Embracing The Ivory Tower and Stained Glass Windows: Jennifer Baldwin Editor

Issues in Science and Religion: Publications of the European
Society for the Study of Science and Theology
Jennifer Baldwin Editor
Embracing
the Ivory Tower
and Stained Glass
Windows
A Festschrift in Honor of Archbishop
Antje Jackelén
Issues in Science and Religion: Publications
of the European Society for the Study
of Science and Theology
Volume 2
Series editor
Michael Fuller, University of Edinburgh, Edinburgh, United Kingdom
More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/13495
Jennifer Baldwin
Editor
Embracing the Ivory Tower

and Stained Glass Windows
A Festschrift in Honor of
Archbishop Antje Jackelén
Editor
Jennifer Baldwin
Grounding Flight Wellness Center
Chicago, IL, USA
Elmhurst College
Elmhurst, IL, USA
ISSN 2364-5717 ISSN 2364-5725 (electronic)

Issues in Science and Religion: Publications of the European Society for the Study of
Science and Theology
ISBN 978-3-319-23942-2 ISBN 978-3-319-23944-6 (eBook)
DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-23944-6
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Dedicated to
Archbishop Antje Jackelén—
for her wisdom, gracious leadership,
and empowering and encouraging
mentorship
Preface
Embracing the Ivory Tower and Stained Glass Windows: A Festschrift in Honor of
Archbishop Antje Jackelén is a celebration of the important academic work of
Jackelén. This volume is intended to highlight and honor the theological writings of
Jackelén and offer further paths of theological reflection and discovery. While her
faculty appointments and society leadership are at least on hiatus if not concluded
for ecclesial responsibilities, Jackelén continues to produce important theological
reflection for the leadership of the church in an increasingly global society. While
this volume celebrates and focuses on the academic reflection and production of
Jackelén, the fullness of her importance cannot be limited to her academic writings.
Her ecclesiastical work both prior to the conferral of her doctoral degree as a parish
priest and after during her tenure as bishop of Lund and as the first female arch-
bishop of the Church of Sweden are monumental bookends that provide both sup-
port and meaning to her academic literature. It is through her ecclesiastical leadership
and writings that her academic work is most fully vivified and vibrant.
The title of this volume is intended to highlight the key arenas of Jackelén’s
vocational journey. The “ivory tower” is a common euphemism for the academy and
can be employed as a pejorative to indicate academic interests that are divested from
the concerns and needs of society. While accusation that the academy is discon-
nected from society can be true, it is certainly not the case in the scholarship of
Jackelén. In fact, the most urgent needs of society, including the AIDS crisis, cli-
mate change, and the impact of technology on society, stand at the forefront of her
writing, lecturing, and teaching. In many ways, Jackelén’s academic work repre-
sents the best of the ivory tower. The image of the “stained glass windows” is
intended to point to her ecclesiastical work. Jackelén, throughout her career, has
shown dedication to the vitality, relevancy, and health of the church. As a parish
priest in Sweden for sixteen years prior to her move into the academy, her preaching
as a seminary professor, and her ecclesial leadership, Jackelén has consistently kept
a caring and attentive touch on the pulse of the rhythms, practices, and needs of the
church. Additionally, within the religion/science dialogue, there is a perennial con-
versation on what images are best as a linking; the choice of “embracing” is to
highlight Antje’s insistence on a relational component that requires the ivory tower
vii
viii Preface
to attend to actual needs and sufferings at the same time that it calls the church to
step out from behind its stained glass windows into the world.
From her doctoral dissertation, through her leadership at the Zygon Center of
Religion and Science and European Society for the Study of Science and Theology,
and her shepherding roles as the bishop of Lund and now archbishop, Jackelén has
consistently demonstrated a dedication to intentional, meaningful, and robust theo-
logical thinking that embraces the traditions and history of the church and theologi-
cal integrity. While diligent and precise thought and communication is reflective of
her internalized commitment to excellence, she is also aware of added external pres-
sure of being a female leader and scholar. In the current century, it would be nice to
believe that the gender of a scholar would not bear on the reception of their work;
however, as Jackelén is keenly cognizant, the sex of a scholar and leader continues
to influence the reception of their work. This is particularly true in fields that are
historically or currently occupied predominantly by men, including church leader-
ship and interdisciplinary scholarship. Jackelén’s awareness of the role her female-
ness plays has allowed her to graciously navigate instances in which she has been
inappropriately criticized (including attacks on her hairstyle and threats to her safety
during the election process and shortly after her election as primate of the Church
of Sweden) and misjudged (including the continued lambasting of her personal faith
and ecclesiastical leadership due to a misinterpretation of her bishop’s motto).
While the particularity of her embodiment as female has been scandalous to
some, her strength, resiliency, integrity, and gracious tenacity have been an empow-
ering encouragement to others. Throughout her academic career, Jackelén was
among the first to blaze the trails that others now tread. She was only the second
woman to earn a Ph.D. from the theology department at Lund University; the first
woman to serve as director of Zygon Center and president of ESSSAT; the third
female bishop in the Church of Sweden, among a small group of women influential
in religion and science discourse; and the first female archbishop. As a trailblazer,
Jackelén has continually kept one hand clearing the brush and the other hand reach-
ing back to support those who follow. Her mentorship of women in the academy and
church, including myself, has been one of her greatest gifts. From female colleagues
and students to adolescent girls (L. Oveido offers “the youngest person attending
Assisi Conference last year was an adolescent girl, the granddaughter of a colleague
and friend from USA; she told us at the end of that meeting that she was deeply
impressed about Antje: “she is really a role-model for me”), Jackelén has been an
active mentor and representational model of how to negotiate the demands of con-
temporary leadership and scholarship.
This celebratory volume is a labor of appreciation, recognition, and honor for the
gifts and talents Jackelén has offered to the scholarly community. It proceeds in four
movements: the first grouping of essays, Expanding Time and Eternity, focuses on
Jackelén’s doctoral dissertation “Time and Eternity” which is currently published in
three languages. These chapters each provide a different melody of reflection estab-
lished on the bass foundation of Jackelén’s inaugural academic monograph.
Throughout Jackelén’s academic and ecclesiastical work, she has always kept a dili-
gent eye on the implications and utility of theological reflection and articulation on
Preface ix
society. The second movement of essays honors this commitment to the role of
religious thought and practice as critical supports for the good of community and
society. The third section highlights creative intersections in theology and science
that open creative spaces for renewed engagement. These essays honor the interdis-
ciplinary work that has largely, though not exclusively, marked Antje Jackelén’s
career thus far. In her interdisciplinary work, she explored creative tropes for
increasing the relationality among disciplinary communities and between the church
and society. The final movement builds on increasingly more complex forms of
community in particular contexts, time, and place. Antje has and continues to play
a formative role in a variety of personal, local, national, and international
communities.
As daughter, friend, scholar, wife, priest, mother, professor, advisor, colleague,
director, bishop, grandmother, and archbishop, Antje Jackelén has positively influ-
enced individuals, communities, disciplines, organizations, and the church, local,
national, and global. Each of the contributors to this volume has been influenced,
collegially or personally, by Antje Jackelén and honors her contribution to their
thought, the academy, or the church through their essay. This volume is intended to
honor the work of Antje in the academy and celebrate the first anniversary of her
historic instillation as archbishop of the Church of Sweden.
Contributors to the first section each reflect on and emerge from Jackelen’s text
Time and Eternity. Ted Peters authors the first essay in the grouping and picks up the
theological loci of eschatology and delves into the proleptic ontology of the escha-
tology. He argues for the importance of retaining connection between the future as
the pull and hermeneutical frame of the present and past and highlights the impor-
tance of Trinitarian reflection for illuminating time and the expansive openness of
eternity. Vitor Westhelle explores Jackelen’s lament of modernity’s rendering of
time from eternity and the notion of the “god of the gaps” to problematically utilize
faith to fill in unknown dimensions of reality. He then discusses the limits of ratio-
nality and the power of inscription as a means of codifying experiences and protect-
ing against the fearful beauty of the messiness of life. Anne Runehov employs
philosophical inquiry to examine openings for Jackelen’s relational notion of time
by investigating Newtonian, Einsteinian, and quantum theories of time. By employ-
ing scientific and philosophical paradigms of time, Runehov opens up possibilities
for divine human relationality in the midst of divine eternity and historical tempo-
rality. Hubert Meisinger utilizes Jackelen’s understanding of the relationality and
phenomenology of time as a springboard for his inquires into the nature, resonances,
and experience of time. Ulf Gorman’s essay honors the centrality of time in
Jackelen’s Time and Eternity and reflects of the relationships among the past, pres-
ent, and future in ethics.
The second section centers on practical intersections between theological schol-
arship and tensions that exist in society. Sigurd Bergmann represents a link between
the prior section’s focus on time and eschatology and the current section. He argues
for space as a necessary addition to time in eschatological thinking and the impor-
tance of claiming space for those who experience oppression. Additionally, he dis-
cusses the notion of “home” as an addition to theological discourses of time and
x Preface
eschatology. John Nunes explores Jackelen’s reflection on the power of religion in

the midst of secularized society with a particular eye toward notions of diversity in
society and within the Lutheran tradition. Jennifer Baldwin utilizes the loci of
hermeneutics, feminism, and postmodernism explicated by Jackelen in her Goshen
lectures to argue for the inclusion of traumatic experiences in forming empathetic
and resilient caring. Additionally, Baldwin explores somatic wisdom as an addition
and filling out of cognitive knowing. Anne Kull focuses on the global crisis of cli-
mate change. She argues that climate change represents a “super wicked problem”
in that it demands a global response that is repeatedly frustrated by individual state
politics. The concluding essay in this section comes from Michael Fuller. Fuller
examines the ethical and consensual dimensions present in the collection, access,
and analysis of information obtained by “big data.” Big data signifies the very large
databases that exponentially acquire and house personal information. Fuller dis-
cusses the role of the church in critiquing the acquisition and use of big data.
The third group of essays all explore various creative opportunities in the inter-
section of religion/theology and sciences. Carmelo Santos utilizes Jackelen’s con-
cept of eutonia as a frame for productive and healthy dialogue between religion and
cognitive sciences of religion. He explores “beneficial tension” as a means of honor-
ing disciplinary alterity while encouraging interaction. Lluis Oveido utilizes recent
developments in the area of cognitive science of religion to investigate the function
of symbols in human understanding and the evolution of religious symbols as a way
of “overcoming” the disciplinary divide in religion and science dialogue. In the
third essay, Carol Albright traces the role of interaction as a creative generativity
through cosmological and evolutionary development into interpersonal and theo-
logical relationality. She argues that substance or material ontology does not suffi-
ciently attend to the emergent qualities present via interactions. Rather, a creative
interaction ontology provides a more fruitful base for exploring natural, cultural,
and spiritual processes. Finally, Knut-Willy Saether discusses the realm of the aes-
thetic as a meeting ground for natural science and theology. He claims that place
and beauty offer a profound meeting space for science and theology.
The final section explores the ways in which human beings know self, are prod-
ucts of particular contexts, and build increasingly complex communities. Gayle
Woloschak employs the Greek theological tradition in asking “What does it mean to
be a person?” Through this question, she explores the use of language in revealing
the deep connections among human persons and the formation of community and
expression of community and response to suffering. John Albright lifts up the biog-
raphies of two historical figures: one from the theological tradition, Nicholas
Cusansu, and the other from the scientific tradition, Niels Bohr. Through a compari-
son of these two figures, Albright highlights both the contextuality of every scholar
and the interweavings of religious expression and scientific knowledge in each age.
Willem Drees provides an informative history of the formation of the European
Society for the Study of Science and Theology. His account helpfully reveals the
diversity, struggle, strengths, and compassion present in the history of the society.
Additionally, he specifically traces Antje Jackelen’s roles and presence in
ESSSAT. In the concluding essay, Anders Wejyrd, archbishop emeritus, discusses
Preface xi
the history of the Church of Sweden and its role in Swedish society. He sets the
context for Jackelen’s assumption of her role as primate of the church and freedoms
and responsibilities that are a feature of this position.
This collection of essays represents the theological importance, validity, and
vitality of Archbishop Antje Jackelen’s scholarship. Additionally, it is indicative of
the profound range of her influence and empowering mentorship. Please join this
academic cloud of witnesses to Jackelen’s impact in celebrating her embracing of
the best of the academy and the church!
Elmhurst, IL, USA Jennifer Baldwin

Contents
Part I Expanding Time and Eternity

1 Time in Eternity and Eternity in Time.................................................. 3
Ted Peters
2 Revisiting the God of the Gaps: On the Tempestuous
Experience of Overwhelming Presence ................................................. 13
Vítor Westhelle
3 How to Understand Time in Relation to Timeless Divine
Action in a Time-Dependent World ....................................................... 27
Anne L.C. Runehov
4 Time as “Dance”: Theological-Philosophical Reflections
and Meditations....................................................................................... 45
Hubert Meisinger
5 Time – A Dimension of Ethics ................................................................ 59
Ulf Görman
Part II Exploring the Messy Middle

6 Places of Encounter with the Eschata: Accelerating
the Spatial Turn in Eschatology ............................................................. 71
Sigurd Bergmann
7 A Poetical Proposal: Diversity in Lutheran Traditions ....................... 81
John Nunes
8 From Traumatic Disruption to Resilient Creativity:
How Hermeneutics, Feminism, and Postmodernism Provide
Grounds for the Development of a Trauma Sensitive Theology ......... 93
Jennifer Baldwin
xiii
xiv Contents
9 Biocultural Wholes, Partial Perspectives, Path Dependency

and the Global Climate Change: What’s Theology Got
to Do with It? ........................................................................................... 109
Anne Kull
10 Some Practical and Ethical Challenges Posed by Big Data ................ 119
Michael Fuller
Part III Engaging Intersections

11 Eutonia: The Cross (In)Between Science and Theology ...................... 131
Carmelo Santos
12 The Study of Symbols as a Bridge Between Science
and Theology ........................................................................................... 147
Lluis Oviedo
13 An Ontology of Creative Interaction ..................................................... 165
Carol Rausch Albright
14 Science and Religion Being Moved by Aesthetics ................................ 175
Knut-Willy Sæther
Part IV Experiencing Ecclesia

15 Becoming Human: Weaving Together Genetics
and Personhood Reflections on Personhood ......................................... 191
Gayle E. Woloschak
16 Coincidence of Opposites in the Thought of Nicolas
Cusanus and Niels Bohr ......................................................................... 201
John R. Albright
17 The Early History of the European Conferences on Science
and Religion and of ESSSAT.................................................................. 211
Willem B. Drees
18 What Liberates and Limits a Bishop and an Archbishop
in Church of Sweden? ............................................................................. 231
Anders Wejryd
Index ................................................................................................................. 241

Contributors
Carol Rausch Albright Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, Chicago, IL,

USA
John R. Albright Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, Chicago, IL, USA
Jennifer Baldwin Grounding Flight Wellness Center, Chicago, IL, USA
Elmhurst College, Elmhurst, IL, USA
Sigurd Bergmann Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies, Norwegian
University of Science and Technology, Trondheim, Norway
Willem B. Drees Tilburg Center for Logics, Ethics and Philosophy of Science
(TILPS), Tilburg University, Tilburg, The Netherlands
Michael Fuller Department of Divinity, New College, University of Edinburgh,
Edinburgh, UK
Ulf Görman Centre for Theology and Religious Studies, Lund University, Lund,
Sweden
Religious Studies, Jönköping University, Jönköping, Sweden
Anne Kull Faculty of Theology, University of Tartu, Tartu, Estonia
Hubert Meisinger Zentrum Gesellschaftliche Verantwortung, Mainz, Germany
John Nunes Theology, English, International Studies, Valparaiso University,
Valparaiso, IN, USA
Christ College, Valparaiso University, Valparaiso, IN, USA
Lluis Oviedo Theology Department, Antonianum University, Rome, Italy
Ted Peters Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary and Graduate Theological
Union, Berkeley, CA, USA
xv
xvi Contributors
Anne L.C. Runehov Uppsala University, Uppsala, Sweden

Knut-Willy Sæther Department of Religious Studies, Volda University College,
Volda, Norway
Carmelo Santos Theology Department, Georgetown University, Washington, DC,
USA
Anders Wejryd World Council of Churches-President for Europe, Uppsala,
Sweden
Vítor Westhelle Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, Chicago, IL, USA
Gayle E. Woloschak Department of Radiation Oncology, Northwestern School of
Medicine, Chicago, IL, USA
Part I
Expanding Time and Eternity
Chapter 1
Time in Eternity and Eternity in Time
Ted Peters
Abstract In her eschatology, Antje Jackelén labors to repudiate dualism between

time and eternity. Eternity is not merely timelessness, she argues. Rather, eternity
consists of multi-layered time, wherein the present time is influenced by our hope in
God’s promised future. In this Festschrift chapter, I explicate the Jackelén eschato-
logical vision while offering an expanded commentary on its value for the ongoing
creative mutual interaction between science and theology, especially cosmology
and eschatology. More specifically, I show that open trinitarian theism affirms that
the temporal created world is taken up into the divine eternity. Time lodges in eter-
nity, while eternity enters time proleptically. History counts within God’s trinitarian
life. What happens within time has eternal ramifications when eschatology is
thought to point to fulfillment, to consummation, to redemption.
Keywords Retroactive ontology • Eschatology • Prolepsis • Trinity • Antje Jackelén

• Karl Barth • Wolfhart Pannenberg • Jürgen Moltmann • Robert John Russell
According to theologian and Archbishop Antje Jackelén, we human creatures are

subject to anxiety. We become anxious when we realize that time is passing, that the
present moment is passing into the non-being of the past. “From the human perspec-
tive, temporality as transitoriness is seen as a demon, as destiny, or as an a priori
concept,” she observes (Jackelén 2005). We yearn for duration; but we experience
only transitoriness, ephemerality, forgetfulness. In order to deal with our anxiety,
we imagine a reality which does not change. That unchanging reality we call eter-
nity. We believe that a timeless, changeless, immutable eternity can rescue us from
drowning in the temporal flow.
But, unfortunately, when we turn to the biblical revelation of God, all we get is
more temporality. The God of Israel is a historical God, a God of change, a God of
newness. Whatever eternity means for this God, it will not mean timelessness. There
T. Peters (*)
Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary and Graduate Theological Union,
Berkeley, CA 94709, USA
e-mail: tedfpeters@gmail.com
© Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 3

J. Baldwin (ed.), Embracing the Ivory Tower and Stained Glass Windows,
Issues in Science and Religion: Publications of the European Society
for the Study of Science and Theology 2, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-23944-6_1
4 T. Peters
is no actual duality between time and eternity, argues Jackelén. Our healing and
salvation will not come as an escape from time into eternity; rather, it will come as
a transformatory future.
This places us squarely within the theological locus of eschatology. Eschatology
plays a decisive role in the theological vision projected by Antje Jackelén. Trust in
God’s transforming future impacts our understanding of the present and the past;
and this impact has given rise to Christian hope for the future. Jackelén has provided
an eloquent justification and defense of this hope in the life of the church, in dia-
logue with natural science, and in constructive theology. In this Festschrift chapter,
my plan is to explicate this hopeful vision as I see it; and I plan on drawing on some
of the insights and challenges posed by Jackelén along with likeminded scholars
such as Karl Barth, Wolfhart Pannenberg, Jürgen Moltmann, and Robert John
Russell.
More specifically, I will try to show how an open trinitarian doctrine of God
affirms that the temporal creation is taken up into the divine eternity. Time lodges in
eternity. In addition, eternity enters into time. By entering into time at the incarna-
tion, eternity has established a proleptic reality within the temporal stream that leads
all of creation toward the eternal fountain of life. In sum, eternity does not contrast
with time; rather, eternity incorporates time. History counts within God’s trinitarian
life. What happens within time has eternal ramifications when eschatology is
thought to point to fulfillment, to consummation, to redemption.
What I will add to this vision is an ontology, an ontology hinted at in Jackelén’s
work but anticipating further development. What I will paint into our picture of
God’s promised future is a retroactive ontology, an ontology that begins with the
future and works backward to the present. By retroactive ontology or proleptic
ontology, I allude to Jackelén’s dynamic view of reality as an open historical pro-
cess in which the present and past take their final shape and meaning from the yet-
to-be-determined divine future. “Narrative, dynamics, alterity, openness and
eschatologically qualified relationality—these are the major aspects of a theology of
time,” she writes (Jackelén 2005). Perhaps more forcefully than Jackelén, I will
emphasize that the yet-to-be-determined future already impacts us today as we
anticipate what is to come in concrete or incarnate manifestation–that is, in
prolepsis.
Retroactive Ontology
In 1967 Wolfhart Pannenberg published an article that has been key in my own
constructive work, “Theology of the Kingdom of God.” Pannenberg writes, “Our
starting point then is the Kingdom of God understood as the eschatological future
brought about by God himself” (Pannenberg 1969). Jesus was not a metaphysician;
so Jesus did not spell out the ontological implications of his confidence in the world-
defining import of the imminent kingdom of God, which I frequently designate as
the new creation. But the systematic theologian should spell out the implications of
1 Time in Eternity and Eternity in Time 5
such a commitment; and Pannenberg does so. What this leads to is the startling
proposal that we reverse our common sense understanding of cause and effect, that
instead of viewing the present as determining the future we view the present as an
effect of the future. “We see the present as an effect of the future, in contrast to the
conventional assumption that the past and present are the cause of the future”
(Pannenberg 1969). It is the future, not the present or even the past, that is the source
and power of being. This is the point of departure for my development of retroactive
ontology.
We can find a parallel in the theology of Jürgen Moltmann. “The future is the
necessary condition if time is to be a possibility at all. The future as God’s power in
time must then be understood as the source of time. It then defines the past as past-
future and the present as present-future and future time as future-future. Historical
time is irreversible: the future becomes the past, but the past never again becomes
future....If transcendental future is the source of time, then it does not abolish time
as does timeless-simultaneous eternity, nor does it lose itself in the maelstrom of the
general transience of all temporal being. It rather throws open the time of history,
qualifying historical time as time determined by the future” (Moltmann 1996).
As we proceed, we should note that the idea of retroactive ontology is not bor-
rowed from somebody’s metaphysics. Rather, it derives from the biblical account of
God’s activity in history. It is the product of a philosophical reflection on scripture.
Jackelén rightly points out that “a dualism of time and eternity cannot be discovered
in the Bible. Time and eternity do not encounter each other as an antithesis, but
rather relate to each other in various ways” (Jackelén 2005). If we try to spell out
just how time and eternity “relate to each other,” I will suggest that time is the prod-
uct of the eternal future’s ontological pull of the present moment out of the nonbe-
ing of the past.
The effect of God’s future on the present moment takes two forms, one negative
and one positive. The negative effect is that the present moment becomes released
from the grip of the past, liberated from the causal determinism of past events. By
allowing the present to drop off into the nonbeing of the past and allowing a new
present to come into being and replace it, the new present is freed–freed at least in
part–from the exhaustive determination of past causes. Our capacity each moment
to choose from an array of possibilities is a freedom bequeathed to us by God’s
continuing liberation from the exhaustive determinism of our past. By negating the
power of the past, the power of the future provides each present moment with free-
dom for newness.
The positive effect of God’ future on the present is our orientation, direction, and
future goal. Jackelén is correct in describing temporality in terms of narrative; and
the narrative of time anticipates a conclusion, an end, a finish. The eschatological
consummation God has promised wraps up the entire history of creation into a sin-
gle story, a story with a meaning determined by its final chapter. The meaning of the
present moment will be determined by the future, by God’s final future. For you and
I to ascertain the meaning of the present moment we must interpret it within the
context of a vision of God’s future, in anticipation of God’s promised new creation.
Not only the meaning but even the being of the present along with the past will be
6 T. Peters
determined retroactively by the telos of time, by the eschatological completion of

God’ creation and the establishment of eternal life.
The biblical assumptions and assertions regarding time exhibit two essential fea-
tures, according to Jackelén. “First, there is the multilayered presence of time within
the context of a simultaneous absence of an anthithesis between time and eternity.
Second, there is the primacy of the fullness of time in terms of its content over and
against the formal designation of time” (Jackelén 2005: 61). Decisive here for the
position I am developing is the “primacy of the fullness of time.” The fullness of
time–God’s future eternity–exerts a retroactive effect on the present, on the whole
of temporal history. “Eschatological hope for the future always also confers retroac-
tive historical community” (Moltmann 1985).
This eternal future of God does not stand dualistically over against temporal
change; rather, it envelopes, fulfills, and consummates all that will have been.
Pannenberg writes, “God is eternal because he has no future outside himself. His
future is that of himself and of all that is distinct from him. But to have no future
outside oneself, to be one’s own future, is perfect freedom. The eternal God is the
absolute future, in the fellowship of Father, Son, and Spirit, is the free origin of
himself and his creatures” (Pannenberg 1991).1 This is a distinctively trinitarian
approach, which I endorse.
Jackelén, in contrast, is much less enthusiastic than I am to fold the interaction
between eternity and time into the trinitarian perichoresis.2 “A theology of time can-
not be based on a Trinitarian theology without running into problems” (Jackelén
2005). Yet, with an allusion to Jürgen Moltmann, Jackelén can still present “the
Trinitarian history of God as the perichoretic interlocking of all ages” (Jackelén
2005).
Trinity, Time, and Eternity
When it comes to the doctrine of the Trinity, Jackelén’s boat sails in the same waters
as the ressourcement conversation begun by the two Karls, Karl Barth and Karl
Rahner. The retrieval and renewal of this rich trinitarian theology has continued in
the constructive theology of Wolfhart Pannenberg, Eberhard Jüngel, Jürgen
Moltmann, Catherine Mowry LaCugna, Robert Jenson, and our work in Berkeley at
1
Wolfhart Pannenberg, Systematic Theology, tr. by Geoffrey W. Bromily, 3 Volumes (Grand Rapids
MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1991–1998) 1:410; hereinafter abbreviated, ST.
2
Jackelén is critical of my own trinitarian approach to eschatology. “Peters’ Trinity instead resem-
bles a duality that is held together by the Spirit as a connecting link, a difficulty that Peters shares
with all approaches that allocate to the Spirit the role of the unifier within the Trinity.” Jackelén,
Time and Eternity, 197. I would like to respond with two comments. First, I do not believe I hold
to the dualism between time and eternity she describes. Rather, I see my position as close to the
one which Jackelén herself holds. Second, I admit that I follow Augustine along with Athanasius
and Pannenberg on the Trinity: the Father and Son mutually differentiate and define each other as
divine, while the Holy Spirit constitutes the love that binds them.
the Center for Theology and the Natural sciences, including Robert John Russell
and Ernest Simmons.3 Two points distinguish this flow of thought. First, the
Christian theologian is not a card carrying member of the club of monotheists that
might include Jews and Muslims or others affirming a single transcendent deity.
Christians believe in one God, to be sure; but as revealed in Jesus Christ this one
God has a trinitarian life. Trinitarians compose a club with one member, the
Christian Church.
Second, the new trinitarians affirm to greater or lesser degrees of commitment
what I call Rahner’s Rule. According to Rahner’s Rule, the immanent Trinity is the
economic Trinity and the economic Trinity is the immanent Trinity.4 “There is wide
agreement in Catholic and Protestant theology with Rahner’s principle,” writes
LaCugna; “the economic Trinity is the immanent Trinity, and vice versa” (LaCugna
1991). Here is Pannenberg’s version of the rule: “The immanent Trinity is identical
with the economic Trinity. In virtue of trinitarian differentiation God’s eternity
includes the time of creatures in its full range, from the beginning of creation to its
eschatological consummation” (Pannenberg 1991). Note how God’s eternity
“includes the time of creatures.” In short, the three persons of the Trinity relate to
one another through the creation, not apart from the creation.
The single most important implication of Rahner’s Rule is that any hiatus
between a set of internal trinitarian relations, on the one hand, and a set of external
relations involving creation and redemption of the temporal world, on the other
hand, is overcome.5 The internal relations experienced by Father, Son, and Spirit are
activities that take place in and through world history. For example, the obedience
to the Father on the part of Jesus when suffering on the cross does not mimic the
Son-Father relation that exists elsewhere in eternity. Rather, this historical event of
obedience is in fact the eternal relationship taking place within time.
What does all this mean? The trinitarian perichoresis incorporates the history of
creation into God’s internal life. God’s eternity incorporates our temporality. This is
not panentheism; rather, it is trinitarian theism. New Testament giant, N.T. Wright,
3
For a detailed tracking of this Trinity Talk rising out of CTNS in Berkeley, California, see: Ted
Peters, God as Trinity (Louisville KY: Westminster John Knox, 1993) and the important work by
Robert John Russell, Time in Eternity: Pannenberg, Physics, and Eschatology in Creative Mutual
Interaction (Notre Dame IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2013). Perhaps the newest voice in
Trinity Talk is the work of Ernest L. Simmons, The Entangled Trinity: Quantum Physics and
Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2013).
4
Karl Rahner, The Trinity (New York: Herder and Herder, 1970) 21–22. Both Roger E. Olson and
I employ this term, Rahner’s Rule, to describe the position taken by Rahner and subsequently
adopted by other members of this school of thought. My introduction of the term began in the
“Trinity Talk” series for Dialog 26:1 (Winter 1987) 44-48, and 26:2 (Spring 1987) 133–138.
5
Rahner’s Rule does not require a total collapse of immanent and economic Trinity; but it does
require continuity in revelation and divine action. “Even though we must finally distinguish
between the immanent Trinity and the economic Trinity,” writes Pannenberg, “because God in his
essence is the same as he is in his revelation, and is to be viewed as no less distinct from his revela-
tion than identical with it, nevertheless, the unity of the trinitarian God cannot be seen in detach-
ment from his revelation and his related work in the world in the economy of salvation.” ST, 1:32;
see: 1:62–64; 325.
8 T. Peters
says what many of us might want to say: “It is precisely the emerging threefold
understanding of Israel’s God that prevents a move towards the high-and-dry ‘god’
of Deism on the one hand, and the low-and-wet ‘god’ of pantheism on the other,
together with their respective half-cousins, the ‘interventionist god’ of dualist super-
naturalism, and the ‘panentheist’ deity of much contemporary speculation” (Wright
2003).
Eternity as the Gift of Duration
What is eternity? It is commonly thought that eternity is timelessness. Perhaps

Friedrich Schleiermacher provides an example of the common view: “By the
Eternity of God we understand the absolutely timeless causality of God, which con-
ditions not only all that is temporal, but time itself as well” (Schleiermacher 1928).
Never willing to pass up an opportunity to disagree with Schleiermacher, Barth
counters that “Eternity is not timeless. It is the simultaneity and coinherence of past,
present and future” (Barth 1936–1962). Or, we might think of eternity in terms of
duration rather than either endless time or timeless eternity. “Eternity has and is the
duration which is lacking to time. It has and is simultaneity” (Barth 1936–1962).
Our classic ancestors, who gave considerable thought to the idea of eternity,
found themselves untangling a spaghetti plate of intertwined implications and
entailments. According to Boethius, eternity is the all-at-once total and perfect pos-
session of endless life; or eternity is the complete and perfect possession of intermi-
nable life (interminabilis vitae tota simul et perfecta possessio). Again, Boethius,
“It is necessary that eternity have present the infinity of mobile time” (necesse est…
[aeternum] infinitatem mobilis temporis habere praesentem) (Boethius 2004) There
is no timelessness here.
Still, eternity is a quality we do not thoroughly grasp within creaturely time.
Even if the created world would be everlasting both backward and forward in time,
the world would not be eternal in the sense that God is eternal. God’s eternity means
more than simply that God has always existed and will always exist. What is key
here is that God is present at once to all times, even though from our creaturely point
of view any given moment would be either past or future. God’s eternity transcends
while uniting the flow of becoming or passing away.
Here is one implication: eternity is not just another form of time. Nor is eternity
an attribute of God. Eternity isGod. “Eternity is nothing other than God himself”
(aeternitas non est aliud quam ipse deus), writes Thomas Aquinas.6 “Eternity…is
the living God Himself. It is not only a quality which He possesses” adds Barth
(1936–1962).
Having said this at the abstract level of theological construction, let us return to
the existential threat posed to human self-awareness by transitoriness. The existential
threat that time poses to human consciousness comes from passing. It comes from
6
Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, 1A. 10a. 2 ad 3.
the ineluctable fact that time passes, that the present moment will drop into the non-
being of the past. We creatures are transitory, ephemeral. Nothing endures. What we
yearn for is duration. “Human time is above all transitory time. People of past cen-
turies often longed for the constancy of eternity, whereas contemporaries are
plagued by a lack of time,” Jackelén observes (2005: 56).
When we understand eternity in terms of fulfillment, we understand God as pro-
viding a duration which we creatures cannot produce on our own. God’s eternity “is
duration without separation between beginning, succession and end…[because]
God Himself is the beginning, succession and end,” writes Barth (1936–1962).
“Time is not excluded from His [God’s] duration but included in it” (1936–1962).
It is this quality of duration which Robert John Russell develops. “Eternity is
neither timelessness: the conflation of all moments of time into a single timeless
now in which all temporal thickness is lost. Nor is eternity endless ordinary time: a
continuing succession of separate temporal moments, each of which exists only for
an instant in the present and then is gone forever. Instead, the divine eternity is one
of duration, but a duration that includes co-presence: it is a differentiated unity that
holds together all present events in the history of the universe both now and in the
eschatologicalNew Creation as proleptically anticipated in the present age” (Russell
2013). If we think of eternal life as the gift of God’s saving work in Jesus Christ, this
implies that salvation includes both fulfillment of what was begun in time and a
durative preservation of what eternity heals.
However, Jackelén would not be happy with this appeal to duration to relieve
human anxiety. The divine eternity does not consist of duration, she contends while
drawing on the work of Ingolf Dalferth. Rather, “God’s eternity is temporal, not in
the sense of infinite duration, but rather in the sense of multi-temporality” (Jackelén
2005). God is co-present in each temporal frame of reference, so to speak. More
importantly, she contends that “the ontological difference between eternity and time
should be interpreted in light of the eschatological difference between old and new
times, and not vice versa” (Jackelén 2005).
Eschatology, Cosmology, and the Tension between Theology

and Science
Can the theologian ask the natural scientist to prove the truth of this Christian claim?
Not according to Pannenberg. “The distinctive claim of Christian faith that the
world will have an end cannot find support in our scientific knowledge of the world
even though it does not have to be in opposition to it” (Pannenberg 1991). If we
avoid asking the scientist to prove the Christian claim, we might ask a more modest
question: is the Christian promise of eschatological fulfillment consonant or disso-
nant with the projections of the future offered by scientific cosmologists?
Jackelén would vote for dissonance. “In the face of the immensity of the uni-
verse, is eschatology not simply an anthropological particularism that has grown
10 T. Peters
immeasurably? From a cosmological perspective, much in eschatology appears to

be an absurd exaggeration of the significance of this earth....how unnatural, indeed,
and even how presumptuous, the postulate of a valid eschatology can seem from the
cosmological perspective” (Jackelén 2005: 204). Jackelén’s objection to Christian
eschatology seems here to be based on her anti-geocentrism–that is, our vision of
the future needs to avoid the trap of interpreting the nearly unfathomable cosmos in
terms of terrestrial history. Science is cosmic in scope, whereas Christian eschatol-
ogy seems geocentrically parochial, is her argument.
Although Russell is less concerned about geocentrism, he would agree: physical
cosmology and Christian eschatology are dissonant. When we ask the scientific
cosmologist to tell us about the future of the universe, we hear that it will either
freeze or fry. If cosmic expansion is open, the universe will simply expand and
expand until it enters a state of full entropy wherein all heat will have dissipated. If
cosmic expansion is closed, the universe will collapse back in on itself and heat up
once again. “The far, far future is, apparently, either ‘freeze’ (open universe expand-
ing and cooling forever) or ‘fry’ (closed universe recollapsing to a final black hole
of infinite temperatures)” (Russell 2008). In neither scientific scenario do we see
projected anything looking like the biblical promise of a new creation.
This dissonance with science requires the theologian to rely upon a non-scientific
resource, on special revelation. It requires trust in the promise God made when rais-
ing the crucified Jesus from the dead on the first Easter. This is the divine promise
that, as Jesus rose from the dead, so also will you and I rise from the dead into the
eschatological new creation. “Eschatology entails a transfiguration of the entire cos-
mos based on the bodily resurrection of Jesus at Easter such that all of nature is
taken up by God and made into the New Creation” (Russell 2008).
The theologian must rely upon the biblical testimony to Jesus’ Easter resurrec-
tion and God’s promise, not on scientific scenarios. Jesus’ Easter resurrection may
look to us like a miracle, that is, if we think of a miracle as contradicting what is
fixed by nature. Yet, there is another way to look at it: Jesus’ resurrection is not an
exception to the fixed laws of nature. Rather, it is the first instantiation of a new law
of nature. What happened to Jesus at Easter is not simply a miracle within a world
that will continue to see resurrection as anomalous, as unique, as miraculous. “I
usually refer to it as ‘more than a miracle’, writes Russell; “since his resurrection
seems to involve the transformation of nature as a whole rather than an intervention
into the processes of nature which leave them otherwise untouched” (Russell 2008).
God as the World’s Future
I was delighted when Antje Jackelén elected to write her doctoral dissertation on the
relationship between time and eternity, because this provided the two of us with an
opportunity to converse on an important topic of shared interest. I could only
applaud when her book, Time and Eternity, was published in three languages. This
is a marvelous achievement.
As I write this chapter for the JackelénFestschrift, my own attempt to provide a

comprehensive systematic theology is about to be published in its 3rd edition: God:
The World’s Future.7 Its ontological structure is retroactive and proleptic. I begin
with the assertion: God is the world’s future. When consummated and transformed,
the creation will become what it was meant to be. The power of the world’s being is
retroactive, beginning with the ultimate future and stretching back through our pres-
ent to our past, even back to our point of origin. Only in the new creation will God’s
work as the world’s creator be finished. Today, you and I gain our definition through
our anticipation of God’s eschatological future. Prolepsis is the anticipatory bridge
between future and present.
Like Jackelén, I wish to avoid a dualism between time and eternity; yet, I feel
obligated to show just how time as we experience it is the effect of God’s eternal
future. We must go to the future before we can establish what was genuinely real
today or yesterday. Creation is not done yet. The future can alter the past through
redefinition. Our faith takes us initially to the ultimate future of all things—to the
consummate fulfillment of all things promised by our faithful God—and then works
backward to the proleptic reality of its anticipation in Jesus. On the basis of our
belief in what God has promised we can think of Jesus’ life in terms of divine
incarnation.
Here is an important anthropological implication: to grasp the meaning of your
or my life we must proleptically anticipate the meaning of the totality of events, the
whole of reality. Because your and my daily existence on this tiny planet orbiting
the sun within the Milky Way is our immediate context, we cannot know for certain
the meaning of our existence unless we consider our context within the cosmos as a
whole. Because reality is fundamentally temporal and historical, the meaning of
your and my life will become fully known only at the advent of the new creation,
only retroactively from God’s ultimate future. It will be the whole–the context of all
contexts–that will determine the meaning of the parts, including the duration of
your and my life on planet Earth.
Hence the imago Dei is essentially future. But it has a retroactive and proleptic
quality as well. Our created humanity is our eschatological humanity. Who we are
is determined by who we will be. To think of ourselves as created in the image of
God is to think backward from the fulfillment to the present, from the final creation
to the present process of creating. To the extent that the imago Dei is present now, it
is present proleptically—that is, it is an anticipation of a reality yet to be fully real-
ized. It is present as spirit, as the Holy Spirit—and therefore stands in some tension
with present reality. The imago Dei is the divine call forward, a call we hear now
and respond to now but a call that is drawing us toward transformation into a future
reality.
God is the world’s future. God’s future retroactively determines the meaning and
even the being of your and my life in our present context. The whole determines the
parts. The future determines the present. We live in faith, in proleptic expectation of
7
Ted Peters, God–The World’s Future (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 3rd ed., 2015).
12 T. Peters
this final future. This future expectation is the uniting thread that ties every
dimension of human hope together, just as Jackelén reports.
References
Aquinas, Thomas. 1947. Summa theologiae. Christian Classics Ethereal Library. http://www.ccel.
org/ccel/aquinas/summa.toc.html
Barth, Karl. 1936–1962. Church dogmatics, 4 vols. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark.
Boethius. 2004. Consolation of philosophy. Project Gutenberg eBook, http://www.gutenberg.org/
files/14328/14328-h/14328-h.htm
Jackelén, Antje. 2005. Time and eternity: The question of time in church, science, and theology.
Philadelphia/London: Templeton Foundation Press.
LaCugna, Catherine Mowry. 1991. God for us: The Trinity and Christian life. New York: Harper.
Moltmann, Jürgen. 1985. God in creation: The Gifford lectures 1984–1985. San Francisco: Harper.
Moltmann, Jürgen. 1996. The coming of God: Christian eschatology. Minneapolis: Fortress.
Pannenberg, Wolfhart. 1969. Theology and the kingdom of God, ed. Richard John Neuhaus,
Louisville: Westminster John Knox.
Pannenberg, Wolfhart. 1991. Systematic Theology, 3 vols. Trans. Geoffrey W. Bromily. Grand
Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans.
Peters, Ted. 1993. God as trinity. Louisville: Westminster John Knox.
Peters, Ted. 2015. God–The world’s future. Minneapolis: Fortress Press.
Rahner, Karl. 1970. The trinity. New York: Herder and Herder.
Russell, Robert John. 2008. Cosmology from alpha to omega. Minneapolis: Fortress Press.
Russell, Robert John. 2013. Time in eternity: Pannenberg, physics, and eschatology in creative
mutual interaction. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press.
Schleiermacher, Friedrich. 1928. The Christian Faith. Trans. H.R. Mackintosh and J.S. Stewart.
Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark.
Simmons, Ernest L. 2013. The entangled trinity: Quantum physics and theology. Minneapolis:
Fortress.
Wright, N.T. 2003. The resurrection of the son of God, Christian origins and the question of god,
vol. III. Minneapolis: Fortress Press.
Ted Peters is Emeritus Professor of Systematic Theology and Ethics at Pacific Lutheran
Theological Seminary and the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, California, USA. Along
with Robert John Russell, he co-edits the journal, Theology and Science, published at the Center
for Theology and the Natural Sciences (CTNS). For 4 years he directed the Science and Religion
Course Program at CTNS, where Peters and Jackelén worked together with others to stimulate
interdisciplinary teaching in universities around the world. He is author of God–The World’s
Future (Fortress, 3rd ed, 2015) and Anticipating Omega (Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht 2008). He
co-edited The Evolution of Evil (Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht 2008).
Chapter 2
Revisiting the God of the Gaps:
On the Tempestuous Experience
of Overwhelming Presence
Vítor Westhelle
If it can be reasonably assumed that Newton did not intend a

development toward a “God of the gaps,” would the result have
been different if he had included Christology? What …would
the Incarnation mean for absolute space and absolute time?
Antje Jackelén
Abstract Rudolf Otto, commenting on the famous thesis of Johannes Weiss and
Albert Schweitzer that the message of Jesus, according to the NT, was fundamen-
tally eschatological, calls attention to an apparent contradiction, namely, that a radi-
cal eschatology with apocalyptic effects as attributed to Jesus is ill-disposed to what
Schweitzer also found in Jesus, a “marvelous ethic.” The problem is how the immi-
nent breaking in of eternity may be reconciled with strict responsibility toward
things that endure in time. This is the problem that Antje Jackelén addresses in her
work, particularly in Time & Eternity. Her proposal to bring back the partnership of
time and eternity that modernity has split asunder suggests a revisiting of the infa-
mous and vilified argument for the “god of the gap.” The latter is a symptom of
modernity’s diagnosed alienation of eternity from time confining eternity to the
flickering epiphanies in the presumed ever closing fissures in the scientific attempt
to account for the cosmos in a seamless narration. Even as Jackelén dismisses the
disparaged “arguments” for an ever retreating god of the gap, the argument of this
essay is that the derision is in the fact that the more the gap seems to be mended by
science the more the texture of narrated time rips apart, heralding the perennial
return of the sacred salvage. Some of the critiques of modernity in the works of
V. Westhelle (*)
Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, Chicago, IL, USA
e-mail: vwesthel@lstc.edu

14 V. Westhelle
historians, anthropologists, philosophers, and literary critics may show the way out
of the maze and aid the efforts of theologians to reclaim their discourses in the inter-
stices of the received dominant narrative of this age.
Keywords Eschatology • Europic Principle • God of the Gaps • Holy • Jackelén •

Mystery • Non-rational • Otto • Presence • Tremendum
Antje Jackelén is no proponent of a “god of the gap” argument. Yet she acknowl-
edges that the Incarnation dents the ordinary and received view of homogenous time
and space. The presence of the eternal is conceived in her work as part of the experi-
ence of time and space even as it cannot be accounted by the measuring patterns that
these categories offer. Her program resonates with the work of a few others who
want to find in narrated time the incisions of otherness within. In fact the gap-
metaphor inhabited by narrowing gods might be better suited with another meta-
phor: the black hole curving spacetime with a potency defying measurements.
The following argument examines the works of theologians and philosophers of
science who take seriously unaccountable presence, i.e. presence that “normal” sci-
ence and also “normal” theology cannot re-present.
Holy Accidents Within
Rudolf Otto, commenting on the famous thesis of Johannes Weiss and Albert
Schweitzer that the message of Jesus, according to the NT, was fundamentally
eschatological, calls attention to an apparent contradiction, namely, that a “consis-
tent eschatology” (konsequente Eschatologie) with apocalyptic proclivities as
attributed to Jesus is ill-disposed to what Schweitzer also found in Jesus: a “marvel-
ous ethic.” “In doing so he [Schweitzer] seems to me not to notice that when these
two expressions are brought together there would be an inconsistence if one did not
pay regard to the peculiar irrationality which essentially inheres in a genuine escha-
tology” (Otto 1943). But the point of Otto is to show not incongruence in Jesus’s
teaching, but on the idea of a “consistent eschatology” to which ethics would indeed
be extraneous. “For without this irrationality an ethic, just in as far as it is marvel-
ous, and even as an ‘interim-ethic,’ would be inherently inconsistent with teaching
that the end is at hand” (Otto 1943). And so he continues his argument:
This irrational quality is repeated in every place where genuine eschatological feeling
exists. … It is rationalized away if we rob it of one of its antithetic elements by explaining
that the eschatological order does not belong to the sphere of time. Its irrational quality is
obscured when we speak of a consistent eschatology, and yet include a marvelous ethic in
spite of the inner contradiction between the two elements (Otto 1943).
The point of our author, further elaborated in his classic The Idea of the Holy
(1950), is to show that in genuine religious experience eschatology is not a limit ad
2 Revisiting the God of the Gaps: On the Tempestuous Experience of Overwhelming… 15
extra rationis, something beyond the realm of what reason can encompass, but
rather in profundis rationis, in the very depths of reason itself. Otto is struggling
with the Kantian query about the limits or reason and the disjointing of the numenon
and the phenomenon. The problem is how the imminent breaking in of eternity or
the other may be reconciled with strict responsibility toward things that endure in
time. This would entail indeed an inconsistency. Otto is arguing against any attempt
of keeping them in different spheres and thus preserving the purity of reason. Hence
a consistent eschatological reasoning is kept in a different dimension beyond and
outside the proper sphere or reason. Otto’s argument is for an understanding of
eschatology that is not the goal, the telos beyond the limit of a history that can be
rationally accounted for, but simply for an end within it, not a culmination or a sus-
pension to another realm. This is indeed inconsistent. Otto concurs. “It is, of course,
an inconsistency to the natural ratio. But to religious feeling, an inner logic demands
that they should be side by side, and to this feeling the only consistent eschatology
is the one which contains in itself both elements indissolubly connected” (Otto
1943, italics added). Such a bond has been severed. Science and religion became
relatively independent areas of intellectual pursuit that may or may not be related to
each other as departmentalized fields of research, theoretical reflections, and disci-
plined considerations.
Few at Otto’s own time saw as clearly the irreconcilable character of the God-
question, of the numinous, with Kantian rationality, and yet the coexistence of both.
Kantian rationality indeed docked religion to the safe harbor of reason. However
religious experience was given latitude only as wide as phenomena are concerned.
And these were rigorously demarcated by the categorical posts that sustain the robes
of rational procedures. Within that space, and only to its very limits, can religion be
a matter of rational discourse. The same is certainly valid for the sciences, for
morality, or aesthetics. This also means that that which cannot be assessed by the
formal categories, determined as to its quantity, quality, relationship, and form of
manifestation within time and space is excluded. This is not to pass any judgment
on its affects, only to underscore Otto’s point that it is indeed an inconsistency
which cannot be solved by extirpating, or rooting out the eschatological dimension
of religions experience, or at least freeing it from its most disturbing encounter with
the fascinating and yet appallingly shocking (fascinans et tremendum) exposure to
mystery. Otto’s move is not to go beyond the rational, which his use of irrationale
may lead one to think,1 but to signal an overflow of meaning, an over-determination
in the rational structure of meaning itself.
1
This is the term in the original Das Heilige: Über das Irrationale in der Idee des göttlichen und
sein Verhältnis zum Rationalen (München: C. H. Beck, 1936 [1917]). That Otto’s terminological
usage is misleading is well argued by his English translator, John W. Harvey who calls it “an over-
plus of meaning which is non-rational, but neither in the sense of being counter to reason on the
one hand nor above reason on the other. The two elements, the rational and the non-rational, have
to be regarded (in his favorite simile) as the warp and the woof of the complete fabric, neither of
which can dispense with the other. … I have sought to mitigate the unfortunate suggestion of the
key-word ‘irrational’ in the original by rendering it ‘non-rational’.” Otto, The Idea of the Holy,
xvii–xviii.
16 V. Westhelle
With this the question of the eschaton is not one of a goal, or a telos of a history
lined up as rosary beads. Eschaton refers then to end in the sense of an incision or
interruption that does not mark a simple void or discontinuity but an excess, a sur-
plus of meaning that is not a figment of an imagination overwhelmed by the richness
of pure rationality. G.E. Lessing gave modernity the standard explanation for the
emergence of miracles accounts but also then for the eschatological and apocalyptic
fantastic imagery employed in the biblical material, dismissing them from reason.
In justifying why “accidental truths of history can never become the proof of neces-
sary truth of reason,” he adds: “…the truth of these miracles [accidents] has com-
pletely ceased to be demonstrable by miracles still happening now, since they are no
more than reports of miracles (…), I deny that they can and should bind me to the
very least faith in the other teachings of Christ” (Lessing 1956). And then
continues:
What does bind me? Nothing but these teachings themselves. Eighteen hundreds years ago
they were so new, so alien, so foreign to the entire mass of truths recognized in that age, that
nothing less than miracles and fulfilled prophecies were required if the multitude we to
attend to them all (Lessing 1956).
Lessing’s formulation in later years assumed the chanting charm of a mantra:

faith makes the miracle. Otto declined to join the chorus. But he did not simply
revert the formula reinstating the pristine order in which miracle brings about faith
in which miracle would be endowed with a certain density of objective historical
verifiability.2 He remains staunchly committed to the inconsistency, the polluted
admixture of elements that do not blend. He sanitizes neither the numen, moving it
to an exalted loftier higher dimension, nor does he purify the rational.
Theological Allergy
The “god-of-the-gap” argot is a convenient cliché used to dismiss the theistic argu-
ments on the grounds of the incompleteness of any rational system, normally scien-
tific, in accounting for all there is. As long as there are gaps in the rational
comprehension of the universe, so goes the argument, there is a space to be claimed
by the mysterious. The sneered expression that the god-of-the gap argument elicits
aims at showing that the argument stands on an ever rescinding ground as
presumably the sciences progress rectilinearly toward ever advanced levels of
explanatory capabilities closing fissures in the scientific attempt to account for the
cosmos, moving always toward a seamless discourse.
The infamous and vilified argument for the “god of the gap” is a symptom of
modernity’s diagnosed alienation of eternity from time, confining eternity to the
flickering epiphanies in the presumed ever retreating holy. But the ridicule is not
2
Ernst Käsemann’s so-called “New Quest for the Historical Jesus” has a point in his criticism of
the “faith-makes-miracle-argument” sustaining that a “real” historical fact must have been there in
order to produce the effects that gave occasion to a historical chain of events, suggesting that
miracle makes faith thus re-inscribing mystery into the rational.
directed necessarily to the idea of the holy, but to its claim to be counted among the
established consistent rationality of the academia. Certainly the idea the holy is
accepted as long as it remains at the phenomenological level as a dimension of its
own. This is the task of the religious studies or the sciences of religion. There is no
problem among the schools as to the proper character of these disciplines that deal
with the phenomenon of the holy. But any claim regarding the holy in itself (Kant’s
an sich) in the midst of rationality deserves the cliché, which is normally used to
discredit theology insofar as it sustains Otto’s inconsistency.
An anecdote helps to illustrate the point. In 1919, two years after the publication
of Otto’s work we have a letter written to Otto by Husserl conveying a recommenda-
tion for a certain Mr. Oxen. Husserl goes further than a letter and takes the occasion
to mention that he had read, on suggestion of Oxen himself and Heidegger, Otto’s
The Idea of the Holy. He goes at length reviewing and commenting on the quality of
the work as one of the most remarkable books he had read in recent times. However,
he recommends to Otto to work more clearly on the distinction between factum and
eidos. In elaborating on this distinction he does it in telling similarity and parallel-
ism to the one Lessing had made between “facts of history” and “truths of reason.”
And then Husserl suggests that Otto may be mixing the two. At this point he offers
a very revealing rhetorical observation: “It seems to me that the metaphysician
(theologian) in Herr Otto has carried on its wings Otto the phenomenologist; and in
that regard I think of the image of the angels who cover their eyes with their wings”
(Sheehan 1981). Husserl suspects that Otto, the theologian is smuggling into the
realm of the phenomenon the god of the gaps. For Husserl, Otto’s theology pro-
duced allergic reaction compromising the detached phenomenological analysis of
the religious factor.
Such is the problem that Antje Jackelén addresses in her work, particularly in
Time & Eternity. Lamenting the disappearance of the once lively coupling of time
and eternity, modernity exiles the latter for the sake of the homogeneity with the
former. Approaching the problem from the perspective of modern science, the spec-
trum of the “god of the gaps” haunts a theological discourse that accepts a concept
of time that is self-referential, absolute, and obeys only its own immanent laws to
which even a hypothetical god would be subservient (Jackelén 2005). Her proposal
to bring back the partnership of time and eternity that modernity has split asunder
suggests a revisiting of an “event” that cannot be inferred immanently from the
physical laws. Here, Jackelén the theologian, appeals to the Trinity, and particularly
to the Incarnation as the event that introduces alterity to a concept of time that
has been deprived from the narrative structure in which it used to be embedded
(Jackelén 2005).
Jackelén dismisses the disparaged “arguments” for a god of the gap (2005). But
the interesting fact is that she does it insofar as they draw the oxygen for their exis-
tence from the rarified atmosphere of a lifeless concept of time full of an empty
future in which nothing new, no novum, no advent disturbs the inexorable tick-tack
of almighty chronos. This god of the gap subsists as long as failures in the mechanism
can be found. The god of the gap is the monkey on the back of a deus ex machina,
soon to be shaken off. Then the texture of the time space continuum will be seamless.
18 V. Westhelle
However, in calling for narrated time in which “future and advent” are reconciled
(2005), Jackelén looks for “failures” in the texture suggesting that the more the gap
is presumably mended by science the more narrated time rips the texture apart,
entertaining irregularities and discontinuities in the weaving of warps and woofs,
heralding what anthropologists have dubbed the “return of the sacred salvage.” In
her call for a narrative in which there is place “for forgetting time,” she is suggesting
a move analogous to Otto’s, in which mystery co-exists with “our chronometers” in
the same plane with all their incompatibility. In this there is an inconsistency to be
celebrated in a blissful dance “of joy in God,” but which could be equally a
“Nietzschean dance” (2005) over the abyss of the tremendum.
Jackelén’s appeal to Nietzsche3 and his criticism of both religion and science
comes not as a call for a third, a metaphysics that would harmonize the claims of
physics with the beyond (meta), keeping them however in their own realms as dis-
tinct forms of discourse. Rather, the call is to see one in another and accept the
inconsistencies as disturbances in the tranquil realm of uniformities that science
believes to administer. But the call is extended equally to a religion that obtained
refuge in a realm free from rational criticism, a Sturmfreiesgebiet. The repeated
appeal to the dance metaphor (borrowed from Nietzsche [Jackelén 2004]) suggests
with vim and vigor the combination of rigor, discipline, and order, characteristic of
the scientific pursue with grace, spontaneity, art, awe, superfluity, and excess that
religion elicits.
The Experience of Unsettling Presence
In his long poem, called “The Book of Monastic Life,” Rainer Maria Rilke
approaches this irresolution between identity that science aims at and the exposure
to otherness that religion represents. Yet there is no solution that a system can
accommodate. There is only life in the “messy middle of things” (Jackelén 2004,
34). The poem posits not an either-or, but the affirmation of a hybrid coexistence,
without a synthesis, without a “system”! (Jackelén 2004)
Your very first word was: Light:
Thus made was time. Then silent you were
long.
Your second word became flesh
and distress
(darkly we are submerged in his growling)
and again your face is pondering.
Yet your third
I want not (Rilke 1997).4
3
See her treatment of the importance of Nietzsche in Antje Jackelén, The Dialogue between
Religion and Science, Carl S. Helrich, ed. (Kitchner, Ontario: Pandora, 2004), 54–64.
4
“Dein allererstes Word war: Licht:/da ward die Zeit. Dann schwiegst du lange./Dein zweites Wort
ward Mensch und bange/(wir dunkeln noch in seine. Klange)/und wieder sinnt dein Angesicht./Ich
aber will dein drittes nicht.” Reiner Maria Rilke, Die Gedichte (Frankfurt a/M: Insel, 1997), 227.
The word that creates, while science aims at decoding it, the word that communicates,
while humanism celebrates it, entails the premonition of a third that does not come,
that the poet does not want, but it is here in the “messy middle” as precisely the
silence he fears and desires (Ich aber will dein drittes nicht). The third the poet
averts, but has it in the moment he denies it, is the hybrid tertium datur, yet in the
polluted sub contraria specie of the non daretur. It is the word that creates and it is
simultaneously also the living word in the putrefying flesh.
Jackelén’s hermeneutical probing in rendering the human quest for order, even
for order in the knowledge of things divine and the refusal to settle for a “solution”
is a call for allowing mystery-within to burst open the messy dimensions of life.
Theology’s navigation between the Scylla of Alexandrian scientific systems and the
Charybdis of the Antiochean religious studies finds no stable harbor.
However, the point being made by Otto and Jackelén is that the waters are no less
turbulent in the inner strives of the sciences themselves in their quest for stable
images of unstable realities: paradigms change, undecidability, incompleteness,
incoherence, randomness, chaos are words that resonate in halls of science with the
ease of prayers in sanctuaries.
In the search for finding a sort of a compass in the tempestuous experience of
overwhelming presence, criticism itself is aided by the unexpected and not exactly
kosher assistance of literature that comingles with the fantastical and mystical.5 But
this is not a fix for anxiety in face of the unfathomable, but as the embarkation on
exploring other ways, of seeing unexpected reliefs in things rendered flat and homo-
geneous by the practice of scientific inscription. Another gaze is being called upon,
a gaze attentive, and not so deferential to truths settled in the re-presentation of
things; in other words, attentive to presence in its effervescence “seen by the eye
that is granted ‘the pleasure of gaizing into the Dionysian abysses’” (Jackelén 2004)
This other gaze finds in the gap not a territory in the wait for further exploration,
but as a sort of a black hole that astonishes, commands respect, and elicits awe in
face of presence. This presence does not cancel representation, religious or scien-
tific, but knows of a knowledge that representation does not exhaust. In the rabbinic
exegetical tradition meaning is derived through both, black fire and white fire. This
is the case of arriving at the meaning provoked by the “white fire” that exceeds the
text or the black fire and brings it to fruition. It does not cancel the text, but purports
meaning the text itself cannot control. Similar is the relation of the theologian to the
text of science, which paradoxically releases other meanings the more precise and
scientific the inscription is. This is the paradox of the story of science and rationality
in the West and Eurocentric patterns of interpretation.6 Rather than its shrinking, the
story narrates the expansion of a blind spot that grows precisely at the zenith of its
5
Antje Jackelén often appeals to the fictional/mystical work of Paulo Coelho. See e.g. “The
Dynamics of Secularization, Atheism and the So-called Return of Religion and Its Significance for
the Public Understanding of Science and Religion: Some European Perspectives,” in Churrasco:
A Theological Feast in Honor of Vítor Westhelle, Mary Philip, John Arthur Nunes, and Charles
M. Collier (Euguene, OR: Pickwick, 2013), 17–28.
6
See Antje Jackelén, “Dynamics of Secularization,” 24f.
20 V. Westhelle
conceptual power. The proposed hypothesis of the “anthropic principle” (as proposed
by theoretical physicists) offers itself as a parable. In analogy to the anthropic
principle we could name this way of picturing the world that excludes the holy from
its texture, the “Europic principle.” (Westhelle 1995) It could be defined as follows:
what the Europeans/Westerns/scientists see and register is restricted to the condi-
tions necessary for their presence as observers and inscribers.
The Europic Principle
From the sixteenth through the eighteenth centuries the constitutive procedures that
constitute the foundation upon which modern science will establish its representa-
tional practice were laid out: classification or taxonomy, genetic ordering, and
mathematical reduction.7 What cannot be classified, genetically ordered, and even-
tually placed in a calculable matrix falls outside the picture, in the strict sense of the
term. And the reverse is also true: whatever is must fit into an accepted pattern, in
which it is ordered, classified, and measured. The point is the picture, or in other
words, what counts is the picture. And, further, in what counts, the limits of what is
seen are projected by the European or Western eye in terms of its own experience.
Whatever is not recognized in this experience will not be part of the picture.8 The
most important feature of this picturing of the world is neither the eye that sees nor
the object seen, but what is named, inscribed, registered, listed, diagrammed, and
drawn for another’s sight. But what is given for another’s sight comes with the
frame given by the one who draws the picture. What is passed on is not so much the
picture but the frame. What is left outside—the undefined—is the obscure, the irra-
tional, the occult. But isn’t this what everyone does? Yes, but what is of interest is to
know what has made this Western scientific practice the hegemonic one throughout
the world.
How this came about is by a process of reduction and contraction of knowledge,
while we live under assumption that science and technology have been ever
expanded and advanced. Michel Foucault has observed and described the phenom-
enon remarking that
Observation, from the seventeenth century onward, is a perceptible knowledge furnished
with a series of systematically negative conditions. Hearsay is excluded, that goes without
saying; but so are taste and smell, because their lack of certainty and their variability render
impossible any analysis into distinct elements that could be universally acceptable.
7
See M. Foucault, The Order of Things: An Archaeology of Human Sciences (New York: Vintage
Books, 1973), pp. 71–76. These processes that Foucault calls taxinomia, genetic analysis, and
mathesis are not new. We have known the importance of classification since Aristotle. Genetic
ordering we have since the Ionian philosophers. And Pythagoras had already established mathe-
matics as the foundation of reality. What is new is that they are now systematically combined. See
A. N. Whitehead, Science and the Modern World (New York: Mentor Books, 1948), pp. 33–37.
8
See Foucault, The Order of Things, XV use of a short story of Jorge Luis Borges.
The sense of touch is very narrowly limited to the designation of a few fairly evident
distinctions (such as that between smooth and rough); which leaves sight with an almost
exclusive privilege, being the sense by which we perceive extent and establish proof
(Foucault 1973).
From Hobbes’ affirmation that veritas non in re, sed in dicto consistit9 (“truth is
not in the thing, but in what is written down”) to Max Planck’s saying “that is real
which can be measured,”10 the uniqueness of inscription as representation is sus-
tained. The universality of science depends on the stable standards for measurement
which grant to representation its mobility. With this, observes Bruno Latour, “‘ratio-
nalization’ has very little to do with the reason of bureau- or technocrats, but has a
lot to do with the maintenance of metrological chains” (1990). Metrology, as the
scientific organization of stable measurements and standards, is what makes practi-
cal the universalization of science. And it is so decisively important because it
makes distant foreign spaces and times to “be gathered in one place in a form that
allows all the places and times to be presented at once” (Latour 1990).
A condition for this representation to work is the move precisely away from the
narrative so that cohesion and simultaneity can happen. The problem of the narra-
tive is not that it is fictional but that it is contaminated by orality and evokes sensu-
ous experiences—i.e., it is not purely visual like a chart, a formula, a list, or a
diagram, and therefore does not fulfill the conditions established by the three com-
bined operations that dominate in scientific visualization: classification, genetic
ordering, and calculation (Ong 1982). So the difference is not between fiction and
non-fiction but between having a closer, or a more open horizon of meaning.
Scientific inscription requires the former if it is to achieve universality.
The capability of a system reaching a pretense of universality corresponds to the
symbolic language with which the representational inscription is endowed. Systems
(and modern science in tandem) are rather recent things, as Martin Heidegger
remarked: “In the Middle Ages a system is impossible, for there a ranked order of
correspondences is alone essential.”11 Or, in the words of Foucault: “From the sev-
enteenth century, resemblance was pushed out to the boundaries of knowledge”
(1973). The more scientific representation loses the narrative character to become
symbolic, the more consistency an inscription gains.
With the shift from other senses to visual perception what is gained, in the first
place, is not objectivity as such but what has been called “optical consistency”
(Latour 1990). Through optical consistency absent things are presented and brack-
eted within the visual field of the inscription in a way which allows for the object to
9
Quoted by E. Cassirer, Phenomenology of Knowledge (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1957),
205.
10
Quoted by Heidegger, The Question Concerning Technology and Other Essays (New York:
Harper & Row, 1977), 169.
11
Heidegger, Question Concerning Technology, 141. To this effect, Cassirer also points out that
“modern science becomes truly systematic by resolving to become symbolic in the strict sense.
The more it seems to lose sight of the similarity of things, the more clearly aware it becomes of the
lawfulness of beings and events.” Phenomenology of Knowledge, 452.
22 V. Westhelle
circulate in time and space without change or any need of the external referent. This
presence/absence of inscription in a two-dimensional plane, or occasionally in a
three-dimensional computer projection, has to meet, according to Latour, two basic
criteria to work. It needs to move through space and time and not change in this
move. Simultaneous immutability and mobility is what grants to representation the
power to make universally present what is absent. But what is made present has
already been filtered according to what we have called the “Europic Principle.”
Whatever knowledge there could be beyond the scientific inscription remains as
obscure or mysterious as is the conjecture of an ensemble of worlds to a cosmology
informed by the Anthropic Principle. This is how the world and the mind are domes-
ticated and colonized.
However, as Latour has insisted, not much is gained by focusing on visualization
and cognition alone. “If we remain at the level of the visual aspects only, we fall
back into a series of weak clichés” (1990). What needs to be added and what makes
not all of visualization of equal interest is what Latour calls the “agonistic situa-
tion.” “We need … to look at the way in which someone convinces someone else to
take up a statement, to pass it along, to make it more of a fact” (1990). In the words
of Donna Haraway: “Accounts of a ‘real’ world do not, then, depend on a logic of
‘discovery’, but on a power-charged social relation of ‘conversation’” (1991).
The search for objectivity is not only the result of the immutability and mobility
of the representation alone but that it can be accepted by a greater and greater num-
ber of people. The cost of dissent, of presenting a different or rearranged representa-
tion, grows proportionally, because a new representation will have to muster new
allies in a corresponding cascade of new simplified versions of facts. Hence, optical
consistency increases in inverse proportion to the narrative openness of an inscrip-
tion, not because there are hard and soft objects that condition the nature of the
representation, but because the inscription becomes “harder” the more allies it
musters.
This could be taken to be a circular argument if it is forgotten that consensus
grows precisely because and when the inscription moves away from open systems
of communication and praxis to artificial and symbolic language, that is, from
hermeneutics to representation. Elisabeth Eisenstein comments on this, showing
that the precision claimed for the “hard” sciences actually has to do with the preci-
sion by which knowledge is duplicated. “A new confidence in the accuracy of math-
ematical constructions, figures and numbers was predicated on a method of
duplication that transcended older limits imposed by time and space” (Eisenstein
1979). The production of knowledge qua representation is then a form of disciplin-
ing the mind by creating, through inscription, the opposition between mind and
body/nature. The Cartesian split between the res cogitans and the res extensa deter-
mines what has been called the “Western binarism,”12 which is the byproduct of
representation as inscription. The epistemological dispute of mentalism versus
12
Donna J. Haraway, Simians, Cyborgs, and Women, 198. On the tacit assumption that this bina-
rism has identified, since Descartes, the subject-object structure with the knower-known relation,
see Alfred North Whitehead, Adventures of Ideas (New York: Mentor Books, 1955), 177.
materialism is, thus, overcome by keeping the focus steady on the inscription out of
which the subject-object dichotomy emerges (Latour 1990). In other words, one
cannot conceive of the subject-object distinction before, in some sense, the repre-
sentation comes into “being.”
Experiences of Forgetting Time
This prompts the question of other “knowledges” that the representational proce-
dure does not encompass. It calls for a “language of narrative” to account for “expe-
riences of forgetting time,” Jackelén veers the gaze toward “time periods in which
measurable time plays no role,” which “are often the experiences that offer what
affects human life on its deepest level” (2003). They are so paradoxically because
representational practice does not encompass it for it cannot be contained in inscrip-
tion. Only narration that preserves the presencing of orality upholds an aura of mys-
tery that is otherwise lost in academic discourse.
“What is this society,” asks Latour, “in which a written, printed, mathematical
form has more credence, in case of doubt, than anything else: common sense, the
senses other than vision, political authority, tradition, and even the Scriptures?”
(1990) Or what is the claim to knowledge entailed in alchemy that chemistry could
not bring to its own inscription? Or how did the astronomic gazing of stars came to
exclude astrological musings? What about witchcraft, demonry, necromancy, deal-
ings with the occult, and so forth? What are the knowledges that often sustain exis-
tence but are not processed through the inscribed canons of rationality?
These questions might be taken as merely rhetorical ones. But the point is to take
them as genuine questions addressing the limits of the world science defines, the
limits beyond which the undefined intersects with the infinite. As opposed to the
“agonistic situation” of the sciences in their endeavor to define and control reality,
theology’s context opens the “critical situation” by which it is of the inconsistency
of its own representations. In the midst of the continuities of measurable reality that
science analyses and renders objective to the sight, this critique brings the theological
gaze not to another plane, another dimension, or a transcendent, but to the very
“messy middle of things.”
Distinguishing between the commentator and the critic in looking at a work of
art offers language to speak about the theological gaze in looking at science and
religion, Walter Benjamin offers the following argument. “Critique seeks the truth
content of a work of art; commentary, its material content.” And as if describing the
history of the relation of science and religion he observes that
the material content and the truth content, united at the beginning …, set themselves apart
from each other in the course of its duration [time], because the truth content always
remains to the same extent hidden as the material content comes to the fore. More and more,
therefore, the interpretation of what is striking and curious—that is the material content—
becomes a prerequisite for any later critic (Benjamin 1996).
24 V. Westhelle
And showing the importance of the work of science as “commentary” to the

