Friday, October 19, 2007 at 1:01am
The problem of God-talk
Column: God Said What?
How do we speak of God?
The answer to that should be simple. After all, as Christians, we're called to bear witness to the God of Jesus Christ. Not only with words but also with the way we live our lives and love others.
But when we really take God seriously, we run into a problem. If God is God — that is, if God is the Absolute Transcendent One who is ultimately beyond what any of us can ever fathom or articulate — then how can we try to understand God? Heck, how do we even speak about God?
The short answer is that we can't. Everything that we say about God is in some way inadequate, because we can't fully comprehend God. There is a qualitative difference between us and the divine that should not be underestimated. Even though we have God's complete revelation in the person of Jesus Christ, we still fall short. At best we can stutter and point.
Because we're human. We're not God. We do indeed receive God's grace-filled self-revelation, but as this happens, we come to realize that God is much bigger and mysterious than we ever imagined. This isn't a question of salvation but of what we think we know. And what we know is that we can't ever fully fathom the depths of God. As Catholic theologian Elizabeth Johnson points out, "The triune God is not simply unknown, but positively known to be unknown and unknowable — which is a dear and profound kind of knowledge."
This isn't a bad thing. It's just reality. In a way, our recognition of our own limitations is a kind of freedom. It frees us from holding rigidly to only a single image of God. It frees us to think of God in other ways as the Spirit moves us. And it frees us to repent of placing human limits on a transcendent God. In this way we can remember that our God-talk is figurative, not literal.
This problem may cause some of us to just give up. But that's the wrong response. Instead, this problem should just make us humble. Because we need to try to speak rightly of God, even if our words fall short. Not just for ourselves but for our communities. After all, God calls us into a relationship. And that relationship calls for action as social beings.
In short, we must speak of God while at the same time accepting the real limits of our ability to do so. And we can do so in three ways: metaphor, analogy and symbol.
A metaphor is an image that we use to comparatively talk about God. For example, when we use the metaphor "God is a rock," we're not saying that God is literally a boulder sitting on a hill. Rather, we're saying that there is something solid, foundational and strong about God, even though we all know God is definitely not a rock. A metaphor says that God is kind of like something while also saying that literally God is really not like that much at all.
In an analogy, something a little different happens. Again deferring to Elizabeth Johnson, an analogy takes us through three steps. Step one establishes a comparison between God and a suitable word or image we know from our own experience. The second step then empties this word or image of all of its creaturely parallels and negates any sure connection between God and it. Thirdly, the newly emptied word or image is oriented toward the Holy Mystery in a way that affirms the similarity but reminds us that God is always beyond our comprehension. As an example, Johnson points out, "...when we say that God is good, the movement of meaning carried in the reference to God also indicates that God is not good the way creatures are good, but God is good in an excellent way as source of all that is good."
A symbol takes all of this a step further. A symbol not only evokes a similarity with God but also, in a small way, participates in the reality to which it bears witness. Like the Trinity, there is almost a small relationship of mutual indwelling between God and the symbol. This is similar to the Catholic idea of a sacrament: something that conveys God to us because it somehow participates in a small way in God's presence among us. For example, the real presence in the Eucharist can be understood in this way because it conveys God's presence among us.
These three ways of speaking of God aren't perfect. But when understood to be limited, humble attempts to portray and relate to God, they can give us a good foundation. Yes, this is a little complicated. And, yes, this is leaving the life, death and resurrection of Jesus aside for the moment. But this problem of theological language is important. And its implications should be both empowering and at the same time humbling.
After all, we're not God, so we can't fully know God. As St. Augustine observed, if we think we have understood, then what we've understood is not God. But God continues to call us nonetheless. God has initiated this relationship. God wants us to seek.
We just have to be realistic about being human. We have to honor God by accepting our limitations. And that's not a bad place to start.
— — —
Kevin Considine is a graduate student at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago, the largest Roman Catholic school of theology and ministry in North America. He is married to a most wonderful woman who keeps him in line and makes sure his thoughts 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.
