We catch glimpses, moments of profound clarity, and then… whoosh, the curtain drops.
But what if that very hiding – that hester panim, the concealment of the Divine countenance – is actually part of a much grander plan? That’s what we find ourselves pondering in Da’at Tevunot, a profound work of Jewish thought.
The text suggests that when the "Heavenly Will" – we might say, the ultimate guiding force of the universe – chose this path, it created space, deliberately, for everything the lower creations (that's us!) need for their true perfection. Think of it like this: a potter doesn't just create a perfect vase out of thin air. They need to mold, shape, even introduce imperfections to ultimately achieve the desired form.
And here's the real kicker: when the Divine conceals itself, it actually creates space for deficiencies. It's like saying, "Okay, here's a little mess. Now, what are you going to do about it?" And that mess, that imperfection, becomes the very thing that sparks our growth, our striving. It gives us room for avodah, for service. Service not just in a ritualistic sense, but in the sense of striving to complete ourselves, to repair the world – what we call tikkun olam.
The concealment, therefore, wasn’t done for its own sake. It was done in order to reveal. To provide the space to rectify those very deficiencies with the power of the revelation of perfection. It's a beautiful paradox, isn't it? Darkness allowing us to appreciate and ultimately reach for the light.
And it gets better. The text says that because the concealment was done for revelation – for a revelation so profound that it will occur even from within the concealment itself – a set time was given for "the days of choice." This implies a period of free will, of struggle, of making decisions that contribute to the ultimate rectification. Because in the end, all of the world will be rectified in complete rectification.
Think of it as a long game. Da’at Tevunot hints at a future where all the work, all the striving, all the service culminates in a complete and utter repair. And from then on, the text continues, will be the time for receiving the reward for that service. As the Talmud (Eruvin 22a) so beautifully puts it, "Today to do them, and tomorrow to receive reward."
So, what does it all mean? Perhaps it means that the challenges we face, the moments of feeling lost or disconnected, are not random. They are integral to the process. They are the very things that push us to seek, to strive, to ultimately reveal the Divine spark within ourselves and within the world. And that, my friends, is a pretty profound thought to sit with.