Futility comes to mind when beginning to think of an effective theology. Kohelet wrote that, “much talk leads to much futility” and yet “who knows what is good for humanity?” (Kohelet 6:11-12) For thousands of years we have been asking the same question, pushing the same boulder up the hill. Is there any attempt at describing the ineffable that could withstand all scrutiny? While there is a defeatist veneer to Ecclesiastes, there is something enticing about trying to pull the sword from the stone, to try and add just one more metaphor to the constellation of attempts at describing the ineffable.
There are three issues I feel must be included to produce an effective theology. These include nomenclature, science and teleology. Nomenclature is important in that a theology must be accessible through language. One must be able to relate to the metaphor in a way that resonates. Choosing a name for something that is, by its very nature both personal and ineffable, carries a high risk of unintended connotation, baggage, and severely limits the scope of the metaphor. Only through analogy is one able to begin to explain the depth of one’s theological metaphor. Science, or at least addressing the question of science, is a quintessential piece of an effective theology in the 21st century. The metaphysical and physical have a history of being at odds and a modern theologian must filter ones theology through a scientific lens as the laws of nature are as irrefutable as the Ineffable One is ineffable. The goal of this section is to find the intersection between the how of science and the gratitude and awe induced by the ineffable. Finally, the purpose of religion, and more pertinently theological discourse, in my opinion is the need to confront the inevitability of death. The discussion of death, as an idea, is essential to a strong theology as it is my opinion that death and the awareness of death is what creates the need for theology in the first place. I will argue that, without death or more accurately the awareness of death, there would be significantly less need for theology. I am hopeful that these three ideas—nomenclature, the intersection of science and theology, and the necessary role of death in theological discourse—will summate an effective, approachable theology.
Nomenclature— The question of deciding up on a name for the Ineffable One is an impossible task in itself. Perhaps this is, in part, why HaShem (the name) is a seemingly innocuous option as it seems neutral and without much of the gendered, political, historical baggage that many other names carry. The idea and process of naming something has serious implications. Two essential points regarding the implications of “naming” emerge from Rambam’s commentary on Genesis 2:20 where Adam gives names to the cattle, birds and beasts. Rambam points out that “the calling of names” implies a need to be eternally identified and that naming something implies an elevated status or responsibility for the named thing.[1] Applying a name to the ineffable is above our pay grade and is, at very least, presumptuous. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, in discussing the Ineffable Name, speaks to the mystery, discomfort and reverence in saying, “the true name is the Ineffable Name.”[2]
Naming the Ineffable One, is to limit the parameters within which a limitless being can exist; each name is abundantly inadequate. Having said that, there are, as far as I can tell, two instances in Torah where the Ineffable One provides a name beyond “I am ADONAI your El.” In Genesis 17:1, Abraham receives the name El Shaddai and in Exodus 3:14 Moses receives the name EHYEH ASHER EHYEH. While one could write entire dissertations about these two particular names for the Ineffable One, these two names provide context as to how the Ineffable One perhaps understands themselves. Each name for the Ineffable One throughout Jewish discourse (and there are many) have particular values, qualities and metaphors associated therein, which speak implicitly about the message behind the name choice. Perhaps El Shaddai, a name that is etymologically connected to the primal mammalian food source and, perhaps, translated as “God of That Which is Enough,” appeared to Abraham to remind Abraham of the promise of providing endless offspring, nurturing each generation until the thousandth. Perhaps EHYEH ASHER EHYEH, which translated literally means “I will be what I will be,” spoke to Moses because of the uncertainty that still lay ahead. Throughout text and liturgy we find various names and qualities of the Ineffable One to serve a metaphorical purpose for time and place, to invoke meaning and to attempt to provide clarity to an otherwise esoteric internal discourse. Therefore choosing a name for that which is truly ineffable, must be done with painstaking care as, through the name chosen, we reveal our innermost thoughts, observations and priorities and, in a profound way, tap into and act upon that which represents godliness.
Science & Theology—
In evolutionary biology there is an interesting idea aptly named the Spandrel Theory. The theory suggests that, as in a cathedral, there are structurally integral pillars and buttresses that support and allow for the evolution of all living things. In cathedrals there are spaces between these integral elements that provide space for artistic embellishment: the spandrel. The theory of evolution states, quite clearly that, “all species of organisms arise and develop through the natural selection of small, inherited variations that increase the individual's ability to compete, survive, and reproduce.”[3] Evolution, by its very nature, is a process with a goal in mind: to survive, persist and succeed. The spandrel theory, however, points out that a byproduct of these necessary survival methods leave space for certain evolutionary developments that seem to be embellishments. Does the peacock need those delicious plumes by which it is so easily identified? One could easily argue that such an evolutionary path is detrimental to the peacock’s efficacy as a bird, yet what a beautiful and successful bird it is!
When we consider our own evolutionary path, it would be easy to say that our belief in or perception of the divine is merely a product of various evolutionary traits such as agency detection or the capacity to care for another. However, cognitive anthropologists like Scott Atran believe that, “Religion ensues from the ordinary workings of the human mind as it deals with emotionally compelling problems of human existence, such as birth, aging, death, unforeseen calamities, and love.”[4] In Atran’s interpretation of evolution, he has diminished the spandrel to an after thought of evolution, while the opposite may just as reasonably be the case. It is therefore not completely unreasonable to understand the buttresses and spandrels of human evolution to be working in tandem with each other. What would the Sistine chapel be without the frescoes between its flying buttresses? In other words, what would existence be without awe?
