A Theological Interpretation of the Prospect of Other Life Forms in the Universe, Part I

A fascinating article entitled "The Far, Far Future of Stars" appears in last month's issue of Scientific American.  The article, written by Donald Goldsmith, delves into what he calls "[s]cientific eschatology"¹ and explains, so far as astrophysicists can tell, what will be the future of the universe.

Goldsmith contends that the nature of the universe in the future will be hospitable to new forms of life.  The reason why the prognosis of the future universe is full of life, although the sun is projected to burn out in roughly five billion years, is that newer generations of stars have heavier elements than previous generations.  "The extraheavy elements should... favor the birth of planets, along with stars, and thus the prospects for life in the universe," states Goldsmith.  He grants that, at least initially, "the proliferation of planets does not seem promising for life" since many of the stars in the distant future will be significantly "less luminous than the sun."  However, continues Goldsmith, "A star with as little as one one-thousandth of the sun's luminosity can maintain temperatures that allow liquids to exist on close-in planets, satisfying what seems to be a requirement for living things to exist."²

NGC 7027, Planetary Nebula, courtesy of the Smithsonian Institute, on Flickr

Goldsmith is optimistic that the future of the universe will be filled with life.  He explains why in the following passage:

[L]ife on earth, as well as almost all other forms of life that scientists speculate about, depends on the existence of carbon, nitrogen, and oxygen.  As time goes on, the increasing relative abundance of these elements should yield planets more hospitable to life.  Therefore, as star formation steadily diminishes, every newborn star should appear with a progressively greater probability of lighting one or more potential life-bearing planets.  Some of these new stars will have the low masses and tiny luminosities that allow them to last for hundreds or thousands of billions of years (not that such immense lifetimes seem necessary for the origin and evolution of life).  However full or empty of life the universe may be today, it should teem with more abundant and more varied forms of life in the future.³

Statistically, the odds are in favor of the existence of other forms of life in the universe, and the odds will only continue to increase.  There are three broad theological implications to the prospect of other life in the universe.  The first is perhaps the most obvious, and that is the munificence of God.  The second implication is soteriological in nature.  The third is eschatological.  I will devote a blog post for each of these implications.

In this blog post I will discuss the unfathomable richness of the depths of God.  Jesus called himself "the way, and the truth, and the life" (John 14:6, RSV).  So too, the Holy Spirit is called the one who "gives life" (John 6:63, RSV).  God is the author and source of life and sustains life through his loving regard, i.e. his thought.  This doctrine has its roots in Plato's philosophy.  Plato's theory of the forms is well known.  Essentially, it is the idea that everything that exists has its counterpart in another world, a pure world, of forms, and that everything that exists participates in these pure forms.  Christian theologians modified Plato's theory of the forms and reasoned to what they call the divine ideas.  Essentially, the rationale behind the concept of the divine ideas is that God has an idea of everything that exists - otherwise, they would not exist, since God's being is the source of the being of everything else.  Like Plato, theologians associated beings in this universe with another order.  Unlike Plato, however, theologians saw all things as rooted in a personal God as opposed to a world of forms.  The existence of other life forms would testify to the divine creativity.  The abundance of life on earth already testifies to God's creativity.  One has only to consider that there are approximately 8.7 million species on the earth.  With the possibility of there being literally millions of earth-like planets in the universe, with each earth having millions of species, the extent of life in the universe becomes impressive indeed.

Of course, it could also be argued that life is unique to earth and that this demonstrates the fragile nature of life on earth, the particular love of God for human beings, and his particular concern for the earth.  Perhaps life is unique to earth.  Whether or not life is unique to earth, either the superabundance of God on the one hand or a special concern and tenderness on the other is manifested by the extent of life.  God's glory and majesty are held intact either way.  My opinion is that there probably are other intelligent life forms and that if there aren't now, it is likely that they will develop in the future.  This development, however, would be a part of God's plan rather than being the result of random evolution.  It is important for Christians to insist on a divine hand in evolutionary processes - otherwise, the development of the universe and of humanity would be the product of chance and fate.  This is the ancient teaching of the Greek philosopher Epicurus (341-270 BC), and many people today ascribe to sophisticated forms of both his cosmology and his emphasis on pleasure as the goal of human life.  That these two views go together is not accidental.

The variety of life on earth even now attests to God's generosity and his overflowing goodness.  The presence of life in other corners of the universe would amplify our knowledge of the scope of God's munificence.  The discovery of alien life would not add anything new to God, but it would give us a greater insight into his grandeur. 

