Re-Imagining God

Song of Solomon 2: 8-13

Roger Lynn

August 19, 2018

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It may be true that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but the names we use do matter. How we describe something, or someone, has a profound impact on how we experience that which is being described. My neighbor may be the kindest, gentlest person on the planet, but if I’ve got it in my head that he is angry, violent, and abusive I’m not likely to invite him over for dinner. Nor am I likely to encourage my family and friends to spend time with him. The names we use do matter.

How we talk about God matters. It doesn’t change who God is, but it certainly affects how we experience God. And it affects how we relate to the world “in God’s name.” Throughout history there have been countless names for God. Even just within our own tradition there are a great many. The hymns and readings we are using in today’s service lift up several of these. And yet, the lion’s share of the time God is described with a very small handful of names. Even just a casual glance through our hymnal reveals how often “Father” and/or “Lord” show up. Both have gender-exclusive limitations. Both have patriarchal and hierarchical overtones. Lord has militaristic and/or feudal implications. And yet, these two names are frequently the only terms people use to reference God. 

In poetry, when trying to describe something vast and incomprehensible, a wide variety of images and descriptive words are brought to bear. Imagine what might happen if we were to use that same approach with our understanding of God. How might our lives and our world be transformed if we began to “re-imagine” God? 

Today’s text from the Song of Solomon is a pretty good place to begin. It’s love poetry. In fact, it’s erotic love poetry. And it’s in the Bible! It’s in the Bible because it offers an alternative way of imagining God – as lover! For many of us it’s uncomfortable. It’s certainly not what we’re used to. I was once in a clergy text study group when we were looking at this scripture and one of my colleagues remarked that when she was growing up she wasn’t allowed to even read Song of Solomon because it was “of the devil.” But look what happens when “lover” becomes the lens through which we view God. Spending time in God’s presence becomes a “want to” thing rather than a “have to” thing. It is inviting. It is exciting. It is welcoming. When I begin to see myself as one who is loved by God, in this dramatically intimate, passionate, “lover-of-my-soul” sense, it profoundly transforms how I see myself. God is inviting us to step beyond our isolation and live in an abundant and beautiful world – to be free and whole and loved all the way down to the very core of our being.

The poet Hafiz imagines God this way:

Every child has known God,

Not the God of names,

Not the God of don’ts,

Not the God who ever does anything weird,

But the God who only knows four words

And keeps repeating them, saying:

‘Come dance with Me.’

Come Dance.

(from “The Gift” translated by Daniel Ladinsky)

I am more and more convinced that when we understand God in narrowly defined terms, we tend to experience life in narrowly defined terms. Either we relegate God to some small corner of our lives, because that is the only place where God fits, or worse, we limit our lives to the small dimensions that will fit with our limited understanding of God. Either way we lose because our lives are diminished. And it doesn’t have to be that way. We can choose to expand our horizons and let in more God. We can choose to name God more fully.

As many of you know, one of my favorite names for God is Ruach, which is the Hebrew word for Spirit. It also happens to be the word for wind and breath. It’s helpful to have words like this in our repertoire, because it increases the likelihood that we will notice God’s presence. I remember one occasion when I was walking the labyrinth on a windy day. Because I know about Ruach I immediately became aware that I was not alone on my walk. When I reached the center of the labyrinth and paused to spend a few moments in prayer, I asked for God to blow in my life. And almost immediately the intensity of the wind dramatically increased. I was immersed in God’s windy presence. If God was only “Father” or “Lord” to me, I suspect that I would have missed a powerful experience there in the labyrinth. I simply wouldn’t have recognized it for what it was.

The names we use matter. The ways we imagine God matter. It shapes who we are. It shapes how we live our lives. It shapes how much of God we have room for. It shapes how much of God we have the capacity to share with the world. I want to be open to the vast, multi-faceted, richly diverse dimensions of the sacred. I want to experience the God who is lover of my soul, healer of my brokenness, breath of my life, wind for my sails, mystery that challenges my routines. I want to immerse myself in the God who calls me to wholeness and fullness so that I can help bring wholeness and fullness to the world.

It’s not always comfortable. It will likely lead us into uncharted waters. We may find ourselves needing to let go of some old and cherished traditions as we embrace understandings which are new and unfamiliar. And I am confident that the God who is revealed in countless names and is beyond the ability of any name to fully capture will be with us on the journey. Our lives will be richer and the world will be richer. I invite you to join me in the ongoing process of re-imagining God. Amen.