No God but God

Often, much is made of names, particularly, the name of God. But what is the name of God? And why is it so important to get it right? As Shakespeare’s Juliet put it, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Though Juliet might have a point, it is a confused and thorny one. For a rose by any other name, while still a rose, would not thereby be properly identified. Thus, if I were to call the store and order a dozen sweet-smelling “eggs” for my wife, though meaning to indicate “roses,” I would invariably incur a night on the couch, instead of the bed. And if I were to point to a bed of roses and call it a bed of “pillows,” I might be considered crazy with a horrible knack for bad metaphors.

As there can be only one singular origin of the universe, an essence of such greatness and magnitude or plurality that all such things might come of it, there can only be one God. For if there were, say, two Gods, we might well ask, “Which is mightier, and thus God?”

This reminds me of an old parable wherein two chiefs claimed to have the best weapon of all: one had a spear that could pierce anything and the other had a shield that could block anything. The question, of course, was whether the almighty spear could pierce the impenetrable shield or the impenetrable shield could stop the almighty spear.

Thus, if there were two almighty Gods, one would surely, invariably, and inevitably have the better of the other. (This is not to say that there cannot be other Gods or gods–only that there is one ultimate and supreme God of all.)

If, then, there can seemingly only be one almighty God, which God is God, if there is, indeed, no God but God?

What’s in a Name?

A name is an identifier, a signifier, a pointer as well as an identity, a sign, and a point: a name identifies, signifies, and points to a person or object as well as declaring that person or object as such an identity, sign, or point. Indeed, when I am called by my name, I am both identified by such and identified as such. I am what I am, and I am what I am named. The name of an individual is both that by which it is known and that of which it is, for a name garners a reputation.

As a child, I was labeled with a certain given name; as I have grown, I have grown with and into that name, building and developing an identity for that name, which, in short, is my reputation. I am first named by some arbitrary identifier and then as I grow into that identifier, I make it to be more than that, to be my identity, in fact.

There are a number of names for God, but what is the name of God? Of course, to call God by “God” is to use the English term for the deity, but to use the Spanish term would be to use “Dios,” or the German term would be “Gott,” or the Greek would be “Theos,” or the Hebrew would be “El” or “Elohim.” Then, again, the Muslims call God “Allah,” and the Jews call God “Yahweh,” whereas the Christians name God “Christ Jesus.”

Beyond mere semantics, the name of God in any language is also an identifying marker of the identity of God as conceived in that language by the sociolinguistic culture in which that language has developed. Thus, to call God by the English term “God” is to assume the sociolinguistic history of the term. Of course, language changes over time and is constantly in flux, being redefined day by day with everyday usage, implications, and meanings. However, looking at the possible original meaning or usage of the term might shed some light on our current assumption and usage of the term.

Sociolinguistic Roots

The contemporary English term “God” comes from the Old English term “god,” which derives from the Proto-Germanic term “*guthan,” which derives from the Proto-Indo-European term “*ghutós,” which means something like “invocation” or “libation,” carrying with it the idea of invoking the divine by means of a libation.

This idea of invoking the divine with a drink offering poured out, or even a prayer, which seemingly stands behind the term “God,” offers a view of God that is akin to a vending machine. At a vending machine, I “pour out” my money into the machine to obtain some satisfaction of the goods held within its compartments. Looking to God as a divine vending machine, I can “pour out” my prayers, if not a drink offering, to him in an effort to effect a certain change or cause in my situation.

I have heard many a preachers denounce engaging God as a vending machine, but I wonder if there is something to the ancient way of engaging God as such: if God is, indeed, the Father Creator of all things and is almighty, etc., then why should not his creatures, which he has created and which look to him for all provision and sustenance, even their very existence and substance, make requests of him? Is he not their only real option for providing that which they need, want, and desire?

Of course, those preachers presumably only intend to exhort and encourage their parishioners to develop a relationship with God that is more than mere expression for supplication and provision, salvation and deliverance, but is also, and perhaps more importantly, one of mutual, genuine reciprocal love and admiration. This portrays God as a loving father and loyal friend.

Today, however, it seems that there is something of the old ancient idea of God in our idea of God, as that which or the one whom we invoke. The old idea, which persists today in many religious customs and adherents, is that God must be addressed with a libation of sorts, a pouring out of a sacrificial offering. In the old days, and perhaps in some places still today, the sacrifice might be one of blood, usually bestial, or some drink offering. The sacrifice was made unto God as a means to, in a way, manipulate the deity to perform some task or action on behalf of the devotee. It seems to have been a very quid pro quo sort of relationship: appease God with a sacrifice, and then God will “appease” you.

To be sure, God is generous with his gifts, else he would not be God, for a miserly God would be no God at all, since a miser is not one who is full but is empty, and God is full of the fullness of reality to the hilt. I suppose if all you wanted from God were his good gifts, he might just give that to you, but to avail yourself of a greater understanding of God as more than a mere divine vending machine, which must be appeased with your perfunctory sacrifice, requires you to sacrifice your sacrifices, to offer up your offerings, and to take on a new mindset regarding God and who God is.

An Ancient God

In the ancient near east, in the land of the Hebrews, the land of Israel, once the land of Canaan, the name of God was “Baal.” There was a god by the name of “El,” which is Semitic for “God,” but Baal was the great god of the region, the one worshipped by all the inhabitants, near and far. El was the great god of all the world and the universe, having created all gods, humanity, and creatures. El, however, is not mentioned much in Canaanite mythology, and is supplanted by his son, Baal.

