That feeling resonates deeply when we delve into the Kabbalistic concept of Tzimtzum, the primordial contraction. Before creation, there was only Ein Sof, the Infinite. But how could a finite world, a world of boundaries and limitations, emerge from the boundless?
The Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah grapples with this very question. It tells us that before the Tzimtzum, before this cosmic act of self-limitation, existence was utterly beyond our perception. It simply was, in a state that we couldn't even begin to fathom. Imagine a light so intense, so all-encompassing, that it blinds you to everything else.
The text emphasizes that even now, in realms untouched by the Tzimtzum, this holds true. We can't see or grasp what existed before. But with the Tzimtzum, something changed. A space was created, a void in which creation could unfold. And into this space shone a different kind of light – the light of the contracted Sefirot, the divine attributes. Because we can perceive this light, it is fundamentally different from both what preceded the Tzimtzum and Ein Sof itself.
This brings us to the concept of Ohr Ne’etzal (אור נאצל), "emanated light." The Kabbalists use this term to describe the light of the Sefirot. But here’s where it gets tricky, and where the Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah cautions us against a potential misunderstanding.
Could we mistakenly think that the Sefirot are a totally new light, something that Ein Sof drew forth from Himself? Since the Emanator (Ein Sof) is attached to the Sefirot, wouldn't that make them Godliness itself?
The text quickly clarifies that this is a dangerous oversimplification. The idea of "drawing one thing out of another" implies a physical act, a bodily occurrence. We can't apply such a concept to the Divine. If Ein Sof were to draw something forth, that something would inherently be Godliness too, wouldn't it? It would be inseparable from the source.
The Etz Chayim (Tree of Life), particularly in sections 1:3, 12b, and 13b, further elaborates on this delicate balance. It helps us understand that the emanation of the Sefirot isn't a physical separation, but rather a manifestation of the divine attributes within the created realm.
So, what does this all mean for us? Perhaps it's a reminder that our understanding of the Divine will always be partial, filtered through the lens of our limited human perception. The mysteries of creation, the dance between the infinite and the finite, will continue to beckon us, inviting us to contemplate the profound depths of existence. But we must be mindful, as the Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah wisely suggests, to avoid reducing the Divine to concepts that are too easily grasped, too neatly defined. The true beauty, perhaps, lies in the very mystery itself.