Cross Roads by William P. Young Page B

understanding was that
essentially
, and I use that word carefully, essentially the one was singular in essence and yet a plurality of persons, a community.”
    “But…” Again Jesus raised his hand and Tony quieted.
    “This is a gross oversimplification, but the Greeks, whom I love dearly, beginning especially with Plato and Aristotle, got the world consumed in thinking about the one God, but they didn’t get the plurality part, so they opted for an indivisible singularity beyond all being and relationship, an unmoved mover, impersonal and unapproachable but at least good, whatever that meant.”
    “And then I show up, in no way contradicting the Shema, but expanding on it. I declared in the simplest possible terms, ‘The Father and I are one and we are good,’ which is essentially a relational declaration. As you probably know, that solved everything, and finally the religious got their ideologies and doctrines straight and everyone agreed and lived happily…” Jesus glanced at Tony, who was looking at him, his eyebrows raised in question.
    “I’m being sarcastic, Tony.” He grinned as they again turned and continued to walk.
    “To stay with my story, in the first few hundred years after my incarnation, there were many, like Irenaeus and Athanasius, who got it. They saw that God’s very being is relational, three distinct persons who are so wonderfully close we are oneness. ‘Oneness,’ Tony, is different than an isolated and independent ‘one,’ and the difference is relationship, three persons distinctly together.”
    Jesus paused.
    Tony shook his head, trying to grasp what Jesus had said. This was a conversation like none he could remember, and that bothered him. He was intrigued but not surewhy. “Would you like to know what happened next? Where things went sideways?”
    Tony nodded and Jesus continued.
    “The Greeks, with their love for isolation, influence Augustine and later Aquinas, to name only a couple, and a nonrelational religious Christianity is born. Along come the Reformers, like Luther and Calvin, who do their best to send the Greeks back outside the Holy of Holies, but they are barely in the grave before the Greeks are resuscitated and invited back to teach in their schools of religion. The tenacity of bad ideas is rather remarkable, don’t you think?”
    “I’m starting to realize that,” admitted Tony, “but I’m not sure I understand any better than when you started. It’s all fascinating but irrelevant to me.”
    “Ah, all you need to know is this: at the heart of all existence is a great dance of self-giving, other-centered love—oneness. Nothing is deeper, simpler, and purer.”
    “That sounds beautiful; if only it were—”
    “Look, we’re here,” interrupted Jesus. The pathway entered a grove of trees and narrowed until only wide enough for one person. Tony led the way, grateful that the trail did not deviate. As he broke from the trees and into a glade, he realized he was alone. The clearing butted up against a massive boundary of stone that stretched almost out of sight. An earthen stairway climbed up to an insignificant mud building, a hovel, maybe large enough for two rooms but from which the entire valley could be viewed. He made out the silhouette of a woman sitting on a wooden bench and resting against the wall of what he presumed was her dwelling. The Jesus-man already stood talking to her, his hand lovingly resting on her shoulder.
    As Tony climbed the hundred or so steps he could seeshe was an elderly round woman, jet-black hair falling in two braids wrapped in faceted cut beads of many colors. She wore a simple flowing calico dress, tightened by an ornate belt of more beads, and a sunburst starquilt blanket draped around her shoulders. Her eyes were closed, her face upturned. She was an Indian, a Native American or First Nations woman.
    “Anthony,” greeted Jesus as Tony approached the pair, “this is Wiyan Wanagi. You can call her Kusi (kuen-shee), or