Jewish tradition, particularly in esoteric texts, grapples with this very question. Imagine a cosmic courtroom, a beth din, in the time to come. God, seated on His Throne of Justice, summons all of creation – heaven, earth, sun, moon, the stars themselves – to account for their actions, or rather, their inaction.
According to Tree of Souls, God begins by addressing heaven and earth directly. He reminds them, "I created you! How could you stand by, silent, as My Shekhinah—that's the divine presence, the indwelling glory of God—departed? How could you watch My Temple be destroyed, My children exiled among the nations, and not plead for mercy?" It’s a powerful rebuke, a cosmic accusation of indifference.
But it doesn't stop there. Next up are the celestial bodies: the sun, the moon, and all the stars and planets. They too face God's questioning. Were they merely passive observers, shining light on suffering without lifting a metaphorical finger?
Then comes Metatron. This is a big one. Metatron is a powerful angel, often considered the highest-ranking in Jewish mystical tradition. God says to him, "I gave you a name to be equal to Mine, as it is said, 'For My name is in him' (Exod. 25:21)." This refers to a passage where God says an angel will lead the Israelites and that God’s name is “in him." So, how could Metatron, bearing such a weighty responsibility, such a close connection to the Divine, simply watch the devastation unfold and not intercede? The implication is staggering.
And the accusations keep coming. God even summons the "fathers of the world" – think Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob – and confronts them. "I issued harsh decrees against your children," God says, "yet you asked for no mercy on their behalf! I foretold their exile, 'Know well that your offspring shall be strangers in a land not theirs' (Gen. 15:13), but did you not even try to avert it?" It's a harsh judgment, holding even the patriarchs accountable for the fate of their descendants.
What's the point of all this cosmic finger-pointing? Is God simply expressing divine frustration? Perhaps. But there's something deeper at play. According to this passage, after all this, God will abolish the present order of the world.
And then? Then, He will renew the heaven and the earth, as it is said, "For behold! I am creating a new heaven and a new earth" (Isaiah 65:17).
This act of cosmic reprimand isn't about assigning blame for its own sake. It's about clearing the way for something new, something better. It's about acknowledging the pain and suffering of the past, holding the universe itself accountable, and then – only then – creating a future filled with hope and renewal. Maybe, just maybe, that future starts with us demanding accountability not just from the cosmos, but from ourselves.