A ‘Non-religious’ Critique of ‘God’ Language - 2
3. After many years of careful observation/deliberation, I have come to the conclusion and, therefore, work off the premise that all ‘God’ language is morphic (e.g., anthopo-, socio-, cosmo-, . . .), though I remain open to and in search of exceptions. Nicolai Berdyaev (d. 1948) – an exiled Russian theologian whose writings I discovered in my early attempts to teach a current religious thought graduate course – added for me the ‘sociomorphic’ and ‘cosmomorphic’ categories to the more widely discussed ‘anthropomorphic’ category. ‘God’ language is morphic in that ‘God’ can only be conceptualized in terms of finite points of reference – i.e., human (e.g., “God said . . .” or “God saw . . .”), social (e.g., “God is king . . .” or “God shepherds . . .”), cosmological (e.g., “God looked down . . .” or “God caused the sun to stand still . . .”). A corollary to this premise is that ‘God’ language may have metaphorical, symbolic, parabolic, mythological, allegorical, existential, . . . meanings – but such meanings are clearly separate from making (or leaving unexamined) equivalent associations between ‘God’ and the finite point/s of reference. I think a statement such as “God is love” comes very near to being an exception to the premise that all ‘God’ language is morphic (‘near’ in that ‘is’ tugs even this statement back into the human sphere, unless “Love is God” is interchangeable with “God is love”).
But the following questions cannot be avoided except by discarding as insignificant the reminder about the limitations of ‘God’ language: Why “God is love” rather than hate? Why “God favors meekness” rather than power? Why “God favors peace” rather than war? Why “God is fair” rather than biased? Why “God is aligned with the vulnerable” rather than the strong? Why . . . ? A response to such questions that appeals to ‘revelation’ falls short (at least for me) because the phrase “God reveals/ed” is anthropomorphic. (Also, some parts of the Jewish and Christian canons speak of ‘God’ in terms of hate, power, war, bias, alignment with the strong, . . .) It seems to me that, re the above questions, individuals within the ‘religious’ sphere on the liberal end of the theological spectrum (with their emphasis on the consistent moral character of ‘God’) may struggle more than those on the fundamentalist end of the theological spectrum (with their emphasis on the sheer sovereignty of ‘God’, even if actions attributed to ‘God’ violate moral wisdom or conscience).
4. By regarding all ‘God’ language as morphic, I do not mean that such language is necessarily false or without force. Such language is (for me at least) false and without force if/when (1) the morphic nature of the language is disregarded and/or (2) the language would draw me back or away from the resolve to be the sort of person who can be truly present, without regard for theological or spiritual cost, with human beings who are experiencing the worst in life. This position raises a question as to the origin of the resolve. By committing to “for better or for worse” eighteen months before my first wife was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, I came to the test with this resolve in mind but with no sustained traumatic/extreme experience. As the months and then years passed (she died fourteen years later), any conditional (i.e., ‘if/since . . . , then . . .’) underpinnings to this resolve failed -- e.g., “be like ‘God’”, “imitate ‘Jesus’”, “apply the Golden Rule”, “mirror the Good Samaritan”, “be a good Boy Scout”, “please my parents”, . . . . But the resolve, instead of collapsing without the motivation of a mandate or an example, actually became clearer -- a consequence upon which I have reflected for many years now. Why did the resolve to remain truly present with my stricken wife not break down as/when the conditions upon which the resolve might have depended melted under the heat of indiscriminate inquiry combined with deep respect for those for whom life is tragic? I think it was because the day-to-day reality of chronic illness kept the decisions concrete. I had no time either to consider the decisions from an abstract/theoretical perspective or to experiment with other options. And the options were all variations on two themes – i.e., either to or not to remain fully present past the point of existential, spiritual, and theological risk/danger. Her illness – being ‘innocent’, random, and, therefore, not intentionally inflicted – made my finitude/vulnerability unavoidably clear. To have withdrawn to a safe distance from her would have been to adopt a way of being that would have imposed limits/conditions on every other human relationship. If I could not be unconditionally present with someone I had invited to trust me to be present “for better or for worse”, then I would not be so present with anyone else. The Ecclesiastes essay and the story of the ‘scrapheap’ Job were strategic for me at this point in making clear the profound damage to integrity that results when life is lived so as to remain at a safe distance from victims whose experience testifies to the breadth/depth of tragic suffering and discredits ‘God’ language that is used/heard as literally equivalent to the finite reference points.
