When it cannot achieve its perfect form, the A Bao A Qu suffers great pain, and its moaning is a barely perceptible murmur similar to the whisper of silk. But when the man or woman that revives the creature is filled with purity, the A Bao A Qu is able to reach the topmost step, completely formed and radiating a clear blue light.
—Borges, The Book of Imaginary Beings
Transmitting Secrets: Concealing the Concealment
I commence with a generalization the validity of which must be illustrated from particular instantiations:
eroticism and esotericism converge at the point of their divergence.
Or, so it might seem, as eroticism ostensibly exposes the concealed and esotericism conceals the exposed.
However, this contrast does not engender divergence as much as difference that suggests its own sameness in being different. Alternatively expressed, exposure of the concealed and concealment of the exposed ought not be seen as binary opposites; hermeneutically, exposure is the most exposed concealment, and concealment the most concealed exposure. To attend this paradox is to ascertain that the exposed is precisely what is concealed in being exposed as what is concealed, an inherent duplicity that renders every act of uncovering a recovery, every act of undressing a redressing.
It should be obvious that in this doubly concealed concealment, the exposure of exposing, one can discern something resonant with the nature of eros.
It is reasonable to presume that the elusive manner of divulging secrets through allusion satisfied a psychological need to reveal and a religious obligation to conceal, that is, to reveal in such a way that the revealing would conceal what was revealed at the same time that the concealing would reveal what was concealed.[1] As Abraham Abulafia succinctly expressed the matter, “the way of the mouth is to reveal the hidden and to conceal the revealed (legalot ha-nistar u-lekhassot ha-nigleh).”[2]
[3]In the context of writing about the mystical significance of the cloud into which God descended and through which the glory was revealed to Moses, the anonymous kabbalist notes, “we mentioned it here as an allusion from the allusions of its secret (be-remez mi-rimzei sodo) in order to hide it (lema'an hastiro).”[4] In other passages from this treatise, the written transmission of secrets through allusion is justified by the anxiety of loss, a fear that the traditions would be forgotten.[5] The comment that I cited, however, pinpoints the paradox at a more poignant spot of juxtaposition: disclosure through allusion serves the twofold purpose of revealing what is concealed, and concealing what is revealed. Thus the secret telling of secrets—in the idiom of Maimonides,communicating truth in flashes[6]—enables one to divulge mystical truths to worthy recipients while keeping them hidden from the unworthy. In a second extract, the practice of speaking secretly embraces a profounder sense of dissembling. Commenting on the words of Moses to Pharaoh, “we shall not know with what we are to worship the Lord until we arrive there” (Exod 10:26), the anonymous kabbalist writes: “He did not mention a specific place, a celebrated country, a recognized city, nor a disclosed location that is known to any man, but he simply said ‘there.’ He concealed his knowledge from everyone, and he revealed it, and publicized it to everyone (histir yedi ato me-ha-kol we-gillah otto u-fi rsamo la-kol ).”[7] How can we make sense of the assertion that Moses at the same time concealed and revealed his knowledge from everyone? To be sure, a more politically oriented form of esotericism, to which I have briefly alluded, turns on adopting a way of communication that reveals the secret to some and hides it from others, but this does not fit the description of Moses concealing and revealing knowledge indiscriminately to everyone. Clearly, from the standpoint of a binary logic, this is illogical — one either conceals or reveals, one cannot both conceal and reveal at the same time and in the same correlation. And yet, it is exactly this coincidence that we must take up, if we are to comprehend a paradox that has informed kabbalistic thinking on this matter. In this essay, I will not rehash the various assumptions inherent in the duplicitous nature of the secret, a strategy deployed adroitly in the different trends of kabbalah, a topic I have discussed at length elsewhere.[8]
Instead, I will mark more carefully the spot where the erotic and esoteric crisscross, so that we may better ascertain the manner in which the secrecy of eros can be discerned from the eros of secrecy, and the eros of secrecy from the secrecy of eros, a reciprocity that prompts a doubling of vision, a re/vision, a secreting of the secret, a concealing of the concealment, the mystery revealed in the veiling of its unveiling.
