'God be in my head' or 'God happens in our heads'?

By David Kitchingman in All Sorts

discussion of the opposing beliefs about God - objectively real or a product of human thought

'God be in my head' or 'God happens in our heads'? st On the left, a 500 year-old hymn, still a favourite. On the right, a 21 century theologian's assertion. One is the anonymous composition, 'God be in my head and in my understanding', published in 1514 by one of the first printers of English books, Richard Pynson. The other was written this year by Ian Harris whose 'Faith and reason' articles often appear in the Otago Daily Times and Touchstone. There's a superficial similarity of expression, but each sits on either side of a gulf between opposing beliefs about God - as objectively real or a product of human thought.

The difference is vast, but the distinction is difficult. That's because we can never jump out of our brains when talking about the Godhead. If I say God is real, I am expressing a human thought about something beyond all thought. On the other hand, if I say God is not real, that too is a thought, and subject to error, which in turn is also a thought, though one that most of us can agree on. This tends to lead to a stalemate in the debate between the two sides, but that doesn't seem to quell its intensity in some quarters.
An interesting example of the controversy, in a mild enough way, occurred when Ian Harris contributed his February article to the ODT, entitled 'God happens in our heads, or not, as the case may be'. That was followed by a rebuttal from Professor Murray Rae, headed 'God is our creator, not the other way around'. Sir Lloyd Geering then joined the fray in support of Ian Harris with a column on 'God's history in "thought world"'. Ten or so letters to the editor showed public interest from both camps.
The Explorers Group in our Parish was also interested to follow the arguments, as we have done over a number of years. We have had discussions and shared some individual papers of our own. We could
see strengths in the arguments from both sides, but we were also surprised to notice some weaknesses too. An obviously fallacious argument popped up in each case. This is usually known as the argument from authority, by appealing to the status of those who support your view. We were told by one contributor that 'leading-edge Christian thinkers' see it one way, while another claimed that 'numerous eminent theologians' have the opposite view. Perhaps as a group of amateurs we were more likely to notice such an error, since we cherish the right of all individuals to their own insights, especially in matters of faith.
But reflecting as a group, we can safely say that the most important discovery we have ever made is that not only do we have a substantial variety of opinion amongst us, but we are also capable of sharing disparate ideas in an environment of mutual respect and encouragement. That, of course, should come across as quite unremarkable in a church group. Unfortunately, there seems to be a deep reluctance in church circles to venture into such challenging conversations, and that is seriously inhibiting our growth and adaptability to change. While this God debate was chugging over in the public square, the churches, as far as I am aware, simply ignored it. Worse, it seems that the higher up one goes in the formal hierarchies the less open we are to dealing with fundamental issues.
It's enough to drive one back to the hymn and contemplate its supplications. 'God be in my understanding, in my looking, in my speaking and in my thinking'. If, as Christians generally (if not universally) believe, God is ontologically other, then we should expect that God-given thoughts, observations and communications will be of a far higher order that our unaided nature provides. In other words, a sign of God's presence amongst us would even be an openness and empathy for those for whom God's absence is their prevailing perception. The God who seems worth believing in, indeed the one modelled in the life and teaching of Jesus, does not impose any rigid
orthodoxy of belief on us, and demonstrably avoids compelling us to bow down and worship.
If that is a salutary reminder to believers not to push their case for defining God too hard, unbelievers are also reminded by the hymn not to oversimplify their own argument, by focusing only on God as a mental construct. The hymn goes on to plead, 'God be in my heart'. In a paper for the Explorers Group, I noted that 'a crucial factor in addressing the whole issue is that faith and belief are not primarily intellectual matters. They arise from the depths of our psyche. This was superbly expressed by Blaise Pascal: "The heart has its reasons, which reason does not know. We feel it in a thousand things. It is the heart which experiences God, and not the reason. This, then, is faith: God felt by the heart, not by the reason". So the God debate will never be settled in the court of "Faith and Reason" columns in the manner in which it has so far been conducted.'
But finally, since this has turned into a meditation on an old hymn as much as on the current theist/atheist debate, we should consider the closing line of the hymn: 'God be at mine end, and at my departing.' From asking God to be in all the present aspects of life, it abruptly anticipates a need for God to be at the overwhelming event of death. We may well agree (with James Morrow) that the saying 'There are no atheists in foxholes' isn't an argument against atheism, but an argument against foxholes. Nevertheless, human mortality is an undeniable factor in faith formation. Even so, the inscrutable ambiguity of phrases such as 'the departed' should help us to soar above divisive analytical arguments to a much more mystical appreciation of what goes on in our heads and hearts, whether or not that be 'the true light which enlightens everyone' (John 1:9). So let God be, in whatever way he happens to be.
David Kitchingman