Ann Lee, 49384
Pre-Assignment: Oxford Institute for Science and Spirit
Who stands fast? Only the man
whose final standard is not his reason, his principles, his conscience, his
freedom or his virtue, but who is ready to sacrifice all this when he is called
to obedient and responsible action in faith and in exclusive allegiance to God
– the responsible man, who tries to make his whole life an answer to the
question and call of God. Where are
these responsible people?
- Dietrich Bonhoeffer,
Letters and Papers from Prison
In 1946, Michael Polanyi wrote that every interpretation of nature is based on some intuitive conception of the general nature of things. This intuition, or tacit knowing, foresees indeterminate manifestations of the experiences we encounter. Polanyi pointed to Heisenberg’s and Schrödinger’s discoveries in quantum mechanics as an example: each scientist perceived the same hidden reality, but developed such differing explanations of their two findings that it originally was thought that they were describing two unrelated phenomenons. The simultaneity of the discovery, however, suggests that they were guided by what Polanyi called an “urge to make contact with a reality which [was] felt to be there already to start with, waiting to be apprehended …[and that] great discovery is the realization of something obvious; a presence staring us in the face, waiting until we open our eyes.”[1]
As an outsider looking in, those of us who are non-scientists may find Polanyi’s description of physicists – or chemists, geneticists or any other like-minded scientific “–ists” – to be that of discovery-finding automatons guided by intuitive sensibilities. But, according to Polanyi, such a view would ignore the fact that scientists execute decisions throughout an investigation process – and that the process itself is an art learned through its practice. As the emerging scientist learns the workings of his or her profession, often at the elbow of an eminent tutor, he or she accepts the authority of the teacher, as well as the fundamental soundness of the scientific method and content that the teacher employs. By watching, studying and gathering in the rhythm and practices of the mentor, the student eventually senses how to go about his or her own inquiry. Polanyi noted, “This is the way of acquiring knowledge, which the Christian Church Fathers described as fides quarens intellectum, ‘to believe in order to know’.”[2]
The art, then, which guides the scientist toward discovery resembles the process followed in the creation of a painting or a sculpture. The painter or sculptor is guided by a fundamental vision of the final piece, even though the whole is conceived only in terms of as-yet undetermined specifics which are “discovered” in the process of working with those particulars. The difference, of course, is that scientists’ interests are in unearthing the natural world’s hidden designs. Similarly spellbound, they “rack their brains, strain their eyes and test their hands” – sensing, or moving in and out – to connect with potential discoveries. Indeed, it is a “process of emergence rather than a feat of operative action…”[3]
Concepts such as movement and emergence continue to play out as themes in contemporary theories involving the intersections between science and spirituality. Following the thinking of physicist David Bohm, Kevin Sharpe posits that the Divine – which he describes as the underlying wholeness: the subuniverse within which all reality exists – can be thought of as enfolding and unfolding all of creation so as to form, reform and transform it. The motivation or encouragement, he says, is “altruism,” defined in his book, Sleuthing the Divine: the Nexus of Science and Spirit, as “unselfish concern for the welfare of others; selflessness.” Like Dietrich Bonhoeffer[4], Sharpe seeks a renewed emphasis on this quality of character. However, while Sharpe recognizes that religious imperatives did at one time influence altruistic tendencies, he points out that the authority of the Divine today too often gives sway to conflicting impulses from relativism and secularism.
Sharpe proposes a revised interpretation of God – a rational understanding that relies on current scientific thinking, and which makes sense to 21st-century first-world post-moderns. Relying on what Ian Barbour calls natural theology[5], he looks to sociobiological theories which suggest that altruistic behavior – such as that defined by Jesus’ examples of love – is genetically encoded. Biological altruism is then passed on to following generations, prompting epigenetic impulses in response to one another’s needs – a process which is essential to the evolutionary survival of the human species. In this way, the laws of nature are synchronous with God’s self-revelation. Specifically, he says, “God works this way.”[6]
Sharpe expects many rational Christians to find this explanation appealing – more appealing than medieval interpretations of the Divine. Some such cobwebbed-encrusted doctrines have been said to drive today’s thinking Christians away from organized religion, and thereby, away from its benefits and influences.[7] The analysis offered by Sharpe prescribes another way, a logical way, to understand the Divine, and also lays a foundation for God’s revelation through the resurrection of Jesus: Jesus’ altruistic way of life succeeds, and if Jesus can follow it, we are encouraged to do likewise. Departing from creation doctrines that ground much of his initial thinking, he ultimately concludes that resurrection – that is, our life after death – is also possible.
A realistic hope for life after death is also the conclusion of Charlene P.E. Burns’ argument in her book, Divine Becoming: Rethinking Jesus and Incarnation. Although the two authors take different paths, both Sharpe and Burns arrive at a similar conclusion: humanity’s unity with God.
Like Sharpe, Burns follows a natural theology, and recognizes God’s indwelling with creation. Also like Sharpe, she grounds her thinking in science: her work focuses on biology and psychoanalysis. Where he sees the authority of the Divine as less relevant to practically minded individuals who live in a secular and relativistic world, she writes of the ongoing authority of God as initiator and end of all kenesis (which, in biology, is described as movement in response to a stimulus). At this point, Burns transitions to the doctrine of incarnation as the basis for her argument.
