Jewish tradition has a way of grappling with these feelings, of acknowledging the darkness even while holding onto hope. Let's explore one small but powerful idea from the Tikkunei Zohar, a central text of Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism.

The Tikkunei Zohar speaks of a "Gate of the Righteous." Imagine a portal, shimmering with light, open only to those who have lived lives of integrity and compassion. As Psalm 118:20 says, "This is the gate of YHVH (often read as Adonai, "The Lord"); the righteous shall enter through it." This gate, the Tikkunei Zohar tells us, is connected to Yesod, the Sefirah (divine attribute) representing the "life-force of the worlds." Yesod, often personified as "the Righteous One," is the foundation upon which everything rests. It's the source of blessing and sustenance, so much so that Psalm 37:25 declares, "I have never seen a righteous one forsaken or their children begging bread." A powerful image of divine providence, right?

But here's where things get complicated, and frankly, a little heartbreaking. What happens when the world feels… less righteous? What happens when goodness seems to be losing?

The Tikkunei Zohar acknowledges this very real feeling, especially in times of exile. It quotes Isaiah 57:1: "The righteous one is perishing..." Perishing? How can that be? If Yesod is this unshakeable foundation, how can the Righteous One, the embodiment of that life-force, possibly perish?

The Tikkunei Zohar offers a stark interpretation: "Perished to the Queen." "The Queen" here is often understood as the Shekhinah, the Divine Presence, the feminine aspect of God, who dwells among us, in the world. The idea is that the Righteous One, Yesod, is diminished, as far as the Shekhinah is concerned, when exile and suffering are rampant. The flow of divine energy is somehow constricted, weakened.

The text then turns to another verse from Isaiah (19:5): "...and the river shall be parched and dried up..." This, according to the Tikkunei Zohar, alludes to the destruction of the Temples in Jerusalem. "Parched" refers to the First Temple, and "dried up" to the Second Temple. The destruction of these sacred places, the heart of Jewish life, is seen as a further diminishment of the flow, a further withering of the life-force.

So, what are we left with? A rather bleak picture, right? A gate that should be open, but feels…stuck. A river that should be flowing, but is parched. A Righteous One who is, in some sense, "perishing."

But I think that's precisely the point. The Tikkunei Zohar isn't trying to depress us. It's offering a profound and honest reflection of the human condition. It acknowledges the reality of suffering, the feeling of divine absence, the sense that goodness is under siege. By acknowledging this, by naming it, we can then begin the work of repair – the tikkun olam – of mending the brokenness in the world. Maybe, just maybe, by striving to live righteous lives, we can help reopen that gate, restore the flow, and revitalize the world around us. What do you think?