The central place accorded the erotic in kabbalistic teaching is a theme that has been well studied by scholars. I do not think it is an exaggeration to say that at the very center of the kabbalists’ vision — and here, again, I see little value in making distinctions along typological lines, as the central place accorded the erotic is something shared by kabbalists from the different groups, classified by the dominant nomenclature of contemporary scholarship as theosophic and prophetic, even if we readily admit that the depiction of eros is not monolithic — is an appreciation of eros as imparting, to borrow the evocative terminology of George Steiner, a grammar of being.[9] More specific to the mythopoetic sensibility cultivated by many kabbalists is an envisioning of God’s unity in heteroerotic terms, an onto-theological assumption that undergirds the positive valorization of sex as a theurgic means to maintain the balance of forces in the divine and, by extension, in the universe. I am quick to add, however, that the theurgical cannot be separated from the deeply sexual nature of the mystical experience attested in kabbalistic literature. This is not to say that traditional kabbalah celebrates the sexual as such, but, rather, that the modes of rhetoric enlisted to describe the inner workings of the divine, and to account for the ecstatic experiences therewith, are infused with tropes of sexuality.[10] Indeed, even gestures of ascetic renunciation, which may be excavated from kabbalistic sources, are expressions of the erotic. As we find in other forms of mystical spirituality, so too in various currents of medieval kabbalah, the intensity of desire is to be measured by the desire not to desire, the most passionate of passions by the passion to be dispassionate. [11] From a kabbalistic standpoint, contemplative envisioning of God revolves about the belonging-together, or the laying in proximity, of intercourse and discourse, not only two predominant modalities that structure human experience, as Steiner appreciated, but also two forms that indicate the nature of the divine being, and, indeed, the nature of being more generally.[12] The language of eros, one might say, reverberates with the eros of language. As kabbalists have repeatedly taught, the letter is the sign of the flesh that is the flesh of the sign. Inscribed therein, one knows the way.
Decoding Esotericism: Silence of Not-Speaking
The path I shall follow begins by attending the link between transmission of the mystery and the verbal gesticulation of the murmur, a course determined by the further assumption that, in the point of their meeting, one may fathom a significant facet of the eroticism that informed kabbalistic doctrine and practice. The link is attested in the rabbinic principle that a matter received in a whisper, even if derived exegetically from a scriptural prooftext, must be conveyed in a whisper.[13] Especially important in this regard is the talmudic interpretation of the expression nevon lachash (Isa 3:3), which contextually denotes an expert in charms, as one who has the capacity of understanding one thing from another and, therefore, is worthy of receiving “words of Torah that are given in a whisper (be-la ash).” [14] The whisper hovers between speech and speechlessness, as it is a verbal act, but one that, nonetheless, remains inaudible except to the person to whom it is directly communicated. It is worth noting, in passing, that a manner of silent oration — qol dimmat elohim, a locution likely based on the expression qol demamah daqqah in 1 Kings 19:12 to which I shall return below — is associated already in some Qumran fragments with angelic speech.[15] Further evidence for the depiction of the liturgical utterance of angels as silent language may be educed from the Aramaic targum (traditionally ascribed to Jonathan ben Uziel) on the aforementioned phrase from 1 Kings 19:12, qal dimeshabbe in ba-ashai, the “voice of those who utter praise silently.” To utter praise silently is to execute a form of speech that is at the same time silence, to speak and not speak concomitantly, to speak by not speaking, not to speak by speaking. It is reasonable to surmise, though I cannot prove my conjecture, that at some point the characterization of the angelic mode of liturgical utterance was appropriated and utilized to depict the form of secret talk by which human beings should propagate esoteric wisdom. This surmise is enhanced by the further presumption that angels are privy to cosmological and theological mysteries known to God and on rare occasions revealed to extraordinary human beings, the righteous souls who are transformed and attain an angelic status.
Be that as it may, the emphasis on this form of entrusting secrets is all the more striking in light of the fact that the demand to be utterly silent, as opposed to speaking silently, is not unknown in Jewish mysticism, not to mention mystical literature produced in other contexts wherein the apophatic ascent leads the mind to what can be neither known nor spoken.[16] If the most serious matters are, as Plato intimated, to remain unspoken (and this includes both verbal and written communication), then it is precisely by not speaking that these matters may be delivered.
The unspeakable, in a word, is transmitted without being spoken, for if spoken, it is not the unspeakable that has been transmitted.[17]Although Plato seemed to be especially anxious about the written dissemination of secrets, for, as commonsense dictates, what has been committed to writing cannot be unconditionally controlled,[18] a concern later expressed by Maimonides as well,[19] his philosophical esotericism runs deeper, as he apparently felt that certain topics should not be communicated by either oral or written means.