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1. Donald Goldsmith, "The Far, Far Future of Stars," Scientific American (March 2012), 34.^↩

2. Ibid., 36.^↩

3. Ibid., 38.^↩

Benedict XVI's Cosmic Soteriology and Environmentalism

Pope Benedict XVI is beyond doubt a world class theologian.  His theology (thanks in large part to Ignatius Press) is highly accessible to the English-speaking world and has had a profound impact on society.  He has been described as the "greenest pope in history" thanks to his advocacy of environmentalism and his emphasis on respect for creation.¹  In his encyclical letter Caritas in Veritate, the pontiff writes, "The Church has a responsibility towards creation and she must assert this responsibility in the public sphere."²

Crater Lake, Oregon
CC image courtesy of Stuart Seeger on Flickr

The underpinnings of the pontiff's environmentalism are highly theological.  For Benedict, the entire cosmos shares in the salvation brought about by Christ.  He describes the cosmic scope of salvation in the final paragraph of Eschatology:

Heaven will only be complete when all the members of the Lord’s body are gathered in.  Such completion on the part of the body of Christ includes, as we have seen, the ‘resurrection of the flesh.’  It is called the ‘Parousia’ inasmuch as then the presence of Christ, so far only inaugurated among us, will reach its fulness and encompass all those who are to be saved and the whole cosmos with them.  And so heaven comes in two historical stages.  The Lord’s exaltation gives rise to the new unity of God with man, and hence to heaven.  The perfecting of the Lord’s body in the pleroma of the ‘whole Christ’ brings heaven to its true cosmic completion.  Let us say it once more before we end: the individual’s salvation is whole and entire only when the salvation of the cosmos and all the elect has come to full fruition.  For the redeemed are not simply adjacent to each other in heaven.  Rather, in their being together as the one Christ, they are heaven.  In that moment, the whole creation will become song.  It will be a single act in which, forgetful of self, the individual will break through the limits of being into the whole, and the whole take up its dwelling in the individual.  It will be joy in which all questioning is resolved and satisfied.³

The basis for Benedict's insistence that human beings respect creation is that both humanity and the rest of creation share the same destiny, a destiny designed by God and fulfilled in Christ.

In addition to his ecological moral injunctions, Benedict explicitly associates environmental issues with life issues and argues that the two are inseparable:

The deterioration of nature is in fact closely connected to the culture that shapes human coexistence: when “human ecology” is respected within society, environmental ecology also benefits. Just as human virtues are interrelated, such that the weakening of one places others at risk, so the ecological system is based on respect for a plan that affects both the health of society and its good relationship with nature . . . If there is a lack of respect for the right to life and to a natural death, if human conception, gestation and birth are made artificial, if human embryos are sacrificed to research, the conscience of society ends up losing the concept of human ecology and, along with it, that of environmental ecology. It is contradictory to insist that future generations respect the natural environment when our educational systems and laws do not help them to respect themselves. The book of nature is one and indivisible: it takes in not only the environment but also life, sexuality, marriage, the family, social relations: in a word, integral human development. Our duties towards the environment are linked to our duties towards the human person, considered in himself and in relation to others. It would be wrong to uphold one set of duties while trampling on the other. Herein lies a grave contradiction in our mentality and practice today: one which demeans the person, disrupts the environment and damages society.⁴

Human beings need to respect the environment but they cannot respect it unless they respect their own humanity.  Abortion, euthanasia, and the exploitation of human beings for the sake of technological development cannot be ignored at the expense of the exploitation of the earth - these two tasks are mutually interrelated.  One cannot truly care about the environment if one is unconcerned that there are millions of abortions occurring in our own country, and one cannot truly care about human beings if one is unconcerned about the way companies and individuals harm the environment through the dumping of chemical wastes and other ecological disasters that occur throughout the world.  Benedict is right to see that these two concerns are connected.  We must, as a Church destined for salvation in Christ with the rest of creation, care for creation too, and fulfill our Adamic role as stewards of creation.

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1. Benedict XVI and Woodeene Koenig-Bricker, Ten Commandments for the Environment: Pope Benedict XVI Speaks Out for Creation and Justice (Notre Dame, Ind.: Ave Maria, 2009), 8.^↩

2. Benedict XVI, Caritas in Veritate (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 2009), 51. http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/benedict_xvi/encyclicals/documents/hf_ben-xvi_enc_20090629_caritas-in-veritate_en.html.^↩

3. Joseph Ratzinger, Eschatology: Death and Eternal Life, trans. Michael Waldstein, 2nd ed. (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1988), 237-238.^↩

4. Caritas in Veritate, 51.^↩

Children of God

Lucy Agnes, b. 1/21/12

My wife gave birth to our daughter, Lucy Agnes, exactly one week ago.  It's really wonderful being so close to new life!  Reflecting on her makes me think of what it means to be a child of God.  It means completely trusting in God, depending on him for everything, and recognizing that compared to God, we are like infants: small, helpless, weak, but full of potential.  We are to become children of God by believing in Jesus Christ.  As the Gospel of John relates, "But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God; who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God" (John 1:12-13, RSV).

I think that it is sometimes difficult for theologians to capture the essence of being a child of God in their lives.  Psalm 131 brings out the challenges involved in simultaneously striving to be a child of God while being a theologian:

O LORD, my heart is not lifted up,

my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things

too great and too marvelous for me.

But I have calmed and quieted my soul,

like a child quieted at its mother's breast;

like a child that is quieted is my soul.

O Israel, hope in the LORD
from this time forth and for evermore.

