tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7480207999294007243.post2594090838974175640..comments2024-03-28T04:18:16.323-04:00Comments on The Liberal Pulpit: How We Argue About GodRev. Meredith Garmonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09600609816550758194noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7480207999294007243.post-6973449676848925622016-12-14T00:03:46.603-05:002016-12-14T00:03:46.603-05:00I'd like to offer a different perspective, whi...I'd like to offer a different perspective, which is that there is NO way to talk coherently about God, no matter what part of speech we take the word "God" to be.<br /><br />And yet, the God about whom (which?) we cannot talk coherently, seems to be, for some reason, very important to us. Is there not a contradiction hiding in that observation? How can it be that there's something very important which, however, we cannot discuss coherently?<br /><br />One of this year's Thanksgiving cliches was that we shouldn't talk politics at the family table, at least not if our crazy uncle were to show up, because our crazy uncle was notorious for irrationality about politics --unwilling to let go of, or even be restrained about, some controversial notion, say, "Hillary's a crook," or "Trump's a Russian agent." For the sake of peace in the family, supposedly it would be best to steer clear of such themes entirely.<br /><br />Maybe God-talk's like that too. Maybe it's just too explosive to bring up at the family dinner-table. I know that I have myself adopted the practice of steering clear of God-talk except in situations (say, a seminar with philosophy or theology students) where the discussion will be, well, academic. ("Academic," in some contexts, just means "of no practical importance"; hence, in an "academic" discussion, we can sometimes agree to put our passions aside and to pass over any assertions that in another context would drown our rationality in the juices of emotion.)<br /><br />Some clergy (Meredith Garmon for one, I've noticed) are able to construct sermons in such a way as to make their God-talk academic. That's a rare and often useful talent, perhaps especially among members of the clergy. I suspect it's a talent more often found among UU clergy than in other denominations, since we UU's, for better or worse, have tended to cultivate the capacity to talk in academic terms about otherwise feeling-laden religious topics like "faith," "spirituality," and "God." Some of us have done that mainly for self-protection. I, for example, grew up in a community of theologically conservative Protestants whose children assured me that I was hell-bound because I didn't go to their Sunday School or affirm certain details of their creed. My parents (who were academics as well as UU's) taught me the value of taking such conversations in an academic direction. Even if that move didn't succeed in draining off the emotional content of my playmates' damnation judgments, it did (with most of them anyway) tend to lead them to change the subject.<br /><br />I've noticed that most religious traditions urge silence at certain times. The ancient Hebrews dared not speak the name of God. Taoists tell us that "the way that can be spoken of is not the constant Way." Muslims approach the limits of articulation a bit differently, often insisting on the futility of translating the Qur'an, or taking the view that pictorial representations of the Prophet are blasphemous. Buddhists meditate in silence. Many Quakers eschew all speech in meetings for worship except when guided by an "inner light." I think there's wisdom in these silences. A secular statement of that wisdom comes from Ludwig Wittgenstein: "Whereof we cannot speak, thereof we must be silent." Having written that, Wittgenstein gave up philosophizing entirely for nine years, occupying himself in the meantime as a schoolteacher and musician.<br /><br />Is it not possible that the God notion --like, perhaps, the notion "Hillary's a crook" or "Trump's a Russian agent"-- is one of those subjects that's just so explosive that we cannot speak about it, and about which we'd do well to remain silent? Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05790674902246265414noreply@blogger.com