The Hermit in the Dell

(This article appeared in Spiritual Life Magazine Spring 2009)

Michael Dodd

Arthur C. Clarke's "The Nine Billion Names of God" is the story of an Asian monastery where the monks believe that when the nine billion names of the Supreme Being have been written, the world will come to an end. After centuries of laboring to write every possible permutation of a specialized alphabet, they resort to a computer to generate the names. The technicians who install, program and oversee the computer realize that the end of the possible list of names is approaching, and they flee the monastery to avoid the panic that they anticipate will occur among the monks when they realize the futility of the task to which they and previous generations have sacrificed their lives. As the technicians are escaping, they calculate the moment when the last name will print out – and as they look back to see what happens to the monastery, they notice that, one by one, the stars overhead are winking out.

Behind this charming twist of a tale is the thought that there are an inconceivable number of names for the Supreme Being. Most of us will say there are many names for God, yet even thinking that the word "god" itself has a univocal meaning is an illusion. In some schools of Buddhism, for example, gods and goddesses change and die. Even within the Christian tradition, one often wonders if what one means by God is the same as what another believer, or even an entire group of believers, means. When I overhear some conversations among religious people, I have the sense that they are, as has been said of the English and Americans, a people divided by a common language.

In this article we will reflect on three questions:

First, restricting ourselves to the Abrahamic religions of Judaism, Christianity and Islam, what do we mean when we speak of the name of God?
Second, what are some of the difficulties associated with naming God?
Third, what do the names we give God tell us about ourselves?

What, then, do we mean when we speak of the name of God?

Among the Jews, with their radical reverence for the Holy One of Israel, the divine name of God is not spoken. Instead, one uses a circumlocution or a substitution. The most important name in Hebrew is called the Tetragrammaton, from the Greek for four-letter [word], usually written in the Roman alphabet as YHVH (or, to keep things as ambiguous as possible, YHWH or even JHVH). This is the unpronounceable name, to be spoken aloud only by the High Priest in the Temple. Its correct pronunciation is long forgotten, although various attempts to reconstruct it exist. One of these, Jehovah, is still surprisingly popular among certain Christians, although it is apparently based on an erroneous reading of the four consonants above with the insertion of the vowel signs for another divine title, Adonai. More familiar to many people today is Yahweh, a version for which there are some Christian witnesses. How early Christians were to have heard the correct pronunciation of a word only pronounced in solitude by the High Priest in the Temple of Jerusalem is unclear.

When a Jew would encounter the Tetragrammaton in reading the scriptures, he or she would pronounce the word Adonai, usually translated Lord, in place of the divine name. This custom made its way into many English versions of the scripture where the Tetragrammaton is replaced by the word LORD written in small capitals to distinguish it from those places where the word Adonai appeared in the text with its own proper meaning. In ordinary conversation, some Jews will refer to God as HaShem – the Name. (There is a humorous irony in that this is a way to avoid saying the name.) They sometimes write G-d in recognition of the holiness of the name, although only the Hebrew name is sacred.

Other names/titles of God from scripture are familiar. Most people who have taken courses in the Hebrew scriptures know that in parts of the first five books, God is sometimes referred to as Elohim (corresponding to the English word "god" or even "gods"), sometimes as YHVH. God is also called God Almighty (El Shaddai) or God Most High (El Elyon). Within the Jewish tradition, other names of God are Adonai Emet (Lord of Truth), Tzur Yisrael (Rock of Israel), Elohei Avrahan, Yitzchak v'Ya'acov (God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob), Avinu Malkeinu (Our Father, our King), Ro'eh Yisrael (Shepherd of Israel), Ha-Kadosh, Baruch Hu (The Holy One, Blessed be He) and Makom (which means “the place”, hence, the Omnipresent One) and among the Kabbalists, En Sof (Without End, or even Nothingness).

