Belief Archives < Page 2 of 3 < For Better or For Worse

The Theory of Neonatal Proclivity

First, a brief clarification of terms:
   Theory – from Late Latin theoria from the Greek theoria meaning a “a view”
   Neonatal – meaning of or relating to newborn children
   Proclivity – from the Latin proclivitas, a steep descent, steepness, sloping forward, meaning a natural or habitual inclination or tendency; propensity; predisposition.
   The theory of neonatal proclivity is usually associated with a quasi-genetic point of view about passing on inappropriate behaviors.
   Is there such a theory? I don’t know, but by using different words it challenges us to think about what we mean by the Doctrine of Original Sin.
   It holds, first, that the progenitors of the human race, although constitutionally well designed and innocent, fell victim to the temptations of an evil force and departed from their creator’s designs and will.
   And, secondly, it holds that their progeny inherited a tendency to the same deviation from their original design and passed it on to their descendants.
   According to this doctrine, children are born with “Original Sin”—in the sense, not that they are personally guilty of a sin but that they have inherited a proclivity to sin.
   It is the basis for a certain urgency that they receive the sacrament of Baptism, even though they are too young to be aware of it or understand what it is.
   (Originally Baptism was only for mature adults who accepted the teaching of Jesus and wanted to join his followers. They symbolically expressed this desire and choice by being ceremoniously washed and clothed in new garments.)
   The later custom of also baptizing infant children was an affirmation that they were cleansed from “Original Sin” and pledged by their parents to be raised as Christians. At a future date, hopefully they would personally endorse and reaffirm this symbolic decision.

   Adults who led a Christian life were presumed to be saved and ultimately in Heaven after death; those who did not were presumed to be damned and in Hell.
   Since unbaptized infant children could not fit into either category, a new concept was introduced to cover their situation: that they were poised, as it were, at the frontier of Heaven. This state of being, called Limbo, was identified as neither a punishment nor a reward, but a consequence of having been born and died with “Original Sin”.
   This point of view, popular for many centuries, now can seem flawed and unjust.
   A tendency or a propensity to do something wrong, to commit a sin, is not the same as actually doing it.
   Some of the greatest saints may have been tormented by temptations to sin which they successful resisted—or, as the case may be, they may have committed a sin and then repented their decision and atoned for it.
   To the contemporary mind, it seems implausible and a violation of logic and justice that someone be adjudged guilty of a temptation that he or she actually successfully resisted.
   Sin is a decision and cannot be inherited. However, the inclination to think otherwise is understandable, as one considers the many evils of ancient and modern societies and the so many bad choices of others.
   In biblical and early post-biblical times when adults accepted the teachings of Jesus and sought acceptance into the early Christian community (the Church), they repented past decisions and choices and resolved to follow a new life style.
   There was not yet a concern nor thought about neonatal proclivities!

18 December 2022

Methodology

When we’re talking or writing about something, we may be speaking literally or figuratively—and both are perfectly respectable, proper, and effective ways to communicate.
   Speaking figuratively is communicating in a non-literal, metaphorical way using images, figures, likenesses, symbols, and such.
   It’s not a lessor way of speaking than literal communication; actually, it often can be more effective and evocative—even poetic.
   Some things, some ideas, are so hard to communicate literally that we must recourse to speaking figuratively. Sometimes we even don’t use words at all—e.g., the maxim, “A picture is worth a thousand words.”
   When we’re trying to speak about things that are beyond our detailed and complete understanding we’re almost forced to speak figuratively.
   Sometimes we tend to think that science and scientific speech is better, truer, more accurate, and more effective than religion and religious speech. But, actually, it is often the other way round!
   Good Theology is just as important and vital as good Physics—and maybe more so. But, alas, just as a scientific experiment can be sloppily performed and its reported results untrustworthy, so, too, some theological ideas can be sloppily or naively put together and result in untrustworthy doctrines.
   However, scientific results and theological doctrines may well be accurate and true, even though the way they were arrived at had failings and weaknesses.
   Name notwithstanding, the “Scientific Method,” is a good way to think about all matters, including Science and Religion.
   It is a method of procedure consisting of systematic observation and research, formulation of theories and hypotheses, experimenting and testing them, and reporting conclusions.

