Jewish mysticism has a story about that – a cosmic catastrophe, if you will, that explains it all. And even better, it offers a path toward putting things back together.
We're talking about the Shevirat ha-Kelim, the "breaking of the vessels." It's a core concept in Kabbalah, Jewish mystical tradition, that attempts to explain the origin of evil and imperfection in the world. The basic idea, as presented in texts like Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah, is that before the world as we know it existed, there were primordial vessels designed to contain the immense light and energy of the Divine.
But these vessels, well, they weren't quite up to the task.
Imagine trying to contain the sun in a glass jar. That’s kind of the idea. These vessels, according to the Kabbalists, shattered under the intensity. And that shattering, that cosmic explosion, scattered the divine sparks – the nitzot – throughout creation. This scattering is, in essence, the origin of evil, imperfection, and all the stuff that makes life so darn complicated.
Now, Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah, which translates to "47 Openings of Wisdom," adds a particularly poignant detail: the repair of these vessels from evil, it says, is "albeit incomplete." for a second.
The repair…is incomplete.
What does that mean? It means that the process of tikkun olam, repairing the world, is not a one-time fix. It's an ongoing, never-ending project. We are constantly picking up the pieces, trying to put them back together, knowing that the job will never be fully finished in our lifetime.
Why?
Perhaps because the vessels themselves were inherently flawed, unable to contain the infinite. Or perhaps because the very act of shattering created a new reality, a reality where imperfection and struggle are integral parts of the design.
The great Kabbalist Rabbi Isaac Luria, known as the Ari, expanded on this concept in the 16th century. He taught that these scattered sparks are trapped within the material world, waiting to be liberated through our actions. Every mitzvah, every act of kindness, every effort we make to improve ourselves and the world around us, helps to release these sparks and bring us closer to a state of wholeness. (See, for example, Luria's teachings as summarized in Shaar HaGilgulim.)
So, what are we to do with this incomplete repair? Do we throw up our hands in despair? Absolutely not! The incompleteness is not a cause for hopelessness, but rather an invitation to participate in the ongoing creation of the world. It’s a call to action.
It means that every small act matters. Every kind word, every gesture of compassion, every effort to make the world a little bit better, contributes to the repair. We are all partners in this cosmic project, tasked with finding and liberating those scattered sparks of divinity.
And maybe, just maybe, the fact that the repair is incomplete is not a bug, but a feature. Maybe it's the incompleteness that keeps us striving, keeps us growing, keeps us connected to something larger than ourselves. Because if the world was already perfect, what would be left for us to do?