Abba, Aramaic for Father, Dear Father or even Daddy, seems to have been the way that Jesus addressed God, and it is a popular name for God among some of his followers. It implies intimacy and tenderness, and for that reason, some may feel it shows lack of due awe and reverence. Of course, references to God as father or by other masculine descriptions and terminology raise questions for some individuals and groups today. The issue of inclusive language in speaking of God is a significant one, and to insist on exclusively masculine gender-language when speaking of God does beg the question of why anyone would insist on this while at the same time claiming that God is beyond gender. Much ink has been spilled on that matter, and having no new light to shed on the discussion, I will try not to add any heat to it either

If all the Jewish and Christian options get your head spinning, consider that the Muslims have a devotion to the khuda, the ninety-nine revealed names of God. Someone familiar with the Catholic tradition of litanies in devotion to Mary would probably think of these not as names so much as titles that reflect a particular aspect of God. The list runs from Ar-Rahman, The Most Compassionate, Most Kind, Ar-Rahim, The Most Merciful, Al-Malik, The Master, The King, The Monarch, down to As-Sabur, The Most Patient, The Enduring. I have even heard of the related, contemplative belief that the one hundredth name of God is [silence]. The name we most commonly associate with Islam, of course, is Allah, which is simply the Arabic word for god.

Jewish reverence for the Name carried over into Christian reverence for the name of Jesus and the title-become-name, Christ. One finds an echo of this in the Acts of the Apostles where the apostles, having been ordered by the Sanhedrin not to speak again about the name of Jesus, “for their part left the Sanhedrin full of joy that they had been judged worthy of ill-treatment for the sake of the Name.” (Acts 5:41 New American Bible) Unlike their Jewish ancestors, Christians did not hesitate to use what they considered the holy name, Jesus; indeed they were encouraged to call upon it. Not long ago Catholic children were taught to bow their heads slightly whenever they pronounced or heard the Holy Name, Jesus. A parallel respect for the name of Mary, Mother of God, also appeared, as evidenced by the names of parishes, schools and colleges.

In Twelve Step programs such as Alcoholics Anonymous, people speak of a Higher Power, or of “God as we understand him” or “the God of my understanding.” This protocol was adopted so as to impose no particular faith tradition on members who might not find a traditional understanding of God or a particular denominational understanding comfortable. In meetings, one often hears someone say “my Higher Power, whom I choose to call God.” This allows them to speak of God in the way they would in their church community, for example, while acknowledging that this may not be the understanding of everyone present.

This can lead to humorous incidents. Some people, for reasons that remain obscure, fall into the shorthand of “my Higher Power, whom I choose God.” It seems to echo the words of Joshua, “As for me and my House, we will serve Yahweh.” (Joshua 24:15 Jerusalem Bible) Sometimes people turn the phrase into a bit of humor, which may not always be appreciated by everyone present: “My Higher Power, whom I choose to call collect.,” or “whom I choose to call only in emergencies.” A cautious person may refer to “the God of my misunderstanding.” Most confusing to newcomers may be those who go for real shorthand: “my HP.” One person said he thought people were talking about their Hewlett Packard for a while. It seemed much too technological, somehow.

Having looked at some of the names and titles by which we address and refer to God, we turn to our second question: what are some difficulties with naming God?

The third chapter of the Book of Exodus contains the account of Moses and his encounter at Horeb with “an angel of the LORD … as a fire blazing out from a bush.” (Exodus 3:2) A careful reading of this story reveals different layers of the story. What is probably the earliest version has Moses in conversation with the LORD. Later editors, uncomfortable with the idea that the transcendent Holy One should appear directly, had an angel of the Lord appear to Moses. References to the Divine Interlocutor shift back and forth from God [Elohim] to LORD [YHWH].

Moses, unwilling to respond to the call from God, begins to search about for reasons he cannot fulfill the task. One excuse is that he doesn’t know who this is that is talking to him.

