Jewish mysticism suggests that feeling might be more profound than you think. It might be a ripple of something much, much bigger.
The Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei_Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei Zohar, a central text of Kabbalah, opens a window into this idea. It speaks of the "lower waters" crying. Why are they crying? Because of the Shekhinah.
The Shekhinah (שְׁכִינָה) is often understood as the Divine Presence, the aspect of God that dwells among us, that is closest to the created world. But the Tikkunei Zohar suggests something even more intimate: the lower waters cry "for Her sake." Bereishyt Rabbah 5:4 tells us these waters are "the gates of tears." And as we learn in BT Berakhot 32b, "the gates of tears are never locked." Think about that for a moment. Never locked. Always open.
Why are these gates so perpetually open? Because, the Tikkunei Zohar continues, She – the Shekhinah – "is their tear, She is their depth assuredly." She is the embodiment of that profound sadness, that cosmic longing. She is the deep well from which all tears spring.
This is where it gets even more interesting. The text connects the Shekhinah to the Tzaddik (righteous one). The Tzaddik in relation to Her is described as dokh yam (דך ים), a "poor one – sea."
What does that mean?
The "poor one" (dakh) suggests vulnerability, need, and perhaps even suffering. The "sea" (yam), on the other hand, evokes vastness, depth, and the source of all life. The righteous one, therefore, stands before the Shekhinah as both utterly vulnerable and a boundless source of sustenance.
The text then draws on Psalms 74:21: "Let not the poor (dakh) return ashamed..." This verse echoes the plea that the vulnerable, represented by the dakh, should not be turned away empty-handed.
And then, Psalm 39:13: "... to my tear do not be silent..." A direct appeal to acknowledge and respond to the pain, the weeping, connected directly to the Shekhinah.
Finally, Exodus 3:9: "... the cry of the Children of Israel has come to Me..." The suffering of the Israelites in Egypt, their collective cry, is heard by God. The Shekhinah, as the embodiment of divine presence, is intimately connected to this cry, carrying it upwards.
What does this all mean? It suggests a profound interconnectedness between divine suffering, human suffering, and the role of the righteous. The Shekhinah embodies the pain of the world, and the Tzaddik, in their humility and righteousness, becomes a conduit for healing and redemption.
So next time you feel that deep, cosmic sadness, remember the crying of the lower waters. Remember the Shekhinah, the Divine Presence who dwells among us, feeling our pain and carrying our tears. And perhaps, in that moment of shared sorrow, we can find a spark of hope, a glimmer of redemption, and a renewed commitment to healing the world.