Limbs and Phantoms

Sunday morning Ethan witnessed a theological discussion, variations of which occur quite often in our family.
Hannah (holding the door wide open as we are entering church): God doesn’t have a body, right?
Ali (entering, skeptical as always): Well, Hannah, it’s not that easy. Remember, Jesus, God-the-Son has a body.
It’s not hard for Hannah to remember this. I remember two years ago when she found out that Christ’s resurrected body still bore the marks of the nails. Why didn’t God fix the holes? That’s not fair!! She screamed. She wept.
Jojo (certain, but modest): But, God-the-Holy-Ghost doesn’t have a body.
Everybody agrees. A diminutive council of Nicea. They’re all running into the nursery now.
Sunday evening right before going to bed, Ethan signals that he has an important truth to communicate. Often these are performances aiming to delay bedtime.
Ethan (certain and too self-aware): Dad, God-the-Holy-Spirit is a ghost.
I have a quick flash to Ezekiel’s valley of dead bones. If the little orthodox council were still awake, they wouldn’t allow Ethan to conceptualize God’s breath as a ghost. So, I tell him about wind, breath, fire, whisper, and vitality. We talk until it is way past his bedtime.