Baal was the god of fertility and the production of life; he was immanent and near, involved in the life and production of crops and the fertility of all creatures and humanity. El, though mighty and powerful, was distant and aloof, far removed from the day-to-day life of humanity and the production of crops. As El was a god far off and Baal was a god nearby, people lost touch with El and Baal became the popular god of the region worshipped there.

For the Hebrews, the name of God was supposed to be “Yahweh,” as had been revealed to the Hebrew people by Moses, their great deliverer from Egyptian slavery. In many ways, the people of Israel did remember that the name of God was Yahweh, but they synchronistically switched Baal for Yahweh, making Yahweh wed to Asherah, the consort of Baal.

Baal’s name literally means “Lord,” so it’s not too much of a stretch to understand why or how Yahweh, who was called “Adonai,” which also means “Lord,” was associated with and a replacement for Baal: as Baal was Lord and Yahweh was Lord, so Baal must also be Yahweh, the reasoning of the ancient Hebrews must have gone.

The worship of Baal and Asherah were very much like the worship of God as a divine vending machine: the devotees of Baal and Asherah sought to appease them with their worship so that Baal and Asherah would in turn meet their needs and requests. In order to stimulate or encourage Baal and Asherah to meet the needs and requests of devotees, worshippers would seek to incite the gods to fulfill their duties by engaging in sexual intercourse. The gods would see the humans thus worshipping them and be incited to engage in their own acts of intercourse. The intercourse of Baal and Asherah would then result in rainfall on the crops of the fields and thereby produce the grains, fruits, and vegetation needed for the sustaining of all life in the region.

Calling Upon the Name of God

As the biblical story goes, whenever the people of Israel would forsake their idolatry to Baal and call upon the name of God, he would deliver them from their oppression. Since the Hebrew people engaged in syncretistic worship of Baal as Yahweh and conceived that Yahweh had a wife, namely, Asherah, the consort of Baal, it is perhaps not too much of a stretch of the imagination to think that when they called upon the name of God, their God Yahweh, they may not have had an accurate view of God: they may have thought of God as something like Baal.

For this reason, the Hebrews had the revelation of God in the Torah, wherein we read about the revelation of who God is. On two rather distinct occasions in the Torah, God reveals his name to Moses. The first is in the burning bush incident, where God reveals his name as Yahweh, or “I AM” or “I AM WHO/WHAT I AM,” meaning that the God revealed to Moses in the burning bush is the God who is absolute existence, the ground of being, the substance of substance, that by which all else is.

The second incident is found in Exodus chapters 32 through 34. Beginning these chapters, Moses smashes the first copy of the stone tablets on which God had written his commandments. This was after Moses had just discovered the people of Israel worshipping a golden calf with what the KJV calls “play,” a euphemism for orgy; and this is exactly how Baal was depicted and worshipped.

God is ready to destroy the people and build a nation out of Moses, but Moses intercedes for the people, pleading with God to demonstrate his lovingkindness and grace toward them for the sake of his own name, lest his name be tarnished among the surrounding nations. In chapter 33, God tells Moses that he will not forsake the people of Israel, because he is pleased with Moses and knows Moses by name, to which Moses replies, “Then show me your glory.”

This word “glory” is interesting because it can mean something like “reputation,” and the word “name” is interesting because it, too, can mean something like “reputation.” It’s as if God says to Moses, “I am pleased with you on account of the fact that I know your reputation,” and Moses says to God, “Then let me know your reputation, too.” Then, in reply, God says, “I’ll show you all my goodness and proclaim my name, my reputation, to you.”

The word for goodness, of course, comes from the word “good,” which in the Hebrew carries with it the idea of “what is pleasing”: God says he’s pleased with Moses and knows him by name, knows his reputation, with which he is pleased; and then God tells Moses that he will reveal to Moses his own name, his own reputation, that which will please Moses. The revelation of God’s name is the revelation of pleasure, as his reputation is that which is pleasing and satisfactory, satisfaction and pleasure itself.

The Name of God

What, though, is the name of God? As revealed to Moses, the name of God is Yahweh, I AM, the source of and the actual existence of existence, reality itself ultimate and consummate. In Exodus 33, God once again reveals to Moses his name as Yahweh, but refines and defines it, saying that his goodness will pass before Moses, as he proclaims his name, Yahweh, the one who will have mercy and compassion on whom he will. Further definition is found in Exodus 34, where God actually passes before Moses, declaring that he is thus:

Yahweh, Yahweh, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion, and sin. Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished; he punishes the children and their children for the sin of the parents to the third and fourth generation. (Exodus 34:6-7)

God is thus the ground of being, the very existence by which existence is, the “is-ness” of being. He is kind and compassionate. He loves with faithfulness, forgiving people of their sin and rebellion. He is also fair and just, as he is righteous; he would be no God worth knowing if he were not.

There is, however, something in all this that might be easily missed. You may have noticed it, though: it is God’s goodness.

When God says that he will proclaim his name, his reputation, to Moses, he says he will cause all his goodness to pass by. God is, in effect, equating his name, his reputation with his glory, which Moses requests to see and which God follows with “I will show you all my goodness.”

The goodness of God, then, is wrapped up in his glory is wrapped up in his reputation is wrapped up in his name.

What is the name of God, then? It is that he is good. Of course, we cannot define God as good by our definition or definitions of what we think is good–we must allow God as good define our definitions of what we ought to think is good.

As was revealed to Moses, God is the ground of being.

God is kind and compassionate.

God is patient.

God is faithful.

God is forgiving.

God is just and righteous.

And God is good.

The name of God is good because God is good.

To be sure, God is good.