At first glance, "glory" is an incredibly vague and difficult concept, especially when we are talking about God. We know "glory" in the sense that an athlete can have a glorious victory; or we can witness a glorious sunrise or sunset; or maybe we can see the glory in a hard-won battle for freedom and life. But what does it mean when we talk about God's "glory?" Is it anything like those things just mentioned? Is God's glory like a glorious athletic victory or a glorious sunrise? Well, here's where my dictionary digging came in handy.
In the Pocket Dictionary of Theological Terms, ed. Grenz, Guretzki, and Nordling, "glory" is defined,
A biblical term used in reference to the unapproachable and mighty manifestation of the immediate presence of God. The biblical concept of glory carries with it connotations of inexpressible beauty and majesty. At the same time it implies an absolutely pure and terrifying 'holiness' confronting the sinfulness of humans.
This is a good start for the student of theology and the bible, though I doubt it resonates much with the average joe in the pews. Perhaps what is to be gained most in this definition is the "unapproachable and mighty manifestation" of God's presence and the "terrifying 'holiness' confronting the sinfulness of humans." To simplify, God is big and mighty; sometimes terrifyingly so.
In Crazy Talk: A Not-So-Stuffy Dictionary of Theological Terms, ed. by Rolf Jacobson, "glory" is defined,
An indefinably fine quality that is used to describe the indescribable.
I like this so called "definition" because it immediately sets out that God's glory is indefinable and indescribable. The contributors to this dictionary know their limits as human beings and they know the limits of language to describe in indescribable. Perhaps we should pay attention to this very closely.
In Wishful Thinking: A Seeker's ABC, by Frederick Buechner, "glory" is defined,
Glory is to God what style is to an artist. A painting by Vermeer, a sonnet by Donne, a Mozart aria — each is so rich with the style of the one who made it that to the connoisseur it couldn’t have been made by anybody else, and the effect is staggering. The style of artists brings you as close to the sound of their voices and the light in their eyes as it is possible to get this side of actually shaking hands with them.
In the words of the nineteenth Psalm, “The heavens are telling the glory of God.” It is the same thing. To the connoisseur, not just sunsets and starry nights but dust storms, rain forests, garter snakes, the human face, are all unmistakably the work of a single hand. Glory is the outward manifestation of that hand in its handiwork just as holiness is the inward. To behold God’s glory, to sense his style, is the closest you can get to him this side of Paradise, just as King Lear is the closest you can get to Shakespeare.
Glory is what God looks like when for the time being all you have to look at him with is a pair of eyes.
This is so far my favorite "definition." Instead of trying desperately to define the indefinable or completely pass on describing the indescribable, Buechner ponders and wonders the glory of God, like a connoisseur of good beer (or wine if you prefer).
"Glory is the outward manifestation of the hand in its handiwork." That's good stuff right there. "Glory is what God looks like when for the time being all you have to look at him with is a pair of eyes." Also good, good stuff. And my favorite, "To the connoisseur, not just sunsets and starry nights but dust storms, rain, forests, garter snakes, the human face, are all unmistakably the work of a single hand."
What does it mean to be a connoisseur of God's glory? It means to find the remarkable in the seemingly unremarkable. To your average listener, a Mozart aria has little-to-no defining qualities to it; but to the connoisseur, the extraordinary is found in the seemingly ordinary. To the average viewer, a painting by Vermeer is just another painting. But to the connoisseur, the extraordinary is found in the ordinary. As the preacher I heard on Thursday said, "to be a connoisseur of God's glory is to find traces of God in the ordinary, everyday things of life."
I like that. And to take it a step further, perhaps: to be a connoisseur of God's glory is to find traces of God's glory in the places that we'd never, ever look; places like the cross. Hidden under it's opposite, glory shines brightly from the cruel instrument of the cross.
The world hates this kind of glory, by the way. Glory in suffering, glory in death. Glory doesn't exist here, the world tells us. Glory is in victory and victory never looks like a despicable death on a cross.
Of course, connoisseurs never seem to "discover" this glory. It is always revealed to them. Which is why it is impossible to describe God's glory, because it is always there and not here; always this way and not that. God's glory is only revealed in the proclamation of a Word outside of ourselves; Jesus Christ, hung on a cross and raised up for our sake. Paul says it best in 2 Corinthians 4, "For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and our selves as your slaves for Jesus' sake. For it is the God who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness', who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ."
On the mountain that day, Peter desperately wanted to build three dwelling places to capture that glorious moment in space and time. But God's glory wouldn't be held captive there. Instead, God shouts with a voice from a cloud, "This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!" God's own proclamation there on the mountain top for all gathered to hear it, that Jesus is the one to listen to.
So, enough theology. What does this mean? What I think it means is that while God's glory cannot ever be captured, it can be proclaimed. And God's glory is always found in all the wrong places. First, it was on the cross, in God's own beloved Son, Jesus Christ. We can see traces of God's glory on the cross in our own world, today. Traces of God's glory are found in the last, lost and least of those in our midst. Precisely where we'd never think to look, but are only revealed to us by God.
As our preacher from Thursday quoted C.S. Lewis and his sermon, The Weight of Glory,
Meanwhile the cross comes before the crown and tomorrow is a Monday morning. A cleft has opened in the pitiless walls of the world, and we are invited to follow our great Captain inside. The following Him is, of course, the essential point. That being so, it may be asked what practical use there is in the speculations which I have been indulging. I can think of at least one such use. It may be possible for each to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter; it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbour. The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbour's glory should be laid daily on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken.
Good stuff, y'all.
Excellent Exegetical Work! I wonder how the Hebrew notion of kavod--glory having a weightiness or heaviness to it plays in as well.
ReplyDeleteC.S. Lewis, being the man he was, not doubt wrote his article from thinking about "kavod."
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