Every so often, the world cracks in a way that feels unbearable. A single violent act, a senseless tragedy, or even the slow grind of hatred leaves us wondering: Why does evil exist at all? If there’s supposed to be light, love, and order in creation, then how do we explain the shadows that keep showing up?
Kabbalah—Jewish mysticism—doesn’t shy away from this uncomfortable question. In fact, it leans right into it with a story that is both startling and strangely comforting: the myth of the shattering of the vessels.
It’s not a tale you’d find in Sunday school. But it is one that offers a map of how to live in a world that feels broken, and how to respond when evil rears its head.
The Shattering of the Vessels
Here’s the story in simple terms. In the beginning, there was only the Infinite—Kabbalah calls it Ein Sof, which literally means “without end.” To create the world, the Infinite had to do something radical: it had to step back. Imagine the ocean pulling itself away just enough to create a little pocket of dry land. This stepping back is called tzimtzum—contraction.
Into that empty space, the Infinite poured divine light. To hold the light, vessels were formed—containers meant to shape existence. But here’s the problem: the vessels couldn’t handle the intensity. They shattered.
Think of a glass pitcher trying to hold molten lava. Crack. Shatter. Pieces everywhere.
This breaking is called shevirat ha-kelim, “the shattering of the vessels.” And according to Kabbalah, it’s not just some cosmic myth—it’s the blueprint for why we experience evil, suffering, and brokenness in the world today.
Evil as Residue
So what happened to all that divine light after the vessels shattered? Some of it returned to its source. But some got trapped in the shards—the broken pieces of existence. These shards, heavy and sharp, are where darkness lives. They are the roots of cruelty, hatred, greed, and violence.
In other words: evil is not some external devil lurking in the shadows. It’s not a monster under the bed. It’s the residue of brokenness—light gone dark, sparks stuck in shells.
This is both terrifying and hopeful. Terrifying, because it means brokenness is baked right into creation. Hopeful, because if the light got stuck, then it can also be freed.
Our Role: Gather the Sparks
Here’s where Kabbalah makes a radical claim: it’s not God’s job to fix the shattering. It’s ours.
Every act of compassion, every moment of kindness, every time we choose love over indifference—we release sparks of divine light from their captivity. The Hebrew phrase for this work is tikkun olam, “repairing the world.”
Think about that for a second. When you smile at a stranger, when you forgive someone who wronged you, when you choose justice over silence—you are not just being a “good person.” You are doing cosmic repair. You are gathering sparks.
This means that even in the face of evil, we are never powerless. The cracks in the world are real, yes—but they are also opportunities to bring back the light.
The Problem with Despair
Of course, when tragedy strikes, it’s natural to feel despair. Evil shocks us because it feels like an intrusion. It’s as if something foreign has invaded the world. But from a Kabbalistic view, despair is itself a kind of shard. It’s one more piece of brokenness whispering, “Give up. Nothing matters. Darkness wins.”
This is the real danger of evil—not just the act itself, but the way it can pull us into hopelessness. If we start believing that repair is impossible, the shards have already won.
The antidote is not naïve positivity. It’s not pretending things are fine when they’re not. The antidote is remembering that even the tiniest act of good can redeem a spark.
Light in the Cracks
There’s a Japanese art form called kintsugi, where broken pottery is repaired with gold. The cracks don’t disappear; they become illuminated, part of the beauty. Kabbalah points to something similar. We don’t erase the shattering. We can’t. But we can fill the cracks with light.
And here’s the thing: sometimes the cracks make us more beautiful than before. A heart that has been broken but still chooses to love carries a kind of radiance that untouched innocence never will.
The poet Leonard Cohen said it best: “There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”
Practical Repair Work
So how do we actually “gather sparks” in a world where headlines scream despair? Kabbalah isn’t just mystical theory; it’s meant to be lived. Here are some practices anyone can try:
- Acts of Kindness (Chesed)
– Hold the door open.
– Check in on a friend.
– Donate to a cause that heals division.
Every small kindness repairs a fragment of the world. - Conscious Speech (Shmirat HaLashon)
– Before you speak (or post), ask: will these words heal or harm?
– Choose words that bring light instead of more shards. - Transform Anger into Sacred Fire
– Write your anger in a journal.
– Then ask: how can this energy fuel something constructive?
– March, create, advocate—but don’t let anger consume you. - Ritual with Light
– Light a candle (yes, even a simple tea light).
– As it burns, visualize darkness dissolving and sparks rising back to the source.
– Whisper a name, a prayer, or even just the word hope.
These aren’t small gestures. They are cosmic repairs.
Even Cracked Vessels Hold Light
Kabbalah teaches that each of us is also a vessel. And let’s be real: we’re all cracked. We carry our own anger, grief, shame, or fear. Sometimes it feels like we’ll break completely. But the truth is, even cracked vessels can hold light. In fact, they may hold more.
Your imperfections are not disqualifications. They’re invitations. When you choose to love, even with a broken heart, you are participating in the repair of creation.
Curse Breaking and the Sun
One of my favorite tools for this kind of repair is candle work. In Kabbalah, flame is the perfect metaphor for the soul—dancing, fragile, reaching upward. Lighting a candle is not just ambiance; it’s an act of gathering sparks.
I often use my Curse Breaker candle for this work. Why? Because evil acts leave behind curses—not the Hollywood hex kind, but lingering imprints of despair and hatred. Curse Breaker is about dissolving those shadows. It’s “The Sun”: radiant, unstoppable, breaking through the darkness.
When I light it, I say:
“By this flame, I dissolve the shards of darkness. By this light, I release the sparks of holiness.”
And then I watch the flame, imagine evil turning to smoke and the sparks rising like stars. It’s simple, but powerful.
Closing: Our Task of Repair
Evil is real. It wounds, it shocks, it breaks. But it is not final. It is not the last word. According to Kabbalah, the cracks of creation are also the openings for redemption.
Our task is not perfection—it’s participation. To choose kindness when it’s easier to withdraw. To speak healing when the world wants us to lash out. To gather sparks, one act at a time, until the brokenness glows with light.
The world may shatter. But we are here to repair. And every spark you release brings us one step closer to wholeness.