critic, he continues:
One may compare him [the critic] to a paleographer in front of a parchment whose faded
text is covered by the lineaments of a more powerful script which refers to that text. As the
paleographer would have to begin by reading the latter script, the critic would have to begin
with commentary. And with one stroke and invaluable criterion of judgment springs out for
him… If, to use a simile, one views the growing work as a burning funeral pyre, then the
commentator stand before it like a chemist, the critic like an alchemist. Whereas for the
former, wood and ash remain the sole object of his analysis, for the later only the flame
itself preserves an enigma; that of what is alive. Thus the critic inquires into the truth whose
living flame continues to burn over the heavy logs of what is past and the light ashes of what
has been experienced (Benjamin 1996).
The challenge that is posed to the question of science and religion or by the rela-
tionship between time and eternity, of finitude and infinity poses the problem of the
undefined in the rational pursue of definition. Theologically this is the question of
the relationship between representation and presence, peras and apeiron, the latter
terms defined not as a beyond, but as a disturbance within. Between chronos and
kairos, between topos and chōra the undefined inscribes itself as being simultane-
ously outside, but equally inside (Westhelle 2012). This “insideoutness” (Derrida)
defies inscription for it would then no longer be presence but re-presentation how-
ever it can be detected in the moment in which it happens. It is present as event, or
we may say it also in reverse: the event is presencing itself that disrupts continuities
and yet does not cancel them. In the pertinent definition offered by Alain Badiou, “it
is the event alone, as illegal contingency, which … allows for the possibility of
overstepping finitude.” This finitude is the proper of all representation that offers a
stable appearance of instable reality by enunciating norms and laws, for “every law
is a cipher of a finitude” (Badiou 2003). And this cipher is the same if descriptive of
the physical laws of nature, the moral laws, or religious commandments. Regardless
if used as descriptive or prescriptive, applicable to nature, society or religion, legal
regulations have the same function of rendering reality stable. The event presents
itself as “illegal contingency.” Phrased theologically, it presents itself in the experi-
ence of the holy in its dual expression of astonishing; it can be the fascinans as it can
also be the tremendum, an enchanting experience of freedom as well as of a disaster,
the terrifying experience of the abyss.
The ambivalence of the experience of radical otherness makes the “sequestering”
(Giddens) of these experiences even more convenient. To keep these experiences
out of the frame of representation sanitizes the discourse of the received academic
disciplines so that the “hardness” of an academic field lies in the proportion in
which astonishment does not disturb the foundational procedures of measurement,
calculation and genetic ordering. What is gained in this process is quite clear. The
disciplined scientific (wissenschaftlich) discourse protects us from the terrifying
onslaught of despair that comes along with the total loss of control that the founda-
tional procedures provide. Laws—be they of natural, moral or religious order—
offer a solace in face of turmoil. But if this is what is gained, what is lost in the same
gesture of screening out the threat of the tremendum, is that the presencing of genu-
ine novelty (the novum) is equally exiled. Theologically speaking, the issue at stake
pertains to the relationship between law and gospel. In the Pauline-Lutheran fram-
ing of the issue as having the law as the “paedagogus in Christo” (Gal 3:24) the
issue lies in the relationship in which legalism and antinomianism are averted. But
what is being called for here cuts deeper in accepting the inconsistent disturbance of
presence in the texture that inscribes reality. The universality of the law does not
negate the singularity of novum that comes as present, as gift; neither does the gift
nullify the law. It rather creates a space in which it does not apply. The image that
Paul evokes is not one in which the law brings about maturation in the mastering of
it. Freedom would then be knowledge of all necessity. The image is reversed. The
breaking in of presence brings out the child in us, the one who plays in the middle
of the regulated life, and lives the present without purpose, for leisure’s sake, with-
out negotiation (nec-otium). To be a child of God is to be childish. Rudolf Bultmann
once observed with perspicacity that Jesus saying that the Kingdom of God belongs
to the children because they know how to receive gifts. Children know better the
meaning of gracious presence, of the present. This is given gratis, the time of forget-
ting time.
References
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Stanford UP.
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Bullock and Michael Jennings. Cambridge, MA: Belknap.
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Vintage Books.
Haraway, Donna. 1991. Simians, cyborgs, and women: The reinvention of nature. New York:
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& Row.
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Philadelphia: Templeton Foundation.
Jackelén, Antje. 2013. The dynamics of secularization, atheism and the so-called return of religion
and its significance for the public understanding of science and religion: Some European per-
spective. In Churrasco: A theological feast in Honor of Vítor Westhelle, ed. Philip Mary, Nunes
John Arthur, and Charles M. Collier. Euguene: Pickwick.
Latour, Bruno. 1990. Drawing things together in representation in scientific practice, ed. Michael
Lynch and Steve Woolgar, Cambridge, MA: MIT.
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UP.
Ong, W.J. 1982. Orality and literacy: The technologizing of the word. London: Methuen.
26 V. Westhelle
Otto, Rudolf. 1936 [1917]. Das Heilige: Über das Irrationale in der Idee des göttlichen und sein
Verhältnis zum Rationalen. München: C. H. Beck.
Otto, Rudolf. 1943. The Kingdom of God and the Son of Man: A Study in the History of Religion.
Trans. Floyd Filson and Bertram Lee-Woolf. London: Lutterworth.
Otto, Rudolf. 1950. The Idea of the Holy: An Inquiry into the Non-rational Factor in the Idea of
the Divine and its Relation to the Rational. Trans. John W. Harvey. London: Oxford UP.
Rilke, Reiner Maria. 1997. Die Gedichte. Frankfurt a/M: Insel.
Sheehan, Thomas (ed.). 1981. Heidegger, the man and the thinker. Chicago: Precedent.
Westhelle, Vítor. 1995. Scientific sight and embodied knowledges: Social circumstances in science
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Westhelle, Vítor. 2012. Space and eschatology: The lost dimension in theology. New York:
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Vítor Westhelle is professor of Systematic Theology at the Lutheran School of Theology at

Chicago and the chair of Luther Research at Faculdades EST, São Leopoldo, Brazil. He also serves
as the honorary professor of theology at the University of Aarhus. Born in Brazil and ordained
pastor in the Lutheran church, he is a teacher of theology who lectures and consults globally.
Westhelle is a well-known author with thirteen books and over 150 articles. His writings on
Christology, Ecclesiology, Luther, Liberation, Creation, the Apocalyptic, and Eschatology are
widely acclaimed. His latest book , After Heresy, and Eschatology and Space were highly praised.
A manuscript on Luther is currently in the works to be published by Cascade books.
Chapter 3
How to Understand Time in Relation
to Timeless Divine Action in a Time-Dependent
World
Anne L.C. Runehov
Abstract In Time & Eternity: The Question of Time in Church, Science and
Theology, Archbishop Antje Jackelén tackles the problem of time and eternity from
the perspective of three disciplines: theology, physics and philosophy. Her aim on
the one hand is to provide a different understanding of the role of time and eternity
in both theological and physical discourses; and, on the other, to create a better
dialogue between science and theology by way of concrete concepts. She under-
stands time to be both circular and linear, and as such, time becomes relational in its
core. She investigates three interpretations of time, quantitative, ontological and
eschatological. Studying both the classical and quantum understandings of time, she
concludes that there are similarities between the ways in which time is understood
in quantum physics and in eschatology in that both proceed from a static under-
standing towards a relational understanding of the world. If there is a relationship
between God and creation, she argues, it is more plausible to link chaotic dynamics
to God rather than a static order. It is more plausible to call God the Highest
Complexitas than the Highest Simplicitas. (Jackelén, Time and eternity. The ques-
tion of time in church, science, and theology. Templeton Foundation Press, West
Conshohocken, 2005).
Time and Eternity is indeed an excellent piece of scholarship which inspires
those from different disciplines who are interested in the subject of time. However,
some questions come to mind. Where does the idea of time as a relationship lead us?
What would we gain from accepting such a view in contrast to other understandings
of time? What does a relational understanding mean for the debate between science
and theology? Having this wonderful work in mind, I shall investigate how a quan-
tum physical worldview would adhere to the philosophical problem of divine action
in the world. The problem is stated as follows. Can God act in a time-dependent
world while God is understood to be timeless? What is problematic with the
concepts of eternity or infinity and impermanence? In order to answer this question,
A.L.C. Runehov (*)

Uppsala University, Uppsala, Sweden
e-mail: anne.runehov@teol.uu.se

28 A.L.C. Runehov
several understandings of time are analysed; e.g. three understandings suggested by

physics, i.e. the Newtonian, the Einsteinian and that of quantum physics; and other
understandings propounded by phenomenology and theology.
Keywords Atemporality • Eternity • Divine Action • Temporality • Time
Defining the Problem
The question is: Is God/Could God be understood to be timeless or atemporal and

act in a time-dependent or temporal world? The first question we need to answer is
where does the idea derive from that God is atemporal while the world is temporal?
I will focus on three possible explanations provided by Anne Conway, Paul Helm
and Nelson Pike. What does atemporal mean?
On the doctrine of eternity, atemporal duration is existence possessed completely, all at
once, present entirely to its possessor, whereas temporal duration is existence possessed
with radical incompleteness, a bit at a time, mostly already lost to its possessor or not yet
possessed (Stump and Kretzmann 1987).
Even though the Old Testament tells us that God acts, reacts, has a change of
mind, and is always present with the people, when reading Psalm 90, 1–3, for exam-
ple, the impression given is that God is timeless (Holy Bible 1994).
Lord, you have been our dwelling place
throughout all generations.
Before the mountains were born
or you brought forth the whole world,
from everlasting to everlasting you are God.
Still it is not this notion of eternity that has caused the philosophical problem of
how a timeless God could act in a time-dependent world. According to Anne
Conway (1631–1679), the fact that the will of God is eternal implies that creation is
necessarily immediate, without any time interval between God’s will and creation;
creation is the result of the will to create:
And yet it cannot be said that creatures considered in themselves are coeternal with God
because then eternity and time would be confused with each other (Conway [1690 (lat.),
1692 (Engl.)], 1996).
In Conway’s eyes, creation, as well as time, have their beginning in God’s eternal
will.1 Paul Helm argues, as many others have done, that it was Augustine who cre-
ated the problem by putting God beyond time and creation (Gabrielsson 1926).
“The doctrine of God’s timelessness seems to have entered Christian theology from
Neo-Platonism, and there from Augustine to Aquino it reigned” (Helm 1988). If, he
1
Anne Conway refuted (amongst other theories) the dualism of Henry More and Descartes.
3 How to Understand Time in Relation to Timeless Divine Action… 29
argues, we keep to the biblical understanding that God is “in” time, we will not have
this problem, because the biblical understanding is that God acts, reacts and changes.
Nelson Pike argues similarly when he writes that the doctrine of an atemporal
God was introduced because at that time Platonism was fashionable and its theories
reflected a systematic elegance. (Pike 2010). Indeed, as both Pike and Helm main-
tain, the problem arose during the Middle Ages when Greek philosophy merged
with Christian doctrine. Plato’s world of ideas in particular became attractive for the
Church fathers. This is understandable, knowing that Plato’s world of ideas, which
I would rather call the ideal world, is perfect compared to the imperfect world on
earth and which he sees as a shadow of the real, proper world. Simply put, every-
thing on earth is compared to gingerbread figures, baked in the same form but all
slightly different, and hence not as perfect as the form itself, which is only found in
the ideal world. The Church fathers adapted Plato’s idea to represent God’s creation.
God created the world in accordance with God’s own image. Hence, God was the
form and creation the gingerbread figures.
The consequence could not be avoided; namely, a substance dualism between
God and God’s creation. Eternity not only means always or in all times, but was now
understood as timeless. Temporality belonged to the universe and everything in it.
God, beyond the universe, on the other hand, became perfect or absolute; and there-
fore God could not be “in” time. God became timeless or atemporal. Augustine put
God far above the creation, implying that the physical and the heavenly could never
meet. Once introduced within theology, the doctrine of an atemporal God gathered
momentum. According to Christian theology, God is the creator and infinite spirit.
Furthermore, God created ex nihilo. If God were finite instead of infinite, God
would be dependent on someone or something else to create, which implies that
God could not be the creator. If creation had not occurred ex nihilo, it would have
occurred through stuff which already existed, and since this stuff would have been
infinite, God could not have created everything as it is believed God did. Timelessness
became an attribute amongst others that guarantees the attribute of consistency;
something which is necessary in order to explain the difference between the creator
and the created. Helm (1988) quotes Anselm of Canterbury (1033–1109) when he
writes:
1. Whatever is created is finite.
2. Whatever is finite is mutable.
3. Whatever is mutable is in time. Therefore,
4. Whatever is created is in time.
5. Whatever is the creator is infinite.
6. Whatever is infinite is immutable.
7. Whatever is immutable is outside time. Therefore,
8. Whatever is the creator is outside time.
We have a timeless or an atemporal God on the one hand and a time-dependent or
temporal universe on the other.
With the understanding of time as temporal came the understanding of a ‘march
of time’ or a ‘flow of time’ which is experienced in two different ways. Firstly, the
30 A.L.C. Runehov
flow of time is experienced as if it comes towards us from the future, over the pres-
ent and into the past. Secondly, it is experienced in a Newtonian way, i.e. coming
from the past towards the future. Suppose you are sitting in a train. Is it time that
moves, or is it you moving through time? Timelessness, on the other hand, has no
succession; everything is lasting. Anne Conway distinguishes between time as infi-
nite and God’s infinity. According to her there is nothing remarkable about the con-
cept of infinity or about the idea of infinite time. Time has in itself the property of
being infinite.
For just as no time is so great that it is not possible to conceive of a greater, so likewise no
time is so small that a lesser may not be imagined. […] Nevertheless, this infinity of time is
not equal to the infinite eternity of God, since the divine eternity has no times in it and noth-
ing in it can be said to be past or future, but it is always and wholly present, and while he is
in time, he is not bound by time (Conway 1996).
Human Perception of Time
What is it that makes us aware, or at least gives us the impression that there exists
some kind of temporal duration that we call time? What is it that lies behind our
apprehension, feeling or perception that time flows? Human beings seem to per-
ceive time as moving from past to present to future, or, from future to present to
past. Perhaps, the fact that we experience time in these different ways may have led
to the understanding of time as circular. Psychologically speaking, humans respond
to their environment in such a way that they experience one perceived event preced-
ing or succeeding another. According to Augustine, the experience of the flow of
time is rather a matter of transience (a kind of moving on); for others it is a matter
of succession (one event after the other); and yet others argue that the human brain
has some clock-like device. Among physicists our perception of time can only be
examined in relation to perception of other events. This makes experiencing a flow
of time a function of psychological and physiological processes. From the very
beginning of the study of philosophy there have been unsuccessful attempts to solve
the riddle of time perception. It might be interesting to investigate some of these
studies and take a closer look as to why they fail to justify the existence of a flow of
time. Let us therefore examine the concept of the specious present.
The specious present, or conscious or mental present, is generally measured by
determining the period of time over which stimuli may be spread and yet conceived
as one temporal unit (Frankenhaeuser 1959). The most investigated example for the
conscious present is music. How is music perceived? When we listen to a melody,
we perceive groups of notes, woven together, stretched in time, but still we do not
perceive them simultaneously. (If they were experienced simultaneously the sound
perceived would be a chord, which is something completely different). Listening to
music is an auditory experience in which we are not directly aware of separate tem-
poral events. Nevertheless, we seem to experience some kind of time flow. What
could this be due to? Several propositions have been submitted. One is that memory
is the cause of the illusionary perception of time progression. Fortunately or unfor-
tunately, this proposition fails. Indeed, it seems peculiar that while listening to a
piece of music we should be aware of hearing the note Mi, whilst having a short-
term memory of having heard the note Do and a short-term memory of having heard
the note Re, whilst having a short-term memory of having heard the note Do. This
example concerns only three notes; imagine listening to one of Bach’s Fugues! That
would imply that we would have memories of memories of memories of memories
of …. in a huge Russian dolls style. Lockwood writes, “such nesting of short-term
memories within short-term memories like Russian dolls is a psychological absur-
dity” (Lockwood 1996).
Another proposal is Brentano’s phenomenological solution (Brentano 1995).
Even though this proposal is a better one than the memory one, it also fails to explain
our time perception in a satisfactory manner. Brentano’s thought is that one and the
same phenomenon can be presented to our consciousness in different ways, and this
is likewise true with things we are not immediately conscious about. For instance,
the note Do can present as present Do, recently past Do, or further past Do. Imagine
hearing the scale Do Re Mi. The note Do will present itself as the present note,
quickly followed by Re presenting itself as the present note together with the note
Do just past. This perception will be followed by Mi, presenting itself as the present
note together with the note Re just past and the note Do further past. Just past and
further past are two representative positions on a phenomenally continuous spec-
trum of temporal modes. The problem here is that we simply do not perceive in such
a way; we have no need to analyse how we perceive; we just do. We perceive a piece
of music as it presents itself to our consciousness in a temporal order. Another prob-
lem with this proposal is that “just past” could be interpreted as an act of memory
similar to Bertrand Russell’s concept of immediate memory, meaning that “we are,
in his technical sense of direct awareness, acquainted with past sounds, shapes and
so forth that lie within the specious present” (Lockwood 1989; Russell 2001).
Yet another proposal is that we confuse phenomenal change with temporal pas-
sage. The problem is that there is nothing inherently dynamic about change. Change
merely means that different times are associated with different phenomenal attri-
butes. Lockwood makes a suggestion à la Hume. He divides the concept of change
into a first order change and a second order change. A first order change is a change
in tone, such as when jet fighters fly overhead. This change is analogous to the varia-
tions in colour within the visual field when looking at the sky. A second order
change has no spatio-visual analogue. By the second order change Lockwood means
variations in the way that a single phenomenal item is presented from one phenom-
enal perspective to another (Fig. 3.1).
According to Lockwood, if we compare this idea of dividing the concept of
change into a first and second order change with Hume’s theory of causation, we
will see that it does for temporal flow what causation does for the concept of causal
connection. Hume said that there is nothing more to causation than a constant con-
junction of similar pairs of events. When on several occasions we experience event
A closely followed by event B without ever experiencing A without B, we will
32 A.L.C. Runehov
Time and mind
La Ti Do memory
Ti Do Current
Second awareness
order
change
Do
Expectation
First order change
Fig. 3.1 First and second order phenomenal change. The middle box represents one’s current
phenomenal perspective. The transition within this box, from Ti to Do to silence exemplifies first
order change. Second order change is exemplified by the change from one perspective (i.e. one
box) to another. The top box is intended to represent a phenomenal perspective which precedes that
corresponding to the middle box, but which still lingers in vivid, short-term experiential memory
(also called working memory). The bottom box represents a succeeding phenomenal perspective,
which is the subject of expectation (Lockwood 1989)
expect a B whenever we experience an A. This expectation is then illicitly projected

onto reality. We will think that A and B are connected by some relation of necessity.
According to Lockwood, “[t]he theory just proposed regarding our experience of
time is very much in this Humean tradition. For it too invokes the notion of projec-
tion” (Lockwood 1989). The Humean account is not completely persuasive though.
There may be some truth in this, psychologically speaking; however, the fundamen-
tal reason why we experience things the way we do is simply because things are that
way. There are simply causal connections in the world and we do, in some way,
progress through time. Hence, even if there is no room for time within the sciences,
we do experience time.
Inclining towards Thomas Nagel’s idea (Nagel 1993), I would argue that even if
scientifically we cannot prove the existence of time, we all experience a kind of time
flow. It is from our own and others’ perspectives that we build our subjective and
intersubjective worldviews. However, this does not solve the main problem under
discussion here: atemporal divine action in a temporal world. It is now time to pres-
ent some scientific understandings of time.
Newtonian Time
Within Newtonian physics, or classical physics, time and space are understood in a
common-sense way (Newton 2010). There is no problem with the idea that time and
space are experienced separately. The Newtonian view prescribes a
three-dimensional reality that moves forward in time. In this temporal order there is
a past, a present and a future. Time itself is absolute and moves constantly without
being affected by external features. However, just because Newtonian physics fol-
lows a common-sense understanding, this does not mean that it is without philo-
sophical problems. For example, Newton’s physics introduces a deterministic
understanding of the universe and everything in it. Everything in the past, present
and future is fixed. Indeed, with the help of Newton’s laws, based on the mutual
effect between particles, it is possible to precisely predict the behaviour of a parti-
cle. To put it differently, if it were possible to know both the location and velocity
of every particle in the universe, one could know the future of the universe. That
would imply that every human being’s life is determined. Free will becomes an illu-
sion. The flow of time, which is fixed, is often presented as an arrow moving from
left to right, representing an infinite duration of time, in which the left side repre-
sents the past and the right side the future. Somewhere along the arrow between the
left and right is the present, which is often marked by a dot.
Past Future Past
Needless to say, such an understanding is problematic. For instance, suppose we

can imagine time as an arrow, what would be the past’s duration, present and future?
Is the present simply a dot? Or does it extend towards the past and the future, and if
so how far? Clearly our experience of the present includes moments of both the past
and the future in terms of memory and in terms of plans and dreams and expecta-
tions. Exactly where on the arrow would we put these memories and plans? In order
to return to the main philosophical problem of divine action in the world, it seems
to be correct to argue that God, being atemporal, could not act in a temporal world;
at least not if the world is understood in a Newtonian physical manner. If we accept
that God acts in the world while maintaining a Newtonian worldview, we need to
abandon the theistic understanding of God being atemporal, or timeless.
Einsteinian Time
Albert Einstein once said that time and space are modes by which we think and not
conditions in which we live. Indeed, things changed when Einstein entered the
arena of physics. With Einstein, time became a fourth dimension in addition to the
three dimensions of space. Space and time were no longer separate. What happens
in time also happens in space and vice versa. His way of thinking implied that real-
ity became a hypercube in which everything has its place, the past as well as the
future, and everything in between. In other words, when a group of people are in the
same room they are in the same position in space and time. They are in the same
position in space as the people who were in this room previously, but obviously not
on the same time line. Two new concepts were introduced; coordinate time and
34 A.L.C. Runehov
proper time. Coordinate time implies that there is no universal march or flow of
time. This is so because there is no universal present; and therefore no universal past
or future. According to Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, attributions of length, or of
temporal separation between events, only make sense when they are understood as
relative to a chosen frame of reference. For instance, suppose that Antje Jackelén
and I move towards each other in order to greet each other. Since we are moving
relative to each other (due to having different frames of reference) we will disagree
about the temporal and spatial separation between the two events taken individually.
However, we would agree upon the spatio-temporal interval, which would be the
result of a measurement of spatial distances in three dimensions, with time as the
fourth dimension. The result of this measurement, known as space-time distance (or
proper time), turns out to be the same for all observers, regardless of their state of
motion (Isaacson 2007; Flood and Lockwood 1986). Nevertheless, neither coordi-
nate time nor proper time involve any notion of time passing, or the flow of time.
Consequently, the flow of time, or passing of time, has to be consigned to the mind.
What does the Einsteinian understanding of time mean for atemporal divine action
in the world? I am afraid this view is not fruitful either, even if we do now have a
four-dimensional worldview. God, apprehended as atemporal, would still be beyond
the Einstein space-time world. We are still confronted with a dualistic view of real-
ity; i.e. God and the world are hopelessly separate.
However, Eleonora Stump and Norman Kretzmann think otherwise. They argue
that understanding God as an atemporal actor in a temporal world needs to imply a
time paradox. The problem, according to them, lies in a misunderstanding of the
concept of eternity. One misunderstanding is that eternity is equalled to endless
elongation in time. Another misunderstanding is that eternity is identified as atem-
porality, which means an isolated static moment. Taken from Boethius, “Aeternitas
igitur est interminabilis vitae tota simul et perfecta possessio” (Stump and Norman
1981).2
Stump and Kretzmann put their finger on four elements in Boethius’ definition of
eternity causing incoherence (Beothius 2000).
1. What is eternal has life.
2. The life of an eternal being is infinite (there is no beginning and no end).
3. This implies an infinite time extension.
4. This implies that to be a being having both absolute and infinite life is to be
atemporal. A being that owns his/her life all at once cannot be temporal but
needs to be atemporal.3
According to Stump and Kretzmann, the terms atemporality and temporality are
apprehended from within the wrong frames of reference. For example, atemporality
is explained in terms of an infinite present and is hence understood as temporal, as
a moment. Clearly, we have to accept a confusion of concepts. A typical example is
2
Eternity and absolute ownership by an infinite life.
3
According to Boethius, eternity is a form of existence that cannot be reduced to or is incompatible
with time.
when we try to divide an infinite extent of time into parts. The problem is that the
extent consists of lengths, which consist of lengths, which consist of lengths, in a
never ending manner. The Greek philosopher Zenon has already pointed to this
particular problem; i.e. the problem of dividing an infinite distance into a finite one.
In order to reach a certain distance one has to cover half of the distance, but in order
to cover half of that distance one has to cover half of the half of that distance, and
so on, to infinity. The problem is that within finite time one cannot cover an endless
distance; hence, the result is that one will never reach one’s goal. Stump and
Kretzmann therefore point to the illusion of the paradox, and maintain that we can
only divide infinite distances (or time) at an abstract level, not at a physical level.
We can only explain the concepts of infinity and finite time from their specific
frames of reference.
To repeat the incoherence: an infinite being cannot be divided into sequences.
Form the point of view of eternity, there is no earlier, no later; nothing belongs to
the past, the present, or the future.
The second incoherence concerns atemporality and life. Life is understood to
incorporate a succession of time. Life is associated with processes and processes are
time-dependent. The consequence then becomes that an atemporal being could not
possess life because atemporality is incoherent with life. Stump and Kretzmann
tackle this problem with the help of Thomas Aquinas’ idea that God is divine con-
sciousness (Aquinas 1991). They then distinguish between conscious acts that
imply time and those that do not. For instance, to read and think imply time, but to
know does not. To wish implies time but to will does not. Similarly, to perceive
implies time but to be conscious does not. The point they want to make is that all
types of consciousness possess life; even types of consciousness that do not possess
all the attributes living beings normally have. At first sight it seems that they have
solved the problem, and to a certain extent they have. However, and unfortunately,
their solution implies dualism. Indeed, it implies a dualism between acting and
being (sein) or at least between physical actions and conscious actions.
To be sure, the assumption with which Descartes begins has come to seem very question-
able; his own conception of (conscious) minds as independent substances, fully unified
within themselves, and wholly distinct one from another, fails to do justice to the empirical
facts. And even in the absence of those facts, it is surely a shortcoming of his view that fails
to accommodate the logical possibility of simultaneous, overlapping phenomenal perspec-
tives (Descartes 2003; Lockwood 1989:94).
What catches a philosophical mind is the sentence ‘… fails to accommodate the

logical possibility of simultaneous, overlapping phenomenal perspectives’. The
atemporal being is a conscious being (or consciousness in itself, Consciousness
with a capital C) that only acts mentally; while the temporal being acts both physi-
cally and mentally. The question is raised again, how can an atemporal Consciousness
act in a temporal conscious-physical world? Stump and Kretzmann try to solve this
problem by introducing the concept of co-existence. However, does co-existence
not imply simultaneity? Stump and Kretzmann make a division between temporal
co-existence and atemporal co-existence. Because atemporal existence cannot
36 A.L.C. Runehov
include any time-order, they define atemporal existence as simultaneous existence

or atemporal actions within the same infinite presence.
Suppose we designate the ordinary understanding of temporal simultaneity T-simultaneity:
(T) T-simultaneity = existence or occurrence at one and the same time. Then we can easily4
enough construct a second species of simultaneity, a relationship obtaining between two
eternal entities or events: (E) E-simultaneity = Existence or occurrence at one and the same
eternal present. (Stump and Norman 1981).
The problem is that in order to show that it is plausible for a timeless God to act
in a time-dependent world, Stump and Kretzmann need to define simultaneity
between two relata, one of which is temporal and the other atemporal. Hence, they
establish such a relationship by highlighting what T and E have in common, and this
turns out to be simultaneous existence or events. However, in order to establish TE,
simultaneous existence or events need to be supplemented with some type of exten-
sion coherent with both T and E. Since TE includes an atemporal relatum, a TE
relationship needs to refer to one and the same present, rather than to one and the
same moment. Furthermore, TEs consist of two independent entities (a temporal
and an atemporal one) of which neither is reducible to the other. Inspired by
Einstein’s Special Theory of Relativity (STR) they argue:
Events occurring at different places which are simultaneous in one frame of reference will
not be simultaneous in another frame of reference which is moving with respect to the first.
This is known as the relativity simultaneity (Stump 2003).
Hence we are forced to define simultaneity as existence or occurrence at the

same time within the frame of reference of a given conscious observer. Since God
is understood as consciousness, the problem of divine atemporal action in the tem-
poral world seems to be resolved. Is this the case? Let us take a closer look.
1. If x and z are temporal entities, they co-exist, if and only, if there is a time-zone
in which both x and z exist.
2. If something exists atemporally, its existence, regardless of its infinite extent, is
wholly present.
3. It follows from this that the entire life of every atemporal entity co-exists with
every temporal entity in every moment of its existence.
4. Hence, seen from a temporal frame of reference, the atemporal is always present
in all its potential.
5. Seen from an atemporal frame of reference, all times are present and co-exist
with the entire atemporal existence. (Stump and Norman 1981) (Fig. 3.2).
Thus far, Stump and Kretzmann were able to provide an alternative understanding
of how God, being atemporal, could act in a temporal world. The idea is that God
hears prayers, which implies divine action. Being aware that such action implies a
time-interval, they argue that they solved the problem by establishing a TE
simultaneity.
4
By ‘easily’ they mean, “it is easy to provide a coherent characterization of a simultaneity relation-
ship that is not temporal in a case where both the relata are eternal entities or events”.
¥ ¥
Atemporal
¥ ¥
Temporal
Fig. 3.2 Illustration of TEs according to Stump and Kretzmann. Two infinite parallel horizontal
lines, the upper one representing eternity, is entirely and uniformly a strip of light (where light
represents the present), while the lower one, representing time, is dark everywhere except for a dot
of light moving steadily along it. […] the light, in the representations of eternity and of time,
should be interpreted as an indivisible present. For any instant of time as that instant is present, the
whole of eternity is present at once; the infinitely enduring, indivisible eternal present is simultane-
ous with each temporal instant as it is the present instant (Stump and Kretzmann 1987)
[…] consider the case of Hannah’s praying on a certain day to have a child and her conceiv-
ing several days afterward. Both the day of her prayer and the day of her conceiving are
ET-simultaneous with the life of an eternal entity. If such an entity atemporally wills that
Hannah conceive on a certain day after the day of her prayer, then such an entity’s bringing
it about that Hannah conceives on that day is clearly a response to her prayer, even though
the willing is ET-simultaneous with the prayer rather than later (Stump and Kretzmann
1981).
However, from what has been pointed out earlier in relation to Stump and
Kretzmann’s use of consciousness, as well as their division of conscious activities,
which risks dualism, it can only be argued that God acts alongside and not ‘in’ the
world.
Could Stump and Kretzmann have done otherwise? The question is whether tem-
poral time actually exists. Einstein’s Special Theory of Relativity is fruitful for
showing that an atemporal being can co-exist with a temporal one because of the
notion of different frames of reference. But it is not enough to show mutual action.
Co-existing does not necessarily imply co-working. In my opinion they should have
taken a step further; namely, to move from Einsteinian time to quantum time.
Quantum Time
In order to solve the problem of dualism we need a conceptual adjustment concern-

ing both the mental and the physical. That is why we have to consider the so-called
measurement problem of quantum physics; i.e. we need to understand:
[…]what, in quantum [physical] terms, happens when we observe a physical system. […].
What the quantum-[physical] measurement problem is really alerting us to, [it] is a deep
problem as to how consciousness (specifically the consciousness of the observer) fits into
or maps on to the physical world (Lockwood 1989).
38 A.L.C. Runehov
Within quantum physics the mental and the physical receive the same status.
Hence, mental states and events should follow the same temporal and spatial order
as physical states and events. To put it differently, mental events are temporally and
spatially related to physical events in the same way as physical events are related to
each other. Therefore, and supported by Einstein’s Special Theory of Relativity, one
can assign mental states an independent locality. In other words, if physical states
are in space, given they are in time, so mental states must be in space given that they
are in time.
Let A be a physical event that causes a mental event B, which in turn causes a physical event
C. If we know the time of occurrence and spatial locations of A and C, then we can at least
place bounds upon the time of occurrence and spatial location of the mental event B: it
must lie within the intersection of the forward light cone of A and the backward light cone
of C (Lockwood 1989).
Hence, the mental and the physical seem to adjust to quantum physics, if quan-
tum physics are universally applicable. (Lockwood 1989)
We need to take a look at the measurement problem. The measurement problem
of quantum mechanics deals with the problem of where to put the border between
the classical world and the quantum world; i.e. between the macro world and the
micro world. What I call the border problem is better known as the problem of the
collapse; i.e. When does the wave function collapse?5 The question is what happens
when we observe a physical system?
The basic physical variable used in quantum physics is the wave function, Ψ, as
described by the Schrödinger equation, which states that if we know Ψ at time zero
and we know the Hamiltonian, then we can calculate Ψ for all future times. The first
postulate of quantum mechanics is that all information about a physical system is to
be found in the wave function, Ψ, of that system. If we manipulate the wave function
Ψ6 which we do when we measure and/or observe a particle, then we receive infor-
mation about the location, energy and velocity of that particle. The wave function is
interpreted in terms of probability, which means that we can only specify (for exam-
ple) a probable location of the particle. For example, a die could be understood as a
superposition of all its six possible states, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6. Once the die is thrown
of course only one state will be on top, 1 or 2 or 3 etc… In quantum physics, the
moment the die is observed on the table, the wave function Ψ of the die-system col-
lapses into one of its classical states 1 or 2 or 3, etc.7 The basic attribute or charac-
5
It is important to note that the concept of collapse was mostly used by von Neumann,
“Mathematical Foundations of Quantum Mechanics”, Princeton, 1955. Neither Bohr nor
Heisenberg used the term collapse. Von Neumann had a more realistic view on the wave function;
he was concerned with criticism of the measurement problem. Bohr and Heisenberg avoided the
measurement problem by having a non-realistic view of the wave function which made it possible
to avoid the collapse. It is important to notice the distinction between the von Neumann view and
the Bohr/Heisenberg view.
6
It might be interesting to note that Schrödinger gave the wave function Ψ an ontological meaning;
he meant that the wave function Ψ exists independently of our knowledge about it.
7
The example with the die derives from my notes of a lecture given by Dr. Henrik Carlsson at the
department of Quantum Chemistry, Uppsala University.
teristic of quantum physics is that whenever we measure or observe a physical

system, the system collapses to one of its possible classical states. We do not know
which state or states the system was in before measurement or observation took
place. Not knowing which state or states the system is in before measurement is, so
I believe, what Bohr (with his non-realistic view) meant when he said that nothing
exists unless observed.
Is there something problematic about the collapse? As mentioned above, when
we measure a physical system (quantum-physically speaking), the classical world
(the measuring apparatus and the observer) meets the quantum world (the particle).
This meeting causes the system to collapse. The problem, it seems, is to know when
the collapse takes place. According to Eugene Wigner, the collapse occurs when the
observer becomes aware (conscious) of the result of the measurement.
In other words, the impression which one gains at an interaction, called also the result of an
observation, modifies the wave function of the system. The modified wave function is,
furthermore, in general unpredictable before the impression gained at the interaction has
entered our consciousness: it is the entering of an impression into our consciousness which
alters the wave function because it modifies our appraisal of the probabilities for different
impressions which we expect to receive in the future. It is at this point that the conscious-
ness enters the theory unavoidably and unalterably (Wigner 1983).
One consequence of the collapse is that, as Lockwood writes, as soon as an

observation is made and the undiminished reality (wave function) breaks down (col-
lapses) possible comprehension of that undiminished reality is lost. As Bohr also
said, we (observers) need to disturb the system when we observe it. We cannot
conceive of what the wave function is in itself. We can only conceive the eigenval-
ues (one of the possible outcomes) resulting from a performed measurement or
observation on the wave function. In my view, this confirms what Immanuel Kant
held many years ago; i.e. that we cannot have knowledge about the thing as it is in
itself. It also confirms Bertrand Russell’s argument that we can only think of matter
by description: as that which stands in a certain relation to our perception. Let us
return to the topic of this paper and ask how time is understood in quantum
mechanics.
Quantum mechanically, time is problematic and not exact. A general interpreta-
tion of time is that it is a parameter; some kind of label, which marks a certain state.
In this sense all times are equally possible. To repeat, before observing a physical
system, the system is in a superposition of all its possible states. This superposition
then also includes all possible times. Suppose we want to measure a particular phys-
ical system at 3 pm; then the probability of getting 3 pm is greater than getting 5 pm
Wednesday afternoon 2015. However, within quantum physics, time is but a label.
So where does this leave us? The problem is that 3 pm is a classical physical time.
There can only be one time quantum physically: the present. Past and future only
exist in the present. This means that, quantum physically, we can relive past events,
but only in the present; we can imagine future events, but only in the present. As
such we are free to live the past and future at will. We can change the events of our
past and build events in our future. For example, I can imagine that I received this
40 A.L.C. Runehov
wonderful pink princess dress from Santa Claus when I was a child; I can relive this
particular event of the past in a mode that is not true, but I also know it is not true.
According to Lockwood, time is a brain observable in its own right (Lockwood
1989). Thus, Lockwood treats time as an element in a preferred set of brain observ-
ables. In this way, like all the other brain observables, time becomes an element of
a superposition of the preferred set of brain observables. Time would differ from the
other observables in the preferred set only in so far as one has, by way of memory,
access to eigenvalues (which is to say times) alternative to that which is associated
with any given phenomenal perspective. Seeing a green apple in the afternoon is in
the preferred set of brain observables, namely apple and green and afternoon. He
writes,
Suppose it were possible to construe time itself as an observable in the quantum-mechanical
sense. As such it would have a spectrum of eigenvalues that corresponded to a range of
possible times. And each of these different times would appear as the time – as now, that
is – from the standpoint of a corresponding phenomenal perspective (Lockwood 1989).
To Lockwood, if the sense of the flow of time, the sense of progression through
time, is not an illusion, it surely is but a perspective-relative phenomenon, some-
thing that occurs only from the point of view of the sentient being itself. The fact
that we use external clocks does not change the states of things in themselves, save
for the relationship between their states and the states of ourselves. A given phe-
nomenal perspective corresponds to a set of eigenvalues of some preferred set of
compatible brain observables. Only if time observables are themselves included in
the set associated with phenomenal perspectives can these perspectives collectively
come to generate streams of consciousness. However, what is intuitively true is that
we are simply aware of some kind of time passing. We cannot explain how we know
that we are aware of a passing of time, but we are aware of ourselves being present
and of others becoming present in our present. We are aware of things and phenom-
ena becoming present in our present. We are aware of our experiences and experi-
ments. We know that, as Kant put it, whatever we experience, we experience within
a space-time frame (Kant 2004). We are also aware of a possible tomorrow that will
possibly become our next present; and that yesterday can never become a new
present in the way it was present yesterday. Furthermore, we are aware of that one-
way time ticket from physical birth to physical death, a ticket valid for all of us and
everything around us.
It is true of course that when we observe something, we observe it at time ‘now’.
There is no other possibility. If we want to have access to a previous time, we have
to recall the eigenvalues of a previous observation; but this previous observed time
is also observed as now. It is within our own biography that we build a history, as it
is only within our biography that the eigenvalues of our different observations,
including all the nows of the different observations, are to be found. By way of
memory we have access to our history. It is within our own history, our own biogra-
phy, that we mistakenly believe in experiencing a passing of time. May it be due to
the way in which our sensory responses are constructed? It is within our own biog-
raphy that we know what it is like to witness a passing of time. But as we can only
answer this question for ourselves, the passing of time seems to be a subjective
matter.
To return to our main problem, how can God be understood as being timeless and
also act in a time-dependent world? We have seen that within quantum physics it is
the observer who plays the leading role. It is the observer who has access to a dimin-
ished (collapsed) reality. As mentioned earlier, we do not have access to the whole
of reality (the superposition). However, God has, if we accept the understanding that
God is omniscient and timeless. In the language of quantum physics, God would
have access to the superposition itself, including all its possible states. For example,
God could have access to both the great fire in Rome, in the year 64 AD, and to you
reading this paper in 2015. Suppose the impossible, that we could reconstruct the
superposition God has access to, we would see a state (eigenvalue) in which Rome
burns and in which Rome does not burn; in which you read this paper and in which
you do not care about reading this paper; as well as all other possible states. There
is no time. One might perhaps say that God who is timeless encompasses the whole
superposition. If we reconstruct what you have access to, and suppose you actually
are reading this paper, then you have collapsed the superposition into “reading this
paper just now” and you will have put a time label on “reading just now”. You will
not see a burning Rome, but of course you will see other states related to you read-
ing the paper. Suppose now that you discover the book The Great Fire of Rome on
the shelf. What happens is that you collapse the superposition again from within
your frame of reference, putting a time label on that observation. Suppose now that
you take the book and immerse yourself into the historical event of the great fire of
Rome; you will put the time label now on it (i.e. your time label at the time of read-
ing this book). This means that God, understood in a quantum mechanical sense
(rather than in a Newtonian sense), can be timeless and act in the world; but the
action is through you. To me, this line of thinking fits well with the Christian under-
standing that it is we who need to do the will of God. God does not force anything
upon us.
Let us look at the following example. Suppose Jacob is ill at time t. Suppose God
cures him at time t′. Obviously there is a time interval between t and t′. Hence,
understood in a classical way, God cannot cure Jacob, because that would imply that
God has to be in time in order to act upon Jacob. Jacob’s personal biography can be
presented as Ψ (…). (There is nothing between the brackets because there is nothing
to be remembered yet). When Jacob lies ill in bed, he correlates with the state of
illness but also with the state of wellness (he remembers both being sick and well).
In a manner of speaking, he is part of the superposition together with all possible
states of biography. Suppose Jacob observes, at time t + 1, that he feels sick; call it
Ψ + 1 (…, Ψ). Following Lockwood then, this eigenstate will be followed by a phe-
nomenal perspective, Ψ + 2 (…, Ψ, Ψ + 1), that is associated with a memory of this
impression of feeling sick. What happened between time t and time t + 1 relative to
his biography (which includes consciously observing feeling sick) is a transition in
the relative state of having been healthy to becoming sick. In the state Ψ (…) Jacob
is both sick and well. Suppose further that at time t + 1 he observes that he feels well
42 A.L.C. Runehov
again; call it Ψ′ + 1 (…, Ψ).8 Following Lockwood again, this eigenstate will be fol-
lowed by a phenomenal perspective, Ψ′ + 2 (…, Ψ, Ψ′ + 1) that is associated with a
memory of this impression of being well. Then, relative to his biography, the transi-
tion from t to t + 1 is associated with a transition in the relative state of having been
sick to becoming well. Jacob now feels healthy Ψ + 2 (…, Ψ).
Hence, within a quantum physical perspective, God does not need to be in time;
it is enough that Jacob is. It is enough that Jacob observes that he is cured at time t′;
that he has observed the alteration from having been ill to having become well.
From a God’s-eye perspective (the perspective of the superposition), Jacob is in a
state of illness, in a state of wellness, and all other possible states. There is no time.
If Jacob observes that he has been cured, it is Jacob who collapsed the superposition
into wellness at time t´. In my opinion, a quantum physical understanding provides
an alternative view as to how God can act in a temporal world while being atempo-
ral. However, this is not to say that there are no other problems with a quantum
physical worldview.
The quantum mechanical worldview is able to describe our relationship to God
and God’s relationship to creation. However, is it plausible to interpret the world in
quantum mechanical terms? In other words, can we apply quantum mechanics,
which is a theory, to an ontological state? If the Newtonian worldview based on
Newton’s theories has provided us with adequate information of what it is to be a
human being in the world for more than 200 years, and if Einstein’s theories
expanded this information, why would quantum theories not have something to add
to the information of what it is to be a human being in the world, which for many
includes God? To end this chapter, God is indeed the highest Complexitas.
References
Boethius. 2000. The consolation of philosophy, Oxford world’s classics. Oxford: Oxford University
Press.
Brentano, Franz. 1995. Psychology from an empirical standpoint. In The international library of
philosophy, ed. Crane Tim and Wolff Jonathan. Oxon: Routledge.
Conway, Anne. 1690. Principia philosophiae antiquissimae et recentissimae de Deo, Christo et
Creatura id est de materia et spiritu in genere. Amsterdam.
Conway, Anne. 1692. The principles of the most ancient and modern philosophy. London.
Conway, Anne. 1996. The principles of the most ancient and modern philosophy. New York:
Cambridge University Press.
Descartes, René. 2003. Treatise of man, Great mind series. New York: Prometheus Books.
Flood, Raymond, and Michael Lockwood (eds.). 1986. The nature of time. Oxford: Basil Blackwell.
Frankenhaeuser, Marianne. 1959. Estimation of time, an experimental study. Stockholm: Almqvist
& Wiksell.
Gabrielsson, Johannes. 1926. Augustinus. Stockholm: Albert Bonniers Förlag.
Helm, Paul. 1988. Eternal God, a study of God without time. Oxford: Clarendon.
8
The prime ′ indicates that this is a different eigenstate of the relevant set of compatible brain
observables.
Isaacson, Walter. 2007. Einstein: His life and universe. London: Simon & Schuster.
Jackelén, Antje. 2005. Time and eternity. The question of time in church, science, and theology.
West Conshohocken: Templeton Foundation Press.
Kant, Immanuel. 2004. Kritik av det rena förnuftet. Riga: Thales.
Lockwood, Michael. 1989. The mind, the brain and the quantum. Oxford: Basil Blackwell Ltd.
Lockwood, Michael. 1996. Many minds, interpretations of quantum mechanics. British Journal
for the Philosophy of Science 47: 159–88.
Nagel, Thomas. 1993. Usikten från ingenstans. Falun: Nya Doxa.
Newton, Isaac. 2010. The Principia. London: Snowball Publishers.
Pike, Nelson. 2010. God and timelessness, vol. 7. London: Routledge.
Russell, Bertrand. 2001. Chap. 17: On the experience of time. In The human experience of time,
ed. M. Sherover, 297–314. Evanston: Northwestern University Press.
St. Thomas Aquinas. 1991. Summa Theologiae, ed. Timothy McDermott. Notre Dame: Christian
Classics.
Stump, Eleonora. 2003. Aquinas. London: Routledge.
Stump, Eleonore, and Norman Kretzmann. 1981. Eternity. The Journal of Philosophy 78(8):
429–458.
Stump, Eleonore, and Norman Kretzmann. 1987. Atemporal duration, a reply to Fitzgerald. The
Journal of Philosophy 84(4): 214–219.
The Holy Bible, New International Version. 1994. London: Hodder and Stoughton.
Wigner, Eugene. 1983. The nature of time. In Quantum theory and measurement, ed. Wheeler John
Archibald and Zurek Wojcieck Hubert, 260–314. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Anne L.C. Runehov has an Associate Professor degree from the Uppsala University (2011) and
currently works as an independent researcher and author. She is member of the steering committee
of the conferences “The Structure of Creditions”, University of Graz, Austria. She earned a Doctor
degree in Philosophy of Religion at Uppsala University (2004), and a Master degree in Theoretical
Philosophy, major Philosophy of Mind at the same university (1999). She is EiC of the Encyclopedia
of Sciences and Religions, Springer 2013. She is co-editor for the ESSSAT book series Issues in
Science and Religion, (2014–). She was editor in chief for the series Copenhagen University
Discussions in Science and Religion, Faculty of Theology publications, Copenhagen, during her
time as director for the Copenhagen University Network of Science and Religion, (2008–2013).
She is also field editor for the European Journal of Science and Theology. She is the author of
Sacred or Neural? The Potential of Neuroscience to Explain Religious Experiences (Vandenhoeck
& Ruprecht, 2007), which is based on her doctoral thesis for which she received the 2006 ESSSAT
research prize. She published several peer-reviewed articles. Runehov has mainly (but not merely)
been working within the debate of Science and Philosophy of Religion. Her main research interests
has been Neuroscience, Cognitive science and Quantum Mechanics which are studied from a per-
fective of Philosophy of Religion, Philosophy of Mind, Epistemology and Philosophy of Science.
Chapter 4
Time as “Dance”: Theological-Philosophical
Reflections and Meditations
Hubert Meisinger
Abstract What is time? is a question that has been asked several times in history,
from Augustin to physicists nowadays with their ingenious solutions to measuring
time in a so far unknown precision. And it is a question which human beings ask
themselves when turning-points in life arise. This contribution will relate cosmic
time with God’s time, often called eternity, in the context of lived time (“gelebte
Zeit“) and with respect to deceleration as a phenomenon in modern society. In par-
ticular it will evaluate the contribution of Antje Jackelén in her essential book “Time
and Eternity” in order to ask for an understanding of time which allows human
beings to experience time in all its diversity – including escaping from a linear
understanding of time towards a dynamic, “dancing“one and realizing a distinction
between the predictable “Futur“and the unexptected “L‘Avenir“of time with respect
to the French philosopher Jacques Derrida.
Keywords Dance • Eschatology • Eternity • Relationality • (matrix of) time
Introduction
At the end of a decade in life and the beginning of a new one, thoughts often turn
into two opposite ways:
Back into the past: What is remembered, was experienced and has happened in the years
so far.
Forward into the future: What is to come, to expect and will happen in the coming years.
This experienced or to be experienced time shapes our lives. Indeed, we organize

our lives within time, and set our watches accordingly. Still, there exist even more
and different “times.”
H. Meisinger (*)
Zentrum Gesellschaftliche Verantwortung, Albert-Schweitzer-Str. 113-115,
D-55128 Mainz, Germany
e-mail: h.meisinger@zgv.info

