This started as a comment on this post but ballooned out of control.

Yes, bls, you’re right—we started gendering God quite a long time ago; now the question is what to do about it and why. The last is probably the place to start…

The Scriptures and the Tradition have shown a repeated preference for metaphors that are male (Father and Son). I also think there’s no debate that the Scriptures and Tradition were produced by patriarchal cultures and that the theological authorities were overwhelmingly males and, for much of the Christian era, celibates to boot. (I think the last point is significant; in some—though certainly not all—monastic/hagiographical literature there’s an inclination to see women as the enemy out to destroy the man’s purity… The stories of Aquinas’s early days come to mind.) Furthermore, one Person of the Trinity does have physical gender—by all accounts Jesus became incarnate as a man, thus increasing the potential for literalization of the metaphors of Father and Son.

But what’s our goal–to fix metaphor or to transcend metaphor?

I’m speaking in very broad strokes now…

Mother Laura’s approach moves towards fixing the metaphors by balancing them, male and female and neutral.

Fr. John-Julian’s approach seeks to transcend metaphor by cutting through human language to spiritual realities.

I see Doug trying both to fix metaphor and transcend metaphor through a re-energizing of the metaphor. Yes, bls, Doug’s connection of mother language with Jesus rather than with the First Person of the Trinity is a contradiction and that’s the point… Using female language of the one Person who may legitimately be called gendered and male serves as a paradox—hopefully as a Zen-like koan, even—that assists us to retain the metaphors of both “Son” and “Mother” yet points to transcendence in the gap between the two.

As much as I’d like to transcend metaphor (a la my “trial shot“) I don’t think most congregations will reach that point en masse. So—some kind of fix has to occur. I’m just not sure what, but I dislike an unreflective knee-jerk changing of metaphors (which is not at all what I see you doing, Mother Laura).

Now, I fully recognize that I’m classic “oppressor” material–a straight white male from the educated class upholding, on the surface at least, the way of speaking and think that has kept me and mine on top. I’m conscious of all that—and yet… I do feel that re-energizing the traditional language is still spiritually and theologically useful; I’ll give two quick examples without all the nuancing and hedging that I’d normally prefer for lack of time:

1) I worry that sometimes (though certainly not all) when “Mother” is used for God it is used because it is the word for a female parent and not because it is engaging the metaphor of “Mother”. That is, “Father” as a root metaphor means something different from “Parent” and “Mother”. All three carry different social, cultural, and emotional freight. Yes, I realize I’m splitting hairs here—but I keep sensing that they’re important hairs for the discussion.

2) As I tell my students, theology is an integrated science; we can’t change one part without affecting (and effecting) other things. “Father” as a metaphor for God cannot—to my mind—be abstracted from a host of meanings that tie deeply to our sacramental theology among other things. A professor in college once told me that God was not male in Scripture since he lacked the primary marker for male gods in the Ancient Near East—a consort: there’s no Mrs. YWHW. But upon study and reflection, I believe this dear mentor was wrong. Mrs. YHWH is the pilgrim people of God, Israel and the Church. The Church is the bride of Christ and the Blessed Virgin is the pre-eminent sign and type of the Church. (Yes, there’s an oedipal thing there we won’t go into now…) And this matters deeply when we talk about our Eucharistic and Baptismal theology and therefore also ties into our doctrines of salvation. Changing the metaphor profoundly changes the relationship (in ways I’d never really thought through before—interesting…)

I think this topic is an important one because of its many implications both pastoral and theological. Mother Laura and Doug are thinking through these issues but so many I’ve seen in seminaries aren’t—they’re appropriating the dominant model (whether patriarchal or not)—without applying thought and sussing out the implications and that bothers me.

Interesting thoughts from Metacatholic.

I agree with him. All gendered language about God is metaphor. “Father” and “Son” are important root metaphors that the Scriptures and tradition have returned to again and again but we lose a lot if we collapse the metaphors–or dispense with them.

As I’ve suggested in this trial shot on the Trinity,we should “[t]hink not, however, of two men and a breeze; think, rather, of the mystery that lies at the heart of life.”

There was an interesting discussion involving the Young Fogey and bls somewhere recently that focused on the issue of whether a church–the Church–is infallible or not and the consequences that result from it.

As I recall (and I know you’ll correct me if I get it wrong), YF was arguing that if the Church—whether in the person of the Pope or in its councils as with the Eastern churches—is infallible, then all efforts to change its doctrine and/or discipline outside these channels are not only misguided but morally and theologically wrong.

bls was arguing that if the Church—in whatever local instantiation—is not infallible, then its doctrine and discipline can and should be reviewed and changed if necessary.

Needless to say, the 39 Articles and its thoughts on the fallibility of churches and councils were put into play suggesting that a core part of Anglican identity depends on the notion that neither churches nor the Church are infallible.

To my mind, this question and its implications are definitely worth discussing and pursuing. As YF noted, the way we answer this issue has a great deal to do with current theological dispute and how—or if—they can be settled. If the Church is infallible, current attempts to reinterpret, say, traditional teachings on human sexuality are wrong, full stop. If it is not infallible, then not only are such attempts not wrong but are even helpful. If people holding opposing positions talk they will be able to come to an understanding but not an agreement.

My own understanding is, following Vincent’s Commonitory, that doctrine is more or less fixed. Development in doctrine should not be change but rather an unfolding of the implications of what has been thought and taught and practiced from the beginning. Discipline, however, is a different story and is culturally shaped and conditioned. (And where the line is drawn is a debated issue as well—I see women’s ordination as a matter of discipline, not doctrine, though I know that some disagree.)

What follows from that stance is that I believe the Church and its various local instantiations is not infallible. Rather, reading Matthew’s parable of the wheat and the tares—as the Fathers did—pertaining to the current state of Christ’s church, it is not pure but has wheat and tares intermingled. Further, I think it’s clear that some of the tares have made it to the top in various times and places (like, say, the Borgia popes…).

Too, how we answer the question has implications for both our pneumatology and our christology. If it is not fallible, then how do we understand the presence of the Holyu Spirit in the Church and the Church as the Body of Christ? If the Church can err does that mean Jesus can err as well? And that, of course, heads down a road I’d rather not travel…

I’ll add one further thought on the matter which is to say that I think the question of fallibility/infallibility is properly framed at the level of the Church/churches, not at the level of the Scriptures. To proclaim the Scriptures infallible seems to me a an easy out because what is being proclaimed infallible is not really the Scriptures but a certain interpretation thereof.

(Too, if we deemed the Scriptures infallible I would see it requiring us to say that they are infallible in their purpose as well as their content—and thus everyone who reads them will necessarily, infallibly, become Christian. And that’s patently not the case…)