In Whose Image?

Expanding Our Boundaries

What might that mean, “In His image?”

Since we have no idea what “He” looks like, or even if “She” can be said to look like, well, certainly like anyone, if anything, to imagine some sort of reflection of our own appearance is not only absurd, but, by the standards of most religion, blasphemous.

Yet, since my mind works in narrow terms, I like to imagine we’re all in God’s image.

I have this stone sculpture on my bureau

of an old Mdala, Shona for a wise man. It was given to me when we were living in Zimbabwe, and reminds me of the wise old people there I was blessed to have encountered. Now that I’m old, I especially appreciate a culture that reveres age, rather than regarding us as taking up space and air from younger, more productive people.

I picked up this image

of a Moor, when we were in Spain.

My cousin, who researches our family origin, discovered that we aren’t originally English as we’d thought (is anyone originally English?), but descended from Iberians who emigrated from Africa over the Pyrenees.

Our forebears learned there was commerce, prosperity, up north, and took the long trek in search of prosperity. You could say we’re still on that trek.

Best of all, we’ve created a legend about the origin of our surname, Colmore.

We say the name comes from the head and collar of the Moor, or Col more. So we owe that fellow our very identity.

As for being made in God’s image, if we can make anything of that, it has to mean we’re created by, for, and of Love.