Can God make a stone so heavy that even God cannot lift it?
It's an odd kind of question. It reminds me somewhat of the question that the Pharisees presented to Jesus.
It was one of those questions that is meant to be very clever. Matthew 22:15 tells us that “[t]he Pharisees went out and laid plans to trap [Jesus] in his words.”
They asked, “Is it right to pay taxes to Caesar or not?”
It sounded like a straightforward question, except the Pharisees had taken the Herodians with them to ask it. This meant that it was a question where either a “yes” or a “no” was likely to get Jesus into hot water.
Say “Yes, taxes should be paid to Caesar,” and the Pharisees, who were fiercely nationalistic, would denounce Jesus to the Jews as being disloyal to his nation.
Say “No, taxes should not be paid to Caesar,” and the Herodians would report Jesus to the Roman governor for treason.
Jesus recognised their intent and addressed it first: “You hypocrites, why are you trying to trap me?”
He held up a coin and asked them in return whose face was on it.
“Caesar's of course,” they answered.
Jesus then replied, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar's, and to God what is God's.”
What would Jesus say if we asked him whether God could make a stone so heavy that even God could not lift it?
Here's a question that would really stump him. There would be no getting out of this one!
I think Jesus might just say, “Have you learnt nothing?”
This would be highly dissatisfying. The Pharisees and Herodians, after all, did get some kind of answer.
However, is this what the Pharisees and Herodians were really after? An answer? Were they seriously puzzled about whether or not to pay taxes? The Bible tells us that their intention was to trap Jesus, not to seek advice about matters of civic duty.
What are our intentions in asking such questions? Are we similarly trying to trap God into admitting that perhaps he's not all-powerful?
Maybe not. Maybe there are some people out there who are genuinely perplexed about the question.
When it is said that God is all-powerful, what exactly is meant? It may not be so much a matter of disputing God's power as much as clarifying the issue.
Can God make a square circle? What if the answer is “no”? “No, God cannot make a square circle.” Does this render our understanding of an all-powerful God implausible?
Presumably not. The question, it seems, has more to say about the nature of our language and the way we define our terms than in does about the nature of God.
To some extent, then, questions that assist us in clarifying our ideas have some merit.
But how much merit? I think the answer to this, like the question to Jesus, depends on one's intention in asking such questions.
No doubt the Pharisees and Herodians thought it an utter waste of their time and effort. Indeed it may have been better for them to have forgone their question entirely and spared themselves embarassment.
If our intention is to trap God, or even to demonstrate that He doesn't exist, then, in some manner, we may actually get what we want. After all, it is possible to rationalise our pre-existent beliefs.
But where would this leave God? How does our belief impact on God's existence? God could happily go on existing regardless of disbelief.
What if our intention was not so ambitious? What if we weren't questioning God's existence so much as questioning whether he is all-powerful?
Maybe our questions can shed light on the nature of God. If God can't make a stone so heavy that he can't lift it, or if God can't make a square circle, maybe he isn't all-powerful.
As I suggested above, perhaps the question says more about us and our language than it does about God's nature. So what do we do if we want to understand God's nature?
I think the question of intention can go deeper. Why would we want to understand God's nature? Is it like wanting to know the nature of an atom of oxygen? Or is it, perhaps, more like wanting to get to know the nature of another person?
We can certainly attempt to understand the nature of another person in terms similar to that of understanding an atom, but to do this would be to dehumanise the person. It would strip off much of what we mean by the nature of a person—that is, their character, their personality, their sense of humour, their loves and hates, their hopes and dreams. If one were to strip away such considerations, much of value—possibly the very value of a person—is taken away.
I think there is the danger that we do the same thing with God.
Yet what's so amazing about God is that he makes our task of understanding his nature relatively easy. He tells us what he is like. He reveals his nature to us in the Bible.
He tells us that he is incredibly loving and this is borne out by his action in sending his only son, Jesus, to die in our place.
In having Jesus take our penalty for rejecting God, we are made clean and are given the opportunity to be in relationship with our creator.
What better way to get to know a person than to be in relationship with them?
And who better to be in relationship with than God our creator?
The opportunity is there to know God personally and to experience his amazing love. The opportunity is there to know God's loves and dislikes—to know his plans and intentions.
When one can have such knowledge, the question of whether God can create a stone so heavy that even he can't lift it seems short of the mark in terms of understanding God.
Anita knows God personally; she and he often get together for breakfast.
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