The Tikkunei Zohar, a later, deeply mystical expansion on the Zohar itself, wrestles with just that tension. It explores the idea that we’re constantly being called to choose: to embrace the spark of the divine within us, or to succumb to the more base instincts.
Imagine this: you're standing in prayer, and the words you utter are a plea. A plea not just for salvation, but for something more profound. As the Tikkunei Zohar in section 118 puts it, it's a prayer: "Blessed Holy One save us! – from the judgement of animals and beasts of the land, and enter us into the portion of the angels, who are ‘the holy beings’ – ḥayot ha-qodesh.”
Ḥayot ha-qodesh – literally, the holy living creatures. These are the angelic beings surrounding God’s throne, constantly proclaiming His holiness. The prayer is asking to be included in their chorus, to rise above the "judgement of animals and beasts." What does that mean? It means escaping the pull of our own selfish desires, our own primal urges, and instead, aligning ourselves with the divine will.
The text continues, linking this aspiration to the sanctification of God's name. When we strive for holiness, when we choose righteousness, we actively participate in making God's name holy in the world. And in doing so, we earn our place in His portion.
But the Tikkunei Zohar doesn't shy away from the tougher aspects of this divine accounting. It goes on to discuss judgement, specifically in the context of the phrase "and you will slaughter with 'this' – zeh." (1 Sam. 14:34). Zeh – this. The text cleverly connects the word zeh to a specific arrangement of Hebrew letters: ALePh DaLeT NUN YOD.
These letters, we're told, represent the divine force that judges all damages – dan – all wrongs. This force judges those who kill, those who steal, all those who inflict harm. It's a powerful image, isn't it? The divine not just as a source of mercy and love, but also as an impartial arbiter of justice.
So, what are we left with?
A challenge, I think. A constant invitation to choose the path of holiness, to strive to be among the ḥayot ha-qodesh, even while acknowledging the ever-present potential for falling short. It’s a reminder that our actions have consequences, and that the divine sees and judges all.
Perhaps the real question isn't whether we can completely escape the "judgement of animals and beasts." Maybe it's about how we navigate that tension, how we strive, day after day, to choose the higher path, to sanctify God's name through our actions, and to create a world that reflects the divine image within us all.