Pronouns

Are you still in flux with using pronouns for God? I thought I had it figured out to my satisfaction, but then something happened.

Like many folks of my persuasion, I’ve been substituting God for he wherever possible, while avoiding clunky constructions like God sits on God’s holy throne. For me, this approach still works in many instances.

Lately, though, it’s lost some of its luster, because it takes me away from the personal. There is something profoundly, unutterably personal about the divine presence—at least I perceive it that way—and I need to express it. So I tried something hardly new, but still controversial.

I threw in a few shes.

The effect was unexpected. The feminine pronoun suddenly opened me to ways of thinking about God that I hadn’t known existed. There’s something mind-expanding about “She shall judge between the nations, and impose terms on many peoples,” or “She comes to rule the earth.”

Praying these passages gives me a sense that God does not transcend gender so much as God encompasses gender—both genders—in the same way God encompasses, and is within, everything. I can also see, once more, the power of language to shape our thinking.

As my wise sister-in-law says, “Words mean things.” May we always be attentive to their transformative power.

Another Reason Not to Fear Death

Maybe death isn’t as big a deal as we think. Part of believing that, of course, hinges on believing in the afterlife.

But maybe part of it doesn’t.

Think of it this way. God calls each of us to a life of service—of working with God to make a better world. You respond to that call where you are, serving with the gifts and influence you have. In doing so, you add your efforts to the millions of others who are responding to the same call.

Of course, as one person, you can only do so much. When you realize this limitation, you can easily see that the world becomes a better place primarily through we, not me. To mangle the well-worn proverb, it takes a village to do just about anything.

So what happens when we die? The creation of a better world goes on. The we still exists. Many others pick up where we leave off. Certainly—certainly—our contributions matter, and we have not lived in vain.

Sort of takes the edge off death, doesn’t it?

This is not to make light of death’s profound impact on the living. Live in the world for any length of time, and you’re going to affect people deeply. We’re all so interconnected that the loss of any one of us is profoundly painful. But I wonder whether seeing ourselves as part of that larger, interconnected whole removes the sting from our own death, much as the resurrection does.

Adopting a perspective like this, of course, requires a move away from self-absorption. In our culture, making that move is a constant battle. Thankfully, we have with us the constant presence of God, tirelessly drawing us out of ourselves. If we respond, we can become more fully who God intended us to be…and join with God in re-creating the world.

Wrestling with Everything

One of my more recent posts (“When the Bible Offends”) got me thinking.

Maybe the scriptures aren’t the only thing we need to wrestle with. Maybe that wrestling needs to take place with everything we encounter: every person, every experience, every thought.

Of course, no one has time or energy for all that wrestling. So maybe wrestling isn’t the right metaphor. Perhaps there’s another way to draw insight and lessons from every situation.

I (and many others) have found such attentiveness to be a fruit of the contemplative life: contemplative not in its popular connotation of thoughtful, but to describe a life that is continually open to the divine presence in the here and now. When we live in a contemplative way, we remain open to each situation—and listen carefully for what it has to bring us.

Here’s an example. Like everyone, I often find myself in dull conversations, wishing I could excuse myself. In some of those situations, however—when I’m awake enough—I take a mental step back and just observe. Why has God put me here, now? What is there in this moment that speaks to me? What can I offer to this moment?

Not that there’s a clear answer in every case. But sometimes the required attentiveness is enough to refresh my soul all by itself. And quite often, that person—whom I considered so dull—has something to say that I desperately need to hear.

Joan Chittister, in her book Called to Question, sees a blessed interconnectedness among all such moments in our lives: “Isn’t everything that happens in life simply seeding something to come—and isn’t all of it God? But if that’s true, the question is, then, Are all our thoughts new seeds of life to be pursued?”

I think this type of contemplative approach comes through constancy in prayer and meditation. As we open ourselves to God, we become open to God all around us. That, in turn, makes us anticipate—eagerly—God’s presence and voice wherever, and with whomever, we find ourselves.