On the delta at Boundary Bay on a successful quest to see snowy owls.

The owls have flown south for winter. Apparently, our Fraser River Delta looks arctic enough for a stop: wide open water, snowy mountain background, and short grasses alive with tasty rodents.

To the owls, our delta may simply be a winter luncheonette. But to us, an exotic white owl is a gift of grace. Each owl sighting brings together photographers, bird watchers, naturalists, outdoor tourists, and spiritual seekers. We stand, silent and motionless as a perched owl, worshipping from a respectful distance.

Behind the snowy owl sits snowy Mt. Baker.

If the owl is like a gift of grace, Mt. Baker is like a god. Massive, established, ancient, volcanic. Always visible, always hidden. Stable yet filled with mysterious inner dynamics.

Mt. Baker is only 11,000 feet tall. Compared to the sapphire blue sky, Mt. Baker is an infinitesimal micron. Mt. Baker’s cone is only 90,000 years old. Compared to a creator said to sit on the sapphire throne, Mt. Baker is a fleeting twinkle in someone’s eye.

Imagine a god conceived to be so ancient that it shatters the definition of “ancient.” Or so big that “big” isn’t even a relevant category. All you can say is: this God is “eternal” and “infinite.” The words are cold and abstract. It’s easier to glimpse infinity by silently scanning for owl, mountain and sky. No wonder Maimonides speaks of “negative theology.” Words can only say what God is not. 

Jewish tradition is filled with words about God. Words so beautiful and challenging, they seduce us into positive theology. We take the words too seriously, imagining they pinpoint God’s nature.

And then, frustration trips us up. Dang words can’t express the wild energy we touch. Dang God doesn’t do what the words promise.

Last Shabbat at Or Shalom, we gathered for a tisch (Shabbos table discussion) about prayer. Our leaders John and Gloria placed before us a famous poem, the Gevurot (Powers) section of the Amidah (standing silent meditation). We read:

You sustain the living with loving-kindness, and with great compassion revive the dead. You support the fallen, heal the sick, set captives free, and keep faith with those who sleep in the dust.

Kymn asked, rhetorically, “Are we supposed to take this as literally true?”

Because if you read these lines as a theological statement, they are false. God does not do these things with consistency.

But if you read the lines as a prayer, they are true. Many people yearn for a Supreme Being, World Controller, Source of Inner Power who will consistently do these things.

The Gevurot is a masterpiece of negative theology. It does not tell us who God is. It only shows us only how we point towards God.

Judaism is like one finger pointing at the moon. But once you’ve seen the moon, what is the finger?

Once you’ve seen the owl, the volcano, and the sapphire sky, where do you look next?

Images: photos of Boundary Bay, BC, Canada by Charles Kaplan.