Scientific and Kabbalistic View of Angels

 

Angels as Emanations: A Kabbalistic and Scientific View of Malachim

What if the common image of angels we've inherited—from artwork, religion, and folklore—is completely wrong? What if the truth about angels has been hidden in plain sight within the Hebrew Bible, encoded in the language of prophecy and mysticism… and only now are we beginning to understand it?

Recent discoveries in psychology, quantum theory, and ancient Jewish wisdom converge to reveal something astonishing about the nature of these mysterious beings. The answer may not lie in heaven—but much closer than you think. The following teaching and deep insight by Avraham Emuanah may very well change everything you thought you knew about angels.

The popular image of angels—winged, radiant beings descending from celestial realms—has long enchanted the religious imagination. But when we return to the Tanakh through the lens of Kabbalah, prophetic experience, and even modern scientific understanding, a far more sophisticated and spiritually resonant vision begins to emerge. In this view, angels are not an external species of divine messengers floating above us. Rather, they are intimate: emanations of Hashem’s will and reflections of our own higher soul. They are mirrors—appearing when the heart opens, when the consciousness elevates, and when the divine message needs a form the human vessel can receive.

In Psalm 99, we read that “Hashem is enthroned upon the cherubim,” immediately followed by “He is exalted above all peoples.” The juxtaposition is striking. The cherubim—those angelic figures atop the Ark of the Covenant—have often been read as literal heavenly beings. But from a Kabbalistic perspective, they represent something much closer to home: the human heart itself. The Ark was not just a container of stone tablets, but the inner sanctuary of the nation’s soul. And when that heart is open to the Divine, it becomes the throne of Hashem. Thus, the Divine does not hover far above; it rests within.

This understanding echoes throughout the Tanakh. The “angel of the Lord” frequently speaks in the first person as God—such as in Genesis 22, when the angel tells Abraham, “You have not withheld your son from Me.” Or in Exodus 3, where Moses sees the “angel of the Lord” in the burning bush, but the conversation seamlessly transitions to Hashem Himself. These figures are not intermediaries in the Greek sense of messengers delivering divine mail. They are interfaces—emanations of the Divine Mind, dressed in the language, form, or metaphor the receiver is prepared to understand.

Kabbalistically, the word malach, meaning "messenger," is not a character—it is a function. It is a channel through which divine force travels. The Zohar teaches that no angel acts independently; all are extensions of divine purpose. In the Tree of Sefirot, angels flow from Netzach, Hod, and especially Yesod—pouring into the physical world of Asiyah like filtered light. The malach is divine communication clothed in symbol and structure.

This structure harmonizes beautifully with modern science. In quantum field theory, all matter is the result of invisible fields excited into visible form. Particles are not entities, but pulses within an underlying wave system. Angels, then, are not external spirits—but pulses in the spiritual field, activated by human alignment with the Divine. In neuroscience, visionary and prophetic states are often the result of brain regions communicating in hyper-connected ways—creating vivid internal images that the mystic interprets symbolically. Kabbalah anticipated this long ago: a prophetic image, like an angel, is not a hallucination. It is a construct of the higher soul perceiving truth, made visible to consciousness through Da’at (the Divine Mind).

We see this clearly in the lives of the prophets. When Abraham opens his tent to three visitors in Genesis 18, we are told that “Hashem appeared to him.” But how? Through three men. Two may have been physical travelers; the third was something more: the Presence itself. Abraham, known for his radical hospitality, sees the Divine not in fire or cloud—but in human faces. He becomes the vessel for the angelic because his own soul reflects the kindness of Hashem. In this moment, the angel is not a visitor—it is a mirrored emanation of Abraham’s own heart.

Similarly, in Joshua 5, just before entering battle, Joshua sees a “man with a drawn sword” who declares himself captain of Hashem’s hosts. But he is not glowing or winged—he appears as a warrior, the very image of what Joshua must become himself. In this sense, the angel is not a messenger from outside—it is Joshua’s own higher archetype, descending to him as clarity and mission. The angel is Joshua himself, but elevated in his higher spiritual form, like a mirror, it’s reflecting itself back to the earthly Joshua. And thus Joshua sees himself, the leader of Hashem’s army.  

