one gift for Adam even after the expulsion. On the first Shabbat, according to several midrashic sources, the primordial light, the light of the first day, hidden away before the sun was created on the fourth day, was shown to Adam one final time. He saw by it everything from one end of the world to the other. Then it was hidden again, stored for the righteous who would use it in a future age.

This was what Adam took with him from Eden: the memory of having seen by that light. Everything he had been, everything he had cost, everything that had been scattered through his descendants, all of it had been illuminated for one Shabbat, and the illumination was his. The Kabbalists believed the righteous in each generation carried a spark of that original light and were working, through their actions, to bring it back into unified form.

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Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah 34:14Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah

The ancient Kabbalists certainly thought so. They envisioned the universe, and indeed the very structure of existence, as a complex network of pathways through which divine energy flows. And they believed that understanding these pathways could unlock profound insights into ourselves and the world around us.

One fascinating exploration of this idea comes from the Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah, a Kabbalistic text whose title translates to "34 Openings of Wisdom." It explores the mechanics of how the spirit, that ruach (spirit), journeys through the different dimensions of existence, particularly within the archetypal form known as Adam Kadmon.

Adam Kadmon isn’t the Adam from the Garden of Eden. Think of it more like a primordial blueprint, a cosmic human form that embodies all of creation. The Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah describes how the spirit navigates through this form according to its own unique set of laws.

It like this: the spirit is circulating within Adam Kadmon, almost like a river finding its course. According to the Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah, wherever that spiritual current first makes contact, that's where it emerges. It's as if the spirit is drawn to specific points, driven by an internal compass we may not consciously perceive.

The text goes on to explain that these divine names, these powerful forces, circle within Adam Kadmon, adhering to predetermined laws. The spirit then seeks out the limbs and organs it encounters first, entering them and radiating outward.

What's truly remarkable is the connection drawn between these internal movements and the external world. The text suggests that the radiation emanating from these limbs and organs manifests in specific parts of the face. It’s a potent image, suggesting that our inner spiritual state is directly reflected in our outward appearance. The pathways of the spirit within shape the expressions we show the world. Could it be that the way we carry ourselves, the expressions we wear, are not merely reflections of our conscious thoughts and emotions, but also echoes of a deeper, more primal spiritual journey? It’s a profound question, one that invites us to look beyond the surface and consider the hidden currents that shape our being. Are we aware of the ruach within, and where it is leading us?

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Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah 39:5Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah

That’s kind of where we’re headed today, as we try to wrap our minds around the mystical concept of the world of Nekudim.

We've been talking about the worlds of Atzilut (Emanation), Beriyah (Creation), Yetzirah (Formation), and Asiyah (Action) as a complete system – a sort of cosmic blueprint. But before all that, there was something else. something that sets the stage for everything that follows. And to understand Nekudim, we need to see it in relation to these other realms.

Our source text, Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah (Wisdom), lays out a proposition about Nekudim in two parts. First, it states that "The world of Nekudim was like one material…" It wasn't a level in and of itself, not like Atzilut or Beriyah. Instead, it was the raw potential, the undifferentiated "stuff" from which all those worlds would later take shape. Imagine a sculptor staring at a block of marble – the statue is already there, waiting to be revealed, but it’s still just… stone. That's the essence of Nekudim.

To understand its placement, we must understand its relationship to Akudim (Binding), the light emerging from the mouth of Adam Kadmon. This light extends to the navel, while Nekudim extends from the navel to the feet of Adam Kadmon.

So, if Nekudim isn't a distinct level, what is it? Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah tells us that it's "a single general law which simply institutes the existence of all that is destined to exist." It’s the cosmic "on" switch, the force that says, "Let there be!" It's the underlying principle that allows for the unfolding of all creation.

But here’s where it gets really interesting, and maybe a little uncomfortable. The text also tells us that this world of Nekudim is "nothing but the particular power in the Likeness of Man that stands to produce evil." Whoa, hold on a second! Evil? What’s that doing here?

Well, the text clarifies that the end goal isn't to produce evil for evil's sake. Instead, it’s that "it should revert to good." Think of it like this: how can we truly appreciate the light without knowing the darkness? How can we choose good if we haven't experienced the alternative? The existence of evil, or at least the potential for evil, is necessary for the ultimate triumph of good. It’s part of the process. The text argues that this reversion to good couldn't happen "unless evil first exists in actuality."

