Gospel of Karin

This essay is a continuation of two prior posts on the subject of panentheism:
The Revival
God in the World 

World as God’s Body
All of the essayists in In Whom We Live Move and Have Our Being espouse some sort of personal metaphor for envisioning the God-world relationship. The most common analogy is the world as God’s body.

Philip Clayton emphasizes that God’s immanence must be thought of strictly in metaphorical terms and not literally or locatively. This is particularly true because panentheists use “in” to refer to a reciprocal relationship between God and world (Clayton, 83). In trying to describe this dialectic of “unity-in-difference,” Clayton argues that “univocal language breaks down,” and concrete metaphors (such as Arthur Peacocke’s image of the world existing in the “womb of God”) are too specific to describe the God-world dialectic (Clayton 83, Peacocke 147). 

Both Clayton and Peacocke subscribe to a form of panentheism known as emergent monism. Emergent monism refers to the biological concept of emergence in which natural systems and organisms spontaneously give rise to higher levels of complexity that transcend subsequent levels (140).

Emergent monists holds that the notion of God as a static substance does not correspond with the way nature really works. God must be reconceived as, according to T.W. Deacon, ‘the creative dynamic,’ immanent in natural processes. God unfolds the possibilities that systems and creatures may actualize within God’s circumambient reality, the highest level of emergence (143). This, in Peacocke’s words, is a “naturalistic theism,” in which no new entity is inserted at any level through which God might intervene in the natural order. The world is strictly composed of “basic physical entities,” and is “causally closed” (147).1 Peacocke compares God’s creative presence to that of a composer present in his or her music (144).

Clayton argues that the most scientifically rigorous metaphor for the God-world relationship is the human mind/body combination. The natural sciences have taught us about the psychosomatic unity of the human person. For this reason, he believes that this metaphor, which he calls the “panentheistic analogy,” (PA) best expresses (albeit, in a very loose way) the interdependent relationship between God and world (83).

Clayton justifies the metaphor in this way: “Apparently, no natural law is broken when you form the (mental) intention to raise your hand and then you cause that particular object in the world, your hand, to rise” (84). He is careful to point out that this analogy is a useful way of thinking about divinity in relation to evolution, but recognizes that it can lead to the view that God is no more than the universe deified. Clayton cautions that it is better thought of as a point of departure for postulating a larger, metaphysical framework (91).

Peacocke defends his “womb of God” metaphor by arguing that it is a naturalist, mammalian, non-masculinist model in which God nurtures life from within (147). But, both he and Clayton agree that human personhood represents a special place in the “ontological relation of, and the interactions between, God and the world” (although God is also present to other levels of reality [Peacocke, 148, 150]).

Notes
1. Not all emergent theorists believe that the basic components of reality are physical. For example, Christian Process theologian, Joseph Bracken, believes that the smallest units of reality are spiritual.

Works Cited
In Whom We Live and Move and Have Our Being: Panentheistic Reflections on God’s Presence in a Scientific World. Philip Clayton and Arthur Peacocke, eds. William B. Eerdsman Publishing Company (Grand Rapids: 2004). 

Painting: “Hands that Hold Us,” Pamela Yates, copyright Pamela Yates (www.pamelayates.com)

My boyfriend asked me recently when it was that my mother became religious. I told him it was just after my father died over twenty years ago. Before that, mom would have identified herself as a Christian, but she was certainly not a practicing one. After Dad passed, she explored the possibility of going back to the church. She also began to read the Bible on a regular basis.

The Bible reading stuck. The church did not. The reason she gave for leaving was that the church drove her crazy. “They were constantly calling me to do stuff,” she said. “I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

I know the feeling. I was, for the most part, raised an “unchurched” person. As a young kid, I attended a Catholic church for awhile (Dad’s idea). Then sometime later, we joined a Baptist church (Mom’s idea). Neither panned out. My parents weren’t all that committed to going, so when my five siblings and I began whining on Sunday mornings that we wanted to stay home, read the funnies, and eat jelly doughnuts, they gave in with little fuss.

It would be many years later that I, like my mother, would try the church again. It would also be the first time in my life that I would read the Bible almost cover to cover. But again, like my mother, the Bible reading stuck. The church did not.

Much had to do with the frenzy of it all. It seemed a constant flurry of activities often detracted from the spiritual dimension of worship. There was too much action, too little quiet reflection. Lots of chit-chatting in the pews about goings on while sermons were being preached. Once, a member strode up and down the main aisle of the sanctuary selling tickets to the church dinner just before Sunday service began.

