According to Jewish tradition, it might just be thirty-six ordinary people.

These aren't kings or prophets. They're not wealthy philanthropists or celebrated scholars. They are the Lamed-vav Tzaddikim (ל״ו צַדִיקִים) – the thirty-six righteous ones. The hidden saints.

The legend goes that in every generation, there are thirty-six individuals so righteous, so pure of heart, that their merit sustains the entire world. Because of them, God allows the world to continue. They are, quite literally, the pillars of existence.

But here’s the truly fascinating part: they are hidden.

We're not talking about secret identities or elaborate disguises. Rather, these tzaddikim (righteous ones) are completely unaware of their own significance. They live among us, seemingly ordinary, perhaps working as water carriers, wood choppers, or even wandering beggars. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 97b) suggests that each of these righteous men must be approved by the Shekhinah (שְׁכִינָה), the divine presence.

The Zohar, in Exodus 2:151a, speaks of these individuals, blessed to see the Shekhinah. Imagine that – living a humble life, completely unaware that you possess the spiritual vision to perceive the Divine.

The concept of the thirty-six righteous ones appears in the Talmud and later becomes a cornerstone of Jewish folklore, Kabbalistic thought, and Hasidic tales. Interestingly, the exact number of hidden saints wasn't always fixed. Genesis Rabbah 35:2 mentions thirty, while B. Hullin 45a suggests forty-five. But eventually, thirty-six became the standard.

Why thirty-six? Some believe it's because it’s double eighteen. And in Hebrew, the number eighteen – heh (חַי) – also means "life." Thirty-six, then, becomes a symbol of double life, of sustained existence.

Because any stranger could be one of these Lamed-vav Tzaddikim, Jewish tradition emphasizes showing respect to everyone. You never know – the person you pass on the street could be one of the very people holding the world together.

Many stories depict them living in remote locations – forests, mountains – dedicating themselves to mystical study and prayer. Yisroel Yakov Klapholtz even published a two-volume collection of tales about them, titled Lamed-Vav Tzaddikim Nistarim (ל״ו צַדִיקִים נִסתָּרים).

Now, what happens to these righteous souls when they leave this world? Well, tradition tells us that few escape the punishments of Gehenna (hell). But these saints? Their souls ascend directly to heavenly rewards.

André Schwarz-Bart's novel, "The Last of the Just," explores this myth, though he takes considerable liberties with the traditional narrative, portraying the hidden saints as descendants of a single family line.

So, the next time you feel overwhelmed by the state of the world, remember the Lamed-vav Tzaddikim. Remember the possibility that hidden acts of kindness, quiet devotion, and unassuming righteousness might just be the things that keep us all afloat. Maybe, just maybe, we all have the potential to be one of those thirty-six.