|
|
Email
your suggestions,
disagreements or any
other comments and
they will be responded
to without delay
|
No broadband? |
|
|
|
On Our Own But Not Alone On
1 February, 2007, a health warning was sounded in Britain. The influenza
virus H5N1 had been discovered in
a flock of 160 000 turkeys. Over 2 000 had already died. As the killing
squads moved in to cull the entire flock, people began asking questions. The virus had already killed some 160 people; might
it not easily mutate into a form similar to that which killed so many
millions in 1918 and 1919? A nervous public demanded reassurance that
the virus was not present in turkey meat which had got into the food
chain before the outbreak was discovered. The authorities could only protest that
transmission to humans was highly unlikely. This was the best they could
do, for they recognised a hard fact - that it is almost impossible to
prove a negative. Even showing that the H5N1
virus did exist in a few sample turkeys took some 48 hours.
Showing that it did not exist at any one time would have meant
simultaneously testing every one of some 30 million turkeys in Britain -
an impossible task. Similarly, it is impossible to show that the
supernatural, a key component of the Christian religion, does not
exist. For even if one was able to demonstrate conclusively that no
human had ever yet experienced it, the possibility of someone stumbling
across it tomorrow could not be precluded. Even if no scientist has so
far found evidence for it, the open nature of science does not close off
the possibility of future discovery. So we must somehow show that the
supernatural does exist if we want to take it into account in the
grand scheme of things. I intend to argue here that the possibility of
traffic with the supernatural destroys the foundations of modern
knowledge; and further that belief in the supernatural may stand in the
way of salvation. This is not to say, I suggest, that ruling out the
supernatural also rules out mystery in our lives. There is quite enough
of that in the near-infinite reaches of space and the complex
uncertainties of quantum mechanics. We may find that we are on our own
in the universe as we struggle for maturity and also that we
nevertheless do not stand alone in this vast system. It’s important to remind ourselves in passing
that the supernatural is an important aspect of traditional
Christianity. Without traffic between humans and the divine dimension,
revelation in its strict and usual sense falls away. And if revelation
is struck off the roll of orthodoxy, then Christianity becomes a
sociological phenomenon like any other. This is not to say that
Christianity can’t survive without the supernatural. But it is to say
that its central paradigms must undergo profound revision if it is to be
rationally convincing and practically fruitful in the future. In other
words, we are here considering not a trivial but a profound matter, one
which may one day lead Christians into completely new territory. If then we can’t disprove the existence of
the supernatural, can we infer it from nature or from human experience? I suggest that if a world-wide poll could somehow
be taken of responses to the question, ”Do you think that there is a
supernatural reality other than the universe?” a significant majority
would answer, “Yes”. But what the supernatural means differs
significantly from person-to-person. Some think of it in terms of good
and evil spirits invading the world from another dimension. For some, it
is primarily a dimension to which dead people go when they die. Yet
others understand it as a numinous, other-worldly experience. It’s likely that there is no consensus about what
the supernatural actually is. So we have to ask: “What sort of
information do we have about it? What methods can we use to check that
our information is accurate and reliable?” That is, we acknowledge
that we can only know the supernatural in terms of the natural and that
we must therefore ask the same sort of questions about it as we ask
about nature. We can’t visit a supernatural place, for it is by
definition beyond us - it is super-natural. Before going on to briefly consider the feasibility
of inferring a supernatural realm from nature, it’s worth stepping
back to consider how we know things about nature. For if the methods we
use to study it can’t detect the supernatural, we would be rather like
a motor mechanic trying to diagnose human illness with a set of
spanners. A first point is to recognise that there has been a
radical change over the last few hundred years in the way people
perceive reality. It’s not that we would be entirely unable to
understand a Roman citizen or even a Neolithic hunter-gatherer. But it
is true that we now approach life from a very different frame of
reference. Our unspoken assumptions about the world are as different
from theirs as chalk is from cheese. In particular, our ancestors would have taken the
supernatural for granted. Its existence would have been an assumption so
basic that it would have been not only unquestioned but unnoticed. Just
as the educated person today “knows” that the earth circles the sun,
so the pre-modern “knew” that our world is next door to another. And
just as none of us has personally observed the earth’s orbit round the
sun and yet nevertheless accepts it as “fact”, so the pre-modern
accepted the supernatural as “fact”. Indeed, to the pre-modern, this
next-door world would not have been super-natural, but natural.
Traffic would have passed between two parts of the natural world - not
between our universe and the “other-than”, as we would most likely
put it today [1]. A second point concerns how the supernatural
relates to science. Some scientists maintain that looking for it is
beyond the scope of the scientific method [2].