I have much respect for the good and necessary work many churches do through their charitable and outreach programs. I’m especially impressed by how much they do with so few resources. I understand as well how enriching being involved in such activities can be. But I could not help but think that my church could have done less reaching out and more looking inward. As a church member, I often wondered whether others also felt that too little attention was given to their spiritual impoverishment.

Maybe they were being asked to give of themselves something they simply did not have. Their spiritual reserves were empty, sapped by the constant frenzy of their own lives. Maybe the church only added to the madness.

I’ll talk more in the future about my reasons for leaving the church. But that’s all for now. Tomorrow, back to panentheism.

As promised, here’s a brief description of the varieties of panentheism as proposed by Niels Henrik Gregersen, one of the contributors to In Whom We Live, Move, and Have Our Being. Gregersen cautions this is not an “exhaustive taxonomy.” Rather, it is a map for navigating the “general landscape” of panentheism.

The three varieties of panentheism Gregersen lays out are as follows:

Soteriological panentheism — The world as being “in God” is not a given but a gift. Not everything is in God. Evil, sin, war, and hatred for example are excluded (but particular soteriological panentheists have their own ideas about what’s in and out. I recall one theologian who included only humans in the all, which doesn’t sound much like all to me). Finally, this is an eschatological panentheism, meaning that nothing is fully in God until the final redemption.

Expressivist panentheism — This is based in early nineteenth century philosophical idealism (i.e., Hegel, Krause). Briefly, the divine Spirit goes out into the world, inspires love, and through love, returns the world back to the divine life. Hegel incorporated the Trinity. He saw God as expressing Godself in human history through Jesus Christ and through a self-conscious Spirit who goes out into the world, becomes self-consciousness in humanity and is enriched as humanity comes to know itself as being in God. Furthermore, it is through humanity that the rest of creation is finally redeemed and consummated into the divine life. Evil is not included in God’s life (note: animals and nature do not sin). Evil, however, is a necessary by-product of humanities’ emergence from its alienation from God (which began with the fall).

Dipolar panentheism — This is classic process theology a la Alfred North Whitehead. God is both timeless as well as temporal and spatial. In other words, God is involved in the self-creative processes of all life in the universe. At the same time, God is changed and enriched as the world changes. Dipolar refers to two aspects of the same God, including the unchangeable, transcendent God and the changeable God who depends on the world to complete the divine life.

These are very brief descriptions and I’ll answer questions as best I can when (or if) they come up. In the meantime, I encourage you to read Gregersen’s essay. See the citation below.

Works cited
Gregersen, Niels Henrik. “Three Varieties of Panentheism,” in In Whom We Live and Move and Have Our Being: Panentheistic Reflections on God’s Presence in a Scientific World, Arthur Peacocke and Philip Clayton, eds. (19-35).

Some questions from a thoughtful reader have prompted me to provide some helpful (I hope) information on panentheism, including:

• a fundamental definition of panentheism
• the basic features of panentheism

Definition
I included this in yesterday’s essay. It’s from the Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church:

The belief that the Being of God includes and penetrates the whole universe, so that every part of it exists in Him, but…that His being is more than, and is not exhausted by, the universe.

But note this caveat by one of the writers, Michael W. Brierley, from In Whom We Live and Move and Have Our Being (the book that is the subject of my two prior essays on panentheism) :

It is a weak definition, because it goes very little beyond the literal meaning of the word. The statement that God ‘includes’ the universe merely states the literal meaning ‘all in God,’ with God as subject, leaving ‘penetration’ as the only gloss on what God’s ‘inclusion’ of the universe, or the universe’s existence ‘in’ God might actually mean. The question therefore remains: In what sense does the universe exist in God? It may be that this lack of precision in the meaning of the term ‘all in God’ is responsible for some of the ‘tantalizing ambiguities’ which ’seem to plague panentheistic discussion.’

Alrighty! Those are some thoughts to ponder over the weekend.