   Critical thinking resembles the scientific method. Both involve conjectural insights that must be validated by lived experience. Both respect trial and error.
   Just as the accumulated body of scientific knowledge grows and is constantly revised and further extended, so too does the accumulated body of theological knowledge grow and is constantly revised and further extended.
   Some ideas and conjectures may have been astoundingly radical and controversial when first voiced and now are accepted and presumed as a matter of course.
   Some are articulated in what now may be rejected and out-of-date concepts but which may have been strikingly challenging and provocative when first used.
   There is always a danger that older theories and insights may be ignored or rejected because they use words or concepts that are different then current usage—the classic danger of “throwing out the baby with the bathwater.”
   Just because a theory, description, doctrine, or way of communicating seems hopelessly out-of-date doesn’t mean it lacks insight or value. It may still be a stepping-stone to something newer, greater, and even more insightful, useful, and significant.
   Clinging to older, out-of-date ideas, concepts, and values is understandable but not commendable. A good scientist or theologian, a good thinker or believer always is testing and experimenting with new or revised insights and theories.
   Don’t tire! The process never ends. We are limited in our understandings; only God is omniscient. Rejoice in having a rich heritage, but don’t store your fortune or squander it—use it well and make it grow!

6 November 2022

Reaching for the Realm of God

   Come, let us build ourselves a city
   and a tower with its top in the sky,
                      (Genesis 11:4)

No, this wasn’t what originally inspired the tall buildings of New York or other modern cities, even though their tall constructions are often called “skyscrapers”.
   Remember, the story of the Tower of Babel has a worldview that the earth is flat and that the highest heaven (sky) is the realm of God.
   The aspiration to be able to build high enough to reach the realm of God was the heighth of presumption—and, in the story, linguistic confusion, misunderstanding, and being dispersed over all the earth was the price to be paid for this presumption.
   Beware! Often the attempts to deepen our knowledge of matters of faith run the risk of a similar sort of presumption. We tend to think that our construction of sophisticated ideas that narrow slightly the parameters of the mystery we are trying to better understand actually may explain the unknown.
   It’s like the tale of the blind men and an elephant. They never had encountered an elephant before, but by touching it they attempted to describe it. But each touched only one part of the elephant. None of them could describe the whole creature.
   Theological concepts and constructions like matter, form, person, foreknowledge, substance, accident, body, soul may help us to understand and explain a part of what we believe—but which in its totality is beyond our abilities.
   All this doesn’t mean that theology is inappropriate or a waste of time. But be careful not to deceive yourself that by learning a little you’re building so high that you’ll will actually be able to attain the fullness of the knowledge of God.

   Scientific knowledge is very different from faith. Science is concerned with the tangible, the observable, the measurable, the provable aspects of the created world and universe and all that is in it.
   Faith doesn’t disparage science, but is more concerned with revelation, confidence, and trust.
   God speaks through all the beauty and wonder of his creation, but he also communicates through the revealed word, tempered by the understanding and limits of understanding of those who were inspired to speak and write it.
   Most of us, if we take a flight from one place to another have hardly any knowledge or training in flying a plane—but we trust in the training and skill of the pilots, even though the technical details escape us.
   There are multitudinous details to our religious lives that we can thoroughly understand since they are human customs, traditions, rules, and regulations.
   But the principal things we believe are beyond our complete understanding. In this, we’re like one of the blind men encountering the elephant. We understand something, some component or aspect—but understanding and explaining everything is beyond us.
   For example, the nature of God, the Trinity, the identity of Jesus, the resurrection, the functioning of the sacraments, creation and evolution, infallibility, the inspiration of the Bible, providence, destiny, death, life after death, to name just a few.
   Of course it’s legitimate to build bigger, better, and taller towers—but they’ll never reach the realm of God.

22 May 2022

The Great King Over All Gods

For the Lord is the great God,
   the great king over all gods,
Whose hand holds the depths of the earth;
   who owns the tops of the mountains.
The sea and dry land belong to God,
   who made them, formed them by hand. (Psalm 95:3-5)

Once people generally believed in many gods, some greater and more powerful than others.
   The Jewish scriptures (“Old Testament”) tell of a gradual process, a growing realization, a kind of discovery, that the god of Abraham and his descendants is the supreme god, greater than all the others, and ultimately that there are no others.
   This means, for instance, that all the branches of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, no matter what their differences, are all worshiping the one and the same God.
   Accordingly, this implies that although Jews, Christians, and Muslims have many differences, they should fundamentally be one—i.e. they should treat one another as fellow believers.
   By extension, if there is only one God, this further implies that the same should apply to all other religious believers, no matter what their customs or beliefs.
   And, if there is only one creator, this still further implies that the same should apply to everyone, no matter whether they have religious beliefs or affiliations or not.
   A threat to all of this is giving exaggerated importance to structures of difference.
   For example, Hagia Sophia, the great church, then mosque, now museum in Istanbul: Why must it be one or the other? Why can’t it be a shared place for different styles of worship, reflecting its long history?
   Must strictly orthodox Jews, Christians, or Muslims—or followers of other religions—pray separately from less orthodox Jews, Christians, or Muslims?