But that objection is valid only if the supernatural in no way impacts
upon the natural. If, on the other hand, the supernatural does affect
our lives, it becomes the proper study of science because it is then an
aspect of the physical universe. The supernatural would be the direct
cause of various events in the universe and its existence would then
become a testable scientific hypothesis. But it seems that nobody has
yet devised an experiment to successfully test the hypothesis that the
“other-than” exists. Whatever the case, a physical universe
intrinsically connected to a supernatural universe is a different place
to a universe without such a connection. For example: Suppose DNA
evidence was found which demonstrated that Jesus was supernaturally
conceived [3]. This would clearly
be of immense importance to those who claim his birth as an historical
fact, since such things don't happen in the world as we now know it. Similarly, if the bones of Jesus were discovered somewhere in
Palestine, it would be difficult to validly maintain the physical
resurrection by supernatural powers of Jesus from the dead. In short, if only a sliver of information could be
shown indisputably to have come from a supernatural dimension, the world
of science would change overnight.
However, until that happens we have to take it that what is meant
by the term “supernatural” is “that which is utterly other-than
the universe of which we are part”. It cannot therefore be
investigated in the ways we investigate and discuss the universe. I
think this argument exposes the uncertain ground upon which those who
hold on to the supernatural stand. It is difficult to avoid the inherent
contradiction between their world view and the scientific world view
they live by. There remains one other possible source of
knowledge of the supernatural - what we usually term “human
experience”. It’s a truism that science can’t embrace everything
we think of as knowledge. There is little or no point, for example, in
analysing the colours and perspective of the Mona Lisa painting
and then claiming that this analysis is “the truth” about the work.
Its value and meaning are essentially attributes given it by human
observers. That those attributes are not scientific does not reduce
their importance. So it may be that the supernatural can’t be known
except subjectively. However, we should also note that it is impossible
to refute subjective knowledge. If you say that you have frequently met
and talked to the Angel Gabriel, I can rebut you only in a limited
sense. I can (in theory) show that nobody else on earth has had this
pleasure. But I can’t say that for that reason your experience is
necessarily illusory. However, many millions claim experience of the
supernatural world. Who is to say that such a strong consensus is wrong?
After all, even scientific findings have to be duplicated and then
supported by the consensus (albeit provisional) of a sizeable majority
of scientists. The upshot seems to be that it is impossible to refute
the experience of so many. Yet there does seem to be an inherent
difference between experience of the supernatural and scientific
consensus. By analogy, this difference is something like the experience
of breathing on one hand, and the scientific description of breathing on
the other. If we can’t show that the supernatural doesn’t
exist; and if subjective witness is fragile, always open to destruction
by reason, then what is left for us to work with as we investigate the
possibility that the supernatural is real and accessible? Perhaps those who don’t have personal experience
of the supernatural should infer its reality from those who do. This is
a valid approach. Sub-atomic particles, for example, are “seen” only
because they leave evidence of their passage on a photographic plate. We
accept their existence because scientists say that’s so. In other
words, inference can be useful - even if it is not strict “proof”.
There is no intrinsic reason why anyone should not rest easy with broad
subjective consensus. However, the modern mind inevitably still asks if
supernatural contact with the natural does in fact leave traces in the
universe from which we can infer its existence. Is it valid, for
instance, to claim that holy writings like the Bible and the Koran
derive from divine inspiration out of a supernatural realm? Or does the
intrinsic nature of the universe forbid such traffic between dimensions
or realms? I find the argument for the latter option
compelling. It seems to me that the possibility of inferring from nature
to the supernatural is diminished - if not precluded - by three
arguments. The first concerns how we humans perceive the natural order;
the second points out how the modern discipline we call history is
destroyed by supernatural intervention in our universe; and the third is
a paradigm of reality which, if accepted, precludes the validity of
science in a universe open to the supernatural. The Chimp Effect
Suppose you and I were chimpanzees. That is, we’re animals
which speak to each other in extremely attenuated language; we can’t
count up to ten; we use simple tools only with considerable difficulty;
and we have only a tenuous idea of either past or future. The question
arises: Do we know that the humans to whom we relate in our zoo are …
well, human? This is not a silly question. It relates to our
probable incomprehension of things supernatural. To put it another way: Can I comprehend
mathematics? It’s true that I have learned to do certain basic
calculations using numbers. I have some idea of statistics up to an
introductory level. But beyond that - venturing into the realm of
calculus and higher mathematics - I can only be described as
non-mathematical. I not only know nothing about higher mathematics, but
I am unable to do mathematics beyond high school level - as I
have repeatedly demonstrated despite copious quantities of blood, sweat
and tears. To the best in the mathematics field I am rather like a
