Jewish tradition suggests you might be right, especially when it comes to prophecy.
Think of it this way: imagine a vast, boundless ocean of light, a pure, radiant holiness residing in the highest realms. This isn't just any light; it's the source of the very light and holiness within each and every one of us. But how does that infinite light reach us, here in our everyday lives?
Hovat ha-Talmidim offers a beautiful analogy. Imagine pouring wine into a flask using a funnel. The wide end of the funnel catches the full pour, but only the narrow end goes into the flask. The light from above, similarly, goes through a process of diminishment, of contraction. It narrows, focuses.
This process, according to tradition, brings the light into a form that can inspire the prophets. But even then, the light doesn't stop shrinking. It diminishes further, until all that remains in our present generation is just a small spark of that original prophetic fire.
It's like the volume's been turned way down. But it’s still there!
There's a rabbinic principle that really underscores this idea. It suggests that the level of prophecy experienced by the Patriarchs was significantly greater than what was available to the prophets who followed. And even the prophets had more access to it than we do today. This idea resonates with the widespread belief that the real giants of humanity lived in the distant past.
How small is that spark today? Well, tradition tells us that a dream is one sixtieth of prophecy. Just a tiny fraction.
So, what does this mean for us? Are we doomed to live in a world devoid of true prophetic inspiration? Not necessarily. Perhaps it means we need to work harder to connect with that original source, to seek out those sparks of light in the darkness. Maybe it requires us to listen more intently to the whispers of our own souls, to the dreams that might just be carrying a tiny fragment of ancient wisdom.
Because even a spark, a tiny glimmer, can ignite a powerful flame. Perhaps the task of our generation isn't to lament the loss of grand prophecy, but to nurture the small sparks we have, and to tend to them with care, hoping they might one day grow into something truly magnificent.