The Sacred Person
The Sacred Person
The word person comes from the Latin persona—literally, “that through which sound passes.” In ancient theatre it referred to the mask an actor wore, shaped in such a way that his voice would resonate and carry. But beneath this simple image lies a profound spiritual truth: to be a person is to be one through whom sound travels. One who receives a voice not entirely their own, yet entrusted to express it uniquely. In the Christian imagination, this becomes more than mere etymology. It becomes vocation.
From the beginning, God breathed His life into humanity. Scripture says we were made in His image—not as static statues, but as living vessels formed to echo His heart. If the word person means a sounding-through, then perhaps our deepest identity is this: we are created to resonate with the voice of God.
Henri Nouwen often wrote that our true self is the place where God speaks His most intimate word. Not in thunder, not in spectacle, but in the quiet chambers of the soul where we are most ourselves. There, God’s love moves like air through a hollow reed, producing a melody we could never compose alone.
To be a person is to be an instrument, not in the sense of being used, but in the sense of being cherished—held, breathed into, brought to life.
God does not speak through perfection. He sounds through our ordinary days, our small gestures, our frailties and fears. The resonance of God moves through the grain of our humanity, the way wind moves through an Irish whistle or the sea moves through a conch shell. Every kindness, every act of forgiveness, every moment of courage is a note of His presence sounding through us.
Sometimes the sound is clear; other times it is cracked or trembling. Yet even a trembling note can be beautiful, because it carries truth.
To “sound God through ourselves” does not mean losing our individuality. In fact, the more deeply God’s love takes root in us, the more uniquely our voice emerges. Just as each instrument vibrates with its own timbre, each person resonates with God’s life in a way no one else can.
The saints are not copies of one another—they are diverse, vibrant echoes of the same divine Word. Our task is not to manufacture a holy sound but to stay open, like a well-tuned chamber, so that Love may pass freely through.
To understand person as sounding-through is to discover that our existence is already musical. We are made for resonance. We are made to carry the breath of God into the world—through our laughter, our tears, our questions, our compassion.
And perhaps the most comforting truth is this: We do not create the music. We allow it.
Great artists have recognized this. Bob Dylan once described his songwriting not as a product of his personal will or ambition, but as something that came through him — a voice he was discovering, not inventing. Van Morrison similarly has spoken of songs emerging from some deeper well, as if he were a channel for music that already existed. Their humility reveals a powerful truth: they were not “creators” so much as conduits — vessels through which melody and meaning found expression.
God is always sounding. We are the ones through whom the sound becomes human.