I thought of this after reading Trudy's recent post. Dad shared it with us earlier in November. I am not sure of the connection, but wanted to share.
Jesus is always a baby at Christmas. And God is a parent. When I was young, "father" language for God always communicated something about my relation with God---one of love, hopefully, but also of dependence, deference to the larger and wiser.
Not until I became a parent did it come to me that this language was not only saying how it looked from my end. Suddenly I thought not of the stature of a parent looming above me, but of the helpless fear with which I watched our toddler daughter begin walking and falling, knowing I must not hold her back and feeling sick with the possibilities. It dawned on me that to call God father or mother was to attribute that sort of seasick vulnerability. It was not just to bow down but to cry out with shocked empathy.
How can God stand it? We have only a few children to keep out of the traffic and sometimes just the thought is enough to stop your heart. We see the infant in the manger and shiver for him to be warmed; hear the soldiers in the street and squirm for his safety.
This is the primary "authority" we receive as parents, the power to be endlessly delighted and wounded by love, hostage to our little ones' good. A parental name for God announces that authority expanded beyond measure, awesome, terrible.
S. Mark Heim
Samuel Abbot Professor of Christian Theology
Andover Newton Faculty
Jesus is always a baby at Christmas. And God is a parent. When I was young, "father" language for God always communicated something about my relation with God---one of love, hopefully, but also of dependence, deference to the larger and wiser.
Not until I became a parent did it come to me that this language was not only saying how it looked from my end. Suddenly I thought not of the stature of a parent looming above me, but of the helpless fear with which I watched our toddler daughter begin walking and falling, knowing I must not hold her back and feeling sick with the possibilities. It dawned on me that to call God father or mother was to attribute that sort of seasick vulnerability. It was not just to bow down but to cry out with shocked empathy.
How can God stand it? We have only a few children to keep out of the traffic and sometimes just the thought is enough to stop your heart. We see the infant in the manger and shiver for him to be warmed; hear the soldiers in the street and squirm for his safety.
This is the primary "authority" we receive as parents, the power to be endlessly delighted and wounded by love, hostage to our little ones' good. A parental name for God announces that authority expanded beyond measure, awesome, terrible.
S. Mark Heim
Samuel Abbot Professor of Christian Theology
Andover Newton Faculty
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