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Posted: March 23rd, 2007 at 2:08am By: Kevin Considine
Theology is often called "God talk." That is, theology is human words about the divine.
And those words are fleeting at best. They're also filled with holes and paradoxes. We Christians claim that we have received the definitive self-revelation of God in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. And this is true. Yet we should also be humble enough to realize that there is much more to God than what we think we know.
For what we know is always imperfect. Even if it's knowledge about God. For we have received God's self-revelation, yet we acknowledge that we can't master its fullness and purity. At least not on this side of eternity.
That's why many contemporary theologians and biblical scholars preach that revelation didn't just drop out of the sky. Instead, God's self-revelation throughout the centuries has been freely given and received and then discerned and interpreted by human beings. Because we realize that revelation always begins with an experience of God's closeness. And those experiences transform us. They're not neutral.
The problem here isn't with revelation but with how God's presence is far from clear and rarely what we expect. Seldom, if ever, do we witness a literal transfiguration or burning bush. Which is why revelation always needs interpretation.
Even when a great mystic or prophet hears the voice of God inside himself or herself, God's voice is wholly other and thus needs to be interpreted. This is because God's voice needs discernment within a believing community in order to decipher whether it is indeed the Holy One speaking or is in fact something else entirely. Revelation and religious experience are no less sacred because of this; they're just tempered with a dose of realism.
For we do indeed have experiences with the Holy One in our lives. And if we're honest, we acknowledge that these experiences push our limits. We can't fully possess them, can't fully understand them, but as we reflect and pray we realize Who has enraptured us.
How could it be otherwise? When confronted with just a glimpse of the Almighty, we are made aware of our nakedness before God in all of our sinfulness and mortality. At the same time we feel the gravity of God pulling us closer in love and peace if we but choose to submit.
God is all-powerful, unpredictable and perhaps even dangerous. But God's purpose is to draw us near, give us life and dwell among us in shalom and love. God is the holy, all-consuming fire that burns away sin, injustice and impurity. But God is also the prodigal father who leaves dignity at the door to recklessly run out and embrace the wayward child.
From a human perspective, God's holiness and love shouldn't go together. But they do and without contradiction. This is part of the ultimate mystery. That God is both holy and loving, just and merciful. God is completely other yet intimately united to humanity in Jesus Christ.
Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann observed, "At the core of Christian faith is an overpowering, unutterable disclosure that gives access to the awesome holiness and moves in the direction of contemplation, wonderment and grateful awe."
And we should be meek when approaching God. This doesn't mean fearful, but full of awe, humility and gratitude. For God's intention is this: to give life, restore hope, bring justice and triumph over evil, suffering and death. And we can nurture a wonder of God through the experience of our daily lives. That is, through being drawn into the presence of the Most Holy Creator.
Yes, we can be drawn into the divine presence. For all God-talk begins with experience. As Catholic theologian Edward Schillebeeckx observed, he could only speak about God because he spoke with God. And speaking to God means experiencing the presence of God. At least in a small way.
We can learn much from Father Schillebeeckx's simple observation. Foremost of which is a challenge: to humbly but courageously enter into relationship with the One who is wholly other but who loves us and yearns to bring us near.
When we accept God's embrace, we accept a risk. God's grace is costly grace. With faith we let go of our lives in order to gain them. And we strive to become less so we may become more.
In short, we accept thoughts of paradox. And they might be God-babble instead of God-talk. After all, I'm just a student and not a theologian.
Yet I think such thoughts can point us toward the mystery of God. The mystery of a God who became human for the sake of humanity. A mystery that isn't a riddle to be solved but a larger reality Who draws us inside.
— — —
Kevin Considine is a graduate student at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago. Recently he was married to a most wonderful woman who keeps him in line and reads his columns to see if they make sense. He and his wife live on the South Side of Chicago. He welcomes comments, feedback or fits of anger and can be reached at {email considkp@yahoo.com}considkp@yahoo.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Kevin Considine
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Theology is often called "God talk." That is, theology is human words about the divine.
