My favorite gift that I’ve ever received from my wife is the first one she ever gave me – a coffee mug.  It’s not just any coffee mug; my wife is a potter, and this particular mug is one that she made for me, not long after we started dating.  Those who know me know that I’m not the biggest guy in the world, but I do have fairly large hands.  As a result, the handles on most typical coffee mugs are too small for my hands, so I usually end up spinning the mug around and picking it up by the body, rather than by the handle.  This mug, though, is different.  Besides being my favorite color, it was intentionally made with a big handle that fits my hands perfectly.  This is why I like this mug so much; every time I pick it up, it feels like it was made just for me.  Since she has a wheel and kiln at home, I’ve had a number of opportunities to observe my wife making different things, from dishes to vases to mugs, and have come away impressed with her skill, and intrigued by the process. 

Sitting outside the other evening, my wife and a friend (who is also a potter) were chatting about their different pottery projects.  What piqued my interest about their conversation was something that I’ve heard my wife make reference to in the past, that is, the unpredictable and sometimes difficult nature of working with clay.  To someone like me, who is not familiar with working with clay, it seems like clay would be a basic enough substance, a combination of organic material, a little metal oxide, and water, right?  Perhaps that is scientifically true, but as they talked, it almost sounded as if the clay has a mind and will of its own, and working with it entailed something more like a relationship or perhaps a conversation with an entity that could, in a sense, cooperate or push back against the maker, rather than an artist simply exercising their will over a lump of dirt and water.  As a result, the potter (as I understand it) works with intention, but must also work flexibly, allowing the clay to express itself, in a way.  The final product, then, is the result of an ongoing interaction between the intention and skill of the potter, and the behavior of the clay.  I found this concept quite interesting, and illuminating in a way that I didn’t expect. 

In Christianity, the imagery of a potter and clay occurs as a metaphor for the relationship between humanity and God.  This image has several layers of meaning, the most obvious as a representation of the creator (God, the potter) and his creation (humanity, the clay vessels).  As the metaphor goes, God, as creator, has the authority and right to make his vessels (humans) the way that he chooses, and the he can accordingly determine their fate (the type of vessel) as he wills.  Consider the following texts, one each from the Old and New Testament:

Can I not…deal with you as a potter does?” declares the Lord. “Behold, like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in My hand…” (Jeremiah 18:6)

 (W)ho are you, O man, who answers back to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder, “Why did you make me like this,” will it?  Or does not the potter have a right over the clay, to make from the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for common use? (Romans 9:20-21)

For those who are not Christian, this idea occurs also in a secular context in the philosophical concept of determinism.  Determinism essentially holds that all events in human affairs are causally inevitable.  In other words, every event in history since the beginning of the universe has already been predetermined, including every choice you’ve ever made.  During the period of classical/Newtonian physics, determinism in different forms was widely believed to be true.  One could read the noted Bible passages this way, where it seems like they say “God is God and you are not.  And your end is ultimately what God determines it to be, no matter what you do or don’t do.”  Now, this is a very simplistic treatment of determinism; it would be unfair to attempt to summarize it in sentence or two.  However, it is fair to say that, under this view, human free will is constrained at best and nonexistent at worst.  I suspect that this idea doesn’t sit well with most people.  It doesn’t sit well with me, because it seems to me that an essential element of what makes us human is our capacity to reason and make choices.  This also doesn’t fit with my own life experience, where it seems like many of the positive and negative outcomes I’ve experienced were directly influenced by good or bad decisions that I made along the way.  I think most people would agree with this. So, how does that square with the idea of a deterministic God?  Or deterministic Fate, if one prefers?

Perhaps part of the answer lies a bit deeper in the metaphor of the clay.  What if the behavior of the clay indeed influences the potter?  Rather than a view of a simple determination that a particular vessel will be a bowl or a vase, what if we shift our view to consider a maker who makes decisions interactively and responsively with the material?  On one hand, there are deterministic elements of human existence: we have no influence over the fact that we are born at a certain place and time, with certain genetic, physical and mental attributes, and into a certain social, family, and historical context.  On the other hand, we are made to responsively interact with our world, to make choices, and ultimately to shape what kind of person we wish to be.  This process continues throughout life.  If we read into the biblical metaphor a bit further, we do indeed see clues of this idea that God responds to individual behavior in this way:

(T)he potter was there, working away at his wheel. Whenever the pot the potter was working on turned out badly, as sometimes happens when you are working with clay, the potter would simply start over and use the same clay to make another pot. (Jer 18:3-4).

The narrative goes on to expand on this idea, explaining that God is not strictly deterministic, but indeed responds to human behavior:

Watch this potter. In the same way that this potter works his clay, I work on you…I may decide to pull up a people or a country by the roots and get rid of them. But if they repent of their wicked lives, I will think twice and start over with them. At another time I might decide to plant a people or country, but if they don’t cooperate…I will think again and give up on the plans I had for them… (Jer 18:7-10)

The language here is a bit archaic and put into a nationalistic context, but the idea seems to apply to the individual as well.  In this, perhaps we find insight into the apparent tension between human free will and the elements of our existence over which we have no control.  To me, this is a positive and hopeful concept, both in the things I can control and in the things that I can’t.  I feel like, as an individual, I’m the clay vessel that has been reshaped a few times, sometimes in ways that were not pleasant, but were probably necessary.  I’ve also wondered how those experiences relate to the aspects of my existence over which I seemingly have little or no control; I suspect that most people can identify with both of these experiences.  For me, it gives me comfort and hope to know that I can and should keep striving to grow in wisdom and virtue, and that this lump of clay is in the hands of a potter who won’t discard a vessel that needs a little more shaping. 

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