This same principle extends to the idea of “guardian angels.” Rather than a winged spirit assigned to you at birth, Kabbalah teaches that your true guardian is your Neshamah Elyonah—your upper soul. This part of you never fully descends into the body but remains rooted in the supernal realms. It gently guides the lower self in Asiyah, whispering through conscience, intuition, and inner knowing. What many perceive as a guardian angel is, in truth, the perfected echo of their own self, waiting for reunification.

And just as the angel reflects your divine potential, so too the demonic—the shedim or demons—reflect your shadow. The dark thoughts, egoic distortions, inner chaos: these are not foreign spirits, but projections of what remains unhealed in the human psyche. Just as righteousness projects angels, spiritual disorder externalizes as demons. The Zohar is clear: what you see above depends on who you are below.

Even in the prophetic visions of Daniel, which some cite as proof of separate angelic beings, this same principle I’m presenting here holds true. Daniel’s angels appear during moments of intense inner turmoil—when he is seeking understanding. The angelic figure is never fully separate from Daniel’s own yearning. And when one such angel is “delayed by the prince of Persia,” we might interpret this not as a cosmic battle in the sky, but as Daniel’s own struggle with external pressures, political fears, and the inner resistance to revelation. The “angel” arrives when his Da’at is clear enough to receive it. Daniel is simply toiling in Torah and meditating on prophecy, and the Angel appears to him as Daniel’s own mirrored self when he comes to revelation in his meditation and prayers. Daniel is having his prayers answered by the word of Hashem, and this is being portrayed symbolically as the appearance of an Angel (again, Daniel’s own upper consciousness delivering the message of God to Daniel’s lower self).  

Modern psychology supports this reading. Carl Jung’s concept of the Self, and the archetypes that live in the collective unconscious, align with the idea of spiritual images that appear during transformation. The Zohar teaches that when a tzaddik walks in truth, a spiritual image of him is formed above. The angel is thus a visible encounter with one’s own elevated form, filtered through spiritual symbolism.

Ultimately, this understanding of angels restores them to their rightful place: not as distant beings to fear or worship, but as living reflections of Hashem’s light and our own soul’s architecture. They are the light of the inner world projected into form, the visible speech of the Divine Mind, the intersection between Divine will and human readiness. To see an angel is not to meet a foreign being. It is to become a vessel so refined that your own higher self can appear before you—to guide, to instruct, and to confirm that the Divine is near.

The Rabbi Who Saw Two Thrones in Heaven

 

Resolving the Vision of “Two Thrones” Through the Sefirot

In the mystical journey of Jewish tradition, some visions are so profound that they risk being misunderstood when seen without the proper lens. One such vision is that of Elisha ben Avuyah, known as Aher, who reportedly saw “two thrones in heaven” and concluded there must be “two powers.” This led him down a path of heresy, becoming one of the most tragic figures in rabbinic history.

But what if the vision was not false—only misinterpreted? What if the problem wasn’t in what he saw, but in how he saw it? In this video, we’ll explore a new Kabbalistic understanding of this vision, one that draws from the structure of the Sefirot and reveals a deeper unity hidden within apparent duality. This teaching proposes that Aher’s vision was a glimpse into the secret of Keter and Malchut—what appears to be two thrones, but are in fact one. A single throne viewed from two ends of the same divine spectrum.

The Talmudic account of Elisha ben Avuyah (Aher) witnessing “two thrones in heaven”—which led him to believe in “two powers”—has long challenged theologians and mystics. Yet, when seen through the lens of the Sefirot and the inner structure of divine reality, this apparent duality dissolves.

In the Kabbalistic Tree of Life, there are indeed two crowns: Keter, the supernal crown—the highest Sefirah and source of all emanation; and Malchut, the lowest Sefirah, often called Keter she’b’Tachton—the crown below, the vessel into which all upper light flows. Both are referred to as thrones: one above, one below.