                        - Psalm 131, RSV

The Psalmist emphasizes peace and calmness of soul as opposed to seeking "great" things.  It is never specified what type of things the Psalmist is referring to.  Are these things material possessions?  A kingdom and everything that comes with it?  Ideas that cannot be grasped by the intellect?

There are many things a theologian cannot grasp completely, things which are too high for the theologian since theology is the study of God and things related to God.  Theology deals with supra-rational realities. The mind is not able to grasp these realities except through a humble act of faith in what is passed on by tradition.  But the theologian is also called to press beyond the present theological understanding of a doctrine since this is the way theology works.  Truth itself, though passed on in its fullness to the Church, is still in the process of being fully understood.  Although the Church possesses the fullness of the truth, it does not yet know the fullness of the truth since it is continually being better understood.  According to Dei Verbum, the Second Vatican Council's dogmatic constitution on divine revelation, "as the centuries go by, the church is always advancing towards the plenitude of divine truth, until eventually the words of God are fulfilled in it" (Dei Verbum, ¶8).

Theologians have a dual vocation of being theologians as well as being children of God.  They are stretched in two different but compatible directions.  While endeavoring to acquire a profounder understanding of mysteries too great for human beings, they are also to approach their work with a profound humility, recognizing that they are nothing whereas God is everything.  Looking at Lucy reminds me of my call to be a child of God even as I strive to comprehend the profound truths revealed in and through Jesus Christ.

Theology and Holiness

Theology is an academic endeavor whose subject matter is God.  This does not mean, however, that a theologian is automatically going to be a holy or pious person.  In chapter 5 of The Great Divorce, C. S. Lewis presents a portrait of a theologian who was consigned to Hell.  At one point in the course of this theologian's career, theology became a means of exercising his intellect rather than a subject that contains truth.  For him, theology was merely a cerebral game and had ceased to be the search for answers to his deepest questions.

Even the best theologians often struggle with their learning and the quest for holiness through humble faith.  Cardinal Ratzinger (Pope Benedict XVI) expresses the tension St. Paul experienced as a theologian in the following passage:

How does Paul reconcile his scorn for the wisdom of the Greeks with his own spiritual struggle to comprehend the content of faith - a struggle that would have been unthinkable without the legacy of Hebrew and Greek learning?  How are the two combined in the history of faith - the constant reference to the unlearned and the steady development of scholarly theological knowledge?  The question is of prime importance because it reflects the debate that is still in progress, despite the lapse of time, about the foundation, the possibility and the direction of a coexistence of faith and learning.¹

An extremely erudite Jew, Paul had the Jewish Scriptures echoing in his mind.  He knew of the praise it heaped on the wise man who sought to know and follow the Law.  Yet, Paul was also aware of the sayings of Jesus, who extolled simplicity over learning when he declared in prayer, "I thank thee, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to babes" (Luke 10:21, RSV).  Paul himself was aware of the dangers of learning when he wrote to the Corinthians, "'Knowledge' puffs up, but love builds up.  If any one imagines that he knows something, he does not yet know as he ought to know.  But if one loves God, one is known by him" (1 Cor. 8:1-3).  Although Paul is divided between learning and a simple faith, one thing is clear for him: knowledge is nothing compared to charity, which is at the heart of Christianity.

At the same time however, Paul understood that charity includes sharing with others the saving truth of Jesus Christ, a truth which theology seeks to understand as fully as possible (cf. 1 Tim. 2:4).  Ratzinger expresses the same idea when he explains, "The love that is required by faith and that belongs to its innermost nature does not exclude the other's need for truth . . . faith that reaches out to the other reaches out of necessity to his questioning as well."²

Fast-forwarding to today, the academic discipline of theology has multiplied extensively. There are many theology graduate students throughout the world who are or will be vying for the top faculty positions at various institutions of higher education.  Theologians should keep in mind that theology is intrinsically related to holiness since the subject of theology is God.  The same tension that existed in Paul nearly two-thousand years ago also exists in many theologians today.

Cologne Cathedral, image courtesy of Connie on Pixdaus

In the 20th century, the theologian whose theology was perhaps the most explicitly related to the quest for holiness is Hans Urs von Balthasar.  Von Balthasar described his theology as a "kneeling theology."³  Edward T. Oakes compares von Balthasar's theology to a Gothic cathedral which can function as a sort of museum for secular visitors, but which was intended to be a place of worship for the Faithful.⁴  Von Balthasar insists that theology should not merely be an academic exercise but should be something edifying and sanctifying.

Von Balthasar's example should lead theologians to reflect on the reasons why he or she does theology.  Is it just to acquire or keep a job?  Is it to occupy one's mind with intellectually scintillating information?  Is it to be able to boast to others about one's advanced degrees?  Is it just to do something rather than nothing so as to ward off boredom?  Or is it for reasons that are altogether on a higher plane of nobility?

