The Living God

In 2007 a very thoughtful and challenging book came out called "Quest for the Living God" by Elizabeth A. Johnson*. Sr Elizabeth is a professor of theology at Fordham University in the United States. In the book she wants to look at the various 'new' ways modern women and men see or speak of or think about, God. In the end, she is saying that we are all, of whatever religion or seekers of meaning, much richer for the many ways that God is revealed to humanity in our day. 

I suspect that what many of us have, in one way or another, been taught about God has been pretty unhelpful. Maybe we were told about a God who was 'up' there, or full of wrath, or a harsh judge who is watching our every move, or just a God distant and removed, not interested in me or my life. Even an awareness that Jesus somehow reflects God doesn't seem to help many - though I wish it did.

In any case, at the very beginning of this book Sr Elizabeth is saying a word about what she means when she uses the term 'the living God' in the title. She starts by saying that 'This way of speaking runs through the Bible from beginning to end to identify the Source of life as  dynamic, bounteous, and full of surprises. When they entered into covenant, the people of Israel 'heard the voice of the living God speaking out of the fire at Sinai and knew the living God is among you as they crossed into the promised land'.

Johnson goes on to say, ' Living means the opposite of dead'. That might seem obvious but it is worth pondering its implications. Then she says 'As used in this book, this appellation summons up a sense of the God who is full of energy and spirit, alive with designs for liberation and healing, always approaching from the future to do something new. In addition, the term "the living God" evokes the realization that there is always more to divine Mystery than human beings can nail down. It prepares those who use it for astonishment'.

This beautiful description made me ask myself some questions: How often am I astonished by God? What does it mean to me/us that God is always approaching from the future? How can the reality that God cannot be 'nailed down' help me to live with mystery, with things I cannot explain or control?

Though Elizabeth Johnson is a scholar and theologian there is a wonderful beauty and poetry to the way she hopes we will see God. Although the book isn't curl-up-in-bed-with, reading, it is nevertheless, an eye-opener and a heart-filler for any who want to 'know' God better.

*Elizabeth A. Johnson, Quest for the Living God, Continuum, New York, 2007.

The Child who ran away

I am re-reading, although it almost seems like the first time, Henri Nouwen's book: The Return of the Prodigal Son*. It is a beautiful book, one of the last he wrote and full of his special kind of wisdom and very exposed humanity. Right now I am reading his section on the younger son. For those who do not know the story see the bible, Luke Ch. 15;11 - 32. Nouwen is also reflecting on Rembrandt's wonderful and deeply moving painting called: The return of the Prodigal.   
   

In the painting the father's love is so beautifully expressed. This is love for a son who has squandered his (the father's) money; who has lived a life in which his only goal is to please himself. The son doesn't recognize or, it seems, even want his father's love until he finds himself hungry, lost, experiencing nothing but absolute misery. He doesn't believe his father will welcome him back as a son but he might be grateful for another hand on the farm. However, the father loves in a way that few of us think we have ever been loved. The father asks the son for nothing and is simply filled with gratitude for his return. The father does not chastise or penalize he only welcomes and loves. Many people see this figure of the father as a portrait of God. It is not important that this image is of a male figure, it could easily be God the mother as well. The point is not the gender but the unconditional love.

Nouwen struggles with this. 'To whom do I belong? To God or to the world?...As long as I keep running about asking: "Do you love me? Do you really love me?" I give all power to the voices of the world and put myself in bondage because the world is filled with 'ifs'. The world says: "Yes, I love you if are good-looking, intelligent and wealthy. I love you if you have a good education, a good job, and good connections. I love you if you produce much, sell much, and buy much." There are endless "ifs" hidden in the world's love... the world's love is and always will be, conditional.'

Later, Nouwen recognizes the literally awesome gift of God as seen in the father of this story. 'God has never pulled back his arms, never withheld his blessing, ...' Nouwen says, ' Here, the mystery of my life is unveiled. I am loved so much that I am left free to leave home. The blessing is there from the beginning. I have left it and keep on leaving it. But the Father is always looking for me with outstretched arms to receive me back and whisper again in my ear: "You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests".

This belovedness is a gift for us all. It is really the only thing that truly brings us peace and makes us happy. When we come to know this then we know who we are, we don't have to impress anyone. We are loved just as we are.

*Henri Nouwen: The Return of the Prodigal Son: a Story of Homecoming, Image Books, Doubleday, N.Y., 1992

Random Thoughts on Prayer and Silence

This is another 'Random Thoughts' post just because several things have come to mind at the same time. Though they came randomly to my attention I think they are related and they touched something in my heart. 

The first is another of Mary Oliver's beautiful poems*, this one is called 'Praying':

       It doesn't have to be
       the blue iris, it could be
       weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
       small stones; just
       pay attention, then patch

       a few words together and don't try
       to make them elaborate, this isn't
       a contest but the doorway

       into thanks, and a silence in which
       another voice may speak.

