Álfheimr

I. The Inescapable Existence of God

The origin of this inquiry lies in a deceptively simple and haunting question: what does it mean to exist eternally, with infinite power and knowledge, but without limitation? Can such a being, complete and absolute, find meaning in its own existence? If we follow the logic of omnipotence to its end, we arrive at a paradox: a being that can do all things cannot un-be. It cannot die, cannot forget, cannot lose. And in this, it becomes, ironically, the most limited entity of all.

Traditional theologies—from classical theism to mystical interpretations—tend to present God as outside of need or desire. In Thomistic thought, God is the “unmoved mover,” pure act with no potentiality. In the Kabbalistic concept of Ein Sof, God is infinite and unknowable, existing beyond all attributes. But such frameworks also evoke a chilling question: how does a perfect, complete being experience anything resembling fulfillment or joy? For joy presupposes lack; pleasure presupposes appetite; meaning presupposes danger of meaninglessness.

Without reliance, there can be no craving. Without craving, no delight. And without limitation, no value. In this light, infinite ability becomes indistinguishable from existential paralysis. To create endlessly without risk is to decorate the void.

Here, a radical shift in divine purpose becomes not just plausible but necessary. If God cannot escape Himself, if He cannot die or forget or truly change, then perhaps the only path forward is not expansion, but self-restraint. Not demonstration of power, but the cultivation of meaning through contrast. This would require God not to assert His will over all things, but to make space for something truly alien to Him: beings who are not Him, who possess their own fragile agency, and who may even reject Him.

In some mystical Jewish interpretations, particularly the doctrine of tzimtzum in Lurianic Kabbalah, God begins creation by contracting Himself, making room for something other than God to exist. This act of divine self-limitation is not one of absence, but of reverent restraint. It is a powerful conceptual foundation for imagining a God who cannot find meaning through control, but only through allowing unpredictability.

Thus, the cosmological narrative begins not with power, but with lack—not in the human, but in the divine. A God who is inescapably existent, and who, precisely because of this, seeks not worship or obedience as ends in themselves, but participation. Not puppets, but partners. The story of creation, then, is not the story of a God making the world because He could, but because He had to—for without it, His own existence would collapse into silence.

II. God Made Understandable

A common theological assertion is that God, by definition, must be beyond human comprehension. However, this claim stands in direct tension with a central biblical premise: “God created man in His image” (Genesis 1:27). If we are truly fashioned in the divine image, this likeness must transcend physical form and reach into the realms of intellect, consciousness, and emotional experience. For if humans were fundamentally unlike God in their mental and existential capacities, the idea of creating them to exercise genuine agency would fail on its very premise.

Indeed, Chapter I’s exploration into divine necessity and limitation illuminates why humanity must be ontologically close to God. If God’s motive for creation is to seek meaning through beings with authentic, self-determined agency, then these beings must share the essential capacities and conditions of God’s own existence. The divine goal would be undermined if humans were incapable of relating meaningfully to God’s experience. Consider the analogy of humans trying to derive satisfaction from exercising agency through ants or bacteria: the gulf in cognitive and existential capabilities renders such an interaction unfulfilling and meaningless. Genuine participation demands sufficient cognitive similarity.

Thus, God’s comprehensibility is not merely a theological detail; it is a fundamental necessity embedded in the purpose of creation. Humans must be able to understand, relate to, and engage meaningfully with God for divine purpose to be fulfilled. Far from diminishing God’s grandeur, this closeness elevates it—making the act of creation an expression of profound generosity and existential vulnerability. God’s understandable nature is neither a weakness nor limitation; it is precisely what makes the shared search for meaning possible and sacred.

This theological foundation aligns closely with the biblical portrayal of intimacy and closeness between God and humanity—a closeness consistently emphasized throughout scripture, and especially highlighted in the Book of Mormon. Although the divine-human relationship inherently contains a vast power and knowledge disparity, this relational closeness enables the divine love to be comprehensible and genuinely meaningful from the human perspective. If God were fundamentally incomprehensible, His love—the central bond connecting humanity to divinity—would lose its authenticity and power, becoming distant and alien. By asserting a relatable God, this interpretation makes God’s love real, tangible, and deeply human. It can thus be embraced wholeheartedly, free from fear of its alienness.

III. The Divine Interaction and the Principle of Non-Control

Building upon the established foundation, the traditionally observed interactions between God and humanity—rare divine interventions and the subtle guidance of the Holy Ghost—find a coherent place within this cosmological framework. God, in pursuit of existential meaning, divides Himself among humanity in the form of the Holy Ghost, thereby gathering and experiencing human lives indirectly. This distribution serves His overarching purpose of deriving meaning from genuinely autonomous experiences.

Occasional divine interventions and the gentle promptings of the Holy Ghost can thus be understood as moments when God exercises direct agency, akin to how a human observer might internally respond or wish to influence characters making controversial choices in a narrative. Yet crucially, these interventions and promptings must adhere to an absolute principle: non-control. The intrinsic value of God’s own agency depends entirely upon preserving the authenticity and integrity of human agency. Any divine influence that threatens this autonomy undermines the very reason for creation.

