Rabbinic tradition has it that the prophet (and messianic herald) Elijah is often disguised as a beggar or a leper. More expansively, Jewish tradition suggests that in every generation there are 36 righteous ones (zaddikim) on whose account the world is preserved. But the kicker is that we can never know who the 36 are. The zaddik is constitutively hidden? Why?
Sociological and psychological reasons abound:
Righteous people don’t seek (and often eschew) the limelight.
Society, being corrupt and distorted, values the wrong people for the wrong things, while the pure of heart are devalued precisely for refusing to buy into society’s lies.
Outsiders have the clearest point of view, and the strongest conviction, because they are un-tempted by the lures of recognition, acceptance, and flattery.
All good and plausible theories. Here’s my phenomenological-mystical take:
The premise of Satan’s challenge in the Book of Job is this: “It’s easy to serve God when you have it all; but can you serve God when you’ve lost it all, or when you have nothing?” Satan makes a good point.
Now try this variation on Satan’s argument. Imagine you were better at something you want to be better at. Imagine you were more successful at something you want to be successful at. Imagine how much easier your life would be if you were significantly healthier, happier, wealthier, more fulfilled, etc. But that would be too easy. So imagine the life you have—with all of its challenges and gifts—as one perfectly calibrated to your capacity to self-transcend your obstacles. (Note: the exercise is a thought experiment and need not be metaphysically substantiated). Imagine that in another life time you were one of the 36 perfectly righteous ones, but you came back to earth as the mixed, complicated person you are. You still are a righteous person—you’re just a hidden one, you’re a righteous person hidden from yourself, a righteous person whose capacity has yet to be realized. The zaddik is hidden not simply because he is a social pariah, but because the nature of our potential is that it is hidden from us.
Here is how I understand the doctrine of the thirty six. It’s a number that says “look at how concrete, how doable this is” but at the same time says, “look at how difficult, how rare this is.” We can overcome the obstacles we have set for ourselves only with tremendous effort. They are like the proverbial stones that are too heavy even for God to lift. For if they were not difficult, we would not toil and then our lives would be rid of delta. The zaddik is the one who says “give me the test I am nearly incapable of passing. Let me fail, but spectacularly.” In doing so, the zaddik passes the meta-test. But this achievement cannot be put into words and needs no celebration. And yet it is the ultimate achievement—the recognition of one’s struggles as perfect and self-chosen.
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