   Another, parochial example: When Cardinal Francis Spellman was Archbishop of New York, he had to respond to a massive immigration of Puerto Ricans and, later, other Latin Americans to the archdiocese.
   Historically separate churches were built for each national/ethnic/linguistic group. He decided that the same church building should accommodate people of different customs and language and that the priests should know or learn the customs and language of the parishioners.
   Our contemporary society seems to place an exaggerated importance on differences and institutionalizing them. If you like chocolate and I like strawberry, we don’t have to go to separate ice-cream stores.
   Restaurants, stores, schools, churches, neighborhoods, apartment houses, police forces, political parties, nations, and every kind of structure or organization need to be aware of differences and respect them—but not institutionalize and segregate them.
   The 1964 New York World’s Fair had a great exhibit that taught this, “It’s a Small World”; it’s still seen in Disney parks. You ride through scenes of different parts of the world, where animated dolls dressed in different, traditional clothes, sing, and even dance, to the same song. Then the same dolls are shown all mixed together, dressed in their different traditional clothing, but singing together the same song.
   It was a fundamental lesson about life. Of course there are differences! You and I and everyone else—we’re all ultimately different from one another, each one of us unique, but we are all creations of the same God.
   You’re not a polytheist! No matter what, don’t be afraid to sing the same song!

8 May 2022

Zeroing in on the Unknowable

In a way, this describes what, over the centuries, theologians often have been doing—and even scientists, too! But, remember, getting more and more insight and information doesn’t mean we fully understand what ultimately remains a mystery and unknowable.
   This is not a critique of faith. Believing and knowing are two different things. Knowledge is more a matter of exploring, learning, testing, and gaining understanding. On the other hand, belief is more a matter of confidence, trusting, and daring.
   You may be my friend and I love and trust you, but that doesn’t mean that I had thoroughly investigated everything you thought, said, and did over the whole course of your life to reach this conclusion.
   A classic example: the Bible. We often say that it is the revealed word of God. Does that mean, can that mean, that every single word of the Bible was said by, was communicated by God?
   The Bible is not one unified book, but a collection of various kinds of writings and reflections by many different people over a span of many centuries—and translated by a variety of different translators.
   You’re not meant to take every single sentence or statement in the Bible and trust that it is exactly what God said—but you can trust that what you read is somebody’s interpretation in good faith of what God inspired and how it is to be understood.
   Another example: the Sacraments. We often presume that if the right person says the right words in the right language and performs the right actions certain spiritual things necessarily will happen.
   But, that’s almost a definition of magic. These may be regulations for celebrating the particular sacrament, but the sacramental action remains mysterious and also requires prayer and acts of faith and trust in God and his revelations and his love.

   The Summa Theologica of Thomas Aquinas is an outstanding example of the successes and the limitations of an in-depth investigation into the nature of the mysteries of our faith.
   Using the intellectual concepts and tools of Aristotle, Thomas explored the meaning of the core expressions of our Christian beliefs, especially and notably the Eucharist.
   He increased our understanding of what is ultimately not completely knowable. With the distinctions of matter and form, substance and accident, and other Aristotelian concepts, Thomas profoundly advanced our understanding of our faith.
   But no matter how deeply he explored the mystery and how effectively he articulated his findings, he still did not have all the answers.
   His concept of transubstantiation is brilliant, but it’s not a complete answer or a solution, in spite of its well-honed and respected deep insights, to this mystery of the Eucharist.
   We know that Jesus broke and distributed bread and poured and shared wine at his last supper with his disciples, usually considered a Seder, a meal where the salvific acts of God were symbolically remembered.
   Was he adding to the traditional symbols of salvific acts of God to be ever remembered and celebrated by his followers? Or, even more, was he saying that the partakers were somehow mystically sharing his very life, body and blood?
   If you can’t quite fully understand, you’re in good company. Thomas didn’t either, although he did a great job of zeroing in on the unknowable. Ultimately it’s not a matter of knowledge, but of belief.