The answer to that should be simple. After all, as Christians, we're called to bear witness to the God of Jesus Christ. Not only with words but also with the way we live our lives and love others.
But when we really take God seriously, we run into a problem. If God is God — that is, if God is the Absolute Transcendent One who is ultimately beyond what any of us can ever fathom or articulate — then how can we try to understand God? Heck, how do we even speak about God?
The short answer is that we can't. Everything that we say about God is in some way inadequate, because we can't fully comprehend God. There is a qualitative difference between us and the divine that should not be underestimated. Even though we have God's complete revelation in the person of Jesus Christ, we still fall short. At best we can stutter and point.
Because we're human. We're not God. We do indeed receive God's grace-filled self-revelation, but as this happens, we come to realize that God is much bigger and mysterious than we ever imagined. This isn't a question of salvation but of what we think we know. And what we know is that we can't ever fully fathom the depths of God. As Catholic theologian Elizabeth Johnson points out, "The triune God is not simply unknown, but positively known to be unknown and unknowable — which is a dear and profound kind of knowledge."
This isn't a bad thing. It's just reality. In a way, our recognition of our own limitations is a kind of freedom. It frees us from holding rigidly to only a single image of God. It frees us to think of God in other ways as the Spirit moves us. And it frees us to repent of placing human limits on a transcendent God. In this way we can remember that our God-talk is figurative, not literal.
This problem may cause some of us to just give up. But that's the wrong response. Instead, this problem should just make us humble. Because we need to try to speak rightly of God, even if our words fall short. Not just for ourselves but for our communities. After all, God calls us into a relationship. And that relationship calls for action as social beings.
In short, we must speak of God while at the same time accepting the real limits of our ability to do so. And we can do so in three ways: metaphor, analogy and symbol.
A metaphor is an image that we use to comparatively talk about God. For example, when we use the metaphor "God is a rock," we're not saying that God is literally a boulder sitting on a hill. Rather, we're saying that there is something solid, foundational and strong about God, even though we all know God is definitely not a rock. A metaphor says that God is kind of like something while also saying that literally God is really not like that much at all.
In an analogy, something a little different happens. Again deferring to Elizabeth Johnson, an analogy takes us through three steps. Step one establishes a comparison between God and a suitable word or image we know from our own experience. The second step then empties this word or image of all of its creaturely parallels and negates any sure connection between God and it. Thirdly, the newly emptied word or image is oriented toward the Holy Mystery in a way that affirms the similarity but reminds us that God is always beyond our comprehension. As an example, Johnson points out, "...when we say that God is good, the movement of meaning carried in the reference to God also indicates that God is not good the way creatures are good, but God is good in an excellent way as source of all that is good."
A symbol takes all of this a step further. A symbol not only evokes a similarity with God but also, in a small way, participates in the reality to which it bears witness. Like the Trinity, there is almost a small relationship of mutual indwelling between God and the symbol. This is similar to the Catholic idea of a sacrament: something that conveys God to us because it somehow participates in a small way in God's presence among us. For example, the real presence in the Eucharist can be understood in this way because it conveys God's presence among us.
These three ways of speaking of God aren't perfect. But when understood to be limited, humble attempts to portray and relate to God, they can give us a good foundation. Yes, this is a little complicated. And, yes, this is leaving the life, death and resurrection of Jesus aside for the moment. But this problem of theological language is important. And its implications should be both empowering and at the same time humbling.
After all, we're not God, so we can't fully know God. As St. Augustine observed, if we think we have understood, then what we've understood is not God. But God continues to call us nonetheless. God has initiated this relationship. God wants us to seek.
We just have to be realistic about being human. We have to honor God by accepting our limitations. And that's not a bad place to start.
— — —
Kevin Considine is a graduate student at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago, the largest Roman Catholic school of theology and ministry in North America. He is married to a most wonderful woman who keeps him in line and makes sure his thoughts 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.