Mary Oliver is a very spare poet I think and I like that immensely because I feel that the deepest things can only be spoken of 'sparely'. Here, in so many ways, she takes, not the mystery, but the fuss out of prayer. I think so many of us think prayer has to be something hard to do. But if you understand prayer to be the sharing of a relationship, speaking as Teresa of Avila said, 'to one you know loves you' then it can be few words, even a beautiful silence of shared love.
     

Of course, Thich Nhat Hanh has some words about silence that may help too. He says :

       *Silence is something that comes from your heart, not from outside.
       Silence does not mean not talking and not doing things; it means you
       are not disturbed inside, there is no talking inside.

My own experience of life as a contemplative nun is very much in agreement with TNH. It is sorting out and dealing with the voices within that lead to silence. At the same time, I do think there are also times when we need very much to go to our 'secret place' as Jesus tells us, to be alone and to be quiet inside and out. Still, it is the inside that is most important.

*Mary Oliver: Thirst, Beacon Press, Boston, 2006
*Thich Nhat Hanh, Your True Home, The Everyday wisdom of Thich Nhat Hanh, Shambhala, Boston, 2011

The power of words revisited

I sometimes wonder if we take the power of the words we use seriously enough.  When I say 'power' I mean, mostly, that I believe the words we use affect the very essence of how we perceive the world in which we live and therefore affect all our relationships and activities. Here, my particular interest has to do with the use of gender specific words but it applies equally to how we praise or criticize; how we ignore or embrace; how we give thanks or throw away.

With regard to gender words, take for instance, the Hebrew and Christian scriptures we know of as the Bible. In those scriptures the almost total use of masculine words for God has left us with an image of God that has permeated our psyches. God can only be male (even though most people know that God is neither male nor female ). In a very real sense this apparently unquestioned (until relatively recently) attribution has had the effect of making male the standard for human perfection. 

One modern biblical scholar (Elisabeth Schussler-Fiorenza) points this out very succinctly when she says, For the western understanding and linguistic expression of reality, male existence is the standard of human existence. 

She later says, The issue of androcentric language has received much attention in the past several years. The biblical texts as they are read by individuals or heard in the liturgy of the church perpetuate the male bias and exclusiveness of our own culture and language.

That is just a taste of what I mean about the power of words. In this instance I am using the Bible as an example because it has influenced western human history more profoundly than virtually any other book. But if you think we now live in a society in which women are equals of men and that this kind of use of language is now history maybe it is worth pondering further.  

Look how often 'exclusive' language is used in the books, magazines and newspapers you read. Some people say of course, that 'he', 'brother', and especially, 'men' refer equally to both men and women so what's the problem? Do they? Why should they? Does the use of such exclusive language for the standard of humanity not subtly affect our perceptions of women?

If we think women are now equally well valued in our society take a look sometime at how many women are found on the special obituary pages of newspapers - take a survey over a week. There are probably 5 or 6 men to every woman and the women are often referred to because they were somebody's wife. Or, how often are articles and photographs of women sexualised or trivialized? ( I took a little survey of the Huffington Post and almost the only time the activities of Michelle Obama were mentioned, the reference was to what she wore).

May this young girl fly into life respecting and loving all that it means to be woman

This perhaps sounds too much like a rant, but just think about our young women and what they are taught to value in themselves and ask yourself: is this the best we can do for them?

Hurry!

'Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! you don't want to be the last!'. This, called out by the one of the adults to a group of very young children at the beach a while ago. I can also remember that being said to me or to my friends - is it something that is always said to groups of children. But today I thought for the first time, ' what is wrong with being the last?'

Why, I wondered, do we think it important not to be the last? In this particular case little Ollie (as I discovered his name to be) was doing his own thing and that included not keeping up. I rather liked the look of Ollie - maybe that is why I asked myself the question. But I think too of my friends in L'Arche. Many of them tend to be the last or somewhere near and many of them are among the most interesting and caring people I know - perhaps because they are not so focused on keeping up?

That's all.
   

The other thought about little random things that are part of the journey also happened this morning. Across the street where the construction site is there was, suddenly, a lot of activity. This activity included several fire engines, a couple of police cruisers, yellow tape around the whole block - not just the construction site. No ambulance so presumably it wasn't someone who was hurt. But it was most certainly an out-of-the-ordinary occurrence and gained, needless to say a lot of attention. 

So it made me think of that very phrase about things that are 'out-of-the-ordinary'. These are things that are not what we expect, they may be a bit mysterious because we don't understand what is happening, they may be a bit shocking but it seems that the important thing is, we notice them because they are unexpected, different. Which implies a sense that we all have of 'the ordinary' which mostly fills our day and is, for the most part, the stuff of our time on earth. 


I wondered: if we paid more attention to 'the ordinary', would we start to see in it too, more things that are extraordinary, out of the ordinary? I am going to try to look more carefully from now on.