In the shabbat musaf Amidah, there is a truly bizarre paragraph that speaks to the deepest paradox of prayer.
The central focus of the kedushah is the declaration “Holy, holy, holy is Ad-nai Tzvaot (“the Lord of Hosts”), the whole world is filled with G-d’s glory.” And this thought is seconded in the next paragraph, that begins, “G-d’s glory fills the universe.”
But then we have this (contradictory) exchange: “As one angelic chorus asks, ‘Where is the place of G-d’s glory?’ another responds: ‘Praised is Ad-nai’s glory wherever G-d dwells.’”
Note how jarring this is. After two declarations that G-d’s glory permeates the universe, the last thing we expect to hear—from angels, no less!—is the question “Where is the place of G-d’s glory?” And lest one imagine that this is just a rhetorical set-up for yet another reaffirmation of G-d’s ubiquity, the response points in an entirely different direction: It is not an answer to the question, “Where…?” but rather a sigh of resignation. “[We don’t know the place of G-d’s glory, but] G-d’s glory should be praised wherever G-d dwells.”
So we have a firm affirmation on the one hand and a resigned confession on the other. The contradiction between them is a reflection of the tension between theology and experience. Our theology assures us of G-d’s ubiquity. Our perception hints to us—or sometimes screams to us—of G-d’s absence.
This contradiction leads to another, even more daring thought. Perhaps finding the place of G-d’s glory is not a search for a firmly fixed place—a “where.” But rather the creation of a space where G-d could dwell—a “how.” So what the text is really saying is that once you praise G-d’s glory, that is where G-d dwells.
The Kotzker Rebbe, a great Chasidic master, was once asked “Where is G-d to be found?” His answer is not merely theological. It is also personally inspirational—and demanding: “G-d is to be found wherever you let G-d in.”