Names for God: Part 2 of a Series
Woven into the fabric of Hebrew tradition is the wise teaching that the name of God is never to be uttered. The powerful and mysterious name, given in the story of Moses’ encounter with God in the form of a burning bush, is usually translated “I Am What I Am.” It’s the designation of something more than we can grasp, not to be treated lightly. A reader of the Hebrew substitutes adonai, or “the Lord,” when reading scripture aloud.
Any other name denotes an individual we can know, someone with particular characteristics and habits, whose existence necessarily means limitations, a being among other beings. But this name is different, one that we cannot wield with understanding, a name beyond names.
I’m drawn to that mystery, but if God is beyond what can be named, it’s hard to know where to begin. How can I even think about, much less have a relationship with, the unfathomable source of life?
A sense of divine presence is somewhere to start, or the longing to experience it. The Psalms speak to that kind of knowing: As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. We can’t claim the stream, or apprehend its course; but we know our need for it and the experience of being refreshed by its waters.
And we have not only our own individual experience to draw on, but that of countless generations who have gone before. Many left their mark on the world’s faith traditions. When we find a line of liturgy or scripture or interpretation that resonates, we have a guide who helps us prepare for our own experience of the divine. We have gifts of poetry, art, and music that can open our hearts and point the way. The earth itself speaks eloquently of divine beauty, renewal, and creativity.
The unutterable name of God is spelled out everywhere, if only we can learn to read.
I’d love to hear about your experience. What stirs in you a sense of divine presence, or longing? Is it something you seek out in the rituals and routines of your life, or something that takes you by surprise?
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Nice piece. I can’t say I even fully understand or apprehend the other people in my life, much less the Author of Creation. I am perpetually amused by those who think they understand God and can explain God and can tell you down to the smallest detail what God likes and doesn’t like. When one really takes seriously the idea of holiness, it is humbling. We realize how ineffable and unknowable God is.
I guess I am kind of odd, but I almost never suffer a longing for God. I feel that God is present and close to me. I have times of higher awareness of that, but I don’t suffer much from a sense of God not being with me. My awareness of God is most often increased in times of great stress and also, in times when I am experiencing something wonderful that delights me. The daily rituals and routines have an hypnotic effect on me, even the good ones. I am usually at my best when I can break out of the ordinary courses.
Thanks, Syd. I have to chuckle at this line from your comment: “I can’t say I even fully understand or apprehend the other people in my life, much less the Author of Creation,” and I couldn’t agree more. It’s like Moses taking off his shoes when he saw the burning bush, knowing he was standing on holy ground. That kind of humble response seems to me about the most faithful one to be made.
I appreciate hearing your experience of the nearness of God. It’s encouraging. What you say makes me think the longing I’m familiar with is not so much feeling God’s absence as it is being caught in my own limitations. It’s too easy to isolate myself thinking of all the things I should do better. That’s one way to miss out on the presence of God.
Glad you stopped by.
Your words brought to mind two quotations —a small part, I suppose, of the countless generations that have gone before:
“A comprehended God is not God. ”– John Chrysostom
“God is our name for the last generalization to which we can arrive. ”– Ralph Waldo Emerson
Your thoughtful reflections always produce a pause. Thank you.