The Reshimu – often translated as "Residue" or "Impression" – is a term that pops up in discussions of the Tzimtzum (צמצום), the primordial act of divine self-contraction. Now, the idea of a residue seems simple enough. It's what's left behind after something else is gone. Like the crumbs after you finish a cookie, or the faint scent of perfume after someone leaves the room.
But here's the thing: the Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah points out that the term "Residue," in this case, doesn't quite fit. Why not? Because, normally, a residue is something of the same nature as what came before, only smaller, lesser. Think of coffee grounds as the residue of brewed coffee. Same stuff, just… used.
However, with the Reshimu, we're dealing with something different. The light that disappeared during the Tzimtzum – the Ohr Ein Sof (אוֹר אֵין סוֹף), the Infinite Light – was, well, invisible. Beyond our comprehension. But what remained after the contraction, after the "space" was created for our world, was visible light. The light we experience every day.
So, according to the Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah, these aren't exactly in the same category! One is the boundless, unknowable light of the Infinite, and the other is the light that illuminates our tangible reality.
If they’re not in the same category, can we even call the latter a true “residue” of the former? The text seems to hesitate. It says, “We cannot truly say that it is a residue of that Light, only that it is called a residue.”
Intriguing, isn't it?
So why call it a residue at all? If it's not really a residue, why use the term? That's the million-dollar question. The Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah hints that we'll understand the reason later on. It suggests there's a deeper understanding to be gleaned, a secret connection between the hidden and revealed, the infinite and the finite.
Perhaps the Reshimu isn't just about what's left behind, but about the potential that remains. The faint echo of the Ein Sof within the very fabric of our reality. The promise that, even in the seemingly empty spaces, the divine spark still flickers.
Maybe the term "residue" is a pointer, a clue, nudging us toward a more profound appreciation of the interconnectedness of everything. A reminder that even the light we see around us carries within it a trace of the boundless, unseen light from which it originated. What do you think?