chimpanzee is to a human. So if we as humans were to encounter a sphere of
being as much different from us as we differ from chimpanzees, we would
not recognise it except insofar as it was able to appear to us in human
terms. Unless communication with us from the supernatural is in some
sort of language (perhaps mathematical), and unless it is in a form
humans can comprehend and relate to, we will not even know it is there. My point is this: Whatever the supernatural may be
- if it is “there” at all - it is beyond our perception and
comprehension. For if it is not, then we are able to know it only
through our ordinary senses. We can know the supernatural only as a
chimpanzee can “know” a human being. Unless whatever is supernatural
is translated into human terms, it cannot be known by us. And if
translated into human terms, how are we differentiate between it as super-natural,
and it as natural? It seems that a supernatural domain may be proposed
and believed in - that is, “believed” in the sense that we believe
sub-atomic particles to be real. But it cannot be so proposed on the basis
of any except natural evidence - for if it were not, the evidence would
be quite literally beyond us. We must make do with data from the natural
order as we try to understand ourselves and the universe as
“everything that is”. Seamless Cause and Effect As they strove to comprehend the person of Jesus, the
first Christians (like ourselves) had only their own cultures with which
to make sense of him. Theirs was a universe much smaller than ours. Very
few people knew anything beyond their own neighbourhoods; even fewer had
more than rumours of what lay beyond the borders of the Roman Empire. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that early
Christians,
scattered and unknown as they were for the first two centuries and more,
used the paradigms of their age to think about the supernatural. It was
part of the known world, an unquestioned part of normal life - rather as
gravity is for us. We don’t see gravity, but we know it’s
“there” Despite the pervasiveness of the supernatural
outlook, Christians nevertheless insisted that Jesus was fully human, a
real person who had lived and died just as we all do. Those who taught
otherwise were heretics, to be opposed and refuted. Their insistence upon the objective reality of
Jesus was not, however, an assertion of his historicity. The
analytical discipline we now know as history had not yet been invented,
for it derives its nature from the same criteria that so successfully
inform science. The present books of the New Testament were officially
approved by the Church not because they were good history but because
they were good theology. The Gospel of Thomas, for example, was excluded
from the Bible because it carried the stain of Gnosticism, not because
some of its contents are incredible. Today we apply far more stringent criteria to the
Bible. The first question a modern asks when confronted by an event
outside 21st-century normality is, “Did this really happen?” The
text, alternative sources, and archaeological evidence - indeed,
anything which can usefully be brought to bear - are all “tortured”
before a verdict is passed. And even then, only when a substantial
majority of torturers (otherwise known as scholars) forms a consensus is
it safe to talk of a biblical event as good history. Fundamental to the
consensus, however, is the agreement that if new evidence becomes
available, what is now regarded as good history may change. Underpinning history is a vital truth which is
usually debated only by experts in the subject, but which is
nevertheless pivotal for our discussion of the supernatural. It is that
history is a seamless web of events. An “event” is our invention,
made so that we can better understand the seamless flow of “events”.
And when we say that one event is “caused” by another, we are
breaking up a seamless flow of “events” into an artificial pattern
only in order to better understand “what really happened”. In truth,
since the birth of time there has only been a flow of “happening”.
“Cause” and “effect” are human constructions, conveniences to
help us understand of the seamless flow of space/time. And so we patch together a rough pattern which we
call the “History of Jesus”. Any such patchwork is not only
incomplete, but is also an interpretation. A new patch may radically
change that interpretation. Like the findings of science, all history is
provisional, not permanent or absolute. This seamless flow of events is, perhaps somewhat
to our chagrin, far too complex and shifting ever to be entirely
contained in any human version of “what really happened”. But our
constructions presume it is there. And if at any point the
seamless flow is interrupted by a cause external to the universe, then
the continuity of space/time itself is irredeemably broken. It begins
again at the point of interruption. The cause external to the universe is, in effect, a
new “first cause” without which the seamless flow of events would
otherwise have continued along its previous wandering path, determined
only by the relative “cause and effect” components of which it is
comprised. Traditional Christianity is clear about one thing -
that Jesus was pivotal in the history of humanity’s salvation. His
life was an immensely powerful cause in the seamless web of this
world’s existence. Jesus is indisputably an appropriate subject for the human
discipline we call “history”. But we cannot have a history of Jesus
if causes external to the universe are constantly intruding upon the
seamless web. If they do so intrude we can’t attribute any part of
history to Jesus, for we can’t then separate a Jesus-cause from a
supernatural-cause which may have intervened. In short, to admit traffic between the natural and
the supernatural is to destroy history as a necessary basis for the
Christian faith. If not that, then we must admit that Christianity
pivots not on the person of Jesus, but upon supernatural interventions.
