And it's a question that dances at the heart of a fascinating passage from the Midrash of Philo.

Philo, a Jewish philosopher who lived in Alexandria around the time of Jesus, grappled with how to reconcile Greek philosophy with Jewish tradition. His writings, known as The Midrash of Philo, offer unique interpretations of the Torah. In one particularly insightful section, Philo tackles the nature of God’s immobility.

He starts by contrasting the perceived motion of the "gods who are in heaven" – the celestial bodies, perhaps – with the steadfastness of the "Supreme Cause," that is, God. These lesser deities, visible to our eyes, move in circles, ever changing. But God, according to the ancients, is immovable.

But here's where it gets interesting. Philo suggests that even though God is inherently still, He sometimes gives the impression of motion. How? Through the prophets! Even without speaking aloud, God communicates. Prophets hear Him "by a certain virtue of some diviner voice sounding in their ears." It's as if God, while remaining fixed, still manages to convey a sense of dynamic presence.

Think about that for a moment. We often imagine God acting, intervening, even "walking" among us. But Philo challenges us: is that really God we're seeing, or a reflection of our own restless nature?

Philo argues that before humanity tasted "wickedness" – before the Fall, perhaps? – they were "stable and constant, and immoveable and tranquil." In that state of purity, they would have perceived God as He truly is: immoveable. But once cunning entered the picture, once humans became prone to change and variation, they projected those qualities onto God. They "began to strip him of his attributes of immobility and unchangeableness, and conjectured that he too was subject to variation and change."

In other words, our own instability leads us to believe that God is also unstable. We see the world as a swirling vortex of change, and we assume God must be caught up in it too. But Philo suggests that this is a profound misunderstanding.

So, what are we to make of this? Is God truly immobile, a fixed point in the universe? Or is Philo pointing to something deeper about the human condition: our tendency to create God in our own image? Perhaps the real journey isn't about understanding God's nature, but about understanding our own. And maybe, just maybe, finding that stillness within ourselves allows us to perceive the true, unwavering nature of the Divine.