Is it to constantly remind oneself of God?  Is it to consider the universe from the divine perspective? Is it to come into contact with edifying information so as to build up oneself and others?  Is it to mold, shape and carefully develop students who will in turn become teachers of other students?  Is it to serve the people of God, utilize one's God given talents and, in so doing, to fulfill one's vocation?⁵

A Dominican once imparted to me the following words of wisdom: "My desk has been my cross. Although it has been hard work, my life as a Dominican has been very rewarding."  The cross is indeed the image of every theologian's vocation.  Just as Christ gave himself up for the Church, so too should theologians give up themselves so as to serve the Church.

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1. Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Principles of Catholic Theology: Building Stones for a Fundamental Theology, trans. Sister Mary Frances McCarthy, S.N.D. (San Francisco: Ignatius, 1987), 336.^↩

2. Ibid., 337.^↩

3. Edward T. Oakes, Pattern of Redemption: The Theology of Hans Urs von Balthasar (New York: Continuum, 1994), 7.^↩

4. Ibid., 7-8.^↩

5. For more information on what the Catholic Church teaches about the vocation of theologians, see Donum Veritatis: On the Ecclesial Vocation of the Theologian.^↩

The Theological Method of St. Thomas Aquinas

St. Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274) is one of the theological giants in the history of Christian theology.  Assimilating much of what came before him and providing insights to generations of theologians after him, Thomas's work is truly enduring.  His magnum opus, the Summa Theologica, is one of the greatest theological achievements of all time.

Thomas Aquinas in Stained Glass
CC image by Thomas Gun on Flickr via Wikipedia

Thomas is viewed differently by different theologians.  Some view him as insightful in his day but as not touching on any topics that are presently relevant.  Others see him as giving the answers to practically everything related to theology.  Thomists and neo-Thomists uphold Thomas as the ultimate theologian.  Indeed, he provides a model for theologians that remains unparalleled.  However, the method of Thomas and the methods of Thomists and neo-Thomists are often separated by a chasm.

The method of the Angelic Doctor was to read widely and to assimilate everything which was good and useful into his theology.  Not only did his research lead him to draw extensively from the Fathers of the Church (Eastern and Western alike) as well as contemporary theologians, but he also made use of the writings of thinkers from other religions.  The most famous non-Christian source in Thomas's work is Aristotle, whom Thomas called the Philosopher.  In addition to engaging with Greek philosophy, Thomas also made use of the writings of Jews and Muslims.  The radical nature of his utilization of other sources is illustrated by the ire it drew from Stephen Tempier, the bishop of Paris, who seemingly aimed some of his condemnations of 1277 at Thomas's writings.

By contrast, Thomists and neo-Thomists often restrict their study to the writings of Thomas and commentators on Thomas.  When they do go outside of their purview, it is usually to critique other theologians in light of Thomas's theology.  Even when their interaction with other theologians is favorable, they most certainly do not engage with Jewish and Muslim thinkers as Thomas did.  To be fair, Thomism has produced great fruit in the Church.  I am merely suggesting that Thomists ought to imitate Thomas more closely in his method.

St. Thomas is indeed a theological master to be emulated, but theologians must be willing to follow the essence of his theological method.  Of course, the scholastic method would be out of place in today's theological literature - scholasticism is accidental to the essence of his method, which was to analyze many theological sources and synthesize a multitude of insights into one coherent system.

For Thomas, no one was the master except for Jesus Christ.  For us too, no one should be the master except for Jesus Christ.  What this means is that even though we recognize Thomas as a master, we should not hold his theology to be the insurmountable peak of theology.  This would be an unhealthy disposition leading to theological stultification.  Authentic Thomism is characterized by adherence to the method of Thomas, a method constituted by moving beyond what has come before and engaging in dialogue with secular philosophers and with those of other religious tenets while remaining uncompromising regarding the truths of the Faith and the saving message of God's love to the world in Jesus Christ.

The Divine Origin of Newness

At the end of the book of Revelation, Jesus proclaims, "Behold, I make all things new" (Rev. 21:5).  Newness is a theme that is closely associated with divine action.  The power to bestow newness belongs only to the One who is eternal, the One who has no beginning.  But just because God has no beginning does not mean he lacks newness.  St. Augustine writes in the Confessions, "Late have I loved Thee, O Beauty so ancient and so new; late have I loved Thee!"¹  Although God is the ancient One, he is also the One who is eternally new.

St. Augustine of Hippo
Source: www.turnbacktogod.com/st-augustine-of-hippo/

The beginning of the year is an opportunity for reflection.  It is a time for looking back at the past year and for looking ahead at what the new year holds in store.  Above all, it is a time of renewal.  Such renewal cannot take place apart from God since he is the source of newness.  He is the origin of time itself.  He set the earth revolving around the sun, causing each New Year to occur.

This New Year, I pray that all of us will be renewed in faith and love, rejoicing in the newness God offers to each of us through the mercy, grace and forgiveness of sins brought about by the gift of his Son to the world.  Although many challenges will face us this year, we can rest assured that God will guide our steps so long as we trust in him.  May we all be rejuvenated as we dedicate this year to God.  Happy New Year and God bless!

