A few weeks back, I was chatting with my spiritual director and somehow I got on the topic of religious language. A friend of mine uses religious language that’s really foreign to me. For example, she might say: “I woke up this morning and was so grateful that the Lord gave me one more day, and so I thanked him with all my heart. Later on, as I ate my cereal, I pondered, ‘Lord, what are you asking of me today? What do you want? Should I go to the store?’” For some reason, her language just makes me a little uneasy. Obviously it bothered me enough that I wanted to process it with someone else! Why does she have to talk like that?
My director’s response was simple enough, “It’s very brave of her to talk like that. She knows that most people in our world don’t sound like her, but she chooses to use that language anyway. What makes you uncomfortable with her language?”
I threw out some bad guesses about religious background and education, but they were all nonsense. I didn’t have a good answer. I’ve just been sitting with that question for a few weeks, trying to ask myself why her language bothers me so much.
God must have heard me crying out, because I certainly ended up reading in the right direction; I stumbled back onto the work of Charles Taylor. His work in A Secular Age may only be from 2007, but it’s a masterwork for religious people of all traditions. He investigates the philosophy of secularism, how it developed, what ideas hold it in place, and what it means for religious thought today. Admittedly, I’m not reading Taylor directly; I’m reading Andrew Root’s The Pastor in a Secular Age, which builds on Taylor’s work to see how pastors understood themselves and their society historically to determine what a pastor’s challenges are today. That being said, it’s a book in Charles Taylor’s tradition. Root is very much building on what Taylor’s work (in a delightfully readable way).
In any case, it had an answer to my burning question: I’m a pretty secular person. It’s no wonder that language about a God that acts feels wrong. Does God exist? Sure! But it’s uncomfortable to address him as a being that acts and moves and has a being. God is, after all, in us! He is sustaining all things! He is creating! At least, that’s the way we talk about him in mainline churches. But if we’re being honest, that’s all pretty passive, impersonal stuff. God looks suspiciously like a weird spark somewhere between personal inspiration and natural law. It’s not the kind of God you really need to worry much about, and it’s certainly not one that you wake up every morning talking to.
Here’s two big reasons that really hit me as why mainstream Western society has a hard time talking about God in an active voice:
1. We’ve dis-embedded God from public life.
Historically, God’s will was understood to be the foundation of public life. Just think about Joan of Arc! Why did she fight the English? Because God wanted France to win. She was God’s instrument, and God’s will was made manifest through her. Again, think about the “divine right of kings.” Why was someone the king? Because God wanted it like that! There was no way to divide what was happening in the world from the active work of God. God acted, and the world was shaped according to his authority.
The rise of democracy made God’s action in the world a little harder to understand. Power wasn’t vested in a king; it was in the will of the people! But if you consider the way that God’s authority was popularly interpreted in the public square, that brings a bit of a problem to seeing God’s work in the world:
[In democracy,] sovereignty comes from the people, not from the king; but the king’s sovereignty comes from above, from God; so democracy is already an implicit rejection of God.Taylor, Dilemmas and Connection: Selected Essays (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 2011), 228.
Ever wonder why so many American founding fathers were deists? This is why! When public life is a primarily a product of human will, rather than divine action, it’s harder to believe in a God that actively takes an interest in public affairs. We moved from a system in which God was acting and the world was shifting according to his will to a system in which people were responsible for organizing themselves to manifest God’s ideal world. God ceased to be the primary actor in public affairs and the role of the individual became far more prominent than ever before.
If you’re a citizen in a Western democracy, you’ve probably internalized this logic. For example, what’s your first thought when a political candidate you despise wins the election? Probably something like, “Dang, we needed to mobilize our voting base more effectively and appeal to a broader audience.” You probably don’t worry that this is a judgement from God for failing to live faithfully. When we have such power at our disposal, it’s hard to envision the results of an election, the outcome of a war, or the laws that we live by as a product of God’s action, rather than our own successes or failures in the public arena.
2. We’ve divided the natural world from divine purpose and action.
In previous eras, everything that happened was full of deep meaning. Lightning struck near you? Sign from God. Good crops? God is happy. The sun rose? God wanted the sun to rise. The whole world was a theater for the divine, and God’s intimate work was everywhere. Was it superstitious by our standards? Oh, absolutely. But every detail mattered intimately. Today? Well, today it’s hard to believe that anything is particularly meaningful. The discovery and codification of natural laws have brought huge breakthroughs to the understanding of science and medicine, but (when they’re coupled with the elements of our secular philosophy) they’ve also closed off our understanding of the universe. Whereas before the universe was open to God’s action, constantly being affected by the divine will (or the will of other, less pleasant entities), now the system is largely seen as self-governing and closed off to any outside parties. For example:
When the fifty-five-year-old woman asks her pastor about her cancer, we’re quick to claim that its cause is impersonal. It’s just the odds, bad luck, the randomness of an impersonal order, or childhood exposure to some toxin or chemical. Yet if this is so—and it might be—then it becomes much harder for her to trust that a personal God can act to heal her. It is less frightening to assume that it is just the odds or bad luck that makes her sick—it’s nothing personal. She did nothing wrong, nor is some malevolent personal force after her. Yet, while this is less frightening, without a personal cause it is much harder to imagine (and explain) the intervention of a personal God in a presumed impersonal universe. And maybe more importantly, it becomes a challenge to provide meaning to her illness and death. She is stuck with a meaninglessness to her disease because, though deeply personal to her, her disease is only a fading echo in a dark, cold, impersonal universe where everything dies, swallowed in the tsunami of massive, impersonal time and space. If the cancer is caused by no personal force, how can a personal God affect her, other than by providing some banal comfort or cold indifference?Root, Andrew. The Pastor in a Secular Age (Ministry in a Secular Age Book #2) (p. 56). Baker Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
Where we previously saw God reaching into our world and acting, now we only see the cold logic of natural law. It’s harder to blame God, but it’s also harder to expect anything from him.
Hopefully none of this feels like a glorification of the past and an utter rejection of our present world. Not at all! After all, I live here and there’s some pretty cool stuff to enjoy! It’s just a way of trying to explore why previous generations could easily see God acting in the world around them, and why we find it so hard. Their philosophy naturally emphasized the role of the divine, whereas ours emphasizes human action and natural law to a far greater degree. No wonder my friend’s language made me so nervous! God is doing things? Talking to people? Planning stuff? Eew. Gross. Please use more passive language for your God. It sounds ridiculous when you act like he exists.
What would it mean to imagine that God can talk over a bowl of cereal? That he wants something and that we’re capable of hearing it? More than that, that other people are capable of hearing God too, and he is acting in the world to make his will manifest?