One of Judaism’s earliest and most provocative concepts of the relationship of human beings with G-d has to do with G-d’s “face.” Think of the Priestly Blessing (“May G-d’s face shine upon you and be gracious to you; May G-d lift up His face to you—perhaps better ’smile upon you’—and give you peace.” And think of the description in Psalm 105 where we are told to “seek G-d’s face always”—become mevakshei penei elokim.
Just as these images paint a picture of a benign, smiling, radiant G-d, so too the opposite picture is a common fixture of Jewish theology. Psalm 104: “The earth is filled with Your creatures….All of them look to You to give them their food at the proper time…When you hide your face they feel panic.” When all is said and done, prayer is ultimately a yearning for G-d to “show His face,” to become present in a tangible way.
This concept is especially powerful on fast days (for example, Tisha B’av, or Yom Kippur) when we bemoan the fact that our relationship with G-d is broken. We find ourselves in a state of “hester panim,” a time when G-d is hiding His face from us.
On fast days, we add a special prayer called “Aneynu”—“Answer us”—to the Amidah, and it skillfully uses the imagery of G-d hiding His face, or looking in the wrong direction, to describe the pain of exile. “Don’t turn toward our wickedness; don’t hide Your face from us; and don’t absent Yourself from hearing our prayers.”
There’s a beautiful story that illustrates how crucial G-d’s face, hidden and revealed, is in determining our attitude toward life. A child once came running in tears to his father, a rabbi. “Why are you crying?” asked the concerned father. “We were playing hide and seek” said the little boy. “I hid, but no one came to look for me.” “Ah,” said his father the rabbi, “now I understand. Hashem says the same thing, all the time. He hides from us, but no one goes searching for Him.”