Basic Features
Brierley also presents eight basic features as being common to panentheistic views. Panentheists may include all or some of these. (Note, Brierley provides some hefty descriptions. I simply offer a short list of features. I encourage you to read his excellent essay. Please see the citation below):

• The cosmos described as God’s body (the metaphors vary wildly!).
• Use of the language of “in and through” to talk about God-cosmos relations.
• The cosmos described as sacramental.
• Use of language of “inextricable intertwining” to describe the ways in which God and cosmos are distinct but inseparable.
• If the cosmos is God’s body, then God is in some way dependent on the cosmos (not necessarily this cosmos, but some cosmos. Again, the interpretations differ enormously).
• The cosmos are intrinsically valuable (although at least one theologian prefers to think of the cosmos not as valuable, but as neutral).
• God viewed as suffering with creation (the doctrine of passibility)
• Christ thought of as “different from other persons by degree rather than kind” (degree Christology)

That’s the rundown. I’ll talk a bit more about some of these in future essays.

Also…

Coming up within the next couple of days: Typology of Panentheism _____________________________________________________________________________

Works cited
Brierley, Michael W. “Naming a Quiet Revolution: The Panentheistic Turn in Modern Theology,” in In Whom We Live and Move and Have Our Being: Panentheistic Reflections on God’s Presence in a Scientific World, Arthur Peacocke and Philip Clayton, eds. (1-15).

This is the second in a series of essays on panentheism (”all in God”) as discussed in a collection of essays entitled In Whom We Live and Move and Have Our Being .

Prior essay
Panentheism: The Revival

God in the World
According to Arthur Peacocke and Philip Clayton, modern science has been the primary impetus behind the revival of panentheism. The absentee God of classical theism who created a static world at some distant point in the past and who occasionally intervenes by way of miracles is no longer tenable in light of modern understandings about physics, biology, and evolution (Peacocke xxi).

As Peacocke tells us, modern scientists do not need to invoke the supernatural to explain how the universe and life on earth came to be (xx). The consequence for classical theism is that science has raised the bar on how it is that God can have any influence on the world (xx). Further, if one believes it was God who gave order to the universe, it has become increasingly difficult to defend the position that God intervenes to abrogate God’s own laws (xx).

Peacocke uses the following definition of panentheism from the Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church:

The belief that the Being of God includes and penetrates the whole universe, so that every part of it exists in Him, but…that His being is more than, and is not exhausted by, the universe (xviii).

A major issue for panentheists in light of modern science revolves closely around the issue of divine intervention. The question of how God can be actively involved with the world without reference to a supernatural middle ground forms the crux of the panentheist’s challenge. For while panentheists believe it is imperative that theologians take account of scientific findings, they are committed to simultaneously maintaining God’s unique and separate identity.

Hence, a theological tension is inherent in panentheism; if theologians lean too far toward either immanence or transcendence, they may fall into pantheism or deism respectively. How can theologians conceive of the relationship between God immanent and transcendent while providing a defensible understanding of divine action in the face of contemporary science (Peacocke xviii, xxii)?

Painting: “Mother of Birds,” Pamela Yates, copyright Pamela Yates, www.pamelayates.com

This is the first in a series of essays I’ll be posting on the subject of panentheism (”all in God”) as discussed in a collection of essays entitled In Whom We Live and Move and Have Our Being.

Introduction
During a conversation with my mother not long ago, she told me she thinks God is no longer in the world the way he was for the people in the Bible. Her explanation was that people today are so distracted by worldly things, they no longer care about God, and so he has turned away. Conceptually, I think she’s largely correct. God is “gone” from the world for many people, even for believers, not because God has abandoned us, but because we have a long history of pushing God out to the cosmos.

The panentheists who contribute to In Whom We Live and Move and Have Our Being would agree. As Arthur Peacocke writes, Christian theology encompasses an “ancient immanent strand” (137), despite the deistic conception of God that arose in its most extreme form during the Enlightenment. This was God the clockmaker, who created the world out of nothing (ex nihilo), and established the rational principles by which it could run on its own. But Newton, Boyle, and other Enlightenment scientists had some help from the church. The doctrine of creation ex nihilo was the brain child of a few early church fathers (e.g., Tertullian and Irenaeus) in response to the gnostic’s demonization of matter.

The church reinforced supernaturalism in the early modern period to substantiate its claim that Christianity is the one true religion (Griffin 38). It seems then that science and religion have both played a part in alienating God. That notwithstanding, today, panentheists are looking to science for insight in reconceptualizing God-world relations in a way that brings God back into intimate connection with the world (Peacocke xx). In my upcoming posts, I’ll provide an overview of some of the theological perspectives that I believe represent the range of panentheistic views in this collection and panetheism’s basic features.