What Aher saw may have been a legitimate mystical vision—but misunderstood due to a linear perception of reality. He saw “two thrones,” but lacked the conceptual framework to realize they were reflections of one another: Keter Elyon and Malchut, the beginning and end of the same divine circuit.

When viewed from a two-dimensional perspective, the Sefirot appear as distinct and separate spheres—like dots on a flat diagram. But in truth, they are nested lenses, like a spiritual telescope, through which divine light passes and refracts in multiplicity, yet remains unified at its source.

Just as a telescope aligns many lenses to focus on a single reality, so too the Sefirot, when aligned in consciousness, reveal their oneness. What looks like “two thrones” from below—separation between the world of emanation and the world of action—is in fact one continuous Throne when seen from a higher vantage point.

This resolves the heresy: the two thrones were never separate entities, but a singular kingship manifesting at two poles of existence—Keter above and Malchut below. The final redemption will reveal this unity explicitly, as Malchut rises to Keter, completing the circle of divine will and consciousness. Then, the throne below and the throne above will be seen as one.

Shevirat HaKelim - Fractals and Not Fractures

 “Fractals, NOT Fractured vessels”: A New Kabbalistic idea of cosmology and spiritual alignment

In this article I’m presenting a radical reinterpretation (or re-imagination) of one of the central doctrines in Lurianic Kabbalah: Shevirat HaKelim, the Breaking of the Vessels. Traditionally understood as a cosmic catastrophe that scattered divine light into fragments requiring repair, I propose instead a model grounded in both mystical intuition AND scientific insight: which is that the vessels were not shattered in chaos but rather dispersed through a sacred “fractalization" (repeating fractals). This reframing transforms our perception of the “fall” of creation not as a breakage and trauma requiring restoration, but as a patterned and recursive diffusion of divine form. What looks to us like a broken reality is in fact a misalignment of fractal layers, a temporary distortion of a deeper sacred geometry.

In classical Lurianic Kabbalah, the Infinite Light (Ohr Ein Sof) poured into the primordial vessels of the world of Tohu, vessels which were unable to contain the light and thus shattered. This rupture scattered divine sparks into the lower worlds, where they became embedded within layers of concealment and impurity. Humanity’s mission, according to this view, is to enact Tikkun Olam by retrieving these sparks and reassembling the broken vessels, thereby restoring divine harmony.

However, the new model I am suggesting is that the vessels did not break randomly, but rather underwent a process of structured diffusion. They fractaled, not fractured. Divine form did not collapse or break apart, but echoed itself into a recursive, self-similar pattern that is visible in all levels of creation. From afar, the result may appear chaotic, as in the world of Tohu, but upon closer examination reveals embedded symmetry, order within order, and patterns reflecting their divine source.

This reframing has profound implications. It transforms Shevirah from a cosmic fall to a cosmic unfolding. Sparks are not scattered debris, but self-similar nodes of divine light. Tohu is not meaningless disorder, but the illusory complexity of a misperceived pattern. Tikkun is not about gluing fragments together, but about recognizing and realigning the sacred geometries that were never truly broken.

Modern science lends powerful support to this idea. Fractal geometry, evident in the structures of trees, rivers, lungs, galaxies, and even human DNA—reveals that nature itself is recursive. What appears random or chaotic is often a higher-dimensional symmetry. Systems are scale-sensitive: disruption at one level cascades through the entire structure. This is precisely the nature of the fractalized Shevirah: the Ein Sof projected itself as a fractal field, and creation emerged not as a descending ladder, but as a multi-dimensional unfolding. Each world, each soul, each aspect of reality echoes the root pattern of Adam Kadmon. When one layer is misaligned, the entire system vibrates out of sync.

With this in mind, we can return to Genesis 1:2, which states: "And the earth was Tohu vaVohu, and darkness was over the face of the deep..." While this verse is traditionally seen as a poetic reference to post-Shevirah chaos, the fractal model allows us to reinterpret Tohu not as devastation, but as unrecognized order. To the surface mind, the world appears fragmented. But from the standpoint of divine consciousness, what appears as chaos is in fact complexity waiting to be decoded. Tohu becomes not the aftermath of destruction, but a pre-aligned fractal field awaiting calibration.

