Not physical places, of course, but… well, let’s explore a fascinating passage from Shemot Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Exodus. It delves into a profound moment between God and Moses.

The verse in question: "Behold, there is a place with Me, and you shall stand on the rock" (Exodus 33:21). Rabbi Yosei bar Rabbi Ḥanina points out a key nuance. It doesn’t say, "Behold I am at this place," but rather, "there is a place with Me." What's the difference? It suggests, as Rabbi Yosei beautifully puts it, that "My place is ancillary to Me and I am not ancillary to My place." God isn't defined by a location. God is, and existence emanates from that being.

The passage continues with the famous verse about seeing God's back: "I will remove My hand and you will see My back, but My face will not be seen" (Exodus 33:23). But what does it mean? Shemot Rabbah interprets "I will remove My hand" as God showing Moses "the reward of the righteous that I am destined to grant them at the end of days.” Imagine that: a glimpse into the ultimate reward.

Rabbi Asi adds a layer, noting that even the prophets only saw hints of the Garden of Eden's delights, but not the actual, full reward. As Isaiah 64:3 says, "No eye has seen it, God, other than You, who will do for one who awaits Him.” Similarly, David in Psalms 31:20 exclaims, "How great is the goodness that You have stored for those who fear You!" It's a reward so immense, so beyond our comprehension, that it remains largely hidden.

Then comes the most striking part: “I will pass all My goodness before you and I will call in the name of the Lord before you, and I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious and I will have mercy upon whom I will have mercy” (Exodus 33:19). Notice the use of "all My goodness." The text emphasizes that even God’s punishments are, in a way, good. This idea echoes throughout Jewish thought – that even difficult experiences can ultimately serve a higher purpose.

God then shows Moses "all the storehouses of reward that are designated for the righteous." Moses asks to whom each storehouse belongs: those who perform mitzvot (good deeds), those who raise orphans, and so on. It's like a celestial accounting system of merit.

But then, Moses sees a great storehouse, one bigger than the rest. "Who does this storehouse belong to?" he asks. God replies, "One who has, I grant him from his reward; one who does not have, I grant it to him gratis, and I grant him from this."

This is a truly profound idea. This storehouse is for those who, for whatever reason, don't have merits readily apparent. Maybe they struggled, maybe they fell short, maybe life simply wasn't fair to them. This storehouse is for those who wouldn't otherwise have a claim to reward. The Etz Yosef commentary explains that it is "for people who did not have a right to receive reward from any other storehouse."

It highlights the boundless nature of divine grace, that God chooses “to be gracious to whom I wish to be gracious," and extends mercy "upon whom I will have mercy." This isn't about earning, it's about something deeper: unearned, freely given love and compassion.

So, what does this all mean for us? Perhaps it's a reminder that God's ways are often beyond our understanding. That even in the face of hardship, there is a potential for goodness, a hidden storehouse of grace waiting for those who need it most. It's a testament to the boundless compassion of the Divine, a compassion that extends even to those who seem to have the least. And maybe, just maybe, that's the most comforting thought of all.