When there is an awakening to the lack of ability to feel, then you feel the weight of the yoke—of what is required of you. Then you start to ask.
Passover is a meeting point that evolved humanity into the state of recognizing what true freedom is. There is a choice not to live under the imprisonment of the law of the will to receive to oneself. On Passover we have a unique opportunity to ask to reveal the goodness that was hidden in creation so that we can pull the curtain up on that reality. This is an offer of redemption for all of humanity.

Night is associated with exile, lack and the awareness that something essential is still missing.

Rather than seeing this state as a problem, the teaching suggests that most of our true participation in spiritual work comes דווקא from the want, the deficiency and the recognition of distance from the light.

Those who work from the consciousness of exile toward redemption remain in motion, while those who believe they already understand and possess the light may lose the need that drives transformation. Concealment is described as an essential principle of creation rather than a punishment. The “night” creates the conditions through which a path to revelation can emerge. The discussion points to biblical and mystical examples where revelation is preceded by concealment, suggesting that spiritual growth requires accepting what is hidden rather than demanding immediate clarity. In this sense, working at night means learning to cultivate a relationship with what cannot yet be seen, trusting that concealment itself is part of the process that prepares the vessel for light. The teaching also connects night with surrender and a different mode of perception.

During sleep, when the spirit is less confined by the body, a person may gain access to insights that cannot be reached through ordinary daytime consciousness. More broadly, the work of concealment involves learning to restrain the will to receive for oneself through intention and the screen. The measure to which a person can conceal self-interest, the discussion suggests, is the measure by which revelation becomes possible. Because this work cannot be sustained alone, it requires a group—a shared vessel capable of carrying the journey from exile toward redemption and from night toward day.

Belief is the agreement to listen and to be part of a Higher Mind. That which decides that it wishes is a sentiment, the vessel, but faith or belief is beyond that—this is true intelligence. 

People who insist on being reasonable refuse to go above their reason to a higher mind, the true intelligence, so they stay reasonable but not intelligent. This is blind faith, where a person is too lazy to struggle and they say to themselves, "Well, let's not deal with it. Let's say I believe in it." Those who go above their reason are intelligent, and then reason can come as a result.

Yesterday’s belief is today’s reason.

This is the meaning of the study: to pull intelligence in order to be able or not to be able to understand it, or to reason it, or even to start to have a feeling of the borders of it. Every time we have a revelation, we meet the border of our consciousness—the border of what we are able to see in ourselves.

Rabbah Saphir Noyman Eyal and Rabbi David Ingber discuss the profound influence of Baal HaSulam on Rabbah's Kabbalistic studies and teachings. Rabbah explains that Baal HaSulam's interpretation of Kabbalah is often misunderstood, particularly in popularized centers, where it is stripped of its deeper meanings. She emphasizes that his teachings, which combine the heart-centered approach of Baal Shem Tov with the intellectual rigor of HaARI, offer a holistic understanding of humanity's relationship with the Creator. Baal HaSulam's focus on materialistic psychology resonates with the current generation, aiming to awaken the 'point in the heart', the spiritual consciousness that seeks liberation from the ego's captivity.

The Role of Kabbalah in Self-Discovery

When asked what Kabbalah offers to modern seekers, Rabbah emphasizes that Kabbalah reveals uncomfortable truths about oneself rather than about God. She explains that studying Kabbalah requires surrendering to the reality of the ego and recognizing that we operate primarily through self-interest, even in acts of kindness. The goal of Kabbalistic study is not to gain intellectual understanding but to shape one's identity and spirit through patient engagement with the light. This process, according to Rabbah, involves an ongoing practice of surrendering one's ego, although it may take years to fully comprehend this surrender and its implications.

Kabbalah vs. Buddhism: Expanding the Ego for Spiritual Growth

Rabbah contrasts the goals of Kabbalah and Buddhism, noting that while Buddhism aims to dissolve the ego, Kabbalah seeks to grow and expand it. In Kabbalah, a larger ego allows for greater capacity to connect with others and receive divine light. The key difference lies in Kabbalah's belief in a purpose-driven expansion of the ego, in contrast to Buddhism's focus on reducing the self. This expanded ego enables individuals to form meaningful connections with others and ultimately with the Creator. The conversation concludes with a discussion about how true spiritual connection is realized through balancing different aspects of the self and society, and how Israel has a unique role in contributing to global spiritual growth.

The working base is that the Creator wishes you to be His partner. To understand this, we need to understand forgiveness in its Hebrew sense, meaning how forgiveness allows us to move to the other side: not to a place where we feel more comfortable with ourselves, lighter, without anger, guilt, or resentment, allowing different things to come into fruition or to be felt for ourselves. This is will to receive talk, fine, but it has nothing to do with forgiveness in Hebrew. Forgiveness in Hebrew speaks of sending something away: recognizing that the conflict between us relates to the larger conflict we have with the Creator.

