The ancient mystics did, and they wrote about it in ways that still resonate today.
They weren't just writing poetry; they were trying to grasp the ungraspable: the nature of God. And one of the most evocative descriptions comes from a text called Heikhalot Rabbati, or "The Greater Palaces." It’s a deep dive into the world of Jewish mystical ascent, where the soul journeys through celestial palaces to get closer to the Divine.
In one particular passage, Heikhalot Rabbati 25, there’s this incredible litany – a cascading series of descriptions of God. It’s a King, but not just any king. This is the "King true and only, King who liveth forever." Already, the language is intense, right?
But it gets even more profound. This King isn't just a ruler; this is the source of everything. The text continues, "King who killeth and maketh alive, King who sayeth and doeth, King who formeth every disease, and createth every cure." Think about that for a second. The power to create and destroy, to inflict suffering and offer healing, all stemming from the same ultimate source. It’s a concept that challenges us, even today.
And it doesn't stop there. "King who maketh every blessing, and establish every good, King who feedeth all his works, and supporteth all his creatures." This is a God who is intimately involved in the world, sustaining it, nurturing it. A God who sees every sparrow fall, as the saying goes.
Then, there's this striking juxtaposition: "King who is high to each of the lowly, and who is strong to each of good courage." God is both transcendent, beyond our comprehension, and immanent, present in the lives of even the most humble and the most bold. It’s a reminder that no matter where we are on our journey, God is both above us, guiding us, and beside us, supporting us.
The litany continues, piling on adjectives: "King high and lifted up, sublime and wonderful, beloved and old, upright and faithful, precious and honored, strong and stout-hearted, righteous and true, holy and pure, pious, great and mighty, strong, powerful, precious, fearful and terrific, high-placed upon perfections of loftiness, established upon the adornments of splendour in the chambers of the palace of loftiness." It's almost overwhelming in its intensity. It's like the mystics are throwing every word they can find at the Divine, hoping something will stick, hoping to capture even a sliver of its essence.
And then, the hammer drops: "Who seest profundities, beholdest mysteries, observest dark matters, and who, in every place is..." The sentence trails off, unfinished. It's as if the writer simply ran out of words. Or perhaps, they realized that no words could ever truly capture the All-Encompassing nature of God.
The passage concludes with a stark reminder of God's omnipresence and omnipotence: "...and there is no changing His purpose, nor retorting to His word, nor delaying His will and there is no place to flee from Him, and no secret place to hide from before Him." You can’t bargain with this force. You can’t escape it.
It’s a powerful image. No matter where we go, no matter what we do, we are always in the presence of the Divine. It's both comforting and terrifying. Comforting because we are never truly alone, and terrifying because we are always accountable.
So, what does this all mean for us today? Well, maybe it's a call to humility. A reminder that we are part of something much larger than ourselves. And maybe it's also an invitation to awe, to wonder, to try, even if we ultimately fail, to grasp the mystery that surrounds us. Because, as Heikhalot Rabbati suggests, the journey itself is the destination.