God is infinite and boundless, while all else is finite and limited. God has no end, no conclusion—in no respect does He know bounds. You, I, all plants, animals, and inanimate matter—whatever exists in this cosmos—none of it is infinite; all is finite, all has an ending. And it is for this reason that our compassion, our empathy, our mercy and kindness, all the movements of our heart, our very knowledge—all of these too are finite, confined within limits.
The cosmos is constituted in such a manner that all things within it are bounded by space. Everything in the world—whatever exists—is confined to some place or other. Matter must occupy space; therefore it is limited by the extent of that space. Even something as vast as the sun, the earth, and all the planets and stars—each is bounded by the space it inhabits. That is to say, their physical forms extend no further than the space they occupy; beyond the space they inhabit, there lies still more space stretching into the infinite.
Just as everything in the cosmos is bounded by space, so too is everything bounded by time. An event occurs in the moment it occurs; a thing exists in a place during the time it exists there; knowledge that comes to me, a feeling I harbor in my mind—these exist only in that moment, not in others. The very fact that we cannot simultaneously know or contemplate different things at once is itself proof that our thoughts and knowledge are limited, confined within temporal bounds.
Now perhaps you understand: everything that exists or has existed or will exist in this world has a limit, had limits, and will have limits. In short, all things in the world are finite, bounded. Precisely because we ourselves are limited, we can perceive that which transcends limitation—we can discern that something lies beyond the finite, for we see and know that beyond our boundaries, beyond our range of vision, there exists vastly more space; beyond the horizon of our knowledge, there lies vastly more knowledge; and beyond the span of our years, there stretched and stretches vastly more time.
Consider first the matter of space. This writing occupies so much room; yet beyond it lies much more space. Again, in that remaining space, this table occupies one portion; yet beyond it lies much more room. Again, in that remaining space, this house stands in one corner; yet still more space lies beyond. And so, looking ever outward, one begins to perceive that no matter how much space things in this world may claim, there always remains additional space left over.
Even if every point on earth were covered by some object, you would still find that beyond the space occupied by the earth, the cosmos contains vast regions yet unused; in that additional space reside the sun, the moon, the planets and stars. Consider it in this way and you will grasp that however many things fill the cosmos, there still remains additional space beyond them—for otherwise, how could those very things exist at all?
Where is this boundless space?—In the sky. The sky is nothing but a vast expanse of space—so immense that we cannot even fathom its measure. Everything that was, is, or will be in this world existed, exists, or will exist somewhere within this sky—nothing can exist outside it. Because we ourselves are confined to space, it is precisely through the sky that we glimpse infinity from another direction. The sky is infinite, and therefore it holds all things within itself. For this reason, certain sages have named God by one of His names—the sky—to convey His infinite nature.
But is this very sky truly infinite and boundless? No, it is not. We ourselves can divide it and say, this much space, that much space. From our very ability to delimit space comes the understanding that even if we cannot see or grasp the entirety of the sky within fixed bounds, the sky must have some limit—only we lack the power to percece it. To know that limit, we would need a knower more infinite than the infinite sky itself. That infinite being is God Himself, infinite and eternal.
Just as we have seen that God is infinite in space, so too is He infinite in time. I have said before that all of creation is bounded by time as it is by space. When an event occurs, when knowledge arises, or when a feeling stirs in the mind—all this happens in its appointed moment. For that event, that knowledge, or that feeling, only that measure of time is fixed. Yet we know that countless moments passed before that time, and countless will follow after. You know well enough that in that distant past, numberless events have already transpired, and from this you can readily imagine that in times yet to come, countless more events will unfold.
Where do these events occur or will occur? In time. Time is so vast that we cannot encompass its totality even in imagination. No event—past, present, or future—can occur without time. However far back we can reach in conception, there stretches before it still deeper ages of the past. However far forward we can stretch our vision, beyond it lies still vaster stretches of time yet to come. Because we are confined within time, it is from the opposite direction that time reveals to us another aspect of infinity. Time is infinite, and therefore it contains all its events. Because time is infinite, God—who alone can know the limits of infinite time—must Himself be infinite in duration. Such is the eternal nature of the Divine.
Yet even this time is not truly infinite or boundless. Whether we reckon from sunrise or by any other means, we are able to divide time and speak of it in portions—this much duration, that much duration, one hour, one day, and so forth. The very fact that we possess the power to demarcate time in this way tells us that, even if we cannot hold all of time within our minds, time itself must have some limit. Call it sky or call it time—if either were purely infinite, they could never come within the bounds of our finite divisions. But grasping that limit of time lies beyond our capacity. To know that limit would require an infinite being, possessed of infinite knowledge, enduring infinite ages. That infinite being is the infinite God. Because we gain some glimpse of that infinite being's infinite nature through this very time, the devout and noble have given God another name—Mahakaal, the Great Time.
When God is infinite in space and infinite in time, it requires little difficulty of understanding that He must also be infinite in all states of being, in knowledge, and in such matters. I have already said that there are events and occurrences unconnected to states of being and knowledge—yet these too rest upon time or duration. We come to know that at such a moment, such a feeling arose in our mind; at such a moment, we gained knowledge of such a matter. Thus in our understanding, we cannot conceive of any state, knowledge, or event apart from time. And indeed, in truth we observe that every event in the world depends in some way upon space or time. When God is infinite with respect to that space and time, and when He is possessed of infinite knowledge, then surely He must also be infinite in states of being, knowledge, and all such things.
We have spoken much of God's infinity, yet can our finite knowledge truly comprehend it? Though we cannot fully grasp God's infinity, this much can be said: from time to time, with our limited knowledge, we may touch the very edge of His infinite nature. We know—precisely because we are finite—that there exists one infinite, supreme being, upon whom we depend, upon whom the sky and time itself depend. Yet though we may come to know this through understanding, we cannot always feel His presence. Only when we draw our knowledge away from the small events and words of the world, when we strive to unite our knowledge with His knowledge, when we seek to join our will with His will—only then do we, for a fleeting moment, as if in a flash of lightning, feel His presence in our hearts.
All the knowledge and feeling we obtain in this world come from that infinite treasury of knowledge and feeling. Yet do not suppose that this inexhaustible storehouse has suffered any diminishment or loss. God has established this remarkable law: when knowledge, feeling, and such things are shared with others, nothing of them is diminished. Consider: you know that two and two make four. When you impart this knowledge to another, does it diminish in any way? If you extend your compassion to all living creatures, does that compassion decrease even a little? Rather, through practice such qualities of the mind increase. In precisely the same way, that infinite Supreme Being has scattered His treasury of knowledge, His treasury of feeling throughout the world, yet His infinity suffers no deficiency thereby. In short, He knows no diminishment of any kind.