The Realm of the Klipot

From this shattering, 288 sparks fell, and from them a reality of evil came into being. Within this created evil there are countless distinct gradations, but broadly speaking they divide into two categories:

Evil that is purely evil, containing no good whatsoever.

Evil that contains a mixture of good, in which the good can potentially be elevated.

The prophet Yechezkel was granted a prophetic vision of the entire structure of evil—both categories. Therefore Scripture states:

“The word of G-d came to Ezekiel son of Buzi the priest, in the land of the Chaldeans, by the Chebar River; and the hand of G-d came upon him there. I looked, and behold—a storm wind came from the north, a great cloud and a fire flashing up, and a brightness (nogah) around it; and from its midst, like the color of electrum from the midst of the fire.” (Ezekiel 1:3–4)

“Storm wind,” “great cloud,” and “flashing fire”—these refer to the three klipot of total impurity, the first category of evil containing no good at all. From these emanate the vital souls of all the nations of the world12 and everything that belongs to the non-holy side—for example, foods that are outright forbidden, such as pork or orlah fruit (produce of a tree’s first three years).

“Brightness” (nogah) refers to the second category—the klipah that contains good as well. It serves as the intermediate state between the three completely impure klipot (“storm wind,” “great cloud,” “flashing fire”) and the realm of holiness. Accordingly, nogah can at times be drawn downward and absorbed into the three impure klipot, and at times be elevated and absorbed into holiness.

From Klipat Nogah flow the vital souls of the children of Israel and of all things associated with holiness—for example, foods that are permitted, such as sheep or chicken.

Let us summarize:

Through the “breaking,” sparks of holiness descended from the spiritual world of Tohu and scattered throughout existence.

Because of this, sparks of holiness became embedded within the realm of klipah. And from klipah comes the vitality of all physical things—food, objects, and everything material.

As noted, there are two basic levels of klipot: the three impure klipot, which are entirely evil, and Klipat Nogah, which contains good as well.

Anything aligned with holiness draws its vitality from Klipat Nogah, while things not aligned with holiness draw their vitality from the three impure klipot.

And G-d entrusted the children of Israel with the task of extracting the sparks from the klipot and elevating them back to their exalted root in the World of Tohu,13 thereby drawing down an exceedingly lofty light from the root and source of Tohu—and beyond that, all the way to the Infinite One.

Before we continue explaining the task entrusted to us, we will add one more important introduction…

Wellsprings of Wisdom

12. This life-force that animates the body is called by four names: the natural soul, the elemental soul, the vital soul, and the animal soul.

Each name carries real meaning—these are not mere poetic terms.

Yet despite the fact that these different titles describe merely the natural soul of a Jew, the soul of a non-Jew remains far below these levels.

In a similar vein, Rabbi David Ovadia once related (Be’rov Yo’etz, entry “Chinuch”):

A student who came from Russia once recounted an incident that left a strong impression on him during a physics lecture.

The professor had the habit of drinking. Often he would come to class having had too much to drink, yet he would still manage to teach.

The students would even learn to tell his condition from his handwriting on the board: when sober, he wrote quickly and illegibly; when not, he slowed down and wrote neatly so as not to draw attention.

One day, as he began writing carefully in his “good” handwriting, the last piece of chalk crumbled in his hand. He searched everywhere but could not find another. Finally, he asked a student in the front row to go to a nearby lecture hall and borrow a piece of chalk.

This is where the absurdity began.

The student he sent had also been drinking too much and was eager to hide it. He got up politely and walked toward the door. The lecture hall had two doors: he exited through one, walked a few steps in the hallway, and—without realizing—entered through the second door, returning to the exact same room.

Completely unaware, he approached the professor and asked, very respectfully, whether he might borrow some chalk “for the classroom next door.”

The professor—who was not in much better shape—shook his head and explained that they had none.

The student stepped back out, circled around, and returned back to his professor.

With full seriousness he reported, “They don’t have any chalk.”

The professor nodded gravely. “I know. A student from the other room was just here asking the same question—and they apparently don’t have any either!”

13. The holy Rabbi Yaakov Shimshon of Kosov was once in an unusually uplifted state after the morning Shabbat prayers.

He spoke for hours with great fervor, sharing story after story, and the people around him were so enraptured that they held onto his hand and forgot entirely about their morning meal.

When he finally finished, someone remarked that Moses’ words—“Bread I did not eat and water I did not drink” during the forty days on Sinai—were not surprising. With such spiritual delight, beholding the radiance of the Shechinah and hearing G-d’s own words, who would feel physical hunger?

Rabbi Yaakov Shimshon responded gently:

“It may be that Moses was not praising the fact that he didn’t eat or drink. Perhaps he was regretting it—thinking how many sparks he could have elevated through eating during those forty days, and how all those foods might now ‘claim’ that he did not rectify them.”

He then shared a story to illustrate the point:

Rabbi Michel, the Maggid of Zlotchov, once became gravely ill, and the doctors despaired. His son, Rabbi Mordechai, rushed to Rabbi Pinchas of Koretz to plead for help.

Before Rabbi Mordechai could even explain why he had come, Rabbi Pinchas said:

“The reason your father is ill is because of a heavenly complaint. Out of asceticism, he stopped eating cheese. And the cheese protested—because had he eaten it with holiness, he would have refined its spark and elevated it. Tell your father to accept upon himself to eat cheese again, and he will recover.”

And indeed—when Rabbi Michel accepted this upon himself, he was promptly healed (Sippurei Chassidim by Rabbi Shlomo Yosef Zevin – Torah, vol. 2, p. 229).