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1. Augustine, Confessions, trans. F. J. Sheed, ed. Michael P. Foley, 2^nd ed., (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2006), 210 [X.27.38].^↩

The Growth of our Understanding of Sacred Tradition

The phenomenon of tradition is something intrinsic to humanity.  To be a human being means to be the recipient of language, customs, regulations, and above all, a wealth of knowledge accumulated over the course of centuries.  Whereas animals receive truly remarkable instincts from nature, human beings rely on tradition.  Technology itself is a powerful example of tradition - it is a handing down of practical discoveries.  Human techne far surpasses that of the animals.  Even if one were to argue that animals pass down certain traditions or customs or knowledge, the degree and scope of humanity’s collective historical consciousness essentially demarcates human beings from the rest of the animals.

The etymology of “tradition” is revealing.  The word comes from the Latin tradere, which means “to hand down.”  Traditions are handed down generationally.  Every tradition has a source from which it emerged.  From the many sources of traditions come the traditions which shape the human world.

Vatican II | Source: scriptoriumdaily.com

Like secular traditions, Sacred Tradition is something which is handed down to successive generations.  Unlike secular traditions however, the origin of Sacred Tradition is God.  The primary “object” which he hands down is Jesus, the incarnate Word (cf. John 3:16).  Jesus hands down to his disciples the words of the Father (John 17:8) and the disciples, through the assistance of the Holy Spirit (John 14:26), hand down the words of Jesus to subsequent disciples.  Sacred Tradition is a handing down of the revelation God has given to the world in and through Jesus Christ.

The great Dominican theologian Yves Congar describes Sacred Tradition as "an offering by which . . . a multitude of people, physically separated . . . by space and time, are incorporated in the same unique, identical reality, which is the Father's gift . . . the saving truth, the divine Revelation made in Jesus Christ."  In other words, Sacred Tradition is a divine unifying force which transcends the normal human limitations imposed by space and time. Congar continues, "Tradition is the sharing of a treasure, which itself remains unchanging; it represents a victory over time and its transience, over space and the separation caused by distance."¹  Sacred Tradition contains eternal truth, i.e. the revelation of God the Father.  The object of this truth, Jesus Christ, who is himself the Truth, remains unchanging.

Although "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and for ever" (Heb 13:8, RSV), the theological understanding of the content of the revelation given through Jesus Christ is subject to change.  The changes which the understanding of Sacred Tradition is subject to are not based on a relativistic understanding of truth or on pluralism – instead, the changes of the theological understanding of Sacred Tradition are predicated upon the collision between the Tradition as it was understood in the past with present experiences.  In other words, it is a fusing of what has been handed down with present experiential knowledge.  Joseph Ratzinger (now Pope Benedict XVI) expresses this idea in the following passage from Principles of Catholic Theology:

Together, memory and speech offer a model of the relationship of tradition and time.  For memory works to give meaning by establishing unity, by communicating the past to the present and by providing a mode of access to the future.  It reveals itself as true memory, on the one hand, by faithfully preserving the past and, on the other hand, by understanding this past in a new way in the light of present experiences and thus facilitating man’s advance into the future.  As for speech, it is essentially as something bestowed, something received, that it fulfills its function of conferring unity.  The condition of its effectiveness is its permanence.  Yet, at the same time, it fulfills its function of preserving history only if it is open to the ever new experiences of new generations and so maintains its ability to give expression to the tradition that is continually in the process of formation, to the purification of tradition and hence to the history that is still to be made. ²

Tradition, theology, doctrines and faith are living entities.  They grow, they develop, they contain an inner dynamism which enables them to adapt so as to respond to the various philosophical, societal and human problems which arise in every age.  If they did not develop, they would be dead. 

The growth of the entities mentioned above is not open to development in any and every direction; these entities develop organically, as John Henry Cardinal Newman explains at length in An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine.  There is a necessary principle of continuity in theological growth and in the development of Sacred Tradition, just as there is a principle of continuity in the growth of a human being.  Although one undergoes many material changes throughout one’s lifetime, one’s identity remains the same; likewise, the identity of Sacred Tradition must be kept intact.

Furthermore, the material changes of organic growth occur under specific norms – if they do not follow these norms, an aberration of nature results.  Similarly, theological monstrosities are produced when there are deviations from the norms of theological development.  It is far easier, however, to recognize that there are norms for theological development than to actually enumerate and describe these norms.  I will save the discussion of these norms for another day.

Sacred Tradition is God’s gift to humanity, but it needs to be interpreted in light of present experiences without losing its identity.  Only then can theology grow and engage in dialogue with the modern world rather than retreating to an ivory tower, becoming more and more obsolete rather than remaining relevant.  Theological fusions of horizons, fusions characterized by the interpretation of what has been handed down to us from God the Father in light of our present situation, are imperative for the future of the Church.

