If the universe is infinite, there is no way to prove it.  Proof deals with finite observable things.  Nothing can observe infinity.  Belief in the infinite requires a leap of faith.

FOREWORD

Many of the crises that we are currently faced with are at least partly the result of a false, incomplete, narrow, or incongruous understanding of the fundamental nature of things.

This work is not an attempt to resolve all of our finite problems.  It is an exploration of the infinite (and of some finite things in context with the infinite), and although this may help us address our problems, it might be just as fruitful to focus on our finite issues without a coherent understanding of the infinite – without a coherent understanding of what is fundamental across all of our finite problems. 

I have tried to keep this work as concise, straight-forward and uncontroversial as possible so that, among other reasons, it does not add to our confusion or distract us from addressing the problems at hand.

This work is by no means a complete understanding of the infinite, which is an impossibility, nor is it a complete understanding of the finite things discussed. 

And this work is probably not entirely correct.

INTRODUCTION

There are two narratives brilliantly woven together in Semitic scripture.  There is a narrative of finite things, and there is a narrative of things found throughout the infinite.

The narrative of the finite includes mythology, allegory, parables, riddles, prohibitions, commandments etc. - concerning finite things, with words that refer to finite things with which we are familiar such as mountains, kings, battles, cities, chariots, houses, people, etc.  This is the story of Semitic scripture that we are familiar with. 

The narrative of the infinite is embedded within this narrative of the finite, in the letters of the same words. 

By ‘Semitic scripture’, I mean scriptural works penned in a Semitic language which usually make reference to the characters, places and events found in the old testament, such as Moses, Jerusalem or the exodus.  These include:

·       The Hebrew old testament (OT) of the Bible.

·       The Aramaic [1] new testament (NT) of the Bible.

·       The Arabic Qur’an.

·       Other works which have not survived or were excluded from the Bible such as the book of Enoch.

(The term ‘Semitic’ does not merely mean ‘Jewish’.  Other peoples, such as the Arabs, are also referred to as Semitic peoples with Semitic languages.)

The alphabets of these Semitic languages stem from a common 22-letter alphabet called ‘Proto-Semitic’, which can be seen in some stone inscriptions in the Sinai peninsula and in Egypt. 

Each letter in this common Semitic alphabet represents something fundamental found throughout the infinite, such as motion, resistance or life. 

Whereas the narrative of the finite can be translated, more or less, into other languages (not to say that it has been translated properly), the narrative of the infinite is confined to the original language.

Each narrative helps the other. 

The narrative of the finite not only helps us to understand our finite situation here in this finite realm, it also provides the context to approach the narrative of the infinite, because we can only understand the infinite with finite examples. 

The narrative of the infinite adds richness to and clarifies ambiguities and contradictions in the narrative of the finite, and shows how, among other things, the different parts of the narrative of the finite work together in inter-related ways.

In the narrative of the finite, the authors can discuss what they believe to be good or bad, they can get things off their chest about the things they see around them, they can express their rantings and ravings, they can tell people what should be done and what should not; whereas in the narrative of the letters the authors are restricted from any such discussion because nothing is inherently good nor bad in context with the infinite.

By cloaking the narrative of the letters with stories – with conflict, heroes, love interests, tales of vast fortune, tales of crime and punishment, and the like, you can captivate the reader with fictional situations which he or she may relate to – or yearn for – in his or her own life.  And then by adding a little bit of the mysterious and a little bit of the miraculous, you can captivate the attention of those that are looking to escape the reality of their lives altogether.  And then by writing it in an historical tone by listing lengthy ‘genealogies’ and recounting seemingly mundane details of events, you might retain the interest of those who are looking for more factual documents.  These, and other factors, can make it so your book is copied and translated throughout the ages and over vast distances, preserving the underlying understanding of the infinite along with it, as long as – of course – it is accurately copied and distributed in the original language as well.

In order to explore the fundamental properties of the infinite in the guise of a story, the story might not make literal sense at times, and many things in the story may seem trivial.  This is because the story has to bend in order to explore such vast subject matter in the underlying narrative of the infinite.  This may cause disinterest in people who are not looking for unintelligible fantastical writings with boring lists of genealogies.

Another impediment inherent in this style of writing is that the surface narrative might be read alone, and obscure any attempt at looking deeper.  This is especially true of versions translated from the original language.  This is why obvious clues have to be left behind in order to urge the reader to take a closer look.

I can imagine yet another risk inherent in this style of writing.  If the reader uncovers the clues and notices that there is meaning in the letters, then seeing as the story is part and parcel with this deeper narrative, the reader might search within this narrative of the letters for understanding of what is good and what is bad, treating the narrative of the letters as merely an extension of the story.

But the use of stories to convey understanding of the infinite might, in some cases, be absolutely necessary, because, among other reasons, without a story, talk of the infinite can be a real bore, as you might experience yourself when first reading the section entitled ‘The Infinite In a Nutshell’ below.  If you see no application, no practical use, no finite examples in what you are reading, then your interest may wane.  But if you come to understand the universal application of these concepts in every moment and in every aspect of your life, you might then become greatly interested in exploring the infinite. 

