Sunday
May 26
Metaphorical Understanding
By Marsh Chapel
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Good morning, Marsh Chapel! I hope you have been enjoying our beautiful warm weather this holiday weekend. I personally spent several hours yesterday sitting on the BU beach behind the chapel enjoying the beauty of late spring while working on this sermon. I’d like to thank Dean Hill for inviting me to preach today, even if it is t\Trinity Sunday, notoriously one of the most difficult topics to preach about. But, I’m up to the challenge if you all are!
We’re entering into a new season here at BU – the class of 2024 has graduated, the campus is slightly less bustling than it was a few weeks ago, and we all have a little more breathing room as the slower pace of the summer creeps in. We find time to catch up on our reading and to do some professional development, preparing for the next year. We also have a little more breathing room outside of work for those things that bring us joy and help us learn a new skill or develop a new interest. In my spare time, I have been working on my own self-improvement. Almost three years ago, I jumped back into re-learning German. Now, I had studied German in middle and high school, even into college with the thought that I might be a German major. There’s something I love about the orderliness of the language. It’s almost like an equation to put together a sentence. My drive to get back into learning German, apart from the academic needs I have, was mostly based in relationship. My best friend moved to Germany about eight years ago and she had never studied German. So, as she was learning a new language, I too found myself yearning to go back and relearn what I had forgotten.
I chose to go the path of Duolingo. For those of you unfamiliar, Duolingo is an app that basically gamifies language learning. You earn points for each lesson you complete. You compete with strangers in “leagues” to have the most points at the end of each week. You try to keep up your daily practice streak, earning badges and accolades along the way. If you’re lucky enough, a kind friend will add you to their family plan so you have access to Super Duolingo, which allows you to make as many mistakes as you want and to not have to watch ads. Does anyone here use Duolingo? Ok, well, not to brag or anything, but I’m on a 1064 day learning streak with 44 weeks in the Diamond League. I know that sounds like nonsense if you don’t have the app, but trust me, it’s very impressive.
One beautiful thing about the German language (and yes, I know that it’s often made fun of for sounding harsh and brutal) is how words are formed. You see, one could make the case that Germans are very literal people. When they need to make a new word for something, often times they will take already existing words that sort of explain the meaning of the word and smoosh them together to form a new word. So, for example, Waldsterben, literally forest death, is a term used for tree decline in the 1970’s. Another example, Kümmerspeck, literally, “worry bacon,” means the fat one gains from stress eating. Of course, there are also other words that we know in English that can only be said in German – Shadenfreude, literally “damage or harm joy”, the joy one experiences at the misfortune of another. Or Zeitgeist, literally “spirit time”, meaning the feeling of a particular moment in time. I’m sure there are other examples you can think of in other languages as well, but as I’ve primarily studied German, these are the ones I can point to. It’s how German ends up with compound words over 50 letters long (the longest is 79 letters – I’m not going to try to pronounce it for you, but it is related to how a law should regulate the transfer of monitoring tasks of beef labeling and cattle identification.
The reason that I bring up the linguistic stylings of German words is because it shows how two different, separate words can point to a third meaning while still giving a hint of what the original words stood for. As a learner, it certainly makes it easier to remember what more complex words mean when the root words point to that meaning by their own meanings. The new word both is and is not what the two (or more) root words mean. We don’t exactly have the same usage in English – we’re more likely to come up with a new word rather than sticking two words that describe the thing together and saying that’s the word for it. The funny thing about language is the nuance it carries with it. Native speakers get that nuance. We understand the idioms of our language pretty clearly most of the time and expect that others will also understand those phrases. Working with international students, however, I’ve found that it’s important to evaluate our own language use. Even if you think you’re speaking in a way that’s clear, idioms seem to sneak in unknowingly, leaving those who are not native speakers confused. For example, saying that you’re “pulling someone’s leg” may seem obvious to those who have grown up speaking English, but if you think about what that phrase means literally and what it means figuratively, it’s hard to explain how you mean that you’re only joking, not literally pulling someone’s leg. Language can also serve as a barrier to understanding, especially when that language is used metaphorically.
Throughout the Bible, metaphor is used frequently to explain the attributes of God. God is a rock. God is a mountain. God is a Fortress. God is Love. Jesus is the Word made Flesh. Jesus’ body is the bread and wine. The Holy Spirit is the breath of life. Most notably for this day is our conception of God as Father, Jesus as Son, and the Holy Spirit to compose the triune God. While these separate pieces may function in different ways, Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, for example, in our theological understanding, they are all one. It’s the “great mystery” of Christianity. We understand that these three attributes of God are all God equally, but it’s hard to fully comprehend how 1 + 1 +1 = 1. Language limits our ability to talk about God because God is beyond our conceptually abilities to describe completely. God is defined, in a way, by our relationship with God, which defies complete linguistic capabilities. The 20th Century French philosopher, Simone Weil, states succinctly how challenging it is to know God in our limited capacity as humans:
“There is a God. There is no God. Where is the problem? I am quite sure that there is a God in the sense that I am sure my love is no illusion. I am quite sure there is no God in the sense that I am sure there is nothing which resembles what I can conceive of when I say that word.”1
Weil’s assertion is that human being’s ability to properly conceptualize what God is is impossible because of the limitations of language and our own human thought processes. There is not absolute certainty in her thoughts about God because she is aware of these limitations. God is so completely other than us that we do not have the adequate language to speak about God’s nature except in slivers of what we can compare it to.
