Stream of Unctuousness

GOD, but not the First Tycoon of capitalistic theology whose favor is measured in the standard of living index who fuels the desires of his insatiable fossils of redemption with promises of unlimited consumption and relentless reassurances of an unscathed self and for whose sakes stacks the NASDAQ and takes offense at judgment of his chosen whether from nuke-toting regimes or frothing street-corneresque embarrassments or his own spasms of indignation due to lapses of covenant memory, nor the abstract Providence of the enlightened with its benevolent indifference and utter confidence in our rational ability to extricate ourselves from the moral morass that sticks like tar to the soles of our souls, nor the semi-deity of the sentimental arms knock knock knocking on the door of our hearts simpering for entrance who meanwhile smiles his permissive smile upon children with spiritual ADHD, Biblical dyslexia, and ever-festering dysfunctions due to feelings of low self-worth, not these gods, but rather the terrifying immanence of inapproachable light from whose visage the heavens and earth will flee mortified, whose glory is incomprehensible and whose being has no reference but itself, who annihilates all knowledge but himself, whose implacable will drives the cosmos (how insufficient a word) toward an inevitable consummation that unravels one mystery only to reveal an infinite store of that which cannot be known, that God IS, a verb used to connect the subject with its predicate, which is a ludicrous presumption when the subject is by definition unbounded, the 3rd person present singular of be that means to exist or live, to take place or occur, to occupy a place or position, to continue or remain as before, which, when audaciously linked to the Subject, absolute and numinous, is subsumed in all these meanings, the subject of which, like a super nova, obliterates all dependencies, contingencies, and even the remaining singularity that the simple word “is” is so that there survives no point of reference against which to measure divine being, nothing, as Isaiah knew, to which it can be compared, no simile, no metaphor, no concept found to which the linking verb can be linked, a verb which nonetheless somehow enables a categorically impossible knowledge, a word which, itself a grammatically necessary emptiness, arcs across an infinite gap and, like “action at a distance” in physics which is the interaction of two objects separated in space with no known mediator of the interaction, this verb affects like spirit a profound, fathomless, impossible perception of that which humans have always longed for, have sought for, have fought for, have died for and for lack of, that without which there would be no stars, no ebb of tide, no dawn, no broken heart, no sacrifice, no something, this which we must have but cannot attain, this which has no other corollary or advent but the first and only begotten Subject emptied of itself and poured into the is of nothing, this astonishing, incalculable, incarnate predicate called LOVE.