Thursday, February 02, 2017
G-d: Fire, Light or Santa Claus?
Anybody who studies ethnology or anthropology, or even just
strolls through the British Museum for example, is amazed at the religious
practices of ‘primitive people’, be they African tribes or early Mesopotamian
peoples. In their own way they all build holy places to their gods with the
underlying notion that those gods are fierce, terrifying and awesome. As
spirituality of all sorts finds new followers these days from yoga and New Age
to interest in kabbalah or Eastern monasticism, the accompanying sentiments
seem quite different: God is out there, but no need to be afraid.
A story is reported of a Hasidic Jew who was asked by a friend
whether they could meet the next day and this rabbi answered: “How can you ask
me to make such a promise? This evening I must pray and recite the Shema (the
main daily Jewish prayer). When I say these words, my soul goes out to the utmost rim of life…Perhaps I shall not die this time
either, but how can I now promise to do something at a time after the prayer?”
In other words, for this rabbi there was nothing quaint, cute or controlled
about his act of prayer, since prayer, by definition, is an encounter with the
living G-d and as such, unpredictable. And if G-d is god, then he/she is
completely different from me, outside of my grasp and good for any surprises.
So I better show just a little respect…
C.S.Lewis,
the famous British writer of the last century (and author of the Narnia
Chronicles, amongst others) once observed that every age has its particular
virtues and vices: the Middle Ages were known for their chivalry, but not for
their practice of mercy. If I had pick a corresponding pair of traits for our
own age, I would pick informality and presumption. While former times were
stuck in lots of conventions about how one had to dress, speak, behave in a way
that seriously complicated life, our times are much more egalitarian,
free-flowing and spontaneous. I like that. The flip side is an uncanny tendency
to take others for granted and to presume on the benevolence of others, to the
point of putting them out. I find it unnerving how many people ask me for a
favor or receive a gift from me and never bother to say thank you.
These characteristics spill over into our contemporary view of
spirituality. Assuming our spirituality has any transcendent categories at all
(a lot of it has none these days, so our practice is purely this-sided), we
tend to assume that the divine is kind, approachable and, to use the phrase
from the Little Prince, domesticated, a bit like Santa Claus. So we show up in smart casual attire and
half-expect our deity to clap her hand in excitement that we can spare the
time. Traditional religions have used very different metaphors to depict the
divine: fire is a common image, both because of how vital and primordial it
seems and because of its ability to consume anything in its path. Or, to go
back to the Chronicles of Narnia, where the divine appears in the form of a
lion: Aslan seems a wholly good and kind being, but fearsome, not somebody you
would pull by the mane.
This is not to scare us off any form of religious practice. But
maybe we should consider for a moment what we mean by the sacred or divine: if
it is god, then by its very nature it is different from us. And the goodness of
any god cannot be presumed upon, but just hoped for, since gods are not under
our control, by definition. So when you plan to pray, however you do that,
expect the unexpected, expect light, fire and glory- all the things that occur
at the “rim of life”- and see what happens. And before you promise to see your
friend tomorrow, insert the lovely Arabic phrase “insh’Allah”- God willing.
# posted by tino @ Thursday, February 02, 2017 
