It’s about impossible for anyone who has ever read anything I’ve written to not notice how much I reference God. It’s a lot! In fact, it’s actually more difficult for me not to reference God than it is to do so. Why? Well, as much as I’ve tried at times to avoid God throughout my life, God just won’t leave me alone. It seems wherever I go, whatever I do, there’s God. And, I also suspect, that as I acknowledge this continual presence of God, most people just might assume this is how I see God: as a superhuman figure who has such a particular plan for me that s/he will actively intervene so I can fulfill it. After all, what else can one think upon reading the words in one of my recent blogs: “But God wasn’t done with me.” So, let me say this loud and clear:
I do not know “God” as a superhuman figure located somewhere in “heaven”.
Neither do I believe that God seeks to actively direct any of us in one way or another for two reasons:
Not only do we possess free will, God loves us unconditionally.
But yet, my actual language seems to indicate otherwise. Furthermore, I must admit this – there was a time when I actually did believe in that superhuman, muscular old man perpetually watching over us from up above. How could I not have believed as such, given the countless Saturday afternoon visits to the confessional where I was required to give a precise count of how many times I may have hit a younger brother or lied to my mother? And, of course, in reading the parable of the Prodigal Son so many times in CCD classes, how could I not come to experience God as a forgiving father with arms wide open willing to forgive everything I could ever do? Or what about being immersed in Catholic Social Teaching, being told that God expects each and every one of us to work for justice by actively serving the poor and vulnerable in our midst? How could I not feel that if I didn’t do such service that I was personally letting God down? Yes, I will admit, that for much longer than I care to admit, when I thought of God, I reflected upon a rather concrete figure – sometimes male, other times female – but definitely one that, well, took human form. Now, I must also admit that those reflections did provide me not only with the comfort I needed – they also inspired me to grow. But yet, but yet…. no longer do I accept such a specific figure for God. So, what then is God? Who is God to me? And here I must say:
I don’t know!
Oh, I can tell you through images and sensations what I have experienced while bumping into the presence I identify as God, but as to what or who God actually is, I will say it again:
I don’t know.
I have found that just as so many mystics have said, God is utterly beyond comprehension, a truth stated within The Catechism of the Catholic Church when God is described as being, “the inexpressible, the incomprehensible, the invisible, the ungraspable” (42). At the same time, though, quite a few people, myself included, have experienced God’s presence and so, to describe and share that experience with others, we must use words, words that can capture the essence of what we’ve known, but words that are also limited in their ability to say it all. Again, The Catechism: “between Creator and creature no similitude can be expressed without implying an even greater dissimilitude” (43). As I said, though, there once was a time when, not only didn’t I not quite comprehend the meaning in these words, I actually believed God was the image in my mind. What changed?
Not God…. rather my level of consciousness.
For several decades, psychologists and other researchers have been documenting the progression of growth within the human mind. Most recently, Ken Wilber has published several books on the topic, specifically on human consciousness. In having extensively researched several, maybe even all, of the leading theories, he’s developed his own scheme that documents how each and every person (and human societies as well) move through stages of consciousness as they grow and experience life. He insists that each stage must be experienced (no skipping a grade here), while, at the same time, acknowledging that most people stop somewhere along the way, never attaining the highest levels which he designates as being those of unitive consciousness. He also explains that while at a particular level of consciousness, a person will experience reality (and God) in a particular way, one that is shaped by the values, needs and common desires of that stage. For instance, a person who is at a “tribal” level of consciousness will experience God as a protector so intent upon saving “his” special people, that the deaths of any outsiders may be justified if threats are perceived. In great contrast is the experience of someone at a “global” awareness of God. While identifying with all people at that level, such a person could not imagine God approving the death of anyone, even an enemy, because in that experience of God, God would not make such a distinction.
In having read some of Wilber’s works, I can now more easily accept not only that my experience of God has changed, but also the validity of my earlier imagery. Yes, as a child I did fear that all-powerful God who was capable of seeing everything; yes, as a teen I came to know God as being so forgiving that I could do almost anything I wanted; and yes, my view of God who wanted me to spend as much time as possible working for justice was just as genuine. And now, well, although there is something of a dominant image that lingers – that of a flowing life force calling all in creation forward through evolution – something has changed in me. No longer do I need to insist that this is it! That this particular experience of God is the most correct, the most accurate the most real! Rather, I do suspect, it’s more a reflection of who I am in this moment than of God. And so, I must humbly say when asked as to who or what God actually is, I don’t know.
And yet, I keep bumping into God… and I keep longing to share those experiences with as many people as I can. And so, to offer these moments of grace to all, I will need to use words and images that can convey something of my experience, and in writing about an experience of the past, I need to respect my reality of that time, knowing that even if I, today, might interpret a particular encounter of God a bit differently, back then I could only experience God as I could – and it was that experience that affected me so profoundly, that called me to such growth, that even, at times, cracked open my heart just a little more. And so, I treasure them all – even if I really have to smile at that little girl standing in the confessional line who so earnestly counted up each and every sin she could think of – and even adding a few more just to be sure – to please that old man up in the sky.