46 H. Meisinger
“Cosmic” time is one of them. It is a kind of clock, we can’t set up ourselves. It

is a process human beings belong to imminently: The cosmic and biological evolu-
tion with ongoing transitions and continuous changes in the universe and in life;
however, only in human beings this process has gained awareness and conscious-
ness of itself by way of cultural evolution.
And, there is the time of God, which often is identified with “eternity” – without
specifying exactly what this “eternity” really means: Is it diametrically opposed
towards time? Or is it a quality of our lifetime and thus part of all temporal things?
What Is Time?
Do we have to bow our heads before what Augustine said about time: “What then is
time? I know what it is if no one asks me what it is; but if I want to explain it to
someone who has asked me, I find that I do not know” (Confessions XI:14). Indeed,
there are quite a few more answers to the question, what is time.
The physicist Richard Feynman is quoted as saying the bon mot: “Time is what
happens when nothing happens.” Time thus seems to be what continues to run in a
pause – a pause, which by definition is a temporary interruption of a process. A
pause, which fewer and fewer people take advantage of despite even better judg-
ment and knowledge. A pause to consciously pay attention to the signs of time and
not to succumb to time as an instrument of power.
Karlheinz Geissler (2011), one of the most prominent German researchers on
time, writes in reference to Ecclesiastes in the Old Testament: “Everything has its
time, but I’ve got none.”
The acceleration of time generates awareness of the time span of our life. Do we
therefore strive for an optimization of time, both at work and in private life? To use
time as efficiently as possible? To avoid time being out of joint as William
Shakespeare already noticed in his Hamlet (Act 1, Scene 5) in 1603? Because time
is money? Or because we want to have more time – time for ourselves, our families,
friends, hobbies, and more? The work-life balance is important, thus it seems as if
time is to be saved again and again, in business and in private life.
But can one really save time? The classic children’s book Momo by Michael
Ende (1973) with its time thieves has shown that there are no time saving bank
accounts to which you can add funds and benefit in times of stress.
In addition, a “Debit Card” with the words “time is money”, developed by the
“Association for the Deceleration of Time” in Graz, Austria, does not mean that
bank employees would pay off time instead of money, at best it leads to lively dis-
cussions about time. In the pedestrian area of Graz precisely this association has
hung up a small glass box with a red button. The caption reads: “If you run short of
time, please, press the button and wait until time arrives” …
Let us look at Augustine again. At the end of his research, he comes to the con-
clusion: “For to thee it is given to feel and to measure length of time” (Confessions
XI). Or, in the words of Psalm 31: “My times are in your hands.” It is the time of
4 Time as “Dance”: Theological-Philosophical Reflections and Meditations 47
God that surrounds our life time and qualifies it, in every single moment of our lives,
here and now. Even the void is not “nothing”, in which we could sink or experience
it as gateway for unwanted thoughts, but it can be understood as meaningful, open
and free time which allows to create and gain new opportunities by interrupting the
typical daily schedule of time. Peter Heintel (2014), the founder of the above men-
tioned “Association for the Deceleration of Time”, is right in saying: “A fully-filled
life is not the same as a fulfilled life.”
A fully-filled life is hectic in chasing after the many opportunities that arise at the
same time. A fulfilled life is considerate of your own life rhythms and the rhythms
of life in general. This leads me some experiences with time I made some years ago
visiting a church service in a Baroque Church in Darmstadt-Wixhausen, Germany.
I will relate this directly to Antje Jackelén’s thoughts about time and eternity in
what follows.1
Antje Jackelén on Time and Eternity
It is cold outside, winter has come and snow is falling. I enter a pretty little baroque
church which is crowded with people because the service is being broadcast on
television. I sit down on one of those benches you often find in churches, which are
not too comfortable. I am a bit early, thus you have time to talk with my neighbor.
Suddenly, the conversation is interrupted by a regular and steady tone that I have
never heard in the church but which sounds like the beat of an old clock – tick, tock,
tick, tock, tick, tock. Oh, yes, I remember the sound. It is the sound of the clockwork
of the church, obviously recorded and transmitted into the church. Tick, tock, tick,
tock. Then, the music begins to play – the organ takes up the rhythm of the clock-
work and follows it. A clarinet likewise begins to play, also following the rhythm of
the clockwork. But I do not hear the clock any more, its sound is overridden by the
music. And now the music ceases to follow the rhythm that was set by the clockwork.
It speeds up and slows down. It is loud and quiet. It sounds angry and smooth. It is
thunderstorm and sunshine. It is like dancing and standing. It leaves me far behind
and comes near to me. It strikes you. It is overwhelmingly alive.
Readers also may have experiences that will resonate with what Jackelén devel-
ops in her book on Time and Eternity ([2002] 2005) – resonances concerning her
investigation of hymn-books with respect to time and eternity, her discussion of
time in the Bible and in theology, her approach to the notion of time in the structure
of scientific theories, and finally her careful and deliberate development of aspects
of a theology of time.2
Antje Jackelén, Archbishop of Sweden, former Professor of Systematic
Theology/Science and Religion at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago and
1
Chapter 2 is a revised version of Meisinger 2009.
2
Varadaraja V. Raman is convinced that her work “will become a classic in the literature devoted
to the subject of time.” (2009, 974)
48 H. Meisinger
director of the Zygon Center for Religion and Science, is known as someone who
does not put herself in the foreground but thinks and argues very carefully, thor-
oughly, and to the point.
Jackelén’s investigation is shaped both by the Continental -European dialogue,
especially in Germany, and also the Scandinavian and Anglo-American dialogues.
Thus it bridges gaps between different styles of conducting the dialogue. Cultural
plurality marks her ideas from their outset, since she deals with the notions of time
and eternity in six different hymn-books stemming from Germany (Protestant
Evangelisches Gesangbuch and Catholic Gotteslob), Sweden (Den Svenska
Psalmboken and Psalmer I 90-talet) and the English-speaking world (The Australian
Hymn Book with Catholic Supplement and Sing Alleluia. A Supplement to The
Australian Hymn Book), all published between 1975 and 1995.
Is “Bridging the gap” a valuable metaphor best suited for her approach? To be
honest and to the point, no. Bridging the gap brings to my mind such associations as
building a bridge to drive easily from one side of the bridge to the other one; going
back and forth in the same vehicle and as the same persons, without any necessary
change in character, style or attitude. Someone else constructs the bridge, I only use
it. With these associations in mind, one can hardly say that they conform to
Jackelén’s intentions as expressed in the hermeneutical positioning that she under-
takes. She identifies two hermeneutical precepts and two tasks of theology. The
hermeneutical precepts are a natural longing for the dialogue between science and
theology and the intention for the dialogue partners to encounter each other. The
dialogue is marked by a reciprocal critical relation in the sense of “beneficial ten-
sion” (“eutonia”), not synthesis; its aim is that science and theology live together
practically. Accordingly, the tasks of theology are identified as the critique of reduc-
tionism and advocacy for a broader public to open up a forum which enables intel-
lectual and social contact.
Let me turn to the notion of a reciprocal critical relation, since relationality is
central to her understanding. I compare it with the approach of a Danish theologian,
Viggo Mortensen, who shares the European, Scandinavian and Anglo-American
horizon and also the intention not to build an all-too harmonious synthesis between
science and religion. The metaphors he uses are “friendly reciprocity” (“freund-
schaftliche Wechselwirkung”, Mortensen 1995) or “lively reciprocity or organic
interaction” (“lebendige Wechselwirkung oder organische Interaktion”, Mortensen
1995). He develops this idea using insights of the Danish philosopher Knud E.
Løgstrup who illustrates by means of the classical Christian doctrine of the Two
Natures of Christ what it means theologically to talk about a unifying opposition
fertilizing both sides: Scientific and theological insights or beliefs should neither be
intermingled nor separated from each other. What this approach lacks is a clear
positive statement about the dialogue. Jackelén tries hard, and convincingly, to pro-
vide such positive statements about the relationship throughout her investigation,
using terms like “to complement,” “to irritate,” “to correct” and “to be touched.”
“Beneficial tension” may be the strongest, since she dwells in the semantic field
which is made up by musical metaphors such as dancing – arising rather naturally
because the primary focus of her investigation is the language of time and eternity
in several different hymn-books.
In her detailed phenomenological analysis of the language of time and eternity in
the hymn-books, Jackelén comes to the conclusion that the perspective of eternity is
largely lost in modern hymns whereas it played an essential role in older ones. To
be more precise, whereas in older hymns the lifetime of humans is a kind of prelude
for what really is essential, eternity, in modern hymns the task of eternity is to make
present time worth living. To her mind this reflects the outlook on life and time in
our day, which is characterized by the feeling of not having enough time. Following
Marianne Gronemeyer (1993), Jackelén characterizes contemporary humans as
Homo accelerandus, those who lose time entirely since eternity is functionalized as
a qualification of time and not an opposition to it.
I focus here both on Jackelén’s phenomenological approach and the question of
the Homo accelerandus. She discusses the hymns on a phenomenological level,
investigating the experiences of belief and life that are expressed and worked on in
them. This is a very rich and valuable approach, especially in contrast to a purely
dogmatic investigation of the notion of time which does not at all fall within the
scope of the hymns. Her focus on investigating how experiences of belief and life
are formulated in hymns is part of the advocacy for a broader public, which she has
explicated as one of the two tasks of theology. I understand this as a clear sign of her
aim to elaborate a consistent and competent theology – and, indeed, she demon-
strates considerable theological and hymnal competence. Nevertheless, she could
have given more attention to how hymns not only reflect experiences of time and
eternity, but also influence, shape and create such experiences. People who sing
hymns also learn to evaluate their perception of reality by using the categories they
already find precast in the hymns themselves – be it affirmatively or dismissively.
She reflects concern for this shaping effect of humans in her occasional comments
on whether the theology in some modern hymns is too superficial.3
The Homo accelerandus, her second main point of interest, is a very controver-
sial and disputed description of human beings in our time. Although the experience
of a lack of time is a common one in the societies most readers live in, how to inter-
pret and evaluate this experience is controversial. Jackelén suggests that the feeling
that there never is enough time is due to the withdrawal of eternity in favor of time.
The acceleration of time is accompanied by the loss of rhythms and differences and
a focus on the midst of life instead of the end of life.
Deceleration is a word highly prominent in that context. Coined for example by
Fritz Reheis (2003) and extensively described by Karlheinz A. Geißler (2004), in
the German context deceleration may have different meanings. Reheis pleads for a
real deceleration to avoid growing maniac acceleration and to reach an era of slow-
ness (again?). In contrast, Geißler argues that modernity is characterized by “accel-
eration through growing speed,” whereas it is a sign of postmodernity that the
3
Byrne (2009, 954) is also critical of that issue and even states that hymns “as they become out-
dated and stale, can fail to make any meaningful contact with the lives of the persons who are
asked to sing them.”
50 H. Meisinger
understanding of time is “acceleration through contemporaneity” – or, in other

words, not “need for speed” any more but contemporaneity of different things for
those whom he names “simultants.” Simultants long for the condensation of con-
temporaneity and have already said goodbye to the former “chronometrical mono-
theism” (Geißler 2004). But they also have accepted that contemporaneity is not
necessarily accompanied by progress or the good. Geißler even assumes that simul-
tants, that is, we modern human beings, disconnect against our very own nature and
longings from a better time – that is, from the ideal of living in time wholesomely
and at high speed (Geißler 2004).4
In our context of reflecting about Jackelén’s investigation, these considerations
enable us to reinforce another of her important insights: the notion of newness
which breaks into current time unexpectedly and with great impact. The coming of
Jesus, for example, is portrayed as something new in some hymns. In the dialogue
between science and religion, the Swiss astrophysicist Arnold Benz ([1997] 2000)
points to newness and hope as decisive elements in this dialogue. According to his
investigation, “appearance of newness” can be found both in science and in religion,
but hope and its evocation is something characteristic only for religion. Science
does not communicate hope, but only keeps a space free for it. Benz even formu-
lates a new “I am” saying of Jesus to express his hope, which reads as follows:
“Jesus says: I am the truly new. Whoever trusts in me shares in a meaningful world,
despite decay and death, even when the Sun burns out, the Earth spins off into space
and the universe disintegrates” ([1997] 2000). This saying using modern metaphors
is an interesting blend of descriptions of time as prolegomena for eternity, and eter-
nity as qualifying our current time. Time is not an infinitely short presence any
more, but receives duration, namely the duration of waiting until newness comes.
Newness in the sense of Advent, or that which comes (adventus), not future that is
an extrapolation of the past and present (futurum) is a distinction which is highly
important for Jackelén in developing her theology of time where she stresses the
notion of eschatology.
We turn now to Jackelén’s investigation about the notion of time in the Bible and
in theology. Her starting point is a book by Carl Heinz Ratschow (1954), who cat-
egorizes time as either transitoriness, historical time, or lack of time and opts for a
relational, interactive model for the relationship of time and eternity instead of dual-
istic and antithetical thinking. To Jackelén’s mind this is a suitable starting point for
an interdisciplinary investigation on the notions and relationship of time and
eternity.
As far as the Bible is concerned, she shows that a dualism between cyclic and
linear time is inadequate, as is that between time and eternity. Both pairings should
be related to and distinguished from each other dialectically. Especially important
for the process of her investigation is the dynamic tension between already and not
yet that characterizes the understanding of time in the New Testament and will be
4
Wolfgang Achtner, Stefan Kunz and Thomas Walter ([1998] 2002, 174) reflect about similar
issues under the heading of “a kind of illness of time” – an expression worth thinking about.
the most important characterization of eschatology in her investigation when she

aims at a pluralistic notion of time.
When she deals with theological approaches to time she stresses the notion of
death as both transition and finality. Death is the crisis of relation, since in death
relationship is lost. Because technology tries to dissolve eschatology, according to
Zygmunt Bauman whom she refers to in this context (see Bauman 1992), the per-
spective of eternity gets lost, she believes: “Metaphorically expressed, in a closed
system, time suffocates itself; given the loss of eternity, time dies the death of non-
relationality” (Jackelén, [2002] 2005). Bauman says that protestant pilgrims do not
exist any more but have converted to postmodern people on their way between
places without relations anymore. Jackelén also speaks about contemporaneity, but
not in the sense of Geißler mentioned but in the sense of an equivalence of moments:
Identities do not exist any more, only change or metamorphosis. Now is the moment
of happiness, and there is no longer any hope in death. In contrast, Jackelén devel-
ops theological criteria for a Christian understanding of death in which the notion of
God’s faithfulness and constancy in building consistent relations with humankind,
even in case of death, is central.
In a kind of interim result she reflects on eternity as the other of time – an impor-
tant insight that is developed in relation to Emmanuel Levinas and will appear again
in her investigation. Such an understanding escapes the extremes of both a static
dualism and an encompassing relativism. She also takes a first look at trinitarian
models in theology, which she appreciates as far as their strength is to think in rela-
tional and dynamic terms. An important insight is that an adequate understanding of
time cannot be achieved without taking into account a relation between time and
eternity.
In order to deal with the notion of time in the structure of scientific theories,
Jackelén clarifies her concept of the dialogue between science and theology: It is
less an encompassing synthesis of different systems than an engagement to discuss
specific questions where science and theology deal with the same reality but from
different backgrounds and in different languages. Even though a consensus is not
possible, it is wise for us to carry out dialogue on a range of questions that is inex-
haustible.5 This proposal results from careful and discreet considerations about
Anglo-American and European approaches in the field.
To Jackelén’s mind time turns out to be a highly attractive theme for the dialogue
between theology and science because the scientific understanding of time, with its
interest in relationality, its fuzziness as price for its dynamic, the plurality of notions
of time, and the openness of time, should be able to help improve the outmodled
notion of time in theology. In a first approximation she characterizes time as not
marching but dancing – a metaphor that she has found in several publications on
time and that is very important for her understanding and use of images to explain
5
Hubert Meisinger and Jan C. Schmidt (2006) reflect about different dimensions of an interdisci-
plinary dialogue. Compare Meisinger (2013) on the role of poetry and arts in the interdisciplinary
dialogue. Byrne also stresses the role of literature and poetry in the context of a deep understanding
of time as narrated, as “lived time” (2009, 961).
52 H. Meisinger
the dynamic and complex notions and relatedness of time and eternity. When she
uses the metaphor of dancing she has something very positive, spiritual and active
in mind –even including a kind of messianic character of dancing Schwan points to,
when he writes, following Giorgio Agambens: “By interrupting a continual move-
ment, a potentially different reality shines out which manifests that the here and
now could be and become quite different.” (2014, 27)6 Bearing in mind that dance
did nearly play any role as expression of religious devotion in Christianity until well
into the twentieth century this is a remarkable signal.7
Having discussed time in Newtonian, relativistic and quantum physics, thermo-
dynamics, and chaos theory, Jackelén concludes with a “relationality and multiplic-
ity of time” in physics that has supplanted the strong principle of causality and is
open towards the future.8 The notion of chance also plays an important role, since
its scientific understanding can build up a creative tension to a theology in which
there is a primacy of potentiality over against actuality/reality. With respect to the
question of truth she notes that “nihil veritatis, ubi non relationes” – there is no truth
where there are no relations.
What strikes me is that Jackelén says that theologians may be blamed for their
ignorance of relevant scientific facts, whereas this is not as true for scientists with
respect to theology. This does not accord with her later critique of Davies and Hawking,
whom she reproaches for not taking into account progress in theological perception.
Indeed, to my mind – and here I deviate from her understanding of science – science
has to take into account not only the “facts” it deals with but also the derivation of
those scientific facts and their social and ethical implications. Transgression of bound-
aries, for example the influence of religion on scientific theory-making, is part of sci-
ence and not something outside it, an insight which scientists should become aware.9
This is more than asking for awareness of one’s scientific limits. Nevertheless, I share
her conclusion that scientific theories and theological models do not exist separately
but can enrich each other mutually. Both tell important “stories of the world” (Jackelén
2005, referring to Lash 1988) that can be related to each other by integrating different
types of knowledge10 without losing rationality at all. Science, to her mind, can
become aware of the fact that it suffers from an eschatological deficit.
Jackelén concludes her investigation on Time and Eternity by carefully and delib-
erately developing “aspects of a theology of time” with special reference to relational
thinking oriented towards the future, the doctrine of Trinity, and the notion of escha-
6
My translation of: “Indem eine widerholte Bewegung plötzlich unterbrochen wird, blitzt eine
potenziell andere Realität auf, zeigt sich, dass das Hier und jetzt auch ganz anders sein und ganz
anders werden könnte.” This may help to clarify Byrne’s critique who had liked Jackelén to be
more precise about her understanding of dance: “The metaphor is helpful but essentially empty
until we know what kind of dance we are engaged in” (2009, 955).
7
Schwan (2014), Herrmann-Pfandt (2014) and Schroeter-Wittke (2014) deal with that question
more in detail. Also compare Sidney Carter’s “Lord oft he Dance” from 1963 (Jackelén 2005, 71).
8
On time and eternity in natural sciences compare Albright 2009.
9
Stoeger (2006) reflects on the interaction of his scientific knowledge with his Christian belief.
10
On the question of knowledge and wisdom in science and theology compare Meisinger et al.
2005, 2006.
tology. She favors an eschatological and dynamic model to define the relationship
between time and eternity where both being and becoming have to be similarly artic-
ulated. The notion of dynamism tries to integrate both being and becoming. What she
wants to demonstrate with respect to the incarnation of God in Jesus Christ is con-
vincing: description of relationality in the light of alterity; a dynamical understand-
ing and the possibility of an inclusive interpretation of incarnation.
Very important is her displacement of the dialogue’s center of gravity from sub-
stance to relation: Whereas thinking in substances is aligned to the past as orienta-
tion to what is, relational thinking is aligned to the future as orientation to what is
possible or potential. Applied to theology, this means that we have to get rid of an
absolute, static, theistic notion of God to gain a dynamic and relational notion of
God that gets along more easily with modern scientific insights in physics – not in
a Whiteheadian sense, which could as well inspire her approach, but within a
Trinitarian model. When she discusses these Trinitarian models in theology it is
especially important for her to note the complexity of God instead of the more fre-
quently discussed simplicity. To her mind, however, trinitarian models do not really
do justice to the relation of God, time, and eternity, although they are better than a
one-dimensional understanding of God characteristic for, say, Newton.
Thus Jackelén turns toward eschatology as key for a relational understanding of
time. “Eschatology is the theological place where the most can be said about a rela-
tional theology of time. Eschatology allows reflection upon time as multi-temporality
or a complexity of times – indeed it even demands such reflection” (Jackelén 2005):
What can we hope for? is not speculation about future events, but a spectrum of
existential questions – questions with an appellative character, that influence peo-
ple’s ways of living. She clearly shows that some scientific approaches towards
eschatology, especially in cosmology (Frank Tipler, Freeman Dyson), are far too
simple in their understanding of eschatology; in addition to other criticisms, the ten-
sion between already and not-yet is missing. Furthermore, they aim at an accumula-
tion of information instead of getting rid of the bad, which is a characteristic
component of biblical eschatology. In a kind of summary, her evaluation of scien-
tific approaches is that they are models of hibernation, not models that reflect the
new creation of God. Within eschatology, and reflecting on Georg Picht’s approach
to time, Jackelén stresses the insight, that a suitable understanding of time does have
two centers of gravity, present and future, and thus should aim at openness. Clearly,
philosophical approaches of the twentieth century have stressed the primacy of the
future and Jackelén goes further and distinguishes between a future that is
extrapolation from past and present and an adventive future marked by “coming” –
a distinction that is tenable within a relational understanding of time but meaning-
less in a linear one that takes only scientific insights into account. The French
language may clarify this distinction, because in contrast to English and German it
employs two different words to refer to the future, future and l’avenir. Following
Jacques Derrida, future in the sense of future is a kind of extrapolation from what
exists and can clearly be found in the belief in progress in science and technology.
Future in the sense of l’avenir is a future from ahead (Augustine), a future in which we
can expect the coming of the faithful God. This distinction clearly is a theological
54 H. Meisinger
one which cannot be mirrored in scientific insights.11 Eschatology, she says, places
coming before becoming and thus provokes the futurum by the adventus.
This insight is different from the common one that only distinguishes between
being and becoming reflecting futurum instead of adventus only. Eschatology
bestows – following Paul Ricoeur – Ipseidentity, not Idem-identity, by which he
means that in eschatological perspective our identity is constituted by receiving
oneself from someone else instead of preserving oneself by oneself. It is hope that
does not focus on oneself. Eschatology is communicative and multidimensional in
sustaining identity not by becoming aware of oneself but, in Jackelén’s words, by
relation and by “the receiving of oneself from an Other. This must then always
imply a coming-to-the-Other and a coming-together” (Jackelén 2005). It is a “com-
municative genesis of selfhood” (Jackelén 2005, following Theunissen 1997).
At this point I would like to reflect on a model of time which Jackelén mentions
but does not discuss in detail. It is a matrix of time developed mainly by the mathema-
tician A.M. Klaus Müller, who takes up insights of Georg Picht – as Jackelén also
does (Jackelén 2005), but with different focus. Müller stresses the fact that a linear
understanding of time is in a sense constructed or “prepared,” as a technician makes
a preparation for experimental purposes (präparierte Zeit, Müller 1972). The reduc-
tion of time on a straight line is functional in classical mechanics but does not ade-
quately represent the reality of time, an insight which can easily be shared by Jackelén.
In his next step, Müller differs from Jackelén. He focus not so much on the rela-
tion of modes of time – past, present, future – , but on the crossing over
(Verschränkung) of time modes. We can talk about the past only from the perspec-
tive of the present; we cannot talk about how past times have talked about them-
selves. We can talk about our present time only from the perspective of our present
time. We cannot know how people in the past have thought about their future, which
is our present and our future, because we know the past only through the filter of the
present, not directly. We can talk about the future only from the perspective of our
present; we cannot know how the future will reflect on its present then. Thus, there
exist nine different crossings of past (Pa), present (Pr) and future (Fu)12:
FuPa – FuPr – FuFu

| | |
PrPa – PrPr – PrFu
| | |
PaPa – PaPr – PaFu
11
Reinhold Esterbauer (1996) stresses the fact even more that there does not exist one understand-
ing of time in science, philosophy, and theology.
12
Müller even goes one step further and thinks about a what he calls “Zeitspiel” (”time game”): an
iteration of the dual modes of time on themselves, which would make up a three-dimensional time
cube: PaPrPa, PrPrPa, FuPrPa and so on (1987, 210–212). I like to call that “Rubik’s Cube” model
of time.
Gerhard Liedke has tried to interpret that matrix theologically (Liedke 1978, fol-
lowing Achtner, Kunz and Walter [1998] 2002): Whereas the horizontal line PrPa –
PrPr – PrFu are the modes of what can be objectivized and thus are the sphere of
sciences, the vertical line FuPr – PrPr – PaPr reflects the field of arts and mythos. He
assumes that the four points in the corner – PaPa, PaFu, FuFu, and FuPa – shed light
on time from the standpoint of belief: times that do not entail the present, except
indirectly. It is time that is not at our disposal.
Because Jackelén does not stress the past much but rather focuses on the future,
let me relate FuFu, PrFu and PaFu to what she has developed: Future can be corre-
lated with PrFu. It is scientific progress, also successful in technology. PaFu can be
related, in her argumentation, also to science, namely chaos theory, which reflects
about the coming of what cannot be foreseen on the basis of the past (Jackelén
[2002] 2005). In that respect she differs from the Liedke’s interpretation. FuFu mir-
rors the advent, the “truly new” (Benz [1997] 2000), the advent of the faithful God.
However, in a sharp distinction from the interpretation of Achtner, Kunz and Walter,
Jackelén also stresses a dynamic model of God in which God cannot really be
“everything in everything”, but relates to everything, always anew. This fascinating
theological insight of her investigation could be developed even more by taking the
matrix above into account and reflecting on how exactly the time of God is part of
that relational matrix of time.
Time – and this is Jackelén’s conclusion – is no abstraction but is “lived time”,
dynamic and relational. Time is time of life with all its connections. Thus there can-
not exist a closed, for-all-time existing theology of time, but only a thought model
that leaves room for openness. God is not deterministic but has long ago left the
house of Newton – or has never been in it, a fact, Jackelén complains, still not real-
ized by many theologians to this day. And I dare to say not by many scientists as
well. Yet more and more theologians have begun to realize that we can no longer
knock at Newton’s door to say hello to God. To use one of Jackelén’s central meta-
phors, we should invite God to dance and follow the rhythm of God’s music, as I
followed the rhythm of the organ and the clarinet in the service described above.
I conclude by again relating to music. An important feature of music is that it can
be played again and again, in many variations, in different styles and with different
instruments. A single piece, though it may have reached a clear ending, still bears
the character of a fragment. Jackelén finishes her investigation with a quote from of
Augustine, Confessions IV, 8,13: “The times are not empty, nor do they roll idly
through our senses: They work remarkable things in the mind.” I close my reflec-
tions with the following citation which could be seen as a complement to her
Augustinian one: “Writing about time results in a fragment. About time nothing
ultimate exists, nothing complete and nothing exhaustive. ‘Hold the line! [Stay
tuned!]’” (Geißler 2005)13 Christians can “hold the line” because of God’s adventus
which has already taken place, takes place ever anew in life and will take place in the
times to come – of which I wish Antje Jackelén many more than only a handful.
13
“Alles Schreiben über Zeit endet im Fragment. Zur Zeit gibt es nichts Endgültiges, nichts
Abgeschlossenes und nichts Vollständiges. BLEIBEN SIE DRAN!” (my translation).
56 H. Meisinger
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ekhn.de/glaube/glaube-leben/meditation/slowtime/entschleunigung-advent.html
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Kommentare zu Religion und Gesellschaft 15: 29–31.
Jackelén, Antje. [2002] 2005. Time and Eternity: The Question of Time in Church, Science, and
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Science, theology and cultural dynamics, Studies in science and theology (SSTh), vol. 4. Lund:
Lund University Press.
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Zielsetzungen. Stuttgart: Radius.
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im Horizont der offenen Zeit. Stuttgart: Radius.
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& Science 44: 965–975.
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Hubert Meisinger studied Protestant Theology at the Ruprecht-Karls-University in Heidelberg/

Germany and at the Zygon Center for Religion and Science in Chicago/USA. His research stays
also led him to Berkeley/USA and Oxford/UK. His interdisciplinary doctoral thesis focused on the
love command in the New Testament and research on altruism in sociobiology. Hubert received the
first ESSSAT Prize for Studies in Science and Religion in 1996 awarded by the European Society
for the Study of Science and Theology and has also received grants from the Metanexus Institute
in Philadelphia/USA. Currently he works as minister for environmental affairs at the Center Social
Responsibility of the Protestant Church in Hesse and Nassau, Germany, and as director of studies
for science and technology at the Protestant Academy Frankfurt. He belongs to the council of
ESSSAT and is founding member of the International Society for Science and Religion (ISSR).
More info: www.zgv.info
Chapter 5
Time – A Dimension of Ethics
Ulf Görman
Abstract Our ethically informed choice of action is situated in time. However, the
question of time is seldom explicitly addressed in publications on ethics. This essay
is a tentative comment as a contribution to fill that gap.
NOW has a central position in our choice of action. It is our first step into the
FUTURE. This cannot be only a timeless investigation. Our ethical reflection may
also involve a vision of the future we want, a tool to assist our decisions. The discus-
sion in ethical theory as well as in applied ethics is often of a general and abstract
character. I suggest that we should see such abstractions as tools in an ethical tool-
box, rather than timeless or objective justifications. Autonomy in reasons and actions
demands self-authorized coherence over time, but also openness to slow changes.
Keywords Action • Applied ethics • Autonomy • Consequences • Dilemma •

Ethical theory • Ethics • Time • Timelessness • Vision
In her book Zeit und Ewigkeit, Antje Jackelén discusses the question of time in
science and theology. Her approach has inspired me to reflect on the corresponding
importance of time in my own field of research, ethics. What importance can the
understanding of time have on decision-making in ethics? Ethics is the reflection of
the normative aspects of human relations. These include questions such as: How do
I best take care of others? What is the right thing to do in a situation of conflict?
How can I find guidance on how to responsibly lead my life? It is evident that our
decisions on questions like these are situated in time. However, the question of time
is seldom explicitly addressed in publications on ethics. This essay is a tentative
comment as a contribution to fill that gap.
My impression is that the reason for the little attention to time in ethical analysis
is related to the strong focus on ethical theory in ethics. This attention has been
U. Görman (*)
Centre for Theology and Religious Studies, Lund University, Lund, Sweden
Religious Studies, Jönköping University, Jönköping, Sweden
e-mail: ulf.gorman@teol.lu.se

60 U. Görman
directed towards finding principles and rules for ethical decision-making that can be
generally applicable. An ethical theory has often been considered better, the more
general it is in its kind. In order to discuss this question, it seems appropriate to offer
an illustrative example.
I take my starting point from the arguments in the book The Possibility of
Altruism, by philosopher Thomas Nagel, who explicitly discusses the relevance of
time for prudential and ethical decision-making.1 Nagel argues for the timelessness
of such decision-making. “The condition of timelessness … is an aspect of the con-
dition of generality which characterizes all reasons” (1970). This is a claim that I
want to contend in this essay.
Nagel on Time and Timelessness in Practical Argumentation
In order to understand Nagel’s arguments on time and timelessness we must first

have an idea of his basic ideas. He starts with a distinction between prudential rea-
soning, i.e. arguments on how to further one’s own interest, and altruistic reasoning,
i.e. how to care for another person. By “altruism” we often mean a kind of far-
reaching care for others, implying for instance that we give everyone else the first
place in our life. For Nagel the concept of altruism is much more general. Prudence
is how to properly care for yourself. Altruism is simply the parallel care for others
in a wide sense.
Basically he thinks these two types of reasoning, the case of prudential as well as
altruistic reasoning and decisions, are structurally similar. In both cases the argu-
ments must be based upon rational reasons as well as taking the relevant interests
into account. This combination of rational conditions and desire is what he calls a
motivational backing of a normative requirement. In altruistic reasoning, it concerns
how to take care of others.
According to Nagel, prudence needs to be rational, not only emotional. In the
same way, altruism needs to be rational. As I understand him, this means that ethics
is an analysis of the rationality of altruism.
What relation does then prudential and altruistic decision-making have to time?
Nagel argues that in the case of prudence as well as in the case of altruism, timeless-
ness has precedence. Some arguments and standpoints may be expressed by taking
time into account. However, these arguments must be possible to describe in a time-
less form.
1
Thomas Nagel, The Possibility of Altrism, Clarendon Press, Oxford 1970. This book was based
upon Nagel’s PhD Thesis. Nagel’s supervisor during his PhD studies was John Rawls. Nagel has
later made substantial contributions to many fields of philosophy and ethics. The reason that I
found it of relevance to make a second reading of his book on altruism and use this as a counter-
point to my own arguments in this essay was mainly that I found its arguments and standpoint
characteristic for much ethical thinking, not only around 1970, but for long time in wide circles.
5 Time – A Dimension of Ethics 61
Having said this, a question that he evidently needs to address is under which
conditions we have reason to promote a future end. In short, his answer is that we
have such a reason “if it is tenselessly true that at the time of that event, a reason-
predicate applies to it.” (Nagel 1970) He explains: “[T]his principle has the conse-
quence that one has a present reason to promote it simply because there will be a
reason for it to happen when it happens, and not because of any further condition
which obtains now. It is not necessary that the relevant predicate apply to the end at
the time of action.” (Nagel 1970).
In developing this idea he refers to his “metaphysics of the person”, involving
among else the awareness that one persists over time. A person is “equally real at all
stages of his life; specifically, the fact that a particular stage is present cannot be
regarded as conferring on it any special status. This is a truism, for every stage of
one’s life is present sooner or later; so all times are on an equal footing in that
regard” (Nagel 1970). “The present is just a time among others, and confers no
special status on the circumstances which occupy it” (Nagel 1970).
The Travel to Italy
To indicate the failure of the acceptance only of dated reasons, Nagel presents this
illustrative example:
Suppose I shall be in Rome six weeks from now; then in six weeks, I shall have reason to
speak Italian. If I regard this only as a dated reason, then, even granted my present igno-
rance of the language, I cannot conclude that I now have reason to enrol in an Italian course,
since my reason for speaking Italian will not come into existence for six more weeks. I am
forced instead to wait for its arrival, fatalistically, as for the onset of the effects of a drug—
wait for it to galvanize me into action. Suppose that, true to my rational principles, I allow
the six weeks to go without learning Italian. Having managed somehow to board the plane
… I contemplate the reason’s approach with detached curiosity while crossing the Atlantic.
The plane lands; I descend the gangway, collect my luggage, hail a cab, and suddenly it is
upon me: I cannot tell the driver where I want to go. Presumably I shall be frustrated and
vexed; I shall gesture, try to improvise, perhaps excuse myself briefly to purchase a phrase
book at the airport newsstand. (1970)
In my understanding, this example gives an extremely simplified picture of the

situation and the alternatives for action. It gives an extremely simplified picture of
the traveller’s desires and preferences. And it reduces a complex situation to a sim-
ple abstract choice designed to fit a predefined theory of decision and action.
As I understand Nagel’s argument, he contends that a dated reason does not take
the future into account at all, while a reason that does take the future into account
needs to be timeless. I think this is where he goes astray. Instead, in my understand-
ing, we cannot foresee the future with certainty. What we can do is to imagine
certain aspects of the future that interest us. But this imagination is relative to our
interests and details of our knowledge, it is relative to our planning and the certainty
that we are able to carry out this planning, and relative to our final interest and
decision to do so. So, like our memory of the past, our picture of the future is some-
62 U. Görman
thing that exists now. And it is now we do make and must make our decisions.
Consequently, our decisions are not basically timeless, but basically relative to the
moment when we make the decision.
In real life, are the described alternatives the only choices at hand? Will it be pos-
sible to buy a phrase book in advance? Will it be possible to postpone the journey?
Will it be possible to travel together with someone with adequate language skills?
Will it be possible to adjust the journey so that you can manage with English? Is it
possible to arrange to bring some pieces of paper with the address you want to go
to? To learn Italian if you are not earlier acquainted with the language is a fairly
complex task that can probably not be managed in a short time. Do you really have
that time? Perhaps it may be possible if you take six weeks leave from your job to
achieve that skill. The effort of learning the language must be evaluated in relation
to other aims, related and not related to the journey itself. This specific journey must
also be evaluated in relation to other options (another destination, postpone the
travel, do something quite different). Perhaps you need to do this journey in relation
to your work. Will it then be possible that your employer offers you some assistance
to manage the situation without you having to take a language course, such as
arranging for a local assistant with appropriate skills in Italian as well as in English?
I will come back to the framework for these questions in a moment.
From Prudence to Ethics
Nagel’s arguments so far, as well as his example on how to prepare for a travel to
Italy, do not seem to have much to do with ethics. Why bring this up at all?
The answer is that he thinks there is a parallel, but also a difference, between
prudence and altruism. In prudence, the acceptance of a justification for doing or
wanting something must be present. This acceptance of a justification, he argues,
must be present also in impersonal practical judgments. And this is exactly what
must also characterize an ethical (or as he labels it, altruistic) argument. Ethics must
be justified by an impersonal and objective judgment (Nagel 1970). “All of the con-
ditions which provide the reason, and all of the principles which govern the opera-
tion of those conditions, can be specified impersonally” (Nagel 1970). As a
justification needs to be tenseless in the case of prudence, I understand his view as
implying that the same applies to the objective, impersonal, justification in ethics.
The only moral dilemma that Nagel describes is this: “[V]arious factors may com-
plicate the result when there is a conflict between reasons to help others and reasons
to help oneself. But even if we allow for these possibilities, the acknowledgement
of prima facie reasons to help others is a significant result. It means at least this: that
when one can secure or promote such an end for someone else, and either (a) there
are no conflicting reasons, or (b) all other considerations balance out, then one has
sufficient reason to act. The reason is simply that one’s act will promote the other’s
survival, eliminate his suffering, or what have you. It depends on no desire or inter-
est of the agent—only on the objectivity of certain reasons which he acknowledges

subjectively” (Nagel 1970).
The situation described in this example is a genuine ethical dilemma, although
very abstractly depicted. The problem as I see it is that reality is much more mani-
fold and complex. More or less every day international mass media informs us
about poverty, suffering and death. We know that people far away and not so far
away live under dreadful conditions and fall victims of deplorable accidents. We
also know that the demand for help is urgent. We also know that most of us have
near and close relations to others, relations that involve an interpersonal dependence
and specific needs. We also know that everyone in a modern society is expected to
take care for his or her own future needs and risks.
When it comes to time, we also know that we cannot simply calculate what will
happen. We may be able to fairly well estimate the immediate or near future, but
happy as well as hard experiences also tell us that it is difficult to foresee the future,
and this is often impossible in a longer perspective.
Ethically Informed Choice of Action
How should we then describe an ethically informed choice of action? In my view,

we need first to be clear that our choice of action is always related to a specific situ-
ation. And when we believe that the way we choose to act may need to be ethically
informed, we have already identified the situation as being of a kind that calls for a
moment of reflection.
We will need an overview of the situation. We may need to identify the most
important aspects that may be of relevance for our choice. We need to take a look
back to our earlier experiences from similar situations in the past. We may try to find
guidance by looking at general questions, like these: What will the consequences of
my choice be? Will they be good or bad? Will they involve risks? Which responsi-
bilities do I have? What would I have wanted others to do to me in a similar situa-
tion? Which action would fit with the kind of person I want to be? How can I balance
conflicting values or interests? We will need some time for reflection, often much
shorter than we would have liked to. And finally, we must take action, in order to
handle the situation.
This means, among else, that we cannot just learn ethical theory and expect this
knowledge to contain an encyclopaedia where we can easily find the answers to
questions raised in specific complex situations. We will need to evaluate the rele-
vance of these thoughts, before we finally integrate a selection of them when mak-
ing a decision.
This also means that a decision is something we make NOW. It will involve tak-
ing action in some way or other. The decision may be to wait and see, but that is also
a decision. We may give our decision a moment of reflection, but that is also a spe-
cific and often relevant action.
64 U. Görman
How, then, does time come in here? As already indicated, the specific situation
NOW has a central position in our choice of action. But this choice is directly ori-
ented towards the FUTURE. It is our first step into the future, and it is our small
contribution to the creation of the future.
It also contains a reflection on the future. Among else, we need to take the con-
sequences of our actions into account when we act, and in most cases we also do.
The consequences we foresee are some of the aspects that need to be evaluated.
However, in most cases this evaluation contains an amount of uncertainty. Perhaps
it is possible to foresee the immediate consequences of our action, but the long-term
effects are much more difficult to foresee.
This evaluation of consequences cannot be only a timeless investigation of a
future stage of one’s life, as Nagel imagines it. The future is more or less hidden in
an opaque haze, and only partly discernible to us now. Also, it may be true that what
will happen will in fact happen, but this does not mean that we have any good reason
to know this future. Chaos theory has taught us that causality is an extremely com-
plicated network of tiny factors, where it is impossible for an observer, at least for
an observer with limited knowledge, to foresee the future with certainty. Also, our
reflections, decisions and actions are parts of this infinite pattern of events.
The importance of the FUTURE for our decision NOW is then that we already
have a conception of how the future will be, or in our reflection we form a concep-
tion of how the future may be. Either of these understandings will influence how we
evaluate the situation and how we choose the immediate future for ourselves and for
others near us. So, it is not the future as it actually will be that can influence our
decisions. Instead our conception now of the future should and will influence the
actions we take.
The Future as a Vision
This unique position of our NOW may be considered to have ethical relevance.
NOW does not only constitute a number of troubles and conflicts. It is the place
where we live and where we have all our experiences. It is our opportunity, and it
may also constitute a responsibility. Our ethical reflection may not only involve a
conception of how the future will develop, but also a vision of what kind of future
we want. If or when we shape such a vision it may be a forceful tool to assist our
decisions.
The Limited Usefulness of General Ethical Reflection
The construction of an ethical theory is often considered to be the main task of eth-
ics. An ethical theory aims at presenting a theoretical and conceptual framework for
ethical thinking. Often but not always it contains an overall picture of the human
being and the human situation, sometimes also a worldview that aims at explaining
or at least offering a framework for understanding the moral dimension of the
human situation. A part of this framework is sometimes labelled “metaphysics”. In
general an ethical theory contains a statement of what characterizes the moral
dimension of human life, and a statement on its important properties. In general
ethical theories aim at identifying typical questions or dilemmas that need an ethical
analysis, as well as a framework for understanding these and to suggest general
guidelines for their solutions.
Applied ethics is a frequently used label for the analysis of particular issues of
moral relevance. A number of specific fields tend to be considered to be branches of
applied ethics, such as social ethics, business ethics and bioethics. Reflection on
specific issues concerning for instance gender, war, poverty, abortion, and euthana-
sia, are also commonly considered to be examples of applied ethics.
Common to most reflection in applied ethics is a reference to ethical theory,
arguments from which are used to arrive at conclusions on how to take a morally
tenable standpoint concerning the issue at stake. However, much discussion of
dilemmas or other issues in applied ethics start from examples, constructed or real,
but then in most cases described in summary. The discussion in applied ethics is
often of a general and abstract character, which makes the arguments and their con-
clusions less practical than what many expect.
It should be evident from my presentation of NOW as the central point for ethi-
cal decision, that such abstracts may be of more limited use than many of their
inventors may believe. It is often not easy to use the abstract and general ideas in
the solution of actual ethical dilemmas in a specific situation. I suggest that we
should see such abstractions as tools in an ethical toolbox. Such tools may be help-
ful to solve actual moral dilemmas or other problems, but we should avoid letting
the tools take over the situation. Each tool does not fit every problem or situation,
and they may be of varying relevance in different situations. In our final judgment
of a problem we need to get an overview of the situation, choose to focus on the
relevant issues, try the ethics tools we have at hand and try to make a balanced
decision.
Instead the major importance of such abstract thinking is twofold. By further
developing ethical theory we may be able to delve into time-consuming thoughts
about new ethical dilemmas as well as new aspects of old ones. And by offering an
arsenal of thoughts on the complex world of our normative relations, it will make us
more aware of the amount of considerations to take into account.
Will We Be the Same Persons in the Future?
NOW is only ostensibly a steady point in the constant flow of time and events.
NOW is where we stand, but it is a moving platform. And the normative decisions
we make NOW must be based upon experiences from the PAST as well as our con-
ceptions of the FUTURE. The PAST contains the sum of all experiences, on
66 U. Görman
individual as well as collective level. Such experiences have initiated normative

standpoints. They have also led to adjustments of such standpoints based upon suc-
cess and failure connected to earlier actions, ours as well as others’ that we learn
about. These experiences continue to heap up, and as a consequence of this, also the
PAST is a changing object.
This picture seems to challenge the idea of normativity as stable. We simply can-
not now be the judges of our future preferences. How can we then claim to uphold
such values as moral integration and autonomy, a coherent personality, foreseeabil-
ity and trustworthiness?
In our NOW we frequently meet with ethically relevant situations, many of them
complex and demanding. Surely we will strive at being consistent and well reflected
in the choices we make. How can we be trustworthy in the eyes of others if they can-
not see us as coherent persons, whose judgments one can respect and often
foresee?
This is the specific theme for the writings of Laura Waddell Ekstrom.2 She sug-
gests the ideal of personal integration or autonomy as a matter of coherence.
Personal integration needs to be based upon long-lasting, fully defensible features
that one is comfortable owning. This opens for stability as well as reformation of
our moral convictions in a world of constant change.
According to Ekstrom, coherence and autonomy are synonymous descriptions of
a personality. It involves, among else, the capacity to reflect on one’s desires and
beliefs. It involves a self-authorized preference of reasons and actions. Such a per-
sonal property is nothing that comes out momentarily. Instead it involves among
else a learning process and coherence over time. At the same time autonomy must
be open to development and other changes over time, although characterized by
inertness.3
References
Ekstrom, Laura Waddell. 1993. A coherence theory of autonomy. Philosophy and Phenomenological
Research 53(3): 599–616.
Ekstrom, Laura Waddell. 2005. Alienation, autonomy and the self. Midwest Studies in Philosophy
XXIX: 45–67.
Nagel, Thomas. 1970. The possibility of altrism. Oxford: Clarendon.
Nordström, Karin. 2009. Autonomie und Erziehung. Eine ethische Studie. Freiburg/München:
Verlag Karl Alber.
2
Ekstrom, Laura Waddell (1993) A Coherence Theory of Autonomy. Philosophy and
Phenomenological Research. Vol. 53, No 3, (599–616). Ekstrom, Laura Waddell (2005) Alienation,
Autonomy and the Self. Midwest Studies in Philosophy XXIX (45–67).
3
Karin Nordström aptly labels this “langsame Autonomie”. Nordström, Karin, Autonomie und
Erziehung. Eine ethische Studie. Verlag Karl Alber, Freiburg/München 2009 (334–336).
Ulf Görman is emeritus professor of Ethics. Recently he worked at Jönköping University, and
earlier at Lund University, where he was head of the unit of Ethics. He is scientific secretary of the
Regional Ethical Review Board in Lund, Sweden. He was president of the European Society for
the study of Science and Theology (ESSSAT) 1996–2002, and earlier secretary of Societas Ethica,
Europäische Forschungsgesellschaft für Ethik. His research includes bioethical questions, among
else with relation to personalized nutrition, DNA-based information and intervention, brain-
machine interfaces, and ethical questions in the interface between the natural sciences and views
of life.
Part II
Exploring the Messy Middle
Chapter 6
Places of Encounter with the Eschata:
Accelerating the Spatial Turn in Eschatology
Sigurd Bergmann
Abstract Questions of eschatology have become more and more relevant in times
of increasing threats to survival, in science as well as in popular culture, in world
politics as well as in religions.
This chapter explores if the much-debated “spatial turn” also can take place in
eschatology. Could theologians assist in reconciling space and time, which in the
Western history of science and culture have been commoditized, restricted and, in
many modes, violently and fatally separated from each other?
I discuss two theologians who have plowed the way for such a spatial turn espe-
cially in eschatology, Vitor Westhelle and Jürgen Moltmann, and finally draw on my
own reflections on Heimat where time turns into space. The intention within the
chapter is to encourage theologians to accelerate the spatial turn in theology and to
mine deeper the spatiality of eschatology to come, where Raum and time are inte-
grated at depth for the best of our common earth and future.
Keywords Eschatology • Space/place • Home • Spirit
Questions of eschatology including the apocalyptic seem to have become more and
more relevant in times of increasing threats to survival, in science as well as in
popular culture, in world politics as well as in religions. Albert Einstein’s fruitful
ending of the Newtonian split of space and time in his integration of both in space-
time theory, Stephen Spielberg’s groundbreaking movie “Back to the Future”
(1985), and climate apocalypses in the fiction film “The Day after Tomorrow”
(2004) are just few of many indicators for an ongoing change of our imagination of
time. Furthermore strong reasons seem to appear to accelerate visions about “our
common future,” as the UN Brundlandt process so strikingly entitled it in 1992, and
I would here like to widen its time dimension with the spatial and reformulate our
S. Bergmann (*)
Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies, Norwegian University
of Science and Technology, Trondheim, Norway
e-mail: sigurd.bergmann@ntnu.no

72 S. Bergmann
common earth and future. No doubt that faith communities of all religions in general
and Christian contextual theology in particular are called to partake in, contribute to
and fertilize this urgent need to imagine threats to the survival as well as paths
towards our common earth and its future. What might the role of Christian eschatol-
ogy be herein?
If one approaches eschatology only under the conditions of time, and especially
within a modernistic reductionist understanding of time, it will lose its rich com-
plexity and plasticity. Imagining eschatology simply as a dialectic of time and eter-
nity and mirroring the process of approaching the future along one straight line that
progresses only forward threatens to narrow our understanding of eschatology in a
fatal way.
Antje Jackelén has constantly been aware about this risk of a narrow and stereo-
typed understanding of time, including the future, and tried to resist and overcome
it from within by suggesting to anchor eschatology in what she has called “a rela-
tional understanding of time” (Jackelén 2005: 224). While Antje, in the scholarly
part of her life, steadily and safely has emphasized time in a manifold of scientific,
theological and also hymnologic modes of expression, the last decade of my own
academic work has been dedicated to our images of Raum (space/place) and its
significance for religion, theology and the environment. What could be more thrill-
ing in a Festschrift like this to continue the process of weaving together Raum and
time, and explore if the much-debated “spatial turn” also can take place in eschatol-
ogy, and what this might mean (Bergmann 2007). Could theologians assist in recon-
ciling space and time, which in the Western history of science and culture have been
commoditized, restricted and, in many modes, violently and fatally separated from
each other?1
In the following I will discuss two theologians who have plowed the way for
such a spatial turn especially in eschatology: Vitor Westhelle and Jürgen Moltmann,
and finally draw on my own reflections on Heimat where time turns into space.2 My
intention is, no more no less, to encourage theologians to accelerate the spatial turn
in theology and to mine deeper the spatiality of eschatology to come, where Raum
and time are integrated at depth for the best of our common earth and future.
Transferred to the godtalk of contextualized classic Trinitarian pneumatology, one
can summarize my intention in one single challenge to the central agenda of
systematic (and pastoral) theology: Where and how is the Spirit taking place in the
eschaton of Creation?
1
Among outstanding thinkers who have resisted and overcome this split should be mentioned Max
Jammer, Das Problem des Raumes: Die Entwicklung der Raumtheorien, mit einem Vorwort von
Albert Einstein, Darmstadt: WBG 1960, (Concepts of Space, Cambridge Mass.: Harvard
University Press 1953), and Yi-Fu Tuan, Topophilia: A study of environmental perception, atti-
tudes, and values, Englewood Cliffs NJ: Prentice-Hall 1974.
2
In the context of an ongoing process writing a book with Nordic scholars in contextual theology
on Eschatology in-between hope and despair, forthcoming 2016, and my chapter “Time Turned
into Space – at Home on Earth: Wanderings in Eschatological Spatiality.”
6 Places of Encounter with the Eschata: Accelerating the Spatial Turn in Eschatology 73
Experiencing the Places of the “Last Events” (Eschata)
In his calamitous book “Die verlorene Dimension” (The lost dimension) Paul Tillich
contrasted space and time in a fatal way where space belongs to pagan thinking
while time is at the center of Christian theology (Tillich 1962). Favorably one might
regard his aversion to space in the context of having expelled by Nazist Blut-and-
Boden ideologies based on a brutal violation of ideas about place and home.
Nevertheless, it is wise to take Tillich’s reflections, shared with many others of his
time, with a pinch of salt. The idea of some kind of a contrast or even superiority of
the one and the other, space and time, are still alive doing much harm. Neither sci-
ence nor philosophy allow, as Georg Picht inescapably has shown, to even depart
from an alleged homogeneity and uniformness of space and time (Picht 1979).
Space cannot be reduced to a simple function of time; rather time is embedded in
the spatiality of the universe and planet.
In an apt criticism of Tillich’s rejection of the spatial as a central eschatological
dimension, Vitor Westhelle has presented an extensive argument for the reconstruc-
tion of the lost dimension of space in eschatology. From the position of those who
lack both power and place, spatiality appears as the most valuable tool to experience
and interpret the presence of ongoing liberation that is still unseen. In his detailed
critical examination of modern concepts of eschatology, Westhelle develops spatial
thinking as the central dimension of eschatology beyond its dominance of historical
and historicist thinking. Among many inspirators, he uses Michel de Certeau’s dis-
tinction between “strategy” and “tactics” where the former describes the “maneu-
vering technique to conquer the place of the other,” while the latter, tactic, works in
the space of the other, taking place as the art of the weak. In the former we possess
space, in the latter we are determined by the spaces that inhabit us as dispossessed
(Westhelle 2012).3 Reductionist time-centered eschatologies are hereby represent-
ing strategies to conquer, expand and administrate space. They are mastering and
taming eschatology. Also the much-celebrated formula of the tension between the
already-and-not-yet belongs to such a problematic frame as it applies a linear con-
cept of time and continues one-eyedly the tradition from Augustine where eschatol-
ogy is located in the pilgrimage of the church towards a goal beyond the present.
In contrast, Westhelle suggests “latitudinal thinking” (2012) and a “choratic”
eschatology where the understanding of “choratic realms” makes it possible for
those who have no much room to negotiate space to experience the eschaton (2012).
Those who are suffering at non-places and have no history can now encounter the
eschata.
3
For a discussion of eschatology’s regard of otherness in religious traditions and a comparison of
Christian, Jewish and Muslim eschatologies see Wirén, 76 ff. Jakob Wirén, Hope and Otherness:
Christian Eschatology in an Interreligious Context, Lund: Lund University 2013. For an intriguing
discussion of eschatology in the context of environmentalism and climate change see Stefan
Skrimshire, Future Ethics: Climate Change and Apocalyptic Imagination, New York and London:
Bloomsbury 2010.
74 S. Bergmann
Reconstructing the fullness of the significance of biblical notions, Westhelle

further makes us aware of the originally spatial semantics of the eschaton that
depicted limits and borders rather than circumscribed futurological goals. Even if
Westhelle does not explicitly disclose his own experiences with the landless peas-
ants to whom he refers in his introduction, his spatial approach to eschatology rep-
resents a significant and highly relevant contribution not only to contemporary
liberation and contextual theology but also to the deepening of the eschatological
agenda for theology in general.
In our context, I would like to emphasize the significance of a spatial eschatol-
ogy, as sketched by Westhelle, (a) as an efficient bulwark against reductionist con-
cepts of time as well as against concepts that are homogenifying both in order to
claim a superiority of time over space, and (b) its liberative capacity to make it
possible for those who do not have much room to negotiate space to experience the
eschaton. Encounters with the coming of God need places within what I have called
an all-embracing space (Bergmann 2006). In an unjust and unsustainable world it is
therefore necessary to develop one’s “ditch perspective,” as Antje once called it, that
is, the lens from the underside of place and history.4 The eschaton takes place where
the life giving Spirit acts, in, with, within and for the creation.
God as the Wohnraum (Living Space) of the World
Outstanding among the systematic theologians of the twentieth century, who explic-
itly and creatively have developed eschatology, and also space, in Christian faith is
Jürgen Moltmann. His theology developed in the 1970s with a strong focus on
time – particularly on the eschatology of hope – which furthermore was widened
and deepened to the theology of God’s reign as a reality manifest in social and eco-
logical dimensions. Of specific interest in our context is Moltmann’s work on
themes such as “the space of creation” and “the living spaces of God” which emerge,
in my view, as a necessary growth out of the midst of his central reflections on hope,
the Crucified God and God’s reign. As he describes it himself, the same ecological
driving force of his theology, which takes him (and others) into the challenges of
time and hope, leads him to the question of space and place, e.g. to the question of
how God dwells in space and time (Moltmann 2002).
4
In her preaching (on the Good Samaritan in Luke 10: 25–37) at the annual opening ceremony for
the Swedish Parliament’s working year in 2014 archbishop Antje Jackelén coined the Swedish
term “dikesperspektivet” (perspective from the roadside ditch) in order to encourage politicians
to revert their perspective and regard themselves as low-lying in the ditch with a strong need for
others. “Med den frågan får Jesus oss att se livet och makten ur dikesperspektivet. Det är inte de
andra som är i diket utan du och jag. Det är inte vi som är världens barmhärtige samarier utan
också vi är i behov av den andre, den främmande, den ratade för att bli sant mänskliga.” http://
www.svenskatal.se/20140930-antje-Jackelén-predikan-vid-riksmotets-oppnande-2014/ accessed
6 March 2015.
The central question for Moltmann in his comprehensive work is a double one:
How God can be regarded as the living space (Wohnraum) of creation and how can
the creation be regarded as a living space for God? According to Moltmann these
two questions should never be separated but interpreted as a double central dimen-
sion of theology in general. In 1985 his “ecological doctrine of creation” contains
an explicit section about “the space of creation” where he departs from the observa-
tion that while meditations on time in theology since Augustine have been many,
meditations on space are rare. Moltmann circumscribes the religious understanding
of space as a nonhomogeneous one, where spaces are spaces lived in, where sacred
space always is enclosed and where the center of the world is represented by the
temple. He summarizes his reflections in what he calls the ecological concept of
space, in which space is characterized by what happens within it.
Moltmann’s theological concept of space is opposed to the concept of a unified
homogenous space as well as to the understanding of space as an empty container
for objects, as Plato has presented it. Rightly, he observes that the ontological under-
standing of space and the geometrical and topological understanding of place
already fall apart in Greek philosophy. Ecological thinking, however, regards space
primarily as a space of life, as for instance shown in Psalm 24 about the great cos-
mic spaces of air, earth, and sea, which are perceived from what God does in them
and what lives there. In the frame of this ecological concept, Moltmann theologi-
cally develops his double perspective about the relation of God and space: on the
one hand, God is the eternal dwelling place of his creation; on the other hand, God
the Spirit dwells in creation preparing it to be the place of glorification.
According to Moltmann, the created world does not exist in the absolute space of
divine being, but “it exists in the ceded space of God’s world presence” (Moltmann
1985). Finally, Moltmann distinguishes God’s omnipresence as absolute space, the
space of creation and the relative places of relationships and movements in the cre-
ated world. However, he leaves us alone with the question of how these three spaces/
places might be interconnected, and how one might know about or experience the
interconnectedness of God’s divine space, the space of creation and the relative
places of the living.
For me, it seems unsatisfying to content oneself with ontologically identifying
God as space and the space in which God works. Theology needs to elaborate what
such a concept means and how it can be made plausible in transdisciplinary dis-
courses as well as in a pluralist world society where general statements about God
as Creator need to be contextualized. It remains furthermore, cautiously said,
unclear how Moltmann’s reflections about God’s Wohnraum are connected to his
extensive concepts of time and his eschatology of hope. To frame it in the words
from his own titles: How is the Coming of God taking place in and for the Wohnraum
of the Creation? Should we understand God’s living space as the Coming of God?
Is space itself the coming?
If so, another problem raises. Although Moltmann intensely tried to overcome
the separation of the past, present and future in his, Jewish inspired, model of the
entangled (verschränkten) times of history, where past, present and future lie in
each other, he did not convincingly overcome the reductionist thinking about “the
76 S. Bergmann
already-and-not-yet” that Westhelle rightly criticized above. For me, it is not at all
clear to what degree furthermore Moltmann‘s “eschatological Christology,” which I
regard as his most constructive contribution to systematic theology, follows such a
scheme. On the one hand he clearly depicts the coming of Christ as the beginning of
the coming perfection of salvation. Christology is for him the beginning of eschatol-
ogy (Moltmann 2010). On the other hand, he remains within the ordinary under-
standing of time in his “forward-Christology” approach; although he strongly
rejects Karl Barth’s time-eternity-eschatology and thereby starts to break out of the
Augustinian concept. What does Moltmann mean by postulating that the present
becomes “the present future”? (Moltmann 2010) Why is this present not spelled out
as a complex spatial reality, where the unseen already might dwell in the seen?
The dilemma clearly visualizes, in my view, the lack of a functioning entangle-
ment of Raum and time. Spinning Antje Jackelén’s yarn further: the lack of a rela-
tional understanding of time on the one hand (which was her emphasis) and of a
complex relational understanding of space on the other (which was mine) must
necessarily be overcome. The challenge to a theological spacetime theory compat-
ible with Einstein’s breakthrough in science, and an ecological eschatology that is
enlightened by Picht’s wisdom about the non-uniformity of space with time, still
seems to lie ahead. Thanks to Westhelle, though, we can, already here and now,
intuit a liberative spatial eschatology and start to design and build places for and
with the dispossessed to encounter the eschata.
Another relevant dilemma, for our inspiring discussion, lies in the question of
whether or not Moltmann’s eschatological creation doctrine and Christology offers
a space for those without rooms to experience the eschaton that is taking place.
While Westhelle, as we saw, exposed the potential of a spatial eschatology for us, a
similar insight can also grow from within the theological discourse about time and
especially memory and remembrance in time. Johann Baptist Metz has in his famous
and widely discussed essay (Metz 1972) made theologians aware of the importance
of remembering the sufferings in the past as significant for the present and for the
liberation to come. What kinds of places, sociocultural and also built places and
environments (Bergmann 2008) are needed for to enhance the remembrance of the
suffering past for the sake of the living and those to come? What role can the suffer-
ings of the past and present play in the encounter with the God who comes, both
from our past and future, and how are these encounters life-enhancing for our com-
mon earth and future?
At Home in the World to Come
Finally, I would like to approach our question about the “Where and How of the
Spirit taking place in the eschaton of Creation” from another angle: from thinking
about home (German Heimat) in the context of eschatology. Especially two accel-
erating tendencies in our contemporary world are escalating the urgency of this
question. (a) The ongoing dangerous and dramatic climate change threatens not
only the sustainable survival of lands and people but also radically attacks the heart
of faith itself, by triggering the question: how the world still can be regarded as a
good creation if God’s own images, the human beings, are destroying it. (b)
Xenophobic cultural and political misuse of concepts of Heimat and belonging is
unsaintly becoming common in order to narrow down, territorialize and control
identity and land.
According to Paul Christian believers have their home in heaven (Phil. 3:20).
“Home” (πολιτευμα) can, in this usage, also mean citizenship, right to live, or state.
While not all citizens of the city of Philippi had the right of the Roman law and
while the Jews in the city represented a specific “citizenship” Paul tried to establish
a home for all Christians where similar rules as in the Roman state also were work-
ing in the heavenly world. In the heavenly book of life all names of the believers are
inscribed (cf. Phil. 4:3). It was common also in Greek culture to project a “polis”
also to the end of the world and to the underworld where the dead are living. For
Paul it was Christ who would at his return take away the believers to the heavenly
reign. Paul draws on the image of a heavenly city where Christ is ready to welcome
and care for the believers who already have a politeuma in it, a home and a right to
live in communion with God and each other.
Liberation theologians have rightly criticized the vision of a heavenly home in
contrast to make oneself at home on this earth, but such a criticism should not be
aimed at Paul and his images in the letter to the Philippians, as these are contrasting
the Empire on the one side and the belonging of the Christians to Christ on the other
side. The image of a home in heaven has, in his context, a strong political meaning
which intends to encourage and protect the believers in the politics of the Roman
Empire and to strengthen them in their conflicts with seductive teachers. Also reviv-
alist movements in early modern Christianity have cultivated such a political mean-
ing; by imaging and praising “the heavenly city” they produced a potentially safe
place above and beyond this world in order to resist the oppressive powers both of
the national state and the dominant state churches connected to it.5
Nevertheless, the criticism of a split between this and the other world should
make us aware of the dualistic gap of the image of Heimat and the risk of tearing
apart heaven and earth from each other in a fatal way, a split that breaks the essential
code of the world to come as a good creation on earth, not beyond it.6 When Paul
talks about the world it usually aims at the Roman Empire and is contrasted to the
good creation which is in its becoming in the alternative “contrast society” of the
Christian communion. The task for a spatial eschatology is to preserve the comfort-
ing political potential in distancing oneself from this oppressive world through
images of the heavenly city as a resource for mobilizing spiritual energy for the
5
For a more extensive discussion of how the experiences of exile and homelessness on earth and
in the body were supposed to be overcome by a spiritual journey to heavenly Jerusalem, where
pilgrimage served to utopianize heavenly space at the same time that it enhanced the universaliza-
tion of salvation, see Bergmann (2014).
6
Cf. Vicenzotti’s constructive and relevant distinction of conservative vs. utopian understandings
of Heimat. (Vicenzotti 2015).
78 S. Bergmann
rebuilding of this world and the earthly city as a habitable place for the images of
God and other creatures to live in. Hereby eschatology follows a classical biblical
path, where apocalyptic imagery in the New Testament, as well as exile narratives,
should not be interpreted, as Barbara Rossing strikingly has made evident, as
encouragement to escapism but as constructive tool to mobilize encountering power
in the imperial context (Rossing 2009).
Might home, coming home and making oneself at home serve us as central meta-
phors for the entanglement of this world and the world to come? A relational under-
standing of time that also deeply relates to the spatiality of time and Earth seems
essential for inclusion in the backpack of walking such a path. Might theology (and
the churches) walking it move closer towards coming home, that is to the places of
ecclesiogenesis and encounters with the Spirit who gives life to the world to come?
Summarized in the hymno-poetic way, which Antje creatively, yet without enough
recognition, has connected to the science-theology studies, the ecumenically, or
should we say creationally, loved chant from Peru,7 in its use of the especially short
preposition of place (for God’s place and presence) “hay/there” (in time and at
place) wonderfully corresponds to the argument of my chapter
Un nuevo día amanece A new day dawns

y los campos reverdecen, and the fields are reviving,
hombres nuevos aparecen new people are appearing
de una tierra nueva crecen. a new earth is growing.
Y sus voces como truenos And their voices like thunder
van rompiendo los silencios, break the silence,
y en sus cantos con aliento and in their breath-taking songs
hay un Dios que va contento. there is God who is happy.
References
Bergmann, Sigurd. 2006. Atmospheres of synergy: Towards an eco-theological aesth/ethics of

space. Ecotheology 11: 326–356.
Bergmann, Sigurd. 2008. Making oneself at home in environments of urban amnesia: Religion and
theology in city space. International Journal of Public Theology 2: 70–97.
Bergmann, Sigurd. 2014. Religion, space and the environment. New Brunswick/London:
Transaction Publishers.
Jackelén, Antje. 2005. Time & eternity: The question of time in church, science, and theology.
Philadelphia/London: Templeton Foundation Press.
Jackelén, Antje. 2015. http://www.svenskatal.se/20140930-antje-Jackelén-predikan-vid--
riksmotets-oppnande-2014/. Accessed 6 Mar 2015.
Jammer, Max. 1953. Concepts of space. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Jammer, Max. 1960. Das Problem des Raumes: Die Entwicklung der Raumtheorien, mit einem
Vorwort von Albert Einstein. Darmstadt: WBG.
7
Buenas Nuevas pa mi pueblo, text and music by Gilmer Torres, Peru, verse 3 (my translation).
Jammer, Max, and Yi-Fu Tuan. 1974. Topophilia: A study of environmental perception, attitudes,
and values. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall.
Metz, Johann Baptist. 1972. Erinnerung des Leidens als Kritik eines teleologisch-technologischen
Zukunftsbegriffs. Evangelische Theologie 32: 338–352.
Moltmann, Jürgen. 1985. God in creation: An ecological doctrine of creation. London: SCM.
Moltmann, Jürgen. 2002. Gott und Raum. In Wo ist Gott? Gottesräume – Lebensräume, ed.
J. Moltmann and C. Rivuzumwami, 29–41. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag.
Moltmann, Jürgen. 2010. Ethik der Hoffnung. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus.
Picht, Georg. 1979. Ist Humanökologie möglich? In Humanökologie und Frieden. (Forschungen
und Berichte der Fest 34), ed. Constanze Eisenbart, 14–123, 33. Stuttgart: Klett Cotta.
Rossing, Barbara. 2009. God’s Lament for the Earth: Climate change, Apocalypse and the Urgent
Kairos Movement. In God, creation and climate change: Spiritual and ethical perspectives, ed.
Karen L. Bloomquist. LWF Studies 02/2009, 129–143. Geneva: The Lutheran World
Federation.
Skrimshire, Stefan. 2010. Future ethics: Climate change and apocalyptic imagination. New York/
London: Bloomsbury.
Tillich, Paul. 1962. Die verlorene Dimension. Hamburg: Furche.
Torres, Gilmer. Buenas Nuevas pa mi pueblo, text and music.
Vicenzotti, Vera. 2015. Belonging in the Peri-Urban landscape: Do new landscapes require new
conceptions of home? In At home in the future, (Studies in religion and the environment 11, ed.
John Rodwell and Peter Manley Scott, forthcoming. Berlin: LIT.
Westhelle, Vitor. 2012. Eschatology and space: The lost dimension in theology past and present.
New York: Palgrave Macmillan.
Wirén, Jakob. 2013. Hope and otherness: Christian eschatology in an interreligious context. Lund:
Lund University.
Sigurd Bergmann holds a doctorate in systematic theology from Lund University and is Professor
in Religious Studies at the Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies at the Norwegian
University of Science and Technology in Trondheim. His previous studies have investigated the
relationship between the image of God and views of nature in late antiquity, the methodology of
contextual theology, visual arts in the indigenous Arctic and Australia, as well as visual arts, archi-
tecture and religion. He has initiated the European Forum on the Study of Religion and Environment,
and ongoing projects investigate the relation of space/place and religion and ‘religion in climatic
change’. His main publications are Geist, der Natur befreit (rev. ed. Creation Set Free); God in
Context; Architecture, Aesth/Ethics and Religion (ed.); Theology in Built Environments (ed.);
In the Beginning is the Icon; Så främmande det lika (on Sámi visual arts, globalisation and
religion); Raum und Geist: Zur Erdung und Beheimatung der Religion; and Religion, Space
and the Environment. Bergmann was a co-leader of the interdisciplinary programme ‘Technical
Spaces of Mobility’ (2003–2007) and co-edited The Ethics of Mobilities; Nature, Space & the
Sacred; Religion, Ecology & Gender; Religion and Dangerous Environmental Change;
Religion in Environmental and Climate Change, and Christian Faith & Earth. 2011–2012 he
was a visiting fellow at the Rachel Carson Center for Environment and Society in München. He
is editor of this series, board member of several international journals, and leader of the section
for philosophy, history of ideas and theology/religious studies in the Royal Norwegian Society
of Sciences and Letters.
Chapter 7
A Poetical Proposal: Diversity in Lutheran
Traditions
John Nunes
When things go wrong with religion they tend to go badly

wrong, because religion is such a powerful force
(Jackelén 2012).
Abstract The design of many contemporary theological frameworks seems notably

deficient as it pertains to a creative poetics of the possible, especially as applied to
alterity and in dealing with difference. I will propose a discourse and praxis reaching
beyond the factional and, from an eschatological analysis, fictional understandings
of diversity—limited as they are by categories primarily grounded in sociological
disciplines—toward the recognition of our commonly unique humanity via the
Imago Dei as analogia relationis (cf. Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Creation and Fall).
A proximate spark for my topic emerges from a single sentence in a recent pre-
scient book review of Terry Eagleton’s Culture and the Death of God. This former
chief rabbi of the Commonwealth of Nations, Jonathan Sacks, writing in the Jewish
Review of Books muses: “Too little has been done within the faith traditions them-
selves to make space for the kind of diversity with which we will have to live if
humankind is to have a future” (2014). These words, at a minimum, form an echo
of Martin Luther King’s prophetic axiom, “If we cannot learn to live together as
sisters and brothers we will surely perish apart as fools.”
But I am reading Sacks also to say that there is a particular creative opportunity
to imagine or even re-imagine our koinonia with categories resonant to a fuller
range of the Christian theological enterprise. The poetics of the possible proceed
from the future, redeem the present and interpret the past, all through an eternal lens
of recognitive relationality, die Anerkennung.
Keywords Poetics • Postcolonial theology • Imago Dei • Diversity • Critical

modernism
J. Nunes (*)
Theology, English, International Studies, Valparaiso University, Valparaiso, IN, USA
Christ College, Valparaiso University, Valparaiso, IN, USA
e-mail: John.nunes@valpo.edu