This is why forgiveness relates to Yom Kippurim. The beginning of the year in Kabbalistic perception concerns judgment: getting to know ourselves as a disturbance to the growth of creation. It is not about creating a better equilibrium between ourselves. It is about creating a different base of common purpose, allowing us to understand that the conflict between us relates to the larger conflict we have with the Creator. Forgiveness on your part must come with not wishing to continue to take part in human disturbance, or in the human shutting down of the Creator's wish and will to bestow goodness.

You have to send it away: you do not want to be part of it. But sending it away does not automatically mean that we know how to be. We cannot have insurance about how to be before we send something away. It requires a state of vacancy: I want to be vacant of this, and I wish, ask, and beg that what takes its place will be His intention, not my intention to be better. This is why forgiveness has to do with prayer. There are three levels in Hebrew: atonement, forgiveness, and absolution. Even Christians understood instinctively that absolution cannot come through indulgence or forgiveness by a priest in the Catholic Church. It must be given directly from the Higher. There is no representative who can give it to you.

In Kabbalistic teachings, the ego and the spirit represent two distinct states, each drawing its sustenance from different sources. The ego, or the "will to receive for oneself," is nourished by external validation, power, and control, thriving within an environment that supports its self-serving nature. It learns to define satisfaction through the influence of its surroundings. In contrast, the spirit, by its divine nature, seeks nourishment not for self-gain but to give and sustain others. The spirit's purpose is tied to a higher intent—to align with the Creator's desire to bestow goodness. This leads to a different kind of nourishment, one that focuses on grace and wisdom, allowing the spirit to serve a greater purpose.

The Role of Grace and Spiritual Nourishment

In the context of spiritual development, the concept of "eating" is symbolic of receiving and processing wisdom. Grace serves as the vessel or "stomach" through which wisdom is digested. When individuals try to grasp wisdom without grace, they face judgment and trial. However, those who approach it with grace receive the necessary spiritual nourishment, empowering them to grow. This idea forms the core of Baal HaSolam's teachings, emphasizing that while ego is a part of life, its role is not to be nullified but understood and integrated within a larger spiritual framework.

Harnessing Desire for Higher Purpose

The Kabbalistic perspective suggests that ego and desire are not obstacles to be eliminated but forces to be harnessed for spiritual advancement. This is illustrated through the story of Mordecai and Haman, where Haman’s presence serves as a catalyst for Mordecai’s growth. The tension between these forces generates the drive to bring new wisdom and power into the world, which can be used positively or lead to conflict. The challenge is to harness the passion and desire of the ego, not for self-satisfaction, but to align with higher purposes, allowing humanity to digest and integrate new spiritual light in a constructive way.

Music and the ability to sing were not given to humanity in vain. They can elevate the state of mind and give emotion an outlet. Yet the verses of song that prepare for prayer serve a different purpose. Pesukei DeZimra, the verses of song that prepare for prayer, are meant to cut away what separates. When singing leaves a person empty or in despair, it has not been harnessed to its right purpose. The work is to place singing in the context of what it is meant to awaken.

The purpose of singing before prayer is to awaken longing and a clearer identity of the praying vessel within oneself. The praying vessel can feel the state it is in and what it stands before. Singing is about awakening the wonder that has been forgotten. It prepares a person for prayer by removing what separates and bringing awareness of the state in which one stands. This can begin alone, with verses of song that prepare for prayer, most of them from Psalms. A person can work with them and see whether they leave one hopeful and elevated rather than desolate. Singing can also be shared with others who want to understand its meaning within Kabbalah, so that it does not leave a person in despair.

Study should not be stopped merely because it is still for the will to receive for oneself. Curiosity and the wish to become acquainted with the language and the way can be admitted honestly. This is like charity: a person does not stop doing something good for another, or supporting someone in need and their children, merely because self interest is involved. The act is done in spite of that recognition. The will to receive for oneself can make a person stop doing what ought to be done because it is concerned with its self image. That is worse than doing the deed even when it is still for oneself.

Shekhina, or Shakti, as a living essence. It’s not a mechanical creation, but a sensing, feeling entity. One can say that all of Creation, whether nature, animal, humans, plants, fauna, flora, whatever, is the sense tentacle of that Being, the end nerve of that Being. So it’s not only a force or power. This is where Ba’al HaSulam is speaking about neglect, because in a way the wholeness of it is our spirit, our true spirit. So the ego should grow in order to be able to contain, transform and actually bestow.

When we say Shekhina is actually the whole of Creation, it means it’s the membrane of connection between us. It means that each one, each spirit holder, is a point on the net, of what is Shekhina, and the way we can actually express the service for her is to connect, because we, I don’t want to say should, but the offer is that I see you not as something that is a reflection to my way, but you as a part of me--you are an essential part of my spiritual body. When I see you, I see the part which is actually my limbs, or that which is missing in me, and I am, that which is missing in you.

My Creator is concealed through nature, hiding within the ecology that surrounds us.

