The Lord is (and isn't) my refuse collector

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?