Someone wrote to me awhile back and asked where in the world
I came up with some of the vocabulary used in some of my postings. They have gone to the dictionary for the
meaning of some of the words. Well, I
had to confess that I also sit with a dictionary, not only when I am writing but
also when I am reading. Especially when
I am reading books published prior to the 1960s. It wasn’t long after I started writing Ruminations
that I realized that words have become the lifeblood to my thoughts. I think that words are to my writings what
food is for a “good” cook. I can spend
days, and often do, imagining just the right combination of words put together
in such a way that a beautiful sentence or idea emerges. I’ve experienced
this a few times and when it happens, folks will comment on it. I cross it in many of the books I read as
it actually takes me beyond the page, creating images, pictures, colors,
sounds, smells or feelings in my mind. I
know that it does the same for Bettyann, just by the way she re-tells the story of
a book she is reading. And just as Bettyann
(great cook) combines the right ingredients to create a sumptuous feast, a
skilled writer mingles words and carves out sentences to offer an experience of
transcendence beyond the everyday realities of life.
Words are powerful. They point beyond themselves as signposts illuminating a greater reality. But there are times when words are not enough for me. There are mysteries too deep that lie beyond their reach, such as when a joy experienced is too great, or sorrows are too deep to be expressed. In such encounters, words seem rudimentary and inadequate. Sometimes, there is nothing that I can write that can adequately capture the depth of what I’m experiencing or contemplating. As a side note: I wonder how many persons who committed suicide for no apparent reason had anyone to listen, in depth, to their soul.
Reading Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, an early Christian Father, John of Damascus understood and quoted that there was a relationship between "the things that are spoken and the things that are ineffable, the things that are known and the things that are unknowable." Many other Fathers understood that there was a limitation of language when speaking about the Divine nature. God's essence, or ousia in the Greek, is something that could not be captured by words since God is beyond human understanding. God must do the extraordinary—divine revelation—for anything of God to be known.
Pelikan, a Church historian, describes this early Christian theology as apophatic: "Theology was, at one and the same time, sublime and 'apophatic,' that is, based on negation. He says that the evangelist John had said, 'no one has ever seen God,' which means one could see the glory of God, but not God himself." God's being or essence was unknowable by human beings. In other words, all that could be spoken of was what God had chosen to reveal.
And God's chosen means of ultimate revelation was startlingly in a person—the Logos, the very Word of God. The writer of Hebrews proclaims: "Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created the worlds. He is the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word" Hebrews 1:1-3. In the person of Jesus, the Logos, God is revealed.
And in Jesus, the Word of God, the Word beyond words can be seen. As John's gospel does assert: "No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known" John 1:18. What we can know about God is centrally communicated in a person through his life and ministry. Jesus embodied God's saving work of redemption in his life, his death, and his resurrection. God is revealed definitively in Jesus who came to seek and to save what was lost.
As one who spoke from behind a pulpit for many years, stood beside sick and death beds, more recently, and now a day, reflects and records more, I know the POWER OF WORDS. In the defense of the gospel, a carefully crafted sermon, a tearful good-by to life, or fingers touching a keyboard, are often critical to breaking through the barriers of this day. And yet, I am reminded that words have limits, that people must see the gospel lived out, and that they must experience its power. The gospel must be embodied by those who claim to believe it. Francis of Assisi exhorted his band of followers to "preach the gospel at all times, and if necessary use words." And if I'm honest, embodying the gospel takes far more creative effort than simply crafting an argument or a well-written sentence.
Father, God, in this word-saturated society of ours, may your Spirit convict me that the early Christian understanding of the Word beyond words will remind me of the limited power of words. And that divine mysteries are so great that words fall short—as they should.
Words are powerful. They point beyond themselves as signposts illuminating a greater reality. But there are times when words are not enough for me. There are mysteries too deep that lie beyond their reach, such as when a joy experienced is too great, or sorrows are too deep to be expressed. In such encounters, words seem rudimentary and inadequate. Sometimes, there is nothing that I can write that can adequately capture the depth of what I’m experiencing or contemplating. As a side note: I wonder how many persons who committed suicide for no apparent reason had anyone to listen, in depth, to their soul.
Reading Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, an early Christian Father, John of Damascus understood and quoted that there was a relationship between "the things that are spoken and the things that are ineffable, the things that are known and the things that are unknowable." Many other Fathers understood that there was a limitation of language when speaking about the Divine nature. God's essence, or ousia in the Greek, is something that could not be captured by words since God is beyond human understanding. God must do the extraordinary—divine revelation—for anything of God to be known.
Pelikan, a Church historian, describes this early Christian theology as apophatic: "Theology was, at one and the same time, sublime and 'apophatic,' that is, based on negation. He says that the evangelist John had said, 'no one has ever seen God,' which means one could see the glory of God, but not God himself." God's being or essence was unknowable by human beings. In other words, all that could be spoken of was what God had chosen to reveal.
And God's chosen means of ultimate revelation was startlingly in a person—the Logos, the very Word of God. The writer of Hebrews proclaims: "Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created the worlds. He is the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word" Hebrews 1:1-3. In the person of Jesus, the Logos, God is revealed.
And in Jesus, the Word of God, the Word beyond words can be seen. As John's gospel does assert: "No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known" John 1:18. What we can know about God is centrally communicated in a person through his life and ministry. Jesus embodied God's saving work of redemption in his life, his death, and his resurrection. God is revealed definitively in Jesus who came to seek and to save what was lost.
As one who spoke from behind a pulpit for many years, stood beside sick and death beds, more recently, and now a day, reflects and records more, I know the POWER OF WORDS. In the defense of the gospel, a carefully crafted sermon, a tearful good-by to life, or fingers touching a keyboard, are often critical to breaking through the barriers of this day. And yet, I am reminded that words have limits, that people must see the gospel lived out, and that they must experience its power. The gospel must be embodied by those who claim to believe it. Francis of Assisi exhorted his band of followers to "preach the gospel at all times, and if necessary use words." And if I'm honest, embodying the gospel takes far more creative effort than simply crafting an argument or a well-written sentence.
Father, God, in this word-saturated society of ours, may your Spirit convict me that the early Christian understanding of the Word beyond words will remind me of the limited power of words. And that divine mysteries are so great that words fall short—as they should.
Thank you for the deep good news, in that Your revelation is personal, embodied in Jesus. This being backed up in
