In his contemplative reflection, Aristotle found God as this vague and distant ‘Unmoved Mover’; The pure object of all our love, who could be known and loved, yet lacking nothing, could not love us. He was simply the object of our admiration, and not some personal, active being in our lives.
I wonder at that, sometimes, what Aristotle’s dad, then, was like. I wonder if he wasn’t this cold and distant unmoved mover in the young philosopher’s life, who was all but the object of the lad’s noble, striving admiration while living in some distant world of his own. What if Aristotle, just like the rest of us, saw in someway, the world to be just a model of the house he was raised in. Perhaps that makes sense of all the philosopher’s striving, all his wisdom, all his works in life, as but his inner-child’s longing to simply hear, “good job, son.” —Maybe that’s why he clung so tightly to Plato, above all other pupils; this male figure that could finally for once speak with authority in his life (and maybe why he constantly had the need to counter and surpass his teacher’s ideas, like a man with something to prove to himself.)
And to even think, is this not the same God of our own generation? Isn’t God, in our Modern world, as distant and unmoving as our own fathers? We’re a generation of men raised by single moms in homes as broken as the world that keeps telling us is ‘it’s fine, it’s normal’ to live without a real love that moves us. Russel’s Fractal Theory says just like a rock resembles the mountain it broke from, the pieces of everything in the universe reflect the whole. What would this world look like if God were a dead-beat, distant man who walked out on our lives before we ever got to know him? Would it look much different than how we see it today?
Maybe our lives are the way they are because that’s who our God is, because that’s who my dad is.