Note 1:
Why would it be any different if the secret is oral. It is just as open to interpretation according to the environmental circumstances?
Here it is beneficial to recall the words attributed to Aqiva, “silence is a fence for wisdom.”[20] Aqiva’s dictum, which may have been inspired textually by Proverbs 17:28, is not connected to esotericism, even though he is portrayed in other contexts as adept in mystical secrets, the most well-known in the rabbinic tale of the four sages who entered Pardes.[21] I do not think, however, that it is implausible to suggest that the requirement to be silent with respect to secrets promulgated by other rabbinic sages can be seen as a specifi c application of a more general pietistic sensibility regarding the nexus between wisdom and silence.
Thus, for example, we find the following interpretation of “The glory of God is to conceal a matter, and the glory of kings is to search out a matter” (kevod elohim haster davar u-khevod melakhim aqor davar) (Prov 25:2) transmitted in the name of R. Levi: “ ‘The glory of God is to conceal the matter’ — before the world was created. ‘And the glory of kings is to search out the matter’ — after the world was created.”[22] From this exegetical gloss, we may glean evidence that it is appropriate to be silent with regard to the most profound mysteries, secrets that relate to the divine nature prior to creation. The admonition is reiterated in a second tradition preserved in the name of R. Levi, explaining why the world was created with beit, the second letter of the Hebrew alphabet, but the first letter of bereshit, the word with which the Torah begins:
“Just as beit is closed on all its sides but open from one side, so you have no permission to seek out what is above, below, before, or after, but only from the day the word was created and forward.”[23] The reticence to divulge secrets about the account of creation (ma'aseh bereshit) is affirmed as well with respect to secrets about the account of the chariot (ma'aseh merkavah), two central taxonomies employed by rabbinic scribes to circumscribe the contours of esoteric wisdom.
For example, we find the following teaching attributed to R. Aabar Jacob:
There is another firmament above the heads of the beasts, as it is written, “Above the heads of the creatures was a form: an expanse, with an awe-inspiring gleam as of crystal” (Ezek 1:22). Until here you have permission to talk, but from there and beyond you have no permission to speak, as it is written in the book of Ben Sira, “Do not seek out what is too enigmatic for you and do not investigate what is concealed from you.” Contemplate that for which you have permission, but you have no business being occupied with hidden matters.[24]
In the same section of the Babylonian Talmud, there is another rabbinic dictum that makes a comparable point about the exposition of matters pertaining to the chariot: “It has been taught with respect to them, ‘Honey and milk are under your tongue’ (Song 4:11), matters that are sweeter than honey and milk should be under the tongue.”[25] A similar outlook is expressed in what appears to be a later scribal interpolation that serves as the opening of Heikhalot Zutarti,[26] a textual unit from the corpus of ancient merkavah mysticism: “Do not investigate the words of your lips, contemplate what is in your heart, and be silent, so that you will merit the beauties of the chariot.”[27] Bracketing the provenance of this interpolation, the critical point is that attested therein is the avowal of silent contemplation as the appropriate means to occasion a vision of the divine throne.
The need for silence with respect to esoteric matters is reiterated in a passage from the first part of the ancient cosmological work Sefer Yetsirah (a composition that is better described as an aggregate of disparate parts that were assembled over a lengthy period of time and eventually redacted into a text, but still one whose boundaries remained porous),[28] where the word belimah in the expression eser sefirot belimah is rendered midrashically as belom pikha mi-ledabber belom libbekha mi-leharher, “close your mouth from speaking and stop your heart from thinking.”[29] We
may presume that encoded here is a code of esotericism — perhaps, as has been suggested, an oath of secrecy, alluded to as well in the continuation of the passage where reference is made to a covenant (berit) that is decreed in relation to this affair[30]—which impels the initiate not to discourse about or to meditate on the sefirot excessively, a stance that was linked by kabbalists at a later period to the verse already crucial to the talmudic tradition mentioned above, kevod elohim haster davar, “The glory of God is to conceal a matter” (Prov 25:2).[31] To cite one of numerous examples, the thirteenth-century kabbalist, Azriel of Gerona, commenting on the aforementioned directive in Sefer Yetsirah, remarks that “even with respect to what you have permission to contemplate, ‘Do not allow your mouth to cause your flesh to sin’ (Eccles 5:5), for it says ‘The glory of God is to conceal the matter.’”[32] It is possible to interpret this statement politically, that is, silence is necessary to prevent the transmission of secrets to those who are not fit to receive them, a form of esotericism at work, for instance, in the thought of Maimonides.[33] However, it is equally feasible that the issue here is not political, but rather epistemological and ontological, that is, the need to be silent rests on the surmise that the secrets portend the inherently inscrutable dimensions of divine reality, even if permission has been granted to contemplate them. Indeed, the contemplation thereof leads one to the discernment that these are matters beyond comprehension.