This idea is not without precedent in the tradition. The Zohar (I:15a) teaches that "the lower worlds are formed in the likeness of the higher ones," a clear affirmation of recursive cosmic design. Sefer Yetzirah tells us that "the end is embedded in the beginning," a statement of recursive time and self-similar emergence. Even the concept of Tzimtzum, the withdrawal of divine presence to make space for creation, is not a negation, but a reframing: the Infinite light retracts to allow a layered revelation of itself. Tzimtzum does not erase; it configures. Shevirah, too, need not imply destruction, it may simply describe the recursive expression of the Infinite through the prism of multiplicity.

From this emerges a new vision of Tikkun. Rather than a world that needs to be pieced back together like shattered glass, we live in a reality that is simply misaligned, like a fractal whose recursive branches have twisted out of sync. In a fractal system, each node contains the whole. A distortion in one layer throws off the resonance of the entire system. Tikkun, then, is not the labor of gluing shards back together, but the work of alignment. Our role is to realign the disoriented geometries of existence to their root pattern.

Here, Torah takes on a central, even cosmic role. The Zohar tells us that "Hashem looked into the Torah and created the world." Torah is not merely a set of laws, it is the original algorithm of divine alignment. Each mitzvah is a micro-adjustment that recalibrates some aspect of reality. Shabbat aligns time with eternity. Kashrut aligns the body with higher sensitivity. Speech laws align consciousness with truth. The commandments are tuning mechanisms in the great instrument of creation. Aligning the seemingly misaligned fractals over space and time.

The ultimate goal is Devekut, often translated as cleaving to God. But in the framework I’m presenting here, Devekut is not spiritual adhesion—it is spiritual resonance/alignment. Just as tuning forks resonate when struck in harmony, or photons form coherent laser light, or atoms settle into crystal lattices, so too does the soul enter Devekut not by fusing with God, but by vibrating in precise alignment with Him. And the Torah is the tuning fork, mitzvot are the resonators, and consciousness is the instrument.

Thus, the Messianic future is not about reassembling broken parts, but about restoring global coherence. The exile is not dispersion, but distortion. Redemption is not repair, it is realignment. Prophecy becomes the art of pattern recognition. Tikkun Olam becomes the act of returning all things to phase coherence with the divine source. The final Tikkun is the full restoration of the fractal Tree of Life, which is then re-aligned from root to tip, all levels harmonized in their proper recursive relationship.

This new theological model synthesizes the deepest currents of Lurianic Kabbalah with insights from fractal mathematics, systems theory, and Torah consciousness. It proposes that the vessels were never truly broken, they were expressed in nested form. The world is not damaged, it is misaligned. Our task is not to fix the Infinite, it never broke, but to align the recursive echoes of its light. The Infinite did not fall apart. It unfolded. What we call redemption is not repair, it is recognition. This is the Torah of Alignment. This is the true Tikkun. This is the inner path of Devekut.

This insight emerged for me through my deep engagement with the school of the Vilna Gaon, particularly its emphasis on the redemption of the lower wisdoms. The Gra taught that the sciences and secular disciplines are not alien to Torah, but rather expressions of Torah clothed in outer garments. Following this path, I turned to the language of fractal geometry and complexity theory, asking not how science contradicts Kabbalah, but how it might serve it. I sought to redeem the patterns of mathematics and the architecture of nature into the supernal wisdom of Sod. From this inquiry arose the realization that the vessels did not shatter randomly, but unfolded recursively. The world is not fragmented chaos, but a fractal revelation of the Divine Mind. In my attempt to redeem the wisdom of the lower world, I discovered a deeper light of the upper world–expressed in the wisdom and “science” of Kabbalah.

