If I am in Jesus' skin, how shall I speak of God?
Tillich offered being itself as the best metaphor for God. And so, every thing in this dazzling universe might be tried as a potential pointer to the divine; if only by virtue of its existence it reveals divinity. The entire universe is revelatory. Earth points to heaven. Naturally, then, we find that analogies and metaphors litter spiritual discourse. May we then hope to find analogies and metaphors for God wherever we look? After all, Jesus gathered them freely enough from his immediately visible world of agriculture, business and the family.
In any metaphor, two different categories are connected, and each category affects the other. How much more so in religious metaphor. If, for example, someone writes that 'the Lord is my refuse collector', we learn something of the writer's view of the divine; but do we not also see refuse collectors in a new light? The tension in the metaphor is felt at either end.
Well then, we'd better take care in our coining of metaphors. Repetition may be a problem. If the Lord is always my Father, then three problems may follow. Firstly, earthly fathers may be seen in an overly-favourable light, being buoyed up by association with the Almighty, in contrast to earthly mothers, who are not ever, under this hypothesis, presented as pictures of God. Secondly, we may lose sight of the metaphorical nature of the language, with the consequence of limiting God to one earthly comparison. And so thirdly, any failings in human fathers may be imbued with an unchallengeable sense of authority.
'Jesus is Lord' rolls off the tongue like a jingle. Perhaps I should find other metaphors for God, for at least three reasons. Firstly, Lordship is a culturally obsolete metaphor. Secondly, wonder has become a casualty of repetition; the metaphor by no means teases our minds. Thirdly, it is another male metaphor drawn from a patriarchal world in which most divine metaphors are masculine.
This yields three guidelines for experimenting with lively God-metaphors. We should draw from today's culture; we should experiment with new images; and we should borrow from female experience.
Along with this, we should use devices to undermine all our positive statements about God. Otherwise we give the false impression that God is now fully grasped, and create an idol.
What is affirmed about God, must also be denied. Paradox must be embraced. Metaphors may be piled up together so that each qualifies the others and none may have the last word. Or we may make a frank declaration of linguistic failure. As Karl Rahner once wrote, "What shall I say to you my God? Shall I give you all the names of this world, you, the Unnameable?" He went on to heap up dozens of names for God, having assured us that none of them will do.
Jesus dug up an occasionally-used Hebrew scripture metaphor for God: Father. He made it his central image in a quite startling and fresh way. God was Abba, close and authoritative. Also, there is some evidence that Jesus revealed God as Father so as to undermine the patriarchal world in which fathers enjoyed considerable power. Their authority was usurped by God himself!
This leads me in two directions at once. Firstly, I want to retain the metaphor - it is a Jesus metaphor, and I am therefore reluctant to discard it or even demote it. But therein lies the opposite direction. Am I idolising the metaphor itself, and so losing all purchase on the transcendent God? To live in Jesus' skin, should I not also find a fresh way of expressing the combination of intimacy and respect that belonged with the Abba term?
Monday, April 21, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Conspiracy of forgiveness
When I was speaking on Sunday I encouraged my listeners to join the conspiracy of forgiveness. Some have wondered: Is it appropriate to speak of a 'conspiracy'?
I use the word because it suggests the undermining of the status quo. Conspirators gather together and plot about changing the way the world is seen; about changing the world itself. Conspirators need to be careful, because their plotting might be a threat to the world's prevailing powers. Conspirators explore, rehearse, develop and ultimately implement a new way of being.
In Jesus' skin, we offer forgiveness to the world as a fundamental dimension of human existence. The world's ills cannot be pinned on some external group. I am part of the problem too. Scapegoating is out. This undermines much of the world's systems. Social life in South-West Surrey and the British presence in Iraq both have this in common: there are good guys and bad guys; there are nice people and nasty people; there are cool people and uncool people. The conspiracy of forgiveness says we're all good guys and we're all bad guys.
The conspiracy also allows you to accept yourself. Whatever your talents, characteristics and gifts, you will most probably also be aware of some of your flaws and failings. To forgive yourself is tough. To conspire deliberately against all that supposes your acceptability stems from your own merit is to be in touch with the classic foundation of faith: being rescued through trusting God's forgiving nature. There are very likely voices within you that insist you are an unworthy, unacceptable human being. If so, you must conspire against these voices.
The conspiracy of forgiveness furthermore challenges us to be radically hospitable towards anyone. If we are ourselves accepted on the basis of divine grace, we are called to follow this through in our relationships with our fellow human beings. Again, 'conspiracy' is a helpful term, because it is all too easy to overlook our own prejudices. We need to be conscious, reflective, deliberate and discursive as we seek to live in Jesus' skin encountering people who are far from acceptable according to the world's dominant culture.
Finally, the conspiracy of forgiveness suggests a form of prayer. In prayer we conspire with God's Spirit against all mean-spirited judgmentalism in ourselves and in the wider world, yearning in our deepest being for the new reality of the Kingdom of God to be more deeply and widely experienced.
I use the word because it suggests the undermining of the status quo. Conspirators gather together and plot about changing the way the world is seen; about changing the world itself. Conspirators need to be careful, because their plotting might be a threat to the world's prevailing powers. Conspirators explore, rehearse, develop and ultimately implement a new way of being.
In Jesus' skin, we offer forgiveness to the world as a fundamental dimension of human existence. The world's ills cannot be pinned on some external group. I am part of the problem too. Scapegoating is out. This undermines much of the world's systems. Social life in South-West Surrey and the British presence in Iraq both have this in common: there are good guys and bad guys; there are nice people and nasty people; there are cool people and uncool people. The conspiracy of forgiveness says we're all good guys and we're all bad guys.
The conspiracy also allows you to accept yourself. Whatever your talents, characteristics and gifts, you will most probably also be aware of some of your flaws and failings. To forgive yourself is tough. To conspire deliberately against all that supposes your acceptability stems from your own merit is to be in touch with the classic foundation of faith: being rescued through trusting God's forgiving nature. There are very likely voices within you that insist you are an unworthy, unacceptable human being. If so, you must conspire against these voices.
The conspiracy of forgiveness furthermore challenges us to be radically hospitable towards anyone. If we are ourselves accepted on the basis of divine grace, we are called to follow this through in our relationships with our fellow human beings. Again, 'conspiracy' is a helpful term, because it is all too easy to overlook our own prejudices. We need to be conscious, reflective, deliberate and discursive as we seek to live in Jesus' skin encountering people who are far from acceptable according to the world's dominant culture.
Finally, the conspiracy of forgiveness suggests a form of prayer. In prayer we conspire with God's Spirit against all mean-spirited judgmentalism in ourselves and in the wider world, yearning in our deepest being for the new reality of the Kingdom of God to be more deeply and widely experienced.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)