Life After Death
Drawn to the Divine Light: What the Zohar and Near-Death Experiences Reveal About the Soul
Why the soul longs to leave the body, how encounters with divine light are described in Jewish sources and modern testimonies, and what returning to life teaches about mercy and purpose
- Orit Martin u'Baruch Kastner
- |Updated

The Zohar describes a striking spiritual dynamic at the moment a person is about to pass from this world: the soul does not simply “exit,” but rather, it is drawn out by love.
When the time arrives for the nefesh to separate from the body, the nefesh will not leave until the Shechinah (Divine Presence) is revealed to it. Once the Divine Presence becomes manifest, the soul yearns to reunite with its root and moves toward that revelation.
If the person is righteous, the soul is able to attach and cleave to the Shechinah. If the person is not righteous, the Shechinah withdraws, and the soul remains alone — grieving the separation from the body and the loss of what it had hoped to embrace. (Zohar, Metzora 53; Matok MiDvash)
A Parable: Why the Soul “Follows the Light”
The Zohar illustrates this with a simple parable: A cat loves to lie near a warm fire and won’t move. But when it sees a knife being sharpened, it assumes meat is being prepared for it. In that moment, it leaves the warmth and follows after the knife.
So too, when the soul hesitates to leave the body, the Shechinah is revealed. The soul senses closeness, love, and belonging, and it “follows,” not because it is forced, but because it longs to cleave to what it recognizes as home.
This parable isn’t intended to reduce the moment to something physical, but to communicate that the soul is moved by attraction, not by coercion.
Modern Near-Death Testimonies: Encountering an Overwhelming Loving Light
In accounts gathered by Dr. Raymond Moody (in his early research on near-death experiences, often associated with Life After Life), many people who were clinically close to death described meeting an intense light — an experience they characterize as:
profoundly loving
warm and reassuring
beyond anything they had ever felt
magnetically drawing them inward
They often report that every happiness and love they had known in ordinary life felt small compared to the vastness of what they sensed near that “light.”
Some describe it as clear and radiant — bright yet not painful, and powerful yet gentle, like a presence that communicates not through spoken words but through direct awareness.
“A Boundary Line”: The Sense of No Return
Another recurring element in these stories is the sense of a clear boundary — a point they understood (even if they couldn’t “see” it physically) as the line between returning to life and continuing forward.
People describe knowing: “If I cross this, I won’t return.” In some testimonies, the experience includes an inner question, similar to:
“Are you ready to die?”
“What have you done with your life?”
“What have you completed?”
Whether a reader interprets these accounts spiritually, psychologically, or both, the pattern is consistent: a confrontation with meaning, purpose, and the weight of one’s life.
Where Is This Light in the Torah?
This “light” motif is connected to biblical imagery of God revealed as fire that does not consume — an overwhelming presence that is powerful, awe-inspiring, yet not destructive.
Examples include:
The burning bush: fire that burns without consuming the bush
Revelation at Sinai: God’s presence depicted in flames and awe
The point is not to claim a perfect one-to-one match between modern testimonies and Torah descriptions, but to illustrate that the language of “light,” “fire,” and “a presence beyond ordinary reality” is deeply rooted in the tradition.
Rachel Noam’s Story: Leaving the Body, Seeing the “Film of Life,” and Returning
One of the most vivid narratives presented is the story of Rachel Noam, who suffered a severe head injury when a large wooden beam fell on her in Tel Aviv.
She describes experiencing herself outside her body, observing the scene from above. She recognizes her body lying on the ground and is stunned by the paradox:
“That is my body… but I’m not inside it.”
“How am I seeing?”
“How am I hearing?”
She reports feeling no pain and no fear, only calmness and clarity, as if her awareness did not depend on physical organs.
Then, she says, her perception shifts. The street scene becomes hazy, and from within the haze a bright, intense light approaches, growing stronger and more encompassing.
A Life Review: Nothing Missing
Rachel describes what many near-death accounts call a “life review,” where events from her life appear with extraordinary detail, rapid speed, and complete accuracy, like a fully recorded film.
She experiences herself both as observer and participant, as though every moment of movements, sounds, and colors, has been preserved.
Love That Feels Too Vast to Contain
The light, she says, radiates compassion and love beyond words. She feels pulled toward it, and also feels that she may dissolve in its presence, unable to “remain herself” as she is.
At the same time, she begs to return, feeling she is still young, that she hasn’t lived meaningfully, that she needs another chance.
Returning to the Body: The Shock of “Limited Light”
When she returns, it is sudden and jarring. She looks at the sun and is struck by how pale and limited it seems compared to what she had encountered.
And here her interpretation becomes a major theme: She concludes that the ordinary sunlight — the ordinary world, is not just “light.” It is also a merciful filter, a protective covering that allows embodied life to continue without being overwhelmed.
In her framing, if the greater light were fully revealed in this world, physical life could not endure it.
Years Later: The Siddur as a Shock of Recognition
After many years, Rachel encounters a prayer book and reads words she had never truly absorbed before:
“My God, the soul You placed within me is pure… You will take it from me, and return it to me…”
“Blessed is He… who restores souls to lifeless bodies.”
“Creator of light… who illumines the earth with mercy…”
She feels as if her private, unspeakable experience is suddenly written plainly on the page, and part of an ancient language that already “knew” what she saw.
And the phrase that hits her hardest is not mystical, but direct: “Master of all souls.” “Who returns souls.”
Her response is not intellectual, but emotional recognition: This is real. This is describing something true.
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