Names for God: Part 3 of a Series
The dozens of names used for God in the bible include beautiful and imaginative ones, evidence of long history and deep relationship with the Holy One beyond names. Each name for God stretches to articulate a particular experience of the sacred: beautiful, bright hope in Morning Star, the source and end of all in Alpha and Omega, the object of longing in Desire of All Nations, ever-renewing strength and refreshment in a Fountain, the steady certainty of a Rock, just to name a few. It’s interesting to scan such lists as the biblical names for God here, and names for the different aspects of the trinity here.
Jesus names his relationship with the source of life, strength, and guidance by referring to the divine as Father, suggesting a closer and more intimate relationship than the traditional Lord. He is also naming a divine relationship when he refers to himself as the vine and his followers as the branches.
The names we use are necessarily metaphorical—suggestions for ways of thinking of God based on something we’ve experienced of God and of the world. Maybe it is tender love, or transforming power; it could be a light in the dark, or a stone rolled away; it might be a new way of seeing our circumstances, or a sense of connection to another person. We say God is love, strength, vision, light, renewal, unity—all describe God, none is the final word.
Any name or metaphor reflects a single flash of perspective—one bit of colored light in the kaleidoscope of names, one of myriad possibilities for describing an experience or relationship with God. None is complete, so any name used exclusively becomes false. If God is always Almighty, then we may miss the still, small voice. If God is always He, then our sense of God is not only limited to masculine traits and roles, but to human ones. If the divine is just another being, much like another person only magnified, we may not be prepared to encounter other expressions of the holy.
Learning to use a variety of names for God has enriched my faith. My spiritual life grew deeper when I began to think of God in new ways, with new names. Allowing my understanding of God to grow has helped me to grow.
May the faithful ever continue to conceive new names for the divine, and may those names be accepted into living, growing communities of faith.
Are there names for God that you resist? What names are most resonant for you?
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There is a hymn in the UU hymnal, Bring Many Names, that is about this very thing.
I think about this all the time; I’m an employee of a religious institution – an Episcopal choir director – and the view of the divine from inside the institution is very different from what I can read in places like Mildly Mystical. It seems to me that the institution relies on words that have become peculiar to it, words like Master, Slave, Lord, etc, which once described relationships both lawful and customary, relationships in the daily experience of their hearers. Today, those words describe relationships prohibited by law in this country, relationships of which we have no experience at all. Except of course in church, within the institution. It’s as if the institution wants to name the divine with words that only hold currency within its walls, making of the institution a kind of box to hold a small and comfortable and not-very-threatening divinity.
When I look for words to describe the divine in ways large or mysterious or powerful, I find I have to look outside the institution, in places like the UU hymnal.
Thats how it seems to me, anyhow.
Steve
Thanks for your comment, Steve. I think it’s true that the traditional language of the church is often a remnant from a culture we no longer know anything about. Yet there are folks who become attached to that language because it’s what they’ve always heard in church, and it feels like a connection to their parents and grandparents. That’s the challenge of trying to keep the language fresh. Some love new hymns, some think they aren’t real hymns because they’re new. I’m sure you encounter that in your work as a choir director. Tradition is valuable, but if church is only, or even primarily, nostalgia then it isn’t likely to speak to anyone who wasn’t raised in the church. In that case, it can only continue its decline in numbers.
The institution is about a lot of things, many of them good and worthwhile. Community, service, ritual, education, and some encouragement to develop a spiritual life are all important things that the institution can do well. But the ardent seeking after the divine, and openness to an encounter with what is “large, mysterious, or powerful” has historically been up to the mystics, many of whom dwell at the fringe of the institutions. Yet in their own way, the mystics have kept life in the church. It seems to me a paradoxical relationship.
Glad to hear from you.