There’s not a whole lot one can do with ancient Aramaic or Koine Greek except be Indiana Jones or get a diploma in theology and religion. I wanted the former. I got the latter. I forget why.
My godfather was an Independent Baptist preacher. As a child I spent time in Methodist, Pentecostal and Holiness churches. I went to a Southern Baptist college. During graduate school I attended mass at a Roman Catholic Church because I was so moved by the building itself and the community priest – a Hasidic Jew, raised Scottish Presbyterian, who became Roman Catholic. All of my friends were Jewish or Muslim. They went to Temple and Mosque. I went to Church. I was the only Christian in the lot.
My sister and I, both women of faith, are prone to discussions about native peoples and how often history sees them slaughtered in the name of holy. I think “The Great Divorce” is one of the most thought-provoking pieces of literature ever written. I believe Mark Twain makes a much more convincing atheist than Professor Dawkins. I follow Christ. But the most Christ-Like person I know is a Buddhist. My mother is shocked at this suggestion. The fact remains.
Then, there’s Einstein.
The man who loved Mozart but couldn’t abide socks. Who wore motorcycle jackets and smoked cigars. Who painted fantastically beautiful images of Eternity and the Mystery that surrounds it.
A few years ago Krista Tippett put together the program: “Einstein and the Mind of God”. I’ll just refer you to the piece itself because, like both its namesakes, it’s too complex for someone like me to explain.
Einstein was an extraordinary writer who penned some of the most moving essays and correspondence you’ll ever read. Put aside his theories on space and time and relativity and you see a man who recognized the divine nature of the universe we live in and all the unknown beyond it.
I can believe in an ever expanding universe and the laws that govern it while still being faithful to the Mystery behind it. The more I learn about Eintstein’s God, the clearer I see my own.