Perhaps a year ago, as I was gearing up for my second experience of the Jewish High Holy Days, my dear friend (and then coworker), Noach, told me a story about himself. He had once been asked to write out his theology, and that act turned out to be performatively transformational. Now I'm being asked to write out mine, and I hesitate. To flesh out one's theology without trying to fit a previously cast theological mold is also, almost inevitably, to break that previous mold.
The trouble, in my case, is that the breaking wouldn't be--couldn't be--haphazard or accidental. I know too much. I've learned too much. I know the bounds of the theology with which I grew up. I also know intimately the bounds of my own the( )logy. And to write out the latter is indeed to explode the former, because the former just isn't enough to hold the latter. The former does not suffice.
I could stop right there, but it wouldn't be honest or transparent. I've had enough theological half-truthing to last me an eternity.
So here it is:
First, as for absolute truth: absolute truth according to whom? Absolutes are still relative to the individuals or groups claiming them. I do not make any claims to bear any absolute truths. I can attest to what resonates truly in my extremely limited experience, and share (with permission) the stories of the experiences of others. Limited though it is, my experience is what I have, shaped and informed by the communities of which I've been part. As I experience more, I perceive more.
Allow me to give an example. Since my baptism at six weeks of age, I have been Roman Catholic. For thirty years, I have attended Mass. For thirty years, I have had reinforced in me the claim that women have not been, are not now, and never can be validly ordained ministers. That absolute truth, taught by the Roman Catholic hierarchy, has been drilled into my mind and memory by the absolute absence of ordained women presiding at Roman Catholic liturgies.
But, you see, I have worked at a Jewish Renewal synagogue for the last two years. And in the last two years, I have served as the assistant for an extremely competent rabbi. An ordained Jewish minister. A woman. This absolute truth that the Roman Catholic hierarchy claims--that women have not been/are not/cannot be ordained ministers--is absurd when looked at from the context of my Jewish Renewal Community.
As well it should be.
My the( )logy starts with the feminine. Not with the planting of absolute truth seeds into the fertile soil of uninformed, unknowing wombs, but with the enveloping, intelligent, wise embrace of shared, varied experience. Absolutism implies uniformity. I do not embrace the scarceness of uniformity in my the( )logy, but multiplicity and ongoing renewal. In my the( )logy, there is always more to learn. Contradictions in theological stances are not the end, but the beginning--the beginning of beholding a brilliant new thing being done. It is the opening of opportunity to set aside irreconcilable ideas and share in practices of reconciliation.
My the( )logy is big enough to hold all ideas and experiences. My the( )logy not only holds every image of G( )d, but every dismissal of G( )d. My the( )logy does not insist once and for all; my the( )logy humbly invites, again and again.
My the( )logy holds primary the value of that which lives and offers life. My the( )logy values all creatures, animate and inanimate, as equal bearers of the divine spark.
My the( )logy seeks beyond itself, rather than relying on being found.
My the( )logy is deeply personal. My most intimate images of the divine are feminine, for it is She who I've so long been taught to ignore with whom I so deeply identify. I also embrace the divine He, the Divine Trans, the Divine Unity, the Divine Binary, the Divine Trinity, and the Divine Nothing.
My the( )logy is completely kataphatic and completely apophatic.
My the( )logy is Roman Catholic, and more; Jewish, and more; Buddhist, and more; agnostic, and more, and more, and more...
My the( )logy is an ampersand, a comma, an unfinished sentence,
♥
The trouble, in my case, is that the breaking wouldn't be--couldn't be--haphazard or accidental. I know too much. I've learned too much. I know the bounds of the theology with which I grew up. I also know intimately the bounds of my own the( )logy. And to write out the latter is indeed to explode the former, because the former just isn't enough to hold the latter. The former does not suffice.
I could stop right there, but it wouldn't be honest or transparent. I've had enough theological half-truthing to last me an eternity.
So here it is:
First, as for absolute truth: absolute truth according to whom? Absolutes are still relative to the individuals or groups claiming them. I do not make any claims to bear any absolute truths. I can attest to what resonates truly in my extremely limited experience, and share (with permission) the stories of the experiences of others. Limited though it is, my experience is what I have, shaped and informed by the communities of which I've been part. As I experience more, I perceive more.
Allow me to give an example. Since my baptism at six weeks of age, I have been Roman Catholic. For thirty years, I have attended Mass. For thirty years, I have had reinforced in me the claim that women have not been, are not now, and never can be validly ordained ministers. That absolute truth, taught by the Roman Catholic hierarchy, has been drilled into my mind and memory by the absolute absence of ordained women presiding at Roman Catholic liturgies.
But, you see, I have worked at a Jewish Renewal synagogue for the last two years. And in the last two years, I have served as the assistant for an extremely competent rabbi. An ordained Jewish minister. A woman. This absolute truth that the Roman Catholic hierarchy claims--that women have not been/are not/cannot be ordained ministers--is absurd when looked at from the context of my Jewish Renewal Community.
As well it should be.
My the( )logy starts with the feminine. Not with the planting of absolute truth seeds into the fertile soil of uninformed, unknowing wombs, but with the enveloping, intelligent, wise embrace of shared, varied experience. Absolutism implies uniformity. I do not embrace the scarceness of uniformity in my the( )logy, but multiplicity and ongoing renewal. In my the( )logy, there is always more to learn. Contradictions in theological stances are not the end, but the beginning--the beginning of beholding a brilliant new thing being done. It is the opening of opportunity to set aside irreconcilable ideas and share in practices of reconciliation.
My the( )logy is big enough to hold all ideas and experiences. My the( )logy not only holds every image of G( )d, but every dismissal of G( )d. My the( )logy does not insist once and for all; my the( )logy humbly invites, again and again.
My the( )logy holds primary the value of that which lives and offers life. My the( )logy values all creatures, animate and inanimate, as equal bearers of the divine spark.
My the( )logy seeks beyond itself, rather than relying on being found.
My the( )logy is deeply personal. My most intimate images of the divine are feminine, for it is She who I've so long been taught to ignore with whom I so deeply identify. I also embrace the divine He, the Divine Trans, the Divine Unity, the Divine Binary, the Divine Trinity, and the Divine Nothing.
My the( )logy is completely kataphatic and completely apophatic.
My the( )logy is Roman Catholic, and more; Jewish, and more; Buddhist, and more; agnostic, and more, and more, and more...
My the( )logy is an ampersand, a comma, an unfinished sentence,
♥
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