The Jewish mystical tradition, particularly the Zohar, offers some pretty mind-blowing ideas about that.
Today, we're diving into a small but potent passage from Tikkunei Zohar 34 – a section that unpacks the very architecture of justice and righteousness in the universe.
The passage starts by mapping out these concepts onto the Sefirot – those divine attributes or emanations that make up the Kabbalistic Tree of Life. “Judgement,” it says, is Gevurah, that aspect of divine power that sets boundaries and limits. Justice? That’s the “Middle Pillar,” or Tipheret, which represents balance and harmony. And Righteousness, or tzedek in Hebrew? That’s the “holy kingdom,” or Malkhut – the manifestation of divinity in the world around us.
It goes on, linking these abstract ideas to very practical, earthly things, quoting Leviticus 19:36: "Scales of righteousness…" These are connected to “two pillars of truth," Netzaḥ and Hod, representing endurance and splendor. And the "hin of righteousness…" (a liquid measure used in the Temple) points to the "sign of the covenant," or Yesod. All of this, the text implies, is meant to show us how the world is governed on a deeper level.
But here’s where it gets really interesting. The Tikkunei Zohar immediately throws a curveball. It states, "But not that You have any specific righteousness – which is 'judgement', and no specific justice – which is 'mercy'. And none of any of these attributes at all."
Whoa. What does that mean?
It suggests that the Divine isn’t bound by our limited understandings of justice and righteousness. God transcends these attributes as we perceive them. God isn’t just about strict judgment (Gevurah) or just about unbounded mercy. God is both, and neither, simultaneously. This challenges our human tendency to put things in boxes, to define and limit the infinite.
Think about it: Can we truly grasp divine justice with our finite minds? The Zohar seems to be saying: "Don’t even try to put God in a box. It's much bigger than that."
The passage ends with a dramatic call to action: "Rise Rabbi Shim’on! And may words be innovated by your hand! For behold you have permission [Var. it is given to you], to reveal hidden secrets by your hand, that for which permission to reveal was not given to any person, until now."
This is a direct address to Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, the sage traditionally credited with authoring the Zohar itself. It’s like saying, "Okay, Rabbi Shimon, it's your turn to unlock the deepest mysteries." It highlights the idea that some knowledge is reserved for those who are spiritually ready to receive it, and that even within the tradition, there are levels of insight that are only revealed at certain times and to certain individuals.
So, what does this all mean for us today? Maybe it's a reminder that our understanding of justice and righteousness is always evolving. Maybe it's an invitation to grapple with the paradoxes inherent in the Divine. Or maybe, just maybe, it's a call to rise to the occasion, like Rabbi Shimon, and seek out the hidden secrets of the universe. What if we, too, have permission to innovate, to reveal, to understand just a little bit more?