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1. Yves Congar, O.P., The Meaning of Tradition, trans. A.N. Woodrow (San Francisco: Ignatius, 2004), 12.^↩

2. Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Principles of Catholic Theology: Building Stones for a Fundamental Theology, trans. Sister Mary Frances McCarthy, S.N.D. (San Francisco: Ignatius, 1987), 88.^↩

An Advent Reflection

Advent is a time of preparation, waiting, and expectation.  Israel had to wait nearly an entire millennium from the end of the reign of King David to the coming of the Son of David, Jesus Christ.  In this vast stretch of time, Israel endured a schism causing the division into the northern kingdom (Israel) and the southern kingdom (Judah), exile (Israel first in c. 720 B.C. and Judah later in 586 B.C.), a return from exile (538 B.C.) and foreign rule under various nations, a far cry from the ideal rule of Yahweh and his anointed as envisioned by the Psalms and the prophets.  From the glory of Solomon, David's successor, until the advent of Christ, the contours of the history of the people of Israel starts with an apogee, decreases to a nadir in the exile, and plateaus in an uncomfortable interim post-exilic period.

What I have described above is Israel's pre-incarnational perspective.  From the perspective of humanity, however, the time of waiting is longer.  Since its emergence on the earth, the human race has recognized something about itself which is deeply disturbing.  The earliest memories of humanity's collective consciousness is checkered with murders, lies and intrigue.  The gods were often depicted as tyrants who ruled the earth according to their whims, and human beings were seen as the mere playthings of the gods.  Shakespeare puts this thought in the following words: "As flies to wonton boys are we to th' gods, / They kill us for their sport" (King Lear, Act IV, scene 1, 36-37).  It took the coming of Christ to convince the gentiles (at least on a wide scale) that they are not subject to blind fate or indiscriminate chance and that instead God providentially oversees the activities of human beings.  God speaks to us lovingly through the incarnation.  As the Word, Jesus speaks the words of God to us in such a way that we can understand them.  Through his incarnation, the gentiles realized that God shares our lot.  God becomes a human being not only for the sake of solidarity but also to point the way back to God and to encourage us to believe and to trust in him.

I want to broaden the perspective of humanity to a cosmic perspective.  From the first moment of its creation, the universe was in a special relationship with God.  Created by God, the universe was entirely distinct from him.  There were two opposing forces, however, which led to the entrance of God into the universe through the incarnation.  The first is entropy and the second is evolutionary biological development.  St. Thomas Aquinas argues in Summa Theologica III, Q. 1, a. 3, resp. that the Son became incarnate so as to provide a remedy for sin, i.e. moral entropy, which the book of Genesis tethers to death, the ultimate end of an organism's biological entropy (cf. Gen. 2:17).  The means through which he became incarnate, however, is through the evolutionary development of human beings.

From the first moment of the universe's existence, the universe was progressing, eventually developing stars and galaxies.  One of these stars, the sun, had a planet revolving around it which would eventually form and sustain intelligent life in the form of human beings.  Christianity holds that God became one of these human beings in the person of Jesus Christ.  The entire pre-incarnational period (from creation to the incarnation) can be seen as a period of cosmic preparation for the entrance of God into the universe through the development of human beings.  For billions of years, matter had developed so as to allow for the incarnation in the birth of Jesus.  As Mary gave birth to her savior, so too did the universe give birth to its savior.  According to modern science, the iron in his blood, which was shed on the cross, was the result of a supernova, the violent death of a star.  And it is the light of a star (cf. Matt. 2:1-2; perhaps the "star" was Jupiter or a supernova) that first points the gentiles to the direction of Christ, who is "the light of the world" (John 8:12, RSV).

Three Wise Men, CC Image courtesy of ideacreamanuela2 on Flickr

This Advent and Christmas season, let us contemplate the national, human and cosmic scopes of the drama of the incarnation so as to cultivate a deeper appreciation for the momentous entrance of the Son of God into human history.  May we be inspired as we pray for the coming of Jesus into our hearts as he came into the universe through his birth at Bethlehem, and may his light lead us until "the morning star rises" (2 Pet. 1:19, RSV).

Thoughts on Cosmic Soteriology

The caption under the Rublev icon of the crucifixion, the permanent image to the right of my blog posts, expresses the cosmic import of the sacrificial death of Jesus.  According to St. Paul, "all things" (Col. 1:20) were reconciled through the blood of Jesus.  What does this mean?  One way of responding to this question would be to argue that this passage alludes to Gen. 3:16-19, which indicates that there was a rupture of the prelapsarian harmony that existed between human beings and the rest of creation.  This interpretation, however, fails to explain some of the problems that arise when considering some of the discoveries of modern science.

According to modern cosmology, the Big Bang occurred approximately 13.7 billion years ago.  It preexisted human beings by billions of years.  Since the universe was presumably as imperfect before human beings came onto the scene as it was after, how can the primary meaning of cosmic soteriology be that the relationship between human beings and the created order is healed?

Crab Nebula, CC Image courtesy of NASA's Marshall Space Flight Center on Flickr¹

Cosmic soteriology may be approached in at least two ways.  The first is to consider how the universe itself is saved and the second is to consider cosmic soteriology in light of the role of human beings.  In the first approach, the Christian faith says that the universe will be saved (whatever this entails) through the action of God as St. Paul writes in Colossians.  In the following passage from his letter to the Romans, Paul develops his cosmic soteriology further and explains what the universe will be saved from:

For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in travail together until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience (Rom. 8:20-25, RSV).