“If I come to the Israelites and tell them that the God of their forefathers has sent me to them, and they ask me his name, what am I to say to them?”
“God answered, ‘I AM that I am. Tell them that I AM has sent you to them.’ He continued, ‘You are to tell the Israelites that it is the LORD, the God of their forefathers, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who has sent you to them. This is my name for ever; this is my title in every generation.’” (Cf. Exodus 3:13-15)

This name is at the root of the Tetragrammaton mentioned above. The translation quoted above of the name as I AM that I am appears in The Revised English Bible , and it is familiar but disputed. Because it is familiar, Biblical students often assume that this is the only correct translation and that they therefore understand the name: God is Who God Is. Other variations on the theme are I am who I will be, I bring into being all that is, I Am the One I Am, I AM the One I need to Become and so on.
The Old Testament is filled with conjectural etymologies for names of people and places. They are popular explanations, somewhat akin to speculation about the origin of the name Uncle Sam in America. In this latter case, it seems that soldiers in the War of 1812 jokingly identified barrels of meat stamped “U.S”. as having come from (Uncle) Sam Wilson, a New York meat supplier. In this case, there is a connection between Sam Wilson and the meat in the barrels, but the “U.S.” stamp had nothing to do with him. As it turned out, however, a 1961 resolution in Congress saluted Mr. Wilson as the “progenitor of America’s National symbol of Uncle Sam.”, thus enshrining this bit of folklore in the official documents of the United States. Thus does folk etymology become official truth.

It appears that many or even most of those who seek to explain the meaning of the Tetragrammaton do not find the meaning there but import it unconsciously. Thus, those who think of God primarily in philosophical terms see the name as an affirmation that God is Being. Others who think of God primarily in terms of God’s faithfulness to the Chosen People (whomever one considers that to be), see the name more in versions like I Will Be Where I Will Be [Always with You]. The fact is that scholars and ordinary people have debated this riddle for centuries – perhaps millennia – and the name revealed to Moses at Horeb remains a mystery today. There are scholars who think the name came from a root entirely unrelated to being, despite the explanation, if such it be, found in Exodus 3. Apparently nowhere else in the Hebrew Bible is the name associated with that root meaning. Suggestions include that the original meaning of the name may be He casts down [his enemies or lightning bolts]. One wonders indeed if calling it a name is even appropriate.

Incidentally, the popular Living Bible , which straightforwardly presents itself as a paraphrase, not a translation, exemplifies the challenge. When Moses asks God’s name, “’The Sovereign Godb,” was the reply. “Just say, “I AM has sent me!” Yes, tell them, ‘Jehovahc, the God of your ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob has sent me to you’ (This is my eternal name, to be used throughout all generations”

The notes in the above quotation suggest “3b Or, ‘The Living God.’ Literally, “I am what I am,’ or, ‘I will be what I will be.’” The note for 3c assets that “Properly the name should be pronounced ‘Yahweh,’ as it is spelled in many modern versions. In this paraphrase ‘Yahweh’ is translated either ‘Jehovah’ or ‘Lord’.” Thus we see two meanings offered for the name – Sovereign God and Living God -- , neither of which is in fact found in the text itself. These are imported into the paraphrase from the presuppositions of those responsible for this publication. Add to it the odd fact that the editors, after asserting that Yahweh is the proper pronunciation of this name, which is certainly still disputed by reputable scholars, proceed to announce that they will use the totally discredited Jehovah instead of Lord, without any difference in font or style to indicate when the Tetragrammaton is meant and not Adonai. This may seem a mere nicety, but in fact, people who use a paraphrase as the basis for their faith need to be aware that what they are reading is not the original text (none of the original manuscripts for any Biblical work exist), not the original language and not even an adequate translation of the text they believe to be inspired.

Finally, regarding difficulties with naming God, St. Thomas Aquinas in Summa Theologica First Part, Question Thirteen addresses the names of God in twelve articles. While asserting that there is a suitable name for God, he is always careful to point out the limitations inherent in any such name, including HE WHO IS (article 11). Since God’s essence is beyond human comprehension, names we give to God may be true but each name will fail to be comprehensive and all names together will still fall short. To put it more simply, a name of God may be true but it will never be The Truth or The Complete Truth.

