It’s a question that sits at the heart of Jewish mystical thought, especially when we talk about the Sefirot.
The Sefirot, for those new to the term, are the ten emanations of God, the ten attributes through which the Divine manifests in the world. Think of them as the colors of a prism, each distinct, yet all part of the same light. And according to the ancient text Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah, these Sefirot… they are Godliness.
Now, if the Sefirot are Godliness itself, that poses a fascinating problem. God, by definition, is unchanging. Immutable. So how do we reconcile this with the idea that the Sefirot seem to… well, do things? To emanate, to create, to interact? Does that imply a change within God?
Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah answers with a resounding "no." Change, it insists, simply isn't applicable to Godliness. Which means the light of the Sefirot isn't something new. It was always there. Think of a radio signal constantly being broadcast. Just because you haven't tuned your receiver to the right frequency doesn't mean it wasn't transmitting.
But if the light was always there, why couldn't we always see it?
That's the crux of the matter, isn't it? If visibility were intrinsic to the light's nature, it would always have been visible. So, what changed? What was new?
The answer, according to Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah, is in God's will. God willed, and made it possible, for the light of the Sefirot to be seen. He gave permission at precisely the moment He wished, and not before. Think of a dimmer switch being turned up, not because the lightbulb itself is changing, but because the flow of electricity is being increased.
The change wasn’t in the nature of Godliness itself. The change was in its being revealed to those who could receive it. It's not that God became something different, but that we were finally given the capacity to perceive what was always present.
This distinction, subtle as it may seem, is profound. It speaks to the idea that our perception of reality is limited, and that what we see is only a fraction of what truly exists. It suggests that the Divine is always present, always emanating, but that our ability to connect with it is dependent on something more than just its existence.
Perhaps it depends on our own readiness. Our own willingness to tune our receiver. Our own capacity to turn up the dimmer switch within ourselves.