Rediscovering the Sensuous Language of Biblical Encounter
Despite the ban on images found in Exodus 20:2‑5, the Tanakh contains a wealth of metaphors depicting the anthropomorphic nature of God. Unlike the ancient Greek philosophers and poets, the ancients of Judea did not perceive God as a philosophical construct, nor as a static timeless being, nor as an impersonal cosmic process, energy, force or intelligence and not as a sentimentalized ethical ideal, nor did they apologize for using human language in describing God. There was nothing epistemic or dogmatic about their faith. The biblical writers never hesitates utilizing human language whenever depicting the mystery and presence of the Divine. The human drama means something to the Heart of the Divine—even despite humankind’s conscious rejection of Him. God is paradoxically bound up to human history—and even limits His freedom in how He interacts with it (cf. Gen. 6:6).
When the ancient psalmists gazed into the heavens, they did not behold an endless abyss of cosmic nothingness; rather, they beheld a God with whom they could audaciously and personally address as “You.” All these sundry personal pronouns and anthropomorphic metaphors serve to convey something profound about the mystery of God’s Presence and closeness to the world, without which God could not be known. Martin Buber notes that in addition, anthropomorphic language reflects:
Our need to preserve the concrete quality is evidenced in the encounter. . . .It is in the encounter itself that we are confronted with something compellingly anthropomorphic, something demanding reciprocity, a primary Thou. This is true of those moments of our daily life in which we become aware of the reality that is absolutely independent of us, whether it be as power or as glory, no less than of the hours of great revelation of which only a halting record has been handed down to us.
This same idea runs like a current throughout the literature of the Psalms. In keeping with his ancestors’ religious experience, the psalmist never tires of exclaiming how the God Who creates the heavens and the earth, is still very much still accessible to the prayers of the most ordinary human being. Clearly, “God is close to all who call upon Him, all who call upon Him in truth.” Theologian Leonardo Boff cuts through the chase and remarks, “The psalms reveal the consciousness of this divine proximity.” The visceral language of the Psalms accentuates this closeness, “Praise the LORD, my soul all my inmost being, and praise his holy name (Psa. 103:1). From the innermost depths of one’s physical being, one can encounter God’s Presence and Being.
God’s accessibility paradoxically defies the human effort or tendency to want to localize the Creator. Although the Temple occupied a central place in the life of the ancient Israelites, the psalmist delights in knowing that God’s Presence is not at all limited to just the spatial confines of the Sanctuary. Young King Solomon understood the paradox of God’s Presence and exclaimed:
“Can it indeed be that God dwells among men on earth? If the heavens and the highest heavens cannot contain you, how much less this temple which I have built! Look kindly on the prayer and petition of your servant, O LORD, my God, and listen to the cry of supplication which I, your servant, utter before you this day.
1 Kgs. 8:27-28
Biblical personalism is thus the bedrock of Israel’s spirituality. First and foremost, God communicates with mortals; Creation itself exists only because God desires to enter into a relationship with its life-forms and inhabitants. Ancient biblical story-tellers asserted that the God of Israel is a “Living God,” who loves and is literally in search of humanity—endowed with personality and sentience. YHWH is transcendent (Wholly Other), yet wholly immanent and related to the world—He is the supreme God of encounter. The Scripture’s use of anthropomorphic language conveys the reality of God’s Presence in the lives of its believers. When viewed from this perspective, the Scriptures bears witness to Divine/Human encounters that have move people to speech. The psalmist feels a special intimacy with God and speaks of God belonging to him. Note the kind of personal pronouns found in the Scriptures: “He is my Rock,” (2 Sam. 22:2-3); “my Shepherd,” (Psa. 23:1); “my Light,” (Psa. 27:1); “my Love,” (Song. 1:9), and so on. Biblical metaphors about God boldly exemplify familiarity and intimacy bearing witness to the personhood of God. Within the limits of human language, our ancestors expressed the inexpressible imaginatively and metaphorically. One would never find such bold audacity of speak of God in such personal terms in the writings of Plato or Aristotle.
One of the most spirited defenses of anthropomorphism comes from the theologian Ludwig Köhler, who concludes:
One realizes at this point the function of the anthropomorphisms. Their intention is not in the least to reduce God to a rank similar to that of man. To describe God in terms of human characteristics is not to humanize him. That has never happened except in unreasonable polemic. Rather the purpose of anthropomorphisms is to make God accessible to man. They hold open the door for encounter and controversy between God’s will and man’s will. They represent God as person. They avoid the error of presenting God as a careless and soulless abstract Idea or a fixed Principle standing over against man like a strong silent battlement. God is personal. He has a will, he exists in controversy ready to communicate himself, offended at men’s sins yet with a ready ear for their supplication and compassion for their confessions of guilt: in a word, God is a living God. Through the anthropomorphisms of the Old Testament God stands before man as the personal and living God, who meets him with will and with works, who directs his will and his words towards men and draws near to men. God is the living God (Jer. 10:10).
The Scriptures describe the Presence of the Divine in tangible human‑like terms. Divine encounters with mortals are frequently depicted in graphic and physical detail. For the ancients, God is not only experienced with their minds, but also with their physical senses. To the Israelites who crossed the Sea of Reeds, God appears like a “Mighty man of war” (Exod. 15:3). The Torah’s depiction of “God’s glory” mesmerizes and dazzles the attention of the observer and witness. To the Israelite standing at Sinai, YHWH is not a philosophical abstraction, but a compelling reality. Therefore, whenever the Tanakh speaks of God’s glory, it always connotes the intensification and concentration of God’s Presence. Rudolf Otto identifies this phenomenon in his classic, The Idea of the Holy, which he describes as the numinous. What words can possibly express such an experience? According to Otto, words like, “awe,” “terror,” “dread,” “mystery,” “mystical,” “fascination,” “astonishment,” and “wonderment” convey a glimpse of this close encounter. An experience of the numinous leaves one in a state of humility. Thus when Jerusalem was destroyed, God’s numinous Presence (Kavod) was in a state of exile. Yearning for return of the Divine Presence, like the deer yearns for water in a parched land, the Psalmist experienced God not as an “It,” but as the “Eternal You.” Martin Buber points out in his classic I and Thou:
Men have addressed their eternal You by many names. When they sang of what they had thus named, they still meant You: the first myths were hymns of praise. Then the names entered into the It‑language; men felt impelled more and more to think of and to talk about the Eternal You as an It. But all names of God remained hallowed ‑ because they had been used not only to speak of God but also speak to Him (emphasis added).
Martin Buber, Studies in the Relation between Religion and Philosophy (Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press, 1988, c. 1952), 14‑15.
“The glory of the LORD settled on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it for six days; on the seventh day he called to Moses out of the cloud. Now the appearance of the glory of the LORD was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel” (cf. Exod. 24:16‑17).
Martin Buber, I and Thou, tr. Walter Kaufmann. (New York: Scribners,1970), 123.