So, Nekudim, in this view, isn’t just a passive substance. It's an active force, a crucible where potential good and potential evil are forged. It's the messy, complicated, and sometimes scary space where creation takes its first breath. It's a reminder that even in the most primordial, formless depths of existence, the seeds of both light and darkness are already present, intertwined, and waiting to be brought into the world.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s a reflection of ourselves, too. We all have the potential for both good and evil within us. The question is, what will we choose to bring into being? What kind of world will we help to create from the raw material of our own lives?

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Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah 17:12Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah

It’s about seeing something profound reflected in our very being. Something divine.

The Kabbalists " But what exactly is a Partzuf? It's not just any old particular thing. It's a complete, detailed manifestation of divine power, arranged in a very specific way.

The Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah, a key text in Kabbalistic thought, tells us that a Partzuf embodies the "fundamental Likeness of Man." This is crucial! It's not enough for something to be a distinct entity. It earns the title of Partzuf because it’s structured according to this primal human template.

Think of it like this: you can have a pile of LEGO bricks. But it’s only when you arrange them according to instructions that they become a specific model, a recognizable form. Similarly, the divine energies, when arranged in the "Likeness of Man," become a Partzuf, a "face" that we can, in a sense, recognize.

Now, where does this "Likeness of Man" come from? Here's where things get really interesting.

It's rooted, the text explains, in the secret of 613. Six hundred and thirteen what, you ask? Six hundred and thirteen components that constitute the entire structure of Adam Kadmon, the Primordial Man. This isn't about the Adam from the Garden of Eden. Adam Kadmon is a cosmic archetype, the original template for all of creation.

Consider that each Sefirah (divine attribute) contains ten aspects. In theory, each could divide into any number of parts. But according to the Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah, "what the Supreme Thought calculated was 613." And that number isn't arbitrary.

We see this reflected in our own physical bodies, with its 248 bones and 365 sinews. Add them up, and what do you get? 613!

But the connection doesn't stop there. The 613 also mirrors the commandments (mitzvot) of the Torah: 248 positive commandments ("thou shalts") and 365 prohibitions ("thou shalt nots"). As we find in numerous Kabbalistic sources, “everything goes according to this measure."

Why is this so significant? It suggests a deep, interconnected web linking the divine realm (the Sefirot (the divine emanations), Partzufim), the human body, and the Torah itself. We, in our very physical structure, are living embodiments of divine principles, constantly reminded of our connection to something far greater than ourselves.

So, the next time you look in the mirror, remember: you're not just seeing a face. You're seeing a reflection of the divine blueprint, a miniature model of the cosmos itself. A powerful reminder that we are all, in our own way, walking, talking Partzufim.

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Introduction to Sulam Commentary 18:1Introduction to Sulam Commentary

It turns out, in Kabbalah, it absolutely is! The source turns to a fascinating, albeit complex, concept from the Sulam commentary, which unveils hidden meanings within the very name of God, Elohim.

The Sulam, meaning "ladder," is a commentary by Rabbi Yehuda Ashlag on the Zohar, a foundational text of Kabbalah. It aims to make these profound teachings accessible, like climbing a ladder rung by rung. Now, Rabbi Ashlag draws out a teaching from the structure of the name Elohim (אלהים), often translated as God. It contains five letters: alef, lamed, heh, yod, mem. Now, get this: these letters, according to this Kabbalistic interpretation, are divisible into two halves, each revealing something profound about the spiritual realms.

The first half, mi eleh (מי אלה), formed from the letters mem-yod, and alef-lamed-heh, alludes to the two lights of ruaḥ and nefesh (the vital soul). These are often translated as "spirit" and "soul," and are seen as enclothed within the vessels of Keter (Crown, the highest of the ten sefirot) and Ḥokhma. Keter and Ḥokhma are two of the ten Sefirot, the emanations through which God reveals Himself and continuously creates the world. In this model, Keter and Ḥokhma remain stable, they "remained in the level," as the text says.

What about the other three letters? The letters alef, lamed, and heh, allude to the three vessels of Bina, Tiferet (Beauty), and Malkhut (Sovereignty). Again, these are Sefirot. According to the Sulam, these "left the level." This departure, this movement, is crucial to understanding the dynamics of creation and the flow of divine energy.