And those words are fleeting at best. They're also filled with holes and paradoxes. We Christians claim that we have received the definitive self-revelation of God in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. And this is true. Yet we should also be humble enough to realize that there is much more to God than what we think we know.
For what we know is always imperfect. Even if it's knowledge about God. For we have received God's self-revelation, yet we acknowledge that we can't master its fullness and purity. At least not on this side of eternity.
That's why many contemporary theologians and biblical scholars preach that revelation didn't just drop out of the sky. Instead, God's self-revelation throughout the centuries has been freely given and received and then discerned and interpreted by human beings. Because we realize that revelation always begins with an experience of God's closeness. And those experiences transform us. They're not neutral.
The problem here isn't with revelation but with how God's presence is far from clear and rarely what we expect. Seldom, if ever, do we witness a literal transfiguration or burning bush. Which is why revelation always needs interpretation.
Even when a great mystic or prophet hears the voice of God inside himself or herself, God's voice is wholly other and thus needs to be interpreted. This is because God's voice needs discernment within a believing community in order to decipher whether it is indeed the Holy One speaking or is in fact something else entirely. Revelation and religious experience are no less sacred because of this; they're just tempered with a dose of realism.
For we do indeed have experiences with the Holy One in our lives. And if we're honest, we acknowledge that these experiences push our limits. We can't fully possess them, can't fully understand them, but as we reflect and pray we realize Who has enraptured us.
How could it be otherwise? When confronted with just a glimpse of the Almighty, we are made aware of our nakedness before God in all of our sinfulness and mortality. At the same time we feel the gravity of God pulling us closer in love and peace if we but choose to submit.
God is all-powerful, unpredictable and perhaps even dangerous. But God's purpose is to draw us near, give us life and dwell among us in shalom and love. God is the holy, all-consuming fire that burns away sin, injustice and impurity. But God is also the prodigal father who leaves dignity at the door to recklessly run out and embrace the wayward child.
From a human perspective, God's holiness and love shouldn't go together. But they do and without contradiction. This is part of the ultimate mystery. That God is both holy and loving, just and merciful. God is completely other yet intimately united to humanity in Jesus Christ.
Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann observed, "At the core of Christian faith is an overpowering, unutterable disclosure that gives access to the awesome holiness and moves in the direction of contemplation, wonderment and grateful awe."
And we should be meek when approaching God. This doesn't mean fearful, but full of awe, humility and gratitude. For God's intention is this: to give life, restore hope, bring justice and triumph over evil, suffering and death. And we can nurture a wonder of God through the experience of our daily lives. That is, through being drawn into the presence of the Most Holy Creator.
Yes, we can be drawn into the divine presence. For all God-talk begins with experience. As Catholic theologian Edward Schillebeeckx observed, he could only speak about God because he spoke with God. And speaking to God means experiencing the presence of God. At least in a small way.
We can learn much from Father Schillebeeckx's simple observation. Foremost of which is a challenge: to humbly but courageously enter into relationship with the One who is wholly other but who loves us and yearns to bring us near.
When we accept God's embrace, we accept a risk. God's grace is costly grace. With faith we let go of our lives in order to gain them. And we strive to become less so we may become more.
In short, we accept thoughts of paradox. And they might be God-babble instead of God-talk. After all, I'm just a student and not a theologian.
Yet I think such thoughts can point us toward the mystery of God. The mystery of a God who became human for the sake of humanity. A mystery that isn't a riddle to be solved but a larger reality Who draws us inside.
— — —
Kevin Considine is a graduate student at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago. Recently he was married to a most wonderful woman who keeps him in line and reads his columns to see if they make sense. He and his wife live on the South Side of Chicago. He welcomes comments, feedback or fits of anger and can be reached at {email considkp@yahoo.com}considkp@yahoo.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Kevin Considine
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