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Wearing God: Clothing, Laughter, Fire, and…
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Wearing God: Clothing, Laughter, Fire, and Other Overlooked Ways of Meeting God (2015 original; edición 2015)

por Lauren F. Winner (Autor)

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1773152,859 (3.96)1
Lauren F. Winner--a leading writer at the crossroads of culture and spirituality and author of Still and Girl Meets God--joins the ranks of luminaries such as Anne Lamott and Barbara Brown Taylor with this exploration of little known--and, so, little used--biblical metaphors for God, metaphors which can open new doorways for our lives and spiritualities. There are hundreds of metaphors for God, but the church only uses a few familiar images: creator, judge, savior, father. In Wearing God, Lauren Winner gathers a number of lesser-known tropes, reflecting on how they work biblically and culturally, and reveals how they can deepen our spiritual lives. Exploring the notion of God as clothing, Winner reflects on how we are "clothed with Christ" or how "God fits us like a garment." She then analyzes how clothing functions culturally to shape our ideals and identify our community, and ruminates on how this new metaphor can function to create new possibilities for our lives. For each biblical metaphor--God as the vine/vintner who animates life; the lactation consultant; and the comedian, showing us our follies, for example--Winner surveys the historical, literary, and cultural landscapes in order to revive and heal our souls.… (más)
Miembro:DubiousDisciple
Título:Wearing God: Clothing, Laughter, Fire, and Other Overlooked Ways of Meeting God
Autores:Lauren F. Winner (Autor)
Información:HarperOne (2015), 304 pages
Colecciones:Tu biblioteca
Valoración:****
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Wearing God: Clothing, Laughter, Fire, and Other Overlooked Ways of Meeting God por Lauren F. Winner (2015)

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This is a book which I thoroughly enjoyed. By way of honesty, I obtained this book from my local library before I became aware of the author being appointed vicar of our Episcopal parish in Durham. So, I actually now know the author, which is a very infrequent situation since my time on LibraryThing,com (December 2006).
Lauren Winner is an Episcopal priest and part-time Divinity Professor at Duke University. My parish abuts the campus. The subtitle gives a good hint of what this volume is about. But it is useful to give a full list of her chapter her chapter headings.
.The God Who Runs after Your Friendship.
.A Short Note on Gender and Language for God.
.Clothing.
.Bread and Vine.
.Laboring Woman.
.Laughter.
.Flame.
.In This Poverty of Expression, Thou Findest That He Is All.
There is also "A Short Note from the Women's Prison" (an additional ministry of hers), a short bibliography, copious notes (which are not easy to look uo), and Acknowledgments; but no index.
Within the chapters there is a nice feature where Winner presents a welcome quote from somebody else that illustrates her theme (even 20 lines of text in a few cases).
I began taking notes while reading this book. I resonate with God as friend and the mention of John Chrysostom's who deems saints and the poor to be natural friends. For me, God is somewhat discontinuous and I am still reconciling the idea of the friendly go and the fearful God. I can understand John Donne saying that God needs to b met with literally and metaphorically.
I began to think about my father's death in 1951 when I was 6 and noticed my mother wearing black clothes and a veil. And then all my relatives did too. But I am not sure I wore black. I think this lasted 6 months. However, my mother did not want me or my sister to see my dad laid out in my grandmother's house. We were kept in separate room. The upshot was my dad came to me in a dream and we played together, but then he told me that he would not see me again until I died many years later.
With the running that Lauren did when she ran between classes, I began to muse on taking up race walking at age 40 while dating my wife. And then becoming competitive and athletic. Later on when I was 74, I had my cancerous bladder removed and found that I no longer struggled with weighing more than I should, and not having to worry about blood pressure.
Talking about bread, as a 14 year old teen and having a growth spurt, I decided I needed to eat a breakfast of two slices of toasted cracked wheat bread with Planter's peanut butter spread on it along with crumbled up bacon but not crispy every day. So, my mother actually complied, but I had to do all the work, which I did for maybe 9 months.
Further on bread, my great aunt who lived on Cape Cod liked anadama bread a lot (it's made with 30% corn flour). I got attracted to oatcakes in the 1970's, maybe because of my Scottish ancestry and had to purchase them from the great Wanamaker's Department Store when I lived in Philadelphia. The best focaccia bread we found was at an Italian market in Indianapolis, but all kinds of bread were a highlight in Indianapolis. My sister when younger baked a lot of bread and remember a party where we passed various breads around (and wine) a sort of informal eucharist.
I don't have a direct experience of birthing, but some yoga poses stretch my mid-body with some pain (like trying to do splits).
For flame, I'm reminded that the the incense pot is huge at Compostela in NW Spain and is swung from the rafters at the Cathedral (St James or Santiago). And for Easter vigil churches light a flame near the beginning of the service.
I like the prayer from Pseudo-Dionysus in the paragraph about apophatic theology. The footnote is interesting to read about Deys Turner and Abp Roawan Williams. And I'm reminded of St John of the Cross and his poetry of unknowing.
Finally, I might add my favorite quote from the Bible is Hebrew 11:1 -- Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. We need various experiences and objects, metaphor perhaps, as we attempt to grasp God. Wimmer is a great guide for these things. ( )
  vpfluke | Aug 15, 2021 |
How we talk about God matters.