According to Paul, the universe is "subjected to futility" (8:20) and "will be set free from its bondage to decay" (8:21).  The scientific term that corresponds to what Paul is describing in this passage is entropy, i.e. the principle that left to itself, a system will tend towards a maximum state of disorder.  Paul links entropy with human existence in the present universe and insists that the eschatologies of human beings and of the universe are intertwined.  Both the universe and human beings were "subjected to futility" and both will obtain redemption, a redemption that occurs through the blood of Christ (Col. 1:20).

This passage resonates with the following prophecy from the book of Revelation: "Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away" (Rev. 21:1, RSV).  One can only speculate as to what this really means since it is beyond the understanding of human beings to know in any great detail what is to come (one has only to look to weathermen to see that this is true).  This is merely speculative, but I believe that it is a possibility that through God's action there will be a new stage of of the evolution of the universe that would allow for a quasi-physical human existence (i.e. in a glorified body) in a universe that shares a certain continuity with the old, just as our glorified bodies will share a certain continuity with our material bodies today.

Throughout the history of Christianity, human beings have been the primary focus of soteriology. Human beings are on the cutting edge of the evolution of the universe and are the crown of creation. Yet, human beings exist within the context of the universe - we cannot exist apart from the universe, regardless of our capabilities of abstraction.  Commenting on Romans 8, Adrienne von Speyr, the close friend of Hans Urs von Balthasar, expounds on the interconnectedness of human beings and the universe:

Even in the deepest solitude [man] cannot think of himself as being so exclusive as to have the promise of salvation for himself while perdition is threatening the created world.  Plants and animals belong to the sphere of his life, the wide earth, the intimacy of a home, the familiarity of a landscape.  He cannot separate himself from it even when he is a captive.  The world shares his destiny.  If he is imprisoned, so is the world.  When he, a captive, calls for liberation, he paints it in the images of the created world that has become inaccessible to him and is thus more than ever companion of his captivity and loneliness, thus accentuating his aloneness even more.  And as the whole of creation shares in the vanity, it also shares in the hope.  And hope means for creation in all its beauty and wildness, in its captivity, its dream of freedom, access to the Creator, to his presence and his love.  God showed the same love on the first day of creation that he showed on the Sabbath-day; he said: ‘It is very good’ to everything: the fishes and birds, the animals and man.²

A human being that is not in the universe is not a human being.  Similarly, the universe cannot be the universe as it is today without human beings.  The quote above suggests that human beings and the universe are saved together in one sweeping salvific motion of cosmic magnitude originating in the grace of Jesus Christ.  The salvation of human beings occurs in the context of the salvation of the cosmos, and human beings will be glorified together with the universe.

Von Balthasar has a similar view as von Speyr.  Celia Deane-Drummond comments on von Balthasar's vision of eschatology for creation: “While [von Balthasar] is somewhat hesitant in spelling out the eschatological future in any detail, he is clear that creation as a whole is the object of future glory while also sharing in a ‘radical dying and rising’.”³  In other words, according to von Balthasar, the universe will follow in the footsteps of Jesus' suffering, death and and resurrection.  This seems logically congruent with the Scriptures since it is through the cross that the world (cosmos in Greek) is saved:

[A]s Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.  For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him (John 3:14-17, RSV).

Although the details of what is to come are shrouded in mystery, the subject of the salvation and glorification of the universe and the participation of human beings in cosmic redemption provides ample material to contemplate and think about. 

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       1. Credit: NASA, ESA, J. Hester, A. Loll (ASU).^↩

       2. Adrienne von Speyr, The Victory of Love: A Meditation on Romans 8, trans. Sister Lucia Wiedenhöver, O.C.D. (San Francisco: Ignatius, 1990), 66.^↩
 

       3. Celia Deane-Drummond, “The Breadth of Glory: A Trinitarian Eschatology for the Earth through Critical Engagement with Hans Urs von Balthasar,”  International Journal of Systematic Theology 12 no. 1 (January 2010): 54-55.^↩

Introduction: Theological Fusions

Hans-Georg Gadamer by Dora Mittenzwei
Source: http://tacitknowingblog.blogspot.com/2009/10/hans-georg-gadamer.html

What is a "theological fusion"?  Hans-Georg Gadamer (1900-2002) was a German philosopher who studied under Martin Heidegger.  He articulated a concept that he called the "fusion of horizons" in Truth and Method, a philosophical work he wrote on hermeneutics.  Gadamer explains the concept of the fusion of horizons in the following passage:

In fact, the horizon of the present is continually in the process of being formed because we are continually having to test all our prejudices.  An important part of this testing occurs in encountering the past and in understanding the tradition from which we come.  Hence the horizon of the present cannot be formed without the past.  There is no more an isolated horizon of the present in itself than there are historical horizons which have to be acquired.  Rather, the understanding is always the fusion of these horizons supposedly existing by themselves.  We are familiar with the power of this kind of fusion chiefly from earlier times and their naivete about themselves and their heritage.  In a tradition this process of fusion is continually going on, for there old and new are always combining into something of living value, without either being explicitly foregrounded from the other.¹

