Theological Musings
by C. Grey Austin, Ph.D.
Installment XIX -- January 1996
Science and theology share a common assumption: that reality is characterized
by wholeness. In both cases, it is a statement of faith, utterly basic to
both science and theology, a base from which to build.
In the sciences, the assumption of wholeness has led Einstein and those who
have followed him to search for a Unified Field Theory that would unite into
a single basic understanding the quantum theory of the micro universe of
phenomena and the relativity theory of the macro universe. It is clear that
the micro and the macro are alike in structure, but the connection that would
establish their oneness has not been found.
Similarly, the quest for a single building block, what Leon Lederman calls
"The God Particle," has not been successful. As early as 500 B.C.E., Democritus
held that reality consisted of eternal and immutable units -- atoms -- and
later science was able to verify the truth of that theory and to go on to
discover still smaller particles that could be thought of as the building
blocks of the atom. But the contemporary search breaks down as the tiniest
of particles, when tracked, "winks out." Matter is energy, after all, and
this may be the exact point at which that truth is illustrated.
Science also offers evidence of patterns of wholeness in Holographic theory
and, in the computer field, with Fractals. If science has failed to prove
the oneness of physical reality, it, nevertheless, continues to point in
that direction.
In the social sciences, systems theory finds connections that point toward
wholeness, as does Jungian psychology with its concepts of archetypes and
the collective unconscious. And Gregory Bateson contributed by his efforts
to understand social reality as an organic whole in Toward An Ecology
of Mind and A Sacred Unity: Further Steps Toward an Ecology of Mind.
The words "whole," "holy," "health," and "hallow" all stem from a prehistoric
Germanic word that meant "undamaged." Bateson, an eclectic thinker who began
his career as an anthropologist and who referred to himself as "a fifth generation
unbaptized atheist," wrote of standing back to see the whole, which he called
"the sacred."
Religion, rather than trying to discover the whole by examining its smallest
parts, assumes the whole and tells its stories with the whole as its point
of reference. Thus the Creation, the building of nations, wars, prophetic
warnings, songs of praise, rules for society, and hope for the future all
illustrate, in Scripture, the Oneness of the Holy.
It was (is) my need to locate myself in this wholeness that led me to search
outside religion for as much truth about reality as I could find. Religion
offered me an anthropomorphic expression of the holy that I found unacceptable,
as I have indicated in more than one of these "Musings."
So I became a seeker.
I asked, "What can I know?" and "How can I know it?"
I asked, "What is real?" and "What is ultimately real?"
I asked, "What is significant?" and "What is supremely significant?"
First, I consulted my five senses, and I explored the reality that I can
touch, taste, smell, hear, and see. Add to that, the reality that all others
report touching, tasting, smelling, hearing, and seeing. Through this process
we all learn something of reality, but we discover that five-sensing is limited
in its in-reach and out-reach. Much remains mystery.
Extending the reach of the five senses through scientific instrumentation
and the application of rationality yields much more knowledge about the nature
of reality, both inner and outer, both micro and macro. Still, there is
a limitation of reach; mystery remains.
Science also tells us that we know less than we think we do about the "reality"
we can sense -- that this table that looks and feels like solid oak is, in
reality, empty space that contains moving particles too small to measure.
Matter, including our bodies and all else we call physical, is energy.
Deepak Chopra speaks of it as intelligent energy, analogous to the healing
potential in each of the cells in the human body.
And, to make bad matters worse, or at least more confusing, modern physics
tells us that time and space are also illusions. The senses, and the rationality
that goes with them, may serve us well for our everyday encounters with what
we experience as matter, but for purposes of reaching toward cosmic truth
they are of little use.
Further, the world which the senses, even extended by science, identifies,
is a world of things, not of their significance.
It becomes clear that we need to tap, and trust, additional ways of knowing.
