We wonder, we guess, we speculate, we conceptualize, but we are never able (nor will we ever be) to fully grasp the wonder of God. In fact, we’re never able to fully grasp the wonder of another person. Even further, I’m not sure we ever really grasp the wonder of ourselves. We are beings of our senses and we form what we know through them. Yet they never tell us the whole story, only what we see, hear, taste, touch, or smell; and there is more!
The wonder of You, of others, even of myself is seen as an image, a human form, or in a mirror. But what I see is not the true You, me, or another. Wonders are heard in the leaves rustling in the breeze, in the bird’s song, in music, in dialogue, in my own voice, in radio and TV; but what I hear is not the true You, me, or another. The sun’s warmth, the tingle of falling rain, the charm of a hug, a kiss, a caress all touch and fall short of the depth of You, me, or another. Furthermore, any taste or smell that delights or creates fond memories – nomatter how vivid – cannot fully encompass the truth of You, me, or another. None of these sensual stimuli, no mater how powerful or concentrated, can capture the entire wonder of You, me, or another; not even when they’re all put together.
So, how can I talk about such wonders? What words can be used to frame them? The one faculty that is only “para-sensual” and thus holds forth the greatest possibility, is thought. While based in great part on the senses, thought has the capability of going a little bit beyond the senses as well as a little bit beyond the words we use to describe what is sensed. It entertains wonder and tries to capture it with wordless imagination. This is good, but because of its subjectiveness its accuracy cannot be guaranteed.
Still, the wonder of God, of another, or of myself seems situated more comfortably within imagination than within the sentient. It’s the best we can do with what we’ve got.