The Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei_Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei Zohar, a profoundly mystical companion to the Zohar itself, peeks behind the curtain. It gives us a glimpse into how the truly righteous connect with the Divine. It suggests that when God sits upon the throne, the heavenly chorus proclaims: “EL, the King, sitting upon the throne of mercy, and acting with kindness…” (based on the sliḥot, or Penitential Prayers).
But what does this mean? It's not just a nice sentiment. It’s about action, about tikkun – repair.
This particular tikkun, this act of mending the world, is reserved, according to the Tikkunei Zohar, for the "completely righteous." These are the individuals who actively "fix a throne" for the Blessed Holy One. How do they do this? Through the tzitzit and tefillin.
Let’s break that down. Tzitzit are the fringes on the corners of a prayer shawl, a visual reminder of the commandments. Tefillin are the phylacteries, the small leather boxes containing scriptural verses that are bound to the arm and head during weekday morning prayers.
The Tikkunei Zohar says that the righteous "lower Him with the phylacteries, and stand before Him in prayer." This is powerful imagery. It suggests that through these ritual acts, the righteous draw God closer, making the Divine presence more accessible to the world. They create a space, a throne, for mercy and kindness to manifest.
But what about the rest of us? What about those who aren't "completely righteous"?
Here, the text takes a turn, offering a rather sobering comparison. For "average people," it says, tzitzit and tefillin can be "like an ox to the yoke, and a donkey to its burden." Ouch.
It's not saying that these rituals are meaningless for the average person. Rather, it suggests that without the right intention, without the deep connection and understanding, these acts can become mere obligations, burdens we carry without truly internalizing their significance. They become rote, losing their power to transform us and, by extension, the world around us.
And then there's the Sabbath. The text quotes Exodus 23:12: "...in order that your ox and your donkey should rest..." What’s the connection? The implication is clear: just as we give our animals respite from their burdens, so too should we find rest from the "burden" of ritual when the Sabbath arrives. The Sabbath is a time for a different kind of connection, a connection rooted in joy, contemplation, and spiritual renewal, not just obligation.
So, what’s the takeaway? Perhaps it's a call to examine our own relationship with ritual. Are our tzitzit and tefillin a burden, or are they a bridge to something deeper? Are we merely going through the motions, or are we actively participating in the work of tikkun olam, repairing the world and drawing closer to the Divine? The Tikkunei Zohar challenges us to strive for a connection that transforms us and allows us to help create a throne of mercy and kindness in this world.