Grist for the Grinder

Friday, Jul. 29, 2016

Pursuing the path of knowledge of God has led me far from his friendship.

This is the exact opposite of what I meant to do – I started taking theology classes to deepen my relationship with God, and the first week of the first class actually strengthened my resolve. That’s when I came across this quote by Frank Sheed: “Every new thing known about God is a new reason for loving him.”

That quote came from Sheed’s book “Theology and Sanity,” which is a great primer for anyone looking for a basic text in Catholic doctrine. Reading it and a couple of other texts for the beginning theology class, I felt like I was on the right path, learning about God and the Catholic faith. 

Then along came the requirement that I be able to define terms like dulia, hyperdulia and latria, at which point I complained to a local priest that only theologians would create words for the reverence given to the saints, to the Blessed Virgin Mary and to God. He replied that I should talk: What about onomatopoeia, assonance and alliteration, which any writer worth her salt would know and use appropriately?

I grudgingly agreed that every specialty has its jargon, and if you’re going to play in the field, you’d better learn the language. And it’s kind of cool to be able to drop terms like circumincession and eschatology, because it makes me feel like I’m on the inside with theologians. 

Which is where I wanted to be, until I realized that Jesus, even though he would have made a Levite par excellence, was always on the outside. He knew Jewish law better than the chief priests and scribes and Pharisees, and made fools of them when they challenged him, but instead of claiming a place for himself in their inner circle, Jesus went out to the tax collectors and sinners.

Unlike Jesus, I can’t quote the prophets of the Old Testament, (or recall pertinent verses of the New Testament, for that matter), so I do think it’s important to continue learning about my religion.

The problem is that I’m spending so much time reading and doing homework that I’m not being with God. I hardly ever go to daily Mass anymore, I don’t pray like I used to, and instead of seeking ways to be his hands in the world, I’ve got my nose in a book. 

I am reading the Bible, but only because I’m also taking a class on the Gospel of John. I’m learning a lot (who knew that people actually debate whether Jesus was referring to the sacrament of baptism during his meeting with Nicodemus?), but I really don’t think that knowing that Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well has nuptial overtones is pertinent to anything except being able to get that answer correct on a test.

On the other hand, being able to draw a correlation between the Samaritan woman and catechumens seeking to be received into the Church requires the ability to apply the book knowledge to real life.

Which is where the analogy of the writers’ terminology comes in handy. I don’t talk much about alliteration, but I know what it is and I know how to use it to good effect, even when my readers don’t recognize it. It’s probably the same with these theological facts I feel I’m just stuffing into my brain: At some point they will be ground into grist I can use to further my faith, and perhaps one day help deepen someone else’s belief as well.