One such text is Heikhalot Rabbati, a work of Jewish mystical literature that takes us on a journey through the heavenly realms. And in it, we find a truly awe-inspiring vision of the Divine.
Prepare yourself, because the numbers are... well, astronomical. The text attempts to describe the immense stature of God, or at least, the aspect of God that can be perceived in these heavenly realms. From the throne of glory upwards, we're told, God's height extends a mind-boggling 180,000 myriads of parasangs. Now, a parasang is an ancient unit of distance, roughly equivalent to 3-4 miles. Do the math, and you're already lost in a sea of zeros. And it's the same distance downwards from the throne!
But it doesn't stop there. The text continues, "His stature is two hundred and thirty and six thousands of myriads of parasangs." Just trying to wrap your head around that number is an exercise in futility. It's meant to be. It's meant to convey the utter incomprehensibility of the Divine.
And the details! "From the ball of the right eye to the ball of the left eye there be thirty myriads of parasangs." Thirty myriads! The width of each eye is three myriads and three thousand parasangs. Imagine the scale. From right arm to left arm? Seventy-seven myriads of parasangs. We're told His arms are folded upon His shoulders. His right arm is called "The Mover," and His left arm is called "The Follower." (The text isn't entirely clear on the translation here.) And each palm? Four thousands of myriads of parasangs. The right palm is named "Just," and the left, "Holy."
It's all so... vast. So beyond human comprehension. Why these impossible measurements? It's not meant to be taken literally, of course. These descriptions are symbolic, attempts to express the immensity and power of God in terms that, however inadequate, can still inspire awe.
The text concludes with a statement attributed to Metatron, the angelic scribe, who says, "Thus far have I beheld the height of Jedidiah, the Master of the world. Peace." This suggests that even the highest angels have limits to their perception of the Divine.
And then, almost as an aside, the text links these revelations to verses from the Song of Songs, the passionate love poem in the Hebrew Bible. "What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women?" and "My love is white and ruddy," and so on. What's the connection? The idea is that even in the most intimate human love, we can find echoes, reflections of the Divine. These earthly expressions are but pale reflections of the overwhelming love and beauty embodied in God.
So, what do we make of all this? It's a wild ride, isn't it? We can't truly know what God looks like. But through these mystical texts, we get a sense of the sheer, unbounded nature of the Divine. A reminder that there's always more to discover, more to experience, more to love. And maybe, just maybe, that's the point.