For some time I have been struggling in my spiritual life with how to call out to the Infinite Holy One. For me the term God has not evoked a male presence, but it is not an intimate enough term for me in prayer, for heart-to-heart discourse. For years my prayers had begun "Dear Lord", and for many recent years I've tried to tell myself that while that term historically refereed to the adult, male owner of the manor, it wasn't a male term. I told myself it was a term for grandeur, vastness, and powerfulness. But i had to admit to myself that an above me/below me quality and a "taskmaster" quality were sneaking into my intimate Divine relationship. This was not how I really thought the Nurturer is. So aware also that some of my sisters find the term God alienating when used in verbal ministry, I set out to seek a new name.
I wanted a name that I could call out to or speak of, that Ground of My Being, that would work in all instances. That is where I got stuck for several years. I tried out terms like Goddess, Creator, Comforter, etc. Nothing felt right. Goddess just put a different gender on a Being I find genderless. Creator wasn't the one I could pray to in grief. Comforter is not the One who made the Universe... and it went on and one. My whole prayer life seemed adrift. I was trying to change how I prayed to reflect more my feeling of calling on the Inner Light and the Outer Light to move in concert in my life. But how does one form a prayer without words?
Finally, in one of those divine ironies where one gives in order to get, I was leading a workshop on personal theology at the Friends General Conference Gathering and the answer was opened to me. The workshop was on theologies we construct for ourselves, and I had invited people that morning in small groups to look at how they conceptualized and called out to the Divine. As I visited the groups and as they reported back to the large group, I again heard the familiar struggle. Many names were put forth: Yahweh, the Light, God, Ground of my Being, Goddess, Abba, etc. But either the speaker or the listeners always expressed frustration with the terms. Nothing was ultimately the right fit.
Then we went into silent worship. The quite bouncy, joyful music of a Cris Williamson song ("Song of the Soul") came into my head. I heard two fragments of lines: "Love of my Life, I'm.." and "Spirit Divine." For the first time ever, I realized that the first line referred not to a human lover, but to the Ultimate Lover. As I thought about what beautiful phrases both were for the Dancer of my Heart, suddenly all the other names I'd heard that day came spilling in, sung to the same melody, and I saw a lovely patchwork with the many names of the Unnameable One. In a flash, I realized that the difficulty of my task had been its impossibility. I remembered only then that the ancient Hebrews had a name which meant: "that which I refer to in order to refer to that which in unnameable." They recognized the egotism and impossibility (and sin?) of trying to reduce to a mere word the name of the Infinite One. The impossibility of our finite consciousness trying to embrace both eternal, infinite, and mysterious! I had to laugh at myself because I'd been trying to carry out this same impossible task.
But what joy! What liberation to realize I was free to use any name, to use all the names. Suddenly the whole vastness and powerfulness of the Infinite Horizon seemed to wash over me, no longer blocked off by worlds that limited or confined by relationship to and experience of the Divine. I felt the multi-level connectedness to My Mother that I had sought so long in "the right name". As I lived the next minutes, hours, days and years with this new insight, several other things have became apparent to me. One is that I use the name God when my head is talking about Spirit. I use it when I am reducing the Infinite to a concept, or when I wish to communicate to another by a familiar and acceptable term. It is a term I sue when I'm in my head, not when I am in the Presence.
The other side of that is if I listen in my soul, if I listen to "the Still Small Voice Within", then the name I will call will be my immediate and genuine experience of Spirit this moment of my existence. Such practice makes my prayer life far more powerful and makes my vocal ministry evocative. I now have a much deeper understanding of my the journals of early Friends are full of such phrases for the One who Covers Us since they worshipped in a Living Presence who was the programmer of every Meeting. When I first read Thomas Kelly's Testament of Devotion, I loved the phrases he uses such as "the Hound of Heaven," which he uses throughout his book. But I thought of them as marks of good writing, not as ways to call out to the Maker.
I now see them as guideposts for all of us of the intimacy possible with the Author of Living, when we seek to know Spirit minute by minute. What came to me in worship felt like a genuine opening, a glimpse of Truth that my mind did not figure out, but was revealed to me as a gift of grace. I am aware of the battle that rages in many Meeting houses over God language. In this battle many feel oppressed and disregard, others feel the Most Sacred is attacked and denigrated. Each side reels their most personal experience of the Parent is devalued. I offer, most humbly, that perhaps in my opining as an answer for us as a Society of Friends: that we will not find consensus on a "right name", that we cannot argue each other into compliance or a new or old orthodoxy of semantics.
All of the names we call are correct and spirit filled. But if we embrace this as an answer, it must be one of the highest common denominator, not other lowest. By this I mean that all parties not simply "accept" the names others call their Beloved , and not routinely continue to use the same name they have sued for years. Instead, let all of listen to the Still Small Voice to know by what name we will call out at this moment, and that we hear the Divine Whisperer in each message given at Meeting. I wish to share with others the infinite richness I have found in such worship.
This article is reprinted from Friends Journal June 1994