Why Moses Could Not Enter the Promised Land — And Why He Will Return

 

Have you ever wondered why Moses, the greatest prophet in history, the one who spoke face to face with God, was denied entry into the Promised Land? Was it really just because he struck a rock in frustration? Or is there a deeper, more mysterious reason, one that reaches into the very soul of Israel, and even into the blueprint of redemption itself?

Most of us have heard that Moses was barred from entering the Land because of the incident at Merivah, where he struck the rock instead of speaking to it. But in Deuteronomy 3:26 and 4:21, Moses gives us another reason, one far more profound. He says plainly: “The Lord was angry with me because of you people.” He connects his exclusion not to his own failure, but to Israel’s sin, especially the Golden Calf. This wasn’t just about broken tablets, it was about a shattered spiritual potential that Israel failed to live up to. This is why Moses was not allowed to enter the land. The quote from the Torah says specifically: “And the Lord was angry with me because of you, and He swore that I should not cross the Jordan, and that I should not enter the good land”.

At Sinai, Israel stood on the edge of something miraculous. Had they remained faithful, they would have received not only the external Torah—Chokhmah and Binah—but also the inner Torah: Da’at Elyon, the higher knowledge, the Divine Mind. In that state, Moses, who carried this supernal light, could have entered the Land with them. The journey would have been complete. Redemption could have happened then. But the Calf revealed something painful: the people weren’t ready. They couldn’t yet see the Divine hidden within the Torah. They couldn’t recognize Moses and the Torah as the living mirror of God’s Name.

This is why God says specifically to Israel after the golden calf incident, in Exodus 33:3, “I will not go up among you along the way into the land.” This was not merely divine disappointment, it was a cosmic rupture. The indwelling Presence that was meant to journey with Israel withdrew. And that very withdrawal plays out in Moses’ fate. This verse was technically fulfilled in that Moses himself did not go among Israel into the promised land. And “Moses” here is the emissary and mirror of Hashem himself. How is this so?

Here’s the hidden gem: Moses (spelled with the hebrew letters “mem” “shem” “heh”) is the exact same as the term Hashem (which is the letters “heh” “shem” “mem”) spelled backwards. This is no linguistic coincidence, it’s a spiritual reality. It's the same gematria value of 345 as well. So, Moses is the mirrored expression of the Divine Name within creation. He is the earthly vessel through which Hashem was meant to walk with Israel. So when God said, “I will not go among you,” it wasn’t just Hashem who stepped back. It was also Moses, the reflection of that Name in human form who did not enter.

This is why Moses could not enter the Land. It wasn’t punishment, it was prophecy. It was the word of Hashem himself. The people had rejected the inner connection between God and His human reflection, his emissary. So the mirror shattered. Hashem remained above, Moses stood outside the land, and Israel wandered forward without the fullness of Divine “Da’at” among them. Let’s remember from my previous videos that “Da’at” is the hidden sefirot of divine knowledge, known by Kabbalists as “the mind of Moses”.

Now, this fracture isn’t permanent. The prophets saw the repair. In Zechariah 14:9, it says: “On that day, Hashem will be One and His Name One.” That’s not just theology, that’s the healing of the split between the Infinite and His Name, between the Source and its mirrored expression in this world. The prophet Malachi in chapter 3 adds: “The Master whom you seek will suddenly come to His sanctuary... the messenger of the covenant.” That “messenger” is Moses, the embodiment of the covenant, the Name returned to the sanctuary, when the people are finally ready.

When Mashiach-consciousness awakens, when humanity becomes a true vessel for Da’at (Divine Knowing) then the sanctuary will open again. Then Moses will enter the land and the sanctuary forever. The one who could not walk into the Land because of the people's unreadiness, and propensity towards earthly knowledge, will return with them, not just to lead, but to complete the entire journey.

So Moses’ exclusion wasn’t the end of his story. It was the delayed beginning of his final mission, to return, to dwell, to unify the Name. And when that day comes, we will say not just with our mouths, but with our being and our inner knowing: “Hashem is One, and His Name is One.” And the Name will no longer be backwards, As Moses at that time will be revealed as having come to the sanctuary. May it be so, and may it come speedily and in our own day!