And as we learn from Midrash Tehillim, it’s a question that might be missing the point entirely.
The Midrash, a collection of rabbinic teachings interpreting the Book of Psalms, tells a story about this very question. It starts with a simple statement: "I will bless the Lord." But then it quickly delves into the unknowable. "As for this soul," the text says, "no one knows its place and where it is situated." And just as we can't pinpoint the location of the soul, so too, "no creation knows [God's] place." Not even the divine beings surrounding the Throne of Glory. All they can proclaim, as we find in Ezekiel 3:12, is "Blessed be the glory of the Lord from His place."
The story really takes off with an encounter between a man and Rabbi Gamliel, a prominent Jewish leader of the first century. The man boldly asks Rabbi Gamliel, "In what place is He situated?" Rabbi Gamliel, honest as ever, admits, "I do not know."
Can you imagine? The man is incredulous. "Is this your prayer and wisdom," he challenges, "that you pray before Him every day and yet you do not know where He is situated?"
Rabbi Gamliel, however, turns the question inward. He tells the man, "You ask me about a matter that is distant from me by a five hundred year journey. Yet, I will ask you about one matter that is with you day and night. Tell me, in what place is it situated?"
The man is confused. "Who is it?" he asks.
"It is the soul that is situated within you," Rabbi Gamliel replies. "Tell me in what place it is situated."
The man, stumped, admits, "I do not know."
This is the heart of the midrash, isn't it? Rabbi Gamliel's response is sharp: "May the spirit of that man perish, for what is this that is situated within you and you do not know its place? Yet, you ask me about a matter that is distant from me by a five hundred year journey?" In other words, how can we hope to understand the divine when we don't even understand ourselves?
The man, still not quite getting it, tries another angle. "If that is so, then they do well who prostrate themselves to His work, for they behold Him at all times." He’s suggesting that by focusing on God’s creations, we can somehow see God.
But Rabbi Gamliel corrects him again. "You see His work, but they do not see you. And the Holy One, blessed be He, beholds His work, but His work does not behold Him, as it is stated: 'For man may not see Me and live' (Exodus 33:20)." The relationship isn’t reciprocal. Our limited human perspective can’t grasp the totality of God.
The midrash drives the point home with a reference to the prophet Ezekiel. "Know that this is what happened to Ezekiel, for when he saw His likeness, his soul departed from him, as it is stated: 'And I saw, and I fell upon my face' (Ezekiel 1:28)." Even a prophet, in the moment of divine vision, was overwhelmed to the point of collapse.
So, what does this all mean? Is the Midrash saying we shouldn’t seek to understand God? Not at all. But perhaps it’s suggesting that the way we seek understanding matters. Maybe the question of God's location is less important than the question of our own location, our own understanding of ourselves and our place in the universe.
The Zohar, the foundational text of Jewish mysticism, emphasizes the idea of Ein Sof, the "Infinite" or "Without End." This concept suggests that God is beyond all comprehension, beyond all definition. Trying to pinpoint God's location, then, might be like trying to fit the ocean into a teacup.
Instead of searching for God in a specific place, maybe we should be searching for God within ourselves, within our actions, within our relationships. Maybe the divine isn't a destination, but a journey. And maybe, just maybe, the journey is the point.