Among these are intuition, inspiration, dreams, imagination, mystical awareness,
psychic insight, revelation, and whatever other words have been applied to
the more mysterious ways of knowing. We can't test this knowledge with
scientific methodology (though some limited efforts are being made) but we
can experience the consequences of acting on what we know. It is at once
the oldest way of knowing and the newest, and we can learn from those who
have developed and used it effectively.
Scientists, some of them, tell us that their greatest discoveries, their
most important theories, "came to them," not through observation and thought
but the way Beethoven "heard" a symphony and wrote it down. After the preparation
-- the practice -- came an openness to inspiration and creativity. And like
other creative persons, scientists turn to metaphor to describe reality that
exceeds the reach of their methodology and terminology. The closer we get
to ultimate reality and supreme significance, the more we use the language
of the poets, the musicians, the dancers, the mystics.
The non-sensory ways of knowing are not simply ways of extending sensory
knowledge, that is, knowledge about things. They help us discover connections
that we have not previously seen, and thus contribute to a vision of wholeness.
They also give us knowledge of ourselves, that senses/science cannot access.
And they reveal a perspective of Oneness that permits us to view the lesser
in terms of the more. They provide access to the big picture, to matters
of the spirit, to sources of meaning.
Identifying parts is a scientific enterprise; identifying the whole is a
philosophical/theological task, though more effectively expressed by poets
and dancers and mystics. The key to discovering significance is in looking
at our world through holistic glasses.
My seeking has been, primarily, of the intellectual variety, and I have discovered
the limitations of following that path as I observe that the best expressions
of what I am seeking are of the heart rather than the head. This discovery
does not denigrate rationality; rather it argues for balance of head and
heart. Each supplements the other, and the whole is larger than the sum
of its parts.
It is too easy, because of our Western upbringing, to apply either/or categories
to the search for reality and significance. We define by saying what something
is and differentiating from what it is not. We adopt dichotomies like mind/body,
only to discover that we understand and maintain health better when we see
them as integral. With many other dichotomies, perhaps all of them, there
is more truth in "both/and" than in "either/or."
Over a year ago, in what I consider to have been a genuine spiritual breakthrough,
and which I called "My French Silk Connection," I affirmed my oneness with
all -- with all living beings, with all humanity, with all that I am, with
the total chain of being, with cosmic truth. I find support for that concept
of Oneness in the realization that the essence of life is energy, not time
or place or quantity, that the micro is a reflection of the macro, the inner
of the outer. For me, this is both physical and spiritual truth.
In affirming Oneness, I affirm the unity of humanity and divinity. This
is a Western dichotomy and an Eastern unity; I find my truth in the latter.
What are the implications of my belief in cosmic Oneness?
1. The inner wisdom that I access through intuition, meditation, and dreams
is to be trusted. It is cosmic wisdom, expressed through me.
2. I am both a human being learning to be spiritual and a spiritual being
learning to be human. That is a oneness, not a dichotomy.
3. The Life Force for health and wholeness is a presence and a power for
good in my life as it is in the universe. It consists of love, hope, peace,
and joy. I would call that Life Force "God" if I could avoid the old, Western
polarization that places God out there, other, transcending what it is to
be human. The Life Force that activates and animates the universe is, in
fullness, that which activates and animates me.
4. I find the sacred in the ordinary. This is another dichotomy that yields
to Oneness.
5. My task in life is to be whole, i.e., to be fully myself. To realize
my full potential might be thought of as my sacred duty, but I prefer to
consider it my joy. It is my joy to do the reading, thinking, and writing
that produce this document.
6. There is richness in the diversity of human/divine potential, therefore,
there are many paths of spiritual expression. These include intellectual
activity, artistic creativity, acts of compassion, personal growth through
therapy and self-acceptance, meditative practice, conscious awareness, and
participation in a loving community. I am not limited to a single path.
7. I move toward full realization of my potential when I affirm that I am
love, hope, peace, joy; I am a force for health and wholeness, for myself
and for the planet.
(Copyright 1997 by C. Grey Austin, all rights reserved.)
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