It is also worth pondering the fact that, for all the devotion to the name of Jesus, no one addressed him with that name during his lifetime. The familiar English name and its variants in other languages are adaptations of the Greek Iesous, itself the Hellenization of the Aramaic Yeshua and Yehoshua. A closer English version of the name his family and friends used would be Joshua.

This brings us to our final question: What difference does it make what we call God?
At this point the reader may find herself in the company of Juliet and her famous lines about names in Act 2, Scene 2 of Romeo and Juliet:

'What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title:'

I suggest that the reason it matters is that the name or names we give to God reveal perhaps more about us than about the Supreme Being, if indeed that is what we mean by God.

If we usually say Lord, for example, this may be no more than a habit we developed as a child, the name we most often heard in church. Yet when we use this term, it may also imply that we view God as the one in charge, the one with all of the power. In nonreligious speech, for example, when we speak of someone lording it over others, we mean that such a person is domineering. After all, the Latin root for domineer and dominate is dominus, the Latin word we translate as Lord in the scripture. Our relationship to such a God is marked by reverence, but perhaps also by a note of fear. This need not be the case, of course, but it may bear some personal reflection.

“The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom,” according to Psalm 111, and Psalm 96 says the LORD is to be feared above all gods. Jacob even swears “by the Fear of his father Isaac.” (Genesis 31:53) What does it mean to think of God mainly in terms of God’s fearsomeness? This would seem to be the God to whom people appeal to explain disasters when these are visited upon those we dislike. Religious leaders who see the wrath of God behind hurricanes, earthquakes and terrorist attacks seem to have this Lord in mind.

What if on the other hand like St. Thérèse de Lisieux we speak of God as Merciful Love? Does this mean that we do not think of God in terms of power? Perhaps it means we think of God’s power as manifesting itself in acts of forgiveness and love, rather than in acts of destruction and anger. The difference is in how we view power – as destructive or creative, as hurtful or healing.

As Thérèse wrote, to her sister Mother Agnes,

"O my dear Mother! After so many graces can I not sing with Psalmist: “How GOOD is the Lord, his MERCY endures forever!” [Psalm 117:1] It seems to me that if all creatures had received the same graces I received, God would be feared by no one but would be loved to the point of folly; and through love, not through fear, no one would ever consent to cause Him any pain… What a sweet joy it is to think that God is Just, i.e., that He takes into account our weakness, that He is perfectly aware of our fragile nature. What should I fear then?"

In this same section, this youngest Doctor of the Church notes that people tend to view God under one or other of the many divine attributes. She does not mean that one should reduce God to one attribute, for she fully grasps that the reality of the mystery of God is beyond human comprehension or intellectual simplification. She says that she views all the other attributes through the attribute of Divine Mercy. She asserts that this is not the only way to view God, but it is her way, a way that sustained her through much suffering in her short life and which won her an honored place among the holy ones of God.

The Discalced Carmelite poet Jessica Powers (Sr. Miriam of the Holy Spirit) once debated with a friend which of God’s attributes is most important. At the time of the discussion, she held out for Beauty, but at the end of her life, she told another friend that it was Mercy. That the young poet had first looked at all of God’s attributes from the light of Beauty is no surprise, nor is it surprising that after a lifetime of experience and reflection, she, like Thérèse , had discovered Mercy.

At one point in my life I was struggling with difficulties understanding God and that philosophical conundrum the problem of evil. I was seeing a Benedictine spiritual director on a weekly basis and found his wisdom quite helpful. At one point he pointed out to me that I never spoke of Jesus, but only of God.

“It sounds like when you think of God, you think of an abstraction, a philosophical more than a religious or personal reality. Is that so?”

I was taken aback. Yet as I pondered his remarks, I had to admit that he was onto something. The way I referred to God revealed something about my own inner approach to life, my needs and desires – for logical order, for control, for predictability. This insight (and conscious attempts to think of Jesus instead of an abstract Deist god) did not resolve all of my difficulties, but it did put them into a different light. It made me realize that much of my problem was my own creation – my expectations of what God is supposed to be. The spiritual director had more to go on than that verbal nicety, but it encapsulated for him the core of my struggle.

