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From Volume 4, Number 3, Winter 1998 A Theory of Everything The recent PBS series, Stephen Hawking's Universe, held particular interest for us for several reasons. It was interesting in its own right - a well done presentation, accessible to the general public without "dumbing down." Secondly, throughout the series one was impressed by the level of faith among the various scientists. Apparently the deeper one moves into the formation of our universe and its structure the deeper the conviction that there is purpose and design, that the universe is in fact, a creation. Faith in a creator is by no means universal among scientists, nor do those who have such faith display any unity in their concept of the creator. Yet the presence of such faith in such numbers is worth noting. However, as far as Celtic Christian spirituality is concerned, the most interesting episode of the series was the last, entitled "The Theory of Everything." The issue addressed was the search to find a single unifying theory which would weave together the various and contradictory elements of the universe into one seamless tapestry of creation. The ancient Celts, both Christian and pre- Christian, probably have little to offer the various scientific disciplines in their search, save for one element: a deep-rooted philosophical, spiritual and cultural conviction that creation is a unity. The great weakness of the PBS series was its inability to distinguish data from meaning. A "theory of everything" that would bridge the gap between the physics of relativity and quantum physics would at heart only be a more accurate description of the nature and behavior of physical reality. It recalls to mind a short dialog in The Voyage of the "Dawn Treader", one of C. S. Lewis’s series, The Narnia Chronicles. On the last island before the end of the world of Narnia, the crew meets Ramandu, a star (celestial, not Hollywood) in retirement, being daily renewed by bright glowing coals brought from the sun by great white birds. Eustace, a boy from our universe comments: "On our world a star is a huge ball of flaming gas." to which Ramandu replies: "Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of."1 In other words, so far as the current challenge of physics is concerned, when we have it all we will have very little indeed. The confusion between what something is and what something is made of is not by any means limited to contemporary science. Western Christians have long suffered this confusion, to the great destruction of the earth and the deep malformation of Christian moral theology. Unlike both the scientist and the believer of our era, the Bible spoke of nature alive and able to dialog and respond with the Creator and with creatures alike. Isaiah speaks of creation rejoicing at the return of the exiles "the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands." (Isaiah 55:12) The Psalms speak of creation greeting the Lord at his coming: "Let the sea roar, and the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein. Let the floods clap their hands: let the hills be joyful together before the Lord; for he cometh to judge the earth: with righteousness shall he judge the world, and the people with equity." (Ps 98:7-9) With our pedestrian worldview we dismiss such paeans of praise as the excessive metaphors of a primitive culture. The descriptive actions may be anthropomorphic, but the descriptive intent may well be quite literal. Our view of matter as inanimate and lifeless is appropriate for a world view commonly associated with ancient Greece that these physical bodies are merely containers for a spark of divinity. Yet the story of the creation of Adam in Genesis 2 makes an interesting distinction. God forms Adam from the dust of the earth, breathes into his nostrils the breath of life and only then does Adam become a living being. Life requires, according the Scriptures, a body Paul's description of the dynamics of resurrected life in I Corinthians is muddled by the choice of the word physical to describe the pre-resurrection body as contrasted with the spiritual post-resurrection one (this is in the RSV and the NRSV). In the Greek, the word used is psuchikos translated by the KJV and the NIV as natural, not phusikos. The former term related is to psyche (soul), the latter is the root of the English word physical (or physics!). When Luke describes the appearance of the resurrected Lord, he records Jesus as challenging the disciples by inviting them to handle him and tops off the evidence of the physical resurrection by joining them for dinner. Wherever the idea of separation of physical and spiritual reality comes from, it is not from the Bible. Winkey Pratney, an articulate apologist from New Zealand, addresses the non-Biblical assumptions of contemporary Christians in his book Healing the Land; A Supernatural View of Ecology. He wonders: "Perhaps it is mankind who by the Fall has lost touch with something that the whole creation around him to some degree still shares."2 Our inability to communicate with creation and receive communication may well originate in the Fall, but there is no doubt that we have exacerbated that condition by the assumptions of our culture. The nature poetry, prayers and songs of the Celtic saints indicate a world more united than our own. Yet this evidence also indicates a culture that not only believed in the supernatural life of creation, it lived it in the commonplace. The scientific search for a "theory of everything" is an exciting episode in the world of physics. Yet humankind must go further in rediscovering the fundamental unity at the heart of the universe. Without reestablishing our own connection with creation by being reconciled to the Creator, no theory of everything will ever live up to its title. The heavens declare the glory of God, |