I have been pondering root metaphors lately – those key images and analogies we invoke for the church’s life of faith and worship. What prompted these reflections was a recent class in which the presenter used the image of “falling in love” to describe his journey of faith. I cringed. Not that I do not believe the Triune God to be the ultimate fulfillment of every human desiring. I have simply heard (and sung) too many worship songs now whose basic theme is a variation of “Jesus is my boyfriend.” The image of “falling in love with God,” therefore, has become too close to a cliché for me to speak powerfully, in our time. This is the case not least because our fallings in (and out) of love have multiplied. “Intimacy with God” when claimed in the mist of this culture – even well before one gets to “hooking up” — evokes other things than it might have done for medieval mystics.
This brings me, somewhat inelegantly, to my larger point, namely root metaphors for the encounter with God at the heart both of faith and of worship. The liturgical tradition knows a rich set of such root metaphors: from an audience with a Divine King (dominant from the Hebrew Scriptures to many Christian liturgies, East and West), to a mother nursing her child with her own body (present, for example, in early Christian milk-and-honey rituals for the newly-baptized), to the embrace between two lovers. The latter image thrived not least in the early Liturgical Movement, with some monastic writers in particular envisioning the sanctuary as a “bridal chamber” that Christ enters to be with his beloved Ecclesia. Each root metaphor calls forth specific postures of faith and worship. The image of an audience with a Divine King evokes a posture of reverence and awe; the image of two lovers one of passionate union.
A more recent root metaphor for worship has been that of a “dialogue.” Liturgy is here imagined akin to a conversation between God and God’s people. As important as this image has been in the second half of the twentieth century, its limitations are considerable. For one, the image is word-heavy, suggesting that worship is primarily about talking to each other (liturgical logorrhea can ensue). Consequently, the image privileges those whose capacity for speech is well-developed, while others, e.g., babies, the senile, those who communicate non-verbally or with speech impediments, need not apply. Finally, in a contemporary culture that is moving from being word-centered to a multi-mediated visuality, the lure of the image of a “dialogue” with God is weakened.
What to do? Here is what I am not suggesting. First, I don’t believe we can forego images and metaphors when describing our deepest convictions about worship. As human beings seeking to articulate faith in a God beyond all human language, we are dependent on metaphors. Second, I also am not searching for the one perfect metaphor that expresses our experience of what it means to worship the Triune God. There is no such thing. Rather, what I am looking for are those metaphors that both capture the Spirit-sustained truth about worship and also speak powerfully in the world in which we live and are called to articulate our faith. Someone who I think rose to that challenge admirably for her own times was St. Teresa of Avila. Against a dominant image of prayer as approaching God, the Divine Majesty, in fear and trembling, Teresa posited the image of friendship with God. And she memorably challenged one of her nuns who desired to pray rather than do the dishes with the insistence that this God “walks among the pots and pans,” that is, the menial domestic labor of women not only their lofty contemplation. As powerfully as that image spoke into the world of the sixteenth century, we need to find images that do the same but are not the same for the twenty-first century. What might these compelling images be today?
For me, root images for what it means to enter into God’s presence in worship involve “encounter” — yet they are mostly not human encounters. I have a sense that “buddy-images” for God – Jesus as boyfriend, or co-pilot – no longer compel. So, these days, I sometimes envision worship as walking into an ocean of Divine presence, immersing myself so as to drown in divine life. I sometimes experience worship as touching the deepest mystery at the heart of the universe, as I reach out for the “hem of His garment.” Sometimes, worship comes to be a way of simply holding utterly still as the Divine Weaver of the Web of Life re-weaves all broken webs into the very life of God.
I am curious about root metaphors for faith and worship that you cherish? And I would love to know which images you think speak compellingly into our contemporary culture?
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