This week, Andrew Taylor-Troutman reflects on words that guide people of faith. Find his blog series here.
In a poem, author Brian Doyle wrote, “Wondering why the definitions of love are so often also the definitions of pain.” That is a paradox.
Derived from the Greek para- (contrary to) and dokein (to think, seem or appear), a paradox is something that can’t possibly be true. Except, of course, that it is. Physicist Niels Bohr said that the opposite of a profound truth may be another profound truth.
The Christian faith is full of paradox: God is three in one and one in three; Jesus is at once fully human and fully divine; the kingdom of heaven is at hand and still to come. To me, at no point is paradox more wonderful than at Christmas: The Creator was born just like everyone else; the Savior has come as a defenseless child. How can such things be true?
We should never try to resolve the mystery through sophisticated theological language. That’s why my favorite Christmas hymn is “The Little Drummer Boy.” Maybe “hymn” is not the right term. The protagonist of the song is not found in the Bible. Nor does the plot make a lick of sense. I have had three newborns in my home and would certainly not want any drumming to wake the baby!
But you don’t have to know any Christian doctrine or dogma to know that something is profoundly moving — something like love or pain or a baby’s heartbeat. Pa rum pum pum pum.
The paradox that you can’t possibly put into words what you deeply feel. Maybe that’s the paradoxical genius of the Word made flesh.
ANDREW TAYLOR-TROUTMAN is the pastor of Chapel in the Pines Presbyterian Church in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, and the author of “Gently Between the Words: Essays and Poems.” He and his wife, who is also a pastor, are rattled and blessed by parenting three young children.