When we call God our “friend,” it invites a new perspective. Or take a cue from several Biblical passages and try thinking of God in female terms. Calling God “She” can feel uncomfortable, especially if we have old-fashioned ideas about God, but breaking old molds may help us grow.

Winner’s book is not post-modern. It’s respectful, creative, a bit fanciful (though I’m not sure it means to be). The title, Wearing God, stems from thinking about God as clothing. Huh? Yes, it’s Biblical–this image comes from Galatians 3: “As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourself with Christ.” With further chapters about God as smell, as bread and vine, as a laboring woman, laughter, and as flame, Winner opens our mind to an all-pervading God, one who is in and around us in all things.

Wait, did I say “smell?” Yes … God smells, in both senses of the word. God smells our offerings, and He is himself a fragrance. He gave himself on the cross as a “sweet-smelling savour” (KJV).

I think this is a comforting and appropriate book for Christians of all persuasions.

HarperCollins, © 2015, 286 pages

ISBN: 978-0-06-176812-5 ( )
  DubiousDisciple | Oct 21, 2015 |
B&C 5-6/15 review of Wearing God--Clothing, Laughter, and Other Overlooked Ways of Meeting God written by Lauren F. Winner reviewed by Rachel Marie Stone

"Endlessly Overflowing"
An invitation to sacramental wonder.

________________________________________________________________________________________________
(excerpts)

But how does a child learn to reckon God as more beautiful, more awe-inspiring, more iridescent than the countless sparkles that dance upon the surface of the water at dawn and dusk unless she first learns to love these beautiful things themselves? Is not the world itself "charged with the grandeur of God" to "flame out like shining from shook foil"?

An admirable humility characterizes the book throughout. Winner is exceptionally well-read and unusually gifted with words, and it is precisely these qualities that make credible her caution against assuming the total adequacy of any particular metaphor for the divine.

In offering these images for our consideration, Winner shows that the things of earth needn't grow strangely dim in order for us to see God; we can see aspects of God's ultimately ineffable nature precisely in the things of this earth. To imagine God as clothing—as the kind of clothing that, like a school uniform, downplays distinction and promotes unity; as a comfortable garment that hugs bodies close and covers whatever shame we carry—is to imagine and perhaps experience the immanence of the transcendent.

