The Fallacy of Misplaced Divinity
Confusing Winds of the Spirit with Ideas about God
Recently a good friend, a contemplative Christian, offered two criticisms of open and relational theology.
One is that we in the open and relational community are so persuaded by our concept of God that the concept becomes, unwittingly, a substitute for God. We become so interested in talking about God, debating various ideas about what God is or is not like, that we neglect or even forget the importance of being attuned to what he called "the winds of the Spirit." By winds of the Spirit, my friend had in mind a host of spiritual virtues: attention, compassion, connection, faith, forgiveness, gratitude, hospitality, imagination, justice, listening, nurturing, openness, playfulness, questing, reverence, and wonder, for example. From my friend's perspective, all of these are ways in which humans are nourished by the winds of the Spirit in non-verbal, non-doctrinal ways. In being so focused on ideas, we miss the winds. We fall into the fallacy of misplaced divinity.
A second is that, in our enthusiasm for the ideas, we become too evangelical. We try to sell our ideas of God, hoping others will buy them. (Often, along the way, we try to sell ourselves, too.) Ostensibly, we try to sell the ideas because we think the world would be a much better place if people believe as we believe. But it can seem to others that the real reason is that, if others agree with us, we will feel vindicated. We end up "waving the God flag" in the face of others, trying to convince them that they, too, ought to embrace an open and relational understanding of God. We fall into the arrogance of evangelical zeal.
I well recognize that some in the open and relational community will respond to these two criticisms defensively. We will say that that we believe in the importance of ideas and the winds of the Spirit, and that we hope our ideas help people trust in those winds. And we will say that we must market our ideas, because otherwise some very bad ideas will continue to reign in the popular imagination.
But it seems to me better if we listen for the truth of the criticisms and not be so defensive. There is a sense in which open and relational theology, or at least the particular kind I espouse, process theology, can fall into the trap of confusing ideas of God with the winds of the spirit, and that it can likewise become overbearing in its zeal for process theology. I cringe when I hear process theologians say that "process theology can save the world." I think only the winds can save us.
*
What has happened?
I think one thing that has happened is that, in our enthusiasm, God has become a focal object in our imaginations. A focal object is something that draws and centers our attention, often embodying significant meaning or value. An example would be a family heirloom, such as a grandmother's wedding ring. The ring holds sentimental value, representing family history, continuity, and personal connection.
For many of us, the idea of an open and relational God is like this, except less tangible. It becomes a perpetual frame of reference. There is something natural and inevitable about God becoming a focal object in this way. Ideas, like physical objects, can center the imagination in healthy ways. However, three problems can emerge:
The problem is intensified when we mistakenly confuse the actuality of God with the "subject" of a sentence, as in: "God is disembodied," "God does not control events," or "God does not know the future in advance." It is easy to assume that such a subject is a bit like a material object in space that pre-exists whatever properties it might possess and whatever relations it might have to other actualities. We then render unto God that which belongs to grammatical subjects. We may say that God is "relational," but our reliance on declarative sentences, in which God is the subject, suggests that God somehow preexists the property (relationality) we attach to God.
*
To avoid the problem of solidifying God, here are some approaches:
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Still there is the problem of salesmanship, of flag-waving. The open and relational movement is evangelical in its spirit. Perhaps this is partly because so many of its enthusiasts come from evangelical Christian backgrounds. They - we - bring a spirit of evangelical zeal to our newfound way. It can seem to others that we want to convert the world to our way of thinking. There is an arrogance in this, and a stupidity. We neglect the fact that the winds of the Spirit transcend our ideologies and theologies.
What to do?
I know that we will continue to wave our flags. I myself am a process flag-waver. But we can wave our flags more gently, and with less arrogance, if we consistently remember that God is always more than our idea of God, that the living Spirit of God at work in the world is not an idea in the mind, and this Spirit of God is at work in the world quite independently of our theology. It can also help to embrace a more contemplative form of open and relational theology, recognizing that the openness of God is not simply a lure within the cosmos and our own lives, but also a deep listening, a spacious empathy, in which all living beings are already embraced, in love. The more we understand this listening, the more we will realize that, in many contexts, there is no need to wave a flag. The need instead is to put down all flags, including the God flag. The winds of the Spirit do not need our proclamations. They blow freely.
Recall the saying of Jesus: "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." The more we consider the lilies, the less we need to wave our flags. We will know that sometimes, maybe many times, the winds of the Spirit are already blowing, and that all we need do is turn our cheek in their direction, feel their caress, and help others do the same.
- Jay McDaniel
One is that we in the open and relational community are so persuaded by our concept of God that the concept becomes, unwittingly, a substitute for God. We become so interested in talking about God, debating various ideas about what God is or is not like, that we neglect or even forget the importance of being attuned to what he called "the winds of the Spirit." By winds of the Spirit, my friend had in mind a host of spiritual virtues: attention, compassion, connection, faith, forgiveness, gratitude, hospitality, imagination, justice, listening, nurturing, openness, playfulness, questing, reverence, and wonder, for example. From my friend's perspective, all of these are ways in which humans are nourished by the winds of the Spirit in non-verbal, non-doctrinal ways. In being so focused on ideas, we miss the winds. We fall into the fallacy of misplaced divinity.
