One powerful idea, found in Midrash ha-Ne'elam and the Zohar Hadash, is that the Garden of Eden is actually hidden. So hidden, in fact, that "it is closed on every side, and guarded in a number of ways so that none can see it, not even the angels or the eye of a prophet or seer." It's as though it’s tucked away in a secret pocket of reality, almost impossible to find. As it says in Isaiah (64:3), "No eye has seen it, Lord, but You."
Think of it like this: The Zohar compares Eden to a nut nestled safely within its shell – a complete world within a world. It was planted by God Himself, as it says in Genesis 2:8, "The Lord God planted a garden in Eden," and, according to tradition, “He planted it with His complete Name.”
But what is it like, this hidden garden? According to the tradition, it’s the dwelling place of holy souls, both those who've already lived on Earth and those waiting to be born. These souls are completely absorbed in Torah (Jewish Law and teachings), unified with God and bathed in divine light. Imagine – a place dedicated solely to divine connection.
Now, why hide it so well? Well, remember that banishment? By suggesting that Eden is hidden, this myth offers us an explanation for why we don't stumble across it every day. It addresses that nagging question of what happened to it after Adam and Eve left.
Of course, there are other ideas too. 3 Baruch suggests that the Flood wiped it out: "When God brought the Flood, the water entered Paradise and killed every flower." A pretty devastating image, right?
These stories are also a kind of commentary on the verses in Genesis and the Song of Songs. Genesis 2:8, which tells us God planted the garden, and Song of Songs 6:11, "I went down to the nut grove," which is often interpreted mystically, with the nut grove representing the Garden of Eden.
In kabbalah (Jewish mysticism), the Garden of Eden isn't necessarily a physical place at all. It could be an internal state, a mystical one that you reach through specific practices. Rabbi Moshe Alshekh, in Torat Moshe, even describes it as supernatural. He says that if you take something from the garden – a branch or a leaf – it becomes ordinary, earthly. He uses the example of Noah's dove, which brought back an olive branch from Eden, which then became a regular olive branch.
It's worth noting that the term Gan Eden, literally "Garden of Eden," has two meanings: the earthly garden of Adam and Eve, and Paradise itself. These meanings often blend, leading to the idea that there are actually two gardens – the earthly one we know from the Genesis story, and the heavenly Eden, which is Paradise. The Zohar (3:182b) delves into this idea of an upper and lower Gan Eden.
And if you're itching for even more Eden adventures, you can find folktales about journeys to the Garden of Eden in books like Miriam's Tambourine and Gabriel's Palace. They're filled with the kind of imaginative storytelling that makes these ideas so vivid.
So, what do we make of all this? Is the Garden of Eden a real, hidden place? A metaphor for spiritual connection? A state of mind? Maybe it's all of the above. Perhaps the most important thing is the idea that, even after the expulsion, the possibility of paradise – in some form – still exists. That the connection to something greater, something truly divine, is always within reach, even if it's hidden, waiting to be discovered.