When the Hiding Stops

A Question The prophet Isaiah says of Hashem: “He does not grow tired or weary.” If so, what does it mean that Hashem “rested” on the seventh day? The Torah says: “And He rested on the seventh day from all His work.” But if Hashem never gets tired, why would He need to rest? The Torah is surely not talking about being tired. So what did He rest from? The World Is a Hiding Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, author of the Tanya, the classic book of Hasidic thought, teaches a great idea. In Hebrew, the word for “world” comes from the same root as the word for “hiding.” The world is not just a place Hashem created and then left behind. At its core, the world is an ongoing process of hiding Hashem’s light. Think about the six days of creation. Do not picture them only as a series of building steps. Picture them as a gradual coming down, layer by layer, each one thicker than the last. First, “Let there be light”: a pure light, with nothing solid about it. Then come the sky, the waters, dry land, plants, the sun and moon, and living creatures. Each day adds another layer of covering, another layer of hiding. Hashem’s light wraps itself in nature. Nature wraps itself in physical matter. Physical matter wraps itself in the noise of everyday life. In the end, the very idea of Hashem’s presence sounds like a word from another world. This is the deeper meaning of the verse “The whole earth is full of His glory,” as the Baal Shem Tov, founder of the Hasidic movement, explains it. It does not mean that Hashem’s glory is somewhere far away, looking down on the earth. It means that His glory truly fills the earth, so completely that the earth itself seems to exist on its own. Yet the earth is really nothing more than His clothing. Hashem Said “Enough” Our Sages teach that when Hashem created the world, it kept spreading and spreading, until He said, “Enough! Stop.” Why “enough”? Had the hiding gone even one step further, it would have been too complete. The created world would have forgotten entirely that it has a Creator. Here is the secret. Hashem did not rest because His strength ran out. He rested because the moment had come to stop the hiding itself. He was not resting from building. He was resting from hiding. Resting Is an Action The rest of the Sabbath is not an absence. It is a real action, an active stopping of the curtain as it comes down. During the six weekdays, the world does its job: it hides. Every business deal, every worry, every proud feeling of “My river is mine, and I made it myself,” as Pharaoh boasted, adds one more layer. Do you know, my fellow Jew, what it feels like when Hashem seems far away? When your prayer rises up, hits a ceiling of worries, and comes back empty? That is the hiding doing its work. But on the seventh day, the Sabbath, the curtain stops coming down. This is not because we did anything special. It is because time itself was built this way. The Sabbath is a fixed address where Hashem’s light is waiting for you. Here is a parable about a painter and his painting. During the week, we see the painting: the world of nature, its colors and shapes. And we forget that a painter stands behind it. The painting is so beautiful, and it fills our eyes so completely, that the artist’s hand disappears from view. On the Sabbath, the painter pauses and says: “Look at me, not just at the painting.” The covering stays in place, but you begin to see through it. This is what the Zohar, the classic mystical text, teaches. On the seventh day, the higher oneness is revealed: the inner unity behind the surface of things. The Creator and His creation are not two separate things. On the Sabbath, a created being can feel this truth, even just a little.