Back to the Future I

"Where is the line between the lens that protects us from being destroyed by looking directly at the face of God, vs the lens that might have its own picture that draws us away or into idolatry?"

Today has been a long day, dearest reader. I hope this week went well for you, and that this weekend will be good to you. I will need your prayers in the coming weeks, if you are able.

Yesterday I was in one of my prof's offices and admiring their bookshelves while they stepped out (I promised I wouldn't touch). I felt the books were particularly-well curated, when my eyes wandered to a section that I won't name only because I don't want to be accidentally offensive, but the first thing that came to mind was "how could there possibly be a need to have so many books on that one topic?" And since it was a topic that I have yet to read about on my own, I couldn't answer the question. What it did make me think this morning, though, is about how expansive so many strands of study of scripture are, and how... human we are, when it comes to transmitting information in ways that are both intelligible to those who are not ourselves, but also correct enough to not have to be stated again in a different way... or in twenty years, or something. 

This idea of our frailty, however, in this form, is useful for understanding a bit about the lenses we use, though... insofar as I think it speaks to their presence, whether we like it or not. We all look through lenses of experience, culture, precedent, etc. in ways that can either expand or limit our perceptions, and our ability to share information with each other. But God doesn't need those things. God can speak to us despite what time, place, or language we speak. God can teach us whatever He wants in His time, and if our hearts are open, we might be able to expedite the process as far as not getting in our own way as much... maybe. But what God cannot do, or rather, will not do, is show Himself to us fully, because we simply can't handle it. And so even if we let go of our icons, our idols, or anything else on a desert mountain except us and the dark, God still comes through a filter. A veil. And how thin that veil is we really cannot know. 

Considering that the Spirit dwells in us, and is an intermediary, it doesn't seem entirely necessary, nor advisable, to create any further idols like one does in a pagan context. And indeed, doing so does put us at risk of idolizing those forms we make.  

And yet, we are human, and because a portrait of the suffering Christ may be a trap, or a window through which God's light and beauty may be made visible to us in its increased tangibility, I think that the answer lies in the human heart rather than the object itself. It's almost similar, in my mind, to the arguments about gun possession-- some people say it's a tool, and that it is the hand that uses is that is the danger. I don't argue with this. However, because people are people, the intentions of the human heart can be far more of a problem than we'd hoped. Also, guns are designed to kill things. You either choose to shoot, or you don't. Just like with any free will, we choose God, or we don't. But the thing about icons, stories, and other very evocative windows into beauty and understanding, in my opinion, is that they were also made for that particular purpose. And so... if someone idolizes them in a way that somehow turns their face to God, albeit maybe incompletely, or improperly.... are there worse things? Could even this worst-case scenario be considered a stepping stone, perhaps?

Of course this isn't really a worst-case scenario, because as we all know, Christianity doesn't lend itself to isolated individual experiences. Idolatry, no matter how accidental, can have sweeping consequences when combined with earthly power, influence, and corruption. 

And so... the answer? I think that.... the answer is somewhere in the question of intent. Awareness. Personal diligence, with the risks and benefits weighed as best we can. Some things don't come with tidy answers, and I am slightly disappointed but... I think this is one of them. Discernment is a gift. Wisdom is a gift. If everything were cut and dry then... they wouldn't really be necessary, and God's love and Spirit would not be paramount over human law and the universe's logic. 

Perhaps the veil between us and God, and this discernment process, is not only a path to honing our discernment skills further, so that the gap between us and God's kingdom can get thinner as we mature spiritually, as far as we can bear, but also a sort of gift we might take for granted in the meantime-- a compass of wonder, that does not ask anything of us, except love and a desire to be closer.