The inveterate sceptic might even with justice insist that it pivots on
the inventions over the centuries of people who had something to gain
from sustaining those inventions. General Systems Theory We are slowly beginning to define our existence in
terms of a new paradigm which dates back to early biological models of
the mid-1920s [4]. Since then the
universe has been increasingly perceived as a seamless complex system
comprised of a near-infinite number of highly complex sub-systems. These
sub-systems stretch from unimaginably tiny sub-atomic “particles”
comprising invisible strings of energy, up to the living cell and so on
up to our planet and beyond. It is a paradigm which promises to alter
dramatically the way we think about our world. A topical subject is a good instance of this
paradigm. As the debate about climate change heats up, it is fascinating
to note how more people are beginning to grasp the notion of a complex
system. One group trumpets global warming; another quickly points out
conflicting data. Both are constantly blown this way and that by the
extreme complexity of the global system they are trying to understand. Behind both parties, however, lies an
unspoken understanding - that no aspect of our planet’s life stands
alone. Everything, including ourselves, is part of an intricate whole.
We separate the parts of the seamless whole one from another only as a
matter of convenience. This earth of ours has its “parts” or
sub-systems only insofar as they exist in a seamless, entire system -
which we call “the universe”. Every sub-system attempts to maintain a balance
within the larger system or environment of which it is part. As its
environment shifts, so the sub-system compensates. Only if its
compensating mechanisms fail - say through some massive change - does
the sub-system break down. If enough sub-systems in an environment fail,
the environment (itself a sub-system) may collapse. We assume, for
example, that our planet is resilient enough to cope with the large
changes humans have introduced into it. If it isn’t, we can perhaps
look forward to being eliminated, much as our bodies (each in turn a
sub-system of the planet) attack and eliminate invading viruses. Traditional Christianity can itself be perceived as
a sub-system of the greater conceptual system we call “religion”.
Many today question the ability of the Church to adapt to the conceptual
earthquakes which the modern age has visited upon its teachings. It not
unnaturally strives to preserve its internal stability (the technical
term is homeostasis) by maintaining its perception of the
supernatural as it has been for millennia. But if the supernatural as a
pivotal sub-system of Christianity turns out to be an unworkable
hypothesis, the overarching traditional system may implode just as the
human body collapses when terminally damaged. If data or activity flow from the supernatural into
the natural, then the total system we call the universe must be changed
each time that happens. The entire system must perforce adapt. And if
the universe as a total seamless system is constantly changing and
adapting to invasion by the super-natural, then history is not
the only conceptual category which bites the dust. Science itself, as
well as the myriad other disciplines which attach to it, ceases to have
basic internal consistency and order. Nothing can be predicted or
confirmed because the supernatural constantly intervenes - unless, of
course, what we call supernatural is in fact natural. A universe open to invasion by the supernatural
collapses another pillar of Christian doctrine. The limited free will
humans have within a system is utterly destroyed when the universe as
the overarching system is constantly being altered by incursions of the
supernatural. Free will assumes that we can make choices which impact
upon and change our environment; and Christian love assumes that we must
be able to calculate and discern which are loving actions and which are
not. If invisible, secret irruptions by the supernatural into our
universe happen, then we can’t be sure that what we choose to do has
in fact caused
anything. And if that is true then the ancients were correct - we are
indeed at the mercy of elemental powers beyond our ken and power. Paul
of Tarsus for one thought that Jesus had signalled the end of this
servitude [5]. Having dealt with the supernatural as an aspect of
the physical universe, I now turn to it as an influence which negatively
affects the potential gift of personal and hence social salvation. If
the drift of my argument is somewhere near correct, salvation is in fact
freely available to everyone as part of the natural order of things. The Church at large claims special access to
salvation through Jesus of Nazareth. Salvation is a metaphor, invented
by early Christians to help make sense of the crucifixion of Jesus. It
was derived from a first-century society in which there was a high risk
of suffering and death - a risk higher than most people, even in Africa,
face today. To be saved in some way from daily terrors and dangers was
something all must have longed for. “Salvation” remains a viable metaphor. For even
though human beings today generally enjoy a more secure life than ever
before, there are still risks and dangers galore. Nevertheless, it is a
term which has lost its punch. It has been abused and over-used to the
point where it is little more compelling than a “whiter-than-white”
advertisement for soap powder. My suggestion is to replace “salvation” with
“maturity”. The latter term captures everything we need to