Burns recognizes that incarnation is seen by some as no more than “antiquated nonsense.” However, it is her position that its central tenets expand the Jewish belief that the Creator of the universe continues to be involved in human history – and that this involvement is somehow a part of what it means to be – that is, that it is an ontological event that allows for the existence of a human capacity for incarnating: of making present the Divine in all creation.
She cites liberally the thinking of Byzantine theologian Maximus the Confessor (580-662) whose writings suggest that salvation means deification. This gift from God occurs in the dynamic process which begins as a reciprocal relationship between God and humankind. “Everything is in motion toward God in a perichoretic, mutually penetrating relationship that has as its end the salvation of all creation, understood as union with the divine. Deification is a real possibility for all but is accomplished only through the gift of grace.”[8]
Recognizing Jesus’ two natures, Burns says that theories of selfhood and altruism clarify his relationship to the world. Scripture describes it as splanchnizethai, that is, to be viscerally moved, or to be affected in the gut, or to have compassion. This capacity for altruism derives from what Burns calls four interrelated domains: entrainment, affect attunement, sympathy and empathy. “Understanding incarnation as participation means that Jesus, by entraining with, attuning to, feeling sympathy and empathy with humanity and God in such a ways as to reveal the divine uniquely, makes possible salvation by uniting us with God.”[9]
Altruism in humans, then, is linked to the capacity for empathy. We transcend the finite in movement toward the infinite, knowingly or not, in response to kinetic calls to meet one another’s needs. Incarnation, then, occurs in and through our participation in meeting those needs, and in reducing suffering and bringing about right relationships among one another. Indeed, our response moves us toward God in completion of the perichoretic reality of our relation to the Divine – and through this movement, we discover God in the world.
Polanyi’s description of the method by which the artist, and then the scientist, learn their trade at the elbow of an eminent tutor, accepting their authority and the authority of the subject matter involved – by watching, studying and gathering in the rhythm and practices of the mentor – is not unlike the process Burns describes in the kinetic response to God’s call to be present to one another. Through participation in one another’s sufferings, we are entrenched in their reality, and we attune to their experiences. Empathy builds and altruism develops. Thereby, we believe in order to know. And if that knowing is then genetically encoded, as Sharpe suggests, so that it prompts epigenetic impulses in our progeny and aids in the survival of the human species, then indeed, the laws of nature are synchronous with God’s self-revelation.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Barbour, I. G. (2000). When Science Meets Religion: Enemies, Strangers or Partners? New York, HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
Burns, C. P. E. (2002). Divine Becoming: Rethinking Jesus and Becoming. Minneapolis, Augsburg Fortress.
Polanyi, M. (1964). Science, Faith and Society. Chicago, University of Chicago Press.
Sharpe, K. (2000). Sleuthing the Divine: The Nexus of Science and Spirit. Minneapolis, Augsburg Fortress.
[1] Polanyi, M. (1964). Science, Faith and
Society. Chicago, University of
Chicago Press, p. 35.
[2] Ibid., p. 15.
[3] Ibid.,
p. 33.
[4] In his book, The
Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer
liberally uses the ancient Greek word perisson to describe a natural inclination toward “meeting
the expectations of the other.”
Specifically, perisson
means to look out for and support one’s neighbors, friends, colleagues, family
members, anyone and everyone. It is to
be a part of something larger than oneself, and to go beyond the bare minimum
required by the exacting letter of the law.
The Cost of Discipleship is Bonhoeffer’s
argument against the Nazi scheme to kill Jews during World War II. His outspokenness led to his imprisonment and
later, his death: the cost of discipleship can be very high.
[5] Barbour, I. G. (2000). When Science Meets Religion: Enemies, Strangers or Partners? New York, HarperCollins Publishers Inc., p. 31
[6] Sharpe, K. (2000). Sleuthing the Divine: The Nexus of Science and Spirit. Minneapolis, Augsburg Fortress, p. 158
[7]A 1999 study
conducted by
Rather than moral
relativism, anthropologist and sociologist Paul H. Ray says the culture is
entrenched in moral pluralism, and that there is a greater number of moral
values “rattling around” today than at any other time in the nation’s
history. He contends that moral
confusion and an inability to negotiate the complexities of rival value systems
are merely signs of cultural change. The study was referenced by Jim Nesbitt in
an article, “Cultural takeover: If conservatives lost the war for our morals,
who is winning?” (Newhouse News Service: The Plain
Dealer,
[8] While she does not specifically state what she means by God’s “gift of grace,” the context of the book – which ultimately recognizes the validity of non-Christian religions – allows that this language might refer to the process of perichoresis in itself, and not to an exclusionary attitude that selects only some persons as recipients; rather the term “only” seems to recognize the Originator of the gift. Burns, C. P. E. (2002). Divine Becoming: Rethinking Jesus and Becoming. Minneapolis, Augsburg Fortress, p. 122.
[9] Ibid., p. 16.