An ancient understanding of metaphor

Our starting-point must be the fact that God cannot be named. Not only will deductive arguments prove it, but the wisest Hebrews of antiquity, so far as can be gathered, will too. The ancient Hebrews used special symbols to venerate the divine and did not allow anything inferior to God to be written with the same letters as the word “God,” on the ground that the divine should not be put on even this much of a level with things human. Would they ever have accepted the idea that the uniquely indissoluble nature could be expressed by evanescent speech? No man has yet breathed all the air; no mind has yet contained or language embraced God's substance in its fullness. No, we use facts connected with him to outline qualities that correspond with him, collecting a faint and feeble mental image from various quarters. Our noblest theologian is not one who has discovered the whole – our earthly shackles do not permit us the whole – but one whose mental images is by comparison fuller, who has gathered in his mind a richer picture, outline, or whatever we call it, of the truth.

Some things mentioned in the Bible are not factual; some factual things are not mentioned; some nonfactual things receive no mention there; some things are both factual and mentioned. Do you ask for my proofs here? I am ready to offer them. In the Bible, God “sleeps,” “wakes up,” “is angered,” “walks,” and has “throne of cherubim.” Yet, when has God ever been subject to emotion? When do you ever hear that God is a bodily being? This is a nonfactual, mental picture. We have used names derived from human experience and applied them, so far as we could, to aspects of God. His retirement from us, for reasons known to himself into an almost unconcerned inactivity, is his “sleeping.” Human sleeping, after all, has the character of restful inaction. When he alters and suddenly benefits us, what is his “waking up.” Waking up puts an end to sleep, just as looking at somebody puts an end to turning away from him. We have made his punishing of us his “being angered;” for with us, punishment is born of anger. His acting in different places, we call “walking,” for walking is a transition from one place to another. His abiding among the heavenly powers, making them almost his haunt, we call his “sitting” and “being enthroned;” this too is human language: the divint abies in none as it abides in the saints. God's swift motion we call “flight;” his watching over us is his “face;” his giving and receiving is his “hand.” indeed every faculty or activity of God has given us a corresponding picture in terms of something bodily. (Gregory Nazianzus)

What kind of authority?

Thomas Friedman points out that top-down, centralized, chain-of-command authorities are quickly becoming history as networks of participatory and relational authorities take their place. The shift from established authorities to emerging ones is a process of chaotic cultural reorganization whereby fragmentation is an inevitable part of the journey of change.
In an age of fragmentation, however, many people are tempted to revert to top-down authority as a way of controlling chaos. All the churches I visited are part of denominations in which some interest groups are attempting to centralize doctrine, polity, and praxis as an answer to fractured culture. What if the answer is authentic community? (Diana Butler Bass)