5. I do not think or speak in terms of “knowing God” or “God answered my prayer” or “God led me” or “Jesus spoke to me” or . . . . The morphic nature of ‘God’ language keeps me from interpreting life experiences in these ways. (Having grown up within a fundamentalist thought-world that advocated a very non-experiential approach to spirituality, my reservations about the experiences claimed in these phrases do not represent a traumatic break with my upbringing on this point.) To/for me, experiencing intimacy or ‘oneness’ with another human being -- perhaps the greatest challenge in life -- is as profound or ultimate or sacred as experience is in this life and, therefore, as near as I come to experiencing ‘God’. I find something of this indirect and unintentional dynamic for experiencing ‘God’ in the surprised reaction of those commended in the Matthew 25:31-46 story. Among the several motivations to consider this experience of intimacy or ‘oneness’ with another human being as indirectly and, in a sense, indirectly or unconsciously experiencing ‘God’ is the need to protect those very special relationships from idolatry.
But the following questions cannot be avoided except by discarding as insignificant the reminder about the limitations of ‘God’ language: Why “God is love” rather than hate? Why “God favors meekness” rather than power? Why “God favors peace” rather than war? Why “God is fair” rather than biased? Why “God is aligned with the vulnerable” rather than the strong? Why . . . ? A response to such questions that appeals to ‘revelation’ falls short (at least for me) because the phrase “God reveals/ed” is anthropomorphic. (Also, some parts of the Jewish and Christian canons speak of ‘God’ in terms of hate, power, war, bias, alignment with the strong, . . .) It seems to me that, re the above questions, individuals within the ‘religious’ sphere on the liberal end of the theological spectrum (with their emphasis on the consistent moral character of ‘God’) may struggle more than those on the fundamentalist end of the theological spectrum (with their emphasis on the sheer sovereignty of ‘God’, even if actions attributed to ‘God’ violate moral wisdom or conscience).
4. By regarding all ‘God’ language as morphic, I do not mean that such language is necessarily false or without force. Such language is (for me at least) false and without force if/when (1) the morphic nature of the language is disregarded and/or (2) the language would draw me back or away from the resolve to be the sort of person who can be truly present, without regard for theological or spiritual cost, with human beings who are experiencing the worst in life. This position raises a question as to the origin of the resolve. By committing to “for better or for worse” eighteen months before my first wife was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, I came to the test with this resolve in mind but with no sustained traumatic/extreme experience. As the months and then years passed (she died fourteen years later), any conditional (i.e., ‘if/since . . . , then . . .’) underpinnings to this resolve failed -- e.g., “be like ‘God’”, “imitate ‘Jesus’”, “apply the Golden Rule”, “mirror the Good Samaritan”, “be a good Boy Scout”, “please my parents”, . . . . But the resolve, instead of collapsing without the motivation of a mandate or an example, actually became clearer -- a consequence upon which I have reflected for many years now. Why did the resolve to remain truly present with my stricken wife not break down as/when the conditions upon which the resolve might have depended melted under the heat of indiscriminate inquiry combined with deep respect for those for whom life is tragic? I think it was because the day-to-day reality of chronic illness kept the decisions concrete. I had no time either to consider the decisions from an abstract/theoretical perspective or to experiment with other options. And the options were all variations on two themes – i.e., either to or not to remain fully present past the point of existential, spiritual, and theological risk/danger. Her illness – being ‘innocent’, random, and, therefore, not intentionally inflicted – made my finitude/vulnerability unavoidably clear. To have withdrawn to a safe distance from her would have been to adopt a way of being that would have imposed limits/conditions on every other human relationship. If I could not be unconditionally present with someone I had invited to trust me to be present “for better or for worse”, then I would not be so present with anyone else. The Ecclesiastes essay and the story of the ‘scrapheap’ Job were strategic for me at this point in making clear the profound damage to integrity that results when life is lived so as to remain at a safe distance from victims whose experience testifies to the breadth/depth of tragic suffering and discredits ‘God’ language that is used/heard as literally equivalent to the finite reference points.
5. I do not think or speak in terms of “knowing God” or “God answered my prayer” or “God led me” or “Jesus spoke to me” or . . . . The morphic nature of ‘God’ language keeps me from interpreting life experiences in these ways. (Having grown up within a fundamentalist thought-world that advocated a very non-experiential approach to spirituality, my reservations about the experiences claimed in these phrases do not represent a traumatic break with my upbringing on this point.) To/for me, experiencing intimacy or ‘oneness’ with another human being -- perhaps the greatest challenge in life -- is as profound or ultimate or sacred as experience is in this life and, therefore, as near as I come to experiencing ‘God’. I find something of this indirect and unintentional dynamic for experiencing ‘God’ in the surprised reaction of those commended in the Matthew 25:31-46 story. Among the several motivations to consider this experience of intimacy or ‘oneness’ with another human being as indirectly and, in a sense, indirectly or unconsciously experiencing ‘God’ is the need to protect those very special relationships from idolatry.
