Sunday, June 3, 2012

2012.06.03 God Grows and Grows: How I Learned the Trinity

I’d seen pictures of God in my favorite book The Little Book About God, published just two years before I was born by  Doubleday. God was an old man reclining on a cloud creating myriad wonders on earth below—His Earth. I was impressed by the Creation thing,  but what grabbed me by the scruff of my soul was God’s odd personality quirk—listening.  

God would sit for hours in a garden and listen to all the sounds of Earth, identifying and cataloguing every single sound, including “weeny sounds” like the soft weeping of a little girl, a sound so small it was “very hard to locate.”  But God found it. 

I had a difficult time when my grandmother moved into our small NewYork apartment with us and the dining room became the only place for her bed. She had bad ears. Mastoiditis they said. No wonder she had bad ears. I could see they were too long, hanging down all along her cheeks. I resented her ears. It was because of them that she needed care and moved in so my dining room table sanctuary moved out.  God, to me, lived under that table. Where would God live now? 

I sucked my thumb double time and raw and my pout deepened as I grieved my table and re-thunk God.  While I wondered I still talked to God who listened, table or no table.

That was how I learned that God must be intimately a part of my own spiritually charged imagination and didn’t dwell solely there any more than God dwelt under my table.

God got around. God lived nowhere and everywhere. God lived in me and in you, not just in Jesus like the church said. God was free.

My experience and the images it generated helped me digest what the church calls the Holy Trinity, whose Sunday it is today,  because it made God plural, deeply relational,  mobile and multiform, read, less patriarchal uber-MAN in the sky, and decidedly un-housable.