24 April 2022

Religious Imagination

There’s a time and place for religious imagination—for “make believe”. It’s only human to embellish (that is, to beautify, to enhance) factual matters, and with long-term traditions the embellishment may get pretty elaborate.
   When the facts are few and far between, or when they are very slim and easily overlooked, it’s only human that we relate them with more and more descriptive words or imagined supplementary details.
   However, the embellishments may become so many and so elaborate as to disguise or distort the truth itself. That’s why in sworn testimony we call on God as our witness that we are telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
   Take the case of Nicholas of Myra. In the 4th century, in the Eastern Roman Empire, he was the Christian bishop of a town now known as Demre in Turkey.
   There are many traditions about him, most focused on and praising his generosity and secret gift-giving. The best known is about how he rescued three girls whose family was so poor that they had no dowry money for marriages for them by dropping small bags of gold coins through the window of their home at night.
   That’s about it. There are many embellishments in stories about his life, legends really, but very few “hard facts”. His feast is celebrated on December 6th or, in some places, December 19th.
   This is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth about the origins of the Santa Claus story—but, oh so many elaborations and embellishments over the centuries, so much imagination.
   The majority of modern descriptions of St. Nicholas/Santa Claus are shaped by the famous 1823 poem, “A Visit from St. Nicholas”, and his visits are more associated now with the birthday of Jesus than Nicholas’s own feast day.

   In any case, all this is a great illustration of the role of imagination in religious life and faith—and, in this case, the excessive role of imagination.
   It’s only human that we relate the factual matters of our religious faith with descriptive words or imagined supplementary details. But, we don’t want the embellishments to be so many or so elaborate that they disguise or distort the truth itself.
   The contemporary temptation is to hastily and carelessly discard religious traditions, customs, and teachings from centuries before as though they were purely works of imagination.
   Patience! Of course, they were embellished. We can’t communicate effectively merely by citing the judicially correct, bare-bones, root truth—and especially when we’re trying to communicate (in the best sense of the word) a mystery.
   It’s not a terrible thing to tell little kids about Santa Claus, but it would be if you swore on a Bible that it is “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God!”
   It’s not a terrible thing to teach kids standard catechism questions and answers and religious customs, but as they grow up they need to sift the root truths about matters of faith from religious imaginations that have embellished them over the years.
   When kids grow up, they don’t usually abandon their parents for telling them so many detailed embellishments about Santa Claus, but they do sort out the “hard facts” and know that there really are in this world exemplary people like St. Nicholas.

20 February 2022

God and Me? Me and God?

   O God, you are my God—
     it is you I seek!
   For you my body yearns;
      for you my soul thirsts.

   This verse (Psalm 63:2) is an evocative description of the human condition—a restless thirsting, hungering, searching for meaning, purpose, and fulfillment.
   Please notice, though, that the starting point is God. We’re not journeying through life like an explorer in a wilderness. Life is not a long-term, trying expedition to satisfy our wander/wonder lust. We’re not discoverers stumbling upon, unearthing a great trove of beautiful ideas or artifacts, evidence of some past glory.
   Remember the Baltimore Catechism question, “Why Did God Make You? The answer was, “God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this world, and to be happy with Him for ever in heaven.”
   There, also, the starting point is God, but the focus seems to be more on us than on God—at least in the sense that it gives a short list of our obligations to God, the things that we have to do to achieve being “happy with him for ever in heaven.”
   What do we do when we go to confession? We don’t “confess” (in the sense of proclaim) the mercy and wonder of God’s love and providence, We “confess” in some detail our failings, inadequacies, misdeeds, and sins. Sure, it’s primarily about offending God, but the focus is still mostly on ourselves!
   Is our story more about God and Me or about Me and God? It seems like the main focus is Me.
   To quote again (Psalm 63:9):

My soul clings fast to you;
your right hand upholds me.

My clinging is feeble. God holds me fast.

   St. Therese of the Child Jesus recalled that once a priest told her that her falling asleep during prayer was due to a want of fervor and fidelity and that she should be desolate over it. She had replied, “I am not desolate. I remember that little children are just as pleasing to their parents when they are asleep as when they are awake.”
   Often children think that they somehow earn their parents love and care by their good behavior, although they are loved and cared for long before they’ve matured enough to wrestle with disobedience.
   For St. Therese, clearly the starting point in her life story was God. It was about God and Me, not Me and God! It’s about the wonder of his making of each of us, of the many gifts he has given each of us, about his guiding of each of our lives, about the beauty and marvel of the world in which God has placed each of us to live.
   Okay, we can’t overlook all our blindness, indifference, selfishness, and stupidity over the years. We can’t pretend that all our inappropriate acts never happened, that all our offenses did no harm.
   But, we can’t wallow in their remembrance forever. For God’s sake, why should we be more fascinated with our failings then with God’s continuing mercy, love, forgiveness, and new empowerments. Our life story is not about Me and God, but God and Me.