A second is that, in our enthusiasm for the ideas, we become too evangelical. We try to sell our ideas of God, hoping others will buy them. (Often, along the way, we try to sell ourselves, too.) Ostensibly, we try to sell the ideas because we think the world would be a much better place if people believe as we believe. But it can seem to others that the real reason is that, if others agree with us, we will feel vindicated. We end up "waving the God flag" in the face of others, trying to convince them that they, too, ought to embrace an open and relational understanding of God. We fall into the arrogance of evangelical zeal.
I well recognize that some in the open and relational community will respond to these two criticisms defensively. We will say that that we believe in the importance of ideas and the winds of the Spirit, and that we hope our ideas help people trust in those winds. And we will say that we must market our ideas, because otherwise some very bad ideas will continue to reign in the popular imagination.
But it seems to me better if we listen for the truth of the criticisms and not be so defensive. There is a sense in which open and relational theology, or at least the particular kind I espouse, process theology, can fall into the trap of confusing ideas of God with the winds of the spirit, and that it can likewise become overbearing in its zeal for process theology. I cringe when I hear process theologians say that "process theology can save the world." I think only the winds can save us.
*
What has happened?
I think one thing that has happened is that, in our enthusiasm, God has become a focal object in our imaginations. A focal object is something that draws and centers our attention, often embodying significant meaning or value. An example would be a family heirloom, such as a grandmother's wedding ring. The ring holds sentimental value, representing family history, continuity, and personal connection.
For many of us, the idea of an open and relational God is like this, except less tangible. It becomes a perpetual frame of reference. There is something natural and inevitable about God becoming a focal object in this way. Ideas, like physical objects, can center the imagination in healthy ways. However, three problems can emerge:
- The idea of God becomes overly fixed in the imagination, becoming psychologically solidified.
- The idea of God is confused with the real thing. We forget that God is always more than, and perhaps quite different from, the idea of God we have in our minds.
- The idea of God, as a constant topic of discussion, can ironically divert our attention from what is perhaps most important to God: embodying the spirit of open and relational love in our lives.
The problem is intensified when we mistakenly confuse the actuality of God with the "subject" of a sentence, as in: "God is disembodied," "God does not control events," or "God does not know the future in advance." It is easy to assume that such a subject is a bit like a material object in space that pre-exists whatever properties it might possess and whatever relations it might have to other actualities. We then render unto God that which belongs to grammatical subjects. We may say that God is "relational," but our reliance on declarative sentences, in which God is the subject, suggests that God somehow preexists the property (relationality) we attach to God.
*
To avoid the problem of solidifying God, here are some approaches:
- Relational Focus: Shift the focus from defining God in terms of abstract properties to experiencing God through relationships and actions. Encourage practices that embody open and relational love, such as community service, compassion, and justice. This helps ground theological concepts in lived experiences and reduces the risk of God becoming merely an idea in the mind.
- Narrative and Metaphor: Use narrative and metaphor to describe God in ways that are more fluid and less prone to solidification. Stories and metaphors can capture the dynamic and relational aspects of God more effectively than rigid doctrinal statements.
- Embodied Practices: Integrate embodied spiritual practices such as meditation, prayer, and communal rituals. Include activities like gardening, hiking, artistic creativity, and volunteering. These practices can help us experience the divine in ways that go beyond intellectual concepts, fostering a more holistic and relational spirituality.
- Ethical Emphasis: Prioritize ethical living and the practical implications of theological beliefs. Emphasize that theology should lead to actions that promote love, justice, and peace, thus preventing theology from becoming an end in itself.
*
Still there is the problem of salesmanship, of flag-waving. The open and relational movement is evangelical in its spirit. Perhaps this is partly because so many of its enthusiasts come from evangelical Christian backgrounds. They - we - bring a spirit of evangelical zeal to our newfound way. It can seem to others that we want to convert the world to our way of thinking. There is an arrogance in this, and a stupidity. We neglect the fact that the winds of the Spirit transcend our ideologies and theologies.
What to do?
I know that we will continue to wave our flags. I myself am a process flag-waver. But we can wave our flags more gently, and with less arrogance, if we consistently remember that God is always more than our idea of God, that the living Spirit of God at work in the world is not an idea in the mind, and this Spirit of God is at work in the world quite independently of our theology. It can also help to embrace a more contemplative form of open and relational theology, recognizing that the openness of God is not simply a lure within the cosmos and our own lives, but also a deep listening, a spacious empathy, in which all living beings are already embraced, in love. The more we understand this listening, the more we will realize that, in many contexts, there is no need to wave a flag. The need instead is to put down all flags, including the God flag. The winds of the Spirit do not need our proclamations. They blow freely.
Recall the saying of Jesus: "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." The more we consider the lilies, the less we need to wave our flags. We will know that sometimes, maybe many times, the winds of the Spirit are already blowing, and that all we need do is turn our cheek in their direction, feel their caress, and help others do the same.
- Jay McDaniel