In my last post, I drew an analogy between the sciences of cartography and theology. I explained the similarity in purpose and scope between them, and argued my first point: that reality always transcends the symbols we use to represent it. In this post it is my intention to show, using the same analogy, that the use of symbols to represent any transcendental reality must always result in the distortion of certain parts of that reality.
I wonder how many people grew up as I did, believing wrongly that Greenland and South America are roughly the same size. It is a perfectly understandable mistake to make, looking at the famous Mercator world map, which really does make the two land masses appear nearly equal in area. But it is entirely incorrect. The Mercator world map truly represents the four compass directions at all points, but in doing so necessarily causes extreme size distortion in the northern and southern parts of the world. Greenland, which is represented as being similar in size to South America, is in reality approximately the size of Mexico. The true shape and size of the landforms has been distorted in order to accurately represent true direction; but a map that accurately represented true size and shape could do so only by distorting true direction.
The analogy becomes interesting when distortion in mapmaking is compared to theology. My suggestion (and it is only that, a suggestion) is that a similar principle holds: that trying to theologically ‘map’ one attribute of God will always result in the distortion of his other attributes. Distortion in cartography occurs because the spherical nature of the earth entirely transcends the flatness of a sheet of paper; distortion in theology similarly occurs because the divine nature of God entirely transcends the flatness of human thought and experience. Aquinas pointed out that all thinking about God is analogical—that we can only describe the unknown symbolically in terms of the known. Dorothy Sayers says in her book The Mind of the Maker that
“To forbid the making of pictures about God would be to forbid thinking about God at all, for man is so made that he has no way to think except in pictures.”
Theology deals with ‘pictures’ of God, just as cartography deals with pictures of the world. Pictures represent, but pictures also deceive. Any theological map of God is an analogy from the known to the unknown, and analogies can only be carried so far. There are two things to remember when thinking systematically about God: (1) Every theological system ultimately deceives, and (2) In the world of analogy (though not in reality), contradictions do exist.
Consider again the Mercator world map. The Mercator projection maps the world using one primary requirement: true direction must always be accurately represented. The user of the resulting map can easily and accurately determine North, South, East, West, and any combination thereof using a straightedge. However, if she wants to determine the shortest path between New York and Paris she will not be so well accommodated, because the shortest distance between two points on a Mercator world map is usually not a straight line, but an arc. And if she wants to compare the relative sizes of Alaska and Australia she will find the map to be of little use whatsoever due to the size distortion at higher latitudes. Thus the map is useful for certain things, and worthless for others.
Fortunately, the Mercator projection is not the only one available. The Gnomonic projection, for example, maps portions of the earth in such a way that the shortest distance between two points is always a straight line. This is useful in some cases for navigators planning travel routes, but comes only at the cost of severely distorting the size and shape of landmasses, and representing the directions of East and West as curved lines. Many other projection systems exist, as well. Some of them try, like the Mercator and Gnomonic systems, to get just one thing right and accept the distortion of everything else, and others try to avoid serious distortion at certain points by allowing a mild distortion in everything. It is rather like pushing down bubbles in a sheet of cellophane—they always come back up in other places.
I here restate my suggestion: Trying to theologically map one aspect of God’s divine nature will always result in the distortion of the other aspects. Perhaps the best and most well-known example of this can be seen in the age-old debate between Calvinism and Arminianism over predestination and free will. Calvinism chooses to map divine nature in such a way that it is always clear that God is in control of things. Just as the Mercator world map always shows true direction, the Calvinist theological map always shows God’s sovereignty. God is clearly and accurately pictured in Calvinism as being totally holy, and in total control of everything, but in so picturing him everything else gets distorted. The ‘doctrine of limited atonement’ makes God appear arbitrary and evil, like a father who loves two of his undeserving children at random, and locks the other seven up in the basement to be tortured. The ‘doctrine of irresistible grace’ makes man out to be robotic, destroying our knowledge of choice. In making God look perfectly holy there is no room left to see him as perfectly loving, and in making him look perfectly sovereign there is no room left for us to be human.
The distortion, however, becomes just as bad when the divine nature is mapped giving primary consideration to other aspects. The counterpart to Calvinism, Arminianism, focuses on showing, very truly, that God’s love is not arbitrary, and that he really has given man the freedom of choice. But again, ‘getting these things right’ results in getting everything else more or less wrong. The ‘doctrine of human ability’ makes it look as if those people who accept God have the right to self-congratulation on their superior choice—that they merited their salvation; and the ‘doctrine of conditional election’ makes it look as if God’s will can be thwarted by humans. Looking at our God-given humanity seems to leave no room for God’s sovereignty.
Most of the major theological arguments within Christianity can be examined this way. People disagree violently on what the most important thing about God is: some say that it is his holiness, others that it is his love; some that it his sovereignty, others that it is his extension of free will to man. I suspect that the argument is a rather silly one, like a bunch of explorers arguing about whether a straight line on the surface of the earth represents true direction or shortest distance, never realizing that in reality both are true, and that the contradiction exists only in their symbolic maps. In the same way, there is no ‘most important thing about God’; there is just God. I AM WHO I AM is a statement of profound simplicity. We may understand him only in contradictory terms, but in him there is no contradiction—the paradox only shows the imperfection of our symbolic thought.
I want to end by making clear what I am NOT saying. I am not suggesting that theology should not be discussed or argued about, any more than I would suggest that all atlases be thrown out because all maps distort. I am also not suggesting that just because more than one theological system may be true, that they are all therefore true. I accept a number of different map-projection systems; but I would not accept one that put Hawaii off the coast of Italy. God has given us tools for sorting out truth from lies: among them are reason, intuition, and moral conscience, but superior to them all is love. Without love, theology only makes men worse, and I am certain that love in its purest form has no need whatsoever for theology. In our present state, though, the two ought to complement each other and test each other.
When perfection comes, the imperfect disappears…
Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