For your love is better than life;
   my lips shall ever praise you!
I will bless you as long as I live;
   I will lift up my hands, calling on your name.
You indeed are my savior,
   and in the shadow of your wings I shout for joy. (Psalm 63:4-5,8)

21 November 2021

R.I.P.

R.I.P. is the familiar abbreviation we use for the Latin expression, “Requiescat in pace” and, coincidentally, also for its English translation, “Rest in peace”.
   In Christian tradition, it is used in reference to someone who has died. Actually it is a radical affirmation—that death is not the end of a person’s existence.
   For some people, “rest” is just a softer word than “death”, a kind of consoling metaphor. However, in Scripture it is clear that it is much more than a mere metaphor.
   In Matthew 9:24 and Luke 6:52, regarding the dead daughter of an official of the synagogue, Jesus says she “. . . is not dead but sleeping”, and then restores her to life.
   In John 11:13 regarding his dead friend, Lazarus, Jesus says “Our friend Lazarus is asleep, but I am going to awaken him,” and then restores him to life.
   Both these stories are about a restoration to one’s previous life, but the story of Jesus’ resurrection is different. Although changed, he is restored to his previous life for a while, but then disappears, caught up into the glory of God, entering a new stage of life.
   This new stage of life is promised to others. In John 12:26, Jesus says “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there also will my servant be.”
   It is this promise that inspires believers to look at death almost like sleep, to trust that an awakening will come, somehow, someday, somewhere to a fulness of life beyond what we now experience.
   This trust and confidence was the inspiration of the first Christians and early martyrs and still inspires, encourages, and consoles believers even to our day.
   Our folk imaginations and religious customs notwithstanding, we know little more about this future than the certitude of Jesus’ example and promise.
   That’s what enables us to look at one who clearly has died and say, “Rest in peace.”

   All this is affirmed in the beautiful faith testimony of the Funeral Liturgy: “In him [Christ our Lord] the hope of blessed resurrection has dawned, that those saddened by the certainty of dying might be consoled by the promise of immortality to come. Indeed for your faithful, Lord, life is changed not ended, and, when this earthly dwelling turns to dust, an eternal dwelling is made ready for them in heaven.”
   Although we often confidently speak of those who have died as already enjoying the fullness of the life of heaven, there is no clear timetable for this awakening.
   Is it right after death? At the last judgement? At some other time in between? Regarding this, too, we “know neither the day nor the hour.” (Matthew 25:13). But, then, for the sleeper, does the length of the time spent sleeping really matter?
   When it comes to details, no matter how we imagine life after death and no matter how commonly accepted certain traditions are, there is little that we know for certain beyond the Lord’s promise itself.
   And, that’s no small thing! In faith, we consider the departed as though asleep, not terminated. We believe that we will see them again—but exactly how, when, and where is beyond our present knowing.
   We are disciples of the risen Lord, and we trust in his word and his love.
   Sometimes we imaginatively embellish our faith convictions with too much speculation. This obscures the power and wonder of what we believe, and makes it easier for doubters to casually dismiss our certitude as childish fantasy and outdated superstition.
   We can confidently rest in peace, since we know for sure that our awakening will come.

31 October 2021

Insightfully Blind

When you think about it, the story of Bartimaeus’s encounter with Jesus in Mark 10:46-52 is curious. In a way, Bartimaeus already has more than he asks for:

They came to Jericho. And as he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a sizable crowd, Bartimaeus, a blind man, the son of Timaeus, sat by the roadside begging. On hearing that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, “Jesus, son of David, have pity on me.” And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he kept calling out all the more, “Son of David, have pity on me.” Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.” So they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take courage; get up, he is calling you.” He threw aside his cloak, sprang up, and came to Jesus. Jesus said to him in reply, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man replied to him, “Master, I want to see.” Jesus told him, “Go your way; your faith has saved you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way.