That’s where metaphor helps us. Just like the construction of German complex nouns, metaphors are ways of describing something by pointing to what it both “is and is not.” A metaphor creates relational tension between the word being used and the actual thing it is describing. So yes, God is Love, God is the source of love, but God is not just love. God is a rock, in that God is a solid foundation, but God is not literally a rock. Theologian Sallie McFague makes the argument in her book Metaphorical Theology: Models of God in Religious Language that we need to recognize that “metaphor is the way we think, and it is the way the parables – a central form of expression in the New Testament – work.”2 Metaphor isn’t just some literary device used for poetry and artistic thinking, but is the basis for how we think about the world – we naturally relate things to others by their similarities. It’s how we know an apple is red, a stop sign is red, BU’s color is red. The definition of “red” is based on comparison. We build models, whether we know it or not, that aid us in understanding the world. It is also the way that we connect with the Divine. McFague’s central argument in her book by recognizing this use of metaphor in all of our language and particularly in the language of scripture, Christians should develop a series of flexible models of God that allow all people to conceive of the Divine in multiple ways. By doing so, theology is not limited to one dominant viewpoint that can become either idolatrous or irrelevant to the experiences and contexts of Christian worshippers. For example, while the traditional trinitarian model of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit may be comforting and relevant for some, we must recognize how it also alienates and has been weaponized to oppress marginalized peoples.
The Gospel of John is rife with metaphorical language. The Gospel of John is often credited with being the most poetic of the gospels, using literary devices to allow for the mystery of God to be maintained while telling a narrative story about the life of Jesus. In fact, right at the beginning of the Gospel, we find metaphor “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1). And then later in verse 10, John tells us that the Word (Jesus) came into the world, but the world did not know him. The tension of being recognized in the world, but not fully understood makes Jesus into a living metaphor in the Gospel of John. The entire presence of God is shrouded in this mystery as the book progresses. We see some of that mystery in the scripture selected for today.
In today’s Gospel, Nicodemus, a leader in the Jewish community, comes to Jesus and states, “we know that you are a teacher and that you come from God.” Nicodemus thinks he understands Jesus’ place in society because of the things he has witnessed about him – he teaches, and the things he appears to know and do only could come from a divine source. He and the other Pharasees think they know who Jesus is, but Jesus points out that what they think they know is not truly them understanding what his role is, nor how it relates to God and the Holy Spirit. When Jesus speaks of spiritual birth, being born from heaven, Nicodemus is confused – how could someone who is grown be born…again? Jesus’ meanings, like so many times in the Gospels, seems obscured, leaving those he talks to confused or bewildered by his statements. The poetic language Jesus uses to explain himself, God, and the Holy Spirit, the three in one form of God, is meant to provide a framework for those he encounters, but also to reminds them of the divine mystery.
So, we are not alone in our confusion about the Trinity, or how to properly conceive of God. Nicodemus doesn’t understand who or what Jesus is doing or how this relates to the bigger picture of God’s presence in the world. Of course, as we look upon this writing, we know how Jesus’ ministry will progress and how his death and resurrection will demonstrate his role as savior. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t still allowed to feel challenged by God’s nature. It’s here that we need to establish the difference between knowing and understanding something. Knowing usually means having an awareness of something, whereas understanding is a higher level operation of thinking that allows for interpretation, processing, and then application of that awareness. Nicodemus knows that Jesus is a teacher, he is aware of the things Jesus has done to earn that label, but Nicodemus does not understand that while Jesus is a teacher, a teacher in this situation is so much more than explaining facts. Jesus’ ministry brings people into the kingdom of God (another metaphorical idea) and allows them to be spiritually reborn. Jesus’ metaphorical language is bound by human understanding, but pushes Nicodemus and us to think of God as much more than what we can conceive.
Theologians continue this work grounded in the parabolic and metaphorical nature of the scriptures. I mentioned earlier that Sallie McFague’s metaphorical theology aims at creating a framework for thinking about God that allows for multiple models. Each of these models is grounded in a particular starting point, a root metaphor. For the apostle Paul (and Martin Luther) it’s justification through grace by faith. For Augustine it’s radical dependence on God alone. For Paul Tillich, it’s the ultimate concern hidden in the pentultimate concern.3 Out of these root metaphors, then systems of metaphor develop that point back to that root metaphor. So if the primary thinking about God is as a liberator, the metaphorical language used to describe God, such as justice and righteousness will be used more heavily to support that position. There can be multiple ways of thinking about how we relate to God and what that relationship means in our daily lives. What McFague is addressing through this approach to theology is that the metaphors used for God do not become idolatrous or irrelevant to the point that it becomes easy to feel disconnected from the divine. Language is always shifting and is context dependent. Our experiences of the divine should shape the language we use to describe God, rather than being stuck in one mode of understanding. Yes, we rely on tradition as it connects us with the historical church and ways of worship throughout the ages, but we can also use our new experiences and understandings of the world to help us better understand our relationship with the divine through our language. Our models for God help us expand our relationship with God by mirroring God’s expansive presence in our lives.
Take, for example, these series of describing the Trinity from the communion liturgy from my own Lutheran tradition for today:
Holy God, Holy One, Holy Three,
Our Life, our Mercy, our Might,
Our Table, our Food, our Server,
Our Rainbow, our Ark, our dove.
Our sovereign, our water, our wine,
Our light, our treasure, our tree,
Our way, our truth, our life.4
The Trinity is all of these things, and yet at the same time none of these things. Metaphor points us in the direction of God’s qualities, but faith helps us to better understand what those qualities mean for us in our lives. The unfamiliar becomes more familiar as we strive to use the limitations of language to articulate the feelings we have in our relationship with God. Despite our inabilities to fully understand God, we can take comfort in God’s unwavering grace and love. The scripture tells us of this love: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.“ (John 3:16-17) Let us celebrate our relationship of love with God, who is and is not all that we can say. Amen.
