A triangular God
Untitled |
If
triangles had a God, He'd have three sides. ~Old Yiddish Proverb
This
old proverb puts a different perspective on “So
God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created
them; male and female he created them.” (Genesis 1:27, NIV) As a
triangle would imagine it’s creator to look triangular, humans
logically imagine God to resemble themselves. And maybe that’s a good thing,
or maybe it’s just that visualizing God is impossible for us except
to imagine his love to be like our love, his justice to be like our
justice, his anger to resemble ours, his features to mimic ours.
Artists who’ve attempted to render God’s essence on canvas have
invariably portrayed the figure of a man. (See, for instance,
Michelangelo’s The
Creation of Adam.)
The
problem with personifying God in this manner is that it can come
disconcertingly close to idol worship, and idolatry answers a need
for some person or force outside our reality to give our lives
meaning. Rain gods, sun gods, sea gods, gods of thunder and
lightning, gods of justice where there seems to be no justice, gods
of love where there seems to be so little love. It’s an impulse
that can lead to dependence on what is far away . . . because what is
near fails to satisfy.
Pagan
religions brought this faraway force as close as possible by
worshiping objects, fetishes, and it’s not uncommon for present-day
religionists of many stripes to place confidence in icons, statuary,
texts and other tangible objects, the aura of sanctity surrounding
the objects implanted in consciousness as being representative of
the being or force from far away. The practice of offering something valuable to these
far-away entities (to the point of throwing a
child into a volcano) seen typically as “the most that can be done”
in either adoration or appeasement.
Granted,
Christianity generally is past teaching its children that thunder is
caused by an angry god hurling bowling balls, or that there is a god
that rewards obedience with great wealth, that prevents or causes
events at his pleasure. But we’re not generally past teaching our
children that they must believe in a far-away-God as the invisible
actor and judge in everything, that heaven is “up there” and
hades “down below,” and they’d better watch out.
We tend only to give
lip-service to the idea that when we show mercy to the needy, we may
be “entertaining angels unawares,” (Hebrews 13:2) or that
Christ’s admonition that “Do not say, lo here, or lo there; the
kingdom of God is within you,”(Luke 17:20) or even the oft-repeated
teaching that “God is love.” (1 John 4:8) If God is love, then
the far-away-God is simply not tenable as a faith-nourishing
concept. Love is not a far-away thing; it’s up close and personal,
intimate, immediate.
The
folly of religion generally is that we easily become tied up in
ritual and convention, in icons and fetishes, in formulaic guarantees
of heaven, in endless introspection and theological bickering—when
we could be out there “entertaining angels.” The closer we cling
to the idolatry-impulse-driven, far-away-God, the farther we stray from the
simple gospel summarized in the golden rule. The spirit of love (God,
some call it) is able to grow and prosper under its own energy (Holy
Spirit, some call it) and even though it emanates through human hands
and human mouths, is able to bring about a kingdom of peace and joy
(Jesus called it).
If
you were an artist, how would you paint God? I’m not sure, but I
think I’d come up with something like this:
Mother and Son - Cynthia Epp painting |
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