According to the gospels, Jesus habitually addressed God as Abba. Later theologians and church councils would use this as a starting point in formulating Trinitarian orthodoxy. What is most obvious from this fact, however, is what it reveals about Jesus, who saw himself in terms of a relationship with God like that of a son to a father. Within the Roman civil tradition of the role of the paterfamilias, the father even had the power of life and death over his children. This notion of fatherhood lay behind much theological discussion as one rooted in authority and absolute power over the members of the household. Yet it is more likely that what Jesus revealed by the name he called God was that his experience of God was not about power and control nearly so much as it was about tenderness and care.

What names do I call God? Judge, Creator, Father (or Mother)? Merciful, Almighty, Holy One, Friend? Jealous One, Punisher, Savior? Emmanuel (God with us), Sophia (Wisdom), Logos (Word)? What part of the truth of the Divine reality is represented by the name or names that I use? Perhaps more importantly for my own spiritual growth, what part of the divine reality does this name or these names omit? What does this omission tell me about myself?

We must use names if we are to speak, although perhaps we could learn from the wisdom of the Tao Te Ching: “The Tao that can be named is not the eternal Tao.” If we do insist, however, that we need names to speak about and even to God, then perhaps we will find it helpful to use many names rather than only one. This may serve to remind us that the inner mystery of God, as Vatican I taught,

"Now reason, does indeed when it seeks persistently, piously and soberly, achieve by God's gift some understanding, and that most profitable, of the mysteries, whether by analogy from what it knows naturally, or from the connection of these mysteries with one another and with the final end of humanity; but reason is never rendered capable of penetrating these mysteries in the way in which it penetrates those truths which form its proper object.

"For the divine mysteries, by their very nature, so far surpass the created understanding that, even when a revelation has been given and accepted by faith, they remain covered by the veil of that same faith and wrapped, as it were, in a certain obscurity, as long as in this mortal life we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, and not by sight."

To end on a light note, consider T. S. Eliot’s playful “The Naming of Cats,” wherein the poet says that cats have three names. The first is the ordinary name used by the family on a daily basis, the second a more dignified name that is unique to each cat. As for the third,

"But above and beyond
there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you will never guess;
The name
that no human research can discover--
But The Cat Himself Knows,
and will never confess.

When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought,
of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name."[9]

So perhaps it is with God.
---------------------------------------

[1] Arthur C. Clarke, The Nine Billion Names of God: The Best Short Stories of Arthur C. Clarke (Aemeron Ltd., 1996). The complete text of the story, written in 1953, is available online at http://lucis.net/stuff/clarke/9billion_clarke.html.

[2] Amin Maalouf’s novel, Balthasar’s Odyssey (New York: Arcade Publishing, 2000) concerns the search for a book with the title The Hundredth Name (also, The Unveiling of the Hidden Name), about the supreme name of God “that someone has only to utter to avert any kind of danger or obtain any favour from Heaven.” p. 8. Like Clarke’s story, this one also concerns itself with the end of the world, in the novel anticipated to occur in 1666.

[3] The Revised English bible with the Apocrypha (Oxford University Press and Cambridge University Press, 1989)

[4] The Living Bible: Paraphrased (Wheaton, Illinois: Tyndale House Publishers, 1971).

[5] Ibid., p. 50.

[6] St. Therese of Lisieux, “Act of Oblation to Merciful Love”, Story of a Soul: The Autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux, translated by John Clarke, O.C.D., 2^nd edition (Washington, DC: ICS Publications, 1976), pp. 276-277. It is instructive that the reader who consults the index of this fine translation for the word mercy is instructed to “see God.”

[7] Ibid., p. 180.

[8] Dei filius 4,4.

[9] T. S. Eliot, “The Naming of Cats”, The Complete Poems and Plays 1909-1956(New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, Inc., 1952) p. 149.