82 J. Nunes
Students of Professor Antje Jackelén, especially from 2001 to 2007 during her
tenure at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, cannot claim in good
conscience that their intellects were not imprinted with her sagacious insistence on
“a theology resolved to pursue the critical and self-critical reflection on the contents
and effects of religious traditions” (2013). We, mentored by her, know what she
intends by this: that theological reflection must be not only a reciprocal interplay of
critique and self-critique, but in the interest of evangelical-catholic integrity and
with fluid perpendicularity, theologians engage all texts and contexts—especially
texts and contexts labeled, at times dismissively, as secular.
The descriptive secular I apply with caution because Archbishop Jackelén’s
notion of “religious tradition” is capacious, comprehensive and inclusive. Not
unlike Joseph Sittler (1904–1987) or Mark Taylor, for example, does she delight in
tracing God’s creative and active presence in unexpected places (Banks 2010).1
Among the benefits of an openness to a myriad of multi-directionalities is the
manner in which it prepares the interpreter to work in a way that averts deadly intel-
lectual traps, like the romanticization an idea until it becomes an ideology or the
crystallization of a single stream of theological thinking to the point of idolatry,
whether that theology is purportedly orthodox or putatively progressive in nature.
What we need today is a more rigorous enlightenment and a softer ontology: an enlighten-
ment that is enlightened about the risks of freezing into dogma and a more open philosophy
and theology that takes seriously that we are always exposed – exposed to the undecidabil-
ity that marks the essence of being (the great achievement of quantum physics) and to the
contextuality that requires perpetual translation between texts and contexts under the spell
and the promise of the ambiguity of language (Jackelén 2012).
I extend to my work in the North American context Jackelén’s call for a more
rigorous enlightenment as a critique of those who freeze human identity in a theo-
logically and scientifically fictional category like race. The predilection of western-
ers toward a hard ontology of cultural ethnicity has the devastating effect of freezing
particular individuals within pessimistic, racialistic artificiality. Traditions of
Lutheranism must critique themselves and the western arena in which the content of
that faith is practiced. This essay will deploy intentionally two European men from
within the Lutheran tradition, Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906–1945) and Søren
Kierkegaard (1811–1855), as the bearers of this assignment, hoping to provoke a
retranslation of North American Lutheran traditions with respect to diversity. I will
conclude with an extended narrative designed to break open notions of diversity
with the poetical “promise of the ambiguity of language.”
In his review of Terry Eagleton’s Culture and the Death of God, the former chief
rabbi of the Commonwealth of Nations, Jonathan Sacks, writing in the Jewish
Review of Books, muses: “Too little has been done within the faith traditions them-
selves to make space for the kind of diversity with which we will have to live if
humankind is to have a future” (Sacks 2014). These words, at a minimum, form an
echo of Martin Luther King’s prophetic axiom, “If we cannot learn to live together
1
Eric Banks, “The Provocations of Mark Taylor,” in The Chronicle of Higher Education, 24
January 2010: “I always find religion most interesting where it is least expected.”
7 A Poetical Proposal: Diversity in Lutheran Traditions 83
as sisters and brothers we will surely perish apart as fools.” But they also point to an
epistemological challenge Sacks issues for Christian thinkers and leaders as they
take up questions of diversity: deliberate first, he guides, within your own tradition,
exert your intellectual muscle as a redemptive re-translator of your tradition, luring
it from its monocultural myopia with resources natively available within that
tradition.
I read Sacks, by implication, to suggest that the healing is found within the
wound: that the miraculous does not contravene or suspend the laws of nature but is
found within the mystery of nature itself; that a tradition—albeit originative of the
wounding, in this case that of racism and the modernist period in which it arose—is
also a key for ameliorating that injustice; that a system perverted to privilege the
interests of some and structured to divert the hopes and dreams of others should not
be bypassed, let off the hook, closed, or even destroyed. But it is within that offend-
ing tradition that the effects of villainy should be addressed, there the arduous task
of redemption is wrought.
I propose in particular a critique that is poetic (animated by poiesis) to thaw the
theory (theoria) and practice (praxis) of the so-called western tradition, to keep
open its categories, to unfreeze it long enough to yield a more diverse fruit, from the
same roots which gave birth to the crisis of diversity and its racism, in the first place.
Again, Martin King pointed to this near the end of his life:
Deeply woven into the fiber of our religious tradition is the conviction that all people are
made in the image of God, and that they are souls of infinite metaphysical value. If we
accept this as a profound moral fact, we cannot be content to see people hungry, to see
people victimized with ill-health, when we have the means to help them (King, Jr.,M.L
1968).
Note that King begins within the tradition, though source of affliction, to be
appealed to as wellspring of justice, ad fonts.
With reference to the Jackelén’s apothegm at the beginning of this essay, while
North America manifests the preeminent large-scale experiment in human ethno-
cultural pluralism, things have indeed gone wrong with respect to so-called race
relations and diversity, and among Lutheran faith communities in that context,
things have gone badly wrong in part because of the force of religious traditions.
Few religious traditions would ostensibly or publicly proclaim to be opposed to
diversity, but as Jackelén notes: “We want the otherness, we want the tolerance, we
want the diversity, but we just can’t have only diversity and nothing else” (Jackelén
2004). Thinking about diversity in contemporary society comes with baggage and
Lutheran religious traditions seem lagging in their development of theological cat-
egories to unpack that baggage—that is, neither the good baggage nor the bad bag-
gage. This in part is due indubitably to the concretizing effect of religion. There are,
from a Christian perspective, limits to diversity as it is often propounded by other
sciences, namely sociology and psychology. I propose Jackelén’s hermeneutical
key, critical and self-critical reflection, as an interpretive lens for examining the
context of North American Lutheranism with a critical modernist eye, providing an
84 J. Nunes
apparatus for both the affirmation of diversity and the necessary disavowals of
diversity.
Jackelén’s third lecture at the 2003 Goshen Conference on Religion and Science
proposed a “constructive postmodernism,” a way of thinking that pursues “a middle
path between the extremes of rigid rationality and fuzzy relativism” (Jackelén
2004). This way takes seriously the contributions of the Enlightenment while avoid-
ing some of modernity’s errors.2
What I mean by modernity informs my definition of critical modernism. Aware
of narrower definitions of modernism in the arts, philosophy and sciences, I am
referring instead to a broad set of ideas: Modernism, according to the historian
Jacques Barzun (1907–2012) (2000), is the European, intellectual movement which
revolutionized the world’s understanding of power and property. With Barzun, I
identify modernism’s beginnings as roughly around the era of Martin Luther’s
Wittenberg Reformation of 1517, with roots, of course, trailing back into the
Renaissance period. Sparking an awareness of humanistic self-consciousness
related to the study of philosophy and theology, arts and sciences, modernism was
nourished in large part by the unearthing of ancient Greek and Roman sources. But
there is something of the modernity project that remains critically unfinished (per-
haps, even unfinishable)—an irreconcilable gap due to its furtive, less obvious
“eternal and the immutable” character, a crisis of Time and Eternity, we might say
in Jackelénesque fashion.
Modernism then, by nature, is both unfinished, comprised of continuing possibil-
ity and brimming with intrinsic potential for its own healing precisely because it is
unfinished. As Charles Baudelaire (1821–1867) declaimed in 1863: “By ‘moder-
nity’ I mean the ephemeral, the fugitive, the contingent, the half of art whose other
half is the eternal and the immutable” (Jennings 2006). So, I will take the delibera-
tion over modernity’s inchoate character and inherent potential (cf. Merold
Westphal3), yoke it to Jackelén’s wise insistence on “critical and self-critical reflec-
tion” and from that juxtaposition emerges a critical modernism.
2
While easy associations of these two posts (postmodernism and postcolonialism) seem inferen-
tially reasonable, a de facto coupling of postcolonialism with postmodernism misses the reality
that all posts are not created equal, so to speak; postcolonialism and postmodernism derive from
an environment that is not coincident in time, geographic location or referential scope. Further,
postmodernism’s incredulity toward metanarratives represents potentially a disavowal of certain
historical and present realities. Although those realities may have wounded by providing the ideo-
logical fodder for colonialism, I maintain it is within this wound that healing is found for what ails
postcolonial communities economically, socially and spiritually. Credulity, or a hermeneutic of
hope, toward certain metanarratives, even as they are critiqued and scrutinized and scrubbed by
critical modernism, rather than a default hermeneutic of suspicion, might be just what is needed
most.
3
It should not go without saying, however, that critical modernity and postmodernity—especially
as used by philosophically-oriented theologians—do share in common some key characteristics.
As Merold Westphal describes in the preface of Modernity and Its Discontents: “Critical modern-
ism and postmodernism agree that all forms of foundationalism have failed be they rationalist,
empiricist, phenomenological, positivist.”9 He continues with an estimation of what critical mod-
ernism can import from that confederation of ideas ascribed as postmodernism:
The most likely heir to modernism in the world of constructive theology is

postmodernism. For the sake of this argument I reduce and simplify postmodernism
to that strain of thinking corresponding with Jean-Francois Lyotard’s (1924–1998)
classic definition of postmodernism as an incredulity toward metanarratives, for
which he substitutes petits recits.4 Among the more occlusive practitioners of post-
modernism, narratives derived from white, male, and European sources are regarded
as ipso facto suspect and a prime source of global injustice. Critical modernist
thinkers do in fact recognize a shaking of the foundations of foundationalism, a
disruption and subversion of the magnitude of its authorial claims, but not a whole-
sale inutility of its historical reality. I would identify as postmodernity’s fatal tautol-
ogy and interior intellectual hypocrisy that move which sees itself as having arrived
entirely at an unending flux of meanings by deconstructing (as contrasted with cri-
tiquing) modernity with modernity’s very own tools. Applied to Lutheranism, such
would result in a dismissal of the Reformation’s sixteenth century confessional
writings because of the alleged “cultural baggage” of their European location. It is
dismissed as not taking seriously, for example, the postcolonial experience—which
might be the case, but only at first blush. Critical modernism, while recognizing the
potential totalizing influence of theological metanarratives, prefers not to reject the
tradition outright as congenitally oppressive, but recognizes within its metanarrativ-
ity the influence of many diverse petites recits.
“Europe’s history is marked by linguistic, cultural and religious diversity,”
Jackelén concurs. “The collective term ‘the Christian West’ does not do justice to
that fact” (2012). To illustrate this historic “injustice” and this contemporary over-
sight indicated by Jackelén, we need look no further than the historical anatomy of
the religiously-rooted western university. It constitutes a premiere example of the
fluid, hybridized, inherently diverse character of anything we take to be, say, a pure,
ideal type.
Flowing into the stream of our learning communities, when our discourse is at its
best, are multiple tributaries, many ancient rivers, a plurality of civilizational ante-
cedents. We tend to lump these reductionistically into a haunting hegemonic cate-
gory called western, itself often overloaded with white Euro-based associations.5 To
be western and educated is itself a participation in diversity: the religions of
Jerusalem; the scholasticism of Athens; the library science of Alexandria; the ethics
of Ashoka, the third century emperor of India; the legal theory and structure of
Rome; the anthropology of the introspective north African, St. Augustine; the
Critical modernism retains the modernistic commitment to rationality, critique, and evi-
dence, but listens to and learns from its postmodern other about mediation, the fallibility of
reason, the nefarious political uses to which reason is often put, and the pathology of the
modern. Critical modernism rejects triumphalistic modernist tendencies toward totally apo-
dictic truth and is critical of postmodernism…
4
This theme pervades Jean Francois Lyotard. Postmodern Condition (Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 1984).
5
The middle- and upper-middle class communities of, most often, white people in the United
States, western Europe, South Africa, Australia, and Canada are most frequently considered the
bearers and custodians of what we call western.
86 J. Nunes
academic organization of the Al-Azhar Muslim school in Cairo which provided the
structural model for the first European universities (MacCulloch 2009); the algebra
of mathematician Al-Khwārizmī (780–850),6 from whose very name we get the
word algorithm, who taught at the House of Wisdom in Baghdad during the golden
age of Islam. Algebra itself is an Arabic word meaning, “the reunion of broken
parts.” The politics of London; the humanitarianism of Geneva; the theologies of
Wittenberg’s Lutheranism, Geneva’s Calvinism, Aldersgate’s Methodism and
Asuza Street’s rebirthing of Pentecostalism; the technology of Silicon Valley. It is
all ours, “veined in us,” the poet Derek Walcott says, “more alive than marble”
(2009). To be western is itself to be diverse. Every culture is a bricolage.
To write about matters of diversity as a North American Lutheran provides its
own template of irony. Lutheranism would seem, in many regards, to have earned
historically the nefarious distinction to be a least likely voice in any conversation
dealing with alterity or difference. In North America, Lutherans are comprised of
more English-speaking white people than any other religious tradition—including
Mormons, which takes some work, considering the historic exclusion and
doctrinally-supported racism of the Latter Day Saints.7 But the time has arrived for
Lutherans to address squarely this scandal. The United States was 85 % white in
1960 and will be 43 % white in 2060.8 The poet’s prophetic critique appertains, as
Maya Angelou (1928–2014) echoed Psalm 8:
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance (Angelou, M. 1993).
I turn to the heart of Lutheran content, two dead white male Europeans, in an
attempt to lift out of “the bruising darkness” the North American diversity conversa-
tion—as Sacks suggests, from within.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer counsels that human koinonia, the sense of being a com-
munity of diverse persons, finds unity in something extrinsic to that community.
“We belong to one another only through and in Jesus Christ” (Bonhoeffer 1996) and
“there is never, in any whatsoever, an ‘immediate’ relationship of one to another”
(Bonhoeffer 1996). Hence, his conclusion that those who love community, or in this
present topic, those lovers of diversity, preempt genuine community, but those who
love Christ, Bonhoeffer would implore us, sustain community.
A crisis for lovers of diversity, in my reading, is their tendency to define the other
according to a category, as an essential type, in such a way that it forecloses the
possibility of ever really knowing the other because she is now encapsulated within
an ontological and definitional framework which erects finite barriers to her being
fully known. Such an approach to diversity represents an ontological escapism, a
6
Full name: Muḥammad ibn Mūsā al-Khwārizmī.
7
http://commons.trincoll.edu/aris/
8
http://mic.com/articles/87819/what-will-america-look-like-in-2060-9-bold-predictions-
about-our-future
misrepresentation and misrecognition due to an a priori abstract ideal that ignores

(1) the concrete, real human person standing right before us and (2) the hegemonic
structures which incarcerate individuals in reductionist containers of anonymity. It
is irrational to highlight the ultimate specialness of any general group’s cultural
ethnicity if that highlighting is over against the one race to which we all belong,
called human. This insidiously racialized Gnosticism manifests itself in incommen-
surable claims like: “It’s a black thing, you wouldn’t understand,” or “mirror, mirror
on the wall who’s the most Latino of us all?” European supremacist narratives like-
wise devise an exclusiveness which mitigates against common humanity.
There are limits to diversity that a critical modernist approach can help us, “in the
bruising darkness,” to elucidate:The most enduring definition of diversity, from a
Christian perspective, is that which values others inherently as fellow humans wor-
thy of respect despite and even within the full range of our differences, but not
because of differences. The problem with valuing others in an unqualified manner
because or due to the fact that they are different is the limit of recourse to disassoci-
ate that respect from those types of diversity and difference considered objection-
able; for example, when in the name of diversity someone violates intentionally
other humans, transgresses Christian ethics or destroys creation, while we should
continue to value those others as human persons, it constitutes, however, an absurd
violation of conscience to value them because of their diversity. That would be tan-
tamount to valuing a difference discerned to be destructive.9
Because this valuing of the other is predicated on our understanding of the image
of God,10 it behooves us to look at a fascinating little note in Bonhoeffer’s commen-
tary on Genesis, where he proposes an understanding of the image of God going
beyond analogia entis, or the analogy of being—that the image of God is realized
ontologically, frozen in humans as a mirror in miniature of the divine. Bonhoeffer’s
introduces to this the notion of analogia relationis or the analogy of relationality—
that the image of God is realized fluidly in human community as we relate to one
another with dignity (Bonhoeffer 1997). This analogy of relationship reflects a God
9
Though simple, I find this acrostic not simplistic, but a useful teaching tool for diversity:
Different
Individuals
Valuing
Each other
Regardless of
Skin
Identity
Talent or
Years
10
The fullness of the Imago Dei “in, with and under” every human person carries the corresponding
dynamic of every individual’s right to be regarded with dignity within every cultural context. I
define the human person within an Augustinian framework as a “being imaging the essence of
God, of unconditional worth, characterized by a complex of internal and external relationships
which are integrated into a unity of being, relation, and activity.” E. Edward Hackmann, “Augustine
and the Concept of Person” in Lutheran Theological Review III: 2 (Spring/Summer 1991): 25.
88 J. Nunes
who is also “community” of Father, Son and Spirit, or as St. Augustine (354–430)
puts it much more panoramically, of Love, Lover and Beloved. This curiously cor-
responds with Islamic mysticism’s principle of Sufism, the mantra: “Ishq Allah,
Ma’bud lillah,” God is love, lover, and beloved. God’s image is reflected in dynamic
human interaction, a “beloved community,” to invoke Martin King.
Further, Bonhoeffer counsels in Life Together against the anticipatory, tribalist
stereotyping of the other: “I can never know in advance how God’s image should
appear in others. …Rather this diversity is a reason for rejoicing in one another and
serving one another” (Bonhoeffer 1997). Human diversity, then, is not astatic, a set
of goals, categories to be predicted, boxes to be checked, containers to filled, but our
diversity is a reflective image of the divinity, providing a fluid template of loving
service as it values in love the lives of others, and gives full-throated, full-hearted
fully-terrestrial, fully interpendent praise to the God of love who loves all creation.
As Jackelén enjoins, “Such a theology will not worship purity as a value in itself, it
will be prepared to get dirty in its earthy business” (2012). Diversity seeks no easy
path of ontological, docetic escapism, but does its duty in the fullness of our selves,
embodied persons “of infinite metaphysical value” (MLK), diversely incarnating
the image of God: “For in their bodily nature human beings are related to the earth
and to other bodies; they are there for others and are dependent upon others”
(Bonhoeffer 1997).
In Professor Jackelén’s pedagogy she advocates the benefit of acquiring, curating
and communicating ideas through storytelling.11 Invoking Paul Ricoeur, she con-
tends that time cannot be fully understood outside of its narrative sense (Jackelén
2005). To the point of this essay more particularly, identity itself, the other and
finally, the Other, “must be understood narratively” (Jackelén 2005).
What follows is an attempt to convey a narrated experience, to introduce my
second Lutheran figure, Søren Kierkegaard, and to propose a poetics of the possible
as a schema for interpreting and advocating for diversity.
It was the heart of a hot August. I should have been fatigued as rolled my luggage
bags from the rental car lot to the Delta Airlines terminal, but the buoyant bounce in
my stride spoke for itself: I was impervious to the heavy Manitoba heat, I had just
lectured at an event and it went refreshingly well. A man with a welcoming Winnipeg
smile partly hidden beneath his prairie whiskers pointed me and other Minneapolis-
bound travelers toward a sign with an arrow reading, “United States Immigration.”
In Canada? I mused mind-roamingly to myself. I hadn’t seen anything like this
anywhere in the world; there was certainly no U.S. Immigration desk in the Netaji
Subhas Chandra Bose International Airport—a diversion I mention only to draw
attention to how much I like this serious name, after a postcolonial Indian hero, as
contrasted with the sillier almost incredulous name of Kolkata’s airport during colo-
nialist era, Dum Dum Airport.
11
There are some philosophical concepts, for examples, time, which only can be understood in a
narrated, not definitional context. See Antje Jackelén’s Time and Eternity: The Question of Time in
Church, Science, and Theology. Translated by Barbara Harshaw (Philadelphia: Templeton, 2005).
But a U.S. Immigration desk in Canada? I guess Canada—quite dissimilar to the

U.S.’s southern neighbor, Mexico—occupies some special space as our friendly
neighbors, the nation with the nickname, “Great White North”—another diversion,
this one to draw attention to how much I don’t like that double-edged sobriquet for
Canada.
A U.S. Immigration desk in Canada is a rather useful metaphor—people can be
theoretically permitted back into the United States, they can even hear those words,
“Welcome home,” while spatially, they haven’t even yet boarded the plane to leave
Canada. Something of a geographic analogy for living eschatologically, in a state of
time and eternity, simultaneously, a sequential suspension of the “now” and the “not
yet,” having fully arrived while still on the journey, having fully realized that there’s
one race called human, but with plenty of diversity work left to do, with 646 nautical
miles to go, or as most of the world, including Canada, might commonly measure
that distance, 1039 nautical kilometers.
As I leaned forward in that line, trying hard to appear casual as a disguise for my
eavesdropping, I heard the tall United States immigration agent speaking in German
to a traveler. Waiting, I retrieved to the front of mind my limited German vocab,
because it never hurts to relate in a friendly way to a man in a uniform who could
ruin your day.
By now I was daydreaming, imagine me a fake German-speaking, Jamaica-born,
U.S. citizen being denied entry to my own country while yet in the country where I
was raised, where my parents even now currently live, in Canada.
I imagined hearing the judgment: “You are not permitted to leave your former
home to go back to you current home, so now go to your parents’ home.” As my
brain was about to pop at the existential possibilities, my turn came and with no one
behind me I strode fully prepared, with elation, toward the desk: “Güten Tag,
Herr…—eyes down to his name-tag, “Herr Hong?” “Oh, I continued,” in English,
“I know that name, Hong, in fact, a Howard and an Edna Hong—translators of one
of my favorite philosophers Søren Kierkegaard.
“You know the name Hong, do you?” he probed, peering down his nose, through
his drugstore reading glasses, eyes narrowing in a winced pause, then quizzically
widening. I could see him swallowing hard. A pause. Then he looked around, and in
a non-official, non immigration-agent tone, said something more unimaginable than
the absurd scenario I was painting in my mind while standing in line:
“Those would be my dear, deceased parents. How in the world do you know them?”
“Well I don’t know them,” I managed to stutter in some shocked staccato tone, “but I’ve
cited them in enough bibliographies to never forget them. Their work saved Kierkegaard for
the English-speaking world.”
Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw no one behind me in the queue so I knew
I had time to “talk Kierkegaard” with one of the few everyday human beings who
appreciated this Danish philosopher and theologian more than I. So, I told him
about a paper I once wrote in a graduate-level course where I got an A, a course on
Kierkegaard taught by Antje Jackelén who was, by the way, in 2013 elected as the
first woman to be Archbishop of Sweden. I was previously her teaching assistant—a
90 J. Nunes
diversion I add simply for the purposes of name-dropping. In this paper I compared
Kierkegaard’s work with postcolonialism—and Herr Hong here, was at least appear-
ing to be interested.
“And what did you write?”
“Well, I’m glad you asked,” I obliged him and continued. “Both existentialism and
postcolonialism are concerned with dilemmas of existence like identity and personal mean-
ing, the individual’s posture vis-à-vis eternal things, but at times,” I continued, accelerating
to an almost lecture-like cadence, “existentialism presents itself a bit too fancifully for the
postcolonialist, not taking seriously legacies of suffering, the history of oppression, paying
too much attention to the individual, her or his personal dread, prone to miss the place of
community and alterity.”
“You’ve got a point there?” replied Hong graciously, in what sounded more like a ques-
tion. So I kept talking, “Derek Walcott, the world’s greatest poet, is right, existentialism can
degrade itself into a sort of ‘myth of the noble savage gone baroque.’”12
At that, someone who looked like a supervisor began to do his own eavesdrop-
ping and Mr. Hong’s next words to me were, “May I see your passport, sir?” Our
feast had ended. But not without me inviting him to Valparaiso University to talk
with my students about his parents.
Getting home, I dug out some old Kierkegaard, with the Concordia College
bookstore price-sticker still on it. For $6.95 I got both Fear and Trembling and
Repetition translated by his folks, the Hongs. In their introduction they describe the
way Kierkegaard invites us into a third way, a way intended by Aristotle to comple-
ment both theory (theoria) and practice (praxis) as ways of knowing, namely, poet-
ics. Our epistemologies could benefit from more poiesis, more poets of the possible;
not only poets who writes rhymes or verse, not only artists in metrical and meta-
phorical language, but as the Hongs describe Kierkegaard: “The poet is, then, as the
word states, a maker, a maker in the realm of the possible rather than in the realm of
what is or has been” (Hong and Hong 1983).
Poets of the possible, leaning forward on tiptoes, drunk with hope for God’s
future, for what is being made new but going unperceived (Isaiah 43:19), hypothe-
sizing in concrete (Hong and Hong 1983). Peace-making poets of the possible,
building bridges, as Paul Ricoeur proposes “between the poetics of agape and the
prose of justice, between the hymn and the formal rule” (Riceour 2005).
12
The quotation of Derek Walcott’s ensues from a discussion of history, its attendant visions of
progress, and the myths associated with the postcolonial conjunction of the Old and New Worlds.
Ironically, Walcott here employs the idea of absurdity existentially even in debunking any notion
of postcolonial existentialism: “The blasphemous images fade, because these hieroglyphs of prog-
ress are basically comic. And if the idea of the New and the Old becomes increasingly absurd, what
must happen to our sense of time, what else can happen to history itself, but that it, too, is becom-
ing absurd? This is not existentialism. Adamic, elemental man cannot be existential. His first
impulse is not self-indulgence but awe, and existentialism is simply the myth of the noble savage
gone baroque. Existential/philosophies of freedom are born in cities. Existentialism is as much
nostalgia as in Rousseau’s sophisticated primitivism, as sick as recurrence in French thought as the
Ilse of Cythera, whether it is the tubercular, fevered imagery of Watteau or the same fever turned
delirious in Rimbaud and Baudelaire.” Derek Walcott, What the Twilight Says: Essays. (New York:
Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1998): pp. 41–42.
Many global traditions are finding their place within the Kente-like fabric of
western Christianity. They infuse our theoretically bound tradition with their poeti-
cal traditions, like dance and storytelling. These are gifts assuredly, serving to
retranslate “the contents and effects of religious traditions.” But they can fulfill their
prophetic calling to us, for the sake of all of us, only to the extent that (1) we critique
candidly our frozen, hard ontologies; and, 2) we engage the other as a divine-image
bearer with humility and Holy Spirit-inspired hopefulness, confident always that
God is greater.
As I began, so I conclude with a word from Antje: “In theology, Asian, African
and Latin American voices have raised the consciousness that a theologia absoluta
et pura cannot be the norm for doing theology. The norm must be a theology that
can motivate and nourish hope” (Jackelén 2012).
References
Angelou, Maya. 1993. Pulse of the morning. Inaugural Poem.

Banks, Eric. 2010. The provocations of Mark Taylor. The Chronicle of Higher Education 24.
Barzun, Jacques. 2000. From dawn to decadence, 1500 to the present: 500 years of western cul-
tural life. New York: HarperCollins.
Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. 1996. Life together: Prayerbook of the Bible, ed. Geoffrey B. Kelly, trans.
Daniel W. Boesch and James H. Burtness. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works 5. Minneapolis: Fortress.
Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. 1997. Creation and fall: A Theological exposition of genesis 1–3, ed. John
W. de Gruchy, trans. Douglas Stephen Bax. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works 3. Minneapolis:
Fortress.
Hong, Howard V., and Edna H. Hong. (eds. and trans.). 1983. Historical introduction. In Fear and
trembling/repetition, ed. Søren Kierkegaard. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Jackelén, Antje. 2004. The dialogue between science and religion: Challenges and future direc-
tions. Proceedings of the third annual Goshen conference on religion and science, ed. Carl
S. Helrich. Kitchener: Pandora Press.
Jackelén, Antje. 2005. Time and Eternity: The Question of Time in Church, Science, and Theology,
trans. Barbara Harshaw. Philadelphia: Templeton.
Jackelén, Antje. 2012. The dynamics of secularization, atheism and the so-called return of religion
and its significance for the public understanding of science and religion: Some European per-
spectives. Paul Wattson Lecture: University of San Francisco.
Jennings, Michael. 2006. Introduction. In The writer of modern life: Essays on Charles Baudelaire,
ed. Walter Benjamin. Boston: Belknap Press.
King Jr., Martin Luther. 1968. Where do we go from here: Chaos or community? Boston: Belknap
Press.
Lyotard, Jean Francois. 1984. Postmodern condition. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
MacCulloch, Diarmaid. 2009. Christianity: The first three thousand years. New York: Penguin.
Ricoeur, Paul. 2005. The Course of Recognition [Parcours de la recognition], trans. David Pellauer.
Cambridge: Harvard.
Sacks, Johnathan. 2014. “Nostalgia for the Numinous” review of Terry Eagleton. Culture and the
Death of God. Jewish Review of Books (18) Summer. http://commons.trincoll.edu/aris/. http://
mic.com/articles/87819/what-will-america-look-like-in-2060-9-bold-predictions-
about-our-future.
92 J. Nunes
John Nunes serves as the Emil and Elfriede Jochum Chair at Valparaiso University supporting
the study of Christian values in public and professional life. Formerly, John was the President
and CEO of Lutheran World Relief (2007–2013), a $50 million (USD) organization with offices in
17 countries working to alleviate poverty and human suffering. Nunes’ academic interests include
international studies, social theology and postcolonial literature, especially the poetry of Derek
Walcott. An ordained pastor in The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod, John is married to
Monique, Assistant Director of Multicultural Programs at Valpo, and together they are the parents
of six grown children.
Chapter 8
From Traumatic Disruption to Resilient
Creativity: How Hermeneutics, Feminism,
and Postmodernism Provide Grounds
for the Development of a Trauma Sensitive
Theology
Jennifer Baldwin
I say unto you: one must have chaos in oneself to be able to

give birth to a dancing star. I say unto you: you still have chaos
in yourselves.
(Nietzsche)
Abstract During Antje Jackelén’s 2003 Goshen Conference lectures, she explores
the challenges and opportunities hermeneutics, feminism, and postmodernism offer
the dialogue between religion and science. Her primary assertion is that each of
these areas of investigation and discourse both challenge the predominant models of
religion and science interdisciplinarity and, through that challenge, can open up
productive avenues of exploration and unveil insights and resources for struggles
and injustices that emerge in society at large. Narratives and images of life-
threatening violence inundate the consciousness of society, families, and individu-
als leading to the development of traumatic response symptoms in the general
population and in the constructs of society. With rates of vicarious traumatization
and primary traumatization increasing, there is a substantial need for theological
reflection and articulation that is cognizant of the proliferation of traumatic response
and responds with awareness, thoughtfulness, and sensitivity. This essay will
explore the openings created through Jackelén’s exploration of hermeneutics, femi-
nism, and postmodernism to develop a “trauma sensitive theology” that attends to
the neurobiological, psychological, relational, emotional, and spiritual needs of a
traumatized individual, family, community, and society.
J. Baldwin (*)
Grounding Flight Wellness Center, Chicago, IL, USA
Elmhurst College, Elmhurst, IL, USA
e-mail: jlbaldwin78@gmail.com

94 J. Baldwin
Keywords Hermeneutics • Feminism • Postmodernism • Trauma sensitive theology

• Posttraumatic stress disorder
Trauma sucks! It disrupts, disconnects, threatens, and confuses. Consequently, most

people do their best to avoid and ignore traumatic stimuli and encounters; unfortu-
nately, sticking our collective heads in the sand does nothing to reduce the impact
and prevalence of traumatic events. If we choose to abandon unwise dispositions
that ignore trauma, then what DO we do? How do we respond in care? What do we
say to actually help rather appease our own sense of inadequacy and discomfort?
How do we even begin the process of interpretation and understanding with an
intent towards reduction of traumatic incidents? Archbishop Antje Jackelén argues
that the development of language and interpretation are communal endeavors which
shape how members of the community and society construct and describe reality. In
the face of traumatic experiences, what sets the criteria for “an adequate description
of reality” and does that description compassionately and with sensitivity attend to
the struggles of treading the road of resiliency from traumatic exposure.
This essay seeks to view trauma sensitive theology through the critical lenses of
hermeneutics, feminism, and postmodernism offered by Jackelén in her 2003
Goshen lectures. It will proceed in three sections each corresponding and respond-
ing to one of the three prongs present in Jackelén’s lectures. The first will employ
and explicate the value of a hermeneutic of empathy and a hermeneutic of multiplic-
ity. The second section explores the role of chaos and of power and abuses of power
that stand as the centering message of second and third wave feminism. The third
will examine postmodernism as a form of cultural traumatic response, disruption of
modern hopes of uncomplicated progress, and return to somatic wisdom as a “more
than” option. Ultimately the aim of trauma sensitive theology is to promote theo-
logical safety for individuals and communities who have experienced traumatic
wounding while remaining attendant to the power of resiliency within injured per-
sons and/or communities.
Constructing a Trauma Sensitive Theology
What is trauma sensitive theology? Trauma sensitive theology takes as its starting
point the reality and pervasiveness of traumatic experience in contemporary society
via personal/primary trauma, secondary trauma, and cultural trauma. Primary
trauma includes events an individual directly experiences that overwhelm adaptive
systems and threaten life. Primary traumatization is commonly associated with
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and readily identified traumatic events.
Secondary or vicarious trauma is the traumatic reactions that occur when a person’s
loved one is threatened by a traumatic incident but the trauma is not experienced by
the individual directly or is present in caregivers attending to the traumatic responses
8 From Traumatic Disruption to Resilient Creativity: How Hermeneutics, Feminism… 95
of primary trauma survivors (e.g. psychotherapists, pastors, social workers, nurses,

etc.). While the impact of secondary trauma or vicarious traumatization is gaining
awareness in the caring professions, it is generally neglected in cultural awareness
by the population at large. As a result, family members or caregivers of those with
primary traumatic responses frequently do not receive the care or support they need
to process their experiences of feeling overwhelmed and/or helpless. Cultural
trauma occurs when a significant portion of a community’s membership experi-
ences a communal or cultural trauma that results in primary, secondary, or subclini-
cal traumatic responses (e.g. alterations in cultural rhetoric following 9/11 or the
dis-integration of marginalized communities due to systemic oppression). Cultural
trauma is increasingly prevalent due to the rapid proliferation of media technology
that infuses into daily life via television, social media, and radio and almost imme-
diately broadcasts news of trauma. Cultural trauma takes the form of a sense of
prevalent instability, vulnerability and risk, alterations in the validity of authority,
and increases in chronic stress.
Traumatic experiences have occurred throughout human history as testified to
throughout Christian scripture, including the ostracism of the first people from the
garden, the murder of Able by Cain, the fall of the tower of Babel and consequent
rendering of human community, the rape of Tamar, the slavery and oppression of the
Hebrews by Egyptians, exile of the people of Israel during the Assyrian and
Babylonian takeovers, unexpected pregnancy of Mary which threatens her social
ability to survive, the mental illness of the man possessed by Legion, the crucifixion
of Jesus, and the exile of John of Patmos, just to name a few prominent examples.
However, despite the rampant violence and trauma in the text, most theologians
have either neglected to name these events as traumatic or have sought to sacralize
violence and trauma up to the point of being nearly salvific (instructions for indi-
viduals to model the self-sacrifice of Jesus). Traumatic experiences are certainly not
confined to sacred books or historical texts; trauma-inducing events occur nearly
every day in contemporary society in the form of abuse and assault, gun violence,
domestic violence, war experiences, natural disasters, and a myriad of experiences
that indirectly threaten life and survival (eg. impending home foreclosure, job loss,
failures of primary relational relationships).
In recent years, several theologians have directly engaged trauma as a topic for
theological reflection; however, few have an adequately full understanding of
trauma and traumatic response and recovery to attentively and care/fully respond to
survivors of primary trauma, offer support to those with secondary traumatization,
or identify and critique social symptoms of cultural trauma. As a result, theologians
and pastors more often than desired re-traumatize or increase the stigma associated
with the symptoms of traumatic response. Pastoral recommendations, issued from a
place of ignorance of traumatic responses, to pray more faithfully to cope with
symptoms of traumatic flashbacks and nightmares verge on professional miscon-
duct or spiritual abuse. While it would be nice to believe that such improper pastoral
care is a rarity, it is all too common and is symptomatic of fundamental misunder-
standing of the process of traumatic response and resolution within the theological
and ecclesiastical structures that educate and supervise the formation of clergy.
96 J. Baldwin
Contemporary theologians who have courageously taken up the topic of trauma

as worthy of theological attention have fallen into the trap that snares much religion
and science discourse…an imbalance of disciplinary partnership. In this case, rather
than falling prey to “‘thick science and thin theology’ or ‘new science and old theol-
ogy,’” (Jackelén 2003) theologians seeking to attend to trauma do so with a “thick
theology and thin traumatology.” As a result of operating with a “thin traumatol-
ogy,” well-meaning theological scholars cause additional harm in promoting theo-
logical anthropologies in which survivors of trauma are described as “shattered,”
(Rambo 2010) “annihilated souls,” (Shooter 2012) or individuals “whose lives had
been so dramatically undone by violence, that try as they may, they could not seem
to get the existential foothold on life that they needed to become active church par-
ticipants and productive theology students, to say nothing of becoming generally
happy people” (Jones 2009). These descriptions of individuals who have survived
trauma are inherently pathologizing and woefully neglect the inherent resiliency of
human beings.
The challenge of consciously walking the tight rope between fully attending to
the pain and suffering present in experiences of trauma and the hope and tenacity of
human (in fact, mammalian)1 resiliency requires great balance and aptitude of care,
empathy and knowledge of traumatic processing. It also demands discovering an
ever-shifting balance between the hypo-responsiveness of rigidity and the hyper-
responsiveness of disintegrating chaos. As Jackelén states regarding meaningful
science and religion dialogues, “Most certainly, this reflection will not lift us up to
a position of serene clarity. Rather it will force us into … ‘life in the messy middle
of things.’ The messy middle of things is not the most glorious place we can think
of, but for the sake of credibility, I think the dialogue between religion and science
needs to be taken there, and needs to take place there. If the dialogue is not helpful
in the messy middle of life, we should spend our lifetime on other things” (Jackelén
2003). This “messy middle” rather than “serene clarity” is certainly present in the
effort of constructing a trauma sensitive theology. Trauma is absolutely messy. It
disrupts, challenges, overwhelms, and can threaten to destroy; yet, it also demands
that we pay attention to the vicissitudes of certain stability and curious variability,
systemic power and inherent vulnerability and rational transcendence and somatic
immediacy.
Exploring Hermeneutical Lenses of Empathy and Multiplicity
In her opening remarks on the role of hermeneutics for religion and science
discourse, Jackelén states, “Hermeneutics is what turns suspicion from a vice into
an art” (Jackelén 2003). Less poetically put, hermeneutics is all about interpretation
[of a text], understanding [the intent of the text], and valuation [of the textual
1
See Peter Levine, Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997) or G.A. Bradshaw, Elephants on the
Edge (2009).
message and authority]. What do we hear “the text” communicating? How do we

make sense of “the text”? What value to we attribute to the voice of “the text”?
What authority to we grant “the text” in influencing how we engages self, others,
the world, and the divine? What are we willing to claim as “the text”? How do these
questions inform theological reflection and responses to traumatic experiences?
Before venturing into the hermeneutical waters, it is first helpful to consider
authoritative sources for constructing a trauma sensitive theology. Jackelén notes,
“the fusion of the horizons of the text and of the reader is what brings about under-
standing. The term horizon captures the insight that both the text (not necessarily
literally understood as written words) and the interpreter are positioned in and con-
ditioned by time, place and a number of circumstances” (Jackelén 2003). Several
key elements are present in Jackelén’s engagement; specifically, the interaction of
the contextualized “reader” and “text” and the observation that not all texts are com-
prised of written words but can be conceptualized as ritual processes, movement,
somatic awareness and speech. The expansion of “text” from solely the written
word to include a greater variety of sources is essential for the development of a
trauma sensitive theology. What are the vital texts for constructing a trauma sensi-
tive theology? For the theological partner, “texts” are most often indicative of sacred
writings and theological explication and reflection on those sacred narratives; how-
ever, it is also appropriate to consider ritual practices found in the developmental
rites of the church as well as the breadth of practice associated with care of com-
munity. For the therapeutic or psychological partner, “texts” include written vol-
umes that communicate theoretical and intervention options but also increasingly
include the somatic, sensory, and movement stories of bodies as well as minds.
What about the contextualized “reader” and horizon? The contextualized
“reader,” stated most openly, is the curiously engaged responder. The responder
could be a theological or psychological scholar engaging the text of narrative or
theory, the psychotherapist or pastor relating to the text of human interactions and
practices of care, and/or an individual attending to their personal somatic sensations
and internal system. Regardless of the level of curious response, the reader, as
Jackelén notes, is always informed by their own particular socio-temporal and per-
sonal context which creates difference and space from the text. Responsive
readership present with the vulnerable and tenuous text of traumatic experience and
response, whether in the realm of theory, interpersonal care, or internal attentive-
ness, must proceed with openness, humility, care, and curiosity. For the construction
of a trauma sensitive theology, the empathetic and multidimensional engagement,
rather than fusion, between text and reader offer an opportunity for growth of under-
standing for both parties. According to Jackelén, hermeneutics is the balancing rope
on which the reader treads on the journey of understanding.
In the construction of a trauma sensitive theology, the hermeneutical lens of
empathy is foundational. Empathy is the basis of all appropriate responses to
survivors of traumatic experiences and begins with an assumption of shared, yet
distinctly individualized, human affective response and meaning making. While
each person has their own distinct history of interpersonal interactions, learned
schema for ordering new experiences, and internal narratives, empathy is what
98 J. Baldwin
allows us to put ourselves “in another person’s shoes” with the intention of compas-
sionate understanding rather than “fixing.” If hermeneutics provides the lens or
fore-structure through which we interpret and understand, then a hermeneutic of
empathy is what allows us to avoid inflicting further traumatization on the survivor/s.
Too often, traumatic responses are often considered and labeled pejoratively.
Collegiate sexual assault survivors are said to be just seeking attention or special
status.2 Survivor’s struggling with symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder hear
about how they “should just have gotten over it already.” In addition to providing a
protective buffer against additional traumatization of the survivor and unwitting
arrogance on the part of one who retains the “privilege of non-traumatization,” a
hermeneutics of empathy offers a necessary lens for considering a perceived mal-
adaptive response as an, at least temporary and now expired, adaptive survival
response.
During a traumatic experience, mammals have three fundamental neurobiologi-
cal system responses/options that are selected subconsciously based on the per-
ceived degree of risk and safety.
The level of safety determines which one of these is activated at any particular time.
Whenever we feel threatened, we instinctively turn to the first level, social engagement
(activation of ventral vagal complex). We call out for help, support, and comfort from the
people around us. But if no one comes to our aid, or we’re in immediate danger, the organ-
ism reverts to a more primitive way to survive: fight or flight (activation of the sympathetic
nervous system). We fight off our attacker, or we run to a safe place. However, if this fails—
we can’t get away, we’re held down or trapped—the organism tries to preserve itself by
shutting down and expending as little energy as possible. We are then in a state of freeze or
collapse (activation of the dorsal vagal complex) (Van der Kolk 2014).
The symptoms present as a result of unresolved trauma correspond to the sur-

vival mechanisms that are automatically employed during traumatic survival
according to degree of perceived threat. By definition, traumatic stimuli overwhelm
an organism’s ability to respond and incorporate the experience into narrative
memory. In other words, the survival mechanisms glitch and some elements of the
traumatic experience get stuck and retain a ‘here-and-now’ quality as the event
moves into the temporal past. As a result, many of the clinical features of primary
trauma responses are essentially the ghosts of adaptive survival responses.
Hypervigilance and activation of the SNS, in the immediacy of trauma, allows the
organism to attend to a breadth of external and internal stimuli that facilitates a
greater chance of survival. The ghosts of hypervigilance haunt in the form of night-
mares, flashbacks, and a hyper sensitive startle response. Hypoarousal and the
numbing of body sensation due to activation of the DVC at the time of trauma per-
mit the organism to separate awareness from bodily pain allowing for either the
persistence of movement to escape or to employ a freeze response that minimizes
further bodily injury. The ghosts of hypoarousal are present in dissociation.
2
George Will, “Colleges become the victims of progressivism,” Washington Post. http://www.
washingtonpost.com/opinions/george-will-college-become-the-victims-of-progressiv-
ism/2014/06/06/e90e73b4-eb50-11e3-9f5c-9075d5508f0a_story.html. Accessed 24 March 2015.
A hermeneutic of empathy offers the lenses of understanding, contextualization,

and compassion in viewing traumatic responses as a-temporal and a-contextual
remnants of the very processes that allowed the organism to survive and exist in the
present context. Pathologizing traumatic responses further adds obstacles to the pro-
cess of resilience, recovery, and resolution of trauma. Responding to the ghosts of
traumatic survival responses as a lingering of no longer necessary adaptive pro-
cesses rather than as pathology opens up options for care of others and self by
encouraging understanding rather than shame inducing judgments. Responding
from a place of compassionate understanding allows the “reader” and “text” an
opportunity to care for the ghosts and initiate a different set of responses. For
instance, rather than judging a person or self for dissociative disengagement trig-
gered by a sensation reminiscent of the traumatic event and reactivation of the dor-
sal vagal complex, compassionate and curious contextualized understanding offers
an opening in disconnection to identify the distressing sensation, name dissociative
disconnection as situationally adaptive and “rational” in the past event, and create
alternate space for reconnection to self, others, and the divine. The creation of alter-
native space occurs when there is adequate safety and compassionate care to iden-
tify the multitude of internal and relational resources that are present in individuals
as well as within traumatized communities. A hermeneutic of empathy, which pro-
vides a foundation for constructing a trauma sensitive theology, seeks to connect the
“text,” whether as manuscript, practice, or somatic and psychological experience,
with the “reader” or curiously engaged responder in order to open up new possibili-
ties for a new way of living in the world. Survivors of trauma don’t have the luxury
of returning to a pre-trauma before. Traumatic disruption and recovery requires the
creation of a new way of being.
A hermeneutic of empathy is a necessary precondition for constructing a trauma
sensitive theology that hopes to facilitate understanding and encourage resiliency.
However, trauma sensitive theology also requires utilization of a hermeneutic of
multiplicity in order to clearly perceive the multitude of adaptive resources avail-
able in the midst of the messiness of traumatic response. A hermeneutic of multi-
plicity takes seriously the presence and perspective of otherness that is highlighted,
rather than generated, in experiences of trauma and the creation of new ways of
being that are required by traumatic recovery and resiliency. “By this development
[aiming to grasp meaning that points towards a possible world, about its reference
to new worlds or new ‘modes-of-being-in-the-world’], the notion of otherness
entered the discourse of interpretation. When otherness is taken seriously, it encour-
ages a plurality of readings and acknowledges the otherness within the interpreter”
(Jackelén 2003). “Otherness within the interpreter” is a given of internal and rela-
tional multiplicity within discourses of understanding, meaning, as well as within
divine,3 communal, and personal identity. There are several models of psychother-
apy, including Internal Family Systems and Ego State Therapy,4 which assume psy-
chological multiplicity as both normative and healthy rather than indicative of
3
Trinity within the Christian traditions, polytheism in other traditions.
4
See Schwartz (1997) and Watkins and Watkins (1997).
100 J. Baldwin
pathological shattering or brokenness of psychological integrity. Therapeutically,

multiplicity is a feature of ‘good-enough’ human development and psychological
and identity dis-ease occur when there is internal conflict. The goal of therapy is the
well and harmonious working of the internal system of multiplicity rather than the
elimination of parts via “integration” or resolution.
Shifts towards adaptive multiplicity with associated critiques of hegemonic sin-
gularity is not limited to psychological theory and practice but are also present in
contemporary constructive theology and pastoral care.5 Theologian Laurel Schneider
traces the history and function of “the One”6 to establish and reinforce systems of
unilateral power and agency while highlighting what is at stake in a hermeneutic of
“the One.” She writes,
Oneness and unity, like all abstractions (including the abstraction of divine multiplicity) are
vulnerable to the fallacy of misplaced concreteness. Their usefulness makes it easy to forget
that they are concepts placed upon reality to sort its ontological multiplicity. No matter how
many times we may wish to lift our gaze from the cacophony of embodied existence toward
the serenity of unifying concepts in the hope of bringing closure to the world’s actual unruly
shiftiness, the attempt to construct a summary “after all” fails…Without the multiplicity of
matter, unity slips into ideology and begins to dream—noisily—of reductions, closures, and
totality…Although unity (even more than oneness) is an ingredient of sanity for human
beings, neither idea is adequate to conceptualize divinity, or world. It is out of the logic of
the One that Hell’s eternity was made, to squash the real multiplicity of divinity and world
into a basement closet of ice, and so to pretend that it is ‘in charge of the world’…This
dream of the One is a denial of incarnation and a serious error in theological thinking
(Schneider 2008).
Schneider’s understanding of the dynamic between the One and multiple corre-
spond with the awareness, goals, and perspective articulated in various strands of
‘parts’ psychotherapy and pastoral care.7 She correctly names multiplicity as not
only a hermeneutic but an ontological reality while also distinguishing “unity” from
“singularity.” In all cases of conceptual abstraction, there is a risk of losing connec-
tion with the reality that the concept is attempting to embrace. Leading with a
conception of normative singularity of identity, persons, communities, animals, or
apples misses out on the vast array of what is present in existing matter. Moreover,
it removes us from “the cacophony of embodied existence” in which resides the
messiness of the actual world. With regard for trauma sensitive theology, singularity
promotes acknowledgement of one strategy for engaging the world as the total and
sole option which necessarily diminishes the varieties of relational and responsive
strategies that each person possesses. In other words, trauma survivors may feel
damaged, wounded, broken, shamed or traumatized but they also may feel strong,
aware, compassionate, resourceful, somatically aware and wise. It is unwise and
potentially harmful to identify one emotional state or response as representative of
the whole. Multiplicity is all around us and offers resources for living from a
5
See, Pamela Cooper-White (2007, 2011), Keller and Schneider (2011), and Schneider (2008).
6
“[T]he One” is Schneider’s designation for the power granted to and through theological tradi-
tions of monotheism.
7
Pamela Cooper-White (2007, 2011).
position of in/corporeal cohesion. Cohesion of multiple parts/components, rather

than integration,8 honors the wise presence and graceful compassion that can emerge
from embracing multiplicity as identity, hermeneutic and ontology.
Encountering Power, Ab/Use of Relational Power, and Chaos
Hermeneutics of empathy and multiplicity which provide clarifying lenses in con-

structing a trauma sensitive theology presuppose relationship and relationships
always involve a negotiation of power between the relational parties. Relational
power, theologically and psychologically, boils down to an individual’s or group’s
ability to advocate for their own wellbeing and the agency to move towards flourish-
ing fulfillment. Power is not an all or nothing enterprise; it is fluid and present in
every living creature (or internal part). Relational power employed well and with
mutuality will contribute to the overall health, security and development of all rela-
tional parties. When misused and/or used unilaterally, relational power can become
destructive towards all participants.
One of the early rallying cries of second wave feminism in the United States was
“the personal is political.” At the time, the “political” realm was the primary realm
of power in need of alteration due to its role in systemic imbalances in personal
agency in health care and economic viability. The connection of the personal to the
political functioned as a way to dismantle the wall that existed between public space
with its power of voice and agency as the domain of men and personal space as the
domain of women. While the rhetoric of second wave feminism was primarily
framed in terms of biological sex difference and how that grants authority or
excludes a person from accessing systems of power and agency, the root of the
movement is about uses and misuses of power. Third wave feminism, due in large
part to the tremendous successes and critiques of second wave feminism, embrace a
more explicit multiplicity that includes persons of varying cultures and gender
expressions and identities rather than a structure of male/female binary. Consequently,
the aim of third wave feminism is to open up avenues for equal access to power for
all people for the purposes of living a sustainable and balanced flourishing life. In
other words, it asks: “whose voices are heard?”, “who has the power to make deci-
sions on behalf of others?”, “who benefits from the established economic and social
structures?”, “whose bodies matter and are systemically granted agency?”, “whose
bodies are regulated, dis/honored, or traumatized?”, and “whose questions set the
agenda for dialogue and research?” These questions echo the queries regarding
8
“Integration” as a psychological term and as a religion-and-science methodology are problematic
in that they tend towards the development of a singularity rather than a unity of multiplicity. While
I believe that “integration” could provide a fruitful image for trauma sensitive theology at some
point in the future, it first requires some intentional rehabilitation from its current usage that has
functioned to shame trauma survivors in the awareness and experience of internal multiplicity.
102 J. Baldwin
authoritative “texts” and all connect around issues of systemic power and inherent
vulnerability.
Engaging third wave feminism, or feminism more broadly, as a resource in reli-
gion and science dialogue can be challenging due to fundamental misunderstand-
ings of the core themes in feminist discourse. Feminism is not merely about what
sex organs a researcher was born with and how to rectify inherent power imbalances
in the research questions that get attention and funding by simply enlisting more
women in the sciences nor is it about teasing apart grammatical gender to claim that
the Holy Spirit is somehow a woman. Feminism’s contribution to religion and sci-
ence, as well as trauma sensitive theology as an expression of religion and science
discourse, is the same as its contribution to gender studies, political science, or
media studies…who holds, in the present moment, the upside of relational power
and how do they use it?
Trauma sensitive theology shares feminisms commitment towards mutually sus-
tainable uses of power: systemic, cultural, relational, and internal. Traumatic expe-
riences occur more frequently to populations that are socially vulnerable by virtue
of their race, class, sex, age, and/or sexual orientation; race, class, sex, age and ori-
entation are neither the cause of nor justification for traumatic victimization. Trauma
frequently occurs when there is an imbalance of relational power and that power is
used neglectfully or destructively and those with more relational power forsake their
responsibilities of care.9 Community leaders abuse their power to look after the
welfare of all the citizens by placing lower socioeconomic sub-communities in
areas that are more prone to risk. People engaged in military conflict abuse the
power of technology to construct destruction. Men, who are the overwhelming
(though not exclusive) perpetrators of sexual assault, abuse relational and social
power to meet their needs at the expense of their victims. The abuse of relational
power is possible due to social inequality or, in the case of children and the elderly,
physical and/or mental vulnerability. Trauma sensitive theology explicitly names
these ab/uses of relational power as sin.
One of the consequences of labelling traumatic responses as pathological or
“crazy” is a shifting of social responsibility from the perpetration of abuses of
relational power to the survivor. Instead of social rhetoric focusing on holding viola-
tors responsible for their actions and naming those actions as sin that separates the
person from self, community, and the divine, it tends to focus on the symptoms of
traumatic experiences as communally and relationally problematic (for example,
survivors as lacking the “existential foothold on life to become…generally happy
people”). This form of social response equates to blaming the victim for their bio-
psychological response to trauma while dismissing the actions of the person/s who
caused the traumatic situation. Feminists, as well as other liberation theologians,
seek to place responsibility for abuses of relational power on the parties with the
social and relational agency/power to misuse power. Again, the focus is more on
9
My understanding of trauma as an abuse of relational power is indebted to the work of James
Poling. For his articulation of the abuse of power, see James Newton Poling, The Abuse of Power:
A Theological Problem (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1991).
relational, political, economic and social power distribution and utilization than on
sexual binary identification.
Critical analysis of power becomes intertwined with sex classification and
gender identity (as well as race, class, and orientation) because historical and
contemporary social structures have been established so that power is more easily
granted to or obtained by particular individuals. Socio-religio-economic power is
then utilized to concretize systems of power and establish “order.” Jackelén notes
the connections that feminist theologians have made between theological concep-
tualizations of God, systems of social “order,” and a rejection/fear of fluidity,
multiplicity, and chaos. She writes, “Theologian Elizabeth Johnson, drawing on
feminist analysis, has suggested that it was the fear of chaos that motivated obses-
sion with order in God, and that this obsession with order supports hierarchical
and oppressive structures” (Jackelén 2003). Preoccupation with the perpetuation
of social order, especially at the expense of the full flourishing of individuals with
less social power, is indicative of the destructive elements of Schneider’s “the
One.” “Even if only half of this [Elizabeth Johnson’s connections among fear,
order and confessions about God] were right, it is still worth trying it the other
way round, at least in terms of a compelling thought experiment: embrace chaos!
It sounds creative” (Jackelén 2003).
Embracing chaos as an antidote to the destructive rigidity of systemic order is
not a new concept. It is the remedy offered by Nietzsche in the opening quotation
of this chapter. Nietzsche’s prescription supports the presence of creative chaos as
well as a foundational multiplicity in that he does not recommend the creation of
chaos but rather notes the chaos within that is already present in each individual.
This creative and productive internal chaos is not inherently destructive rather it
is the fluidity that is capable of birthing a “dancing star.” It is the generative power
that allows a person to break free of the hierarchical systems of order that yield
stagnation and blind permissiveness of traumatic abuses of relational power.
Chaos as a theological concept is most lovingly embraced in the “tehomic theol-
ogy of becoming” of Catherine Keller (2003). For Keller, chaos proceeds from the
heart of the creation narrative and encompasses all creative demands for justice
and mattering. In reflecting on the Big Bang or “Big Birth” (Keller 2003) of the
opening of the galaxy, she writes, “Virtue—religious or irreligious—calls our
gaze back to the streets, to meet a human scale of need with humane project. But
then: behold the chaos of suffering that bursts from the margins. Just try to focus
on a single issue. On ecology, economics, race, gender, sex…They all come flood-
ing in. Difference multiplies difference. These Others refuse to stay faceless.
Their eyes form galaxies” (Keller 2003). Keller’s chaosmos attends to suffering,
amplifies to the voices of the margins, opens up space for and through difference
and resists ontological, systemic, and relational closures that claim premature
knowing and power.
“Chaos,” in Keller’s capable and fluid hands, re/presents the best hopes of mutu-
ally stainable, honor/able and non-traumatic uses of relational power. However,
“chaos” can also be interpreted as destructively disorienting and decompensating.
104 J. Baldwin
This is the rendering utilized by Jackelén and many traumatology scholars.10

Jackelén writes, “Yet, as a reality we might not prefer chaos, even though chaos
theory has helped us understand how life processes work, and how the interplay of
chance and determinism can give birth to ordered structures without violation of the
second law of thermodynamics. But chaos is still chaos” (Jackelén 2003). Rather
than “chaos,” Jackelén, leaning on the paradigms of philosophy, offers “complex-
ity” as an alternative way of subverting hegemonic powers.11 Complexity, for
Jackelén, functions as a balanced midpoint between the extremes of rigidity and
destructive chaos, offers a parallel to optimal norms in the support of survivors of
traumatic experiences, and facilitates commitment to just distribution of power and
hermeneutics of empathy and multiplicity.
Engaging Cultural Traumatization and Somatic Wisdom
“Postmodernity,” as an academic term, is the poster child of multiplicity. It seems,

when one delves into literature across disciplines, that postmodernity is as varied as
it is enigmatic and contested. Some argue that postmodernity is an illusion and that
we have never been fully modern much less postmodern. Some view postmodernity
as a cultural period with clearly differentiated criteria, goals, and assumptions than
modernity. Jackelén posits that postmodernity is a helpful frame for engaging in
religion and science interdisciplinary discourse and “in its most constructive form
shares the best fruits of modernity… while at the same time avoiding some of its
most serious mistakes” (Jackelén 2003). Among the mistakes of modernity are
unfettered hopes in progress, confidence in assumptions based on “universals,” and
a trust in scientific conclusions. From the vantage point of trauma sensitive theology
which is attendant to the pervasiveness of secondary and cultural traumatization, it
is possible to view the salient features of postmodernity as a cultural form of post-
traumatic response. Postmodernity and posttraumatic response share a disruption of
prior assumptions, demand for contextuality, distrust of universally applicable inter-
pretations or experiences, and a questioning of rationality as the most authentic way
of knowing and being in the world. While there is a continuity between modernity
and postmodernity (Jackelén 2003), as Jackelén contends, it is a disrupted and sus-
picious continuity.
The juxtaposition of continuity and disruption point to the sense that while there
is consonance between modernity/postmodernity and pre-trauma/post-trauma there
10
Alan Schore notes in his editorial forward, “Posttraumatic states are filled with experiences of
rigidity or chaos that continue the devastation of trauma long past the initial overwhelming events.”
Trauma and the Body, xiv.
11
While Jackelén offers complexity as an alternative to chaos, she does so from a different frame
than the one Keller utilizes. My hunch is that Jackelén and Keller actually share many of the same
underlying commitments and the distinction in language is more a matter of audience and resources
than substance.
also exists a rupture that prevents a return to the before. We cannot go back to the
before—so, how do we move forward without losing what we knew and have since
learned? Jackelén offers a path,
Postmodern critique has trained us in healthy suspicion toward the big singulars of our
cultures and inspires us to experiment with plural forms. However, embracing the creativity
of play and plurality is not the same as ignoring rational structures. Quite the reverse, it is
depending on rationality, yet offering more….‘More than rationality’ would mean an
understanding of rationality beyond its merely epistemological character. It takes into
account the contextuality of rationality and its interrelatedness with emotions, intuition,
imagination and various contingencies. It is also critically aware of the fact that rationality
tends to carry ideological connotations that privilege certain ways of knowing over others
(Jackelén 2003).
Rational thought is an adaptive resource for living in the world; however, conso-
nant with a hermeneutic of multiplicity, it is not the only or, at times, most adaptive
resource. Recovery from traumatic experiences as well as fruitful living in a post-
modern/posttraumatic cultural milieu requires a multiplicity of ways of knowing
including an expansion into somatic and intuitive realms of knowing, understand-
ing, identifying social structures of privilege, and uses of relational power.
Somatic wisdom has historically been neglected at best and overtly discounted at
worst. The separation of mind/reason/rationality from bodily awareness and know-
ing is both unhealthy and hamstrings fullness of understanding. The folly of this
separation is noted in Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathusta at the conclusion of the
nineteenth century. He warns,
I want to speak to the despisers of the body. I would not have them learn and teach differ-
ently, but merely say farewell to their own bodies—and thus become silent….But the awak-
ened and knowing say: body am I entirely, and nothing else; and soul is only a word for
something about the body….The body is a great reason, a plurality with one sense, a war
and a peace, a herd and a shepherd. An instrument of your body is also your little reason…
which you call “spirit”—a little instrument and toy of your great reason….Behind your
thoughts and feelings… there stands a might ruler, an unknown sage—whose name is self.
In your body he [sic] dwells; he [sic] is your body. There is more reason in your body than
in your best wisdom (Nietzsche 1898/1995).
Nietzsche’s prophetic reclamation of body wisdom contra exclusive dependency

on reason highlights many of the features of the current views on body within psy-
chotherapy and traumatology. The Neitzschian view is most compatible with the
development of Somatic Internal Family Systems which fully embraces internal
multiplicity, internal leadership of the whole psychosomatic system by a wise, cen-
tered, compassionate, curious, and grounded Self, and the vast wisdom of the body
to house and communicate experience and understanding.12 It includes utilizing
“somatic awareness, conscious breathing, somatic resonance, mindful movement,
and attuned touch” as resources for becoming more fully aware of body wisdom. In
the area of traumatology, the body’s most fervent disciple and advocate has been
12
Somatic Internal Family Systems is developed, as a thread of IFS, by Susan McConnell as a
framework for psychotherapy and self-understanding. For more information, see www.embodied-
self.net
106 J. Baldwin
Bessel van der Kolk.13 Van der Kolk consistently promotes the role of the body in
surviving traumatic experiences and how the body’s systems store traumatic memo-
ries resulting in alterations of hormonal and neuronal baselines. These biological
and physiological shifts correspond to many of the psychological symptoms of trau-
matic response. Because “the body keeps score” it is also requires compassionate
attention in the resolution of traumatic processes.
The role of body in health and knowing is enjoying a renaissance in the current
postmodern era. This resurgence makes sense especially if attentively accessing
body memories, narratives, and wisdom is key for traumatic resolution and if post-
modernity is viewed as a form of cultural traumatization. Postmodernity, through
the lens of trauma sensitive theology, reveals the limitations of certain rationality.
Pure (disembodied) reason is both impossible and circumscribed. It is impossible
because consciousness, human or animal, resides in bodies and is largely informed
via sensation that is received via the mechanisms of the body and the bodily brain.
It is circumscribed because consciousness can only account for data it has received
via the senses.14 As Jackelén notes, attention to rational structure are not sufficient,
postmodernity requires attention to the importance of embodiment and embodied
knowledge. Embodied reason honors the role and wisdom of the body and illumi-
nates the path of recovery from trauma.
Waltzing with a Dancing Star
Trauma sensitive theology as a branch religion and science discourse requires care/
full attention to the messiness of life in the world. Ignoring the emotional, somatic,
relational, moral,15 and spiritual injuries inflicted by traumatic exposure is no longer
an option for communities who are tasked with care of self and others. Caring for
others requires empathic, attuned, and courageously active movement among a
community of individuals. Jackelén highlights this connection linking postmoder-
nity, community, and ethics. “Postmodernism is not satisfied with looking at the self
only. The (embodied) self is also a communal self. Consequently, postmodernism
claims that any body of knowledge and every social institution are marked by a call
from the other, a call that it either suppresses or encourages. This constitutes the
basis for the claim of postmodernism that ethics overcomes ontology” (Jackelén
13
Bessel van der Kolk is founder and director of the Trauma Center in Boston and has been at the
forefront of traumatology research and trauma therapy for 30 years. His article “The Body Keeps
Score” and subsequent monograph by the same title are keystones in clinical awareness of the
essential role of the body in surviving and processing traumatic events.
14
My use “senses” includes touch, taste, smell, hearing, and sight as well as proprioception, intero-
ception, and kinesthetic sensing.
15
Rita Nakashima Brock and Gabriella Lettini theologically and pastorally discusses the notion of
“moral injury” in her text Soul Repair: Recovering from Moral Injury after War (Boston: Beacon
Press, 2013).
2003). Antje Jackelén’s work as pastor, theologian, bishop, and, now, Archbishop
reflect, in the best way, a trauma sensitive theology’s commitment to interdisciplin-
ary, compassionate, and fluid theological construction that remains responsive to the
real needs of individuals, communities, and the environment that sustains all life.
The work of theological thought and articulation matter because it shapes the
language we utilize internally regarding all parts of our self and externally in the
care or dismissal of the experiences of others. “…[L]anguage is not an individual
but an interpersonal skill. It is learned only in interaction. ‘Language is,…as it were,
a net spread out between people, a net in which our thoughts and knowledge are
inextricably enmeshed’” (Jackelén 2003). Theological language is the net that sur-
rounds all of creation and the divine. If theological thinking abandons or patholo-
gizes traumatic experience, it creates holes in the net through which the church
dismissively abandons those most in need of divine and communal care and restora-
tion. While traumatic responses can be disarming and seemingly destructively cha-
otic, Nietzsche reminds us that chaos exists within us all and, when embraced, can
be the source or “text” of our most brilliant creativity.
References
Bradshaw, G.A. 2009. Elephants on the edge: What animals teach us about humanity. New Haven:
Yale University Press.
Brock, Rita Nakashima, and Gabriella Lettini. 2013. Soul repair: Recovering from moral injury
after war. Boston: Beacon.
Cooper-White, Pamela. 2007. Many voices: Pastoral psychotherapy in relational and theological
perspective. Minneapolis: Fortress Press.
Cooper-White, Pamela. 2011. Braided selves: Collected essays on multiplicity, god, and persons.
Eugene: Cascade Books.
Jackelén, Antje. 2003. The dialogue between religion and science: Challenges and future direc-
tions. Goshen: Pandora Press.
Jones, Serene. 2009. Trauma and grace: Theology in a ruptured world. Louisville: Westminster
John Knox Press.
Keller, Catherine. 2003. Face of the deep: A theology of becoming. New York: Routledge.
Keller, Catherine, and Laurel Schneider (eds.). 2011. Polydoxy: Theology of multiplicity and rela-
tion. London: Routledge Press.
Levine, Peter. 1997. Waking the tiger: Healing trauma. Berkley: North Atlantic Books.
Nietzsche, Friedrich. 1995. Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Trans. Walter Kaufmann. New York: The
Modern Library.
Poling, James Newton. 1991. The abuse of power: A theological problem. Nashville: Abingdon.
Rambo, Shelly. 2010. Spirit and trauma: A theology of remaining. Louisville: Westminster John
Knox Press.
Schneider, Laurel. 2008. Beyond monotheism: A theology of multiplicity. London: Routledge.
Schwartz, Richard. 1997. Internal family systems. New York: Guilford Publications, Inc.
Shooter, Shelly. 2012. How survivors of abuse relate to god: The authentic spirituality of the anni-
hilated soul. Burlington: Ashgate Publishing Company.
van der Kolk, Bessel. 2014. The body keeps score: Brain, mind, and body in the healing of trauma.
New York: Viking Penguin.
Watkins, John, and Helen Watkins. 1997. Ego states: Theory and therapy. New York: W. W.
Norton & Company.
108 J. Baldwin
Will, George. Colleges become the victims of progressivism. Washington Post. http://www.
washingtonpost.com/opinions/george-will-college-become-the-victims-of-progressivism/
2014/06/06/e90e73b4-eb50-11e3-9f5c-9075d5508f0a_story.html. Accessed 24 Mar 2015.
Jennifer Baldwin holds a doctorate in systematic theology with an emphasis in religion and sci-
ence from Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago. She is currently adjunct professor at Elmhurst
College, Executive Director and Clinician at Grounding Flight Wellness Center in Chicago,
Founder and Executive Director of Vertical Exploration Foundation, and Senior Editor of Vertical
Exploration: Journal of Pole and Aerial Movement Studies. Jennifer is ordained in the Baptist
tradition.
Chapter 9
Biocultural Wholes, Partial Perspectives, Path
Dependency and the Global Climate Change:
What’s Theology Got to Do with It?
Anne Kull
Abstract The Church of Sweden and its bishops have been active in the discus-
sions on climate change. Uppsala Interfaith Climate Manifesto. Church of Sweden,
2008. And “A Bishops’ letter about the climate: Bishops’ conference 2014”. Climate
change science is well developed and relatively coherent, regarding its theory and
methods. Theological as well as social scientific responses to the climate change
have been also numerous, often either listing the important failures or analyzing
costs and benefits of particular policies. Yet consensus is hard to achieve and in the
end, both scientists and theologians may feel that the whole problem is beyond our
rational understanding, a matter of belief rather than either a reliable science or a
matter of concern for responsible religious communities. I will approach climate
change as a “super wicked problem”: these are problems that lack a discrete solu-
tion or end point, that allow no immediate test of a potential solution, no opportunity
to learn by trial and error, etc. Institutions and states are like people: they do not
want to change. And the change has to be simultaneous: the individual members of
the churches (and states) must change, so that the institutions could change. All
religions, including Christianity, are about transformation and we could use our
available resources to trigger transformative decisions and mechanisms that will
keep us on the “narrow” and possibly inconvenient track.
Keywords Climate change • Anthropocene • Super wicked problem • Forward rea-

soning • Path dependent policy intervention
Many people are fixed in front of their TV sets when the daily weather forecast is
due. Others download various apps to be accompanied by the most update weather
information wherever they go and whenever they want. Most of our weather fore-
casts are received as if from a viewpoint of a God – from the satellite images,
A. Kull (*)
Faculty of Theology, University of Tartu, Tartu, Estonia
e-mail: annekull@hotmail.com