The citation from Ecclesiastes is also significant, as it brings together indiscretion of the mouth and sin of the flesh. In the medieval kabbalistic imaginary, especially pronounced in zoharic kabbalah,[34] the reserve to hide secrets is juxtaposed to the modesty of covering the genitals, for the inappropriate disclosure of esoteric wisdom is on a par with sexual improprieties.[35] Thus, according to one zoharic passage, R. Isaac applied the scriptural idiom of the mouth causing the sin to flesh to the transgression of explicating matters of the Torah that one did not receive directly from his master, an indiscretion that is linked as well, both thematically and exegetically, to the prohibition against making idols and/or worshipping images.[36]
The nexus between these two elements comes to the fore in the following interpretation of the aforecited verse from Proverbs attributed to R. Chiyya in a zoharic homily: “The glory of God is to the conceal a matter,” for a man does not have permission to reveal hidden matters that were not transmitted to be revealed, matters that the Ancient of Days covers, as it says “that they may eat their fill and clothe themselves elegantly (Isa 23:18).” “That they may eat their fill,” to the place for which there is permission, and not more. And “clothe themselves elegantly” (we-limekhasseh attiq), surely [these words must be applied] to what the Ancient One (attiq) covers (mekhasseh).[37]
The zoharic interpretation of the key term we-limekhasseh attiq is based on the midrashic rendering attested in the talmudic dictum, “What is [the meaning of] we-limekhasseh attiq? The one who covers matters that the Ancient of Days (attiq yomin) covered. And what are they? Secrets of Torah.”[38] In the zoharic context, the Ancient of Days is one of the technical designations of Keter, the first of the ten emanations. From the exegesis transmitted in the name of R. Chiyya, it would seem that these secrets must always be concealed in emulation of the aspect of the Godhead that covers them, the terminus beyond the place about which there is permission to investigate and to converse. This suggestion is supported by the continuation of the zoharic text in which another explanation is offered, an explanation that, I suggest, challenges the perspective implied in the words attributed to R. Chiyya.
Another explanation: “That they may eat their fill,” these are the comrades who know the ways and paths to go in the way of faith, as is appropriate, like the generation in which R. Simeon dwells. Gam“And the Ancient One covers,” this refers to other generations, for they are not worthy to eat or to drink, or for words to be revealed in their midst. Rather, “and the Ancient One covers,” as it is said, “Do not allow your mouth to cause your flesh to sin” (Eccles 5:5). In the days of R. Simeon, a man would say to his neighbour, “Open your mouth and let your words shine.”[39] After he departed, they would say, “Do not allow your mouth [to cause your flesh to sin].” In his days, “that the may eat their fill,” after he departed, “and the Ancient One covers.” For the comrades were stammering, and the words were not established.[40]
According to this textual layer, a distinction must be made between the status of esoteric knowledge when Simeon ben Yoai is alive and its status after he has expired. In his presence, the code of secrecy could be disbanded, as the master elevates the stature of all those who live in his time, but with his absence the mysteries that were revealed have to be hidden again. This aspect of the zoharic hermeneutic of secrecy has been duly noted in previous scholarship, with particular attention paid to the messianic implications implied thereby,[41] but I wish to focus on the view preserved in the name of R. Chiyya. It seems to me that that this view is reiterated in the explication of the phrase from Isaiah 23:18 proffered at the end of the passage: “Another explanation: ‘That they may eat their fill,’ in those matters that were revealed; ‘and the Ancient One covers,’ in those matters that are covered.”[42] Some matteGamrs may be revealed, other matters must be concealed. These are secrets that forever elude our grasp, even in the generation of the supreme master of esoteric lore.