According to Gadamer, human beings are historically conditioned entities who have limited experiences and intellectual vision.  When an individual interprets a text she must interpret what she is reading in light of her limited knowledge and subjective experiences (i.e. her present horizon).  As a result of this encounter with a text, in the act of understanding the individual's horizon (which is conditioned by the present) is fused with the horizon of the author of said text.  This fusion is not simply a conglomeration of horizons in which the two are confused; rather, what happens is that the reader recognizes the limitations of the horizon of the author and "as the historical horizon is projected, it is simultaneously superseded."²

The "fusion of horizons," at least as Gadamer conceived it, is predicated on the assumption that a single world-view cannot express the truth of the world as it is in itself.  In other words, one's horizon is necessarily limited - no one can experience or express the fullness of the truth.  On the surface, this might seem problematic for Christians.  Some Christians might think that they have full access to the truth since they believe in Jesus, who is "the way, and the truth, and the life" (John 14:6, RSV).  This view contains an ounce of truth in it since through their belief they have access to Jesus Christ, the Word of God made flesh, but this does not mean that they have access to unmediated truth through their faith.  Christians are not able to have access to unmediated truth even through the Bible since it is a mediated reality.

Allow me to clarify my stance on truth a little more for those readers who might accuse me of not believing in objective reality.  I firmly believe that truth exists and that human beings can have some level of understanding of the truth; however, I also am aware that there are a multiplicity of viewpoints and perspectives which call into question the ability of human beings to know the truth in its entirety.  Since truth exists people's viewpoints necessarily get either closer to the truth or further away from it.  In other words, it is possible to approach the truth in this life, but it is not possible to grasp it entirely.  At the same time, the Church insists that it is possible for one to know what is sufficient in order for a human being to spiritually prosper and properly fulfill his role in the universe.  In other words, the well-formed Christian's grasp of the truth is simultaneously characterized by incompleteness and sufficiency.

One of my primary philosophical assumptions is that although human beings have a limited grasp of the truth, there is a horizon which contains all truth: God's horizon.  This might lead a thoughtful person to ask, "But isn't God infinite?  How can he have a horizon?"  Yes, God is infinite, but He is who He is; He is not more than who He is.  In this sense, God does have a horizon: his own being and identity.  Although God is circumscribed by himself, his being is the grounding of all contingent beings.  Containing all things in himself, God's vision is limitless.  In contrast to the infinite scope of God's vision, because we have our origin in time and are confined by our human condition, we have necessarily limited horizons.  In order for our horizons to be extended, fusions need to occur.

These fusions are always interpersonal and most usually occur in the form of interactions between human beings, whether through conversation with others or through reading what others have written.  There is also a special type of fusion of horizons, i.e. the fusion of horizons between human beings and God.  Our interaction with divine revelation through reading the Scripture and through prayer enables us to experience a fusion of our horizons with the horizon of God.  The most radical fusion between a human being and God took place in the person of Jesus Christ.  The theological term for this fusion is the hypostatic union.  God's revelation of himself in Jesus is divine revelation par excellence. The fusion of our horizons with God's enables us to become children of God (John 1:12) and images of the Incarnate Word.

I am interested in the fusion of theological horizons.  My understanding of horizons, however, is broader than Gadamer's since he understood horizons as the limitations imposed on one's subjective experiences and knowledge by the present whereas in addition to making use of this meaning, I also apply the term "horizon" to intellectual systems of thought insofar as they have definite boundaries (by "definite" I do not mean "set in stone") which are capable of impacting boundaries of other systems.  For example, Catholic theology and modern cosmology have definite boundaries and, although they are two autonomous branches of thought, discoveries and developments in one of them can have an impact on the other.  The Big Bang theory, which suggests that our universe had a first moment (i.e. it was created), demonstrates this point.

Here are some of the fusions I am interested in exploring in this blog:

• Catholic theology and modern science
• The horizon of the reader and the horizons of the authors of Scripture
• Resourcement and postmodernism
• Inter-ecclesial fusions (ecumenism)
• Intra-ecclesial fusions
• The horizon of the believer and the horizon of the unbeliever (evangelization)

This list is by no means exhaustive; I merely intend to give a sampling of some of the theological fusions that capture my imagination.

I describe my blog as "Verbal Effusions on the Synthesis of Divine and Human Subjects."  This description contains a double meaning.  By subjects, I mean both academic subjects and personal subjects.  In other words, I envision my blog as my theological reflections on the relationship between theology and human sciences as well as God and human beings.  I look forward to blogging about theology, a subject that is deeply important to me.

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1. Hans-Georg Gadamer, Truth and Method, trans. Joel Weinsheimer and Donald G. Marshall, 2^nd ed. (New York: Continuum, 2004), 305; Emphasis Gadamer's.^↩

2. Ibid., 306.^↩