This is a tricky concept, one that's tripped up even seasoned students of Kabbalah. We're diving deep into the nature of the Divine, grappling with ideas about creation, generation, and what it truly means to be "first."
The question at hand is: why doesn't Adam Kadmon – the primordial man, a concept representing the totality of divine attributes – need to receive authority from a higher Adam Kadmon, or even from A"S (likely an abbreviation for Ein Sof, the Infinite), which is considered even higher? It sounds like a technicality, but it gets to the heart of understanding the relationship between the emanations of God.
Now, our author brings up a sensitive point. He references the Sefer HaBrit, the Book of the Covenant, and words from Yeshurun Levav, suggesting that the familiar name of God we utter, and even the sacred name YHVH (often referred to as the Tetragrammaton), refer to Zeir Anpin, the "Small Face," one of the central Sephirot, or divine attributes. He hesitates to quote directly because, he says, some might misunderstand and consider it heretical. Ouch! But he insists this idea aligns with the beliefs of all Kabbalists.
To bolster his point, he turns to Bereishit Rabbah and Midrash Rabbah, foundational Midrashic texts. We find a fascinating passage: "For everything that exists, there are generations of the heavens and the earth… Mountains have their generations… Rain has its generations… Dew has its generations…" Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish even says, "These are the legs of the dew!" What does this all mean?
The Midrash continues, "Anyone who has generations dies and is renewed, while I create, and anyone who does not have generations neither dies nor is renewed." Rabbi Azariah, in the name of Rabbi, clarifies that the one who creates but is not created applies to the "higher realm."
So, what are these "generations?" Rabbi Etz Yosef explains that death and renewal aren't just about ceasing to exist and then being reborn. Death, in this context, signifies a loss, a diminution. Renewal is about rejuvenation while still existing. Everything constantly diminishes, were it not for God renewing it daily.
Think about it: the world is in constant flux. We are in constant flux. Only the Divine is truly unchanging.
The key takeaway is this: entities described in the Zohar and by Kabbalists as having "generations" – meaning they undergo transitions and require sustenance – cannot be considered the sole "Creator." Why? Because if something has generations, it implies a cause for its existence. It's contingent. It's possible.
Our blessed God, however, has no preceding cause. He is the sole cause for all of creation. Maimonides, the Rambam, emphasizes this point in Hilchot Yesodei HaTorah: God is the Primordial Being, and everything else is not. He is the One without a beginning.
Therefore, it's inaccurate to attribute the title of "God" or "Creator" to any of the faces or manifestations of the Divine, because each has a cause that preceded it. Even expressions like "Father" and "Mother," as used in Kabbalah, are not the ultimate source. The Mishnat Chassidim and the tractate Nedarim both refer to the Almighty as the Primordial Being.
Each of these manifestations is called "The Lord of Hosts," "YHVH," "Adonai," "The Holy One, Blessed be He," and other divine names. But when you carefully examine the writings, especially if you study with understanding, you’ll see that even when they use terms like "Father" or "Our Father," they are ultimately referring to the Almighty as the Primordial Being (Arich Anpin) who redeemed us from Egypt.
The text ends with a fascinating, almost conspiratorial whisper. It suggests that some might mistakenly believe in a singular deity ("Eloah Achad"), contrary to the teachings of our Sages. They might even believe that other gods rule over the holy gods – the Father, Mother, Ze'ir Anpin, and Nukva – from whom the Primordial Being (Arich Anpin) redeemed them.
It's a complex, multi-layered understanding of the Divine, one that challenges simple, anthropomorphic interpretations and pushes us to grapple with the infinite and the unknowable. Ultimately, it’s a call to deeper, more nuanced understanding of Jewish mysticism and its profound implications. And perhaps, a warning against simplistic readings of complex ideas.