Once we allow for the possibility of the divine, it is only natural to try to understand just what it is we are talking about.
I don’t think it is entirely controversial to say that we Mormons don’t do mystery very well. In fact, I have sat in many Sunday School and early-morning seminary classes where the very idea that Truth could be mysterious was ridiculed. One of the founding principles of the faith was that many “plain and precious” had been lost. Mormons talk about the “Great Apostasy” — the period of time from shortly after the death of Christ and his original disciples up until 1820 and Joseph Smith’s divine encounter — as a time when evil and designing (or perhaps well-intentioned but Satanically influenced) men twisted the meaning of simple gospel truths and transmogrified them into something mysterious and incomprehensible (for a more charitable discussion of the relationship between Mormonism and the creeds of the wider Christian world, see this).
This is a compelling narrative (and would have been perhaps especially resonant with the virulent anti-Catholicism of Joseph’s day), but I think it is at least possible that the pendulum has swung too far away from the mysterious.
The manual’s very brief discussion of the nature of God first makes the point that man was created in the image of God, and therefore, to quote its anonymous authors, “[God’s] eternal spirit”–like ours–“is housed in a tangible body of flesh and bones.” This straightforward, but radical, reading of Genesis seems to shock and scandalize the broader Christian community (do a google search for Lorenzo Snow’s famous couplet for a taste of the controversy).
I really love some of the implications of this heretical theology. Terryl Givens enunciates this well, “That God has a heart that beats in sympathy with ours is the truth that catalyzes millions—that he feels real sorrow, rejoices with real gladness, and weeps real tears. This, as Enoch learned, is an awful, terrible, yet infinitely comforting truth” (from this article).
But I think we sometimes take this to ridiculous extremes.
On one hand, it is
sometimes often used as a way to deny the empirically demonstrable reality of human evolution (ask yourself if you really believe that God has nostrils — lungs? lower intestines? For that matter, is God fully equipped with vestigial organs?).
This also sometimes takes us to places that would really be better left un-speculated upon. For some reason, it was very important to Bruce McConkie’s worldview that God was in the most literal sense the father of Jesus Christ. Now, McConkie was fantastically, spectacularly, and utterly wrong on many, many occasions (you really have to admire the ballsy-ness that led him to publish Mormon Doctrine in the first place), and it is perhaps unfair to trot out some of his sillier ideas. But no one ever accused bloggers of being fair. I won’t delve any further into the lurid details here, but it should be sufficient to say that I think this kind of “doctrine” is entirely unhelpful.
Most seriously however, I think there is a real danger in having a god that is too familiar. Perhaps only because it is fresh on my mind, let me appeal to the mystics once again. Armstrong discusses mysticism as a way of combating the idolatrous impulse–the desire to create god in our image. It seems to me that one of the great advantages of leaving a little mystery in God’s nature is that it restores some of the “divine distance” (to borrow from Givens again) that Joseph Smith enthusiastically closed wherever possible. The mystic traditions acknowledge that God is too big for any one person to hold in his or her imagination. The cocksure pronouncements of Mormons (pest personified in my mind my Elder McConkie) have a tendency to quickly slide into arrogance, and we might do well to back off from overconfidence in the face of the divine.
One of the things that I find most engaging about god in the mystical tradition is the vastness that I find there. It is analogous to what I find great about poetry — by jarring us out of our normal ways of thinking, it hints at transcendent truth. Similarly with the mystical. If we too readily assume that we know what Joseph was talking about when he said that God is “an exalted man” who “sits enthroned in yonder heavens,” we risk closing the door on truths that cannot be spoken.
A masculine god?
A final problem… in the short 11 sentences in this section, I count no less than 11 masculine pronouns with reference to God.
One of the great tragedies of the “mainstreaming” of Mormonism is the way in which we seem intent on erasing some of the most beautiful elements of our theology. I am not the first to comment on the absence of the divine feminine from the most recent edition of the manual. In past editions of the manual, one could find Her between the lines in references to “heavenly parents,” but even those have been removed in the 2011 version.
Others have made the case for a more prominent role for a feminine counterpart to the traditional image of god, and I feel like any attempt by me to add to what has already been said on the topic would be inadequate.
The God that I believe in is far bigger than the parochial, white-bearded kingly father-figure that we have foisted upon us at times.