Jewish mysticism, particularly the Zohar, grapples with these very human experiences of access and rejection. Let's dive into a small but potent passage from Tikkunei_Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei Zohar 66 and see what it can teach us.
The passage begins with a somewhat cryptic verse from Ezekiel (1:8): "And the hands of a 'man' (adam) from beneath their wings..." What does this even mean? The Tikkunei Zohar immediately homes in on the word "man," or adam. It then connects it to another verse, this time from Isaiah (44:13): "...like the glory (tipheret) of a man..."
So, what's the connection? In Kabbalah, tipheret is one of the sefirot, the emanations of God, often associated with beauty, balance, and harmony. It's the heart of the Sefirotic tree. By linking adam to tipheret, the Zohar suggests that the human being, in its ideal form, reflects divine glory. We each have a spark of the divine.
But then things take a turn. The text speaks of accepting a "present" and giving it to the King – undoubtedly a metaphor for our prayers, our intentions, and our offerings to the Divine. But what happens if the gift isn't "fitting"?
Here's where it gets interesting – and a little harsh. The text says the gift is handed to "the dog," and the request is expelled "to the outside." Ouch.
What does this mean? Who is "the dog"? While not explicitly stated here, in Kabbalistic literature, the "dog" can represent forces that are impure or adversarial. It suggests that if our offering isn't sincere, isn't aligned with true intention, it might be intercepted by negative forces. It doesn't reach the King.
And then comes the most poignant part: "For there are those for whom the gates do not open..." This speaks to the experience of feeling shut out, of not being able to connect with the Divine. The verse from Deuteronomy (24:11) reinforces this: "Outside you shall stand..."
Imagine the scene: you're standing outside, hoping for an audience, hoping for a blessing. The King, representing the Divine, speaks with you – but outside. Your request is granted, but only from a distance. You get what you need, but not the intimacy, not the closeness you crave.
Why? The Tikkunei Zohar doesn't explicitly say. But the implication is clear: something is blocking the way. Perhaps it's a lack of sincerity, a misalignment of intention, or unresolved inner conflict. Maybe we need to refine our offering, to purify our intentions, before we can truly enter the King's presence.
This short passage offers a powerful reminder. It's not enough to simply go through the motions. Our prayers, our actions, our very lives must be infused with kavanah, with heartfelt intention. We must strive to align ourselves with tipheret, with the inherent glory within us, so that our gifts may be received, and the gates may finally open. Are we truly ready to enter? What gift do we bring?