But images of God as Mother are as old as Isaiah and older than the church. Winner does not invoke them for shock value or to advance a particular agenda but rather to underline that the Bible insistently reminds us of the inadequacy of any single metaphor or family of metaphors for the God who will always exceed our grasp.
________________________________________________________________________________________________

Like many children, I loved iridescent things—glitter, tinsel, the sparkles on the bay at sunset, jewelry. One of my cherished possessions was an impossibly tiny gold chain necklace graced by an equally tiny pendant consisting of a chip of a diamond set in fragments of white gold. It was given me by a faithful, much-beloved, and too-soon-departed saint of our congregation, a woman who rocked me and sang to me in the church nursery so that my barely adult parents could go to Bible studies and counseling sessions and grow in their fledgling faith. A few weeks before her death, she called me to wish me a happy third birthday. Her strained and tired voice, coming through the yellow rotary phone, spoke of her love for me—and gave me my earliest clear memory.

Years after her death, someone else gave me a glittering necklace of plastic beads with a glass heart pendant, which held a small quantity of cheap fragrance. As I readied for church one Sunday, I left the diamond-and-gold necklace on top of my dresser and put on the glass one. In my absence, the cat batted it off the dresser. Weeks later it turned up, crushed, tangled, and seemingly irreparable. My grief and guilt were considerable.

Now I can see that there may have been a parable of sorts in my forsaking gold and diamonds for plastic, but then, my faith was of the sort which suggested that to set much store in beautiful but ultimately frivolous things was spiritually unsound. So I tried to talk myself out of my sadness. Even so, whenever the hymn implored me to

Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in his wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of his glory and grace

I pictured my beautiful "things of earth"—my destroyed jewelry, my sequined sweaters, the shimmer of the Long Island Sound I so deeply loved—and felt a little guilty, because, much as I loved Jesus, those beautiful things never did seem to grow strangely dim. Instead they remained bright and appealing, perhaps especially when I felt I was being asked not to delight in them.

But how does a child learn to reckon God as more beautiful, more awe-inspiring, more iridescent than the countless sparkles that dance upon the surface of the water at dawn and dusk unless she first learns to love these beautiful things themselves? Is not the world itself "charged with the grandeur of God" to "flame out like shining from shook foil"?

Winner is exceptionally well-read and unusually gifted with words, and it is precisely these qualities that make credible her caution against assuming the total adequacy of any particular metaphor for the divine.

"Everything I see of the heavens, I know by the earth." So wrote Pattiann Rogers, quoted in the epigraph to Lauren Winner's newest book, Wearing God, a delightful invitation to practice sacramental wonder: to see, perhaps, that a love of luminous things, of a certain slant of light, is not a distraction from God. Rather, Winner says, "you can discover things about God by looking around your ordinary, everyday life." This, she suggests, is an invitation the Bible itself offers to us. While many of our church traditions "hew closely to two or three favored images of God, turning to them in prayer and song and sermon," Scripture—not to mention the church throughout history—suggests hundreds of metaphors for our consideration and contemplation, many of which are as near to us as our own skin, our clothes.

Winner, who has chronicled her spiritual pilgrimage in three previous books, confesses that only recently has what she calls the Bible's "endlessly overflowing" quality impressed itself on her. As she "began to be awake to the Scriptures" in a new way, Winner recognized the inadequacy of her mental image of God: "some combination of sage professor and boyfriend." That didn't satisfy her any more, given the "voluble and variable witness of the Scriptures."

An admirable humility characterizes the book throughout. Winner is exceptionally well-read and unusually gifted with words, and it is precisely these qualities that make credible her caution against assuming the total adequacy of any particular metaphor for the divine. The book carefully honors the apophatic at its opening and its close: "maybe … the best way to speak about God [is] to say and then unsay whatever we say." This would smack of evasiveness were it not for Winner's thoughtful exploration of oft-neglected scriptural metaphors for the divine: clothing, fragrance, laboring woman, bread and vine, flame. "Each image," Winner writes, "invites a different response from us," a different way of being "friends with God." God is bread and the One who offers the bread; God is clothing, the One who clothes, and the One who invites us to share in his work of clothing those in need. God is the One who births, the One birthed, and the One who assists the birth.

