The Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei_Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei Zohar, a mystical extension of the Zohar itself, grapples with this very feeling. It suggests that during times of exile – not just a physical exile, but also a spiritual one – even the letters of God's name become withdrawn. They pull back, as if hiding, leaving us yearning for connection. But there's hope woven into this idea. The Tikkunei Zohar, in Tikkun 84, reminds us of the promise found in Isaiah 42:8: "I am Y”Y, that is My Name, and My glory I shall not give to another."

But what does it mean that God's glory will not be given to another? The text suggests it's a promise of eventual return, a reunion with the fullness of the Divine. It's a process, a descent of the Holy One, blessed be He, through all those withdrawn letters.

And then, like a lightning flash, we're thrown back to the very first words of creation: Be-reishyt (בראשית), “In the beginning…” (Genesis 1:1). ELQYM (אלהים), God, created…

But the Tikkunei Zohar doesn't let us simply read those words. It cracks them open, revealing a hidden question within. ELQYM, the text points out, is an anagram, a rearrangement of the letters that form MiY ELeH (מי אלה) – "Who are these?" It directly references Isaiah 40:26: "Lift up your eyes on high, and see, Who created these?"

Isn't that a profound question to ask at the very beginning of everything? Who are these creations? Who are we? It implies that creation itself is an act of inquiry, a Divine search for identity and meaning.

And then, the passage takes another unexpected turn.

"Be-REiShYT – In the Beginning." The Tikkunei Zohar tells us, "Two elders descended there, and they said: ‘We have been occupied with what you have been, and we have not been [Var. and we were not without pronoun] – and this is Beiyt❖ב△2 – two ‘beginnings.’" What on earth does this mean?

The commentary is dense, but the core idea seems to be about multiplicity and perspective. These "two elders" – perhaps representing different ways of understanding – are saying that they, too, have wrestled with the mysteries embedded within "the beginning." The letter Beiyt (ב), which begins the word Be-reishyt, is seen as representing duality, "two beginnings." It’s the idea that there isn't just one way to see the world, one single starting point.

Think about that. Right at the genesis of creation, the tradition hints at multiple perspectives, at the ongoing process of seeking and understanding. It's a reminder that even in the most fundamental of concepts, there's room for questioning, for exploration, for a continuous journey toward the Divine.

So, the next time you feel that sense of fragmentation, that feeling that something is missing, remember the promise of the Tikkunei Zohar. The letters may be withdrawn, but the potential for reunion, for wholeness, remains. The journey back to that wholeness starts with a question – a question as old as creation itself: MiY ELeH? Who are these? And what part do we play in the ongoing story of creation?