Words, words, I’m so sick of words: The limits of words in defining God

“Words! Words! I’m so sick of words!” – Eliza Doolittle (My Fair Lady)

Decisions of the U.S. Supreme Court demonstrate the power of words. It is in an opinion from the nation’s highest court that we come to witness the parsing of what speech is protected by the Constitution or whether a law violates one’s right to “bear arms.” The First Amendment is a mere 45 words that has resulted in judicial opinions with thousands of words. As a result, we can see how important words are in bringing clarity to a situation. With words being given such power, it is no surprise that as human beings we have used them to define God. If we look out a window and watch a rambling brook, do we as humans have the capacity to define it as beautiful or ugly? Or are we attempting to apply words created by the human mind to define a creation that has been painted by our Creator?  Proverbs 17:27 cautions us, “A man of knowledge uses words with restraint.” This is of course a caution for “restraint” that is subjective, for just as the Court clarifies rights in thousands of words as people we have come to understand this restraint from millions of different perspectives. Just as words have the power to clarify and unite, so too do they have the power to divide and invoke ambiguity.

I do not seek to contend that God condemns the application of words to defining God, but rather I wonder what loss of understanding occurs because of the limits of human language. For instance, when we refer to God as “Him,” do we then perceive an image of God through our own understanding of maleness? Or do we recognize that God is neither male nor female, but rather referred to as “Him” with a divine understanding of “Fatherhood?” In this example we can see how language acts to potentially exclude rather than include members of the Christian family. By merely applying an earthly understanding of “Him” and “Fatherhood,” we risk viewing God as a mere “man” and fail to fully understand His divinity. The inability of words to fully explain God is captured beautifully in the tale of Augustine and the boy he encounters along the beach attempting to empty the sea into a small hole in the sand. When Augustine questions the small boy and criticizes his endeavor for being impossible, the boy responds by pointing out that Augustine is equally incapable of fully defining the Triune God with merely words.

Aside from gender, the limit of language is also made evident in considering the meaning of love. Turn on a television and you’ll see love presented as a “one night stand,” the love a fan has for his/her favorite musician, or the “love” between members of the Jersey Shore household. Is this understanding of love the same that we then turn and apply to 1 John 4:8-10, when we read, “Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love. In this way the love of God was revealed to us: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might have life through him.” The limits of words are especially evident in the English language. Consider the fact that we apply the same word “love” to our favorite actors and actresses, our spouse, and God. Is it possible to understand what differentiates the meaning of love in each of these cases or do we merely apply this word without fully discerning its usage?

In his dialogue with Adeodatus about the limits of words, Augustine poses the question, “Haven’t you ever seen that men ‘converse’ with deaf people by gesturing?” To which he answers, “When this happens, they show us without words not only visible things, but also sounds and flavors and other things of this sort. Even actors in the theaters unfold and set forth entire stories without words – for the most part, by pantomime” (The Teacher, Ln. 29-36). It is with this example that Augustine helps us to understand not only the limits of words, but also the unnecessary nature of them. Augustine continues his dialogue with Adeodatus by questioning, “What if I should ask you what walking is, and you were then to get up and do it? Wouldn’t you be using the thing itself to teach me, rather than using words or any other signs?” (Ln. 53-55). Relating Augustine’s question about walking to this essay’s discussion of using words to define God, we see by Augustine’s question how the only way in which we convey the meaning of words is by living the words we speak.

Bringing life to words is fully evident in the New Testament. In the Gospel According to John we read, “And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we saw his glory, the glory as of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth” (John 1: 14). In this way, God breathed life into his word by sending his Son to live among us and teach us the meaning of the word. Today, as we apply words to our own understanding of God, let us not forget that it is in living these words that we show others their meaning.

In the end, we discover that words have been constructed by humans and therefore are inadequate for defining God. Amidst their limitations, words remain a powerful force by which to share the message of Christ with the world. This message will be heard by the power of words, but it will only be witnessed by the power of example. By following Christ and living our lives in a way that brings the word to life we continue to bear witness to a God who is omnipresent and not limited by the words of humankind.

Homemade ashes on Ash Wednesday

Almost ten years ago, at the age of eleven, I started teaching religious education at my hometown’s Catholic Church. One night, pulling into the parking lot with my father, who assisted with teaching, I turned to him and screamed, “Dad, it’s Ash Wednesday and we forgot to get ashes!” He turned, looked at me, and clearly sensed my concern. If you know my father, you know that he’s quick to ascertain a suitable solution. In this case, he opened the middle console, whipped out a pack of matches, and made his own ashes, which he then marked on my forehead. At the time, I thought this was a rather silly solution and perhaps even sacrilegious, but looking back I realize that it was that night in the Church parking lot that I learned the true meaning of Ash Wednesday. I came to understand that the day on which millions of Christians around the world go to churches to receive ashes is not about being a part of some elite club, but rather about humility and growing with Christ.

In his 1996 homily for Ash Wednesday, Blessed John Paul II quoted from Psalm 51, “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love… of my sin cleanse me… I acknowledge my offense… Against you only have I sinned… Create in me a clean heart, O God, and a steadfast spirit renew within me… Cast me not out from your presence, and take not your holy spirit from me” (cf. Ps 51[50]:3-13). It is at this moment in the Liturgical Year that we are called to reflect on our sins while committing ourselves to spiritual renewal. In calling upon us to consider the need for renewal in our own lives, Pope Leo the Great posed the following questions, “Which of the faithful does not know what virtues he ought to cultivate, and what vices to fight against? Who is so partial or so unskilled a judge of his own conscience as not to know what ought to be removed, and what ought to be developed?” In essence, Leo is reminding us that we are already aware of our wrongdoings and how as human beings we are constantly growing in our relationship with Christ. In order to clearly bear witness to our sins, we must exercise humility; a humility that allows us to judge ourselves without partiality. In these moments, we admit our own imperfections while equally committing ourselves towards a more perfect state.

As we enter the season of Lent we are called to become dust, for “Remember, man, you are dust and to dust you will return” (“Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris,” cf. Genesis 3.19). It is the earth itself that holds the history of humanity. The soil we walk is subdued with the blood of war and tears of joy; however, it is in recognizing the stories contained in our own dust that allow us to see the need for spiritual renewal during this time that calls each of us to witness truth. Just as Christ stood amidst the dust of the desert for forty days, may we use the next forty days to stand in our own deserts to reflect on our lives and relationship with Christ. At the same time let us remember that we are not alone on this journey, that our desert is but one of many, and that together we can find the living water amidst what appears to be a dry desert. God will guide our hearts to a wellspring of renewal that will bring forth the promise of peace and joy found in the love of God.

In our moment of poverty in the desert, may we be drawn nearer to the poor and moved to action on their behalf. I was reminded of this call to service each day while living in New York City and attending daily mass at St. Paul the Apostle, just outside of Columbus Circle. Fr. Jack would always include “those who have no one to pray for them” among the daily prayer intentions. I’m not sure I understood the meaning of such a statement at the time, but as we enter this Lenten season, its meaning is all too clear. During this period of renewal, may we also renew our commitment to bring God’s message to those who long for love.

In writing this reflection, it amazes me what insight can be gained from sitting in a Church parking lot. Looking back on that night, I realize that my father helped me to understand that this day is not just about ashes, it’s also about having the courage and humility to stand in the desert, admit our sins, commit our lives to bringing love to those in need, and cultivating a deeper relationship with our Creator.