Jewish mysticism often explores this very idea, the hiddenness of God, the hiddenness of ourselves. And sometimes, that hiddenness is tied to moments of judgment, moments when things feel...off.

Let's dive into a fascinating little snippet from the Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei_Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei Zohar, a core text of Kabbalah that expands on the original Zohar. Here, we're exploring a verse from the Torah and a verse from Psalms, linking them to some pretty intense spiritual concepts.

The Tikkunei Zohar zeroes in on Balaam, that ambiguous prophet in the Book of Numbers. Remember him? The one hired to curse the Israelites, but who ends up blessing them instead? He says, "He has not seen sin in Jacob, nor has He seen perversity in Israel" (Num. 23:21). Seems straightforward, right? God doesn't see the Israelites' flaws. But the Tikkunei Zohar takes a sharp turn. It equates "perversity and sin" with Samael and the snake.

Whoa. Samael is often considered the angel of death or a powerful, adversarial force. And the snake? Well, that brings us right back to the Garden of Eden and the whole story of temptation and the introduction of evil into the world. So, what's the Tikkunei Zohar trying to tell us?

It suggests that even when things look rosy on the surface – when Balaam is proclaiming Israel's innocence – these darker forces are still present, lurking beneath. They are the "sin" and "perversity" that God, in a sense, chooses not to see.

But the passage doesn't stop there. It goes on to say that when these forces "oppress Her so-as-to look upon Her, She is self-concealed from everything." Who is "Her"? In Kabbalah, this often refers to the Shekhinah, the Divine Presence, the feminine aspect of God that dwells in the world. When negativity and judgment are rampant, the Shekhinah withdraws. The Divine Presence becomes hidden.

And when does this happen? “In the seventh month.” The text then quotes Psalm 81:4: "Blow the ram’s horn on the New Moon, on the appointed time for the day of our festival." Now, here's where it gets really interesting. The Tikkunei Zohar asks, "What is… 'on the appointed time' (keseh)?" And it answers: "In the month in which the moon is self-concealed (it-kasya)."

Think about that. The seventh month, Tishrei, is when we celebrate Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the High Holy Days. Rosh Hashanah, the New Year, is literally timed with the new moon – when the moon is at its darkest, most "self-concealed." Yom Kippur follows soon after, a day of intense introspection and atonement.

So, the Tikkunei Zohar is connecting the dots: the presence of negative forces, the hiding of the Divine Presence, and the time of year when we are called to look inward, to confront our own shortcomings and strive for renewal. The "self-concealment" of the moon mirrors the self-concealment of the Divine.

What does it all mean? Maybe it's a reminder that even in times of celebration and apparent blessings, we need to be aware of the shadows. That spiritual work isn't just about basking in the light, but also about confronting the darkness within ourselves and in the world. Perhaps, by acknowledging the "perversity and sin," by recognizing the forces that obscure the Divine, we can actually draw closer to the Shekhinah, to the hidden God. By blowing the shofar, by making noise, we can pierce the veil.