And you —
What do you see as path out of this quandary?
Well if you were Catholic, there are so many places I could lead you ... but as you ain't, all I can suggest is apophatism, and the Poetics of Silence.
The Word speaks from the Silence: The Word spoken in the beginning, in Genesis, is the same Word become flesh in Christ, is the same Word that spoke to Saul on the road to Damascus — and our response is always the same: Who are
you? ... and we can never know who Christ is, unless God reveals Him in our hearts ... and this we receive in silence.
Currently I'm reading "The Darkness of God" and a selection of essays "Silence and the Word" which has led me to Heinrich Bonfoffer, the Lutheran killed by the Nazis in 1945.
"A God who let us prove his existence would be an idol"
This is a point I picked up from apophatism — any name by which we refer to God generates an image, or contextualises the deity — and an image is an idol, yet Christ gave us a name: Father, but Father designates only a relation, in that sense it is impersonal, it tells us nothing about He who is the Father. It does not convey anything like a name (El Shaddai, Jahovah, Jahweh, etc.) not does it convey a quality (Merciful, Boundless, etc.)
In like manner, the name given to Moses on Mount Horeb, 'I am that I am', is equally not a name, but a designation, "I am the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob" or "I am the God of your fathers" doesn't tell us who God is, just what God is in relation to our world.
And again, even the metaphysical transcendentals: The Absolute, The Infinite, The Good, etc., as as idolatrous as Pat, Mel or Marty.
Here's the clincher for me:
"I discovered later, and I'm still discovering right up to this moment, that is it only by living completely in this world that one learns to have faith. By this-worldliness I mean living unreservedly in life's duties, problems, successes and failures. In so doing we throw ourselves completely into the arms of God, taking seriously, not our own sufferings, but those of God in the world. That, I think, is faith."
— Dietrich Bonhoeffer
This correlates with recent texts I have read, by Denys Turner (Catholic) and Andrew Louth (Orthodox), that the contemporary quest for the spiritual is, in fact, the desire to experience 'otherness', and is basically self-serving and the quest for self-satisfaction:
for the real spirituality is not to be found in experience.
(There are historical reasons for this, mostly that the contemporary mindset is far removed from how the medievals saw the world, for example.)
The modern mind pursues the experience of non-experience
The Christian is called to stand before the Darkness of God: to pray before the empty tomb.
I think, in many ways, in their praxis, the Jews have it right.
Thus he or she who says 'I am spiritual, but not religious' is kidding themselves, the idea founded on a false and flawed understanding of what spirituality is. Generally what they seek is the experience of the fullness of their own being. A richer sense of self.
Thus their contempt for 'religion' because they see it as burdensome and demeaning.
But that's where the real spirituality is, in the ordinary, the mundane. That is where the world is, that is where God made us, and put us, not to abscond and float about in some nebulous higher realm. He made angels to do that. He made us to sacralise the material, the mundane, the ordinary, the everyday.
+++
We cannot
know God. We can posit God philosophically, but, as we say, God of the philosophers is not the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. So we can only know God because God comes to us, God has revealed or disclosed Himself in some way, and that way is the Way, but as soon as He does that, He puts Himself in our hands, and then the trouble starts ...
Currently I'm reading Christian Apophatic tradition, and the current thinking throws up some startling notions — not the least being the whole contemporary concept of 'spirituality' and 'mysticism' is fundamentally flawed.
When Thomas Merton, 'the modern mystic' was travelling in the Far East he met, I believe, a Sufi (might have been a Hindu ... doesn't matter). They exchanged a glance, and that glance said more than words could ever adequately express. It did not say "I've made it" but rather "I've sensed it", but what was sensed was beyond saying.
It's a knowing.
Thomas