god is no noun
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god is no noun.
and certainly not an adjective.
god is at least a verb,
and even that shrinks her.
god is not so much a woman
as she resides in the improbable
hope of brown mothers.
god is not so much a man
as he is at work in the memory
of my grandfather’s laugh.
god is not trans.
god swims in the tears
of the one who sees
her real self,
at long last,
in the bathroom mirror.
god is not black; neither is he white.
god is wading in the contradiction of songs from slave shacks.
and I have seen god in the alabaster smiles
of children at play.
we’re getting michelangelo all wrong.
god is not the bearded one surrounded by angels,
floating over the sistine.
he is not adam with his muscled back pressing the earth.
no.
god is the closing inch of space
between their reaching fingers.
don’t believe for a moment that god is catholic.
for god’s sake, he isn’t even human.
have you heard the wood thrush
when the sun glistens the huron?
can you see the flowers,
how they speak to bees without a word?
still, god is no spring blossom, no wood thrush.
god is neither the sun nor the bee.
god is what you see in the blossom.
god is when you hear the river
and suddenly discover how
much of it is part of you.
to be clear,
god is not you.
god is somewhere in the 14 billion years
which have come to mean that you are.
god is, after all, at least a verb.
she is neither pharaoh’s rod nor moses’ staff.
we must be the ones to cease our slavery.
she is not interested in blame, neither does she offer praise. truth, gratitude are ours to breathe.
she will not have your answers.
she is too large for answers.
she dances too wildly to be fastened to them,
and answers are nouns anyway.
god is at least a verb,
twirling in the radiant reds of spring
blossoms,
singing in the rare silences between rapid opinions,
attending the tears of dark-skinned deaths, learning in tiny, alabaster smiles.
god is waiting in the space between fingers
that might connect.
he is waiting for us
to stop naming her.
she is waiting for us to
see all of him.
god is waiting
to be un-shrunk
Dr. Rideout worked as assistant conductor for the University of Michigan Chamber Choir in the Grammy-nominated recording of Darius Milhaud’s opera trilogy, Orestie Eschyle. His work with community choruses has been recognized and supported by the National Endowment for the Arts. In 2012, patrons David and Nancy Lyman endowed the Glen Thomas Rideout Vocal Scholarship for aspiring musicians attending the University of Michigan’s MPulse Summer Institute.
Dr. Rideout is choir director for the 2016 General Assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations, music director for the worship service of Church of the Larger Fellowship, and Sunday morning worship liturgist.
- god is no noun - June 1, 2016
- Prodigal Songs - October 1, 2011
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[…] Reading – god is no noun by Glen Thomas Rideout […]
Dr. Rideout was such an inspiration. A genius of music and directing choruses (especially of note was his amazing direction of the GA Congregational singing!). I’m so glad to have been able to experience him in the CLF service as well as the bigger GA services at General Assembly. Remarkable genius. (Oh and he has amazing poetic skill, on top of it all!)
Gorgeous poem. Gorgeous God. Thankful to Rideout for his part in UU GA worship too!