understand about the role of Jesus in our lives. To cut to the chase:
the attributes alluded to (but not fully explained) by Paul in 1
Corinthians 13, are roughly what I mean by true maturity. In the briefest
possible summary, maturity is the attainment by a person of his or her
full potential as a unique human being. Each of us is limited in the scope and content of
our individual potentials by at least two factors: [1] our genetic
inheritance and [2] our upbringing and broader socialisation. The first
is not only a given base potential but also a range of possibilities. A
person may be born with the genetic potential to be a great
mathematician - and yet never be introduced to the subject. Similarly,
genetic potential for athleticism may be only partially developed. The
second factor depends upon how parents and others, who may themselves be far
from mature, inculcate the elements of society into the biologically
immature. The Christian claims that without love (agape),
any and all models of maturity are incomplete. That’s a large
subject in itself. I want here to introduce two other aspects of
salvation/maturity. The first is to propose that maturity/salvation,
regardless of age, may not be attainable without a degree of personal
integration. A person who “thinks in two spheres” [6]
lacks integrity, is not integrated. For example, if I on one hand
ruthlessly exploit consumers to maximise my personal wealth, and on the
other salve an uneasy conscience by giving generously to the poor, I can
hardly be called integrated. Similarly, if I send a letter bomb on
Saturday and go to confession on Sunday, I can’t be called a person of
integrity. The supernatural is a concept which poisons the
spring of personal integration at its very source, for it requires that
this life, this universe, is broken into two parts. The natural requires
a certain range of responses to reach maturity. The supernatural - about
which we apparently can know nothing - requires … what? The person who
lives a life of “two spheres” is always looking over his or her
shoulder, always taking into account what might be waiting “on the
other side”, always referring “in faith” to messages which purport
to come from … where? composed by … whom? The full integration of the human person depends, I
suggest, upon a full-face, nothing spared, relationship with nature in
all its complexity and glory. We all differ both in our potentials and
our circumstances. Maturity/salvation is available in unique form to
each and every one of us, but only if we don’t think in “two
spheres”, one the Monday natural and the other the Sunday supernatural
- that is, if we are not dis-integrated. The intrusion of the supernatural into the natural
carries with it another short circuit in the system of which we are
part, and in which we are called to strive for maturity. For if there is
another dimension which is better, more solid [7],
more reliable, more pure than our natural universe, more authoritative
than anything we have here, then we must surely follow its dictates
rather than the dictates of the natural order. In the past, the vast bulk of humanity defined its
salvation/maturity as submission to higher supernatural powers. One has
only to look at traditional Christian teaching and spirituality to
discover a strain of exactly that sort of approach to salvation. The
supernatural fitted this paradigm perfectly. It provided a source of
absolute supremacy to which even the strongest and most gifted had, in
theory at least, to submit. The modern age has adopted a different paradigm. In
an increasing number of cultures it is now not submission to a higher
power which drives people, but the need for autonomy or self-actualisation
[8]. At the apex of the pyramid of
human salvation is a maturity derived from pursuing maximum potential in
both the personal and the social aspects of life. The supernatural as a better, more perfect
existence therefore removes or at least severely restricts our autonomy.
True autonomy requires free choice - and what choice do we really have
in our imperfect condition if one set of options comes from a higher,
purer, more certain order of things? Without autonomy we are no longer
truly grounded in the universe as it is. In this case, the temptation is
to regard this world as merely a passing, impermanent, vale of tears,
to be lived in and then abandoned, hopefully for a better heavenly life. To sum up: The nature of the universe, and
therefore of our world as one of its sub-systems, is such that it cannot
bear the notion of the supernatural. Not only that, but the many
analytical disciplines upon which modernity depends are destroyed by
contact with the supernatural. In particular, the basis of traditional
Christianity, the person of Jesus
as history, is lost along with history itself and we must instead invent
our own designer-Christ. Furthermore, if the supernatural exists, it must be
beyond our comprehension. If it is not, then there is no reason to
differentiate between it and the natural. And if the supernatural
intrudes into the universe, free will and its outcome, autonomy, are
destroyed. This understanding of life doesn’t, however,
necessarily also destroy mystery and wonder. True autonomy is
simultaneously self-possession and the giving up of self, just as being of
the world is also to be immersed in something far greater than
the mere natural. The system as a whole is more than the sum of its
parts. If we can’t get final answers from the “outside which is
other-than”, it doesn’t mean we can’t commit to other-than
answers. We may be on our own, but we are not alone. |