Footnotes
I have articulated the paradoxical hermeneutic of esotericism in many of my previous publications. For example, see Wolfson, Occultation of the Feminine; Abraham Abulafia, 9–38; “Divine Suffering,” 110–115; Language, Eros, Being, 17–19, 27, 134–135, 222–224, 232–233, 262, 287, 363. The tension between disclosure and concealment in zoharic kabbalah has been explored as well by Liebes, Studies in the Zohar, 26–30. I note, finally, that this dialectic was also a critical aspect of Gershom Scholem’s orientation, although there are important differences between our approaches and the respective theoretical frameworks that we adopt. Here I simply note that Scholem, in contrast to Liebes, expressed in creative ways an irresolvable tension between the urge to communicate secrets and the apparent impossibility to do so without rendering the esotericism inauthentic. Liebes, by contrast, entertains that kabbalists, at least from the zoharic circle, affirmed the communication of the non-communicable. On Scholem’s linguistic mysticism and his approach to symbolism, see Biale, Gershom Scholem, 89–92. Most tellingly, as part of his wrestling with the possibility of an esoteric term 147–162. ↩︎
Abulafia, Mafteach ha-Ra'ayon, 69. ↩︎
A version of the complete text is extant in MS Oxford, Bodleian Library, 2396, fols. 1b–63b. I am presently preparing an annotated edition based primarily on this manuscript, though I am utilizing as well fragments of the work found in other manuscripts. The composition has been previously mentioned by a number of scholars. See Scholem, On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism, 188; Kabbalah, 61 (in that context, Scholem identifies the zaqen as Moses); Idel, Golem, 111–12; “Introduction,” 36; Wolfson, Through a Speculum, 284 n. 50; Beyond the Spoken Word, 182–184 and the relevant notes; Abrams, The Shekhinah Prays, 531–532. ↩︎
MS Oxford, Bodleian Library 2396, fol. 3b. ↩︎
Ibid., fols. 7a, 51b–52a, 62b, and see Wolfson, Beyond the Spoken Word, 183–184. The rationale for committing esoteric matters to writing in order to prevent forgetfulness is not unique to this text. See, for instance, Abulafia, Oar Eden Ganuz, 179: “Our intention in this book is to make known in it matters that have been received from the prophets that have been forgotten from a long time ago since they were not written in books.” Abulafia’s remark echoes the opinion expressed by Maimonides, Guide, I.71, 176; III: Introduction, 415. ↩︎
Maimonides, Guide, I: Introduction, 7–8; I.34, 78. ↩︎
MS Oxford, Bodleian Library 2396, fol. 9a. ↩︎
See references cited above, n. 1. ↩︎
Steiner, After Babel, 39–40. See ibid., 61–64, where kabbalah is discussed explicitly by the author. ↩︎
My understanding of the correlation of the sacred and sexual, the mystical and erotic, resonates with the view espoused by Kripal in his writings, especially Kali’s Child and Roads of Excess. ↩︎
For more extensive discussion, see Wolfson, Language, Eros, Being, 296–371. ↩︎
See above, n. 8 and the brief discussion in Language, Eros, Being, 118. ↩︎
Genesis Rabbah 1:3, 19–20, and parallel sources cited on 19, n. 10; Altmann, A Note on the Rabbinic Doctrine of Creation; Scholem, Jewish Gnosticism, 58; Wolfson, Beyond the Spoken Word, 173–175; Language, Eros, Being, 521 n. 135. ↩︎
Babylonian Talmud, Hagigah 14a. See also Idel, Secrecy, Binah and Derishah, 319 and 326. For a review of the role of secrets in the rabbinic notion of revelation, but without any sustained discussion of the whisper, see Bockmuehl, Revelation and Mystery, 104–123. ↩︎
See Newsom, Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice, 303–307, 312–314; Allison, The Silence of Angels, 189–197. See also the analysis of Paul’s reference to the worshipper conversant in the “tongues of angels” (1 Cor 14:2) in Bockmuehl, Revelation and Mystery, 168–170. ↩︎
For a comparative analysis of this theme, see Williams, Denying Divinity, 84–92, 101–104, 128–134. See also the sources cited in Wolfson, Language, Eros, Being, 422 n. 247. ↩︎
