Pillows, Puppies and People: Ontology embedded in Everyday Usage

People love puppies. Puppies love pillows. All three are beings. A person is a being, a puppy is a being, and a pillow is a being. All of these can be said, normally, to be. A person is. A puppy is. A pillow is. All three have form, color, and weight. Each one can be described, named, circumscribed, weighed, located, fed. Wait. A pillow can't be fed. There's something different about a pillow. OK, we've discovered a difference between pillows, puppies and people when we engage to feed them. People can be fed, puppies can be fed, but pillows can't be fed. When we were describing, naming, circumscribing, weighing and locating them, they seemed to be the same kind of beings. But a difference is discovered between them when we offer them food. We can offer each one of them food: that action does not change. But how they receive that action changes depending upon the kind of being they are. We've done nothing magical to change the kind of being each one is. The difference in their being is revealed by an action. The action differs in this case on the part of the recipient. I am the agent who feeds. The person recipient, and the puppy recipient, eats. The pillow recipient does not eat. My action does not change the recipient. The recipient's action, or lack thereof, reveals the difference in the recipients' mode of being. But still, puppies love pillows. And perhaps some people love pillows, even though a pillow is a different kind of being. Does a puppy recognize the difference between a person and a pillow when it comes to the act of feeding? Perhaps a puppy finds food at the pillow. In that case, the puppy may even believe he is receiving food from the pillow. After all, the pillow is where the food is. Only the person can recognize that the pillow does not provide the food.
A more radical difference between these three kinds of being can be discovered when we act upon them in a more direct way. Consider this action: a knife wielded, struck, inserted and turned. I can wield a knife, strike, insert and turn it in a pillow. I can wield a knife, strike, insert and turn it in a puppy. I can wield a knife, strike, insert and turn it in a person. The exact same action in all three cases. Absolutely no difference in the action I am taking. Yet the name of this action differs on account of the kind of being each one is. When I do this to a pillow, it is called vandalism. When I do it to the puppy, it is called killing. When I do it to the person it is called murder. Is it appropriate to call this action against a person vandalism? It is inappropriate and disrespectful. Is it appropriate to call this action against a puppy murder? It is an error in perception and judgment. We don't naturally name this action against a puppy murder. Our language allows for the possibility, but only through a certain indulgence on our part for the sake of the person who would wish to name this action murder. You can only murder a puppy if you have a skewed notion of the kind of being that a puppy has. A puppy is not a person, even though both names begin with "p."
You may wonder what my purpose is in the pursuit of discussing these obvious distinctions? No one thinks to dispute the obvious differences between these kinds of being: an inanimate object, an animal and a person. And yet, there are groups of people who wish to assign the same kinds of linguistic usage when speaking about God, as if God is just another person among people. "Hey Jehovah, mind if I call you 'Jah'?" If I called my father by his first name, it would be the height of disrespect. There are rules embedded in human relationships that forbid the use of first names. I call my father "dad" when I'm speaking to him. I wouldn't dare call him by his name. It's because of the kind of beings we are. It's because of our relationship that I don't call him by his name. The rules are embedded in the ways of being that we have emerged from. The rules are a natural part of the way of being that we inhabit.
What about more formal rules? What if I were going to visit the Queen of England. "Hey there Elizabeth, mind if I call you Bess?" There are rules governing how close I may approach. There are rules governing how I should comport myself physically when in her presence. I would not dare call her by her name. I address her as "Your Majesty." Oh, and the word to name the action discussed above? In this case it's regicide. Jesus, I guess that means she's a different kind of person.
Let's consider our beings one more time. Let's say someone nails a pillow to a cross. Then let's say they nail a puppy to a cross. Then what if they nail a person to a cross. Let's say they've nailed to the cross the one who taught me to call God "My Father." In that case, the best response among believers is to kneel, and if we're to speak at all, St. Thomas the Unbeliever taught us to say "My Lord and My God." It's the unreflective unbeliever who demands that this person must be a separate being, who demands that God the Father must be a different being from God the Son. "They have to be different! After all, that's where the food comes from!" It's kinda cute that the puppy demands to treat the pillow the same as the person because that's where the food comes from. There's a Catholic moment: why yes, that is where the food comes from, and the food is His flesh. Because His flesh is real food, and His Blood is real drink. The puppy does love them both.
Oh yes, a Catholic can enter the world of faith rather quickly. It's because it's not far at all from the world of experience. Just don't ask me to call my dad by his name to his face.
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