Consequently, divine “miracles” have become exceedingly rare in modern times. The guidance provided by the Holy Ghost is always gentle, subtle, and never imposed. It emerges exclusively when individuals actively seek it, thus preserving the sacred principle of human freedom and ensuring the ongoing co-creation of meaning between the divine and the mortal.

Therefore, within this model, acts traditionally labeled as sin or wrongdoing are not divinely condemned or inherently “wrong”; instead, they are seen as natural outcomes of genuine human agency. God does not impose a predetermined plan upon humanity; rather, He desires that humans create their own purpose and direction. There is no divine prescription for mortal existence, and all consequences—positive or negative—are entirely human-made. Individuals may aspire toward divinity, focus solely on fulfilling their mortal lives, or ideally, strive to accomplish both simultaneously.

IV. The Mormon Cosmology and the Three Kingdoms: An Architecture of Agency

Having established that divine meaning emerges through authentic human agency, the cosmological structure outlined by the Mormon tradition—particularly its three-tiered heavenly kingdom—offers an ideal framework for interpreting the final destiny of souls.

Traditional religious cosmologies often portray afterlife destinations in stark moralistic terms, with punishments and rewards directly meted out by a divine judge. In contrast, within this proposed cosmology, there is no place for divine retribution or eternal condemnation. All moral actions and their consequences are exclusively contained within the mortal sphere, products solely of human agency. Concepts of hell as eternal punishment may thus be seen as human attempts to impose divine legitimacy upon their own conceptions of justice. One clear sign of this tendency is the observable evolution of moral standards within religious communities themselves: even within short historical spans, definitions of right and wrong have shifted dramatically. This ongoing moral transformation suggests that any fixed or absolute divine judgment is unlikely. Instead, such moral frameworks reflect human perceptions and changeability, rather than an immutable divine will.

The Mormon vision of three heavenly kingdoms provides a uniquely fitting metaphor for understanding afterlife destinies in terms of agency exercised in life rather than as a reward-punishment mechanism. Each kingdom can be understood not as divine judgment but as a recognition of the kind of agency individuals most valued and expressed during their mortal lives.

The third and lowest kingdom would be inhabited by souls who primarily sought agency expressed through basic, instinctual drives and immediate pleasures, often at the expense of others—those who kill, steal, or harm, seeking immediate gratification rather than wisdom or connection. Their placement here is not punishment but rather an accommodation of their desires. It offers pure physical pleasure, but not deeper contentment or fulfillment—not because these are denied, but simply because these souls have not yet sought them. Importantly, this placement is neither eternal punishment nor permanent limitation; through eternal progression, all souls retain the opportunity to ascend as their values evolve.

The second kingdom houses those who exercised their agency more thoughtfully, seeking dignity, community, and deeper satisfaction within the constraints of mortal existence. They lived with integrity and genuine effort. This kingdom thus provides both physical pleasure and a deeper contentment aligned with their authentic desires. It honors the dignity and thoughtful agency they pursued in their lives.

The highest, first kingdom is the realm of those who fully embraced and actualized their agency, pushing back against mortal limitations to seek fulfillment beyond mere survival or satisfaction. These souls, irrespective of their specific earthly goals, used their agency vigorously, purposefully, and courageously. The reward of this highest kingdom is therefore not merely pleasure or contentment, but profound fulfillment shared intimately with God. God’s residence here is not favoritism, but affinity: these individuals exercised their agency in ways that most closely mirror the divine yearning, making them closest in experience to God Himself.

In this interpretation, Mormon cosmology transforms from a moralistic ladder of judgment into a compassionate acknowledgment of human freedom. Each kingdom, equal in divine respect, meets souls precisely where their agency led them, providing a setting that aligns with their most authentic selves. Thus, it honors the central cosmological principle of this essay: meaningful existence through genuine, autonomous human choice.

V. The Mutual Embrace: A Warmth Amidst Eternity

Ultimately, this cosmological framework presents a deeply intimate and warm portrait of divine-human relations. Rather than existing in isolation, divinity and mortality become mutually dependent partners, each needing the other to create and sustain meaning within an indifferent cosmos. Meaning itself becomes the shared currency of this eternal dialogue—continuously generated, exchanged, and renewed through acts of genuine agency and relational vulnerability.

In the vast, indifferent void that inherently strips existence of intrinsic purpose, God and humanity find comfort and purpose only through one another. God, eternal and limitless, finds authentic meaning solely through the finite experiences and autonomous choices of mortal beings. Conversely, humans, faced with the stark realities of mortality and insignificance, find ultimate purpose and dignity by situating their fleeting lives within the greater divine narrative, knowing their actions resonate eternally.

Thus emerges a profound mutual embrace—a fragile but resilient bond that grants warmth amidst eternity’s cold vastness. Together, humans and God navigate existence, each affirming the other’s significance, each providing solace against existential isolation. This sacred partnership becomes not merely a theological abstraction but a deeply human story of connection, understanding, and shared destiny. In embracing their mutual dependency, both divinity and humanity find meaning, warmth, and the courage to persist indefinitely.