In reflecting on the nature of Creation, it is important to speak not of a distant or abstract creator but of ׳my Creator,' bringing a personal dimension to the conversation. This notion transforms the Creator into someone, not something. Ecology, in its essence, can be seen as a representation of God, with nature serving as a manifestation of the divine presence. Through nature, the Creator conceals itself, hiding within the very ecology and light that surrounds us. This concealment is intentional, as it forms the backdrop through which we interact with the world and seek to understand the divine.

The will to receive is the raw material of human nature.

The will to receive is a fundamental aspect of human nature, not inherently evil but a raw material that shapes our experiences. In Hebrew, this concept suggests an awakening or awareness of the self, emphasizing the importance of how we use this power.

Evil arises when the purpose of bad is misunderstood or misused, separating us further from the divine intention. While receiving is not inherently bad, when it becomes separated from the intention to bestow, it deepens the separation from the light and creates darkness. Evil, in this sense, is the decay or rotting of this deepened separation.

The commandment commonly translated as "Love your neighbor as yourself" is more accurately rendered as "Love the other as thyself." The Hebrew word re'acha (רעך) is usually translated as "friend," but this translation does not carry what the word holds. It does not speak about a familiar companion but about the other, about whatever stands outside of oneself. It carries the root of self will and at the same time a built in relation to what is outside of it, not as something separate but as something that belongs. It is the will to receive as it is positioned toward the other, and within it there is also the connotation of responsibility, a sense of how one relates to all that is outside oneself.

The structure of the word itself expresses this. The final Hebrew letter kaf creates belonging and corresponds to the number twenty, which suggests the relationship between direct light and return light, ten and ten. When this form is present, a new vessel can be formed, a cooperative state in which the will to receive remains but works with the intention of bestowing. In that state one can begin to sense oneself through the other, not from within alone but through the presence of the other and through the balance between receiving and returning.

The other is ultimately the Creator, but one cannot begin there directly. Human others are needed as a way to measure, to grow, and to be trained in this perception. Through them one learns to feel, to evaluate, and to value the other, and through this develops the capacity to relate to the ultimate other. "Love the other as thyself" is therefore not only a statement but a structure of work, defining how one relates to everything outside oneself and how a vessel is formed that can hold this relationship.

Achishena — not simply “hastening,” but a conscious participation in the unfolding of creation.

It is described as the ability to develop a vessel capable of sensing the urgency, the need and even the thought of the Creator. Rather than waiting passively for events to unfold “in their time,” Achishena refers to actively partaking in the process through awareness, inner work and Torah. The teaching contrasts two paths: one in which development arrives through suffering and tribulation, and another in which a person consciously joins the process of growth itself. The image used is that of tending a plant. The plant will grow regardless, but when someone cares for it, participates in its growth and understands its purpose, their own consciousness grows alongside it. This participation is described as Achishena — not changing the plan itself, but accelerating one’s alignment with it. In Hebrew, the term carries a sense of pressure within time, as though time itself is being compressed. But this acceleration requires a vessel capable of recognizing the moment and responding to it consciously.

The teaching suggests that humanity now lives in a period where both suffering and conscious inner work are intertwined. Because of what is described as an accumulated “debt” — generations of humanity not consciously participating in spiritual evolution — the process cannot unfold only gently. Yet even within this condition, the possibility remains to engage willingly with the preparation the Creator intended for humanity, becoming partners in the unfolding rather than only subjects carried by it. Time itself is described as something created for the purpose of reformation. Once reformation is complete, the discussion suggests, time as we know it will no longer be necessary, because there will no longer be a need for “summoning” into partnership. In this sense, the “end of time” is not destruction, but the completion of a process of alignment between creation and its purpose. The conversation also introduces the idea of surrounding light (or makif), describing it as a force that presses upon the vessel from outside, calling for expansion and greater awareness. What cannot yet enter the vessel remains around it, urging it to deepen and enlarge itself.

Spiritual growth therefore does not begin only from within; it is also shaped by what surrounds us and seeks to enter. The vessel responds by increasing its capacity, creating an ongoing dialogue between the inner line and the surrounding light. Underlying the entire discussion is the idea that spiritual development is not separate from time, but deeply intertwined with it. Through conscious participation, awareness and willingness to engage in the work, a person does not escape the process — but enters into partnership with it, transforming time itself into part of the path toward completion.

The Creator cannot be fully described within human language. In Hebrew, the term for Creator, Bo Ur-ee ("come and see"), is not a title or a sefira but a resonant calling—a sound that vibrates through creation. It transcends gender or form; it simply is.

Being is something we attribute to a will, and we speak of the Creator's will. Since a will belongs to someone, we associate it with a being, but this is our limitation. This notion arises from the first step in becoming acquainted with the language of higher learning, which differs from learning as we understand it. It is a language of higher perception.

As Baal HaSulam and the Ari teach through Torah, the definitions of light or sound are not about the light or sound themselves but about the vessel—what the vessel is capable of perceiving. Perception occurs at different levels, with the highest being the ability to hear the Creator's call, Bo Ur-ee, as a whole, resonating throughout creation.