The narrative of the finite – the story – provides for a quick reading and understanding that the intellect can easily grasp and commit to memory, and is useful for children or newcomers or for other folks who would otherwise have a harder time reading scripture if it were purely a symbolic narrative of the infinite using the letter-symbolism alone (as is essentially the case with the book of chronicles).  The reader can then, if he/she wishes(and is aware of it), engage in the narrative of the letters, keeping the story as a strong holding-place to not only enter into contemplation of the infinite, but also to return from this contemplation if he/she finds herself/himself lost in the symbolism of the letters.

But this is not to imply that the only thing worth exploring is the narrative below the surface.  There are many aspects to the narrative of the finite, which cannot all be explained by simply looking at the letters of the words.  It is not a crossword puzzle.  There are passages in Semitic scripture which use finite things to communicate concepts that might only be related to the narrative of the infinite in an indirect manner, and which may be quite elaborate and rich in meaning in their own right.

Keeping in mind that the new testament and the Qur’an make many a reference to the old testament, let us now briefly explore the fragmentary literature known as the ‘Kabbalah’ which, among other things, comments and expounds upon the old testament.

‘Kabbalah’ is the traditional and most commonly used term for the esoteric teachings of Judaism and for Jewish mysticism, especially the forms which it assumed in the Middle Ages from the 12^th century onward.  [2]

For Kabbalah, Judaism in all its aspects was a system of mystical symbols reflecting the mystery of God and the universe, and the Kabbalists’ aim was to discover and invent keys to the understanding of this symbolism.  [3]

Kabbalah, a term which simply means ‘to receive’, is not the only term used to refer to this:

The Talmud speaks of sitrei torah  and razei torah (“secrets of the Torah”)  [4]

In the mystical literature from the close of the talmudic period and afterward, the terms ba’alei ha-sod (“masters of the mystery”) and anshei emunah (“men of belief”) already occur.  [5]

In the period of the Provencal and Spanish Kabbalists the Kabbalah is also called hokhmah penimit (“inner wisdom”),  ……   and the Kabbalists are often called maskilim (“the understanding ones”), with reference to Daniel 12:10, or doreshei reshumot (“those who interpret texts”), a talmudic expression for allegorists.  [6]

From the beginning of the 14^th century the name Kabbalah almost completely superseded all other designations.  [7]

The term ‘Torah’ has different meanings.  It is most often used to refer to the first five books of the OT: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy, which are also together called the ‘Pentateuch’.  The term ‘Torah’, however, can also mean the entire bible or even the entirety of Jewish literature.

The Talmud is a record of various rabbinic discussions which outline and explore Jewish civil and religious laws and also provides commentary on the Hebrew scriptures.

At first the word ‘Kabbalah’ did not especially denote a mystical or esoteric tradition.  In the Talmud it is used [to refer to] the extra-Pentateuchal parts of the Bible, and in post-Talmudic literature the Oral Law is also called ‘Kabbalah’. [8]

The different works of the Kabbalah that remain with us today are contradictory to a great extent.  Hundreds of different authors approached the subject in their own unique ways. [9]  Even so, there existed a core set of symbols common to most of the authors, even though the use of these core symbols differed between the authors.

One group of symbols that the Kabbalists had in common were the 22 letters of the alphabet which constituted what they called the ‘divine language’.

Every letter and every word in every section of the Torah have a deep root in wisdom and contain a mystery from among the mysteries of understanding, the depths of which we cannot penetrate…

Abraham bar Hiyya [10]

The Torah is likened to a nut by some Kabbalists.  Just as a nut has an outer shell and an inner kernel, so too does the Torah.  Moses de Leon used the acronym PaRDeS to denote four levels of meaning in the Torah:

…P stands for peshat, the literal meaning, R for remez, the allegorical meaning, D for derasha, the Talmudic and Aggadic interpretation, S for sod, the mystical meaning. [11]  [12]

Just as in the body of a man there are limbs and joints, just as some organs of the body are more, others less, vital, so it seems to be with the Torah.  To one who does not understand their hidden meaning, certain sections and verses of the Torah seem fit to be thrown into the fire; but to one who has gained insight into their true meaning they seem essential components of the Torah.  Consequently, to omit so much as one letter or point from the Torah is like removing some part of a perfect edifice.  Thence it also follows that in respect of its divine character no essential distinction can be drawn between the section of Genesis 36, setting forth the generations of Esau [a seemingly superfluous passage], and the Ten Commandments, for it is all one whole and one edifice.