110 A. Kull
looking down at the earth, rather than the humans or other animals looking up at the
sky. Instead of celestial angels’ choirs, we hope that we get clear signals of com-
munication between our geostationary satellites and a variety of cybernetic and
optical innovations, and these technologies do produce often stunningly beautiful
but completely silent products. The sounds of wind and trees, insects and birds are
missing; neither do we see in the sky the familiar household of gods and goddesses,
mythic animals and stories connecting humans and stars. Now a new common story
which attempts to unite humans and the universe is emerging. It is fuelled by natural
sciences but the social sciences and the humanities need to be mobilized as well. We
may call it the birth of the Anthropocene at the wake of climate change, that is, the
awareness of the measurable extent to which human beings have been altering the
global environment. What used to be counted as “environmental” crisis has never
been without cultural and social components. A new human condition speaks of a
frail and vulnerable earth, and it speaks of a change in perspective. We are not just
enjoying the God’s eye view of the planet on our TV-screens but also literally
becoming an agent together with such phenomena as volcanic activity, natural
selection and tectonic movements in global environmental change.
Nature as “other” to the culture has been a recurring theme. We cannot do with-
out an idea of nature but we must find other ways, other relationships with nature
besides reification and possession. As Bruno Latour has taught us through his many
writings: we will see more and more heterogeneous actors at a greater and greater
scale and at ever bigger intimacy, requiring even more detailed care, by us as we
have become coextensive with the Earth. Culture-nature interplay became, and has
remained, a constant and outstandingly important aspect of all human situations.
We read every day about entanglements of all things that were once imagined to be
separable – science, morality, religion, law, technology, finance, and politics – just
read the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change reports and relevant discus-
sions. There is a widespread understanding that humans are faced with a critical and
narrowing window of opportunity – if we do not act, it will be too late to reverse or
to halt some of the key indicators involved in the natural-cultural crisis.
The climate change narrative is simple and difficult at the same time. The
Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change Report 2014 states that “human influ-
ence on the climate system is clear, and recent emissions of greenhouse gases are
the highest in history. … their effects, together with other anthropogenic drivers,
have been detected throughout the climate system and are extremely likely to have
been the dominant cause of the observed warming since the mid-20th century.
Continued emission of greenhouse gases will cause further warming and long-
lasting changes in all components of the climate system, increasing the likelihood
of severe, pervasive and irreversible impacts for people and ecosystems”. It has
been known for decades that the most negative impacts will deepen existing global
inequalities. But we do not know how to deepen our sense of justice and responsibil-
ity. We seem to know more about the “tipping points” for oil or fresh water than the
“tipping points” in cultural and religious practices.
On one level, the questions like, what we should do to act responsibly, has been
already answered. The diagnostic task, delegated to the scientists, is to establish the
9 Biocultural Wholes, Partial Perspectives, Path Dependency and the Global… 111
truth and scope of anthropogenic climate change. And then political and
technological responses have to be invented and proper policies established. And
indeed, the United Nations and the European Union have adopted the target of pre-
venting CO2 concentrations in the atmosphere rising above more than double that
of pre-industrial concentrations, in order to avoid a ‘dangerous’ temperature rise of
more than 2 °C, and binding international agreements have been sought at Kyoto
and Copenhagen. There are examples of countries, like Germany: in 2013 in Berlin
83 % of participating voters cast their ballots in favor of switching to a publicly
owned power utility based eventually on 100 % renewable energy –although not
enough people turned out to vote for the decision to be binding, the referendum
made public opinion quite clear, in 2011 Germany decided to phase out nuclear
power by 2022 in the wake of Fukushima disaster. However, the emissions actually
went up in 2012–2013 from the previous year (probably because the same decision
was not made to phase out coal) or towns that strive for energy democracy, e.g. in
Boulder, Colorado where desire to reduce the city’s impact on the planet led to
energy privatization reversal to public ownership, in order to have a say on the mat-
ters of energy.1
There are other proposals, ranging from behavior-change policies aimed at indi-
vidual citizens, through calls for investment in and regulatory encouragement of
renewable energy, biofuels, nuclear power, and carbon capture and storage tech-
nologies, high technology proposals such as synthetic biology and the geoengineer-
ing of oceanic and atmospheric processes. Climate change is framed mainly as a
technological problem and far from offering a firm basis for taking of responsibility,
is in fact engendering its own forms of irresponsibility.
Although awareness of the magnitude of the problem of anthropogenic climate
change has grown, the international community has been unable to mount an effec-
tive response. Climate change has continued to be a highly contentious and polar-
izing issue in the United States and Europe, fueled by the efforts of conservative
think tanks to disseminate skeptical views and outspoken skepticism of many opin-
ion leaders. In the International arena, conflicts and controversies – largely reflect-
ing the divergent needs and interests of developing and industrialized countries – have
continued to obstruct meaningful progress. Delays in policy-making and gover-
nance make it all the more essential that non-governmental institutions and actors
take action. A number of scholars have argued that the world’s religions could play
an important role in this regard (Grim and Tucker 2014).
Social science research has been adding their resources to our understanding of
the climate change, contextualizing the claims, describing the quantitative and qual-
itative differences in the human impacts on the planetary systems. From social sci-
ences comes also an attempt to conceptualize the global environmental problem as
“super wicked” problem. Rittel and Webber in 1973 described “wicked problems“.
1
Noami Klein lists many examples in her book This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. The
Climate (Allan Lane, an imprint of Penguin Books, 2014). However, her ideological stance
excludes variety of possible responses, and thus in the end may rather work against the intended
goal to slow down the climate change.
112 A. Kull
These are problems that lack simplistic or straightforward planning responses. But
as most contemporary social problems are wicked, Levin et al. introduced the term
“super wicked“ to characterize the new class of global environmental problems that
comprise four additional key features Rittel and Webber did not consider: time is
running out, the central authority needed to address them is weak or non-existent,
those who cause the problem also seek to create a solution and hyperbolic discount-
ing occurs that pushes responses into the future when immediate actions are required
to set in train longer-term policy solutions (Levin et al. 2012).
Do the super wicked problems fit into the class of lost causes? The super wicked
problems require greater attention to the generation of “path dependent” policy
interventions. Nature needs our constant care, our undivided attention, our costly
instruments, our thousands of scientists, our huge institutions, careful funding etc.
Matters of fact must give way to the matters of concern and nurture. Levin, Cashore
et al. argue that scholars of global and domestic environmental governance and
policy ought to devote greater energy to identifying policy options that directly
address the human tendency toward hyperbolic discounting – i.e. the tendency to
discount the future even more than what is deemed economically rational. They
argue that such an effort requires a new epistemological orientation that delivers
greater attention to understanding which policy choices “constrain our future
selves.” The public discourse on natural limits and constraints is not new, but now it
is connected fundamentally with planetary boundaries, particularly the effects of
human action on the oceans, the atmosphere, species, and soil.
1. Time is running out
In case of complex social and political problems, even if the action fails once or
several times, in principle it is possible to return to the problem, with different
results (e.g. the 1993 the initiative to legislate the universal healthcare in the USA
failed but now, the Obamacare may end with a different results).
In case of the super wicked problem, such as climate change, we don’t have
luxury to come back later and try again. The political systems have their own logic
and ways to response to the problems, the Earth has its own ways to response that
stakeholders (all of us) and governments cannot wish away. Humans can control
their behavior to alter their impacts, but they cannot control the response of the natu-
ral system once a decision is made. The Earth is the final arbiter of whether policy
responses are appropriate.
Significant impacts will occur, with each passing year they become more acute,
the risk of harm to human communities and ecosystems, as well as non-linear
change and catastrophic events, increases. We seem to have only a small window of
time to deviate from the carbon-intensive trajectory. The limits of ecological resil-
ience of the planet is a different kind of limit, compared with the limits of one or
other resource.
2. No central authority
In the case of climate change, decision makers within public authorities do not
control all the choices that need to be made in order to alleviate pressures on the
climate. This problem adds to the general problem of cooperation under anarchy
that characterizes any global problem. Responses to climate change require coordi-
nation not just among states, themselves in a variety of different circumstances, but
also across different economic sectors and policy subsystems at multiple political
levels that contribute to the problem.
3. Those seeking to end the problem are also causing it
Every concerned person trying to reduce climate change has contributed to cli-
mate change. Everyday activities, including vastly higher per capita emissions in
industrialized countries, are major culprits. Unlike other environmental problems
with discrete antagonists and protagonists, human-induced climate change results
from individual and collective activities at multiple scales, as well as marketplace
activities. While individuals can choose to switch to non-fossil fuel generated
power, buy efficient vehicles or lower consumption of carbon-intensive goods,
many of our daily activities will still result in greenhouse gas emissions. The side-
effects of our positive acts do not become visible as quickly and visibly as the side-
effects of our negative acts.
4. Hyperbolic discounting
Behavioral economists have observed the psychological tendency of individuals
when deliberating over some problems to discount the future even beyond what the
economic tool of the discount rate suggests is rational. This concern goes beyond
one’s position on the debate over neo-classical cost-benefit analyses on what consti-
tutes the “rational“ discount rate or its use as a guide as to whether climate change
can or should be addressed.
Scholarship on hyperbolic discounting, however, has noted that individuals and
firms that recognize it can counteract it. That is, they can create or institutionalize
policies or practices today to “constrain their future selves.”
Applied Forward Reasoning
Interest in applying the role of path dependency for developing long-term interven-
tions capable of addressing climate change as a super wicked problem has gained
increasing attention. Most policies and theories employed to explain or counteract
climate change, have been developed out of research on single-issue regimes with
clear goals (e.g. protect endangered species). But super wicked problems occur in
open, non-linear systems where human beings may interact in reflective and unpre-
dictable ways to change their environment. In addition, the nature of super wicked
problems makes the utility of the usual backward looking method of prediction
highly questionable. A research strategy with the aim of finding general explana-
tions is simply ill-advised given that super wicked problems are defined by their
unique character. A more appropriate research goal is to identify possible policy
interventions and reason forward to how the problem and interventions might unfold
114 A. Kull
over time. Forward-looking policy analysis ought to be “…interested in other pos-

sible and likely futures, and in determining the ways in which our actions and the
actions of others contribute – sometimes via unintended effects and consequences –
to making some of them real.” (Patomäki 2006).
Forward-reasoning method, or scenario building recognizes contingency, the
need to consider multiple alternative futures, and the development of plausible plot
lines, based on contingent causal mechanisms and critical uncertainties. That is,
social sciences could, rather than engage in prediction, to identify and connect
chains of contingencies that could shape the future, in this way becoming more
similar to evolutionary thinking. An applied research should explicitly link explana-
tory work to prescriptive solutions. Thus, while recognizing that there are risks that
any intervention may lead to unintended consequences, the purpose of an ‘applied
forward reasoning’ approach is to identify ways in which interventions might lock
in2 particular policy pathways.
Path-Dependently into the Anthropocene?
There is increasing discussion about whether we may have entered a new unit of
geological time, one in which human beings are such a major determining force on
the Earth that the unit should be named after them. Up until now, the latest chapter
in the book of geochronology has been the Holocene, the most recent division, or
epoch, of the Quaternary period. The earlier epoch in the Quaternary was the
Pleisocene, starting about 2.588 Ma, with its oscillation between glacial and inter-
glacial periods. The Holocene, which started about 12 Ka, around the time that
humans started clearing forests for agriculture, has been a long period of unusually
clement and stable climate. But since the late nineteenth century a number of authors
attempted to articulate the idea that the system of the Earth might have entered a
radically new state, one in which humans had become a major planetary force.
Thus, for example, we had in turn Stoppani’s notion of the ‘anthropozoic era’
(1873), Vernadsky, Le Roy, and Teilhard de Chardin’s ‘noosphere’ (1922), Revkin’s
‘anthrocene’ (1992), and Samway’s ‘homogenocene’ (1999).
Jan Zalaciewicz et al. (2010) is heading the committee to name the geological
period Antropocene. The name is disputed, as well as the dates. But the termino-
logical innovation of geologists and biochemists seem to indicate quite a new
approach to the nature and culture. For a few decades literary critics and anthropolo-
gists, theologians and semioticians have been talking about biocultural and nature-
cultures. Now a proposal for a connection between human and nonhuman is coming
2
Lock-in often occurs where an intervention immediately gains durability, often by some type of
immediate benefit where, once initiated, a specific population is highly vested in maintaining the
intervention and would be significantly harmed by its removal. One cause of lock-in can be traced
to interventions that have large fixed costs. Another cause of lock-in can be traced back to the
institutional rules of the game that render change difficult to initiate.
not from the soft humanitarian sciences, not from the adepts in symbols and
metaphors but from the natural sciences. The Anthropocene is not the old anthropo-
centrism written large but rather the reading of the signs from biochemistry, rock
formation, ecosystems, climate change – as well as changes registered by other dis-
ciplines, including patterns of land use, migrations of plants, animals and people,
city life, demography and epidemiology.
Palsson, Szerszynski et al. have pointed perhaps to the most pressing task: how
to facilitate the transition to a fully Anthropocene society during a period in which
the prevailing social values and institutions are still those of an earlier epoch (2013).
How to get beyond the disconnection between insight and action? This is a chal-
lenge to the humanities and social sciences. This is a challenge the Swedish Lutheran
Bishops have responded to with an admirable thoughtfulness and depth. We cannot
dwell forever in the despair about our political systems and our own indeciseveness,
we need courage and hope, knowledge and motivation to be able to act.
The Anthropocene is full of ambiguities, the climate, the geophysical processes
have been brought indoors, into the household of the Anthropos, prosthetically
enhanced with their technologies. The cyborgs are humans who became aware of
our symbiosis and dependency on all kinds of technologies, now the cyborgs are
becoming conscious of their geological role and their role on climate change. Is the
Anthropocene the apotheosis or the end of human exceptionalism? Is this the age of
the humanization of the planet or of the planetization of the human? If the anthro-
pological and the geological have collided and fused in some metamorphic process,
from where will we get our bearings?
The two most obvious paths for humanity in the Anthropocene both seem deeply
problematic. Some argue that we must take control over the planet, become what
Mark Lynas (2011) calls the God Species, using high technology such as climate
engineering and biotechnology to manage the Earth and its systems. Others argue
that we should reign in our technological impact on the environment so as to allow
nature to restore some kind of balance – to return to nature. As always, these seem-
ingly obvious responses are not sufficient, not to say that downright wrong.
We have to find the third way how to sail on the middle course between hybristic
advance and nostalgic retreat. Bruno Latour has stated that the Earth has taken back
all the characteristics of a full-fledged actor, it has become again an agent of history,
or rather geostory. The question is how to share agency with other subjects that have
also lost their autonomy? The Earth is not a modernist autonomous agent, and nei-
ther is the human (the cyborg). The Anthropocene is the result of this distributed
agency of all its constituent organisms and parts.
The Anthropocene is leading us not up to the spiritual or intellectual truths but
down towards material truths – not to an abstract singular nature but to the multiple
beings, to the Earth, to the ground. The Anthropocene is a time in which the
Anthropos must recognize that s/he cannot act in isolation, can no longer isolate
her/himself by the force from the nonhumans. The sciences of the Earth and bio-
chemistry have exposed the illusions of human mastery in a way that can be mea-
sured, not just discussed. Yet natural scientists need to work together with
116 A. Kull
philosophers and theologians, social scientists and humanitarians to articulate the

directions and theorize the conditions of social and individual change.
For “thinking the Anthropocene” we may find rich resources from cultural ecol-
ogy, ecological economics, ecolinguistics etc. We have also rich theological
resources, both in the historical theology as well as in more recent ecofeminist the-
ology. Directions for constraining our future selves must reach the members of the
churches as well as other citizens. Nature, God, climate change or objective knowl-
edge do not unify all the people of the Earth automatically, and it is not necessary.
But we do need small steps of hope, examples of beneficial practices that could
“lock-in” and some hard thinking about our intellectual heritage that has for so long
depended on the dualism of nature and culture, subjects and objects, immanent and
transcendent. Considering that the causes and impacts of climate change are increas-
ingly related to human activity, it is more important than ever to study human
behavior, human-environment interactions, how and what we teach to our children
and students and how to cope also psychologically with the nagging feeling that we
are powerless to change anything.
Here the 2014 Bishops’ Letter3 to the Swedish Lutheran church and citizens is
perhaps one of the most powerful and concrete pastoral statements available, and
we have to thank Antje along with other Swedish bishops for it.
References
Grim, John, and Mary Evelyn Tucker. 2014. Ecology and religion, Foundations of contemporary
environmental studies series. Washington, DC: Island Press.
IPCC. 2014. Climate change 2014: Synthesis report. Contribution of Working Groups I, II and III
to the fifth assessment report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, Core Writing
Team, ed. R.K. Pachauri and L.A. Meyer, Geneva: IPCC.
Klein, Naomi. 2014. This changes everything: Capitalism vs the climate. New York: Simon &
Schuster.
Levin, K., B. Cashore, S. Bernstein, and G. Auld. 2012. Overcoming the tragedy of super wicked
problems: Constraining our future selves to ameliorate global climate change. Policy Sciences
45(2): 123–152. doi:10.1007/s11077-012-9151-0.
Lynas, Mark. 2011. The God species: Saving the planet in the age of humans. Washington, DC:
National Geographic.
Palsson, Gisli, Bronislaw Szerszynski, et al. 2013. Reconceptualizing the ‘Anthropos’ in the
Anthropocene: Integrating the social sciences and humanities in global environmental change
research. Environmental Science & Policy 28: 3–13.
Patomäki, Heikki. 2006. Realist ontology for future studies. Journal of Critical Realism 5(1):
1–31.
Rittel, H.W.J., and M.M. Webber. 1973. Dilemmas in a general theory of planning. Policy Sciences
4(2): 155–169.
Zalaciewicz, Jan, Will Steppen Williams, and Paul Crutzen. 2010. The new world of the anthropo-
cene. Environmental Science and Technology 44(7): 2228–2231.
3
A Bishops’ letter about the climate. Bishops’ conference 2014 (PDF available in the internet).
Anne Kull is since 2005 Professor of Systematic Theology at the University of Tartu, Estonia.
She studied at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago (Ph.D. in 2000), and her interest has
been since then science, technology, religion and culture. In 2001 she founded the Collegium of
Science and Religion at the University of Tartu.
Chapter 10
Some Practical and Ethical Challenges Posed
by Big Data
Michael Fuller
Abstract ‘Big Data’ is a term that has been coined to describe the very large
datasets that may be accrued through the use of modern computers. The collection
and analysis of big data, and its presentation to others, raise a number of important
questions, notably ethical questions, which impinge on the lives of citizens. The
Churches, not least through their engagement with scholarship in the area of science
and religion, are uniquely placed both to raise these questions, and to engage with
data scientists in addressing them.
Keywords Big data • Data scientist • Hermeneutics • Ethics • Interpretation •

Science and religion
Introduction
It is a pleasure and an honour to contribute to a publication celebrating the person

and the work of Archbishop Antje Jackelén. As someone who has warmly
embraced – and been warmly embraced by – both Church and Academy, through
her work as a priest, bishop and archbishop and through her involvement in
Universities on both sides of the Atlantic, it seems appropriate to explore an area
which is of concern both to those working in the fields of science and religion, and
also of concern to those to whom the Churches minister.
It is not unusual for a Church to speak out on ethical issues: indeed, the Bishops
of Sweden have recently addressed the issue of climate change,1 whilst in the UK
the Bishops of the Church of England recently spoke out about social issues in
1
‘A Bishops’ Letter About The Climate’, Church of Sweden Bishops’ Conference, Uppsala 2014:
www.svenskakyrkan.se/biskopsmotet (accessed 15 February 2015).
M. Fuller (*)
Department of Divinity, New College, University of Edinburgh, Edinburgh, UK
e-mail: Michael.fuller@ed.ac.uk

120 M. Fuller
advance of a general election.2 Since many ethical dilemmas in the present-day arise
through the application of science and technology, Churches need to be in dialogue
with the sciences so that their responses to such dilemmas can be properly informed.
This paper sets out a range of ethical issues that arise from the arrival on the con-
temporary scene of ‘Big Data’. The use of big data has been described as a new
science, requiring a new kind of scientist (cf. Mohanty et al. 2013: Chap. 9); and so
it would appear to be opportune for those who are concerned with ethical issues
around the application of science to be focussing on the issues it raises, engaging in
discussion with those who deal with big data, and (if it is judged appropriate) urging
the case for legislation in order to protect citizens from any undesirable encroaching
of big data usage in their lives.
What Is Big Data?
The massive expansion of computers in all walks of life has led to the possibility of
the creation and storage of vast amounts of information. This is increasing at an
unprecedented rate: ‘Every two days we create as much digital content as we did
from the dawn of civilisation until 2003 – that’s about five exabytes3 of information,
with only two billion people out of a possible seven billion online’ (Schmidt and
Cohen 2013: 253). To give a concrete example:
When the Sloan Digital Sky survey began in 2000, its telescope in New Mexico collected
more data in its first few weeks than had been amassed in the entire history of astronomy.
By 2010 the survey’s archive teemed with a whopping 140 terabytes4 of information. But a
successor, the Large Synoptic Survey Telescope in Chile, due to come on stream in 2016,
will acquire that quantity of data every five days (Mayer-Schönberger and Cukier 2013: 7).
Against this rapidly-changing background, the definition of ‘big’ is difficult. One

understanding of big data is that it is characterised by ‘Three Vs’: volume, variety
and velocity (i.e. the speed with which it is generated and gathered) (Laney 2012).
A more pragmatic definition is that ‘big data refers to the datasets that could not be
perceived, acquired, managed, and processed by traditional IT and software/
hardware tools within a tolerable time’ (Chen et al. 2014: 2).
At one level, then, we are simply dealing with a quantitative phenomenon: huge
amounts of data are now being acquired, whereas in the past the tools and equip-
ment we use were only capable of generating relatively small amounts of it. At
another level, it is suggested that the sheer quantities of data involved are producing
a ‘step change’: with the arrival of big data we face qualitative changes in the ways
in which we are obliged to deal with the data now at our disposal.
2
‘Who Is My Neighbour? A Letter from the House of Bishops to the People and Parishes of the
Church of England for the General Election 2015’, www.churchofengland.org/GeneralElection2015
(accessed 15 February 2015).
3
An exabyte is 1018 bytes.
4
A terabyte is 1012 bytes.
10 Some Practical and Ethical Challenges Posed by Big Data 121
There are a number of issues around big data, from those concerning practical
issues over the collection and interpretation of such data sets to those particular
ethical dilemmas which are presented when the data concerns human subjects. We
may consider such issues as being, on the one hand, concerned with the ethical
practice of big data collection and analysis (jus in scientia, to coin a phrase), and on
the other with the proper presentation of conclusions drawn by experts from their
analyses to the wider world (jus ad saeculum).
Big Data and Data Scientists: Jus in Scientia
A number of issues have been identified as important in the ethical conduct of

science generally, which would of course apply to the work of data scientists:
honesty, openness, giving credit where it is due, working within the bounds of the
law, declaring conflicts of interest, and so on (cf. Resnik 1998). In addition to these,
there are particular issues that must be addressed if an ethical approach is to be
taken to data science.
(i) Practical Issues: The Capture and Storage of Big Data
In some circumstances, the amount of data being gathered is potentially so vast that,
even with today’s computers, only some of it is retrieved and stored. For example,
it is reckoned that ‘the CERN particle physics laboratory in Switzerland collects
less that 0.1 % of the information that is generated during its experiments – the rest,
seemingly of no use, is left to dissipate into the ether’ (Mayer-Schönberger and
Cukier 2013: 197). Obviously, there is a practical consideration here: the capacity
to store data is limited, and since the scientists working at CERN have particular
aims in mind as they conduct their research they will view some data as having a
bearing on their work and some as not, and discard the latter. But it should be noted
that this practical necessity might well be building in a bias as far as the data is
concerned. Suppose some future development – possibly a paradigm-altering one –
causes these researchers to view their work from a fresh perspective: how much will
have been lost with the information that has been allowed to ‘dissipate into the
ether’? Indeed, does the non-retention of that data mean that anything unexpected is
ignored – is there a risk that scientists take a ‘blinkered’ approach to their work,
focussing on a narrow set of problems, and lose thereby a broader picture
which might allow a more nuanced understanding of their work, or even a radical
re-evaluation of it? It has been commented that ‘Big Data will not help advance
science if analysts preferentially draw [or, we might add, select] data to support
their previously held biases’ (Berman 2013: 146).
In addition to this caveat around the selection of big data at the point of its
generation, there are at least two major issues around the storing of large quantities
122 M. Fuller
of data: the anonymisation of personal information, if this forms part of the data-set
being stored, and ensuring that it can only be accessed by those authorised to do so.
It is standard practice to anonymise or ‘deidentify’ data held on individuals when
this is to be used for research: deidentification is described as ‘the process of
stripping information from a data record that might link the record to the public
name of the record’s subject’ (Berman 2013: 28). This serves both ‘to protect the
confidentiality and privacy of the individual’ and ‘to remove information that might
bias the experiment’ (ibid.: 31). However, a problem arises when data on one
individual is held within a number of datasets, some (but perhaps not all) of which
have been deidentified, since it then becomes possible to correlate data from differ-
ent datasets and hence to reattribute a person’s identity: ‘deidentification is easy to
break when deidentified data can be linked to a name in an identified database
containing fields which are included in both databases’ (Berman 2013: 197). There
are therefore issues around the storage of personal data even in deidentified data-
bases: it may be that no ways of making correlations with other datasets can be
perceived at present, yet there always remains the possibility that in future data
permitting such correlations may become available.
Furthermore, the security of databases will always be an issue. Even Schmidt
and Cohen, in their generally upbeat assessment of the potential of ‘connectivity’
and the data it generates, acknowledge that ‘[n]ear-permanent data storage’ means
that ‘[t]he possibility that one’s personal content will be published and become
known one day – either by mistake or through criminal interference – will always
exist’ (Schmidt and Cohen 2013: 55). Whether for commercial, political or
mischievous ends, it is always possible that hackers may target computer systems
containing big datasets, and release confidential information into the public domain
(a few months prior to writing this paper, such an attack by hackers took place on
Sony Pictures, resulting in the publication of much private information). Computer
security systems (like any other security systems) will be in constant need of
updating to keep ahead of those with malicious designs on the material they are
protecting, which is a labour-intensive and expensive business. And this is a task not
just for commercial concerns but for governments as well: according to Schmidt
and Cohen, ‘It’s fair to say that we’re already living in an age of state-led cyber war,
even if most of us aren’t aware of it. Right now, that government of a foreign
country could be hacking into your government’s databases, crashing its servers or
monitoring its conversations’ (Schmidt and Cohen 2013: 104). Nations, as well as
individuals, are potentially at risk in ways about which the majority of their citizens
will know or understand very little.
(ii) Access to Big Data
It is a commonplace that scientific experiments are repeatable: that when such

experiments are published in a scientific journal or thesis, sufficient information is
given for other researchers to test the results which are being reported. Issues clearly
arise when such information is commercially sensitive; and this has led at least one
author to a gloomy prognosis concerning the use of big data. Addressing the
question of whether big data will be ‘open (to the public) or closed (to all but the
data owners)’, Berman comments: ‘I am sad to say that the most indicators point to
a future where valuable information is private information. Information available to
the public will be a subset of existing data, selected to achieve a commercial or
political agenda’ (2013: 224).
What happens when results are presented with insufficient indication of their
provenance? In an analysis of the shortcomings of one high-profile big data project,
Google Flu Trends (which seeks to predict flu outbreaks in the USA by analysing
the terms users submit to the Google search engine), it was pointed out that ‘Even if
one had access to all of Google’s data, it would be impossible to replicate the
analysis of the original paper from the information provided regarding the analysis’
(Lazer et al. 2014: 1205). If such lack of transparency were to become acceptable
(or even the norm) in reporting the work of data scientists, meaning that their
analyses could not be repeated by other parties, then a challenge would be thrown
down to the very nature of science as it has previously been understood.
(iii) Big Data and Human Subjects
Consider three examples of ways in which data may be gathered from human
subjects. First, I might browse a retail site like Amazon and make purchases there-
from. Second, I might have information about my health recorded as I visit my local
doctor, or am admitted to hospital, or take part in clinical trials. Third, information
about my geographical location and my personal contacts may be recorded through
the use I make of my mobile phone.
All of these data-gathering opportunities may be of interest, for a variety of
reasons. A company like Amazon, through monitoring my browsing and my
purchases, can suggest things I might like to buy in future: indeed, it is reckoned
that a third of Amazon’s sales are generated in this way (Mayer-Schönberger and
Cukier 2013: 52). The analysis of my health records, in conjunction with those of
many others, may suggest that I fall into an ‘at risk’ category for a disease or some
other condition, enabling me to be informed about appropriate action with regard
to medication or lifestyle choices to minimise that risk: it may also permit research
to be undertaken to further our understanding of conditions for which there is, as
yet, no treatment available. If I am considered to be any kind of security threat, then
the monitoring of my movements and my communications may be of great interest
to the security services.
All these instances raise the question of consent: can, or should, my assent be
acquired for the storage and use of data about me for these purposes? Amazon’s
privacy policy, describing the uses to which information given to it by its customers
may be put, is available on its website and consent to this policy is effectively
assumed when the website is used. Anyone who is involved in medical experimental
124 M. Fuller
procedures, either in themselves or through the giving of samples (e.g. blood

samples) for analysis, will be required to give their informed consent as a matter of
course (see British Medical Association 2012: 59–63).
Suppose, though, that I give a blood sample as part of a particular research
programme in which I am happy to participate. The information derived from that
sample (concerning genetic markers, say) may be retained, and may potentially be
re-used in future for research completely unrelated to that for which my sample was
originally obtained. This might be something I would not have given consent for,
had it been known about when I gave my sample; but it might also be research
which had not even been contemplated at that time. (Precisely this situation
occurred in the U.S.A., when samples obtained from a native American tribe with a
high prevalence of type II diabetes, with a view to investigating that condition, were
subsequently used for research into schizophrenia. An ensuing legal case was
settled out of court, with the investigators concerned compensating the tribe and
returning their samples; however, no legal precedent for dealing with cases of this
kind was set (see Berman 2013: 198–199).
It is the possibilities afforded by big data, allowing for the storage of huge
quantities of personal information, which give rise to this dilemma. One possible
solution to it would be for consent to be obtained at the time when a sample is given
for broad and unspecified future use of the sample; however, how could any consent
given under such circumstances be deemed ‘informed’? Alternatively, separate
consent might be sought for every future use of a sample, at the time when that use
is made; however, this is a procedure which would be lengthy and costly to admin-
ister, and which might raise a raft of further questions. For example, if a person has
died since giving a sample, should the consent of any living relatives be sought for
its use? (In the U.K. the retention at Alder Hey hospital of tissue and organs from
children who had died, without the consent of those children’s parents, caused a
huge scandal when it came to light in 1999, leading to a public enquiry and the
subsequent enactment of the Human Tissue Act 2004.5)
Mayer-Schönberger and Cukier (2013: 173) have suggested that a ‘privacy
framework for the big-data age’ should focus ‘less on individual consent at the time
of collection and more on holding data users accountable for what they do’, although
this in itself raises new questions regarding how such accountability should be set
out, and how (in an international research context) it might be policed.
When thinking about issues around personal freedom, most users of the internet
will probably have few objections to their online purchases being used to make
recommendations to them for future shopping. However, the extent to which per-
sonal data can now be retained and used, often without a person’s knowledge, is
alarming (cf. Goldacre 2014). And whilst many might see the monitoring of private
communications, internet access, and so on by the security services as a price worth
paying for the information that might thereby be gleaned about potential terrorist
5
The summary and recommendations of the Alder Hey enquiry may be found at https://www.gov.
uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/250914/0012_i.pdf (accessed 19
February 2015).
activity (for example), questions remain about the extent of such activity, its
authorisation, and its monitoring. It might be argued that citizens of a state are
subject to the policies and enforcement put in place by a government that is account-
able to the electorate; but what about governments that are not thus accountable?
And, given the pressures which any government will be under, what about the
devolving of such enforcement to more-or-less secret agencies, which are not
publicly accountable in the same way?
Big Data and the Wider Community: Jus ad saeculum
It has been urged that dealing with big data requires a new kind of scientific
practitioner: the data scientist. Such a scientist has been defined as ‘a person who
takes raw materials (in this case data) and uses skill, knowledge and vision to craft
it into something of unique value’ (Mohanty et al. 2013: 253). This brings us to the
important question of the interpretation of big data. Berman makes the important
point that ‘When the amount of data is sufficiently large, you can find almost
anything you seek lurking somewhere within; the found observations may have
statistical significance without having any significance in reality’ (Berman 2013:
145). It is here, perhaps, that the ‘skill’ identified as a key characteristic for data
scientists comes into play; and a part of that skill will be related to a hermeneutical
engagement with the data under consideration. I have suggested elsewhere (Fuller
2015) that there is a significant potential for dialogue between theologians and data
scientists over this issue of hermeneutics.
The importance of interpretation of big data is two-fold. On the one hand, data
will need to be interpreted for those with a commercial interest in exploiting it. On
the other, it will need to be interpreted for the wider public, to ensure that the public
interest is best served by it. To use a very crude, hypothetical example: one dataset
might show that a particular healthcare product (say, a hay-fever remedy) sells
particularly well at a particular time of year, whilst another dataset might show that
the actual effect of this product on those who use it is minimal. The commercial
value of this information would be in its suggestion that sales of the product be
targeted to particular months; but there is also an ethical imperative to acknowledge
the data on the product’s efficacy. Data scientists have a responsibility to ensure that
their findings are understood and disseminated accurately, regardless of financial
issues; and this will doubtless not always be a responsibility which it is straightforward
to discharge, particularly if they are employed by companies with vested interests in
particular outcomes being obtained through the application of big data.
There is another important jus ad saeculum issue which is perhaps beyond the
remit of data scientists, but which is presented by big data: who can benefit from it?
This paper so far has focussed on a number of problematic issues to which big
data gives rise; but it is undoubtedly the case that there are ways of using big data to
positive effect. An interesting paper by Davenport and Dyché (2013) gives a number
of examples of businesses which have used big data to streamline their operations in
126 M. Fuller
various ways, thereby benefitting both themselves and their customers. The use of
big data in scientific research contexts (including medical contexts) offers many
potential benefits, both to those who consent to the use of data they supply and to
others. It has been asserted that ‘with the spread of connectivity and mobile phones
around the world, citizens will have more power than at any other time in history,
but it will come with costs, particularly to both privacy and security’ (Schmidt and
Cohen 2013: 255); however, many might consider the convenience of such connec-
tivity to be a perfectly reasonable trade-off for any personal information that is
gleaned through their use of their mobile devices. All this, though, raises another
ethical issue, which is that in an increasingly global context, not everyone will have
access to these benefits. The potential disenfranchisement of people who do not
have access to this technology, and to the benefits which it can bring, may be another
cause for concern which it behoves us to address.
Possible Responses to Big Data
Let us, in conclusion, return to the question of how institutions that are in a position
to lobby for the general good, like Churches, may respond to some of the challenges
outlined in this paper.
We have already noted (in the Alder Hey case) that one response to bad practice
is the enactment of legislation aimed at preventing future occurrences of it. It may
be that legislation is required to protect citizens from some of the potential invasions
of privacy to which the exploitation of big data might lead. There are two difficulties
raised by this suggestion. The first is that such legislation has a tendency to be reac-
tive, and any proactive legislation might have the unintended effect of preventing
some good that the use of big data might facilitate. The second is that, given the
global reach of big data, any such legislation would need to be international in its
application, necessitating cross-border co-operation in its drafting, enactment and
enforcement.
A second possible response to the ethical challenges raised by big data might be
to address, not corporate, but individual responsibilities. Perhaps a version of the
Hippocratic Oath (cf. British Medical Association 2012: 887) might be produced
for Data Scientists, obliging them not to cause harm by their activities, and outlining
some instances where such harm might be caused? Of course, there would then be
issues around whether such an oath should be undertaken voluntarily or whether it
should be mandatory: how any perceived breaches of it should be assessed; and
what action it would be appropriate to undertake against any individual found to
have breached their oath.
These are doubtless details requiring the expertise of legal professionals.
However, the Churches surely have a role in urging scholarly engagement with data
scientists, and in lobbying for interventions in the use of big data to ensure that it is
used to maximise its benefit for all citizens (and to minimise its unwelcome intru-
sion upon them). It is to be hoped that they will rise to this challenge.
References
Berman, Jules J. 2013. Principles of big data. Amsterdam: Elsevier.

British Medical Association. 2012. Medical ethics today: The BMA’s handbook of ethics and law.
Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell.
Chen, Min, Shiwen Mao, Yin Zhang, and Victor C.M. Leung. 2014. Big data: Related technologies,
challenges and future prospects. Heidelberg: Springer.
Davenport, Thomas H., and Jill Dyché. 2013. Big data in big companies. Cary: SAS Institute.
Fuller, Michael. 2015. Big data: ‘New science, new challenges, new dialogical opportunities’.
Zygon 50: 569–582.
Goldacre, Ben. 2014. ‘When data gets creepy: The secrets we don’t realise we’re giving away’.
The Guardian, 5 December. Available at http://www.theguardian.com/technology/2014/
dec/05/when-data-gets-creepy-secrets-were-giving-away. Accessed 19 Feb 2015.
Laney, Doug. 2012. ‘The importance of “Big Data”: A definition’. Cited at http://en.wikipedia.org/
wiki/Big_data. Accessed 19 Feb 2015.
Lazer, David, Kennedy Ryan, King Gary, and Vespignani Alessandro. 2014. ‘The parable of
google flu: Traps in big data analysis’. Science 353: 1203–1205.
Mayer-Schönberger, Viktor, and Kenneth Cukier. 2013. Big data: A revolution that will transform
how we live, work and think. London: John Murray.
Mohanty, Soumendra, Madhu Jagadeesh, and Harsha Srivatsa. 2013. Big data imperatives.
Berkley: Apress.
Resnik, David B. 1998. The ethics of science. London: Routledge.
Schmidt, Eric, and Jared Cohen. 2013. The new digital age: Reshaping the future of people, nations
and business. London: John Murray.
Michael Fuller studied chemistry at the University of Oxford, taking a doctorate in the field of
organic synthesis, and theology at the University of Cambridge. He is ordained in the Anglican
Church and has served in churches in the Oxford and Edinburgh dioceses. From 2000–2014 he
oversaw the training of ministers in the Scottish Episcopal Church. He is now a Fellow of New
College, University of Edinburgh, and an Honorary Canon of Edinburgh Cathedral.
Part III
Engaging Intersections
Chapter 11
Eutonia: The Cross (In)Between Science
and Theology
Carmelo Santos
Abstract Antje Jackelén has proposed the concept of eutonia as an analogy for
understanding a constructive relationship between science and theology. By eutonia
she means a kind of helpful tension that should exist in the dialogue between scien-
tists and theologians around issues of religious concern. Such tension could help
avoid the coercion of one discipline by the other and create an epistemic space
where each discipline can contribute to the other. This chapter examines Jackelen’s
proposal and explores how eutonia could open up a similar fruitful dialogical space
between the cognitive science of religion (CSR) and theology. CSR offers theology
a powerful tool to examine the possible constraints and cognitive compulsions in its
attempt to fathom the mystery of God. Theology in turn can offer CSR a reminder
of the limits of its gaze and an invitation to the transcendent depths of reality. The
ultimate goal is a deeper and richer understanding of what it means to be human and
how religion and science can work together to find ways to bring healing to the
world and transform it in wholesome ways.
Keywords Eutonia • Healthy tension • Religion and Science dialogue • Cognitive

science of religion • Theology • Science • Critical engagement • Blind-spots • Limits
of knowledge • Surplus of reality
The contributions that Antje Jackelén has made to facilitate productive interactions
between Religion and Science have been many and manifold. As a scholar she
helped found the European Society for the Study of Science and Theology1; as a
professor at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, and as director of the
Zygon Center for Religion and Science she provided leadership for several initia-
tives to broaden the scope of the Religion and Science dialogue beyond the confines
1
For more information on ESSSAT see http://www.esssat.eu accessed on April 2015.
C. Santos (*)
Theology Department, Georgetown University, Washington, DC, USA
e-mail: carmelosantos25@gmail.com

132 C. Santos
of academia in order to address some urgent social issues such as the HIV/AIDS2
epidemic. And more recently, as archbishop of Uppsala and leader of the church of
Sweden she has become a leading voice in the prophetic work of addressing the
human-made causes of climate change and of finding ways to address this crisis for
the well being of the planetary community of all of God’s creatures.3
The focus of this chapter, however, is not on Jackelén’s institutional achieve-
ments and contributions but on a provocative methodological contribution that she
has made to the dialogue between theology and the natural sciences, a contribution
that remains to be fully appreciated. That contribution is the call for what she calls
“eutonia,” or healthy tension, as a necessary integral component for a healthy and
productive dialogue between Religion and Science. Below we explore Jackelén’s
concept of eutonia and how it can serve to protect the alterity or otherness of the
dialogue partners in such a way that they can avoid the danger of becoming ignored,
marginalized or perhaps even ventriloquized by the more powerful elements in the
dialogue. This is important because it is precisely its otherness, in terms of perspec-
tives, methodologies, presuppositions and commitments that endows each partner
with the possibility to make a truly unique and helpful contribution to the
conversation.
After analyzing the concept of eutonia and how Jackelén makes use of it in her
work, we employ it to argue for a more robust role of theology as a dialogue partner
with the cognitive science of religion (CSR). One of the strengths of the CSR
approach to the study of religious beliefs and practices is its methodological suspen-
sion of judgment regarding the truth claims made by religious traditions, as we shall
see below. That methodological approach is in part an adaptation of Noam
Chomsky’s now famous approach to the study of languages (1959). It grants CSR a
tremendous explanatory potential across religious traditions without the need to
engage in debates about the specific meanings or referents of symbols, myths and
rituals.4 However, we will argue that when taken to the extreme that emphasis on
external forms and relations with close to no regard for meanings and the traditions
of interpretation and critical self-explorations internal to the systems (i.e. religions)
being studied, places CSR in a position of power over against the subjects and sys-
tems it attempts to study. That power differential risks inoculating CSR from any
real criticism coming from a real other (that is, from outside the assumptions and
presuppositions that enable and constraint CSR’s gaze). To paraphrase postcolonial
theorist Chackravorty Spivak’s famous question: “Can the Subaltern Speak?”
(1988) I ask: “can the believer speak?” Can the religious community’s own interpre-
tations and self-critical theoretical developments (e.g., Theology) be heard by CSR
and thus help sometimes augment, sometimes correct, contradict, or perhaps even
confirm, the supposedly “etic” (i.e. objective, universal and scientific) explanations
of their own beliefs and behaviors? Or are religious believers and communities as
2
See http://zygoncenter.org/events/2006-hivaids-workshop/ accessed on April 2015.
3
See http://www.democracynow.org/2014/7/2/after_breaking_gender_barrier_swedens_1st accessed
on April 14, 2015.
4
For an overview see Dimitris Xygalatas (2014).
11 Eutonia: The Cross (In)Between Science and Theology 133
such reduced to being merely the mute subjects of a voyeuristic gaze sometimes
blind to its own social location, epistemic assumptions and unexamined prejudices?5
The question is whether there is space for an honest conversation between theology,
on the one hand, as an expression of the self-critical rational articulation of the
accumulated religious experiences and insights of a religious community, and the
cognitive science of religion, on the other.6 This chapter proposes that eutonia can
open up such space whereby both disciplines, namely theology and the CSR, can
make important contributions to each other, and together can contribute to our com-
mon quest for what it means to be human and what are wholesome ways of being
human together in this planet.
Once eutonia has been used to claim a space for meaningful dialogue between
theology and the CSR then the question must be asked, even if just preliminarily, of
what theology has to offer to CSR and, vice-versa, what CSR has to offer theology.
From CSR theology can get a powerful critical tool to assess its own tendencies
towards idolatry; that is, CSR can help theology remember the tendencies pro-
gramed in the human mind to imaginatively fabricate invisible agents to whom is
then willing to subject itself. That is a tendency that prophets have been warning
humanity from times immemorial. There is an infinite difference between those
idols, made in the image of our desires and fears, and the transcendent wholly Other,
whom believers see as the origin of all reality. A Wholly Other who is nonetheless
(and paradoxically) intimately and immanently present to each creature as its power
to be, and who calls us all to seek, find and construct ever more wholesome ways of
being in the world and of relating with each other; the One whom the word God
tentatively attempts to signify. It is that inexhaustible surplus of meaning7 in reality
that bursts beyond the seams of all our theories, religions, sciences and experiences,
that theology is tasked with bringing to the fore in the dialogue with science.
Thus, eutonia can open up a space of meaningful encounter where theology and
science can truly enrich each other by broadening the scope of their view while at
the same time helping each other to be vigilant of the temptations of confusing their
tentative theories of reality with the wholeness of reality of which all our theories
and theologies themselves are but a fragment.
Eutonia in Time and Eternity
What is eutonia? It is healthy tension. Eutonia is derived from the concept of muscle
tone or tonus. It is the kind of tension that allows muscles to move and perform their
functions optimally. Too much tension and the muscle stiffens, too little tension and
it becomes too flaccid. The right amount of tension allows for the balance between
5
These dangers are not just hypothetical, see for example Linda Tuhiwai Smith (2006 [1999]).
6
There have been some promising moves in the right direction, see for example, Ilkka Pyysiäinen
(2015).
7
For a discussion of this surplus, see Paul Ricoeur (1976); and also Jean Luc Marion (2008).
134 C. Santos
strength and suppleness that enables the human arm and hand, for instance, to lift
heavy loads, to strike with the power of a boxer, or to paint the fine details of a land-
scape soaked in the dew and sunlight of dawn. Eutonia is understood as that kind of
healthy and necessary tension, the kind of tension that enables movement and work
to be done.
Jackelén inserts eutonia into the Religion and Science dialogue to help it move
beyond the possible dangers inherent in hasty attempts at harmonizing religious and
scientific perspectives prematurely. Nevertheless, it must be pointed out that her call
for healthy tension in the Religion and Science dialogue assumes that such a dia-
logue is necessary, beneficial and desirable. Eutonia is not about a warfare model8
of pitting religion against science. It is about serious engagement that allows for,
and even demands, serious mutual criticism of the kind that is capable of threshing
the grain of robust truth claims from the chaff of hollowed ideas that cannot survive
the mere touch of reality. Without that process of rigorous mutual criticism the dia-
logue risks becoming a monologue where one partner ventriloquizes the other, per-
haps unwillingly and without realizing it, so that rather than a dialogue partner one
ends up with a sort of sounding board where we trick ourselves into believing that
the other is confirming what we have said when in reality it is the eco of our own
voice that we hear (Haraway 1991).
Therefore, Eutonia is about protecting the alterity or otherness of science and
theology in the Religion and Science dialogue as an important prerequisite for a
productive dialogue. Jackelén explains:
The obvious role of dialogue is not synthesis; rather, it initially concerns the clarifying
process. Alterity and differences should be respected. The most impressive syntheses justi-
fiably elicit mistrust, for they can easily develop totalitarian and dictatorial tendencies.
There can be no talk of a new ‘marriage’ between science and theology, as was the case, for
example, during Newton’s time. In this context, apologetics in the traditional sense is also
a poor adviser. A certain dualism or pluralism, in which two or more perspectives of the
same reality complement each other, is preferable. From time to time, the most basic task
of the dialogue may be to expose a conflict. Beneficial tension, eutonia, is a more worth-
while goal than a great synthesis, at least as long as the unio mystica remains unattainable
(2005).
What is the problem, one might ask, with wanting to have a coherent understand-
ing of reality that integrates scientific and religious perspectives the way, say, bin-
oculars help integrate two different segments of reality into one? What is the
problem with seeking a harmonious and all encompassing theory of reality? The
problem, to paraphrase Jackelén’s episcopal motto, is that ‘reality is greater’.9 The
human mind and the theories devised by it are not outside reality, as if à la Descartes’
res cogitans or Plato’s disembodied psyché. The human mind is part of the very
system it strives to comprehend and therefore all our theories must be partial
8
For a description of the warfare model, see Malcom Jeeves and Warren S. Brown (2009); espe-
cially chapter 2, “Warfare versus Partnership.”
9
As bishop of Lund Jackelén chose as an inscription for her epicospal emblem the words: “God is
greater,” for Jackelén’s explanation of the motto see http://www.svenskakyrkan.se/default.
aspx?id=640721 accessed on April 14 2015.
approximations and can never exhaust the reality it tries to understand and describe.
Jackelén finds an analogy for the need to switch to a more nuanced understanding
of the capacities of the human mind in the way contemporary physics has had to
revise its notion of time from it being absolute to relative. She says: “In my opinion,
this development in physics provides a useful illustration of the problem of absolute
rationality. In a similar way as a transition from an absolute notion of space and time
to a relative concept was needed, it is necessary to shift focus from an absolute
notion of reason to a relative understanding of rationality” (2001). However, this
relativizing of human reason does not mean giving in to irrationality. Thus, Jackelén
explains that: “This framework does not mean less rationality or irrationality but
rather more rationality or even more than rationality. The step from absolute to rela-
tive reason is the step from an exclusive description that focuses either on the play
or on the stage toward an inclusive description that accounts for both stage and play,
as well as their interaction with each other and the observers” (2001). Just as we
now know that space and time are not inert and static stages where the drama of
reality plays out we also know that the human mind and the various approaches it
has devised to comprehend reality are not disconnected from the reality it tries to
understand but it is intricately and dynamically interconnected with that same real-
ity as a part and expression of it.10 Therefore, the relativity of human knowledge
points to the need for dialogue and eutonia among different approaches to compre-
hending reality, or, perhaps more accurately, to comprehending different fragments
of reality.
Another reason to be weary of attempts at harmonizing scientific and theological
perspectives too hastily comes from the unfortunate fact of how easily corruptible
the human mind is. Neither science nor theology is done by disembodied minds, and
neither one of them has access to a view of reality “from God’s perspective,” that is,
from a supposedly universal realm where economic, social and psychological pres-
sures have no influence on the pursuit of knowledge (Westhelle 1995). Recent rev-
elations of fraud in the peer review process of prestigious scientific journals, leading
to the need to recall dozens of published articles,11 as well as disclosures, once
again, of how first world medical research was done on the unaware and unconsent-
ing bodies of third world people (in Guatemala) by being infected with deceases for
the sake of the progress of science,12 reminds us of the corruptibility of even the
noblest of pursuits, including science and religion. Science and theology can be
(and have often been) coopted for the pursuit of less then noble pursuits that have
nothing to do with the search for truth or holiness but with the will to power and the
temptations of economic gain, professional prestige or simply academic or ecclesial
10
For a discussion of the social location of all knowledge and the need for making space for alter-
native ways of knowing see Otto Maduro 2012: 87–106.
11
See http://www.the-scientist.com/?articles.list/tagNo/2642/tags/scientific-fraud/ accessed on
April 11 2015.
12
Maggie Fox, “U.S. Apologizes for Syphilis Experiment in Guatemala,” Reuters, October 1 2010,
http://www.reuters.com/article/2010/10/01/us-usa-guatemala-experiment-idUS-
TRE6903RZ20101001 accessed on April 11, 2015.
136 C. Santos
survival. Too often these tendencies play out in the interaction between theology
and science by viewing the other not as a potentially helpful dialogue partner but as
an antagonist to be defeated or as a misguided view in need of correction (van
Huyssteen 1998). The fact that conflict seems to be more profitable in the current
market of ideas than genuine dialogue exacerbates the situation. Furthermore, the
social embeddedness of science and theology also means that there is a power dif-
ferential between the two that affects the way they interact.13 Galileo’s trial is a
reminder of the way an inequality of power can get in the way of the true pursuit of
knowledge; the caricaturesque portrayals of religion by some contemporary militant
(new) atheistic groups and their vitriolic attacks against all expressions of religious
faith and practice is another. So the danger that Jackelén sees hidden under the
promise of a potential marriage between Science and Religion is that it would not
be really a marriage but rather a takeover. To use Barbour’s well-known typology of
the interactions between Religion and Science, synthesis (the fourth type) would
easily fall back into conflict (the first type) (1997). Moreover, if there is a significant
difference of power then the more powerful (and respectable) discipline can end up
either pushing other kinds of knowledges and methodologies beyond the margins of
what counts as true and accurate knowledge (as opposed to mere opinion or “airy
nothing”) or it ends up swallowing them surreptitiously and subjecting them into its
own forms of discourse thus sacrificing their true alterity. In either case the result is
an impoverishment of our understanding of reality.
In her work, Jackelén models a way for a healthy dialogue between Religion and
Science that takes into account both the limitations of each approach as well as its
strength and possible contributions to each other. Although recently she has ven-
tured into other fields, such as ecology and cognitive science, the focus of her origi-
nal work was in the exploration of the concepts of time and eternity in classical and
contemporary physics and in theology and church hymnody. She exemplifies the
way eutonia can be productive in the way she brings to bear the discovery of time as
relative and relational on theological models of the mystery of God. In her chapter
on “Aspects of a Theology of Time” she proposes the following correspondence
between what could be called the experimental-theoretical models of reality devised
by contemporary science and the experiential-hermeneutical models of God devel-
oped by contemporary theology:
If the physical theories adequately describe the basic structures of reality, then the state-
ment – that no complete dissimilarity of the basic structures of creation and Creator exist –
can be considered theologically rational. If what I found to be the essential features in the
formation of modern theories of physics agrees with reality, i.e., is 1) a relative concept of
time, 2) the problems of distinguishing between subject and object, 3) the dynamics
between observer and the observed, as well as 4) the description of the development of
dynamic systems far from equilibrium are appropriate descriptions of reality, then an inter-
pretation of the concept of God as a relational fellowship corresponds more closely to this
description of reality (Jackelén 2005).
13
See Francisca Cho and Richard K. Squier 2008: 420–448.
We can see from the above quote that despite her strong critique of the limits of
science (and theology) Jackelén does not attempt to isolate the two but rather opens
up a space so that a mutually enriching dialogue can take place. From various avail-
able models and analogies to speak of the divine mystery she uses the insights of
science as a way to adjudicate among them at least in terms of which model is more
consistent with reality as understood by the relevant sciences. As Jackelén explains:
“Without thereby making theology dependent upon scientific theories or ‘exploit-
ing’ physical theories theologically, a hermeneutics that rests on self-evidence of
the discussion and the desire for contact leads here to an enhanced understanding”
(2005). But the contributions go both ways. From theology science can learn, for
example, the centrality of narrative in understanding time and reality; hence
Jackelén’s choice of hymns (narrated time) as an important resource for understand-
ing time. It could be said that narrative endows time with meaning and time gives
narrative its material reality. Scientific notions of time without narrative would be
meaningless, and theological narratives of time (such as eschatologies) without
being rooted in scientific understandings of time would risk having no contact with
reality.14 Consequently, bringing both approaches together in dialogue can enhance
and enrich the way we understand time, reality and God but without falling into the
temptation of eliminating the tensions that result from their uniqueness.
We see then that it is possible and necessary to include a certain level of eutonia
or healthy tension in the dialogue between Science and Religion. We have explored
how the need for such tension is rooted in the social embeddedness of both science
and theology (or more accurately of scientists and theologians) but also in the
immensity of reality whose richness calls for a wide variety of perspectives and
approaches. Now we move to another area of interaction between Science and
Religion, namely the cognitive science of religion. The objective of the next section
is to employ eutonia as a way to call for a broader epistemic inter-space where the
cognitive science of religion can receive the contributions that theology has to offer,
and where theology, and religion in general, can be enriched even if through a sort
of exfoliating criticism, by the findings and proposals of CSR.
Eutonia in the Cognitive Science of Religion
The cognitive science of religion is an interdisciplinary approach to the study of

religious beliefs and practices that has emerged in the last two decades.15 More than
a science as such it is an interdisciplinary strategy to study a variety of behaviors
and kinds of beliefs that fall loosely under the category of religion. Ara Norenzayan’s
treatment of the category of religion in his book, Big Gods, illustrates this approach
well:
14
For the role of narrative as a source of knowledge see Marie Vejrup Nielsen 2010: 173–186; and,
in the same volume, John A. Teske 2010: 187–199.
15
See James A. Van Slyke 2011.
138 C. Santos
First, religion is a family resemblance construct, not a natural kind category; therefore no
necessary or sufficient features are needed or expected. Second, the argument rooted in
cultural evolution specifies the particular combination of elements that coalesce as a result
of increasing social scale over time and across groups. In other words, the package of traits
that get labeled religion shares recurrent features, but also this package evolves, taking dif-
ferent shapes in different groups and at different historical times.16
That understanding of religion is characteristic of the CSR. It intentionally