Works cited:
Clayton, Philip and Arthur Peacocke. In Whom We Live and Move and Have Our Being: Panentheistic Reflections on God’s Presence in a Scientific World. Philip Clayton and Arthur Peacocke, eds. William B. Eerdsman Publishing Company (Grand Rapids: 2004).

Painting: “Deer Stories,” Pamela Yates, copyright, Pamela Yates

For those interested in animals and our relationships with them, I’d like to recommend the Encyclopedia of Human-Animal Relationships. This is a four-volume work with entries written by experts in the vast area of human-animal relations. For more information, see this write up on Practical Ethics by William Lynn.

You can also find information at Amazon.com. Note — it’s expensive. Most of us will need to go to the library for it. But it’s a great resource for animal lovers willing to make the trip!

This post is a continuation of several prior essays:

Genes, Genesis and God: Introduction
Genes, Genesis and God: Natural Genesis
Genes, Genesis and God: Cultural Genesis
Genes, Genesis, and God: Science and Religion in Dialogue

In Genes, Genesis, and God, Holmes Rolston conducts a “study in self-identity” (xiv). Much of his argument for the human exodus from nature rests on a distinction between moral animals (humans) and premoral animals (all the rest). Rolston argues that, since humans are the only moral creatures, their behaviors alone can be described in terms such as selfish, just, loving, charitable, and so on. It is a category error to refer to nonhuman animals in such cultural terms, and he focuses much of his attention on refuting the pejorative selfish paradigm, which he argues (and I agree with him) egregiously misrepresents the natural and cultural realms.

At the same time, he claims that when humans behave selfishly, they fall away from the “godly ideal,” back to a state of “beastliness” (300). This appears inconsistent with his belief that animals are premoral, and would seem to demean them. Although, given his strong respect for the goodness of animals and nature, and his concern for not reading culture into the natural world, I am reasonably certain this is not intentional.

However, a descriptor such as beastliness, like the term selfishness, risks reinforcing negative ideas about nature and animals. It sounds as if he is juxtaposing moral humans against immoral nature. The “falling back to beastliness” metaphor also underplays the seriousness of poor human behavior, which is not premoral, but either amoral, or more often, immoral
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My sweetheart left his coffee cup in the microwave this morning. This is not unusual. He has a funny habit of leaving it in different places around the house, then forgetting where he put it.

Often, he comes into the kitchen, refills his cup, nukes it, then leaves the room. Hours later, it’s still in the microwave. It was particularly poignant this morning because he had just left for a trip. When I found the cup half filled (half, never full — another idiosyncrasy) with stone-cold coffee, I was reminded of how much I love him. These little goofy things make him him. They and he make me very happy.

In what ways is God present in our lives? How do we experience sacredness and how would we describe this if asked? Some time ago, I came to realize that I feel God’s presence most strongly in certain engagements with others (especially with animals) by which I mean both living creatures and nonliving entities.

For me, a sense of sacredness may arise during a philosophical discussion with a friend, while walking in a field, or during a good cuddle with my dogs. I have found the “I-Thou” model of relating by the late Jewish philosopher and educator, Martin Buber, immensely helpful for conceiving of my experiences of divinity.

Buber explains that most of us move through life eminently disengaged from the world. We behave as bounded “Its” swimming amongst a sea of objects that we perceive as merely existing in time and space. I-Thou relating is a conceptual model for breaking past our tendencies to alienate ourselves from the world and to objectify those people and things we experience in our daily lives.

Buber encourages us to turn seemingly distant experiences into opportunities to engage fully with whole embodied beings (humans and animals) and meaningful entities (a tree, a painting, a piece of music) who act on us as we, in turn, act on them. This requires a conscious engagement involving the intellect, senses, emotions, and spirit. It is in the “between” of the encounter where we glimpse God’s eternalness.

A practice that I’ve found helpful for developing a capacity for I-Thou relationships is exercise, specifically, vigorous walking, jogging, or running outdoors in almost any place, but especially within natural settings. For me, it’s important that the activity is slow enough that I take time to notice what’s going on around me. Exercise allows my body to open up to the immediate environment—to breath in the air, to focus on the sound of the birds, the rustling of the trees, the sensation of wind on the face, and the steady rhythm as each foot touches the ground. My sensory experience is heightened and I begin to feel my bodily boundary as permeable and continuous with my surroundings. Exercise as a spiritual practice has been key for developing my awareness of God as immanent (in the world).

We each have our own practices for encountering the divine in every day life. In what ways do you spiritually engage with the world? Are there theological or philosophical concepts that help you do that?