Does God have a face?
Table for Five: Ki Tisa
In partnership with the Jewish Journal of Los Angeles
Edited by Nina Litvak & Salvador Litvak, the Accidental Talmudist
You will not be able to see my face, for man shall not see Me and live. – Exodus 33: 20
Rabbi Pinchas Winston
Thirtysix.org / Shaarnun Productions
How do you convey in 250 words that this verse is one of the most kabbalistic, alluding to hugely important insights about life in this world and the World to Come? You start by asking one very simple question: What face? Does God have a face? One of the fundamentals of fundamentals is that God is not the least bit physical, so He certainly doesn’t have a physical face. Part of the answer has to do with understanding the question. What did Moshe want when he asked God to show him His glory? He wanted access to a much higher level of Divine light than was normally humanly possible. Until that point, our awareness of God was like looking at the back of someone’s head, which doesn’t reveal definitive information about the person. But if you can see a person’s face, you not only recognize them but you can see what they are thinking and feeling. A face reveals to the outside what a person feels on the inside, which, in the case of God, meant a more profound understanding of who God is and how He works. Not only this, but if you can only see the back of a head, it means they have already passed by, and you’re seeing them go. When you can see their face, it means you can see them coming. God’s answer? “One day, but not now, because that level of light would kill you, and the world still needs a Moshe Rabbeinu.”
Rabbi Yoni Dahlen
Spiritual Leader / Congregation Shaarey Zedek, Southfield MI
A shared trait of most religious and philosophical systems is the individual or communal journeying towards a specific lofty objective. Some religious traditions seek Truth. Others seek Wisdom, and still others seek Peace.
Judaism seeks Union.
The pulse of Jewish theology, from the Hebrew Bible to modern Jewish thought, is the resolute search for how, where, and when to make Heaven and Earth touch. Our purpose, as Jews, is paradoxical by nature. We are meant to seek God’s face, to fully see and comprehend our Creator, and to also understand that “none shall see God’s face and live.”
So how do we do that? How do we find sanctity in knowing God, while avoiding getting too close to that sanctity? For me, the answer lies in the work of two great Jewish thinkers, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel and the French philosopher, Emmanuel Levinas. Coming from two dramatically disparate approaches, Heschel and Levinas arrive at the same conclusion:
We see God through experiencing the other. Through allowing our hearts to fully confront the heart of a friend, a neighbor, a loved one, or even a stranger. To sit face to face with full vulnerability, with our guards down, knowing that doing so could easily get us hurt, and to do it anyway, because it is beautiful, because it is holy, because it is right. It is seeing the refractions of the Divine through God’s partner in creation, people, individuals, unique sparks of existence that allows us to see God and live.
Mitchell Keiter
Certified Appellate Specialist, Keiter Appellate Law
Who wouldn’t want to see God’s face? And who wouldn’t want to understand the inner workings of God’s mind? But we may infer from the verse that such knowledge is incompatible with what it means to be human.
The Sages had the chance to know what God thought but actually declined. The Talmud relates the debate over the oven of Akhnai, where Rabbi Eliezer calls on the Voice of God to resolve a dispute. Surprisingly, rather than embrace God’s expressed position, the other Sages ignore it: “When scholars dispute the Law, what business is it of yours?” [Bavli, Bava Metsia 59b.]
Their reaction actually makes sense. They had their role in studying, learning, and applying Torah. If God showed the answer to every question, what would be left for humans to do? Better for us to make decisions—even imperfect ones—for ourselves, than to get all the “correct” answers straight from God. It is the process of reading, studying, discussing, and growing that matters, not the simple outcome of the answer.
Now we all face this choice. AI offers to draft our essays and assignments, and promises perfection for every email. We need no longer read because Chat GPT can provide a summary. Should we thus outsource our thinking? Or will we all say and read the same thing and thereby forfeit our unique voices and interpretations? If we make this Faustian bargain, we will still exist, but will no longer “live” as we had before.
Rabbi Chaim Tureff
Rav Beit Sefer at Pressman Academy and Author of “Recovery in the Torah”
Our ability to see is truly a miracle. The eyes are made up of over 2 million working parts and can distinguish between over 10 million colors. Every morning we have a blessing, Pokeach Evrym, which thanks Hashem for opening our eyes. And yet we are clearly told that we are unable to see God’s face and live. As the Sforno states, “your inability to see what you would like to see is not due to God depriving you… but is rooted in man’s inability to ‘see’ such things unless you had died first, as an eye of flesh and blood cannot ‘see’ such things.” If Hashem wanted us to see Hashem, we would be able to. But maybe that is what God is telling us. We have the things that we see and the things we don’t see. How many times do we have things right in front of us and we don’t see it? Take a moment to really look at something and you will notice beautiful intricacies. Naturally, we take for granted our sight. By not being able to see Hashem, we are left with the allure that there is something that is beyond our comprehension (quite frankly there are many things that are beyond our comprehension). Instead we are to use our faith, instincts and our proverbial third eye to really grasp those things we can’t see. By not being able to see God, it requires us to cultivate the relationship on a much deeper level.
Rabbi Bentzion Kravitz
JewsForJudaism.org
Before moving to Israel, I was asked to assist a family facing a crisis: their elderly Jewish mother, Carol, had converted to Christianity while in hospice care in Los Angeles. A caregiver, believing they were acting in her best interest, had shared the Gospel with her so that Carol could “get to heaven” before she passed. As a result, her children were left feeling angry and desperate.
When I met with Carol, she explained that she needed a “tangible God” to believe in. To help her see this from a different perspective, I used a simple analogy: I asked her to name something tangible that people crave. She chose “gold.” I noted that while gold is physical and precious, people can live their entire lives without ever possessing it.
Then I asked her what element is most essential for life. When she answered, “air,” I pointed out the irony that, although gold is heavy and glitters, it is difficult to find and unnecessary for survival. On the other hand, although air is invisible, it is essential, everywhere and easily accessible.
In fact, an invisible God “that man cannot see” is far more accessible than a tangible one. Because God isn’t confined to a physical form or a single location, God is always present, always available, and closer than we realize. After considering my analogy, Carol recognized her mistake and tearfully recited the “Shema” in recognition of her one true God.
With thanks to Rabbi Pinchas Winston, Rabbi Yoni Dahlen, Mitchell Keiter, Rabbi Chaim Tureff and Rabbi Bentzion Kravitz.
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