   You might say that he saw before he could see!
   The gospel story is clear. There was no doubt; the man was blind. He had to ask others who it was that was walking down the road that led from the town. But, as soon as he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he saw who it was.
   Never mind superficialities like how he was dressed or walked or talked—no matter. Was he short or tall, thin or fat, light or dark? Bartimaeus couldn’t “see” in the sense that his eyes did not work, but he had something greater—insight!
   He “saw” in the Nazarene a man of God. He “saw” in Jesus one with a divine power. He “saw” in this stranger the possibility of being healed and made new.

   And, what did Jesus recognize in this “blind” supplicant? That unlike so many others who saw him and were blind, this “blind” man had a deeper kind of vision. Jesus called it “faith”.
   Faith isn’t wishful thinking. Faith isn’t a kind of childish fantasy or imagination. Faith isn’t a sort of desperate groping in the dark. Faith is insight. Faith is discernment. Faith is certitude.
   This peculiar way of discernment and insight is not a matter of knowledge but of love and trust!
   Bartimaeus had certitude, no doubt whatsoever, that Jesus could heal him and give him physical vision. He was sure. He knew that Jesus could do it. He saw who Jesus really was.
   Crazy, wasn’t it? The “blind man” begging for vision saw far better than many an other who stood nearby with eyes wide open!
   But there’s more to the story: Bartimaeus’s insight—and Jesus’ gift—had consequences.
   Bartimaeus was now facing a fork in his life’s road: to follow the majority along the popular road that they thought they clearly saw or to take the narrower way that was harder to follow but for which he had insight and could really “see”.
   Jesus is an elusive guide to follow, not in that he is trying to deceive or mislead but in that his way, the right way, the best way, is a narrow path and needs to be traveled with great care and eyes wide open.
   To follow him isn’t a matter going with the flow. It requires not just sight but insight. It requires trust and confidence without reservations. It is a matter of faith.
   May the Lord tell each of us, “Go your way; your faith has saved you.”

24 October 2021

Playing Many Roles

A great actor/actress can handle a wide variety of roles. Sometimes they can so effectively become “another person” that at first we don’t realize who they really are.
   Others may be excellent and entertaining performers, but they’re always more or less playing the same kind of character even in very different situations.
   In life, each of us has a variety of roles to play and, similarly, sometimes, for better or for worse, we’re playing the same character throughout. For example, you may be a good mother, but you’re not a good sister if you treat your adult siblings like children.
   As a priest, I’m used to being called “Father”, but a more accurate label for what people expect might be “Brother”. Most people want understanding and compassion from a priest more than paternal correction and being told what to do.
   There also are various categories of roles we play throughout our lives. Some are rooted in biology like child or senior, sister or brother, mother or father, aunt or uncle.
   Some are the result of actions we take such as husband or wife, employee or employer, leader or follower; others result from the actions or rules of others like victim or prisoner, citizen or illegal alien, celebrity or outcast.
   And, of course, the passage of our lives casts us in different roles all the time.
   What defines each role we play is relationship, and most of the labels we use for them involve relationships
   If I have great love and concern within me, but never manifest it to others in word or deed, then I can’t be considered a lover or an empath. I’m not playing the role, even though perhaps I could.
   There’s no hypocrisy in all of this. We all behave differently to different people at different times. We don’t act the same with every other person we relate to in our lives. We are multifaceted, complex beings.

   If each of us has a variety of relationships in our lives and a variety of roles to play—if each of us doesn’t communicate all that we are and all that we can be in every relationship we have, what about God?
   Over the centuries, different religious traditions have developed different ways to describe the different relationships we have to God and the different relationships God has to us.
   For example, in the early books of the Bible, God is described as the personal God of Abraham. Later he’s called the God of his immediate descendants, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Later still God is considered the family or tribal God of the Israelites (the descendants of Jacob).
   It is took some centuries before the Israelites moved from polytheism to monotheism, from “You shall not have other gods beside me.” to a denial of the very existence of “other gods”.
   The Messianic Jews (the early Christians) began to describe the one and only God in terms of a variety of relationships and ways of communication, especially as:
   – Father: God in the role of the ultimate source of all being and life, the maker, the creator, the sustainer.
   – Son: God self-manifesting through the long-awaited Messiah, Jesus, and his life, example, and teachings.
   – Spirit: God communicating and acting through each, every, and all human persons, in the depths of their being.
   We don’t have up-to-date words to label this complexity, and some of our traditional words no longer mean what once they did.
   We believe in one God, although “Holy Trinity” almost sounds like we don’t!

20 June 2021