moves away from phenomenological characterizations of religions as either expres-
sions of a special kind of phenomenal experience, such as Rudolph Otto’s notion of
the numinous17 or Schleiermacher’s “feeling of absolute dependence,”18 as well as
from theological formulations of religions as culturally differentiated attempts of
speaking of a common transcendental core, such as the Sacred (Eliade)19 or the
Ultimate (Tillich).20 The problem with theological, phenomenological and other
such concepts, is that they seem to isolate religion from the possibility of being
studied through the empirical methods of the sciences. That is so because if the
essential core of religion is truly transcendental then religion (and religious experi-
ences and beliefs) by definition would belong to a sui generis category hence pro-
tected from any external critique.21
Cognitive science provided researchers interested in the study of religion with an
alternative and powerful tool to investigate religious phenomena.22 Cognitive sci-
ence emerged in the 1950s as an alternative to behaviorism and psychoanalytical
approaches to the study of the mind. It has been in constant development ever since
and has recently began to become integrated with neuroscience spawning new fields
spanning from cognitive and social neuroscience, to affective and decision making
neuroscience, with important applications in the areas of economics, aesthetics and
ethics just to name a few.23 Thus some of the basic features of cognitive science are
constantly changing depending on the particular elements of the sub-disciplines
being combined and the problems being investigated. For the purposes of this chap-
ter it will have to suffice to sketch a general outline of the main recurrent elements
that make the CSR a scientifically recognizable approach.
One of the key elements in the CSR is the focus on mental representations,
although recent versions of CSR are showing signs of moving into versions of cog-
nition that take into account embodied and extended forms of knowing that include
but transcend cognitive representations in their classical sense. By representations
CSR researchers and theorists refer to ways in which the mind represents reality to
16
See Ara Norenzayan 2013: 193, footnote 5.
17
See Rudolf Otto 1926.
18
See Friedrich Schleiermacher 1893.
19
See Mircea Eliade 1961.
20
See Paul Tillich 1957.
21
See Ilkka Pyysiainen 2003.
22
Cf. Pascal Boyer 1994.
23
See Michael Gazzaniga, Richard B. Ivry, and George R. Magnun 2013.
itself in encoded form.24 For instance, when we perceive someone running towards
us the mind is already encoding that perceptual information in ways relevant to us.
Before we even become aware of it our mind has already decided that the runner is
an agent with certain intentions and the capacity to act on those intentions, more
specifically, that the runner is a human kind of agent because of its body structure
and facial features. We intuitively assume that it can understand language (even if
perhaps not ours), that it is bounded by the laws of physics and biology (e.g. it can
die, it needs to eat to survive, it cannot go through solid objects, it cannot fly on its
own, etc.). Additionally, we intuit proper ways of interacting with it depending on
the circumstances. It can be perceived as threatening and therefore one knows to flee
or fight, or it can be recognized as helpful (e.g. someone rushing in to save us from
a dire situation), or it can be perceived as an important person in our social hierarchy
(a ruler, a boss, someone to whom we owe something) and therefore we know to be
ready to treat him or her with deference and respect. What matters in the CSR
approach is not the actual encounter with that other but rather the mental structures
and processes by which that or any other is represented to the mind. The assumption
is that the human mind employs the same general cognitive apparatus to represent
all agents (human, animal, spiritual, or divine, doesn’t matter) and all actions.25 Of
course, not all agents and actions would activate exactly the same elements but the
point is that there are no special (again, sui generis) ways of perceiving religious
phenomena other than through the normal cognitive machinery of the mind.
The work of E. Thomas Lawson and Robert N. McCauley’s work on the cogni-
tive structure of religious rituals exemplifies the CSR strategy outlined above. They
summarize it as follows:
Distinguishing ritual form from both semantic and cultural contents will prove useful for
many analytical and explanatory purposes. Our cognitive system for the representation of
action imposes fundamental, though commonplace, constraints on ritual form. Attention to
these constraints enables us to look beyond the variability of religious rituals’ details to
some of their most general underlying properties. The point, in short, is that religious rituals
(despite their often bizarre qualities) are also actions. (Ritual drummers ritually beating
ritual drums are still drummers beating drums.) Consequently, this general system for the
representation of action is also responsible for participants’ representation of many features
of the form of their rituals (2002).
The truth claims and existential or ontological meanings intrinsic to the rituals
(e.g., that the rituals are facilitating some kind of effect in the realm of spirit or in
the sacred depths of reality) and the questions of whether such meanings correspond
to anything real beyond the human imagination are thus circumvented or postponed.
The same tactic is employed in the analysis of religious beliefs. What is analyzed is
not that which is signified by religious symbols, narratives, and concepts but how
they are signified with the universally common apparatus of human cognition.
Before going into the details of the putative cognitive architectonics employed in
religious beliefs, two things must be clarified about the way CSR views the human
24
See Paul Thagard 2005.
25
See Justin Barrett 2004.
140 C. Santos
mind in general. First, the mind is not merely a mirror of external reality, as nine-
teenth century positivists held. The mind weaves together its perception of the world
in the form of representations and some specific transformations of those represen-
tations. Second, the structures and processes by which mental representations
emerge and are held in mind and transformed are not usually serial in nature (i.e.
they are not a concatenation of computational processes ordered chronologically),
but more often than not function in parallel. The exact degree of the independence
(or modularity) of each process is a matter of debate among cognitive scientists and
philosophers of mind.26 However, the general postulate that the mind consists of
functionally separate but interconnected cognitive systems that can function with
some degree of independence from each other even if in the final outcome there is a
high degree of integration, seems to be generally accepted. The fact that those pro-
cesses are usually functioning in parallel becomes apparent when taking tests such
as the Stroop effect test.27 In that experiment test participants are shown a series of
words written in different colors. Each word is the name of a color but the color in
which the word itself is painted is different from the color it names. For example,
the word red would be painted blue and so on. During the test participants are asked
to read the words regardless of the color in which they are presented. Then they are
asked to ignore the meaning of the word and instead just speak out loud the color in
which the word is painted. Initially, participants struggle with the second part of the
test. One system in the mind is trying to read while the other is trying to identify the
colors.
CSR views specific religious beliefs as an effect of the particular types of mental
architectonics we have. Thus the way the human mind has been shaped by evolu-
tion, through a sort of tinkering process carried out by the pressures of natural selec-
tion, endows it with the ability and tendency to entertain beliefs in things like gods,
spirits, ghosts, and karma or destiny. It is not possible to do justice in the context of
this paper to the intricacies of such systems and to the experimental results from
which they have been derived. Two examples will serve as illustrations.28 The first
example is derived from the human mind’s tendency to over attribute agency to
ambiguous events. The typical example is of a hiker that hears something ruffling
near her feet and intuits the presence of a snake or some other animal only to dis-
cover that it was really just the wind or a twig she stepped on. It is easy to see how
that same system, the Hyperactive Agency Detection Device, could be responsible
for the human tendency to attribute existentially relevant but ambiguous events and
states of affairs, such as good or bad harvests, getting sick or suddenly being healed,
etc., to the benevolent or malevolent activity of special kinds of agents such as
demons, angels, jins, or ancestor spirits. In addition to the hyper active agency
detection device, other cognitive systems would contribute to the attribution of
26
See Robert J. Stainton, ed. 2006.
27
The test is available at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tpge6c3Ic4g accessed on April 14
2015.
28
The explanation of the cognitive architectonics of religious beliefs presented here is based on
Justin L. Barrett 2011.
religious significance to the posited agent or agency. For instance, another device in
the mind (sometimes called the Theory of Mind) would intuitively attribute specific
intentions to the perceived agent. Also, our cognitive systems that facilitate social
interactions would determine how one relates to the purported agent. Furthermore,
our cognitive devices related to our sense of morality could also attribute to that
agent a role in keeping the balance of justice and equity that one perceives as being
unhinged.
The second example of how human cognitive architectonics shape religious
beliefs is taken from the field of the epidemiology of ideas (i.e., the study of the
ways certain ideas spread across populations and generations). There are certain
kinds of ideas that seem to have the tendency to spread faster than others and to be
more memorable than others. One set of such ideas has the property of being mini-
mally counterintuitive in relation to the default intuitive expectations set by the
cognitive devices mentioned above. A person that doesn’t have a body (e.g., a ghost
or an ancestor spirit) is an example of a minimally counterintuitive idea. The rela-
tive modularity of the cognitive systems allows for the other systems employed in
representing human agents to continue to generate representations even in the
absence of a living body. When the minimally counterintuitive idea (MCI) allows
those who entertain it to explain in meaningful ways phenomena that would other-
wise be unexplainable or puzzling, that is, when it has strong inferential potential,
then the concept is more likely to persist and to spread across populations. That is
why, according to the CSR certain religious beliefs and notions of god or gods are
more prevalent than others. Justin L. Barrett, one of the pioneers in the CSR,
explains how the architectonics of the mind described by the CSR can account for
the prevalence of certain kinds of attributes in the deities across cultures and
religions:
A strong god candidate is a modestly counterintuitive intentional agent or person, because
such persons have great inferential potential while not being too complex or difficult to
understand and communicate. Successful gods will also tend to produce actions that are
detectable in the world, either through our agency detection system, or because they account
for apparent design and purpose in the natural world. Beings that may be invoked as mor-
ally interested, and perhaps accounting for fortune and misfortune in terms of reward and
punishment, might be especially successful. In short, successful god concepts need to be
able to make meaning of life’s events in relatively intuitive, straightforward ways. Observing
these features of gods are not new. The novel contribution of cognitive science is that we
can now better explain why these features are important for gods and why they tend to
congeal (Barrett 2001).
The strength of CSR is that it can describe in accurate ways how beliefs and
religious practices are actually practiced by the people as opposed to how they think
they perform or how religious experts such as theologians believe they should be
done. It also allows for researchers to empirically assess how specific religious
beliefs inform (or not) the way religious practitioners live their faith in their daily
lives. For example, CSR allows us to compare monotheistic believers’ explicit
notions of God versus their implicit notions of God operative in the way they pray
142 C. Santos
by observing the types of requests that are privileged or avoided in their prayers.29
Finally, it also allows us to critically examine and compare actual theological con-
cepts of divinity, morality, anthropology (i.e. what it means to be human), etc. in
light of the default cognitive systems of the mind, from inter-religious and cross-
cultural perspectives. All that can result in richer and more accurate understandings
of what religions actually are in practice as opposed to what our assumptions and
prejudices suppose to be the case.
A shortcoming of the CSR and where it would benefit from eutonia in dialogue
with the theological approaches is the following. By creating such a loose definition
of religion and by emphasizing the external forms of religious beliefs and practices
it risks isolating itself from any possible critique from outside its own discipline. It
is one thing to focus on a particular aspect or set of elements of the object being
studied because of the specific scope and limitations of the theories and instrumen-
tation being employed. That is a strategy that has proven very helpful and powerful
in the sciences and even in the humanities in general. However, it is another thing to
want to implicitly reduce the whole of the object being studied to the parameters
that have been set ahead of time by the theoretical paradigm, the experimental limi-
tations and the ontological assumptions of any particular approach.
This is where I find Jackelén’s concept of eutonia relevant for a dialogue between
CSR and theology. As discussed in the first part of this chapter, eutonia implies an
affirmation of the contributions each dialogue partner has to offer to the other, but it
also calls for an honest and critical assessment of the limitations and unwarranted
assumptions or conclusions of each. By definition we cannot see our own blind-
spots; we need a true other, who stands on a radically different position from us to
be able to view what lies beyond the scope of our own gaze.
The blind-spot in CSR that theology can help point out is the danger for CSR to
become isolated from the possibility of being challenged, criticized or even cor-
rected by the subjects it studies. The problem is that meanings do matter, especially
in religious beliefs and practices, and if it is a helpful strategy to postpone any dis-
cussion of the truth claims implicit in religion, to totally ignore them is to convert
the external forms that are being studied into a sort of mosaic tiles that can be fitted
together by the researcher according to a logic alien to them. The risk is illustrated
in an exaggerated but helpful way by the traditional Zen story of the archer who
never missed because he would shoot first and draw the bull’s eye later where the
arrow landed. To affirm that risk is in no way to deny that cognitive scientists of
religion are serious scientists with habits of precise observations, carefully design-
ing experiments and the goal of discovering what the data presents to them rather
than inventing what they want to see. That is why the above criticism is formulated
as a blind-spot, which is why is vigorously refuted from within the field; because it
cannot be seen. The problem is that the way religion and religious believers are
constructed from the outset excludes outliers and silences the possibility of criti-
cism from within any religious tradition other than secularism. There are excep-
tions, such as Barrett, quoted above, that seem to make a genuine effort to listen
29
See Justin Barrett 2001: 259–69.
carefully and seriously, but also critically, to what those who stand from within the
religious perspective have to say.
An example of a positive contribution that contemporary theology can make to
CSR is the understanding that religious experiences, beliefs and practices do not
have to have an ultra-mundane referent in some kind of ghostly realm parallel to the
material world. Rather, many contemporary theologians such as Antje Jackelén,30
Nancey Murphy,31 Catherine Keller,32 and Mayra Rivera33 among many others,
emphasize that the type of transcendence that Christian theology speaks about can
be correctly interpreted to take place in the spaces of inter-relationality that consti-
tute the milieu of the human being. And theologians such as Mary Solberg34 and
Vitor Westhelle35 speak of the event of religious revelation not as the disclosure of
certain truths that have descended from a platonic realm beyond the clouds, but
rather as an encounter with concrete historical realities, sometimes encountered
directly and other times mediated through narratives, symbols, rituals and other
practices that constitute a special epistemic locus from which the world can be per-
ceived in a new way. That new way of perceiving the world can then in turn trans-
form the ways people actually inhabit that world and the ways they seek to shape it.
The paradigmatic revelatory event, for the theological perspective from which this
paper is written is “the cross”,36 which serves as a metonym to refer to Jesus of
Nazareth’s life, teaching, sacrifice, and resurrection as received in faith and contin-
ued by his followers who carry their own crosses in the praxis of the kind of love,
justice and peace that the remembrance of Jesus evokes in them. But the type of
sophisticated understanding of immanental divine revelation and religious episte-
mology mentioned above is what is precisely excluded from the scientific gaze of
the CSR. A false dichotomy is created between supposedly real religious believers
vis-à-vis religious elites who are not considered to be good representatives of reli-
gion because of their apparent proclivity to take science and rational arguments
seriously.37 It seems that an essential part of CSR’s non-essentialist definition of
religion is that religion must be defined essentially vis-à-vis science!
Eutonia can pry open a critical and productive dialogical space in between CSR
approaches and theological approaches to understanding religious phenomena. In
that in-between dialogical space, we can learn to listen, engage, critique, and enrich
each other. It is in that sense that the title for this paper refers to eutonia as the
“cross” (in)between science and theology. Because it halts the attempts of prema-
ture and forced harmonization’s (as Jackelén has warned); it does so by fostering
30
See Ante Jackelén 2004.
31
See Nancey Murphy 2006.
32
See Catherine Keller 2014.
33
See Mayra Rivera 2007.
34
See Mary M. Solberg 1997.
35
See Vítor Westhelle 2006.
36
For an exposition from various perspectives on the relevance of the cross in theological thinking,
see Marit Trelstad, ed. 2006.
37
See Pyysiainen discussion in How Religion Works, op cit.
144 C. Santos
a critical space (Gk. krisis) similar to how in the Christian religious experience the
scandal of the crucifixion of the Christ (again, “the cross”) is used to halt too easy
harmonizations between our rationalizations of divinity on one hand, and, on the
other hand, the perplexing self-disclosure of the wholly Other, that divine mystery
immanent in the very materiality of the world as its power of resisting non-being
and of wrenching what is from what is not (e.g., life from death, hope from hope-
lessness, justice from injustice, and so on). By not evading the cross, by embracing
the healthy tension of eutonia in the Religion and Science dialogue, new vistas and
new insights about the world, the divine and the mystery of ourselves may appear
before us, even if perhaps only as fleeting glimmers such as fireflies illuminating the
night.
Conclusion
In conclusion, Jackelén’s proposal for eutonia, or healthy epistemic tension, in the

Religion and Science dialogue is a necessary addition to the field. Her use of eutonia
in her study of time and eternity demonstrates how mutually enriching a serious
dialogue can be when each dialogue partner takes the other seriously enough to
allow for its alterity to remain, instead of giving in to the pressure of subsuming the
other’s contributions into one’s own perspective. In this chapter we have proposed
that the dialogue between Christian theology and the cognitive science of religion
would also benefit from the healthy tension which Jackelén has called eutonia.38 We
have examined the strengths and weaknesses of the cognitive science of religion
approach and concluded that theology can learn much from the CSR but also that
theology can also make an important contribution to the CSR by opening a produc-
tive epistemic space where both approaches can correct and enrich each other. In
that cross (in)between science and theology new insights can be gained about the
world, about the mystery of what it means to be human and about the mystery of the
divine. Hopefully that will inspire and orient us in our common task of finding ever
more wholesome ways of being human together for the healing and flourishing of
all in time and eternity.
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Chapter 12
The Study of Symbols as a Bridge Between
Science and Theology
Lluis Oviedo
Abstract The interaction between science and theology is looking for shared
ground and developments able to overcome mutual suspicion and to build reciprocal
understanding. The scientific study of religion in the last 15 years has more often
contributed to increase tensions and deepen in warfare attitudes than to lay bridges
and to find areas of shared interest and collaboration between sciences and theologi-
cal reflection. Trying a more ‘neutral’ approach, probably the study of symbols
could provide a better ground for the looked for approach. Last 20 years have known
indeed a very interesting development in the scientific study of symbols, and their
relationship with language, values, meaning and culture. This is a very promising
field of research providing a sound ground for a new scientific study of religion, less
serving agendas related to culture wars or apologetic programs, and more leaning
towards interdisciplinarity and cooperation. The “externalist” approach to cognition
and the cognitive study of symbols offers some little-explored avenues for a better
understanding of religious cognition. This paper surveys some of the consequences
for the study of religion when that research is taken into account, and tries to show
how the evolution of religion may be represented more accurately through this theo-
retical framework.
Keywords Symbols • Religious evolution • Art • Morality • Bible
Introduction
The cognitive and evolutionary approaches to religion have revealed new features
and dynamics of religious experience, broadening the methodological toolbox and
providing powerful explanations. In the past decades, the “cognitive revolution” has
reached many fields of human and social sciences: theory of culture, aesthetics and
L. Oviedo (*)
Theology Department, Antonianum University, Rome, Italy
e-mail: loveido@antonianum.edu

148 L. Oviedo
literary theory, economics and decision making, morality and sociology. Religion
has not been an exception, and, in principle, scholars dealing with the study of reli-
gion can only expect benefits from this new methodological contribution.
Nevertheless, a closer examination of the new paradigm has prompted scepti-
cism and doubt. As a general rule, the first attempts to apply a theoretical paradigm
from a different field meet resistance. The field indulges in “fallacies of projection”
and “difficulties of translation” (Kline 1995; Klein 1990). Some problems emerging
in recent years have threatened to slow down the entire project, like the apparently
insurmountable pluralism between “adaptationists” and “by-product” theorists, and
the weakness of empirical evidence for several of its basic tenets.
A way to overcome the perceived narrowness in the current bio-cognitive
approach to religion would be to account for more factors involved in the religious
mind. After years of hesitation, recently developed programs try to account for the
cultural and historical dimension of religious mind (Bulbulia et al. 2013).
Sadly a part of that ongoing research has been used to debunk religious beliefs,
and hence such positions have been of little help when trying to establish a construc-
tive dialogue between science and theology (Dennett 2006; LeRon Shults 2014).
Probably alternative approaches – inside cognitive science – could be more promis-
ing in order to improve things, at least for the theological side. Indeed other
approaches available for the study of religion are more convenient to move from a
narrow analysis to a more integrated frame, taking into account some emerging
paradigms.
The first aim of the present article is to provide an introduction to developments
in this alternative sector of cognitive studies. Its second aim is to apply standard
approaches used in the study of symbol formation to religion (guided by similar
attempts made in the aesthetic and moral field). Finally, these developments suggest
a more fruitful research program for science-and-theology.
Relevant Developments in the Cognitive Study of Symbols
The second half of the nineties saw a deep change in cognitive science as several
authors dealing with the evolution of the human mind and the differences between
humans and other animals took a decidedly externalist stance. This could be the
third, or perhaps the fourth, change happening in the new discipline, which went
from classical computational models to connectionism and then to dynamical sys-
tems theory. In general, the theories under exam stress the embodied and embedded
nature of cognition, and point to the role of symbols as the definitive marker of
human cognitive capacities. Authors include Merlin Donald, Edwin Hutchins,
Terrence Deacon, Michael Tomasello, Andy Clark, George Lakoff, Gilles
Fauconnier, and Mark Turner.
This is a clear paradigm shift which has been detailed by Robert A. Wilson
(2004). Wilson distinguishes between “nativists,” those more akin to an internalist
view of cognitive fabric, and externalists, those more concerned with the role played
12 The Study of Symbols as a Bridge Between Science and Theology 149
by learning and social interaction. Externalists conceive the mind as embodied and
embedded in the local environment. They give a central role to symbols in the cog-
nitive mechanism, describing the dynamics of human thought not in computational
terms, but in a complementary way.
A New Explanation of Human Evolution
The process of human evolution is understood quite differently by these authors,

ranging from traditional Darwinian and neo-Darwinian models to complexity sci-
ence. While selective pressures have usually been understood as driving the genetic
make-up and determining cognitive skills related to survival, the externalists point
instead to processes of cultural interaction, socially implemented through an
improved capacity for symbols and language. Both approaches differ quite radi-
cally. One is more individual, physicalist, and internally oriented, while the other is
more social, co-operative, and relational.
A hot debate is going on between different approaches and ways to understand
the process of evolution, particularly the role played by selection and adaptive
forces (Fodor 2008). This discussion has clear repercussions in the study of religion
and its evolution.
Strongly externalist scholars offer their own account of human evolution. Starting
with an early version, Merlin Donald (1991) points to the faculty of representation
as the clue that explains human evolution. This “apparatus” created symbols and
was driven by its utility. Essential to this view is the role played by culture, which is
not secondary or a simple consequence of mind development, but a central motor of
evolution, influencing the “actual cognitive structure” (Donald 1991). Donald sees
three great “transitions” in human evolution: from episodic to mimetic culture; from
mimetic to mythic; and from mythic to theoretic, resorting to “external symbolic
storage.” For Donald, human development is the result of an interaction between
mind and culture, not just an internal affair in the individual human mind.
A second proposal is offered by Edwin Hutchins and his model of “distributed
cognition.” Hutchins studied practical examples, such as how a navigation team on
a large ship works together, to show that individual cognition cannot be separated
from other minds: “human cognition… is in a very fundamental sense a cultural and
social process” (Hutchins 1995). As a consequence, it seems futile to try to isolate
cognitive processes from their context. As a result, evolution should be considered
as an increased capacity for “distributed cognition” among individuals.
Among the most popular versions of the externalist theory of evolution is the one
offered by Terrence Deacon and his book The Symbolic Species (1997). What hap-
pens if we take the symbol elaboration ability as the starting point of human cogni-
tion, instead of the internal or formal structure of information processing? Surely,
the consequences will be far reaching and a different landscape will appear before
us. Deacon invites us to look at the origins of language from a different point of
view, and to engage in a research program able to avoid the shortcomings associated
150 L. Oviedo
to alternative solutions, especially Chomsky’s model. He inverts the order of things

and suggests that language is not the outcome of an evolved brain, but that language
has implemented such evolution through an increased ability to manipulate symbols.
His central thesis is that brain and language have co-evolved.
The central role played by symbols in the evolution of language and the human
mind invites us to think that the symbolic universe is the broad pool in which human
evolution is rendered possible. Games, figurative representation (art) and rituals
(religion) are clearly correlated with the process which enables the acquisition and
use of symbols.
Ritual activity plays a particular role in this schema: “symbols are still exten-
sively tied to ritual-like cultural practices and paraphernalia” (Deacon 1997). The
key concept in this system is that “the evolution of language took place neither
inside nor outside brains, but at the interface where cultural evolutionary processes
affect biological evolutionary processes” (Deacon 1997: 409). All this is meant by
the word “co-evolution”: if symbol-learning and using are essential to the acquisi-
tion and development of language, and if language is central to the human evolu-
tion, it seems that genetic and social-cultural factors were mutually involved in the
process. Rituals of different kinds have played a central role, providing occasions
for symbol-making and learning through repetition and emotional involvement.
From Deacon’s point of view, ritual is not a derived activity, but it is central one to
the promotion of symbols and co-evolution.
Michael Tomasello offers his own externalist version: “Cumulative cultural evo-
lution is thus the explanation for many of human beings’ most impressive cognitive
achievements” (Tomasello 1999). The author calls this the “ratchet effect,” a pro-
cess which links innovation and imitation, possibly with the help of instruction, to
human evolution. Here again, it is the collaborative social schema that supplies the
clue for human development, more than other internal factors. More recently
Tomasello has proposed a model based on ‘joint attention’ leading to more complex
forms of communication as the clue for human evolution (Tomasello 2014).
A More Embodied-Embedded Concept of the Mind
In contrast with the classical model of mind, the alternative conceives cognitive
functioning as an activity strongly linked with the body and position, and deeply
embedded in its own environment. The “embodied” position has been largely
defended by George Lakoff and his collaborators. He states that: “Our brains take
their input from the rest of our bodies. What our bodies are like and how they func-
tion in the world thus structures the very concepts we can use to think. We cannot
think just anything – only what our embodied minds permit” (Lakoff 2008; Lakoff
and Johnson 1999). In brief, his theory shows that the origin of our most complex
ideas comes from a metaphorical elaboration of motor-sensory activities in the
human body, and that we cannot think independently of these bodily constraints.
On the other hand, Andy Clark is among those who stress the dependency of the
individual mind on other minds, instruments and technologies. Being “embedded”
means to be part of a network in which cognition results from interactions inside a
system. As he says at the end of his famous book, Being There, “much of what we
commonly identify as our mental capacities may likewise, I suspect, turn out to be
properties of the wider, environmentally extended systems of which human brains
are just one (important) part” (Clark 1997, 2008).
The new position, developed in a more extensive way by others (Juarrero 1999),
implies a clear overcoming regarding the axiomatic individualism dominant in the
cognitive science and bets on an extensive and off-limits view of human cognition
that inevitably resorts to external means, such as language, writing and machines in
order not only to enhance its knowledge, but just to “think.” A similar stance has
been assumed in the way scientific research is carried on (Ziman 2006).
The attempt to integrate cognition, body, and environment is not new. Inspiration
has been provided by several thinkers in the field of Phenomenology, beginning
with the contributions of Merleau-Ponty. Philosophy of Mind has reached a similar
position, as authors like Burge and Putnam stress the deep implication between
“language users and psychological beings” that implies the social character of
meaning construction. In this sense, they should be considered “anti-individualists”
(Wilson 2004). A further argument in the same direction recalls the need of norma-
tive frames in order to construct mental states. Such standards and rules can be only
provided externally by a community where such rules have been long established.
In any case, it is significant that cognitive science has proposed several different
models in trying to describe the “context-sensitivity” of mind. One model is the
computational, which just resorts to external links. Models in the other extreme
point to a kind of “extended mind” or forms of “system thinking” where the indi-
vidual mind becomes just a part in a broader network of interactions. The proposal
of “distributed cognition” of Hutchins may be included in this type, and even the
concept of “group minds.” The models proposed by Merlin Donald and Andy Clark
resort to a system-like representation on the functioning of human cognition, which
requires interaction with the external. Obviously, it is not easy to determine the
limits of individual cognition (Wilson 2004).
Symbols and Metaphors as Central Cognitive Devices
The third characteristic of the new paradigm highlights the role of symbols in the
configuration and functioning of the human mind. At least since Deacon, it seems
clear that the symbolic capacity of the human mind has the highest importance in
advancing human cognition. The work of Gilles Fauconnier and Mark Turner should
be mentioned, revealing the symbolic mind’s hidden structure. Both have described
this process as a “blending” between perceptions or ideas, even from different
contexts, and giving rise to a new idea. The examples are infinite, but there is a list
of ways on how this dynamic works, since the simplest – framing – to the most
152 L. Oviedo
complex – double scope blending. The last are the most creative, as they bring
together inputs from very distinct and often “clashing” backgrounds, which trigger
the emergence of new structures (Fauconnier and Turner 2002).
The model provided by Fauconnier and Turner is relatively simple: the human
mind has developed a faculty which allows it to link and blend different perceptions
and representations, at the same time provides the building blocks for new blend-
ings in a process that carries cognition to its more abstract capacities. It is not just a
system of symbol formation, but on how the mind works and achieves its most
accomplished cultural products.
Lakoff is the best-known representative of “metaphors” theory as a key to under-
stand human cognition. The metaphor is not arbitrary, but arises from the human
body: its spatio-temporal constitution, its motor functions, and the functioning of
the senses. All human knowledge is deeply conditioned by this elementary struc-
ture, in terms that recall some ideas from the classic “transcendental philosophy.”
But there is more to this: a logic plan, a way to represent reality and to construct
even our most abstract concepts.
These developments are quite significant because they offer a very different path
beyond the computational model of the mind. They propose a more externalist
understanding of the mind, and point to activity that combines conscious and uncon-
scious processes. It is clear that the pool of symbols available is broadly enriched by
social and cultural provision, and that the culturally-available symbols co-evolve
with a cognitive architecture adapted to their use and management. Even if connec-
tionism has tried to overcome the flaws of the first computational and functionalist
models, these most recent developments clearly bring the functioning of mind and
language to a different level of complexity and to a different axiomatic, with deep
consequences for the understanding of some human abilities such as art, morality
and religion.
The New Externalist Orientation Applied to Art, Moral

and Religion
Until recently, most cognitive studies of religion have used models developed by the
internalist mainstream. Few studies dare to go beyond the standard model to apply
the externalist line to religious symbol formation and, in broad terms, to the
religious mind (Day 2004). Other fields have already benefitted from this extension.
In the study of art, aesthetic ideas can be seen as more related to culture and
symbolism than to the individual artist. Furthermore, realms like: morality, games,
humour, and affective perception in human relationships can benefit from this
alternative vision.
Going deeper, we may ask if such areas in human cognition and social behaviour
are just derivative products of more essential or central processes related to survival,
and how much they contribute to the human species development. It seems more
than apparent that in this case we are moving beyond the boundaries of sheer
cognitive studies and trying to define the essentials of human nature.
The results from recent application of cognitive externalist models to art are
available, and offer a good starting point. The collective book edited by Mark
Turner, The Artful Mind (2006) gathers most among the relevant scholars. Some of
the significant points are synthesized below. Along with them, some hypothetical
applications to the religious field may be suggested.
To start with, Deacon, among others, recalls the existence of a kind of “represen-
tational stance” – similar to Dennett’s “intentional stance” – by which he means a
tendency to “treat many things in the world as standing for something else, or as
conveying cryptic content” (Deacon 2006). ‘Play’ is an activity where such a stance
becomes more relevant, especially during infancy, where successive regulating
norms intervene to limit and order that dynamic. Symbols are the means and the
result of such an activity; they convey “cognitive-emotional patterns,” and contrib-
ute to language formation and communication. This process constitutes a central
feature in human evolution, requires a “mediation system” which allows for the
correct understanding and interpretation of those symbols, resulting in an infinite
capacity of combination and creativity.
The process described by Deacon is quite complex. Emotions play a great role,
and there are mechanisms to favour selection. But, at the same time, the symbolic
system helps to “alleviate emotional excess.” At this point, “Aesthetic cognition
may involve representational manipulation of emotional experiences that causes
them to differ in significant ways from the emotions common to other primates
(and mammals in general)” (Deacon 2006). It seems that aesthetic experience plays
a mediating role that renders emotions cognitively significant, and avoids them
becoming cognitively intractable.
Deacon resorts to the blending process coined by Turner and Fauconnier in order
to explain the mechanisms of aesthetic symbols and their powerful capacity to con-
vey and regulate emotions. One example is the mechanism of aesthetic representa-
tion present in all artistic manifestations. From a cognitive point of view, we need to
operate a kind of blend between what is represented and real life through a mecha-
nism called “suspension of disbelief” (Deacon 2006). In this way, art manages to
juxtapose representations and emotions in a kind of virtual world which corresponds
to real experiences.
A similar mechanism may be applied to humour and to moral cognition: “Like
art, ethics is emergent in the sense that its function is more a reflection of the form
of relationship that have been brought into being than of the component emotions
that are necessarily constitutive of the experience” (Deacon 2006).
The mechanism described by Deacon is at this point easier to understand, and
can be applied to the various realms we are discussing. Symbolic processes are able
to create “virtual worlds” or representations where real experiences and emotions
are connected or blended in order to supply useful knowledge, to orientate one’s
own behaviour, or simply to convey emotions. In my opinion, the same schema may
be applied not only to art, humour and ethics, but to religion. Indeed, religion may
easily be identified as a kind of representation where a blending is operated between
154 L. Oviedo
some emotional states and an intersubjective relationship perceived as transcendent.

Perhaps the blending could be described as a two-step blending: first between inter-
subjective experience and transcendence or absolute reality, and second between
this first blend and the emotions conveyed by real life intersubjective experience,
linking emotional states to representations of divinity.
But we still need a theory that fully covers the relationships between these three
realms of human cognition or symbols processing. If all three have been so deeply
related to each other, it could be possible to uncover a general common logic gov-
erning similar processes and leading to largely shared cultural forms, with clear
evolutionary implications. How is it that some religious symbols have resorted con-
spicuously to artistic representation, while others have refused such a path? How is
it that religion has in many (but not all) cases prompted ethical behaviour and
enforced moral codes? It seems apparent that the blending process does not stop at
the level of art or ethics, but that, at some point, religion, art and ethics blend in
order to constitute higher order symbols, powerful representations carrying the con-
veying force of each symbolic realm in order to provide strong motivation and guide
to individuals and entire societies.
There are surely other ways to obtain inspiration for a better understanding of
religious cognition from the new externalist models. One is the insistence by Mark
Turner on the potentiality of the most extreme forms of blending, the so called
“double scope blendings,” from which, after the clashing of very different inputs,
emerge new structures and symbols, promoting creativity and challenging the imag-
ination. Turner conceives this process as the ground dynamics of aesthetic creativ-
ity. Such ability is not just a waste of imagination, but a mechanism which provides
a vast capacity of daring experiments, allowing to discover new ways of dealing
with old challenges, “conferring an adaptive advantage” (Turner 2006a, b).
For Francis Steen, we can hardly understand aesthetics in evolutionary-adaptive
terms, because “unlike food and sex, art is its own reward.” It is rather “an appetite
for certain types of information – in a word, beauty is a kind of truth”; “we use it for
a most intimate and crucial task; that of constructing ourselves” (Steen 2006).
Steen’s theory sees in artistic impulses the reflection of a primary instinct which
expresses the need for some kind of information in our environment, important for
the construction of one’s own identity as an optimal relationship with the external
world, expressed in terms of “optimal order.” There resonate some classical theories
about art as harmony and order, but now invested with cognitive robes.
For his part, Merlin Donald sees art as a social construction located in “massive
distributed cognitive networks.” The nature of art is “meta-cognitive” resulting from
self-reflexive elaboration of first-hand cognitive products, and through social inter-
action. Its aim is “to influence the minds of an audience,” to deliberately engineer
the experiences of others (Donald 2006). Artists operate inside the social network
and drive it, but at the same time they need to resort to this cultural network to build
through mimetic processes. So art enriches, binds, and renders more accessible the
network of distributed cognition and memory, a sort of mutual enhancement which
helps to increase the range of available symbols, i.e. to enlarge the levels of informa-
tion and related communication.
Perhaps the economic insight by Douglas C. North can further our attempt to
collect ideas in order to build a better cognitive understanding of religion. In his
view, humanity has to deal at each time with the problem of uncertainty, and, to this
end, the human mind elaborates patterns by reducing uncertainty and rendering
reality more manageable. This activity is clearly supported by an active relationship
with the environment and culture, and helped by language and shared symbols.
Some kind of “uncertainty” can be approached only through “non-rational beliefs”,
including religion, magic, myths… “And indeed non-rational beliefs play a big part
in societal change” (North 2005).
Now it is possible to draw some insight for the understanding of religious cogni-
tion. Religious understanding depends on cognitive constraints and on a learned
ability to master a code or system of symbols present in the cultural-religious envi-
ronment. Thus, the religious-symbolic system serves to organize and moderate the
weight of religious emotions which otherwise would distort religious cognition.
Sometimes religion appears to be a cognitive system for the management of some
emotions, creating synergies and linking occasionally opposite feelings, as seems to
happen in the classical case described in the phenomenology of Rudolf Otto, where
religion combines numinous fear and awe, the “tremendous” and the “fascinat-
ing” – perhaps a blend of its own, too (Otto 1958). The role played by emotions in
religious experience is still far from being assessed accurately (Emmons 2005).
The symbolic realm of religion transfigures normal experience – as do other
symbolic systems – through a kind of “re-coding activity” that invests the original
meaning with new content which can be re-experienced in a coded form (Deacon
2006). Religious symbolic code endows normal experience with transcendence, of
absolute and extraordinary reference. Its function is not only emotional, or about
“emotion management,” but informative, providing criteria and order to normal
experiences that allows us to determine their importance. In other words, it helps to
cope with some uncertainty levels (North 2005). Of course, as more authors have
pointed out, such ability is socially embedded and requires constant reference to
external networks, which determine, from time to time, from one religious context
to another, the code’s function, its rules and applications. Remember, religion has
always been a social and a historical activity, with broadly shared codes.
On the other hand, religious symbolic systems result from many sorts of blend-
ings, providing a broad pool of patterns to deal with human and social situations.
Following Steen’s suggestion, religion, too, in the same way as art, provides infor-
mation relevant to building one’s own identity, as we often see in religious narra-
tives, dramas and rituals. Its scope is not so directly linked to the immediate survival
needs, but to a higher kind of need that humans require when they become symboli-
cally driven. The new status of “symbolic species” creates new demands. So, in the
new framework provided by Deacon and others, religion has less to do with “bio-
logical man” and more with “symbolic man”, even if both dimensions do not need
to be considered as exclusive.
It is difficult to understand religion so long if the “symbolic species” is not taken
into account as a serious break from the purely biologically-driven system describ-
ing human nature. Once symbols and their manipulation become a central part of
156 L. Oviedo
human cognitive ability, new demands arise and new resources are needed to satisfy
this new kind of being. At this level – and this may be empirically tested – being
able to build one’s own self-identity is as important as finding food or mating
(Alcorta and Sosis 2005).
In conclusion, religion, art and morals emerge as products of the symbolic ability
acquired by humans at some stage of their development. These symbolic realms are
not only products, but enhancers of symbolic activity, enriching and enlarging the
repertoire of available symbols, a process that supplies greater quantity of informa-
tion and improves still further the processing abilities in humans (Mythen 1996). In
the case of religion, this symbolic system recodes human experiences in order to
place them inside a framework of created meaning where they are linked to emo-
tions and help to build one’s own identity.
The Evolution of Religious Symbols: Some Peculiarities
Obviously, symbols evolve, and religious symbols change with time, giving form to
new expressions and concepts, sometimes of great complexity and depth. A good
theory of religion as a cognitive process of symbol management should be able to
reconstruct and order the available corpus gathering religious symbols, and provide
a history of their evolution.
Not everybody would share this premise. A study has revealed a frequent bias
affecting anthropologists who approach religious cultural phenomena, and particu-
larly Christian forms (Robbins 2007). It is called “continuity thinking.” As Robbins
puts it:
cultural anthropology has largely been a science of continuity. I mean by this that cultural
anthropologists have for the most part either argued or implied that the things they study –
symbols, meanings, logics, structures, power dynamics, etc. – have an enduring quality and
are not readily subject to change (Robbins 2007).
In other words, anthropologists seem to be bound to a kind of cognitive path

dependence, as they are habituated to take cultural items as permanent and resistant
to any evolution. Perhaps this kind of bias can help to explain the difficulties that
more cognitive anthropologists meet as they deal with religious processes far more
complex and evolved than they usually describe.
One of the most obvious precedents is Mircea Eliade’s attempt to organize the
morphology of religion, or to order the main forms which recur in more religious
traditions around the world. His project – dating from the forties – now becomes
suggestive from the perspective of a cognitive enterprise trying to reconstruct the
essential religious symbols and their synchronic and diachronic development
(Eliade 1958). How much this project could be pursued today, with the new tools
provided by cognitive science?
In my view, the phenomenological method has clearly anticipated several cogni-
tive developments, as a large literature demonstrates. Eliade’s religious morphology
constitutes a good example of how, from a historic and ethnographic basis, central
and essential religious symbols can be recorded and distributed. His list describing
“religious forms” – heaven, sun, moon, earth, rock, water, and tree – may be read
today as a kind of elementary blendings between nature elements and emotions of
transcendence and awe. Obviously, along history many of these “elementary forms”
had been subjected to “evolutionary pressures” resulting into new meanings invest-
ing the same traditional symbol, as Eliade acknowledges (Eliade 1991). Perhaps
this is not too difficult a job, especially when the historical religious sources are
available.
Another attempt to organize the evolution of religious symbols is the early work
of Robert Bellah, Religious Evolution (1970). Bellah proposed that such evolution
follows a logic of differentiation and increased complexity. This work has found a
continuity in his more recent big work Religion in Human Evolution (2011), recon-
structing the process that brings to the “Axial Age” and its universalistic religions.
Other attempt to organize the evolution of religious symbols is that undertaken
by Alcorta and Sosis (2005). They stress the ritual dimension as the natural frame
for the origin and development of religious symbols, which at the same time, helped
to codify ritual actions to enhance in-group cooperation and increase levels of cog-
nition. On their view, religious symbols play a kind of “ecological role” related with
the ability to develop new fitness strategies.
This raises the question of the role of evolutionary dynamics. Trying to put things
simply, every evolutionary process follows broadly three phases: random variations,
natural selection, and re-stabilization which allows for replication, giving place
again to new variations. It seems quite realistic to apply this model to religious
symbolic development (with the usual cautions concerning every evolutionary
explanation). The cultural-religious pool generates many symbolic variations. Some
of them, like the cross and star of David, manage to survive selective pressures, and
adapt to the symbolic needs of a population (enhancing and containing emotions,
providing information, reasserting the self, and especially, communicating tran-
scendence). Finally, the selected ones stabilize into symbolic frames and structures
pretty resistant to change and variation.
Indeed, some scholars propose that religious systems follow a kind of “adaptive
pattern.” Religions able to endure represent just a small fraction of the many reli-
gious forms which have existed in history. They stand for the most resistant forms,
or those best adapted to their environment; or which best meet human needs and/or
which promote survival. Religions grow by multiplication of its members in addi-
tion to growing by social networking. “The creeds (religion’s narrative theories) that
remain have survived because they have a good deal of corroboration and have not
yet been falsified” (Rolston 1999).
The purported pattern is but one possible way to understand the evolutionary
process. It is quite tautological and gives very little information. It just states that,
since religions are also “breading populations”, religious forms which have sur-
vived were the most adaptive, while the extinguished forms were less fit. What we
need instead are principles and methods which help us to follow the construction
and transformation of religious symbols within a religious tradition.
158 L. Oviedo
One criterion advanced by the individual-cognitive model is that symbols arise

and survive just because they are more prone to adapt to the constraints of some
cognitive domains in the human mind (Boyer 1993); or perhaps because they meet
some non-cognitive emotional need. Religious symbols just “fit” into the cognitive
patterns defined by some modules and some established functions. In my opinion,
when the alternative path of the externalist paradigm is followed, things become
much more complex. The quoted axiom – symbols adapt to mental and emotional
constraints – is quite obvious. The question is why some symbols are more success-
ful than others, why they change their content in time in a very plastic fashion.
From a formal point of view, it seems that we can reconstruct some “elementary
processes” of symbol formation, after considering the general models. At least two
fundamental ways are involved: the first is through blending, convergence, fusion,
and hybridity; the second follows the opposite way: through distinction, separation,
differentiation, contrast and specialization. For the sake of simplicity, we can call
them “synthetic” and “analytic” processes. At first sight, it seems that symbols are
the result of both procedures: on one hand, they develop blendings from simpler
perceptions, ideas or emotions; on the other hand, they try to distinguish themselves
from other available symbols inside a network or structure, where meaning is more
the result of contrast with other symbols and less of an external reference. Indeed,
religious ideas being quite abstract and intangible, it is very hard to find external
correspondence. As a result, they attach meaning through difference and contrast
inside a conceptual or symbolic system. Nevertheless this rule should take into
account that in many religions symbols are linked to material expressions, like ritu-
als, temples or images, and therefore religious symbols become embedded and
“materialize”, rendering them more accessible (Day 2004).
It is important to recall some basic assumptions of Communication Theory. The
main function of religious symbols is to transmit, exchange, and store relevant
information, in order to deal with “symbolic tasks.” Communication requires that a
difference or distinction be drawn. Systems Theory is helpful in this case, as it
shows that every social system needs for its constitution a binary code: economies
develop on the code of counting and discounting; politics relies on the code of
power and powerlessness; science relies on that of truth and untruth; and so on. For
Niklas Luhmann, religion arises on the code distinguishing between transcendence
and immanence. It seems that such a code constitutes the base of every religious
symbol, as it instantiates the contrast between natural reality and a realm beyond its
boundaries. It is important to recall that the binary code distinguishes, and at the
same time, binds both parts, which are kept together by the communicative process.
Symbol ever bonds – in a paradoxical way – what distinguishes (Luhmann [1987]
2000).
It is clear that in most cases evolution follows a pattern of increased complexity,
but such a pattern is sometimes harder to ascertain in the religious realm. In
Luhmann’s opinion, transcendence does not admit distinctions (“[Religion] sich
nicht als Dekomposition des Unbestimmbaren verstehet,” Luhmann 1977). This
view could explain some dynamics in the religious field, as for example the funda-
mentalist tendencies and resistance to changing one’s own traditions. But, on the
other hand, the history of religions has plenty of cases of evolutionary changes
which give place to new symbols. Often, the symbols remained (God, heaven, sin,
sacrifice…) but their meaning changed deeply through time (Campbell 2006).
Another reason for change is “surface contact” with a nearby symbolic system.
As it becomes more exposed to contact with foreign systems, a system adapts in
order to deal with new symbolic elements. Take, for example, the “cargo religions.”
Probably the course of evolution of religious symbols does not follow the same
logic that we meet in other communicative or symbolic generalized systems, but
its own.
A close reading of Luhmann’s texts on religion offers some clues as to how sym-
bols evolve following a general pattern of increasing complexity. The first is revealed
in an indication of his posthumous book on religion: while symbols in the first evo-
lutionary stage “were what they expressed” (Luhmann 2000); successively they lose
this stable quality (after the Reformation) and acquire a more malleable stance.
Now symbols “are diluted in signs, emblems, allegories” pertaining to a new “social
semantics” (Luhmann 2000). In the new cultural milieu, signs – including religious
symbols – become more ambiguous and thus able to signify in a less predictable
way, a process probably hard to fix by the religious system, raising the inevitable
question concerning the limits of such complexity, and the need to return to a more
stable system, where symbols become again attached to fixed meanings.
Another aspect of symbolic complexity involves the reference of symbols to a
network, where their meaning is more or less decided in their relationship to the
entire set. Increasing complexity means that religious symbols depend on ever more
extended networks, and their meaning is established by more links and couplings. It
seems that this process raises again the question of its limit, and the eventual need
to go back to recover some kind of “objective reference.” Perhaps a more useful
method would be to look at how symbols have evolved to solve new problems aris-
ing from the development of former ones, and from the need to cope with unsatisfy-
ing results in a symbolic system nearing exhaustion, no longer able to provide the
required answers to new questions and demands.
Religious symbols are already complex in their own right, at least as we observe
them from a subjective or phenomenological point of view. They are perceived as
internal to one’s own mind and as external and available to all; they convey cogni-
tive processes which may be seen as very costly, and – at the same time – as inex-
pensive; they go along ontogenetic and phylogenetic lines; they resort to both the
cognitive and the emotional dimensions (one of the main functions of religious
symbols is to evoke “positive” emotions in people who recognize their meaning).
Symbols are obviously conscious, but reflect hypothetic unconscious grounds or
“archetypes,” and they mix the figurative and the abstract in their way to express
experiences, expectancies and emotions. This evolved complexity may be seen as
an arrival point, as religious symbols have followed a long evolution. But we can
hardly reconstruct the process that ends in such an outcome.
From the evolutionary point of view, we are more concerned with the objective
increase of complexity that can be assessed in religious development, from simple
to more elaborate models. It is difficult to establish patterns of comparative
160 L. Oviedo
complexity in religious symbols. The analytic description about the content of

religious symbols throughout history requires some guidelines. As a research
program, it would be interesting to look at issues like: levels of transcendence, ways
of relationship with divinity, eschatological reference, ethical value, and gratuity vs.
merit. This research would focus on a historical tradition, like Christianity, in order
to apply the theory and to follow a concrete evolution.
Conclusion: The Scientific Study of Symbols and Its

Theological Meaning
Summarizing, some provisional conclusions arise from the described cognitive

model:
• Religious symbols are not isolated entities, but part of systemic networks with
some degree of complexity, where the meaning of every element depends on its
relationships with the others.
• Religious symbols evolve following a two-fold logic of blending and differenti-
ating. As a result, new symbols can integrate the richness of different compo-
nents and references, increasing complexity and at the same time becoming more
specialized.
• The logic describing the evolution of religious symbols is usually functional:
they arise, change, acquire new meanings or give room to new ones following the
needs in the religious management of a reality sector or experience; feed-back
process is paramount (Fig. 12.1).
Feedback pressures
Religious Surface contact

initial symbols
Increasing complexity,
new variations
Religious Religious
Limiting complexity
crisis evolution
Religious symbols
adjustment
Fig. 12.1 An elementary hypothetical schema of religious symbols and their evolution
• Religious symbols sometimes constitute a kind of “available stock.” New symbols

do not substitute and displace the older, but co-exist, as both retain some ability
to cope with religious needs.
• The evolution of religious symbols follows a rather systemic or holistic path, as
they are kept or changed with entire “modules” or “patterns” encompassing his-
torical and social events.
• Providing a better account on the content of the evolutionary process remains a
difficult challenge. Religious symbols do not point to a sheer increase of tran-
scendence or abstraction, but to complexity. New symbols are increasingly able
to mix transcendence and immanence, concretion and abstraction, grace and
merit. They extend their range of signification.
• This raises the question concerning the limits of complexity. Far from being
simple derivatives of computation, religious ideas and symbols expose the
needs born from a “symbolic species.” Humans require information and symbols
as much as they need food and shelter.
This summary clearly points to a substantial theological re-use of the available –
and still growing – corpus for the scientific study of symbols. Its applications are
apparent to fields like biblical studies, the theology of faith, theological anthropol-
ogy, theological hermeneutics and others. As has been hypothized from the begin-
ning, there is an alternative way to understand the relationship between scientific
enquiry and theology that becomes much more constructive and useful for both
sides of the –artificially driven – disciplinary divide.
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Lluis Oviedo is a full Professor for Theological Anthropology at the Pontifical University
Antonianum of Rome and Fundamental Theology at the Theological Institute of Murcia (Spain).
He holds a Doctorate in Theology with a specialization in Fundamental Theology from the
Gregorian University of Rome, where he has taught from 2003 to 2010. Dr. Oviedo currently leads
a project titled “Interdisciplinary and Empirical Theology” at the Antonianum University, which
focuses on the dialogue of theology with the human and social sciences, and is a team member of
the project on Human Specificity, funded by Templeton Foundation. He has previously served as
the editor of the periodical Antonianum (1997-2004), and is currently the editor of the Bulletin of
the European Society for the Study of Science and Theology (ESSSAT News & Reviews). He par-
ticipates regularly in International Conferences like the Annual Meeting of the Society for the
Scientific Study of Religion (SSSR), the European Conference on Science and Theology (ECST);
or the research group on Creditions, based in Graz (Austria).
Chapter 13
An Ontology of Creative Interaction
Carol Rausch Albright
Abstract Popular ontology today is naturalistic: material objects and substances

are seen as primary and their interactions as secondary; outcomes are predictable.
Growing edges of scientific research, however, point to interaction as the basic
engine of reality. These conclusions may be traced to disciplines from cosmology
and quantum physics to DNA expression and the variables underlying health. In
addition, there seems to be a built-in tendency toward increasing complexity and
interaction in the ways of the universe and of the earth. Theologians, including
Antje Jackelén, perceive that the Divine Reality that underlies the universe is not
eternally unchangeable but is intimately involved in time and continually interac-
tive. As intelligence and moral sense have emerged in human beings, we too will
have an interactive role in the emergence of the future.
Keywords Materialism • Ontology • Interactive causation • Big Bang • Evolution

• Life • Predictability • Epigenetics • Emergence
Every era has its favorite ontology—its commonsense assumptions regarding what
is really real. Today, popular ontology is largely naturalistic. We typically see mate-
rial objects as basic and assume that they interact in predictable ways. Of course,
people generally base their life decisions on what they think is “real,” and so these
assumptions have consequences for choices and values, and also for ideas about
religion.
It is actually no surprise that people should value material objects that have made
their lives easier and more pleasant. The twentieth century dramatically changed
life for millions through invention and distribution of useful material products—
central heat and indoor plumbing, electric lights and home appliances, personal cars
and farm machinery. The twenty-first century is revolutionizing information use and
C.R. Albright (*)

e-mail: albright1@aol.com

166 C.R. Albright
personal interaction through electronic communication and control. Keeping up

with change is not only pleasant and exciting; it also has social value.
Not only has technology influenced our assumptions about what is “really real.”
Our assumptions are even influenced by our language: words of course play a deep
role in human understanding of what is real. As Joseph Bracken observes, “Our
Western emphasis on nouns rather than verbs in our use of language preconditions
us to see reality in terms of things in themselves rather than as the here-and-now
byproducts or result of ongoing processes” (Bracken 2014).
Furthermore, traditional scientific research stands upon a related belief that the
laws of nature are a given and that these actions are predictable. This faith sustains
many in serious pursuit of scientific law. Such laws undergo periodic challenge, of
course, but changes are resisted. An example from history is the conflict between
those who believed that matter is continuous and those who believed that it was
divided up into atoms. Even in the early twentieth century, some believers in atoms
were tragically persecuted by university departments dominated by die-hard believ-
ers in continuous matter (Morowitz 2002).
Theological thinking has sometimes followed a parallel path, emphasizing for-
mulaic prescriptions for thought and behavior and ignoring perceptions of the depth
of religious reality. Confronting such formulas, some have abandoned religious
insight altogether, comparing it to belief in magic. On some level, we remain aware
of the messiness of life, its complex unpredictability, and its depths of meaning. Yet
we persist in attempting to solve these mysteries through material means, or to
describe them with scientific—or religious–formulas.
However, it is concurrently true that both the sciences and theological under-
standing are voicing new modes of organizing knowledge, and that these changes
are in certain ways related. It is not surprising that this should be so. Understandings
of both the physical world and of religious thought have changed in response to one
another throughout human history (Albright 2002).
Recent scientific findings point to the basically creative role of interactions in the
formation of material reality and outcomes for living things. Below, we will cite
various examples of these findings, in studies ranging from Big Bang cosmology to
social causation of illness. In these and other disciplines, the emphasis is increas-
ingly upon “an ever-expanding network of processes or systems in which the pat-
terns of existence and activity that exist between and among their component parts
are more important than the parts themselves.” For we live in a world of “intricately
interrelated processes or systems rather than in a world populated by individual enti-
ties that first exist in their own right and then take on relationships” (Bracken 2014).
Examples of Interactive Causation
When confronted with any puzzling sequences of events, people ask, “Which came
first—the chicken or the egg?” Here, perhaps one might ask, “Which came first,
interaction or matter?”
13 An Ontology of Creative Interaction 167
The Big Bang
When we are confronting issues of “first”—really first—we are obliged to examine

what is believed to have taken place at the very genesis of the cosmos. In today’s
scientific terms, that was the Big Bang, followed by the events of the First Three
Minutes as described by Steven Weinberg (1988). According to the Standard Model
that has persisted and become more detailed over half a century of research, physical
reality was initially contained in an infinitely small space known as the Singularity.
Suddenly the “packet” of energy within the Singularity flew apart! Its contents became
sorted into various species of particles. (In conventional English, the word particle
means a tiny piece of matter. In physics talk, however, a particle is an extremely small
aggregation of either matter or energy.) Such particles have been classified and named
according to their spin. Initially, all of them comprised only energy.
Not everyone is aware that light is pure energy. Photons are packets of energy
that have no mass. Their pure energy is visible to us in the wavelengths that our reti-
nas can detect; in other wavelengths, they may be experienced as the ultraviolet
light that burns our skin or the microwave radiation that cooks our food. The scrip-
tural account of the beginning in Genesis is correct when it reports that the first
phenomena involved only light.
Although there was light, there was no mass—that is, there was no material sub-
stance. Only when a certain type of particle called the Higgs boson interacted with
other sorts of massless particles did matter come into being. So, considering the
First Three Minutes, which was really primary—interaction or matter?
And, what might have preceded interaction? That is a question for religion, or
speculation.
Interaction Forms the Universe
The primal explosion flung particles of mass and of energy over the enormous area
of what became the universe. It expanded extremely rapidly. The particles were dis-
tributed somewhat randomly, so that some areas of space contained more particles
than others did. Conveniently for our thesis, and for the outcome, particles naturally
interact. They are attracted to one another through forces of gravity. Nearby particles
found one another and grouped together. As particles grouped together, they formed
atoms. The atoms formed molecules; initially they were either hydrogen or helium.
By grouping together, clusters of atoms and particles gained more gravity and
attracted even more matter. A sufficient aggregation of matter formed a proto-star,
and when even more matter arrived, the pressure of gravitational attraction at the
center of the star caused nuclear fusion to take place. This is a force that tends to
push matter apart; at some point, the forces of gravity and of repulsion created a
reasonably stable star. The strong nuclear force at the core caused atoms to merge
and form elements as heavy as iron. The strong nuclear force also produced electro-
168 C.R. Albright
magnetic radiation, which was absorbed by outer layers of the star. As these heated
up, they emitted starlight.
At some point the nuclear energy at the center of such a star will be used up; stars
at that point first become much larger and form “red giants”, and then shrink to
become “white dwarfs.” This is the predicted fate of our sun, millions of years hence.
The very largest stars, however, have a different fate. The forces at their core are
so great that they form some extremely heavy elements. However, these stars too
eventually run out of fuel at the core, and nuclear fusion stops. Gravity wins, the star
collapses, and then, on the rebound, explodes. Such explosions, which are highly
visible to human observers, are called supernovae. They scatter the star’s material
back into space. Eventually, forces of gravity once again draw these fragments back
together, and a new, “second-generation” star is born. Today, we can distinguish
first-generation and second-generation stars by seeing whether they contain
extremely heavy elements. We can do this because different chemicals produce dif-
ferent frequencies of starlight.
Our sun is of at least the second generation; both the sun and its planets contain
heavy trace elements that are only formed in supernovae. The heavy trace elements
in our bodies, such as zinc, copper, and iodine, are necessary to life; all of them were
once in an exploding giant star.
Life and Interaction
The age of the earth is estimated at about 4.5 billion years (Bratermine 2013). Fossil
finds indicate that life began more than 2.3 million years ago. The search is on for
other planets able to support life of any kind; so far none has been found, but there
are many star systems left to examine.
How life began is hotly contested. It seems safe to assert that interactions were
central to the process. Certainly they are necessary for life to continue. Metabolism
requires the intake of nutrients and the excretion of waste. Reproduction requires
separation and regrouping of DNA, in plants and animals. Although some one-
celled life forms can complete such a process all by themselves, all others must
mate, whether by pollination, random fertilization of eggs, or internal fertilization.
Birds and mammals must care for their young, a complex and vital interaction.
Many kinds of mammals survive and thrive only through collaboration in a
group—wolves, lions, monkeys and apes are prime examples. Elephants, as well as
cetaceans such as whales and dolphins, have ways of communicating over long
distances that are only now being decoded (Benvenuti 2014).
The history of hominids goes back about 5 million years, but there were many
variants, and almost all species died out. The sole survivor, Homo sapiens, is very
recent, probably originating less than 150,000 years ago (Tattersal 2015). Human
beings have assumed a dominant position in the hierarchy of life chiefly because of
their means of interaction. Although much remains to be learned about the
communication of other animals, as Benvenuti (2014) makes clear, humans do have
highly developed means of communication—oral language, written language, elec-
tronic language. These forms of language enabled successively greater powers of

record keeping and communication. Beginning with hunter-gatherers, humans
invented increasingly complex and interactive forms of social organization—
extended families, tribes, tribal alliances, monarchies, and multi-leveled govern-
ment. Economic efforts have developed trade routes, bazaars, chain stores, and
multinational corporations. The arts bring people together in other ways, and new
forms of communication are developing at a rapid rate.
In light of this history and its benefits, it should not be surprising to learn that
human beings seem actually to requireinteraction for their own physical well being.
In 1988, Science reported a meta-analysis showing that “social isolation is on a par
with high blood pressure, obesity, lack of exercise, or smoking as a risk factor for
illness and early death” (House et al. 1988). It was not then known how the lack of
fulfilling social interaction could influence the chemical balances of the body, the
heart and lungs and bodily fluids that support life.
John Cacciopo and William Patrick have studied these issues in detail. As they
report, considerable research has shown that lonely people tend to feel unprotected,
alone, or even endangered. A sense of endangerment leads to elevation of the hor-
mone cortisol, which makes the heart pump harder and shuts down the digestive
system so that a person can fight against whatever threat is being perceived. This
reaction was helpful when the threat was a tiger; today, it tends to do more harm
than good. Research has shown that even when lonely people do not feel endan-
gered, they chronically experience constriction of the small blood vessels; this con-
dition increases the work that the heart must do to pump blood through the body
(Cacioppo and Patrick 2008). Their quality of sleep is diminished, with various
health consequences. By contrast, positive social interactions tend to increase secre-
tion of the hormones oxytocin and vasopressin, which stimulate feelings of well-
being and social bonding, and also improve the function of various bodily systems
(Cacioppo and Patrick 2008).
Such findings cast a new light on the former (and now obsolete) understanding
that each person’s identity is largely determined by his or her DNA. The human
genome—the sum of our genetic heritage–is encoded as DNA sequences within 23
chromosome pairs, which are found in cell nuclei. We actually have less information
encoded in our DNA than many other animals do; more of our identity is left to be
shaped by learning and experience—most often, by interaction. Our DNA can
“express” itself in a number of ways, and a person’s experience tends to determine
which expression prevails. Such events and outcomes are studied by a growing dis-
cipline known as epigenetics.
The Desire for Predictability
In the face of all this evidence, we still look for predictability. One of the core
assumptions of popular culture is the belief that material components always inter-
act in predictable ways. We are only beginning to doubt that all medicines have the
same effects in all individuals. Some physicians inquire into the possible loneliness
170 C.R. Albright
of their patients; many consider it quite secondary to the chemistry involved. We

pay for personal DNA analysis, believing that it will unlock all the secrets of our
identity, regardless of the effects of experience. It has been almost a century since
the originators of quantum physics showed that subatomic particles behave in basi-
cally unpredictable ways, and now our smartphones depend upon quantum effects.
Yet, many people today retain the deterministic beliefs that characterized the sci-
ence of the nineteenth century.
Chaos Theory, Self-Organizing Systems, and Emergence
How, in fact, did all the elements of the universe, the earth, of life, become orga-
nized? Were causes and effects really predictable and deterministic? Many research-
ers today think not.
At dimensions far larger than the subatomic, many sets of interactions, called
chaotic systems, are unpredictable because there are simply too many sensitive vari-
ables to track. The interactions bring about results that are in principle predictable,
but we are unable to gather and process enough information to predict them, even
with our best computers. An example is the “Chinese butterfly effect” upon the
weather, in which the actions of a random butterfly in China disturb the actions of
the air. This disturbance acts upon other air currents, which have further effects.
Within a few days, the consequences of the Chinese butterfly’s actions may affect
the weather in Chicago. No one can analyze all the interactions of the air currents
required to bring this about.
In contrast to chaotic systems, there are many other natural systems that are truly,
by nature, unpredictable. Their components have a tendency to interact and to
become more intricately organized as a result. This process is called complexifica-
tionandemergence. One of the important characteristics of complexification is that
it gives rise to phenomena that are new and could not have been predicted by observ-
ing their predecessors. As John Haught notes,
Biophysicist Harold Morowitz observes that in the history of the universe there have been
no less than twenty-eight distinct stages of emergence (Morowitz 2002). The most eye-
catching of these, of course, are the appearance of life on earth out of lifeless physical
precursors . . . , and then the relatively recent flowering of critical intelligence. But the
emergence of increasingly complex systems has been occurring in less flashy ways from the
first microsecond of cosmic origins. And as we stand here 13.7 billion years after the Big
Bang, the adventure of emergence continues. Indeed, under our feet and behind our backs
here on earth a new emergent reality is already taking shape in the form of a globalized
human culture (Haught 2006).
Yet, the emergences, while unpredictable, are not wildly random. Paul Davies
has described the situation as follows:
The universe is undeniably complex, but its complexity is of an organized variety. Moreover,
this organization was not built into the universe at its origin. It has emerged from primeval
chaos in a sequence of self-organizing processes that have progressively enriched and com-
plexified the evolving universe in a more or less unidirectional manner. (Davies 1994)
And not only do systems complexify from the bottom up, but large systems influ-
ence the smaller systems that comprise them. Arthur Peacocke asks whether “we
not properly regard the world as a whole as a total system so that it’s general state
can be a ‘top-down’causative factor in, or constraint upon, what goes on at the
myriad levels that comprise it?” (Peacocke 1993). In fact, he notes, “This new
awareness of the unpredictability, open-endedness and flexibility inherent in many
natural processes and systems . . . does help us to perceive the natural world as a
matrix within which openness and flexibility and, in humanity, freedom might natu-
rally emerge” (Peacocke 1993).
In such an open world, there is room for human choice. According to John Searle,
“at the most fundamental level we have come to think that it is possible to have
explanations of natural phenomena that are not deterministic.” In fact, “the psycho-
logical experience of freedom [seems] so compelling that it would be absolutely
astounding if it turned out that at the psychological level it was a massive illusion,
that all of our behavior was psychologically compulsive” (Searle 2004).
In an interactive world, there is room for genuine human choice. There is enough
predictability to support realistic assessments, enough response to make the choices
meaningful.
The Process Continues
How can we deal with processes that are predictable and unpredictable, bottom-up
and top-down, constrained and free? Morowitz reflects on these issues: “The unfold-
ing of the universe is not totally determined; neither is it totally random. The truth
must lie somewhere in between. We have to give up simplistic approaches. The
world is far more complicated than was envisioned by earlier philosophers. To the
theological, the selection rules are at least the intermediate between God’s imma-
nence and the development of our world. Trinitarians would designate this as the
Holy Spirit.” Yet, there has been “remarkably little attempt to understand the spirit
as intermediate between physical law and humanness,” nor have thinkers addressed
the emergence of a human sense of good and evil and the consequences of this
moral dimension. With the evolution of the human mind, we can generate new
emergences that were not part of the presapient world (Morowitz 2002).
There is no reason to believe that we are near the end of this story. Continuing
interaction among underlying physical conditions, human decisions, and the Spirit
will lead to emergences unforeseen. (As Morowitz observes, it is hard to predict
emergences before they happen.) Because future emergences are partly undeter-
mined by natural law, important choices lie open to human beings; human participa-
tion in the interactions of the future will help to determine what comes next. The
intelligence that has inexplicably appeared among human beings, the relative free-
dom of choice that we have, form part of the dance of forces that will nudge the world
into its next emergence. Perhaps, as Antje Jackelén suggests, our freedom exists in
concert with the actions of the power that stands in, with and under the universe.
172 C.R. Albright
For whatever reason, change and interaction continue to pervade the universe
today. It has been evident since the 1920s that the universe is still expanding; the
source of the requisite increasing energy is the subject of much current research and
controversy (The Economist 2012). Furthermore, continuing interaction and change
characterize the universe, on every scale—from star systems to cells. Dynamic
forces of some sort are operative. Could these mysterious forces be trails of the
mysterious power behind its existence—a force that is both creative and interactive?
Perhaps this force, sometimes called God, lies behind the mystery that some people
over the millennia—well-known prophets and anonymous seekers– have felt inter-
acts with them as well.
Clearly, self-organization seems to be built in to the ways of the universe,
although, as Morowitz points out, no one has explained how it works. Thomas
Nagel (2012) has recently attracted a good deal of negative attention by suggesting
that the universe has a teleological bias toward self-organization. Many of his critics
fear that he is leaving an opening for theism that they cannot accept, though Nagel
himself is no theist.
Perhaps one might better understand such harsh rejection of theism by consider-
ing the supposed nature of the God who is being rejected. The proposal of a material
God, somewhere in the heavens, pulling puppet strings to control all that takes
place, could indeed seem unacceptable – for a materialist, and for many others as
well. Faced with that alternative, many would prefer to believe that human beings,
limited as they are, can design or discern a moral code, a guide to life, develop a
reverent appreciation of nature, and do the best they can. It is true that the moral
codes currently being proposed owe much of their content to those provided by
theistic traditions. To face a world truly without intrinsic values may be more fright-
ening and disorienting than many would like to acknowledge.
A Proposal
In her book Time and Eternity (Zeit und Evigkeit), Antje Jackelén considers the
interactive nature of God over the course of time—at least as we experience time.
Some believers describe an eternal God who endures unchanging throughout eter-
nity. In fact, time might have no significance for such a God. And it is hard to imag-
ine that such a God could be interactive, for the consequences would disturb God’s
eternal sameness. To trust in an eternal, unchanging God is, in some ways, like the
response of one who believes in an impersonal, predictable reality: no unexpected
events will crop up; there will be no truly open future to consider.
However, there are other ways to think of the deity. Jackelén points, for example,
to understandings of God in the Old Testament, which may in fact be more congru-
ent with experience. While there have been many understandings of God as eternal
and unchanging, the ancient texts seldom reflect this view.
[I]n those Old Testament passages in which one would expect to find mention of an eternal
God, one instead finds the loyal, jealous, or angry God. An antithetical concept of absolute
eternity retreats, giving way to a relation-oriented concept of a God who, in relation to guilt
and faith, influences time and the world. (Jackelén 2005)
Citing the thought of Jürgen Moltmann, Jackelén observes that “at the moment
of origin, time emerged from eternity…. Temporal creation is an open system”
(Jackelén 2005). Thus, “[b]ecause time cannot be abstracted, but occurs instead as
lived time, it cannot be captured theologically in a fixed system. It can be talked
about only under the auspices of dynamism and relationality” (Jackelén 2005). A
relational, interactive understanding of time implies that a relational, interactive
force, whom we know as God, underlies the universe and our own experience of it.
How might this God be relational? The centuries of Biblical narratives, culminat-
ing with the accounts of Jesus and response to his presence, offer a rich source of
understandings. Many seekers today have felt that a relational God offers guidance
and opportunity, sometimes nudges our desires, plans, and projects, and does so
with love. Individuals and groups may choose to follow such opportunity, or not.
The relational reality seems, however, to be permanently present, continuing to
offer interactions to individuals, and no doubt for other living things as well.
As John Haught has taught in various writings, including the recent Science and
Faith: A New Introduction (2013), a universe with such a God cannot cease to be
dynamic. It may be that we human beings are the crown of creation as we might like
to think—imperfect as we certainly are. But it also seems possible that an interac-
tive God in an interactive universe will lead us, and the cosmos, into a future that is
not foreseeable by us. Considering the degree of change that is occurring, and its
speed, one can speculate only regarding the world of the next few generations to
come. With those limitations, we may try to select actions that will lead to a genera-
tive and just future. In our responses to God, we can look forward to such a future—
with anticipation and surprise.
Beyond our limited view, we cannot really anticipate. We can only attempt to
walk carefully but joyously into the future.
References1
Albright, Carol Rausch. 2002. Growing in the image of god. Ottawa, Ontario: Novalis
Benvenuti, Anne. 2014. Spirit unleashed: Reimagining human-animal relations. Eugene: Cascade
Books.
Bracken, Joseph A. 2014. The world in the trinity: Open-ended systems in science and religion.
Minneapolis: Fortress.
Bratermine, Paul S. 2013. How science figured out the age of the earth. Scientific American,
October 20.
1
Much of the information on physics and cosmology that is included in this article I learned from
my husband, John R. Albright, a physicist, over the course of years.
174 C.R. Albright
Cacioppo, John T., and Wiliam Patrick. 2008. Human nature and the need for social connection.
New York: Norton.
Davies, Paul. 1994. The unreasonable effectiveness of science. In Evidence of purpose: Scientists
discover the creator, ed. John Marks Templeton. New York: Continuum.
Haught, John F. 2006. Is nature enough?: Meaning and truth in the age of science. New York:
Haught, John F. 2013. Science and Faith: A New Introduction. Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press.
House, J.S., K.R. Landis, and D. Umbertson. 1988. Social relationships and health. Science 241:
540–545.
Jackelén, Antje. 2005. Time & eternity: The question of time in church, science, and theology
(German edition 2002). Philadelphia: Templeton Foundation Press.
Morowitz, Harold J. 2002. The emergence of everything: How the world became complex.
New York: Oxford University Press.
Nagel, Thomas. 2012. Mind & cosmos: Why the materialist Neo-Darwinian conception of nature
is almost certainly false. New York: Oxford University Press.
Peacocke, Arthur. 1993. Theology for a scientific age: Being and becoming—Natural, divine and
human. Minneapolis: Fortress.
Searle, John R. 2004. Freedom and neurobiology: Reflections on free will, language, and political
power. New York: Columbia University Press.
Tattersal, Ian. 2015. Homo sapiens. Encyclopedia Britannica.
The dark side of the universe. The Economist, Feb 18, 2012, print edition. At http://www.econo-
mist.com/node/21547760
Weinberg, Steven. 1988. The first three minutes: A modern view of the origin of the universe,
Updated ed. New York: Basic Books.
Carol Rausch Albright Visiting Professor of Religion and Science at the Lutheran School of
Theology at Chicago, has spent much of her life working in religion, science, or a combination
thereof. Because there was then no career path for women in theology, she chose publishing and
found opportunity in science journalism. Her publications included some 200 articles for World
Book Encyclopedia; she also edited MBA textbooks for Dow-Jones Irwin as well. She was
recruited to write a monthly medical newsletter for SmithKline, which eventually circulated by
request to about 30,000 physicians and was honored for journalistic excellence. The opportunity to
become Executive Editor of Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science finally allowed her to work in
both religion and science. After nine years there, she joined her husband, John R. Albright, as
regional co-director of the John Templeton Foundation Religion and Science Course Program. She
has written, edited, or co-authored four books and 15 articles and book chapters in religion and
science; reviewers included The New Yorker and Christian Century.
Chapter 14
Science and Religion Being Moved
by Aesthetics
Knut-Willy Sæther
Abstract The science-religion dialogue is interdisciplinary and recent years we see

scholars emphasizing aesthetics as yet another aspect in the dialogue. Aesthetics,
already included in some theological discourses such as theological aesthetics, cov-
ers a number of perspectives and sub-disciplines. This article sheds light on how
aesthetics contributes to the development of the dialogue. Alejandro García-Rivera
is an important contributor to the debate, by addressing aesthetics as an additional
element in this interdisciplinary dialogue between natural science and theology. The
first part describes his interdisciplinary method, while the second concerns the rel-
evance of aesthetics to the dialogue, where beauty in nature is central. In the third
part some critical constructive remarks are raised on the understanding of beauty in
nature. Garcia-Rivera’s approach is important and relevant, although his concept of
beauty in nature is too narrow. To develop a more profound dialogue between aes-
thetics, natural science, and theology, we need to expand the concept of beauty in
nature and include the phenomena of the sublime and wonder.
Keywords Aesthetics • Natural science • Theology • Interdisciplinary • Nature •

