The emperor of Rome once put a mocking question to Rabbi Yehoshua ben Hananyah. "Why is your God compared to a lion? Any knight in my army can kill a lion. What kind of comparison does that make for the deity you want us to take seriously?"
Rabbi Yehoshua did not dispute the emperor's hunting record. He answered by drawing a distinction. "The lion your knights kill," he said, "is one ordinary lion. The comparison in Scripture is to the lion of Deblai, the lion of the forest of Ilai. That is a different creature."
The emperor, being the emperor, demanded to see this lion.
Rabbi Yehoshua prayed, and the lion of Deblai began to travel from its forest toward Rome. At a distance of three hundred miles, it opened its mouth for the first time and roared. Every woman in Rome who was with child miscarried. The sound traveled ahead of the animal like a storm front. At a distance of two hundred miles the lion roared again, and the teeth fell from the mouths of the men of Rome. The emperor heard the second roar and fell from his throne to the floor of his own palace.
"Rabbi," the emperor pleaded from the marble, "send it back." Rabbi Yehoshua prayed again, and the lion returned to its forest. The city of Rome picked up its knocked-out teeth and straightened its emperor's robes.
The Exempla of the Rabbis, compiled by Gaster from medieval manuscripts including the Ma'aseh Book, preserves the exchange. The point is straightforward. When Scripture compares God to a lion, it is not drawing on the zoology your knights are familiar with. There is a lion even the emperor cannot remain standing to face. And God is still a step beyond that.