new wells, old water

in her essay "to speak of god from more than one place: theological reflections from the experience of migration," nancy bedford writes of the locus theologicus ("the place where god is manifested in a special way") and peoples' conceptions of god metaphorically as water from a well. "certainly we need to drink from our own wells...but what happens when those wells are left behind...do we carry bottled water with us--or will the water become stale? do we drink virtual water using communication technologies...do we get inebriated on water from our wells when we are able to visit our places of origin? can we dig new wells, and are they somehow less hydrating by virtue of the water quality abroad?...where or how can we situate ourselves to speak meaningfully of god?"

bedford is writing specifically about the experiences of migrants in a physical sense, but I'm thinking of migration too in a theological or philosophical sense--if we experience the world differently than we used to and that changes our view of god and religion and spirit, do we need to reconcile that with how we used to see the world? for instance, as an atheist do I need to meld my current view of theology with my upbringing as a seventh day adventist?

the short answer, I think, is I can't help but do so. even if we deny or react violently against our old beliefs we're reconciling the two in some way. I don't react against my conservative deist background, I see people and the world in a different way than I did then, and I like to think I understand the fright some conservative deists feel when confronted with a world or an experience that doesn't conform with the way they've been accustomed to seeing life. on the other hand, I am not that person any longer except in ways that I can't help changing--when I listen to brother r.g. stair or chuck swindoll, even at their most angry and denouncitory, I see the faces of people I loved, and even my parents (who share some of the same convictions, even if they don't talk about them as often).

unitarian universalists are often guilty of defining ourselves negatively, by what we don't believe rather than by our convictions. even as someone who watches out for such faults, I find myself contrasting statements I hear or come up against by saying, inwardly, "I don't accept that," rather than, say, "I accept this." I don't think that's unusual for anyone who has moved from one form of belief to another. I think that, like it or not, we often carry around those bottles of stale water we collected a long time ago, and in the course of digging those new wells from which to drink, it would be best if we poured the remaining liquid into them, letting the waters merge.