Metaphors, Prayer and the Proper Name of God

There was a heated conversation over at an on-line Clergy Group the other day over a benediction suggested in our denomination's resources for Lent.  The wording including "May God our Father bless you and shield you/May Christ our mother shelter you and carry you....".  As you can imagine, several people were against the new wording, and for many reasons.  Others defended the benediction.  Others liked it, just not in a benediction, which has implications for the name of the Trinity.  Some were practical and simply wouldn't use it because it seemed sort of pastorally insensitive to throw words out at people without talking about them.

I'm pretty sure that those who wrote this benediction, as well as the other prayers for this season, were considering the imagery in the different scripture texts we are using, including the gospel reading for this Sunday, when Jesus laments over Jerusalem and compares himself to a mother hen who longs to gather her chicks under her wings in times of danger.  It's poignant and also a little jarring -- and not just because of the 'Jesus as mother hen' imagery.  I find myself haunted by the whole idea of Jesus saying, "I would have liked to.... but you were not willing."  How's that for power?

Interesting that we didn't talk about that in the Clergy Group.

As for me, I'm all for a multiplicity of images for God, because there are a multiplicity of images for God in the Bible.  Some of them are comforting, some of them are familiar, some of them are jarring, and some of them are poignant.  All of them point to a God is is more than we can imagine.  Rock is a rock, but God is not a rock.  God is a father, but God is not a father.  Words are not adequate, but we need them anyway.  God is a mother hen, a fortress, a parent with a rebellious child.   ("It was I who taught Ephraim to walk, I took them up in my arms; but they did not know that I healed them.  I led them with cords of human kindness, with bands of love.  I was to them like those who lift infants to their cheeks.  I bent down to them and fed them." Hosea 11:3-4)

One of the arguments against using mother for God is that the Trinity is not simply a metaphor that we use to describe God; it is the Proper name of God.  Well.  I will admit that I believe that there is something irreplaceable about "Father, Son and Holy Spirit", but I still won't go so far as to call it God's proper name.  It's not as much about a proper name as it is about naming a relationship.  And it is more important to know that God is related to us than it is to know God's proper name.  Lots of people call me on the phone.  They all seem to know my proper name (although they don't all pronounce it right).  I often hang up on them.  But if one of my sons calls me, I do not hang up.

When we pray, we use words and images (and names) given to us in the scriptures.  They are all inadequate in some sense, but they are all gifts given by a God who promises to come to us, to hear us, to gather us.  They name a relationship, comforting and jarring and poignant, that God has initiated.

So bring on mother hen, who longs to gather us under her wings.  God who is Father Son and Holy Spirit is like a mother hen, who longs to gather us under her wings.

If only we were willing.

Images of God

This is a picture that my stepson painted when he was 11 or 12 years old. It's called "Images of God, and was part of a project he was involved in over at my husband's college. It was re-printed in the St. Paul paper at the time, so we're not the only ones who think it's very good. All of the young people were instructed to paint their "images of God" and this is what my husband's son came up with. Now he's in college, majoring in Biology, thinking about Physical Therapy, also interested in Sociology. He's interested in helping others, doing justice. He also plays trumpet, flugelhorn and mandolin. One problem he might have is fitting all the things he could possibly do into the 80 or so years he might have left. He has a lot of possibilities in his life, many gifts he could use.

Copyright 2007 Spencer K. Roth. All rights reserved. No part of this picture can be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, downloading, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from Spencer K. Roth.

When I think about "images of God", I think about people -- not just John's son, but all kinds of people, each with all her brilliance, with all of the ideas and opinions and gifts each brings to the world. I think of each of us -- bright little pieces of God, fallen to earth, each with some sharp edges, some with cracks, not perfect at all, but together somehow making a pattern that makes sense. This is not to say I don't see the opposite as well: that's a subject for another time. Right now I'm thinking of the image of God I see in each of us and in all of us, in confirmation students and in Alzheimers patients, in mothers and fathers, in artists and business people, in immigrants speaking and singing in a mosiac of tongues.


The tricky part of saying this is, of course, that then I have to admit that the image of God is somehow in people I disagree with, or don't understand. The image of God is even in people who don't see the image of God in me. I suppose that's why the image of the cross is an important part of the picture, reconciling us to each other and to God.


There's a song that I have heard the Seventh Day Adventist Congregation at our church singing, called "When He Cometh." I love the glittering imagery about the children of God:

When He cometh, when He cometh
To make us His jewels
All His jewels, precious jewels
His loved and His own.

Like the stars of the morning
His brightness adorning
They shall shine in their beauty
Bright gems for His crown.

(Cushing/Root)