Beauty • Wonder • Sublime • Alejandro García-Rivera
Introduction
The science-religion dialogue (SRD) is interdisciplinary. SRD, as we know from

Ian Barbour’s groundbreaking 1966 book Issues in Science and Religion, involves
numerous disciplines, although natural science and theology have been most thor-
oughly explored. For Barbour and first-generation scientist-theologians, the dia-
logue emerged from their scientific experience with a deep interest in theology
K.-W. Sæther (*)

Department of Religious Studies, Volda University College, 500, N-6101 Volda, Norway
e-mail: setherk@hivolda.no

176 K.-W. Sæther
(Polkinghorne 1996). In addition to natural science and theology, philosophy has

been a major contributor to dialogue in areas such as philosophy of science, philoso-
phy of religion, and epistemology. Other disciplines in SRD are anthropology, psy-
chology, and history, not to mention aesthetics, a more recent rising voice in the
debate.
This article sheds light on how aesthetics is increasingly influencing SRD. What
is the actual contribution from aesthetics brought into the dialogue, and in which
way may aesthetics develop SRD? By asking these questions, the road of aesthetic
experience in nature becomes important.
To explore this, I will turn to Alejandro García-Rivera and examine his reasons
for addressing aesthetics as a dialogue partner to natural science and religion. The
first part of this article describes his interdisciplinary method, while the second
concerns the relevance of aesthetics to the dialogue. García-Rivera emphasizes a
particular understanding of beauty in nature, as a common ground in an intersection
between aesthetics, natural science, and theology. In the third part I will give some
critical-constructive remarks to his approach. I follow two directions of evaluation,
one of how he understands beauty in nature and one of whether the concept of
beauty in nature is sufficient as an approach for engaging in the tripod of aesthetics,
science, and theology. I show how the intersection between aesthetics, natural sci-
ence, and theology must be expanded by exploring the phenomena of the sublime
and wonder in nature.
The Methodological Contribution from Aesthetics
García-Rivera’s interdisciplinary method is described as a process of thinking

inspired by Charles Peirce, taking place as an “(…) interpretive musement-thinking
at ‘treetop’ level” (García-Rivera 1999: 8). The method is not only conceptual, or
perceptual, but it “(…) finds its home in the ‘in-between’ of heaven and earth, ‘tree-
top’ level thinking, which allows one a vision of the whole” (García-Rivera 1999:
8). Using the tree metaphor, García-Rivera starts with the branches and continues to
discover a stem. He combines this approach with an aesthetic methodology
described as interlacing, weaving together perspectives from different disciplines.
By doing this, we gain a more holistic and profound understanding of reality, he
says. This is not a new perspective, he argues, but an approach weaving across
already existing perspectives (García-Rivera 2003: xi). With reference to Josiah
Royce, he says this aesthetic approach consists of breadth of perspective, coherence
of vision, and a personal touch (García-Rivera 2009: x).
García-Rivera does not aspire to address aesthetics in a minimalistic way in the
interdisciplinary discussion. Aesthetics is of great importance as a dialogue partner
for both natural science and theology and can be the discipline for linking the two
disciplines. García-Rivera refers to Christopher Alexander, who claims we can
achieve the qualities of perspective, coherence of vision, and personal touch through
the process of interlacing. We will then be able to discover what he describes as
centers in which many perspectives find a unity that moves the heart. The outcome
14 Science and Religion Being Moved by Aesthetics 177
is to grasp the unity within the complexity of reality. This is possible through the
experience of beauty, says García-Rivera.
He maintains that beauty brings a specific kind of knowledge, known only by
being enjoyed: “(…) while the nature of beauty may elude us, its experience is
accessible to all” (García-Rivera 2009: xi). An aesthetic methodological approach
is not a traditional form of academic argumentation with demonstration and argu-
ment, but emphasizes another approach to our understanding of reality: “I am after
grasping the immense web of fragile human interconnectedness with one another
and with the rest of the cosmos. I believe ‘interlacing’ disciplined perspectives
toward gaining aesthetic insight can help us grasp this complex interconnectedness
by discovering the ‘centers’ that bring about a place of Beauty on Earth” (García-
Rivera 2009: xi).
By interlacing all threads from different disciplines, such as aesthetics, natural
science, and theology, we might discover what García-Rivera describes as centers,
such as “(…) place, heaven and earth, beautiful form, cosmic sacramentals, dynamic
formal causality, the ‘where-ness’ and ‘what-ness’ of place, the twin human helix of
human frailty and abundant life, the fully cosmic Christ and the equally cosmic
Holy Spirit” (García-Rivera 2009: xii). This comprehensive expression points to
central thoughts and topics in his writings, and some are particularly relevant for
aesthetics, as will be elaborated in the next section.
García-Rivera’s aesthetic-methodological approach is his starting point for
developing his theological aesthetics and theological cosmology. His methodologi-
cal considerations are influenced by pragmatism and phenomenology. García-Rivera
relates to Peirce and American pragmatism, and to phenomenology and Teilhard de
Chardin, among others. His methodology expresses non-reductionism by saying we
need to grasp the overwhelming complexity of connections in reality. His holistic
approach implies numerous challenges in both clarity and style of writing.
The Relevance of Aesthetics to the SRD
The core of García-Rivera’s reflections on interdisciplinary dialogue between aes-

thetics, natural science, and theology suggest that “(…) empirical aesthetics pro-
vides the foundation for a living synergy between theology and science”
(García-Rivera et al. 2009: 243). In this second part, I use two headings to describe
how García-Rivera brings aesthetics into the discussion: (1) theological cosmology
and theological aesthetics, and (2) place and beautiful forms.
Theological Cosmology and Theological Aesthetics
According to García-Rivera, both traditional SRD and theological reflections on

ecology lack “(…) power to illuminate faith and capture the imagination” (García-
Rivera 2009: 6). The problem is how the cosmos as a whole is neglected.
178 K.-W. Sæther
García-Rivera draws on resources from Elizabeth Johnson, and says we need a new
approach to our understanding of creation. He suggests not only a new theology of
creation, but that cosmology is a framework within which all theological topics can
be rethought. Throughout his elaboration of this cosmology, he uses the metaphor
of cosmos as the garden of God, and advocates a theological cosmology. The main
question he addresses is, are we at home in the cosmos?
How does García-Rivera understand cosmology? He appreciates George Ellis’
insight into a broad cosmology. Ellis says that cosmology includes five elements:
The nature of the physical universe, the question of creation, the issue of the final
state, the place of humanity in the universe, and the meaning of existence. However,
García-Rivera criticizes Ellis for saying that scientific analysis is capable of meta-
physical synthesis. García-Rivera argues for adding a metaphysical synthesis to sci-
entific analysis (García-Rivera 2009: 8). The latter mode of relating science and
theology is a common approach in SRD (Sæther 2011: 23ff).
García-Rivera’s theological cosmology sees God in all things and attempts to
illuminate the inner meaning of phenomena by allowing them to move the human
heart. Theological cosmology is thus aesthetics of creation, where humans are not
only observers but also participants. On this, García-Rivera is influenced by Teilhard
de Chardin’s understanding of humans as a phenomenon.
What then is García-Rivera’s new contribution to the dialogue between theology
and natural science? Aesthetics makes the difference: “I believe aesthetic insight
can give rise to a new cosmological consciousness in theology. Such a conscious-
ness has profound implications” (García-Rivera 2009: 9). Input from aesthetics
enables us to rethink the concept of creatio ex nihilo, providence, and the under-
standing of hope, he says. The perspective in such a theological cosmology is
broader and more profound than just relating insights from natural science to topics
in theology. Theological cosmology aims for an understanding of the very nature of
the universe and the place for humanity in the cosmos.
Aesthetics of creation may be thought of as theological aesthetics. García-Rivera
believes we need a more profound approach of aesthetics than traditional philo-
sophical aesthetics, asking the question, what moves the human heart? This brings
us closer to the mysterious experience of the truly beautiful, he says. When we add
a religious dimension to the experience of the truly beautiful, we can describe this
as theological aesthetics, a topic he elaborates by drawing upon resources from
Richard Viladesau (1999), Hans Urs von Balthasar (1982–1991), and Teilhard de
Chardin (1975, 1979); (García-Rivera 2009).
Starting from theology, we have two perspectives that are relevant for developing
theological aesthetics, according to García-Rivera. One is the understanding that
God is beauty and the source of beauty. The other is that beauty can be received and
experienced by humans (García-Rivera 1999: 10). García-Rivera argues for the
theological importance of showing the relationship between beauty and the experi-
ence of beauty (García-Rivera 2008: 170). This can be done through a trinitarian
approach, emphasizing the Spirit (García-Rivera 2009: 110). Beauty is a quality in
the triune God and therefore a relational quality.
The relevance seems clear for theology, he argues. Without a language for expe-
riencing beauty, we will not be able to express faith, humanity, and the church’s
sacramental function in the world, he says. García-Rivera refers to Teilhard de
Chardin, where the beauty of the natural world and the beauty of Christ are related
(García-Rivera 2009: 47). Teilhard describes Christ’s beauty as light radiating
through the world of matter. The phenomenon of light comes from within, from the
depth of creation. This light radiates through the earthly forms, creates the forms,
and is in a special way present in the resurrected Christ. Thus, we see that García-
Rivera’s theological aesthetics and his concept of theological cosmology are
interwoven.
Place and Beautiful Forms
With Teilhard’s phenomenology as a background, García-Rivera addresses the

question again: Are we at home in the cosmos? We can reformulate the question as,
when cosmos is so deeply interwoven, both from the outside and from within, what
is the state of affairs with humanity as an interwoven part of this totality? To shed
light on this, García-Rivera develops place and beautiful forms.
Theological cosmology emphasizes place as a fundamental category. Various
approaches to the meaning of place can enable theology to address the fundamental
dynamic character of the universe, revealed by natural science. García-Rivera refers
to Gaston Bachelard, who says that place is about the interior dimension of reality
(García-Rivera 2009: 105f).
This approach helps us reflect on where something is and where it is going: “If
we cannot ask where things are going then there is no intelligible way to speak of
the future (….) Place gives the future intimacy” (García-Rivera 2009: 104). The
dimension of place develops a cosmic view of nature, where phenomena have a
name (expressed as the “what-ness” of things) and a destination (expressed as the
“where-ness” of things). This opens up an interior dimension of all creatures char-
acterized by beautiful forms (García-Rivera 2009: 108). Based on insight of com-
plex dynamic systems, we might revitalize the category form. Such an approach
may help us to grasp the “what-ness” of things, and thus contribute to our under-
standing of the “where-ness” of things as well. The classical understanding of form
only addressed the “what-ness,” but in a dynamic system the “where-ness” can be
elaborated as well.
Scientific support for this “where-ness” is found in the insight from biology on
dynamic living forms: “Dynamic systems are marked by forms of striking, dynamic
beauty. These forms emerge from the ‘where-ness’ of open, dynamic systems simul-
taneously revealing the ‘what-ness’ of the system” (García-Rivera 2009: 107).
Natural living forms reveal a cosmos as a place for beauty and contribute to an
understanding of the cosmos as bounded by an interior and an exterior geography.
There is a boundary which brings life to cosmos and “(…) breathes fire into its
equations, a boundary where the limitations of the material meet the openness of the
spiritual, the place of interchange that defines the what-ness of the cosmos itself”
180 K.-W. Sæther
(García-Rivera 2009: 109). By boundary, García-Rivera means a place where

heaven and earth meet. Life has developed in this borderland, and in a special way
humans are situated in this place where heaven and earth interconnect. Thus, Homo
sapiens are the most elusive of forms to grasp, for they are also the most spiritual.
To further develop the understanding of these forms, he draws on resources from
evolutionary developmental biology: “(…) perhaps the greatest gift of evolutionary
developmental biology, indeed of evolutionary theory in general, is the possibility
of a new understanding of form that can give us a new understanding and apprecia-
tion of beauty and the profound aesthetic roots of natural reality” (García-Rivera
2009: 91). Life consists of a dynamic dependency, where each form is dependent on
another form, and this dependency arranges a dynamic unity characterized by
beauty, in particularities and in the whole. This implies that beauty is an empirically
accessible category, and by observing these forms we find a correspondence with an
aspect of beauty in the field of aesthetics: unity in variety. García-Rivera refers to
Wladyslaw Tatarkiewicz, saying that beauty relates not only to the whole or to parts,
but to the mysterious unity between the two (García-Rivera 2009: 92; García-Rivera
et al. 2009: 246). Unity in variety is supplied by Christopher Alexander’s definition
of beauty as freedom from internal contradiction. García-Rivera, Graves, and
Neumann develop Alexander’s understanding of life as an aesthetic category, and
examine how beauty is expressed in natural systems in evolutionary developmental
biology.
They illustrate this by describing intrinsic information patterns in natural phe-
nomena: “A person experiences beauty through the senses and mental interpreta-
tions, and some natural phenomena have intrinsic relationships whose rich and
informative simplicity more easily lead to an experience of the beautiful” (García-
Rivera et al. 2009: 247). Such an intrinsic relationship is also recognized as inter-
connectedness, where natural living forms relate to each other. This dependency
between forms is characterized by complexity: “As such, natural complexity is ill
served by the notion of an emergent, irreducible whole. It is plurality of forms
related in a special kind of unity that express nature’s complexity. While such unity
leads to a whole, this unity is not the whole itself” (García-Rivera 2009: 92).
Thus, dynamic forms in nature are of importance for understanding beauty in
nature: “Moreover, by focusing on form – that is, beautiful form – the deep princi-
ples that underlie the unity and diversity of life become apparent in a way that not
only satisfies the mind but also the heart. Finally, the endless beautiful forms of
nature provide a key to discovering humanity’s home in the cosmos” (García-Rivera
2009: 82).
Evolutionary developmental biology exhibits the forms of nonequilibrium ther-
modynamics (García-Rivera 2009: 85), which correspond to forms such as artistic
forms, arising out of modeling previous forms, he says. The forms of nonequilib-
rium thermodynamics are beautiful, not as a judgement of taste, as we know it from
aesthetics as articulated by Enlightenment thinkers like Kant, but in a deeper way,
rooted in nature itself. This insight is, according to García-Rivera, a radical new
insight into our understanding of beauty in the history of philosophy or aesthetics
(García-Rivera 2009: 86).
In addition to time and space, García-Rivera adds an interior dimension of depth

to the cosmos, and describes the phenomena of life as depth. What characterizes
living forms is their dynamic forms in time, as they have a beginning, a life, and an
end, in the depth of the cosmos, interwoven with other forms where the end brings
life to new forms and so on: “Kenotic living forms create a place where time takes
shape (…) living forms create a place deep in space and time. In this depth, a cosmic
history is told” (García-Rivera 2009: 88). To fully understand these forms, we need
the insight from aesthetics, as these forms exhibits beauty.
Towards a More Profound Interaction

between Aesthetics, Natural Science, and Theology
The strength of García-Rivera’s approach is that it brings aesthetics into traditional

SRD, developing a specific theological aesthetics and a theological cosmology. At
the core of his interdisciplinary reflection, we find beauty as a phenomenon in the
intersection between aesthetics, natural science, and theology. In this final section, I
will give some remarks to his approach, and point out some directions for a further
engagement in the tripod of aesthetics, natural science, and theology. I follow two
directions of evaluation, one of how he understands beauty in nature and a second
of whether the concept of beauty in nature is sufficient as an approach to relate aes-
thetics, natural science, and theology.
Beauty in Nature: More Than Biophysical Nature
In this section I will problematize the biophysical understanding of nature and sug-
gest a broader approach to beauty in nature. The understanding of nature requires
further elaboration than what García-Rivera introduces in his writings. Nature spans
a wide range of opinions, and the use of the term gives rise to several problems
(Rolston 2006: 238ff; Brooke 2009: 312ff). James Proctor points out that in the
thirteenth century, nature was understood as the essential quality or character of
something, such as the nature of a person (Proctor 2009: 5). In the fourteenth cen-
tury, nature was expressed as an inherent force directing humans and the world. It
was not until the seventeenth century when nature was used as a description of the
physical world as a whole. There are many approaches within this perspective. We
may speak of an inner human nature and an exterior biophysical nature, or, as pos-
tulated by Gordon Graham, we may see different concepts of nature as closely
related to socio-cultural periods in the history of ideas (Graham 2013: 399ff).
Proctor describes nature as internal and/or external nature, the former being
human and the latter biophysical, and García-Rivera’s approach corresponds to
Proctor’s clarifications (Proctor 2009: 5). It is the biophysical nature which exhibits
182 K.-W. Sæther
beauty, and more specifically in the dynamic living forms. However, García-Rivera
not only uses the term nature; he uses cosmos as well. Cosmos is more than nature
in the biophysical sense, and it describes totality and reality as a whole. Another
term closely related to this understanding is creation. Patrick Sherry uses this term
to describe beauty, as in beauty of creation (Sherry 2002: 23). The biophysical
nature is implicit in such an approach.
On this background my remark is that García-Rivera relates beauty to a more
narrow sense of nature, namely biophysical nature, despite having a cosmological
approach in general. Beauty in nature not only needs to be related to living dynamic
forms. However, the resources on beauty from aesthetics, such as unity in variety,
are not limited to these phenomena in nature. Thus, he misses a broader and even
profound approach to beauty, which also includes the perception of non-biophysical
nature and the appreciation of scenery or landscape (Kemal and Gaskell 1993: 3).
These additional aesthetic approaches point in different directions.
The non-biophysical could be thought of on a smaller scale such as a piece of
rock or mineral, but it might also be on a larger scale such as mountains and the sea
(Griffin 2011: 13). The latter points toward the appreciation of scenery or landscape
and is an extensive topic within appreciation of the beauty in nature (Berleant 2005:
31f). We experience beauty when looking at these phenomena. So, what is the
intrinsic quality of beauty compared with living dynamic forms? These approaches
address the question of nature understood as untouched nature. By emphasizing the
appreciation of beauty of scenery and landscape, we also have to deal with the rela-
tionship between nature and culture and if we can actually claim the existence of
untouched nature. Humans are both a spectator of and a participant in nature, and
culture and nature are interwoven (Bergmann 2011: 30; Rolston 2002: 130f; Kemal
and Gaskell 1993: 1ff).
This relational aspect between humans and nature addresses another point which
needs to be elaborated further in the extension of García-Rivera’s writings. As dem-
onstrated in his methodology and in how he understands beauty in nature, he is
influenced by phenomenology. In phenomenology we find various ways of prob-
lematizing and overcoming the subject-object dichotomy. My impression is that
García-Rivera to a certain degree remains in such a dichotomy. By emphasizing
beauty as an object property in living dynamic forms, García-Rivera might lose
sight of a more relational and phenomenological approach to the understanding of
beauty.
Finally, by relating beauty to the cosmos, and in particular the interior of the
cosmos, we may read García-Rivera as emphasizing aesthetics in relation to theol-
ogy, since the cosmos has to be understood as theological, that is theological cos-
mology. This is first and foremost an expression of a holistic approach. The various
approaches of beauty in nature have to be considered, and the different terms used—
e.g. nature, cosmos, and creation—may support us in choosing the directions for
how to deal with beauty: Cosmos points outward, inward, and up, as macrocosm
and microcosm. Nature points in the direction of the biophysical and non-
biophysical, and creation is theologically charged, indicating a creator as the origin
of reality. In this respect García-Rivera’s writings point to various directions for
beauty, despite his emphasis on a particular understanding of beauty in nature.
Trajectories for Further Development: The Sublime

and Wonder
To develop a more profound dialogue between aesthetics, natural science, and the-
ology, we need to expand the concept of beauty in nature and include the phenom-
ena of the sublime and wonder. My main criticism of García-Rivera is his
relatively narrow approach to aesthetics in this respect, with his focus on beauty in
nature. His way of relating aesthetics to science and theology has a potential for a
more profound involvement with both the understanding of beauty in nature and the
field of aesthetics. Addressing the phenomena of the sublime in nature and wonder
in nature may allow for a more substantial approach to interdisciplinarity.
First, a solid understanding of relating aesthetics to SRD includes paying closer
attention to the phenomenon of sublime. The sublime in nature has a long and com-
plicated etymological history. The sublime can be approached in numerous ways, as
pointed out by Emily Brady (2013). As an experience, the sublime is according to
Kant “what is absolutely great,” and for Scopenhauer it is what in nature is evident
in infinite greatness. We experience the sublime in objects that are threatening and
terrible, and the experience gives a feeling of isolation, insignificance, fear, and
foreboding (Ledley 2009: 249).
According to Kant the mind sets itself in emotion in the representation of the
sublime in nature (Ledley 2009: 248). How can we describe this emotion? Kathryn
Alexander says, with reference to Kant, that “the sublime is identified as a pleasure
in the way that nature’s capacity to overwhelm our powers of perception and imagi-
nation is contained by and fuels our rational comprehension. The sublime engenders
‘negative pleasure’ of admiration, fear, and respect” (Alexander 2014: 52).
Worsworth understands the sublime as “(…) causing a sense of exaltation and awe,
a sense of duration in which “individuality is lost in the general sense of duration
belonging to the Earth itself” (Ledley 2009: 248).
How are we then to understand the relationship between beauty and the sublime
in nature? The two best-known eighteenth century accounts of the sublime, namely
Burke and Kant, say that the sublime is an aesthetic experience distinct from that of
the beautiful (Zuckert 2012: 64). Kant differentiates between the beautiful and the
sublime, where natural phenomena are examples of the latter (Mothersill 2004: 154).
Mothershill follows up by saying that “the beautiful is what is perceived as pleasing
in a non-strenuous way, relatively small, dainty, graceful, and feminine. The sublime
is large, immeasurably large, overwhelming, awe-inspiring, masculine – the source,
in Kant’s odd phrase, of ‘negative pleasure’” (Mothersill 2004: 155).
As for beauty, we have to address whether the sublime is to be understood as a
quality in nature, as a phenomenon in the eye of the beholder, or as both. Ledley
relates this question to how the human mind has developed, and concludes by saying
that the sublime is a quality in nature. He draws on resources from brain science.
Mapping the brain has given us insight: “(…) measures of spirituality and transcen-
dence are associated with discrete biological functions in the brain” (Ledley 2009:
258). For Ledley, this is a starting point for developing a “sublime essence of nature,”
184 K.-W. Sæther
and this essence stimulates a developed capacity for wonder. As he states, “[the sub-
lime] sets the mind in motion, inspires science and religion, and is an intrinsic, mate-
rial force in an evolutionary and malleable nature” (Ledley 2009: 263).
Whether or not we are following Ledley, we have to clarify the understanding of
the sublime in nature in light of beauty in nature. There is a degree of scope and
approach which makes the difference between the experience of beauty and the
sublime in nature. The experience of the sublime in nature is more holistic and
evokes a larger span of feelings than the experience of beauty in nature, although
there are exceptions. Allister McGrath addresses this perspective of the sublime and
relates it to transcendence. McGrath describes transcendence as “(…) reaching
beyond natural limits, an awareness of something that lies beyond the boundaries of
human experience” (McGrath 2008: 42). This can be related to the sublime, which
evokes something in the depth of humans, exceeding regular daily life and what we
are able to understand. McGrath says that such an experience is “(…) an enlarge-
ment or expansion of the human spirit, linked with sensible objects, yet transcend-
ing them” (McGrath 2008: 42). The sublime and transcendence are interwoven, and
humans experience sublime in what he describes as the borderland to transcen-
dence. Such an extended approach to the sublime in nature could be incorporated in
García-Rivera’s theological cosmology.
When addressing the experience of the sublime in nature, we need to reflect upon
nature as wilderness (Bohannon 2014). The sublime experience can easily be
thought of as taking place in the wilderness. We also experience beauty in the wil-
derness. A more extensive approach to beauty and the sublime in nature should
address the concept of wilderness. In light of García-Rivera’s approach, his meta-
phor of cosmos as the garden of God also addresses the question of garden versus
wilderness. Thus, by extending our approach to include the sublime in nature, we
might avoid the risk of romanticizing nature. A too strong emphasis on beauty in
nature seems to underestimate the fact that we experience other things in nature as
well, such as the sublime and even ugliness and brutality. García-Rivera touches
vaguely upon this aspect, but it should be further elaborated.
Second, as a contribution to a more solid interaction between aesthetics, natu-
ral science, and theology, we need to address the phenomenon of wonder. Both
beauty and the sublime are phenomena related to wonder. We can elaborate on
this by drawing on resources from Celia Deane-Drummond, who explores the
history of wonder. She says wonder means different things for different people
(Deane-Drummond 2006: 1). Wonder can arise because of an amazing situation
or be the experience of those who reach the sense of perfection in the ordering of
the world. Deane-Drummond points out that beauty might accompany both expe-
riences. Wonder as destabilizing can be related to what she describes as mon-
strosities in the natural world. The latter aspect of wonder may point in the
direction of the sublime. With Deane-Drummond, we can thus talk of wonder “in
the mode of beauty” (Deane-Drummond 2009: 1) and, I will add, wonder in the
mode of the sublime.
The experience of wonder and the emotions this creates can be understood as
motivation or inspiration for understanding. Wonder is about curiosity, as described
by Francis Bacon (Deane-Drummond 2009: 4). According to Deane-Drummond
wonder can mean a mixture of fear, reverence, pleasure, and bewilderment, and this
spans over a number of responses. In theology, wonder has been understood as a
phenomenon to promote praise. Wonder was due to God, so that all natural objects
were examples of divine handiwork, or wonder was found in the regularities and
laws of the natural world (Deane-Drummond 2006: 4f). Thus, wonder has what I
call a passive and an active dimension: passive in the sense of perception and experi-
ence of something in nature which triggers the feeling of wonder, and active in the
sense of a motivation for acting, as is the case for the philosopher, the scientist, the
theologian, when reflecting upon and wondering about life. Ralph Waldo Emerson
says that “men love to wonder, and this is the seed of science” (quoted from Ledley
2009: 246). For the scientist, wonder initiates inquiry. For theology, wonder moti-
vates a deeper understanding of reality as God’s creation.
There is a relationship between beauty and wonder, as described by Deane-
Drummond. She points out that “wonder is an even broader term than beauty and
could be said to be prior to its recognition” (Deane-Drummond 2009: 128) Following
Deane-Drummond, I argue that wonder and beauty are on different levels; the for-
mer is a larger, more overreaching concept than the latter. Wonder can thus be
understood as a phenomenon where the sublime and beauty are included. In addi-
tion, I find a relationship between wonder in nature and the experience of beauty in
nature, in the sense that the latter evokes the former. The experience of beauty stim-
ulates wonder, giving rise to the following questions: What is this beauty I am expe-
riencing? Why is it so? And how has this beautiful thing come into being? The same
relationship, triggering the same questions, could be attributed to the sublime
(Ledley 2009: 247).
What then is the connection between wonder and aesthetics? If aesthetics can be
understood in García-Rivera’s approach as what moves our hearts, then wonder can
be an overreaching description for all the experiences taking place in nature, includ-
ing the experience of the sublime and beauty. In this respect, the field of aesthetics
contributes with the dimension of wonder. Jeffery G. Sobosan links aesthetics and
wonder in such a way when saying that the experience of looking at the starry sky
evokes several aspects: “The experience is both aesthetic and moral. It is aesthetic
because the panorama of shapes and color my eyes take in produce an experience of
beauty; it is moral because knowledge of the sheer size and age of what I am seeing
produces an experience of humility” (Sobosan 1999: 1). This experience is all about
wonder, he says: “What [the stars] did stir in me (…) was wonder, and I have turned
this wonder loose in my imagination many times as I have looked into the clear
night sky. And each time I have been given joy” (Sobosan 1999: 2). The latter part
of the quotation, the human response of joy, corresponds to Deane-Drummond. If
we develop this further, we can recognize a theological relevance as well, as wonder
could be understood as the basis of worship (Ledley 2009: 246).
We find elements of wonder in García-Rivera’s reflections, both in his
methodological approach and in the how he reflects upon beauty in nature
186 K.-W. Sæther
(García-Rivera 2009: viii). There are mystical aspects in his motivation for dealing
with aesthetics and interdisciplinary work, and they include wonder. In addition,
Deane-Drummond’s point of wonder as promoting praise can be linked to García-
Rivera when he speaks of beauty as evoking praise and thanks to God. Yet even if
García-Rivera touches upon wonder, he does not relate wonder to beauty and the
sublime. A more clear elaboration of wonder as phenomenon may enrich the inter-
disciplinary field of aesthetics, natural science, and theology. However, if beauty
and the sublime are elusive phenomena, we undoubtedly can say the same about
wonder. Wonder is surely ambiguous and may include various approaches and per-
spectives. One of many challenging questions for further exploration is whether
wonder points to a sense of divine (Deane-Drummond 2009: 128). Thus, we need to
clarify what kind of wonder we speak of in different contexts.
Further Exploration
It is essential to further explore what I have described as SRD being moved by aes-
thetics. Beauty in nature is important, although recognizing the sublime and wonder
will enhance the dialogue and the understanding of aesthetics in SRD.
García-Rivera is a major contributor to bringing aesthetics into SRD, stressing
the importance of using aesthetics as a discipline for strengthening and interacting
with natural science and theology. Aesthetics provide a deeper understanding of
beauty in nature, a topic related to all three disciplines discussed in this article. We
need to expand this view with a more profound aesthetic approach that accounts for
phenomena such as the sublime and wonder. The increasing dialogue between aes-
thetics, natural science, and theology will certainly benefit from such a broader
undertaking.
References
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188 K.-W. Sæther
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Part IV
Experiencing Ecclesia
Chapter 15
Becoming Human: Weaving Together Genetics
and Personhood Reflections on Personhood
Gayle E. Woloschak
Abstract The goal of this work is to provide reflections on the human person and
personhood relating theological and biological concepts on how personhood leads
to particular attributes that are distinctly human. The essence of personhood relates
the hypostasis of biological existence to the hypostasis of other-worldliness. There
have been many discussions on what makes humans unique among animals—cer-
tain DNA sequences are characteristic of humans and can be used to demarcate
humans from other creatures. With regard to functional attributes, the ability to take
responsibility particularly for those who are disabled or disadvantaged in some way
appears to be (mostly) distinctly human. Perhaps what is most significant about
humans is human language, which is open-ended and productive, allowing for an
infinite set of utterances from a finite set of elements. Creativity, another perhaps
unique human attribute, is linked to language, and often verbal expression leads to
new ideas and perspectives. It was in naming the animals that Adam learned that he
was distinct from them; as he learned about the animals, he also learned about him-
self. Finally, the ability to experience suffering may also be distinct among humans
and somehow helps to develop the human person in a way that provides a tempering
and growth. Pain is distinct from suffering, although suffering can involve the per-
ception of pain as something that occurs and engenders a desire to stop it. This can
involve not only physical but also non-physical (including psychological) pain.
Human suffering is probably part of the human condition, tied with death and the
vulnerability of all of life. Despite this, death is a part of the normal cycle of life on
earth and is essential for evolution to take place. Human beings are to some extent
defined by evolution; without death, evolution would not be possible and one could
argue that humans would not be human.
Keywords Human personhood • Genetics and religion • Human uniqueness •

Religion and science • Humans and language • Genetics and personhood
G.E. Woloschak (*)

Department of Radiation Oncology, Northwestern School of Medicine, Chicago, IL, USA
e-mail: g-woloschak@northwestern.edu

192 G.E. Woloschak
What Is Personhood?
In Greek theology there is a distinction between the word idea of the person (from
the Greek word prosopon) and the concept of the substance that underlies what the
person is (defined in the Greek word hypostasis). Prosopon was the face or mask
that was used in Greek theater where actors on stage wore masks to reveal their
character and emotional state to the audience. This idea of the revealing mask usu-
ally includes some sort of manifestation of the self that includes one's inner thoughts
and inner feelings. The word hypostasis was used to describe the substance of the
person, the underlying reality of the person, what that person actually was in their
essence. Both terms were much discussed by John Zizioulas, an Orthodox theolo-
gian from Greece whose book Being as Communion has had significant influence in
the broad Christian community over the years.
Zizioulas contends that a person can only be expressed in communion with oth-
ers, but any form of communion that denies or suppresses the person in any way is
wrong. He uses the idea of the prosopon as the mask from ancient Greek theater and
notes that these plays and characters first led to the idea of humans as persons
because in the theater audiences witnessed conflicts between human freedom and
necessity worked out in dramatic form. In Greek theater the human strives to become
a person, to rise up against that which oppresses him, whether it be the gods, his
fate, or everyday life. To Zizioulas, the idea of personhood ties up the human with
relationship, with the ability to form associations, and ultimately with the ability to
organize life in a nation-state. Uniqueness is something absolute with a person, and
there are no two persons who are identical. Zizioulas writes: “the goal of person-
hood is the person itself; personhood is the total fulfillment of being, the Catholic
(universal) expression of its nature…. Diffused today throughout all forms of social
life is the intense search for personal identity. The person is not relativized without
provoking a reaction” (Zizioulas 1985).
The essence of personhood can be divided into two types of relationships that
are:
1. The hypostasis of biological existence – this is constituted by a person’s concep-
tion and birth and earthly existence; the person is the product of the communion
between two people and it is rooted in creativeness. This biological existence is
tied to biological needs that form around relationships among people.
2. The hypostasis of otherworldliness – this existence is based on uncreated exis-
tence and comes “from above”. This personhood is rooted in the person’s rela-
tionship to God. Biological existence can become utterly selfish and based in
egotism in the absence of some form of existence that goes beyond the creaturely
existence. These two hypostases are related to each other, and certainly the per-
son’s relationship with others is tied to the person’s relationship with God
(Zizioulas 2006).
Zizioulas sums up how this idea of personhood fits in with models of evolution
in the following way:
15 Becoming Human: Weaving Together Genetics and Personhood Reflections… 193
The belief in human superiority received a blow from Darwinism when Charles Darwin
proved that not only humans but also animals although to a lesser degree, are capable of
thinking. So if the human is in the image of God, this must be so due to other capabilities
then his/her ability to think, and it is these capabilities which we must learn to value
(Zizioulas 1985).
This reflection brings us to our next question about what is unique about human-
ity and human persons.
What Is Unique About Human Persons?
There have been numerous dialogues over the years about what makes humans
unique compared to other species, particularly in light of the fact that we are all
animals and part of the animal kingdom. Some have suggested that it is the develop-
ment of culture that makes us unique, and while one can argue that many animals
have communities including birds chimpanzees and others, those cultures are not
passed on to future generations in the same ways that human cultures are. Human
language is also uniquely developed. While birds sing and other species communi-
cate by sounds, human language allows for the development of relationships that
lead to personhood. If we consider comments mentioned earlier about the Greek
theater, we note that some aspects of being a person include expressions of emotion
and of personal freedom that is unique for the person; language permits us to do
this.
The concept of “survival of the fittest” is based predominantly on genetic heri-
tage, the survival that comes through particular DNA sequences and particular
genes under given circumstances (because “fit” implies what one fits (in) to). With
regard to genetic heritage, evolution operates at the level of populations and their
genes and selects for the most reproductively fit populations. Nevertheless, humans
also have a cultural and technological heritage that is the cumulative transmission of
knowledge and experience from one generation to the next, aiding in their survival.
Humans can adapt by changing their environment to suit their needs, and they can
re-create their niche without the need to wait for evolution to select for the traits that
are best suited for that environment. Birds had to evolve flight through genetic
changes; humans could create planes in order to fly. Francisco Ayala made this point
in the following quote:
Biological inheritance is based on the transmission of genetic information, in humans by
much the same as in other sexually reproducing organisms. But cultural inheritance is dis-
tinctively human, based on transmission of information by a teaching and learning process,
which is, in principle independent of biological parentage. Cultural inheritance makes pos-
sible the cumulative transmission of experience from generation to generation. Cultural
heredity is a swifter and more effective (because it can be designed) mode of adaptation to
the environment than the biological mode. The advent of cultural heredity ushered in cul-
tural evolution, which transcends biological evolution (Ayala 1998).
194 G.E. Woloschak
In my opinion, one thing that sets humans aside from all other animals is our
capacity to use language. Humans have the ability for acquiring and using complex
systems of communication, and human language relies on social convention and
learning and has a complicated structure. It is believed that language evolved when
early hominids started gradually changing their primate communication systems,
acquiring the ability to form a theory of other minds and shared intentionality. The
development of language seems to coincide with an increase of brain volume,
although it is not certain whether one came before the other or whether they
coevolved together. Languages also evolve over time.
What makes human language unique from that of animals? Human language is
open-ended and productive, allowing for an infinite set of utterances from a finite
set of elements. Symbols and grammatical rules are largely arbitrary. Animals are
able to use symbols. The bonobo Kanzi was trained in Japan to learn symbolic signs
to communicate in a form of sign language. Kanzi was able to learn about the same
number of signs that a four-year-old learns (Mitani 1995; Joseph et al. 2001).
Human language can employ grammatical and semantic categories such as nouns
and verbs. Human language is modality independent, that is it can be audible, writ-
ten, sign language, or tactile (Braille).
In ancient times there were many models that were used to explain the evolution
of language; one mural in Mexico from A.D. 200 shows a scroll coming forth from
the mouth of a person reflecting that person’s speech. In Europe in the 400 s, it was
believed that each nation was given a language after the tower of Babel, and that
each language belongs to the nation as something to safeguard. In the medieval era,
many people believe that there existed a language of paradise and that all other lan-
guages spread from it; major arguments included whether the original language of
paradise was Latin, Hebrew, German, etc. in the 1700s the tree model came in vogue
which suggested that the descent of languages occurred similar to it phylogenetic
tree. There are two models people have been proposed for how language evolved in
humans. Chomsky, who approaches this question philosophically, believes the lan-
guage appeared as a single mutation or change in the hominid tree that led to humans
(Chomsky 1968, 1964). Most others believe that language developed from animal
cognition through continuous development over time. The model for language
development most often used is called “genetic relationship” among languages, but
usually means a genealogical relationship (Gell-Mann and Tuhlen 2011; Gordon
2005).
The relatedness of languages is perhaps the most easily seen when one examines
Romance languages and can see that many words are very similar between Latin,
French, Italian, and Spanish. Some examples are presented in the table below1:
English Latin French Italian Spanish

Thing causa chose cosa cosa
Sing cantare chanter cantare cantar
(continued)
1
Modified from Wikipedia, Development of languages.
English Latin French Italian Spanish

Horse caballus cheval cavallo caballo
Plant planta plante pianta llanta
Night noctis nuit notte noche
Fact factum fait fatto hecho
Milk lacte lait latte leche
Eight octo huit otto och
In fact, language trees show the relationship of language families of the world,
and one can see areas of the world where particular languages dominate and spread,
much like evolution (Ruhlen 1987).
In different religious traditions, there is a significance to language that is appar-
ent. In Christianity Christ is called the Logos, a Greek word that can mean word,
discourse, or reason. For example John 1:1, states “In the beginning was the Word,
and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” This concept of Christ as
Logos is frequently tied up with the Old Testament idea of “Sophia” as the wisdom
of God (Dionysius 2004).
In the Genesis story of creation, God created by speaking (“….. And God said”).
This implies a relationship between speaking and creativity, and it is commonly
accepted that people develop new ideas as they are speaking or even as they are inter-
acting with or listening to teams of others. The concept of think tanks has come about
from gathering groups of people together to talk about problems and develop solu-
tions; the act of talking, of speaking is expected to be more productive for developing
creative ideas than putting individuals in a series of separate locations and asking them
to think alone and find a solution to a problem. There is also relationship between
speaking and confession (Papanikolaou 2008). Many therapists working with prison-
ers have noted that those prisoners who admitted their crimes are on a better road to
recovery than those who never admit what they have done. The idea of using speech
to unburden ourselves of our problems helps us to work through our concerns.
The story of Genesis provides yet another example of the importance of speak-
ing. Adam was given the task of providing a name for each of the animals. One
could ask why was this so, what is the importance of giving a name to something.
What are the things that we name? We name our children, we name our pets, some
people name their houses, ranches or farms; in general, we name those things for
which we are responsible. In my own tradition, Eastern Orthodox Church, the god-
parent names godchild to reflect the responsibility that the godparent has in the
upbringing of the child. The story of Adam naming the animals talks about human
responsibility for animals and for the earth as a whole; this is reflective of human
responsibility for creation. Thus, one can say that the words of God create material
while human words claim responsibility for material (while human words on their
own can only create non-material).
It should also be noted in this Genesis story that as Adam spoke the names of the
animals, he learned something about himself. He learned that he was not like them
and he also learned he was alone. The mere speaking of the names of the animals
196 G.E. Woloschak
was a teaching experience for Adam. Bulgakov believes that there was is a logical
significance to this naming. He wrote:
The name itself and naming could be considered a human invention existing only for man
and in man. The Archangel’s Annunciation of the Name of God, which is also a human
name, revealed to the world and to humanity that the name of God is and therefore is also a
human naming… this imparts to naming a mysterious, profound, and realistic character.
This affirmation, namely that the name enters into the image of God in man that it is this
image…. that constitutes the most profound ontological basis of naming: thought collides
here with the power of fact….(Bulgakov 2012).
While we are talking about speech, we must also realize that there is a signifi-
cance to silence. Silence is a choice, and it provides us with many opportunities to be
aware of ourselves, of others, and of the Other. Often quieting our inner and outer
lives allows us listen to God. Meditation is used as a means to achieve inner silence,
substituting one thought for another. Many religious traditions have used silence as a
means of achieving inner peace. Because we humans have language, we can appreci-
ate silence in a different way that other creatures on the planet (Vlachos 1991).
Is Suffering Uniquely Human?
In this final question we will explore the aspects of human suffering. We must appre-
ciate that pain is distinct from suffering although suffering can involve the perception
of pain as something that is occurring and engenders a desire to stop it. Suffering can
involve not only physical but also nonphysical emotional components. Do other ani-
mals suffer? We don’t really know although we do know that elephants have death
rituals, and that many mammals show some of the psychopathologies that humans
do. In fact many antidepressants used for humans are tested in animals first and the
tests of treatment efficacy evaluate psychological wellbeing of test animals.
Tied up with the question of suffering is the use of technology to reduce suffer-
ing. Chemotherapy for instance, was developed not only as a possible source of
complete cure but also so that quality of life could be improved and the pain could
be reduced. When modern technological tools were developed, many were offered
to the public as tools to free up time allowing humans to explore deeper desires and
achieve a closeness to family, friends, and God. Early advertisements in the 1940s
and 1950s about washing machines promised that women would have more time for
their families. Computers were originally marketed as tools for saving a large
amount of time in the workplace, allowing workers more time for other needs. Did
these technologies ever achieve the goals they had? Did they have other side effects?
It seems that despite promises to free up time, these technologies have only served
not only to free up time but at the same time to increase our busy-ness.
Is it ever possible, then, to eliminate suffering? To some extent, suffering is
connected with death, and fear of suffering is related to the vulnerability of humans
and all of life to death. Despite this, death is a part of the normal cycle of life on
earth, and biological evolution depends upon death. Much of our technology is
driven to postpone (or, as some would dream, to eliminate) death. There are people
who believe in technology more than they believe in God. They hope the technology
will solve all of our problems, and therefore keep us from destruction. I’ve heard of
many who talk about ecological problems on earth and how we really don’t need to
worry about conserving our resources, because certainly human technology will
solve all problems from global warming to lack of energy long before we get to a
point of no return when human life on Earth becomes untenable.
How do we then understand this world of suffering, disasters, and death? We
know that suffering is a pre-requistite of our free will, and certainly we can always
choose to do bad and hurt ourselves and others. Free will (which many Christians
maintain God gives us) is the ability of a person to make choices free of constraint.
God could have fully regulated humanity, but instead God created humanity be able
to choose freely between good and evil. The result is that while sometimes we
choose good, and sometimes bad, and while the entire planet is affected by those
choices, we do eventually die. Imagine a world where death never occurred, and
leaders like Stalin and Hitler could live forever; a world without death could be
much more wrought with suffering than the one we live in. Kallistos Ware addressed
this issue of the ability of humans for doing good or bad:
Because the human person is both microcosm and mediator, unifying the creation and offer-
ing it back to God in thanksgiving – because more particularly, we humans have the ability
consciously and by deliberate choice to modify and refashion the world – there is imposed
upon us as and daunting responsibility. The fact that we are made in the divine image and
so endowed with freedom – creators after the image of God the Creator – carries with it a
terrible risk. We can use our creative power both for good and for evil. We can illumine and
transfigure, but equally we can pollute and destroy (Ware 1997).
Another concept that may relate suffering (as a necessary human condition) and
health comes through the idea that higher cognitive powers could not have evolved
without psychological disorders. It is possible that the presence of psychological
disease in the human population is genetically linked to higher cognitive powers and
that the two go hand-in-hand. Without the potential for psychological disorders, we
may never have evolved cognition of the type we currently have. Models about
human and Neanderthal co-evolution suggest that this may be so because the genes
associated with autism, schizophrenia and other mental disorders were absent from
the hominid groups thought to have lower cognitive skills.
We must also consider why some natural disasters occur, since they are clearly
responsible for a large amount of human suffering. We have earthquakes because
the continental plates of the earth move; if they did not move, our climate, our envi-
ronment, our planet, would not be able support life in the same way. The same can
be true for most of our weather systems – storms are needed to shape ecosystems,
volcanoes are needed for our planet to breathe and be viable. So these natural
disasters are associated with our planet’s lifecycle are the price we must pay for a
planet that supports life as we know it.
Finally, suffering tempers us and helps us grow as individuals. There are so many
people who told me over the years that suffering through a disease, a family tragedy,
or a particular problem, improved their life very much. I believe this is something that
198 G.E. Woloschak
can be understood only with experience. Dostoyevsky who perhaps was the master of
describing human suffering said, “Accept suffering and achieve atonement through
it – that is what you must do” (1866). By the same token he saw that love and suffering
go hand-in-hand and that it is not possible to love without suffering. He wrote:
On our earth we can only love with suffering and through suffering. We cannot love other-
wise, and we know of no other sort of love. I want suffering in order to love. I long, I thirst,
this very instant, to kiss with tears the earth that I have left, and I don’t want, I won’t accept
life on any other (1877)!
The issue of suffering cannot be addressed without also reflecting for a moment
on the book of Job. In this passage God talks to Job and says:
Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell me, if you have understand-
ing. Who determined its measurements? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line
across it? On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone—when the morning stars
sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy?
Or who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb, when I made
the clouds its garment and thick darkness its swaddling band, and prescribed bounds for it
and set its bars and doors, when I said, This far shall you come and no farther; here is where
your proud waves be stayed’?
Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place, that it might
take the earth by the edges and shake the wicked out of it? The earth takes shape like clay
under a seal; its features stand out like those of a garment. The wicked are denied their light,
and their upraised arm is broken.
Have you journeyed to the springs of the sea or walked in the recesses of the deep? Have
the gates of death been shown to you? Have you seen the gates of the deepest darkness? Have
you comprehended the vast expanses of the earth? Tell me, if you know all this (Job 38: 4–18).
I believe the story of Job is a powerful one, not only because of Job’s suffering
but also because this story expresses the abyss between human understanding and
the complete knowledge of the workings of God. The mystery of God’s creation is
somehow reflected well in this chapter 38 of Job (Manly 1997). Through science we
may seek to gain knowledge about God’s creation, but we must realize the limits of
our comprehension and the utter impossibility of applying our cognitive powers to
an understanding of God that penetrates to the depth of His being. There is often a
tendency among humans to make an idol of all new technologies; nevertheless,
there is a need to appreciate that these novelties are not only God-given but also
insignificant in the context of God’s creation, it’s complexities, and its workings.
This mystery points out the need for humility.
As my closing thoughts, I would like to explore the word anthropos, the Greek
word for human. It is derived from the word “anarthrein”, which means to look up.
Humans, unlike most animals, look up towards heaven. Humans are heavenly, yet
earthly; humans are spiritual, yet material. Kallistos Ware expressed the role of
humanity well when he said, “Our human task is to be syndesmos and gephyra, the
bond and bridge of God’s creation” (Ware 1997).2
2
This idea of humans (anthropos) as the one who “looks up” and contemplates is described by
Ware (1997).
References
Ayala, Francisco J. 1998. Biology precedes, culture transcends: An evolutionist’s view of human
nature. Zygon 33: 507–523.
Bulgakov, Sergius. 2012. Icons and the Name of God. Trans. Boris Jakim. Grand Rapids: Wm
Eerdmans Press.
Chomsky, Noam. 1964. Current issues in linguistic theory. The Hague: Mouton.
Chomsky, Noam. 1968. Language and mind. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World.
Dionysius the Areopagite. 2004. On the divine names and the mystical theology. IBIS Press. trans-
lated by C. E. Roit, published in Lake Worth, FL, USA.
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. 1866. Crime and punishment. Quoted in Wikipedia Fyodor Dostoyevsky.
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. 1877. The dream of a ridiculous man. Quote uses the translation of
Constance Garnett, 1916.
Gell-Mann, Murray, and Merritt Tuhlen. 2011. The origin of word order. Proceedings of the
National Academy of Sciences USA 109: 17758–17764.
Gordon, Raymond G. Jr. ed. 2005. Ethnologue: Languages of the world. 15th ed. Dallas: SIL
Internatinational. (Online version: http://www.ethnologue.com)
Joseph, John E., Love Nigel and Talbot J. Taylor. 2001. Kanzi on Human Language. In Landmarks
in linguistic thought II: The Western tradition in the 20th century. London/New York:
Routledge.
Manly, Wisdom J. 1997. Let us attend: Job, the fathers, and the old testament. Menlo Park:
Monastery Books.
Mitani, J. 1995. Kanzi: The ape at the brink of the human mind. Scientific American 272: 43–54.
Papanikolaou, Arristotle. 2008. Honest to God: Confession and desire. In Thinking through faith,
ed. Aristotle Papanikolaou and Elizabeth Prodromou. New York: St. Vladimir’s Seminary
Press.
Ruhlen, Merritt. 1987. A guide to the world’s languages. Stanford: Stanford University Press.
Vlachos, Hierotheos. 1991. A Night in the Desert of the Holy Mountain. Trans. Effie Mavromichali.
England: Element Books.
Ware, Kallistos. 1997. Through the creation to the creator (booklet). London: Friends of the
Centre.
Zizioulas, John. 1985. Being as communion: Studies in personhood and the church. Crestwood: St.
Vladimir’s Seminary Press.
Zizioulas, John. 2006. Communion and Otherness, ed. Paul McPartlan. London: T and T Clark.
Gayle E. Woloschak is Professor of Radiation Oncology, Radiology, and Cell and Molecular
Biology in the Feinberg School of Medicine, Northwestern University. Gayle received her B.S. in
Biological Sciences, from Youngstown State University and a Ph.D. in Medical Sciences from the
University of Toledo (Medical College of Ohio). She did her postdoctoral training at the Mayo
Clinic, and then moved to Argonne National Laboratory until 2001. Her scientific interests are
predominantly in the areas of Molecular Biology. Radiation Biology, and Nanotechnology studies,
and she has authored over 150 scientific papers. She also received her Doctor of Ministry degree
from Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is Associate Director of the Zygon Center for Religion
and Science and an Adjunct Professor of Religion and Sciences at Lutheran School of Theology at
Chicago.
Chapter 16
Coincidence of Opposites in the Thought
of Nicolas Cusanus and Niels Bohr
John R. Albright
Abstract Although they lived nearly 500 years apart, Nicholas of Cusa (Cusanus)
and Niels Bohr have a certain commonality. They both maintained that opposite
ideas are not always incompatible, but are often complementary. Cusanus called this
the coincidence of opposites; Bohr called it complementarity. This essay reviews
the lives of these two intellectual leaders and outlines how their devotion to their
guiding principle led them to understanding in various fields. For Cusanus, the topic
was conciliarism versus papalism. For Bohr, the initial impetus was to resolve the
paradox of waves and particles. He later branched into issues such as determinism
versus uncertainty, discreet versus continuous models of the nucleus, secrecy versus
openness, and objectivity versus subjectivity.
Keywords Nicholas of Cusa • Cusanus • Niels Bohr • Coincidence of opposites •

Paradox • Wave/particle • Papalism • Conciliarism • Determinism/uncertainty •
Learned ignorance • Yin/yang
Introduction
The purpose of this essay is to explore the similarities and differences in the ideas
of two thinkers who lived many centuries apart and who operated in very different
circumstances, but whose ideas exhibited similarities in profound ways. Both were
highly respected in their own times and professions. Both received honors and
became well-to-do. Both made enemies– predictably, since both were involved in
politics.
We begin by summarizing the lives and accomplishments of these two remark-
able intellectual leaders.
J.R. Albright (*)

e-mail: jraphysics@aol.com

202 J.R. Albright
Nicholas Cusanus (1401–1464)
Cusanus answers to a variety of names. Among English speakers he is often called