See the illuminating discussion in Rhodes, Eros, Wisdom, and Silence, 25–31, 110–112, 167–175, 534–539. ↩︎
See Stroumsa, Hidden Wisdom, 148 and references to other scholars cited in nn. 7–8 ad locum. ↩︎
Maimonides, Guide, I.71, 176. Commenting on the rabbinic dictum that it is prohibited to put down in writing words that were communicated orally (Babylonian Talmud, Gi¢¢in 60b), Maimonides wrote that “it was meant to prevent what has ultimately come about in this respect: I mean the multiplicity of opinion, the variety of schools, the confusions occurring in the expression of what is put down in writing, the negligence that accompanies what is written down, the divisions of the people, who are separated into sects, and the production of confusion with regard to actions.” ↩︎
Mishnah, Avot 3:13; Avot de-Rabbai Natan, version A, ch. 26, 82. On the benefit of silence for physical well-being, see the tradition transmitted in the name of Simeon ben Gamliel in Mishnah, Avot 1:16; Avot de-Rabbi Natan, version A, ch. 22, 75; Babylonian Talmud, Pesaim 99a. ↩︎
The bibliography related to this talmudic tale is rather substantial, and here I will mention only one useful source that incorporates references to various other studies: Bregman, Introduction. ↩︎
Palestinian Talmud, Chagigah 2:1, 77c. For an alternative version of this teaching, see Genesis Rabbah 9:1, 67–68. ↩︎
Palestinian Talmud, Chagigah 2:1, 77c. Cf. Pesiqta Rabbati, 21:52, 502. For the later reverberation of this aggadic motif in the Sefer ha-Bahir, one of the early textual repositories of kabbalistic teaching, see Wolfson, Alef, Mem, Tau, 124–125. ↩︎
Babylonian Talmud, Chagigah 13a. ↩︎
Ibid. ↩︎
Scholem, Jewish Gnosticism, 77, already surmised that the remarks at the beginning of Heikhalot Zutarti “may not constitute an original part of the Urform of the book.” ↩︎
Schäfer, Synopse zur Hekhalot-Literatur, §335, 142–143. The thematic link between this passage and the text from Sefer Yetsirah was previously noted by Elior in her annotated edition of Hekhalot Zutarti, 60 n. 3. ↩︎
For a more detailed discussion with reference to other scholarly treatments, see Wolfson, Text, Context, and Pretext, 218–228. ↩︎
There are a number of variants connected to this passage including a reversal of the order of the two phrases “mouth” and “heart.” For references see Gruenwald, A Preliminary Critical Edition, 142 (section 5); Hayman, Sefer Yetzira, 72–74. ↩︎
Gruenwald, Some Critical Notes, 490. See, more recently, Liebes, Ars Poetica in Sefer Yetsira, 55–56. ↩︎
The verse was utilized by other masters of esoteric lore in the Jewish middle ages. See, for instance, the very beginning of Eleazar of Worms, Sodei Razayya ha-Shalem, This part of the text was previously published in the compedium of magical and mystical texts, Sefer Raziel, 7b. ↩︎
Azriel of Gerona, Perush le-Sefer Yetzirah, 2:456. The comment of Azriel seems to have been inspired by a section from Sefer ha-Bahir. See Abrams, The Book Bahir, §§32–33, 135–137; and brief analysis in Wolfson, Alef, Mem, Tau, 235 n. 32. The bahiric passage is cited together with the interpretation of Proverbs 25:2 in the dictum attributed to R. Levi in the Palestinian Talmud (see above, n. 13) in odros Abulafia, Sha'ar ha-Razim, 46. ↩︎
Wolfson, Abraham Abulafi a, 38–52. For the possible influence of Avicenna on Maimonides, see Klein-Braslavy, King Solomon and Philosophical Esotericism, 100. ↩︎
Liebes, Studies in the Zohar, 24–26, 30. ↩︎
It should be noted that also attested in other passages from the zoharic text is the moralistic interpretation of Ecclesiastes 5:5, which explains the mouth causing the flesh to sin as lewd speech that may lead a man to illicit sexual behavior. See Zohar 1:8a; Zohar Hadash, 60d–61a. ↩︎
Zohar 2:87a. See Liebes, Studies in the Zohar, 24. For a more extensive discussion on idolatry in this literary setting, see Wolfson, Iconicity of the Text. ↩︎
Zohar 3:105b. ↩︎
Babylonian Talmud, Pesaim 119a. See as well Zohar 3:28a (Ra aya Meheimna); Moses de León, Sefer ha-Mishkal, 49. ↩︎