Remember how we talked last time about the "Wars of God," those intellectual battles fought over the proper approach to divine wisdom? Well, buckle up, because the debate rages on!
Someone—presumably the author of the original text being responded to—suggested that the Ribash (Rabbi Isaac bar Sheshet Perfet), a prominent 14th-century Spanish rabbi, held back in his writings. The response? Absolutely not! The author insists that the Ribash simply didn't have access to certain teachings orally. It wasn't hesitation, but a lack of transmission. And that brings us to a crucial point: the role of tradition and direct transmission in understanding these deep mysteries.
There's even more support, too. We get another testimony from the great Gaon (a title of honor given to particularly brilliant rabbis), Rabbi Yair Chayim Bacharach, author of the Chavot Yair. He was consulted by a scholar wrestling with the call to Kabbalah. This scholar saw statements in the Zohar—that foundational text of Kabbalah—suggesting that ascending before the "Holy King" is impossible without it. But the Talmud cautioned against delving too deeply! What to do?
Rabbi Bacharach's response is fascinating: "Woe unto me if I advise you to separate from it!" He calls Kabbalah "the soul of the Torah and the root of faith," a wisdom that worthy individuals deserve to acquire. How powerful is that?
But here's where things get complicated. The author then brings up Rabbi Menachem Diunov, who defended Kabbalah against those who sought to undermine it. He pointed to a "firmly anchored peg in an iron pillar," suggesting that sometimes, refraining from seeking is rewarded more than seeking. This echoes a statement attributed to Rabbi Meir Gabbai: Anyone who hasn't received the secrets of the Torah from a teacher and tries to figure them out on their own violates the prohibition against making a graven image! Whoa.
It’s like the author is pleading, saying, “I have seen infants who have not seen light saying, 'My mother, I have seen light.'" Even brilliant scholars, locked away in their studies, can't reach the heights of enlightenment on intellect alone. It requires the guidance of an elder, a mentor.
And this idea is echoed by the Ramban (Nachmanides), a towering figure of Jewish thought, in his commentary on the Torah. He warns against erroneous thoughts and self-generated notions about the Torah’s secrets. His words, he says, can only be grasped through the teachings of a wise and accepted sage. It’s all about the mesorah, the unbroken chain of transmission.
The author anticipates the counter-argument: that the Ramban's words are short and hinted, unlike explicit Kabbalistic texts. But they point out that even in seemingly explicit texts like the Gateways of Light and the Bechayei Ketzar, the authors constantly hint and say, "And the discerning will understand." So much more so with the sealed and closed Book of Zohar!
As the introduction to Etz Chayim states, even in later generations who sustain themselves from this composition, the depths of wisdom aren't revealed through intellectual effort alone. It requires divine influence. And if they said their words wouldn't be understood, how can we, in our generation, hope to grasp the words of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, author of the Zohar, whose words are like fiery flames?
So, a warning: Don't rush to explore recent books based on human intellect alone. The author goes so far as to say that contemplating the world of Atzilut (the realm of emanation) incorrectly is a massive transgression.
While some recent Kabbalists have encouraged the study of Kabbalah, arguing that darkness prevents it and leads to exclusion, the author seems to agree... up to a point. Learning from a divine Kabbalist, like the Arizal (Rabbi Isaac Luria) taught his students, is ideal. But studying from books and understanding based on one's own intellect? The beauty of the ancient teachings is well-known, and it’s better to refrain from doing so. It's considered physically dangerous, not to mention the danger to the soul!
The recommendation? Focus on the plain meaning of Scripture and ethical rebuke, conduct ourselves in upright paths. Our knowledge is limited, and we rely on the "oil of illumination," which provides evidence to support separation, and so forth.
But then, a twist! The author has revealed their opinion, but urges us not to rely on them or anyone else. They compare studying Kabbalah to a journey to the Holy Land – a journey filled with virtue, as the Talmud says. Without Torah, one is likened to someone without a God, but one who worships idols walks merely four cubits in the Land of Israel and receives numerous praises. However, even so, the Tosafot wrote in the name of Rabbi Chaim that nowadays it is not a commandment to dwell in the Land, for there are several commandments that are dependent on the Land that we cannot fulfill. Furthermore, due to the dangers of the journey and the poverty that may lead us to act against our own conscience and the will of our Creator. And if one does not possess exceptional knowledge and utmost caution against all harm, it is good to refrain from it!
Ultimately, the author expresses perplexity at later books that include statements from the Zohar and explain them based on their own judgment. Who gave the human intellect permission to invent entities that don't exist in the first three realms and three firmaments? The Zohar itself says there's a realm beyond inquiry! And this isn't found in the Zohar, the Sefer Yetzirah (Book of Creation), or the teachings of Rabbi Moshe Cordovero, who received teachings from elders and even Elijah.
The author concludes: those young ones in the Zohar, the spirit of God spoke through them, and His word was upon their tongues. Even the Ari and his disciples, who received teachings directly from the upper realms, expressed matters that are beyond our comprehension in our studies, except for reading the words. This is not the case with those latter individuals who explain based on their own judgment.
So, where does this leave us? With a profound sense of awe and caution. Kabbalah is presented as a powerful force, but one that demands respect, humility, and, above all, a connection to the chain of tradition. It’s a reminder that some things are best approached with a teacher, a guide, someone who can help us navigate the treacherous waters of mystical experience. And maybe, just maybe, some things are best left unsaid, unspoken, residing in the realm beyond inquiry. Food for thought, isn’t it?