Now, let's bring in another layer of complexity: the "descent of Malkhut from Bina." This is where the concept of feminine waters, or mayin nukvin comes in. According to the Zohar (Vayak’hel 41), the ascent of these feminine waters–which stem from the Torah study and prayer of us, the lower creations–draws forth a supernal illumination from Ḥokhma and Bina of Adam Kadmon, the primordial man. This illumination then acts upon Malkhut, removing it from Bina in each level and lowering it to its designated place. Whew!

Why is this descent so important? Well, the Sulam explains that the vessels Bina, Tiferet, and Malkhut had previously left their level because the letter yod (which represents Malkhut) entered into the or, or light, of that level. This caused a kind of spiritual "traffic jam," arresting the flow of divine energy under Ḥokhma. The or itself became avir, or air, suggesting a dilution or weakening of the light.

But, once Malkhut descends and the yod leaves this avir, the vessels return to their levels. Suddenly, we have all five vessels, Keter, Ḥokhma, Bina, Tiferet, and Malkhut, present and accounted for. And with all five vessels in place, all five lights, yeḥida, ḥaya, neshama, ruaḥ, and nefesh, can once again be enclothed within them. The avir reverts to or, and the full spectrum of divine energy flows freely.

So what does this all mean? It speaks to the constant ebb and flow of divine energy, the dynamic interplay between different aspects of God's being, and the role we play in this cosmic dance. Our actions, our prayers, our study of Torah, these aren't just rituals; they're acts that can literally realign the spiritual cosmos, restoring the flow of light and bringing wholeness to the world.

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 19:9Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating text compiling midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) stories and interpretations, dives right into this idea. It opens with a powerful verse from Psalms: "How great are Thy works, O Lord!" (Ps. 92:5). Imagine Adam, the very first human, standing in awe of creation. He looks around, completely floored by the sheer magnitude and intricacy of it all. He starts praising God, overwhelmed by the divine artistry.

Then comes the kicker: "Thy thoughts are very deep" (Ps. 92:5). The text emphasizes this depth, comparing it to the "great deep exceedingly (deep)." It’s not just that God's creations are amazing, but that the ideas behind them are unfathomable. There's a level of understanding that's simply beyond our grasp.at least, without some serious effort.

That's where we come in.

The text continues by saying, "A brutish man knoweth not" (Ps. 92:6). Now, "brutish" here doesn't mean rude or ill-mannered. It means lacking in knowledge, specifically knowledge of Torah. Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer is making a profound statement about the importance of learning. It’s not enough to just exist in this incredible world. We have a responsibility to try and understand it, to explore the wisdom of our tradition.

So, what should we do about those who are "brutish?" The text is clear: "Every man of Israel who is brutish (in knowledge) and has not learnt understanding, let the wise men of Israel teach him the ways of the Torah." It's a call to action! It’s a reminder that we are all responsible for each other's spiritual growth. The wise among us have a duty to share their knowledge and guide those who are seeking understanding. As it says, "Consider, ye brutish among the people" (Ps. 94:8). In other words, pay attention! There's so much to learn.

But here's where it gets really interesting. What about the really smart people, the geniuses, who aren't Jewish? Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer has something to say about that too. "But a man who is an expert among the nations of the world is still foolish. Why? For he knoweth not the words of the Torah, as it is said, 'Neither doth a fool understand this' (Ps. 92:6)."

Ouch.

Strong words. It's not saying that non-Jews are inherently unintelligent, not at all! The point is that even the most brilliant mind, without the wisdom of Torah, is missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. They may excel in science, or art, or philosophy, but they lack the spiritual depth and understanding that comes from engaging with our sacred texts. this way: imagine someone who’s a master carpenter. They can build anything, but they don't understand the principles of physics that make their creations possible. They're skilled, but they're missing a deeper level of understanding.

So, what’s the takeaway from all this? It's not about being the smartest person in the room. It's about striving for understanding, about engaging with the wisdom of our tradition, and about sharing that wisdom with others. It’s about recognizing that the world is full of wonders, and that we have a responsibility to explore and appreciate them, armed with the insights of Torah. Maybe, just maybe, we can get closer to understanding those "very deep" thoughts of the Divine.

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