It’s a question that’s plagued philosophers and theologians for centuries. But Jewish mystical tradition, specifically as illuminated by Baal HaSulam in his introduction to the Zohar, offers a fascinating perspective.
He tells us that this intense desire to receive – to take in, to accumulate – wasn't always a part of the "good" side, what we call the system of sanctity. Instead, it was… relocated.
According to Baal HaSulam, this overwhelming drive was actually removed entirely from the realm of holiness and placed within the worlds of impurity, or what we might think of as the klipot (literally, shells), the forces that obscure the divine light. This realm of impurity is where bodies come from, and all their needs, and everything they manage to acquire in this world.
Think about it: our physical selves, our basic needs for survival – food, shelter, comfort – and our aspirations for material possessions… all these stem from this relocated desire. It's a powerful force, driving much of human action. But is it inherently negative?
Well, that’s where the beauty of the Torah and mitzvot (commandments) comes in. Baal HaSulam explains that, from the age of thirteen – the age of Bar/Bat Mitzvah, of taking on religious responsibility – engaging with Torah and performing mitzvot helps a person acquire a nefesh kedosha – a sanctified soul. This soul, he says, is nourished from the system of holy worlds, in proportion to the degree of sanctity one achieves.
So, it’s a process. We start with this powerful, potentially overwhelming desire to receive, rooted in the klipot. But through conscious effort, through engaging with our tradition and striving to live ethically, we can cultivate a holy soul, a nefesh kedosha, that draws sustenance from a higher source.
It's like… taking a wild, untamed river and channeling its energy to irrigate a field. The desire is still there, but it's being directed towards a more constructive, meaningful purpose. The more we connect to holiness, the more our soul is nourished, and the more we can transform that initial, raw desire into something truly beautiful.
What does this mean for us, day to day? Perhaps it's a reminder that desire itself isn't inherently evil. It's how we choose to channel it that matters. By engaging with Torah, by performing mitzvot, and by consciously striving to live a life of meaning and purpose, we can transform that initial, sometimes overwhelming, desire into something that nourishes our souls and brings us closer to the divine. And isn't that a journey worth taking?