The spandrel theory supports Dr. Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson’s work in the field of process theology highlighting the way in which the processes that are structurally integral to the progress of life also have the potential to redirect toward something truly awesome. By virtue of evolving and the process of becoming from the instant of creation to this very moment, we have discovered divinely inspired tools in order to interact with and discover that which is already part of our nature. In his essay Ba’Derekh, Artson states that the cosmos is both “self-created and self-creating.”[5] To be created in the Divine Image, is to be both of the system and have the capacity to perpetuate the system. The Ineffable One is represented in the existence and functionality of DNA, which emerged from the apparent chaos of the formation of the universe and has developed the capacity to create new life and we are responsible for providing the optimal circumstances for said life to thrive! Is this, reality, not as miraculous or even more miraculous than the parting of the Sea of Reeds? The ability to explain something through science should not detract from our appreciation and astonishment with existence. Science provides us the tools to recognize the beauty and the sheer awe-inspiring magnitude of the process.
The Jewish conversation, is but one continuation of the same cosmic conversation from Chaos to Order. Moses received the instruction at the mountain and we entered into a covenant as a people to discuss, with each other and with the Ineffable One, about what ideals we should strive for. The Ineffable One, in tandem with us, has set up the framework for a relationship that we might realize our own potential, as individuals, as a global community and as a cosmic community that might be continually realized over the course of time and space. The nature of that relationship, as Dr. Artson proclaims, is through Love, Justice, Compassion and Experience. On a cosmic level, this is the story of chaos to order, but on an approachable level, this is the story of how we arrived at this very moment; encouraging us to see ourselves at the precipice, and responsible for what comes next. We are privileged to stand on the sturdy shoulders of the ones who came before us and we are imbued with the responsibility to continue the work toward order through mercy and justice such that this chain will not bend or break. This idea calls for a reimagining of the idea of mi dor l’dor, from generation to generation, whereby we might consider each fundamental decision that brought us to this moment as a generational step. No longer is my genealogy from Abraham to my son Daniel, but rather from the beginning of the cosmos until today.
Death—
I believe our painful awareness of death is at the core of what makes us human. Some have postulated that language or art is what sets humanity apart from other animals and some might say this difference is in our ability to produce philosophy or music or religion. I believe each of these suggestions are actually symptoms of one reality: the fact that we are, unlike other animals, cognizant of our impending, inevitable death and that this sapience is the driving force of our creativity—our ability to notice, appreciate and wonder about the origin of things. After five years of rabbinical school and a mere thirty two years of life, I believe that that the central tenets of Judaism are to simultaneously preserve and elevate life, to learn how to die, and to live a death-inspired life.
Wrestling with the notion of the various metaphors surrounding “God” in a post-Holocaust Judaism, Richard L. Rubenstein asserts that God is the, “infinite measure against which we can see our own limited lives in proper perspective.”[6] This conception of God urges one to put the finitude of life into immediate perspective. The question, then, is how do we interact with this existential realization. Rubenstein offers several helpful suggestions. He states that we must acknowledge the reality that our time is so limited and I would add that we must acknowledge this fact often as opposed to sequestering existential dread to Yom Kippur alone. Rubenstein also argues that we must learn to live in our bodies. Acknowledging the seasons of our lives, the body’s capacities and limitations, and the reality that we will return to the nothingness from whence we came. The maxim “know thyself” is the bumpers-sticker version of this idea, where the purpose of life is self-discovery, pleasure, and happiness in the Aristotelean sense.
When we become aware of our inevitable death, however hidden that day might be, we must allow ourselves to be driven to create a legacy and a good name. While Rubenstein argues that there is no viable afterlife, I believe that memory serves as the functional afterlife. Therefore, we must ask ourselves in life, how do we want to be remembered? The fear of death is certainly real, but which fear is greater: the fear of death or the fear of being forgotten, or worse to be remembered poorly? Kohelet teaches us that, “the race does not go to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, the bread to the wise nor wealth to the intelligent, nor favor to those who study, rather time and mischance happen to us all.”[7] For Rubenstein, the Ineffable One is the ground, the place where all life finds itself interred. If one is able to turn fear into awe, to turn indecision into drive, to turn thought into action this, as I stated in the introduction, is the true meaning of what it means to live a life inspired by death.
While the exercise of determining a theology is a futile exercise in that there is no concrete certainty or conclusiveness to the work, the process of discussing Ineffable One is a worthwhile discourse. By writing and sharing theologies, we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and share our insights into the way in which we understand the role of divinity in the world. It is my hope that over the previous several pages that I have expressed a perspective on divinity that is both reasonable and accessible.
Works Cited:
Artson, Bradley Shavit. “Ba-Derekh: On the Way--A Presentation of Process Theology.” http://www.newcaje.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/BA-Derekh-On-the-Way-A-presentation-of-Process-Theology-by-Rabbi-Bradley-Shavit-Artson.pdf
Heschel, A. J. (1983). God in Search of Man: A Philosophy of Judaism. New York, New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
Lent, J. (2010, November 28). “Religion as a Spandrel.” Retrieved April 25, 2021, from https://jeremylent.wordpress.com/2010/11/12/religion-as-a-spandrel/
Rubenstein, R. L. (2020). After Auschwitz: Radical Theology and Contemporary Judaism. In 1345178810 985596172 D. Ellenson (Ed.), American Jewish Thought Since 1934: Writings on Identity, Engagement, and Belief (pp. 15-17). Waltham, Massachusetts: Brandeis University Press.
Tanakh: JPS Hebrew-English Tanakh. (2000). Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society.
Footnotes: [1] Rambam on Genesis 2:20. [2] God in Search of Man, 64. [3] Lent, 1. [4] Ibid. [5] Artson, 8. [6] Ellenson, Marmur, 15. [7] Kohelet 9:11
Comments