Azriel of Gerona [13]

Alas for the man who regards the Torah as a book of mere tales and [everyday] matters.  If this were so, we might even today write a Torah dealing in [everyday affairs] and still more excellent.  In regard to earthly things, the kings and princes of the world possess more valuable materials.  We could use them as a model for composing a Torah of this kind.  But in reality the words of the Torah are higher words and higher mysteries…

…When fools see a man in a garment that seems beautiful to them, they do not look more closely.  But more important than the garment is the body, and more important than the body is the soul.  So likewise the Torah has a body, which consists of the commandments and ordinances of the Torah, which are called gufe torah, (“bodies of the Torah”).  This body is cloaked in garments, which consist of worldly stories.  Fools see only the garment, which is the narrative part of the Torah; they know no more and fail to see what is under the garment.  Those who know more see not only the garment but also the body that is under the garment.  But the truly wise, the servants of the Supreme King, those who stood at the foot of Mount Sinai, [penetrate right through to the] soul, which is the true foundation of the entire Torah…

…Wine cannot be kept save in a jar; so the Torah needs an outer garment.  These are the stories and narratives, but it behoves us to penetrate beneath them.

Rabbi Simeon in the Zohar - III 152a [14]

Verily the Torah lets out a word and emerges a little from her sheath, and then hides herself again.  But she does this only for those who know and obey her.  For the Torah resembles a beautiful and stately damsel, who is hidden in a secluded chamber of her palace and who has a secret lover, unknown to all others.  For love of her he keeps passing the gate of her house, looking this way and that in search of her.  She knows that her lover haunts the gate of her house.  What does she do?  She opens the door of her hidden chamber ever so little, and for a moment reveals her face to her lover, but hides it again forthwith.  Were anyone with her lover, he would see nothing and perceive nothing.  He alone sees it and he is drawn to her with his heart and soul and his whole being, and he knows that for love of him she disclosed herself to him for one moment, aflame with love for him.  So is it with the Torah, which reveals herself only to those who love her.  The Torah knows that the mystic [hakim libba, literally, the wise of heart] haunts the gate of her house.  What does she do?  From within her hidden palace she discloses her face and beckons to him and returns forthwith to her place and hides.  Those who are there see nothing and know nothing, only he alone, and he is drawn to her with his heart and soul and his whole being.  Thus the Torah reveals herself and hides, and goes out in love to her lover and arouses love in him.  Come and see: this is the way of the Torah.  At first, when she wishes to reveal herself to a man, she gives him a momentary sign.  If he understands, well and good; if not, she sends to him and calls him a simpleton.  To the messenger she sends to him the Torah says: tell the simpleton to come here that I may speak to him.  As it is written [Prov. 9:47]: ‘Whoso is simple, let him turn in hither, she saith to him that wanteth understanding.’  When he comes to her, she begins from behind a curtain to speak words in keeping with his understanding, until very slowly insight comes to him, and this is called derashah. [derashah means here the mode of interpretation practiced by the Talmudists, by which they derived the exoteric oral doctrine from the words of Scripture in accordance with certain fixed norms]  Then through a light veil she speaks allegorical words [millin de hida] and that is what is meant by haggadah.  Only then, when he has become familiar with her, does she reveal herself to him face to face and speak to him of all her hidden secrets and all her hidden ways, which have been in her heart from the beginning.  Such a man is then termed perfect, a ‘master’, that is to say, a ‘bridegroom of the Torah’ in the strictest sense, the master of the house, to whom she discloses all her secrets, concealing nothing.  She says to him: do you see now how many mysteries were contained in that sign I gave you on the first day, and what its true meaning is?  Then he understands that to those words indeed nothing may be added and nothing taken away.  And then for the first time he understands the true meaning of the words of the Torah, as they stand there, those words to which not a syllable or a letter may be added and from which none may be taken away.  And therefore men should take care to pursue the Torah [that is, study it with great precision], in order to become her lovers as has been related.

Zohar, II, 99a-b [15]

Open thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of thy Torah.

Psalms 119:18

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BALAAM’S DONKEY

Balaam does not seem much surprised that his donkey opened its mouth and talked with him in Hebrew.

Some theologians that I have spoken with assert that in the Bible, allegorical passages are clearly delineated and everything else is a pure historical account, including this one with the talking donkey.

Just as with the talking serpent in the garden of Eden, I believe that it is an impossibility that the sound of the Hebrew language(or any language) can be produced by these creatures.  Do serpents even have any form of vocal cords?  And so I asked the same theologians if the creatures were speaking in a more indirect, intangible, spiritual way?  No, they replied.  Purely authentic Hebrew speech, period.

Although the things related in Semitic scripture might be inspired by actual history, it is fiction.

There is no ‘earlier’ and ‘later’ in the Torah.

Talmud: tractate Pesachim, 6b [16]

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These are the names and corresponding characters of the 22-letter common Semitic alphabet used throughout this work.

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THE OPENING GENEALOGY

The beginning of the genealogy of the Bible, in chapters 4 & 5 of Genesis, was set up as a clue for the reader and as an example of how the narrative of the letters is to be engaged.