In offering these images for our consideration, Winner shows that the things of earth needn't grow strangely dim in order for us to see God; we can see aspects of God's ultimately ineffable nature precisely in the things of this earth. To imagine God as clothing—as the kind of clothing that, like a school uniform, downplays distinction and promotes unity; as a comfortable garment that hugs bodies close and covers whatever shame we carry—is to imagine and perhaps experience the immanence of the transcendent.

Some readers may take the event of this book's publication as an opportunity to denounce Winner as heretical, while others will merely patronize her as confused, trendy, lacking the proper rigor; throughout, she reverently and thoughtfully uses both feminine and masculine pronouns for God. But images of God as Mother are as old as Isaiah and older than the church. Winner does not invoke them for shock value or to advance a particular agenda but rather to underline that the Bible insistently reminds us of the inadequacy of any single metaphor or family of metaphors for the God who will always exceed our grasp.

And Wearing God is pastorally grounded. Throughout the book, Winner draws on her weekly work teaching in a women's prison near Duke Divinity School, where she is a professor. At any given time, 6-10 percent of incarcerated women in the United States are pregnant, Winner notes. What does it look like for God to be with them, in their identical prison uniforms, shackled in childbirth? Winner reflects that the first images that come to her mind when she considers many familiar biblical metaphors (white upper-middle-class versions of bread and wine and breastfeeding and clothing) are quite distant from the experience of her prison students.

But the reality of the living God—at once the Creator of all that is, utterly beyond our ken; the Savior who came among us; and the Spirit indwelling us—challenges the understanding of all people, everywhere, whatever their circumstances (most definitely including those who have been brought up in Christian settings). "Would I prefer a God who lives as I try to live—mostly in my head?" Winner asks, musing that "the lectionary crafters [must have found Isaiah's] picture of God squatting and grunting [in labor] as discomfiting as I do." The Bible, in its endlessly overflowing language, does not share our squeamishness. It can still surprise and unsettle us. Winner's book is a winsome prod to regard Scripture—and the world around us—afresh, again and again, and, in so doing, to renew our sense of wonder and strengthen our friendship with God.

Wearing God made me think of my younger son, who loves the beautiful things of nature and culture and is on friendly terms with God. He's often the first one to point out the glittering fractals of frost on the windows, or the watercolor luminescence of a sunset, and to attribute it to God's paintbrush, God's ice-sculpture. And he is the first to admire a particularly beautiful piece of jewelry. For him there is no dimness in the things of earth, no need to look away from them to see the glory of God. And perhaps that's as it should be.

Rachel Marie Stone is the author of Eat with Joy: Redeeming God's Gift of Food (InterVarsity Press).

Copyright © 2015 by the author or Christianity Today/Books & Culture magazine.
Click here for reprint information on Books & Culture.
  keithhamblen | Jun 22, 2015 |
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Lauren F. Winner--a leading writer at the crossroads of culture and spirituality and author of Still and Girl Meets God--joins the ranks of luminaries such as Anne Lamott and Barbara Brown Taylor with this exploration of little known--and, so, little used--biblical metaphors for God, metaphors which can open new doorways for our lives and spiritualities. There are hundreds of metaphors for God, but the church only uses a few familiar images: creator, judge, savior, father. In Wearing God, Lauren Winner gathers a number of lesser-known tropes, reflecting on how they work biblically and culturally, and reveals how they can deepen our spiritual lives. Exploring the notion of God as clothing, Winner reflects on how we are "clothed with Christ" or how "God fits us like a garment." She then analyzes how clothing functions culturally to shape our ideals and identify our community, and ruminates on how this new metaphor can function to create new possibilities for our lives. For each biblical metaphor--God as the vine/vintner who animates life; the lactation consultant; and the comedian, showing us our follies, for example--Winner surveys the historical, literary, and cultural landscapes in order to revive and heal our souls.

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