Nicholas of Cusa, which leads to the erroneous conclusion that he was Italian, from
a small and obscure city called Cusa. In fact he was German, born in Kues (which
in Latin is called Cusa), a small city on the bank of the River Mosel, across from
Bernkastel. The Mosel flows in a deep gorge with numerous turns in the stream. The
north slope of the gorge – which faces south – gets lots of sunlight and is ideal for
growing Riesling grapes that make one of the world’s great white wines.
Cusanus was born Nikolaus Krebs. The German word Krebs means crab (the
animal) or cancer (the disease). His father was a businessman, originally a fisher-
man, and then branching out to operate a ferry across the Mosel. The next step was
to use the boats to transport wine barrels to wider markets. As the family prospered
they bought land with vines on it and made wine to sell.
In 1416 Cusanus enrolled as a student at the University of Heidelberg, where he
studied canon law and became an adherent of conciliarism, the principle that the
Pope is subordinate to ecumenical councils of the Church. After a year at Heidelberg
he moved to Bologna, where he stayed enough years to finish his doctorate, with a
dissertation on the Decretals of the Church. It was during this time in Italy that he
began signing his name Nicolaus Cusanus, which we shall use hereafter.
By 1425 he was back in Germany, at the University of Köln, studying theology
and teaching canon law. He also spent time in Paris studying the writings of the
Catalán thinker Ramón Llull. Eventually he was ordained to the priesthood as a
diocesan priest of the Archdiocese of Trier. He was not associated with any monas-
tic order.
Ecumenical councils of the Church were held more often in the fifteenth century
than they are today. The famous Council of Konstanz was held in 1415 when
Cusanus was too young to be involved. In 1432 the Council of Basel was convened;
Cusanus was sent there as a representative of the Archbishop of Trier in a legal case
to be decided by the Council. Cusanus lost his case but made a favorable impression
as an intelligent and subtle expert in canon law. He worked on other topics of sig-
nificance and was quickly made a full member of the Council. Cusanus had come to
Basel fully committed to the conciliar point of view, but he listened closely to the
opposite arguments and began to consider them to be meritorious. When Pope
Eugenius IV tried to move the Council to Italy, Cusanus voted on the Pope’s side,
thereby earning accusations of treachery. The motion lost, and the Council split. As
a newly convinced papalist, Cusanus traveled to Italy in the company of two like-
minded friends who were bishops. They went to Bologna, where Cusanus had other
friends from years earlier with whom they could stay.
The next move was made by the Pope, who recognized that the Eastern Roman
Empire (centered at Constantinople, now Istanbul) was in great peril of falling to the
Ottoman Turks. He also understood the scandal of the Western use of “ecumenical”
for their councils: For several centuries these gatherings had not deserved the name
because they did not include any Eastern Orthodox Christians. The Pope felt that the
16 Coincidence of Opposites in the Thought of Nicolas Cusanus and Niels Bohr 203
time was ripe to convene a truly ecumenical council, to be held in Italy. Accordingly
he sent Cusanus and his two bishop friends. The three Roman emissaries had an
easy time convincing the Greek leaders that they should come to Italy, since the
military situation threatened such danger.
The sea voyage returning from Constantinople to Venice was unusually slow
because of bad weather. Cusanus had plenty of time to think, and he also had a
mystical experience. As a result he became an advocate of his doctrine of the
Coincidence of Opposites, as in the title of this essay. One often sees the Latin
expression coincidentia oppositorum, the term used by Cusanus himself. I must
admit that the modern English word “coincidence” has a much more aleatory (prob-
abilistic, unrelated) connotation than what Cusanus had in mind. My preference
would be for confluence, resolution, of opposites, or perhaps a term that emphasizes
the paradoxical. I shall nevertheless bow to convention and continue the use of
“coincidence.” Cusanus was convinced by a combination of philosophical thought,
mystical experience, and his personal life story that coincidence of opposites could
serve as a framework for explaining nearly everything.
In 1440 Cusanus wrote his most elaborate work on this subject, De docta igno-
rantia, On Learned Ignorance (Nicholas of Cusa 1997). The title alone identifies it
as an outgrowth of the coincidence of opposites. It represents Christendom, with the
Pope at the center and the bishops and parishes at the periphery. Progress in the
Church (judged by Cusanus to be usually a good thing) can occur driven from the
center or from the circumference. Through much of the Council of Basel, Cusanus
would have claimed that action from the circumference--personified by the
Ecumenical Council--was the better way to run a church. Toward the end of the
Council, he changed his mind. His metaphor provided a line of defense against
charges of treachery.
Cusanus was not afraid of change. He advocated reforms for both the Church
(Valliere 2012) and the Holy Roman Empire. In the case of the Church he was
almost a century too early. The Empire survived along with many of its faults until
it finally died in the Napoleonic era.
Cusanus was fascinated by mathematics and science. In both areas he knew most
of what there was to know in his time. His mathematical writings generally used
geometry as a starting point. He speculated more about infinity than was usual in his
century (Nicholas of Cusa 1997). From our point of view in the twenty-first century,
it is easy to feel pain for one who was beginning to realize the pitfalls that infest any
discussion of infinite quantities or processes. For example, a question that arises in
the mind of a reader is: How many points are there on the diameter of a circle? How
many are there at the outside of a semicircle? The answer to both questions is: infin-
ity. But are the two infinite sets the same size?
The answer is affirmative the way the question was posed. The untutored answer
would be that the curve has more points because it is longer. Cusanus did not have
the benefit of the thought of Georg Cantor, the nineteenth-century mathematician
who proved with rigor that there is a difference between the number of points in a
set and the measure of that set of points.
204 J.R. Albright
After careful consideration of astronomy, Cusanus concluded that there was no

good reason to insist that the earth stands still—a suggestion made before Copernicus
was born. In a later age his contributions to mathematics and astronomy led to the
name “Cusanus” for a crater on the moon.
His love of both geometry and astronomy led him to the inexorable conclusion
that the Julian calendar needed to be replaced by something more accurate. Only in
the next century did the Catholic Church act on this observation with the change to
the Gregorian calendar. It took even longer for Protestant Europe (including the
British colonies in America) to change their calendars. Russia did not change until
after its revolution.
One puzzling aspect of “Learned Ignorance” is the scarcity of quotes from the
early chapters of Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians. For example, Paul expresses
paradoxical ways of looking at wisdom:
Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom. We proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling
block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles. God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom,
and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength. (I Cor. 1:22–23, 25)
The wisdom of this world is foolishness with God. (I Cor 3:19)
In his later years Cusanus was increasingly occupied with church politics. He
was made a bishop and a cardinal and was assigned to the Austrian diocese of
Brixen (now in Italy and called Bressanone) in the valley of the Etsch (now called
Adige). Before he died he arranged for the family estates in Kues to be used to fund
a center to care for invalids. The center still exists, supported by the money made
from selling wine.
Neils Bohr (1885–1962)
Niels Bohr was Danish, born in Copenhagen to a family of means. His father was a
scientist; his mother, Ellen Adler Bohr, came from a prominent banking family.
Young Bohr was a student at the University of Copenhagen all the way through a
Ph.D. in physics. He was kept on as a faculty member, and for too many years his
teaching assignment was to teach elementary physics to biology students. So he
asked for and got a leave of absence to go abroad to learn more about those topics
of physics that were considered important in the wider world. Bohr chose to go to
Manchester, England, with his new bride, Margrethe Nørlund Bohr. On the occa-
sion of their marriage they both resigned from the Church of Denmark; Bohr there-
after regarded himself as an atheist.
The Bohrs left for England in 1912 for a projected two-year stay. The outbreak
of World War I added four more years to the visit. Like many other visitors to
Britain, Bohr grew quite fond of the place.
One of the big attractions at Manchester was Ernest Rutherford, whose labora-
tory proved conclusively that the positive electric charges of the atom are crammed
into a small space in the middle – the nucleus. That left open the question of the
negative charges. By this time, J. J. Thomson at Cambridge, England, had shown

that they are electrons. Bohr’s big step forward was to use classical physics – the
equations of Newton and Maxwell – to describe the motion of the electrons. One
more thing was missing. Bohr needed to assume that the angular momentum (mea-
sure of the rotational motion) of an electron can be quantified only in terms of inte-
gral values of Planck’s constant, a number recently introduced by Max Planck to
describe the radiation from a hot object.
Bohr’s rather simple result was phenomenally successful in describing the light
given off by hot hydrogen gas. There were several difficulties: (1) the method does
not work for anything more complicated chemically than hydrogen; (2) attempts to
merge Bohr’s theory with Einstein’s special theory of relativity of 1905 gave
answers that were wrong in detail, even for hydrogen; (3) no explanation was forth-
coming for the fact that some light patterns are brighter than others. Bohr published
his results. He was well aware of the shortcomings of the theory and did not try to
hide them.
At the end of the war the Bohrs came back to Denmark, where Niels Bohr had to
teach the same dull material that he had taught before the war. It must be said that
Bohr was not a very good lecturer. When he spoke in English, his language skills
were poor; he mumbled; if provided with a microphone, he did not speak into it.
Only a few people in the front row of an auditorium could understand his words.
In 1922 Albert Einstein received the Nobel Prize for Physics – not for relativity,
but for a beautiful, lucid, and correct theory of the photoelectric effect. In 1923 it
was Bohr’s turn. He received the Nobel Prize for his theory of the atom. As a Nobel
laureate Bohr experienced an immediate large increase in prestige in his own coun-
try. The Danish government funded the construction of a building for a new institute
to be directed by Bohr. Initially the plan was to have a lecture hall, offices, a library,
experimental laboratories, and residences for Bohr, his family, his research associ-
ates, et al. entirely under one roof. This arrangement did not work well, in part
because the Bohrs had seven children who were not always quiet. Eventually the
Carlsberg mansion, Denmark’s House of Honor, was made available, and, as the
nation’s most eminent scientist, Bohr moved there with his family.
Personality of Niels Bohr
Bohr was a large, cheerful man who loved the outdoors. He enjoyed walking in the
woods north of Copenhagen. He liked to drink beer with his students at the local
pub. His idea of a great holiday was to go downhill skiing in Norway.
Other physicists were very fond of Bohr, since he was always kindly and helpful.
He hardly ever was impolite to anyone presenting a paper, unlike some of his con-
temporaries. On the other hand, he could be a difficult house guest (Margit W. Dirac,
personal communication).
Bohr’s work habits were somewhat unusual. Many theoretical physicists prefer
to work alone, but not Bohr. He liked to have an assistant whose job was to take
206 J.R. Albright
notes while Bohr lectured on the subject at hand. The assistant was expected to ask
questions and make comments, including telling the professor when there was a
mistake. It is easy to understand that most aspiring assistants were unable to thrive
under such a regimen, but some (notably Hendrik Kramers and Léon Rosenfeld)
were able to enjoy the task.
One of Bohr’s most attractive qualities was his kindliness toward younger scien-
tists. He was a mentor to more than a generation of people who went on to become
world leaders in science, especially physics. To many of them he became a father
figure; they would come to Copenhagen to receive advice about problems – per-
sonal as well as scientific. A surprising number of the residents at Bohr’s institute
became Nobel Prize winners, including Paul Dirac (UK), Werner Heisenberg
(Germany), Lev Landau (Russia), Felix Bloch (USA), Wolfgang Pauli (Austria),
Harold Urey (USA), Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar (India), Ben Mottelson (USA),
and Niels’s son Aage Bohr (Denmark). Important physicists who spent time at the
institute but did not receive a Nobel Prize include John Slater (USA), Georg Placzek
(Czechoslovakia), George Gamow (Russia), and John Wheeler (USA).
Many of these young investigators came to Bohr’s Institute to work on quantum
mechanics, the magnificent theoretical structure introduced by Heisenberg, Dirac,
and Erwin Schrödinger, which was to yield the answers to the questions about
Bohr’s atomic model. The new theory called for a regrounding of atomic physics
based, not on Newton’s laws, but on new and strange mathematical methods. In
1926 Dirac and Heisenberg were both in Copenhagen; both had come quite far in
developing quantum mechanics, and both were adding to the structure all the time.
Bohr learned the new theory from these two young savants and was most generous
in lending them encouragement and support, even though their work was clearly
bringing about the downfall of Bohr’s prize theory of the atom.
In passing, there have been other instances of a Nobel Prize awarded for work
that was later discovered to be in error. For example, Enrico Fermi was awarded the
Nobel Prize; he richly deserved it, but not for the reason stated in the citation. His
experiment was good, but the interpretation was quite wrong.
Bohr’s Theory of Opposites
Up to 1927 one of the chief mysteries of physics concerned the nature of light: Does
it consist of waves or particles? The question is old, and one answer or another held
sway for long years. No one could rule out either choice and the two options really
seemed opposites as viewed by classical (Newton, Maxwell) physics. To help see
why these two views are incompatible and why there is no tertium quid, we review
briefly what we mean by wave and particle.
A wave is a disturbance that propagates in space and time. Examples are waves
on the surface of a body of water, sound waves, and light waves. The first of these is
the easiest to observe because the wave structures are visible to the human eye. All
you need to do is watch waves on a large lake or ocean; ripples in a bathtub might
suffice. It has been known as long ago as the time of Geoffrey Chaucer that sound is
a wave phenomenon (Chaucer, 1380, Bk 2). The wave nature of light is not apparent
in everyday phenomena because – although some light is visible – the wave struc-
tures of such light are rather small. Since a wave is a disturbance, and it is the nature
of a disturbance that a little one makes a lot more disturbance, it follows that a wave
is not localized. One square centimeter of the surface of a lake may contain part of
a wave, but the entire wave covers more area than that.
A particle is a small object that moves through space-time according to Newton’s
laws. A particle by its very nature is a localized concentration of either matter or
energy. If at some time you know its position and velocity and all the forces that can
act on it, you can predict its subsequent motion.
A wave propagates in a straight line unless it is deviated by (1) reflection, (2)
refraction, (3) diffraction, or (4) scattering. A particle, according to Newton’s first
law, travels in a straight line unless it is acted on by a net external force. The fact that
waves and particles behave so similarly helps to explain why there was such argu-
mentation about whether light is a wave or a particle phenomenon.
The approach to physics through classical theories is unable to resolve this para-
dox (Bohr 1987, Vol. 1: 34–35). Quantum mechanics provided the breakthrough.
Around 1927 Bohr had a mystical experience that resulted in his insight that it was
permissible for light to have both wave and particle properties. If you design an
experiment to distinguish, you will get wave or particle results, whichever you set
out to measure. Bohr called this the principle of complementarity; Bohr pushed his
new principle and from then on generalized it to apply to lots of questions, not all of
which were scientific (Plotnitsky 1994).
Bohr was obsessed with symmetry. He insisted that the building for his institute
should exhibit perfect symmetry. At one point he interrupted the construction to
force the workers to reposition a door to preserve symmetry. After the construction
was completed, he arranged his office to be symmetric. A picture on a wall had to
be balanced by one of the same size on the opposite wall. His desk had to be accu-
rately centered. For all this concern about symmetry, he knew that opposites exist.
He set about reconciling (coinciding?) these in ways that Cusanus would have liked.
When the Danish government granted Bohr a title of nobility, his coat of arms dis-
played the yin-yang symbol at the very center.
From 1927 to 1935, Bohr and Einstein engaged in a continual debate about deter-
minism. In 1927 Heisenberg showed that quantum mechanics entails the uncer-
tainty principle: you cannot know both the position and momentum of an object to
arbitrary accuracy. It follows that Newtonian and Laplacian determinism can be
retained only on the average. Einstein refused to accept quantum mechanics on this
account. Bohr defended quantum mechanics with great skill. Every time Einstein
came up with a thought experiment to disprove quantum mechanics, Bohr would
find the flaw in Einstein’s reasoning.
In the 1930s Bohr’s work moved steadily into nuclear physics. His work on the
atomic physics of hydrogen led everyone to expect that similar methods would work
for the nucleus of the atom. As Bohr and everyone else discovered, the nucleus is
more difficult than that. The open pathways into nuclear physics involve models, of
208 J.R. Albright
which there are two opposite general approaches. One of these involves the discrete
states of quantum mechanics, much as in the Bohr model of the atom; this approach
is typified by the nuclear shell model of Fermi, Goeppert-Mayer, and Jensen. The
other approach is to use a wave-like, continuous model, such as the compound
nucleus model, the liquid drop model, or the optical model. Bohr used the second
approach. In the late 1930 he and John Wheeler used the liquid drop model to show
how nuclear fission might be possible. The application to the design of nuclear reac-
tors and explosives is obvious.
When the Nazis overran Denmark in World War II, Bohr stayed put in Copenhagen
until it became apparent that there would be a round-up of Danish Jews. Bohr,
whose mother was Jewish, then escaped by boat to Sweden; his family soon fol-
lowed. He was then flown to Scotland by a British airplane and immediately joined
the British nuclear weapon project. He soon departed with his son Aage for America,
where both of them worked at Los Alamos on what had become the joint British-
American nuclear project. There was a continuing political struggle associated with
the need for security in nuclear matters. Bohr advocated open sharing of nuclear
information among all the Allied nations, including the Soviet Union. Winston
Churchill, Franklin Roosevelt, and General Leslie Groves insisted on strict secrecy.
Bohr had to comply with the top commanders, who in their turn did not trust him.
They considered him a blabbermouth who was dangerous and needed to be watched
closely.
After the war Bohr continued his advocacy of complementarity. To cite just one
example from 1953, the opposite but complementary nature of objectivity and subjec-
tivity was addressed by Bohr in a paper on science and religion (Bohr 1998, Vol. 4).
Summary
To summarize, the parallels and differences between these two great thinkers are
made somewhat more difficult–not because one was a theologian and the other a
scientist, but because they lived almost 500 years apart. Naturally there were big
differences in their external surroundings. Both were European, but Bohr spent
important amounts of time in America, which was a place unknown to Europe until
after Cusanus died. Europe in the time of Cusanus was called Christendom. It was
already split by the Roman-Byzantine schism, but still Christian. By Bohr’s time it
had become possible for an individual to reject the official religion, as Bohr and his
wife did.
Other clear differences present themselves. Cusanus was trained in theology.
Bohr, although he came from the land of Søren Aabye Kierkegaard, was not inter-
ested in theology. Cusanus was a canon lawyer who was adept at Church politics.
Bohr tried to make a political impact but was ignored and distrusted.
As to similarities, both knew most of the science of their times. Both were adept
at mathematics and liked it. Both were fond of philosophy and contributed to it in
remarkable ways. Their major philosophical contributions in both cases revolved

around the resolution of paradoxes arising from diametrically opposite points of
view. There is a long tradition of such reconciliation: flesh and spirit (St. Paul), good
and evil (St. Augustine), conciliarism and papalism (Cusanus), wave and particle
(Bohr), determinism and uncertainty (Einstein and Bohr).
As Bohr put it, the opposite of a great truth is sometimes just a mistake; but very
often the opposite of a great truth is also a great truth.
References
Bohr, Niels. 1987. The philosophical writings of Niels Bohr, four volumes. Woodbridge: Ox Bow
Press.
Chaucer, Geoffrey. C. 1380. The house of fame.
Nicholas of Cusa. 1997. Selected Spiritual Writings. Trans. E. Lawrence Bond. New York: Paulist
Press.
Plotnitsky, Arkady. 1994. Complementarity. Durham: Duke University Press.
Valliere, Paul. 2012. Conciliarism: A history of decision-making in the church. New York:
John R. Albright is Visiting Professor of Religion and Science at the Lutheran School of Theology
at Chicago. John retired in 2004 from Purdue University Calumet, where he was Chair of the
Department of Chemistry and Physics since 1995. Prior to his position at Purdue, he spent 32 years
at Florida State University, where he was Professor of Physics and Associate Chair of the Physics
Department, with a special joint appointment in the Humanities Program. In that connection, he
taught religion and science courses at the graduate and undergraduate levels, both of which were
recognized in international competitions by the John Templeton Foundation. Also at Florida State,
John was nominated by his students and given a major teaching award at commencement. John has
published more than ten articles and book chapters in religion and science and more than fifty
articles in physics, and also co-authored a textbook, Introduction to Atomic and Nuclear Physics.
He and his wife, Carol Rausch Albright, served as regional co-directors for the Science and
Religion Course Program funded by the John Templeton Foundation, first in the Southeastern
United States, and then in the Midwest. He also served on several governance committees for the
Lutheran Church in America, has been a featured speaker at regional church conventions, and
helped to design the Lutheran Book of Worship. He currently serves on the ELCA Alliance for
Faith, Science and Technology and on the Ecumenical Roundtable on Science, Technology, and
the Church.
Chapter 17
The Early History of the European
Conferences on Science and Religion
and of ESSSAT
Willem B. Drees
Abstract The early history of the European Conferences on Science and Religion
and ESSSAT, the European Society for the Study of Science And Theology, is docu-
mented and discussed. In Europe, there were, and still are, genuine differences in
attitude towards methodology, ideas about the reach of knowledge, ways of under-
standing religion and theology, and priorities with respect to the agenda. Initiating
European conferences on religion and science in the 1980s was quite an achieve-
ment. Once started, a controversy over the name and preamble of the Society
emerged. Should it be ‘science and religion’ or ‘science and theology’? How the
later terminology became dominant, is documented here, drawing on minutes and
some letters. However, over the years, ESSSAT has provided a platform where dif-
ferent intellectual perspectives on relations between religion and science can be
presented and discussed.
Keywords ESSSAT • Europe • European conferences on science and theology •

Antje Jackelén • Science and religion • Science and theology • Karl
Schmitz-Moormann
Freising, 1994: ESSSAT Needs a New Secretary
The Fifth European Conference on Science and Theology, in the spring of 1994,
was held in the Kardinal-Döpfner-Haus, the old residence of the Roman Catholic
archbishop of Freising, north of Münich. A monumental ecclesiastical educational
complex that satisfied my Dutch Protestant prejudices about Bavarian Catholicism.
W.B. Drees (*)

Tilburg Center for Logics, Ethics and Philosophy of Science (TILPS),
Tilburg University, Tilburg, The Netherlands
e-mail: w.b.drees@tilburguniversity.edu

212 W.B. Drees
During one of the breaks, Jan Fennema, another Dutch participant, spoke with me
about the fact that Christoph Wassermann was to step down as secretary of ESSSAT,
the European Society for the Study of Science and Theology. As a Council member,
I knew: on February 19 1994 Wassermann had announced his resignation in a letter
to the Council. He had other pressing academic commitments. Jan wondered who
might succeed him? Would it be possible to have someone who would be able to
work with the president, Karl Schmitz-Moormann, while also being sufficiently
independent? A few days later we learned that that Antje Jackelén would be the next
secretary. Jan responded very positively, grateful for the person, for her social skills,
her command of languages, and her broad theological interest and attitude.
With this article, I hope to make clear why, given the early history of ESSSAT,
Antje Jackelén was so welcome for ESSSAT as its second secretary (1994–2001)
and as its fourth president (2008–2014). ESSSAT is a genuinely European society,
also in some of its internal tensions. Thus, studying the early history of ESSSAT
provides a window on Europe and European religious thought in the 1980s. These
reflections on the early history of ESSSAT supplement personal recollections by
Karl Schmitz-Moormann, the founding president (1996) and a description by
Helmut K. Reich, who surveyed the series of conferences (2012).
A disclosure: I have been at all 15 European Conferences held so far. I served on
the Council from 1990, which one might consider the founding of ESSSAT though
it formally isn’t (see below), until 1998. I served as President from 2002 until 2008,
and stayed on the Council as Immediate Past-President for another 6 years while
Antje Jackelén was president (2008–2014). Some of the following is from personal
recollection, and may well suffer the biases of memory, though I checked confer-
ence volumes as well as personal archival material such as letters, programs, and
minutes. More archival material is kept at the University of Lund; material from old
issues of ESSSAT News can be found at www.ESSSAT.eu. Given the personal char-
acter of these recollections, I take the liberty to use first names from time to time.
Europe Before the European Conferences
For a European, Europe is marked by diversity. Hence, organizing Europe-wide

conferences was a significant achievement. Let us consider briefly a few ‘dimen-
sions’ on which there are differences.
For Protestants in German-speaking countries after WWII, one theologian domi-
nated the field: Karl Barth (1886–1966). The impact of the multi-volume Kirchliche
Dogmatik was strengthened by the moral authority of Barth as one who had opposed
National Socialism. The first two books of the Kirchliche Dogmatik were titled
Prolegomena, preliminary issues. Generalizing, I have found scholars trained in
Germany to be attentive to issues of method and foundations, to
‘Grundlagenforschung’. As a contrast: When the British biochemist-theologian
Arthur Peacocke had published his Creation in the World of Science (1979), “one
German reviewer wistfully noted, they displayed the Anglo-Saxon propensity of not
17 The Early History of the European Conferences on Science and Religion… 213
describing one’s methodology and metaphysics for undertaking such a task of

reconciliation between disciplines. It was true that, like any empiricist, like any
working scientist, I had waded into the problems thinking of ways to tackle them
only ambulando and not on the basis of any predetermined procedure or formula.”
(Peacocke 1996, p. 13f.).
With the emphasis on foundational issues came also a particular restraint in
German Protestant theological reflection, a self-restraint which I associate with the
philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724–1804). In his Kritik der reinen Vernunft Kant
analyzed the conditions for knowledge. As knowledge is articulated in human cat-
egories, one cannot know how things in themselves are. Such philosophical consid-
erations may promote a cautious attitude, also in theology – perhaps agnostic and
constructivist rather than realistic, in the philosophical sense of realism as corre-
spondence of our ideas with reality. Running ahead of the chronology: When I had
given my lecture at the Second European Conference (1988), the Scottish theolo-
gian Thomas F. Torrance said in a conversation in the evening to me that ‘you con-
tinentals are still inhibited by Kant’. In a concluding address at that conference,
Jürgen Hübner (1990, p. 175) contrasted two orientations, a realist one – he men-
tioned Torrance as a major representative – and a more nominalist one, which he
linked to my contribution.
Among European theologians and believers, one also finds different ideas about
the nature of religion. In his On Religion: Speeches to its Cultured Despisers (origi-
nally in German in 1799), Friedrich Schleiermacher (1768–1834) accepted the
Kantian analysis of scientific knowledge and of moral practice. He added a domain
for faith, rooted primarily in our awareness (or ‘feeling’) of absolute dependence. In
contrast, in the Anglo-Saxon style of ‘natural theology’, theology is often treated as
cognitive, like a high-level scientific theory or an empirically informed metaphysics.
Thus, Protestant German thought had a strong emphasis on foundational ques-
tions, and tended to distinguish the nature of scientific, moral and religious claims
and arguments. In contrast, the British tradition of natural theology but also British
Barthians such as Torrance, tended to be realist in their understanding of science
and of religious beliefs.
There was a different ‘realism’ to German Protestant theology that was impor-
tant to the agenda. Theological engagement with the sciences in the period after the
Second World War was marked by major moral and political issues, especially the
threat of nuclear weapons. Günter Howe (1908–1968), mathematician and lay theo-
logian, involved in the FEST, the Forschungsstätte der Evangelische
Studiengemeinschaft, a think tank of the Protestant churches in Germany, was not
exceptional when he said: “Wir werden die Atomfrage nur lösen wenn wir die
Gottesfrage in einer neuen Tiefe begegnen”; to deal with the gravest threat to human
existence, nuclear weapons, we need to think again in greater depth about God. He
found this depth in the work of Barth (quoted by Van Dijk 1997, p. 220; see Howe
1971). The philosopher Georg Picht, chairman of the FEST, gave his major philo-
sophical work Hier und Jetzt (Here and now) the subtitle Philosophieren nach
Auschwitz und Hiroshima (Picht 1980, 1981). The scientist-philosopher from this
German tradition most widely known in other countries became Carl Friedrich von
214 W.B. Drees
Weizsäcker (1912–2007), engaged with fundamental questions in the interpretation

of quantum physics as well as with moral-philosophical issues in a technological
society.
A further characteristic of the German situation might be a negative connotation
of Religion, at least for some. Karl Barth had spoken out clearly against ‘Religion’,
in a historical, political context when natural theology aligned with a nationalistic
‘Blut und Boden’ theology. And in German universities (and with that the training
of theologians), there is a clear separation of theology, to be studied in Faculties that
are either Evangelisch (Protestant) or Catholic, and religious studies
(Religionswissenschaft). For a more thorough and nuanced review of discourse on
religion and science in Germany, one might consult recent review articles by Dirk
Evers (2015a, b).
On all these dimensions individual points of view vary, but schematically speak-
ing, European countries, denominations and philosophical traditions are different,
in multiple ways. In the UK there tended to be a more pragmatic attitude towards
issues of method, while discussions moved more quickly towards realistic discourse
on the understanding of God and God’s action in the world. Arthur Peacocke’s
Creation and the World of Science (1979) was a major signal and impetus for this
revival; Polkinghorne’s One World: The Interaction of Science and Theology came
a few years later (1986). Language played a role as well. Among the many names in
the ‘Index’ in Peacocke’s substantial work, Picht and Howe are absent, while Von
Weizsäcker appears with one reference, but his name misspelled as Weiszäcker; in
the passage to which the index refers (p. 41), the name is spelled as Weizäcker.
Scholars within the three main linguistic groups (French, German and English)
were not too familiar with the literature published in other languages.
Roman Catholics had a stronger international network, among Catholics. Among
Catholic colleagues there often is an interest in metaphysical and methodological
issues. However, they do not go back to Kant but to Thomas Aquinas and others
from the European Middle Ages, and beyond Thomas to Augustine, Aristotle and
Plato. In religion and science discussions, a particular subgroup is interested in the
development of a new vision that integrates theology and an evolutionary perspec-
tive on reality; for some, the main thinker in this respect was Pierre Teilhard de
Chardin (1881–1955) – a Jesuit paleontologist and priest, who in his time had been
marginalized by the leadership of the Roman Catholic Church. A positive point of
reference for many Catholics involved in ‘religion and science’ has been the Second
Vatican Council, in the 1960s, which opened doors to the world. For a review of one
segment of Catholic Europe, see the review article by Lluis Oviedo and Alvaro
Garre on Italy, Spain and Portugal (2015).
The Scandinavians as Lutherans tended to be well versed in German philosophi-
cal and protestant theological literature, but also connected well to the English lit-
erature. Thus, Scandinavians easily serve as mediators between those two linguistic
worlds. The Dutch divided by confession: Protestants post - WWII oriented on
German literature; Catholics paid attention to Francophone literature, while the
younger generation is increasingly focused on English and American literature.
So far, I considered the Western half of Europe. Until 1989, the year the Berlin
Wall fell, countries of Central and Eastern Europe were hardly involved in the
European academic sphere. Churches in the DDR had relations with churches in the
West, from Germany or countries such as the Netherlands, while some Catholic
priests in Poland studied in Louvain, Rome, or other Catholic settings. The Orthodox
churches, from Russia, Romania, the Ukraine, and Greece, had joined the World
Council of Churches, and thus had connections with Protestant churches, but were
not involved in Western religion and science discourse.
To summarize this schematic overview: Europe has a rich internal diversity, by
language, confessional background, philosophical orientation, educational arrange-
ments, and social history, with various ways in which the neutrality of the state is
understood. Such issues had consequences for the ways people might relate religion
and science. A Europe-wide engagement with these issues was not to be expected,
and should not be assumed to have been easy.
Pre-History of the First European Conference
In the United States of America, the Institute on Religion in an Age of Science

(IRAS) has held weeklong Summer conferences at Star Island, a small island in
the Atlantic Ocean, north of Boston, almost every year since 1954 (see www.iras.
org for details). In 1983, the conference was titled “What is and What Makes a
Person?” Among the participants were Arthur Peacocke and Karl Schmitz-
Moormann, a German Catholic theologian at a professional Hochschule in Bochum,
Germany. On August 6 1983, on the boat back from the island to the main land,
these two Europeans decided to initiate a European conference (Schmitz-Moormann
1996, p. 4).
In September 1984, Arthur Peacocke hosted at Clare College, Cambridge, repre-
sentatives of eleven different groups from six different countries for a short consul-
tation (Andersen and Peacocke 1987, p. 9). For the Dutch working group Atomium,
its secretary Paul van Dijk went, ethicist at Twente University, and by training and
character a Protestant theologian and minister. In Cambridge, those present decided
to organize the First European Conference on Science and Religion. The organizing
committee consisted of Svend Andersen (Aarhus, DK), Jürgen Hübner of the
Forschungsstätte der evangelischen Studiengemeinschaft, FEST (Heidelberg,
Germany) and Karl Schmitz Moormann; later Hans May, director of the Evangelische
Akademie in Loccum joined, supported by one of his staff, the physicist Meinfried
Striegnitz. (To counter potential misunderstanding: ‘evangelisch’ in German refers
to mainline Protestants, and not to evangelicals.) Through the European confer-
ences in the philosophy of religion, in which Svend Andersen was a regular partici-
pant, my thesis advisor Huib Hubbeling heard of this conference, and passed the
information on to me; at that time I had just begun doctoral research in religion and
science.
216 W.B. Drees
The First European Conference on Science and Religion:

Loccum 1986
The First European Conference on Science and Religion was held 13–16 March
1986 in the Evangelische Akademie in Loccum, Germany, a Protestant educational
center. The theme was “The Argument about Evolution and Creation”. The main
scientific contributions, in English, were by Germans, and so too for the philosophi-
cal ones except for a Dutch contribution on evolution and ethics, by Gerrit
Manenschijn. The theological section in the conference volume (Andersen and
Peacocke 1987), drawing on plenaries and working groups, is more diverse, though
mostly German and British. In a plenary session on evolution in different theologi-
cal traditions, the Protestant Jürgen Hübner, the Roman Catholic Karl Schmitz-
Moormann, and the Anglican Arthur Peacocke shared the podium. In the concluding
session, Peacocke offered questions for the dialogue, while Viggo Mortensen from
Aarhus, Denmark, discussed two strategies: restriction, exemplified by the Danish
thinker Søren Kierkegaard, and expansion, exemplified by Teilhard de Chardin and,
differently, by Ralph Burhoe, one of the founders of IRAS and of Zygon: Journal of
Religion and Science.
During the conference, we walked to remains of a nearby Cistercian monastery.
In the church there is an altar dedicated to Mary, with a beautiful woodcarving of
people at the feet of Mary and the Child. Near the center there are women, one read-
ing from the Bible, others praying or gazing up in adoration. In the back there are
officials from the church, men, sound asleep. Another man is pickpocketing the
woman who is reading from Scripture, while others are misbehaving too. A six-
teenth century criticism of male leadership. Nonetheless, the European conferences
started off in the 1980s with an all male organizing committee and an all male roster
of speakers.
At Morning Prayer on the final day Hans May, the director of the Akademie,
picked up themes from the conference, especially the remark by one of the speakers
that we are ‘just in the process of leaving the Stone Age’. May pointed to a stone on
the altar.
It is a stone from the concentration camp at Auschwitz. We brought it here and set it up as
an admonition and a reminder that we are stone-age men. And we placed it on the altar
because there is a connection with the One who has crossed the threshold out of the Stone
Age. They wanted to remain in the Stone Age, and so we have remained in the Stone Age
to this very day. That is why they crucified him, that is why we crucified him in Auschwitz.
And I look upon him – and grieve. (May 1987, p. 209)
Here, theology was personal engagement – note the self-involving ‘we’ who
crucified ‘him’. The meeting was an academic conference, but there was – and
always has been at subsequent conferences – a touch of the personal.
At this conference there were Dutch participants from various universities and
networks. There were seven members from Atomium, a working group on religion
and science, including its chairman Hans de Knijff, professor of Protestant theol-
ogy, its secretary Paul van Dijk, and Jan Fennema and Geurt Oosterwegel – the later
three all associated with the University of Twente. Atomium offered to organize a
second conference at the University of Twente in Enschede, the Netherlands. The
main role in preparing for this conference fell on Jan Fennema, a physicist by back-
ground, associated with the philosophy of technology group at Twente University.
Respecting diversity, the first conference went very smoothly. Catholics,
Protestants and Anglicans shared the podium, all eager to promote active engage-
ment with ‘religion and science’.
Enschede 1988: The Last Conference on Science and Religion
The main ‘local’ organizer for the Second European conference on Science and
Religion was Jan (J.W.R.) Fennema. On the ‘International Committee’ were along-
side Fennema, Andersen, Schmitz-Moormann, Peacocke, May and Striegnitz.
Fennema took care that in addition to Jewish and Christian points of view, “Islamic
and Bahá’i were expressed, as well as the persuasions of many participants who had
obviously no particular religious affiliation” (Fennema and Paul 1990b, p. 11; see
also Fennema 1990, p. 23). Implicitly, ‘religion’ was taken to be a broad term, while
‘theology’ was associated with Christianity or theism.
In his own reflections, Fennema writes: “the study of human existence in a world
dominated by the sciences and their applications should be the focus of our con-
cern” (Fennema 1990, p. 14; italic in the original). Ethical concerns have priority,
alongside a personal existential, ‘spiritual’ interest. A few pages later, after speak-
ing of Erasmus, whose portrait graced the conference poster, as a humanist, Fennema
wrote: “A humanism that retains its critical spirit and does not become an ideology
itself is possibly the way to overcome the self-destructive forces of secular society.”
(Fennema 1990, p. 17) Personally, Jan leaned towards a strong emphasis on experi-
ence; his essay refers at various places to Martin Buber’s Ich und Du. In more recent
terms from sociology of religion, his orientation might be understood as example of
the ‘spiritual but not religious’ orientation – an expression which by now has its own
Wikipedia lemma, though perhaps at that time one could have said ‘religious but not
dogmatic’.
Fennema worked hard to make the conference genuinely European by inviting
scholars from Eastern Europe – in 1988, over a year before the Wall in Berlin came
down and the European landscape changed. Karl Schmitz-Moormann praised this
(1996, p. 6); he showed a similar dedication, also with respect to later European
conferences. In Enschede, there was a five person Polish presence including Michael
Heller, winner of the Templeton Prize in 2008 (see Brożek and Heller 2015) and
Joseph Życiński, bishop of Cracow and later archbishop of Lublin, some Hungarians,
two from the DDR, at least one from Czechoslovakia. Fennema used to attend meet-
ings in Eastern Germany and former Yugoslavia, and had various contacts there.
Fennema, like Schmitz-Moormann, was sensitive to linguistic diversity. Schmitz-
Moormann’s wife Nicole was of French origin. In the early years, the European
conferences had some plenaries in other languages than English. When the Council
218 W.B. Drees
discussed initiating a Yearbook (March 23 1992, in the margin of the 4th confer-
ence), it was concluded “English, French and German will be accepted.” The vol-
ume of the third conference had one of the three plenary lectures included in French;
among the 32 published workshop papers, five were in French and one in German
(Wassermann et al. 1992). In contrast, the default now is ‘Euro-English’, with occa-
sional exceptions, such as a few parallel sessions in Italian when the conference was
in Assisi in 2014 and a Spanish book after the conference in Barcelona in 2004
(Baró and Doncel 2008).
On the concluding day, Sunday March 13th 1988, there was a session, “Planning
the Future”. Among the topics to be discussed were the formation of a society,
issues such as its office, annual fee, publications, and future conferences. Among
my personal papers, I found the first page of a “Proposal” for the bylaws for “the
European Society for the Study of Science and Religion”. The Preamble in that
‘Proposal’ in 1988 was:
The European Society for the Study of Science and Religion is established to promote cre-
ative efforts leading to the formulation of effective doctrines integrating the knowledge
coming to our time through our theological traditions and the efforts of science; to facilitate
the dialogue between theologians from different traditions and scientists with different reli-
gious backgrounds; to strife to state values in a way able to orient mankind in a meaningful
way.
This formulation must have been indebted to the bylaws of IRAS, the Institute on
Religion in an Age of Science, as approved on August 1 1985, which has as article
II, Purpose:
The Institute on Religion in an Age of Science is established (1) to promote creative efforts
leading to the formulation, in the light of contemporary knowledge, of effective doctrines
and practices for human welfare; (2) to formulate dynamic and positive relationships
between the concepts developed by science and the goals and hopes of humanity expressed
through religion; and (3) to state human values in such universal and valid terms that they
may be understood by all peoples, whatever their cultural background and experience, in
such a way as to provide a basis for world-wide cooperation.
As far as I can reconstruct from my notes, in the discussion in Enschede there

were two concerns. For some, myself included, ‘our traditions’ and the ambition to
formulate ‘effective doctrine’ made it sound too much an insiders project, assuming
adherence to a particular tradition. Quoting from my limited personal notes from
this meeting, I conclude that those present agreed on “intellectual study, academic
standards (vs. an evangelizing task)”. However, the focus was to be on the “Western
theistic tradition, including opponents, and its relevance for ethics”. A second con-
cern was whether an experiential engagement with religion should be included,
alongside the cognitive focus of such a study. It was emphasized that this was an
intellectual and not a confessional project, and with that, the priority of the intel-
lectual over the experiential was stressed as well. The discussion was engaged, if
not heated. It was decided to leave the further development of a proposal for a soci-
ety to the International Committee. Members became Jan Fennema, Karl Schmitz-
Moormann, Michael Parsons (UK, replacing Arthur Peacocke), Michael Heller
(Poland), Vigo Mortensen (DK, replacing Andersen), Christoph Wassermann and
Bernard Morel, both from Geneva, where the Third Conference would be. Potential
topics for future conferences were mentioned. A conference jointly with the Vatican
Observatory was also already in the picture.
In the introduction to the conference volume, 2 years after the Enschede confer-
ence, Fennema and (1990b, p. 10) spoke of the “discussion, which remained open-
ended, concerning the name of future conferences: Are they to be called ‘conferences
on science and religion’ or ‘conferences on science and theology’?” Given what
happened in the 2 years between Enschede (1988) and Geneva (1990; also the year
the conference volume edited by Fennema and Paul appeared) this assertion was not
merely an observation.
1988–1990: The Push for Theology
A few months after the conference, various Dutch organizations and persons
received a letter from Jan Fennema, dated “16 juni 1988”. He reported on a meeting
of the International Committee, held 10–11 June 1988, in the Catholic Academy in
Wiesbaden. Parsons and Heller had not been able to come; he had met with Morel,
Mortensen, Schmitz-Moormann, and Wassermann. He reports on preparations for
the Geneva conference in 1990. It turned out that the local committee in Geneva,
encouraged by Schmitz-Moormann, had decided to speak of a conference on
Science and Theology, or in French, “science et théologie”. Challenged by Fennema
for this deviation from the history since 1984, Schmitz-Moormann responded that
‘many’ had written him to express their preference for ‘theology’ rather than ‘reli-
gion’. Fennema objected that he might also have collected letters for the opposite
point of view. In response, it was said that it would not be appropriate to wait with
a decision on the basis of remarks of one member and objections from one
country.
The confrontation in June 1988 explains why the signatures under the initial
Bylaws of ESSSAT, dated “Bochum, den 20. November 1988”, include all members
of the International Committee except Jan Fennema, but with Svend Andersen and
Arthur Peacocke as additional signatories. By adding these, Schmitz-Moormann
strengthened the link to the initial group at Cambridge. The Preamble was identical
to the proposal discussed in Enschede, except that the name had been changed into
a society for “Science and Theology”.
The Dutch community – alongside Atomium there were groups at the Catholic
University in Nijmegen and the Protestant Vrije Universiteit in Amsterdam – was
not all of a single mind, qua orientation, with Fennema, but they felt that the deci-
sion should have been left open until the next conference. In September 1989, hav-
ing defended my Ph.D. thesis in Groningen, I joined the interdisciplinary study
center (“Bezinningscentrum”) at the Vrije Universiteit, as its staff member for reli-
gion and the natural sciences. In consultation with others in the Netherlands, we
developed a response to the Bylaws. This response was mailed to Karl Schmitz-
Moormann and Christoph Wassermann, then president and secretary of the newly
220 W.B. Drees
founded society, on January 8 1990, a few months before the conference in Geneva,
asking this to be distributed to the participants at the conference in Geneva. On the
recently founded European Society for the Study of Science and Theology, some
Dutch considerations and proposals was a document of eleven pages, with 24 num-
bered proposals – one on the process, one on the preamble, and 22 on details in the
bylaws such as types of membership and procedures for voting. With some more
experience in academic politics, I now think this was not an effective document.
I received a three page letter from Karl dated March 4, 1990, a few weeks before
the conference in Geneva (March 29–April 1). He thanks for my letter “which came
not entirely as a surprise to me”. He argues that the International Committee was
charged to make any necessary amendments to the bylaws and deposit these, “to
have the Society gain its legal status”. The name had been discussed extensively,
and the committee “has decided against one vote”. Thus, the upcoming meeting in
Geneva was not to be considered a constitutive meeting of the society. He then
referred the more technical points to the ‘internal rules’, which they were preparing
for the general assembly at the Geneva conference. Though the text for the preamble
in the Dutch proposal was quite different from any text proposed by Fennema, he
did not see the difference. “As far as I can see, nobody outside the Netherlands does
want those changes which have been proposed already by Jan Fennema and have
been voted down unanimously by the rest of the committee. (…) Actually, the
majority of the committee-members would quit the Society if such changes were
made, including me. Therefore it appears, that Jan Fennema and perhaps the Dutch
participants of our Conference do want to build up another Society.” He follows up
with extensive explication why it should be theology, and not religion: “Religion
(…) as such cannot encounter the world of Science. (…) in a more narrow sense,
religion is the realm of the irrational, not accessible to rational arguments: it may be
described by the means of science but is not a partner of dialogue with science.”
In a retrospect in 1996, a few months before his sudden death, Karl Schmitz-
Moormann wrote that already in 1983, on the boat back from Star Island Peacocke
and he discussed the need for a network of those working in, or interested in ‘the
field of Science and Theology’ (1996, p. 4). In a note with this phrase, he wrote: “It
might be noted, that we avoided rather early the American terminology that usually
avoids to speak of theology.” (emphasis added). He also suggests that at the initial
meeting in Cambridge, it was already decided that “a European Conference on
Science and Theology” should be organized. He speaks of two decisions at the end
of the first conference, namely to hold a second conference in Twente, and: “The
possibility to establish formally a European Society for the Study of Science and
Theology should be further explored. The preparatory group (…) charged Karl
Schmitz-Moormann with this task.” (1996, p. 5). Apparently, while the second con-
ference was prepared, there were also issues on finance, selection of speakers and
the acceptance of papers. Thus, Schmitz-Moormann wrote, 8 years after the event:
“The preparation of the Twente Conference was at times a nightmare, the contacts
between the preparatory committee and the local committee were not well worked
out, nor were the corresponding responsibilities” (1996, p. 5). However, “in spite of
the early fears the conference was very successful” (1996, p. 6). He also wrote that
at the end of the conference, “two tendencies appeared to confront one another”,
those who wanted to explore “Religion in all its forms in its relation to science”, and
those who argued that “this would only make sense if Science could be compared to
Religion as such”. “This strife for clarification, what was finally reached in 1992 in
Rocca di Papa, started in Twente.”
By the way, I found an ESSSAT membership list of February 1990, a month
before the Geneva conference. The Science and Religion Forum was a member, and
17 individuals: Schmitz-Moormann, Wassermann, and Mariano Artigas, Werner
Beckel, Frederick Ferré, Ulf Görman (who became the 2d president], Lars Haikola,
Antje Jackelén (became the 4th President), Walter Jim Neidhart, Michael W.S.
Parsons, Iain Paul, Karl Helmut Reich (who organized the 5th conference, in
Freising), John Robertson, Thomas Forsyth Torrance, Roger Trigg, and Christopher
Wiltsher (who organized the conference in Durham in 1998 and served as treasurer
for many years thereafter), and myself.
Geneva, 1990: Science and Theology Accepted
The next conference thus was “The Third European Conference on Science and
Theology” (Wassermann, Kirby and Rordorff 1992, emphasis added). As Wassermann
(1992, p. 1; italics in the original) wrote in the introduction of that volume, the con-
ference “no longer purports to encompass the immense field of science and religion,
but limits itself to research in the more restricted field of science and theology.” In
his In Memoriam for Karl Schmitz-Moormann, Wassermann affirmed this stance,
and recalls: “Karl strongly advocated the view that the debate should take place at an
academic level and in the context of the Judaeo-Christian tradition and that therefore
the society should debate science in the context of theology and not religion or reli-
giosity in general” (Wassermann 1998, p. xii). Aside of the general German suspi-
cion of ‘Religion’, it seemed to me that for Schmitz-Moormann there was also the
example of IRAS as an example to leave to the Americans. The presence of Baha’í
at the Enschede conference, concern about ‘New Age’ and related movements, and
Fennema’s emphasis on humanism may added fuel to his dedication.
At the conference in Geneva, there was a general assembly, but a fundamental
discussion on the name was no longer deemed useful. As the Minutes of the
Assembly of March 31, 1990 have it on “the Bylaws”: “This discussion was unani-
mously delegated to the council.” A set of ‘Internal Rules’ were proposed, but these
evoked new discussions and were shelved, never to be adopted. The first Council
was elected. The Dutch delegation proposed a younger Dutch scholar as Council
member, me. Schmitz-Moormann was now elected president by the Council accord-
ing to the Bylaws.
We visited CERN, the particle physics laboratory. Our host there was Ugo
Amaldi, an Italian physicist heading the Delta-Experiment. He joined the council of
ESSSAT for 2 years. He left a lasting legacy, as he introduced the extensive
workshop program with papers distributed in advance of the meeting, with a limited
222 W.B. Drees
number of plenary lectures. Since then, most conferences had five plenary lectures,
with about 80, or even up to 120, papers discussed in parallel sessions. This allowed
younger scholars as well as others an opportunity to have their ideas discussed, and
with that the possibility for some to have their travel and participation funded by
their home institution.
After the conference, Karl invited Christoph Wassermann and me to his house to
prepare a revision of the Bylaws. We had a pleasant meeting in Bochum on May 15
and 16 1990. We came up with a revision of the preamble and of various practical
details. This was discussed in the Council; Mike Parsons as a native speaker made
some editorial amends. Thus, there was a proposal from the Council to the General
Assembly, meeting in Rocca di Papa, near Rome.
Rocca di Papa, 1992: The Bylaws Revised
The next conference was in a conference center in Rocca di Papa, across the lake
from Castel Gandolfo, where the Vatican Observatory had its facilities. Another
great conference, with conferees attending in Rome one of the audiences of Pope
John Paul II. Here I limit myself to the discussion on the nature of ESSSAT. In the
Minutes of the General Assembly, held March 28, 1992, it reads:
Changes in the Bylaws
After lengthy discussion on the new preamble prepared by W. Drees, K. Schmitz-
Moormann and C. Wassermann the text as proposed was accepted with two opposing votes
and no abstentions. The English text of the preamble that was accepted is:
The European Society for the Study of Science and Theology is founded to advance
open and critical communication between the disciplines of Theology and Science, to pro-
mote their cross-fertilisation and to work on the solution of inter-disciplinary problems. In
this task the Society regards itself as standing within the Judaeo-Christian tradition.
The ‘lengthy discussion’ was initiated by some from Poland and from Germany
who had not been involved in the previous developments. It must have felt to
Schmitz-Moormann as a repetition, another attempt to change the course of the
society. I thought that most issued raised by members could be solved by a minor
editorial change, and suggested such during the discussion. This made things worse;
Karl suggested that I abused the discussion to revert on the earlier agreement. Thus,
I felt the need to come back to this discussion during the next meeting of the Council,
later that day. From the Minutes of the Council Meeting March 28, 1992, which for
some unknown reason I wrote:
1. REGARDING THE ASSEMBLY DISCUSSION ON THE BYLAWS
Drees asks for an opportunity to come back briefly to the discussion during the General
Assembly. This was granted.
Drees traces the unpleasant confrontation to a misunderstanding and a mistake. The
misunderstanding regarded the nature of his suggestion. During the assembly there were a
couple of comments from members, like Glodz, on the last sentence [of the preamble].
Drees thought that one might increase support for the new preamble by a minor editorial
change, which would avoid some of the problems referred to in these comments without
changing the essential aspects of the proposal. He therefore proposed to move the reference
to the Judaeo-Christian tradition to a place within the main sentence rather than having it as
a separate sentence at the end. The editorial nature of the suggestion was not understood by
the president, who appeared to take it as an extremely serious substantial change. That was
the misunderstanding. The mistake Drees considers to have made himself was that he con-
tinued with the suggestion after having discovered that it provoked such an angry reaction
from the president.
Calmer Waters: ESSSAT After 1992
Given the sensitivities, it may be understandable that in 1994 when ESSSAT needed
to look for a new secretary, it was a question who would be the right person to work
with Schmitz-Moormann, having his trust, while also offering an independent voice.
Antje Jackelén, a theologian at that time based in Sweden but of German origin, a
younger generation than Karl, was the perfect match.
According the Bylaws, Karl had to step down in 1996. He had retired from his
position in Germany, and by that time was spending most of his time in the USA. He
proposed Ulf Görman from Lund, Sweden, the same department as Jackelén. Both
for his personality and his background, Ulf was a good mediating figure. In 1998 I
left the Council, and also laid down my work as editor of ESSSAT News, which I had
initiated in 1991. Antje took this on alongside her work as secretary. She also com-
pleted her dissertation, earning her in 1999 the doctorate at Lund, under the supervi-
sion of Werner Jeanrond, a theologian with a hermeneutical orientation. The book
was subsequently published in German, in Swedish, and in English (Jackelén 2005).
Sadly enough for us in ESSSAT, in 2001 Antje left for the Lutheran School of
Theology at Chicago, to head the religion and science efforts of the Zygon Center
for Religion and Science as successor of Philip Hefner. Eva-Lotta Grantén, another
young Swedish theologian and ethicist, at that time working on her doctorate under
the supervision of Ulf Görman, stepped in as secretary in 2001. Thus, it seemed that
we lost Antje Jackelén for ESSSAT, though she continued to come to the European
conferences. I was blessed that, by 2003 also ‘Doctor’, Eva-Lotta continued when I
was elected to be president of ESSSAT (2002–2008). At that time, the earlier sensi-
tivities involving the Dutch had subsided fully.
With the development of the workshop program and a pattern of going every 2
years to another place in Europe, the basic format of ESSSAT and the European
conferences had been established. Luckily, again and again we had partners who
realized a European conference as an opportunity to develop their own work locally,
or – from Barcelona – even intercontinentally, reaching out to Latin America.
Tensions between local organizers and the leadership of ESSSAT were a recurrent
feature, but always satisfactorily resolved. ESSSAT has made a grand tour across
Europe, at places with different confessional, linguistic and climatological condi-
tions (see the Appendix). Often a somewhat smaller town with a well-respected
university was eager to host the European conference, as it would strengthen their
European network and reputation.
224 W.B. Drees
The Return of Antje Jackelén
In 2006 we had our conference in Iaşi, in Eastern Romania, thanks to Iulian Rusu, a
chemist, and Gheorghe Petraru, a priest and professor of theology. The conference
received support from the Archbishop of Iaşi and Metropolit of Moldavia and
Bucovina, Daniel Ciobotea, who shortly thereafter became Patriarch of the
Romanian Orthodox Church. A remarkable man, fluent in English, French and
German. Full of initiative; the diocese had its own radio station, its own wine, and
much else. He saved our conference by providing facilities when Chris Wiltsher, our
treasurer, discovered upon visiting Iaşi a few months before the conference that the
hotel we had reserved was closed for renovation. Metropolit Daniel was to deliver
the opening speech. We had not received a text in advance, but our invited respon-
dent had accepted that challenge.
As President, I walk in with the Metropolit, who was dressed in his impressive
clerical outfit. We are about to enter the door, as he tells me that he has decided to
deliver his speech in Romanian. I did not need to worry, his staff was already dis-
tributing an English translation. A challenge to the respondent, but Reverend
Professor Jackelén did quite well with her improvised response. In the discussion
period, when asked whether he could recapitulate his view in English for those
unable to follow his beautiful Romanian, Metropolit Daniel gave another lecture in
English (Ciobotea 2008). Fluently, without notes, well informed. He had chosen
Romanian because TV was recording the opening session; our participants were not
his primary audience. This conference made me realize again how diverse Europe
is, with the overwhelming hospitality of our colleagues from Romania and the cabi-
net minister of religious affairs, A. Lemeni, in attendance.
As my term as president would end in 2008, I consulted people on candidates for
the next president. Many said they would have preferred Antje Jackelén, had she
been in Europe. Some even suggested that we could have a president based in the
United States. We were saved by the Swedish Church, as in the fall of 2006 Antje
was elected bishop of Lund, taking office in 2007. Despite her other responsibilities,
she accepted to be nominated as President for ESSSAT, and was elected by the
Council at the 12th European conference on Science and Theology, held at Sigtuna
in Sweden, a conference mainly organized by Ulf Görman, my predecessor as presi-
dent. A bonus was that we finally lived up to the message from the Mary altar in
Loccum. With a female president, ESSSAT became more genuine inclusive, gender
wise. And we not only had a Nordic president, but a sequence of conferences in the
north: After Sigtuna in Sweden we went to Edinburgh (2010) and Tartu, Estonia in
2012, before going south to Assisi, Italy, in 2014.
At the 14th European Conference on Science and Theology, in Tartu, Estonia, the
general assembly returned to the bylaws, now renamed ‘Articles of Association’, or
in German ‘Satzung’ (see ESSSAT News 22 (1, March 2012), p. 12–17). Once more,
I was involved in preparing a revision, with Görman, Jackelén, Meisinger and oth-
ers. The Preamble now became:
The European Society for the Study of Science and Theology is founded to advance open,
critical and constructive studies of all facets of interactions of religious traditions and the-
ologies with the sciences, with a special interest in views that are prominent in European
history.
Another change: the president was to be elected by the membership, rather than
by the Council. These changes went through easily. In 2014 the general assembly
elected our second president from Germany, Dirk Evers, Professor of Systematic
Theology at Martin-Luther-University at Halle-Wittenberg. A younger generation,
and in 2002 winner of the ESSSAT Prize for his dissertation. He was elected unani-
mously; we have made some progress in European collaboration. And in those
almost 30 years, ESSSAT, the European Society for the Study of Science and
Theology, has learned to provide a platform where different facets of religion can be
presented and discussed in their relation to science and technology. Thanks, among
many others, to those who did the work, such as Karl Schmitz-Moormann, Jan
Fennema, Christoph Wassermann, Antje Jackelén and many others.
Appendix: European Conferences on Science and Religion

(1986,’88)/Theology
Key organizers/hosting Publications

Theme institution (editors, year)
1 1986 Loccum, The Argument Karl Schmitz-Moormann, Andersen and
Germany about Evolution Hans May, Meinfried Peacocke
and Creation Striegnitz/Evangelische (1987)
Akademie Loccum
2 1988 Enschede, One World – Jan Fennema/Twente Fennema and
the Changing University Paul (1990a)
Netherlands Perspectives
on Reality
3 1990 Geneva, The Science and Christoph Wassermann, Wassermann
Switzerland Theology of Bernard Morel/ et al. (1992)
Information University of Geneva
4 1992 Rocca di Origins, Time George V. Coyne, Coyne et al.
Papa, Italy and Complexity S.J./Specola Vataicana (1994a, b)
5 1994 Freising & The Concept of Helmut Reich. Niels Gregersen et al.
Münich, Nature in Science H. Gregersen, Karl (1997, 1998)
Germany and Theology Schmitz-Moormann
6 1996 Krakow, The Interplay Michael Heller, Gregersen et al.
Poland between Scientific Zbigniew Liana/ (1999a, b)
and Theological Pontifical Academy
Worldviews of Theology Krakow
7 1998 Durham, The Person: Chris Wiltsher, Michael Gregersen et al.
UK Perspectives Parsons/Science and (2000a, b)
from Science Religion Forum &
and Theology Durham University
(continued)
226 W.B. Drees
Key organizers/hosting Publications

Theme institution (editors, year)
8 2000 Lyon, Design and Bernard Michollet/ Gregersen and
France Disorder: Catholic University Görman (2002)
Perspectives of Lyon and Gregersen
from Science et al. (2002)
and Theology
9 2002 Nijmegen, Creating Palmyre M.F. Oomen, Görman et al.
Netherlands TechnoSapiens? Wil Derkse/Radboud (2004, 2005)
Values and University
Ethical Issues
in Theology,
Science and
Technology
10 2004 Barcelona, Streams of Manuel Doncel, Llorence Meisinger et al.
Spain Wisdom? Science, Puig/University Ramon (2005, 2006)
Theology and Llull & Universidad and Baró and
Cultural Autónoma de Barcelona Doncel (2008)
Dynamics.
11 2006 Iaşi, Sustaining Iulian Rusu, Technical Drees et al.
Romania Diversity: Science, University Gheorghe (2007, 2008)
Theology and the Asachi; Gheorghe
Futures of Creation Petraru, Alexander Ioan
Cuza University, Iaşi
12 2008 Sigtuna, How Do We Know? Ulf Görman, Eva-Lotta Evers et al.
Sweden Understanding in Grantén, Lund (2010a, b)
Science and University /Sigtuna
Theology Stiftelsen
13 2010 Edinburgh, Is Religion Neil and Allison Spurway Evers et al.
UK Natural? (Glasgow University)/ (2012a, b)
Science and Religion
Forum & Edinburgh
University
14 2012 Tartu, What Is Life? Anne Kull, Roland Karo, Evers et al.
Estonia Meelis Friedenthal/ (2014); PM
University of Tartu
15 2014 Assisi, Do Emotions Lluis Oviedo/
Italy Shape the World? Antonianum, Rome
Perspectives from
Science and
Theology
16 2016 Łódź- Are We Gregorz Bugajak and
Warszaw, Special? Science others
Poland and Theology
Questioning
Human Uniqueness
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Chapter 18
What Liberates and Limits a Bishop
and an Archbishop in Church of Sweden?
Anders Wejryd
Abstract At the WCC assembly in Porto Alegre 2006 I spoke on a seminar on

sexual rights. I said what I wanted to say but was afterwards receiving comments
like “how daring”, “what will your church board or general synod say” etc. I real-
ized then that I hadn’t even thought about that. Bishops of Church of Sweden enjoy
a considerable freedom. Church of Sweden (CoS), in which Antje Jackelén has been
a bishop since 2007 and Archbishop since this last summer, has a very different
background than Churches in the U.S. One could say that the church built the state
about 1 000 years ago and the church was the agent for education, health and wel-
fare for centuries. In education it lasted into the twentieth century. Among what has
lasted for the bishops, despite the gradual and rather definite division of church and
state in 2000, is a public position. One could think that the bishops in at state church
and a post-state church would have been supporters of the present politics or stern
opponents to the modernization of society and that being the reason for being pub-
lic. Not so, at least not for the last 60 years.
I will go somewhat deeper into examples of this and then look at structures that
liberate and limit the freedom of bishops – and looking at personal characteristics
which might have sought for when searching for bishops in CoS. When disestab-
lishment of the church took place from around 1980 up until 2000 several structures
had to be set up that were supposed to secure the democratic structure of the
church – but at the same time leave freedom for those serving as deacons, priests
and bishops, to be true to a reasonably personal interpretation of the vows they had
given when ordained/consecrated. So what are the limits and what structural and
traditional factors may have formed this fairly wide frame? Could any of these be of
interest for churches in different contexts?
Keywords Church of Sweden • Church governance • Bishops • Episcopacy and

democracy • Bishop’s backgrounds
A. Wejryd (*)
World Council of Churches-President for Europe, Uppsala, Sweden
e-mail: anders.wejryd@svenskakyrkan.se

232 A. Wejryd
At the World Council of Churches Ninth Assembly in Porto Alegre 2006 I was
asked to give an address at a seminar on sexual rights. I said what I wanted to say
(not very sensational) but was afterwards receiving comments like “how daring”,
“what will your church board or General Synod say” etc. I realized that I had not
even thought about that. Bishops of Church of Sweden enjoy a considerable
freedom.
Church of Sweden, in which Antje Jackelén has been a bishop since 2007 and
Archbishop and Primate since last summer, has a very different background from
churches in the U.S. One could say that the church built and formed the state about
1000 years ago and the church was the main agent for education, health and welfare
for centuries as well as the carrier of a public ethos. That means she does now live
and work in a very different surrounding, than the one she was in when teaching in
Chicago.
Within the educational system the central and responsible role of the church
lasted well into the twentieth century. During the twentieth century secularization of
the state and disestablishment of the church were far-reaching. Among what is still
there for the bishops, despite the gradual and rather definite division of church and
state in 2000, is a strong public position. One could think that the bishops in at state-
church and a post-state-church would have been supporters of the present politics or
stern opponents to the modernization of society and that being the reason for appear-
ing in public on public and general issues. Not so, at least not for the last 60 years,
the period of an outgoing formal state-church and thereafter.
I will go somewhat deeper into examples of this and then look at structures that
liberate and limit the freedom of bishops. Finally I will look at personal character-
istics which might have been looked for when searching for bishops in Church of
Sweden. I do all of this with some underlying doubts about the possible interest any
other church could have in the Swedish deliberations and situation.
When the process of disestablishment of the church, the final division of church
and state, took place from around 1980 up until 2000, several structures had to be
set up, that were supposed to secure the democratic structure of the church. At the
same time this church could not only be governed on all issues by its members, as
the church defines itself as bound to a certain confession. Who were to be guardians
of that? And how were the deacons, priests and bishops to have for traditional, rea-
sonably personal and conscience-based interpretations of the vows for life they
which had given when ordained/consecrated?
A Brief History Until the Early Twentieth Century
The Roman-catholic church made the existence of Sweden possible in medieval

times. Only the church had the resources of education, administration and law. Only
the church could crown the king or queen to give them legitimacy in wider Europe.
The continental oppositions within that church led to the fifteenth and sixteenth
century reform movements, which deeply affected the Nordic churches. Lutheranism
18 What Liberates and Limits a Bishop and an Archbishop in Church of Sweden? 233
provided a useful tool for the effective and ruthless Swedish nation builder Gustav
I (often Gustav Vasa). He belonged to the same generation as the English ruler
Henry VIII. The nation state could cut links and become “independent” – also of
some highly humane limitations, which had been carried on from Greece and Rome
through the undivided church.
During the seventeenth century a very monolithic society under autocratic kings
developed. There were ambitions of different actors to build a new Israel, with the
same imagined unity between the people and faith as in Israel of the Old Testament
time! Not only climatic conditions made this a cold project. When humane tradi-
tions, which through the old church had influenced Swedish law-making, were
regarded as un-biblical, Sweden instituted laws based on the laws of Moses.
Sometimes they were even stiffer than in the Hebrew Bible, perhaps in order to
build a “better” Israel. It has been said that this was a full-scale European experi-
ment of something like sharia-law. The seventeenth century king Gustav II Adolf
(often Gustavus Adolphus) played a major role on the Protestant side during the
early years of the devastating European war 1618–1648. He wrote in a letter to his
chancellor Axel Oxenstierna: “The majesty [of the country] and God’s church
which rests therein.” With other words, church and state were surely not far from
each other and freedom of the church was limited.
At this time Sweden was a regional power but in the eighteenth century in rapid
decline. This challenged the ideas of chosenness from the former century. Pietistic
movements also gave new perspectives to the role of faith and nation.
However, the church was the local community and thus represented law and
order – and hopefully some gospel too, but that is often forgotten in history. Forming
and governing much of the local community, the church was constantly very present
in everyone’s life. It was a powerful and influential position but also a position that
created opposition as centuries went on. And, it should be said already here, despite
the fact that this power now has been gone for a long time, still does create
opposition!
Industrialization came late to Sweden. While the mostly Anglo-American influ-
enced free-churches often were present in the industrialized areas, the established
church was overwhelmingly linked to the old rural society, and supported by people
skeptic to democratic change. Antje Jackelén was received as Archbishop and
Primate in June 2014. One hundred years before that, in spring 1914, the king,
backed by conservative groups and farmers from all over the land, stepped in and
gave a blow to the emerging parliamentarian system and to the liberal prime minis-
ter who resigned. The established church largely stood behind the king. The liberals
and the Social Democrats were shaken but workers came out in huge demonstra-
tions to support the parliamentarian system. Balanced politicians saw the risks of a
deep division in society.
That same spring the process of electing a new Archbishop and Primate of
Church of Sweden had begun. Two well established bishops, both actively backing
the king, received a majority of the votes from the church. Nearly all of the voters
were priests and bishops. There had to be three candidates for the King or the gov-
ernment to choose between, according to the law. The third candidate who came up
234 A. Wejryd
just barely made it. The backing he got was weak indeed. He was a professor of
Uppsala and Leipzig, Germany. His chair was in the History of Religion and he had
his doctorate from Paris, France. For that time he was a remarkably international
figure, also having Anglo-American experiences. He was widely seen as a liberal
theologian but also as a somewhat romantic historian. The opponents had troubles
to define him. The name of this third candidate was Nathan Söderblom.
He was appointed by the government despite of the weak support from the clergy.
It seems as if influential members of the government, among them the conservative
Prime Minister Hjalmar Hammarskjöld, the father of the late Secretary General of
the U.N., Dag Hammarskjöld, saw his appointment as a necessary move not to fur-
ther polarize the public opinion between left and right. This was an abuse to the
church by the state, according to many. But it is also possible to see it as a blessing
in disguise.
Shock-waves were running high. The senior bishop in office, the bishop of Lund,
tried to calm down the situation and wrote to his colleagues, that despite the surprise
we do now have to support the new Archbishop. One of the two main candidates
answered: “You cannot support a balloon.”
Through the decision to appoint Nathan Söderblom, however, the state perhaps
saved the church from marginalization. Until his death in 1931 Söderblom became
a very central person in all of Swedish public life, being part of the cultural debate,
active on issues of peace, justice and poverty but never taken captive by any political
party – but with weak support from nearly all of his fellow bishops.
Nathan Söderblom’s ecumenical legacy is important for Church of Sweden. He
wanted the historic see of Uppsala to become something en par with Constantinople,
Rome and Canterbury. Realists smiled. He saw the danger of narrow nationalism
limiting many protestant, especially Lutheran churches. He saw the vitality of the
revival movements in his diocese and in all Sweden and probably had fewer prob-
lems than anyone else discovering what potentially could unite instead of divide.
From the time of Nathan Söderblom the ecumenical movement has carried strong
support from Sweden and it still does. The Lutheran World Federation was formed
in Lund in southern Sweden in 1947, and Church of Sweden is an active member
ever since, although the World Council of Churches is expressively seen as our pri-
mary ecumenical tool. Church of Sweden has since Söderblom, be it true or false,
seen itself as a bridging church between different historical and theological tradi-
tions. From Vaticanum Secundum the contacts between Rome and Uppsala have
become remarkably frequent and close, despite many of the liberal decisions on
women’s ordination, homosexual relations etc taken by Church of Sweden.
Freedom of Religion and a State-Church
During the period of Söderblom the percentage of Swedes belonging to Methodist,

Baptist and Mission-Covenant traditions peaked, but the total was still just in the
one-digit sector. Some decades later the Pentecostals of Sweden peaked, although
with less than 1.5 % of the population. If you wanted to leave the state-church you
were allowed to do so, since the nineteenth century, but then you had to join another
religious community recognized by the state. A Swedish Prime Minister for the
Social Democrats had left the state-church, pretending that he was going to join the
Methodists, but never did. That made him a secret pioneer for religious freedom.
Obviously these things were not closely checked and maybe his move was helped
by the fact that he and the prince who later became king (Gustaf V) simultaneously
had attended the same small private primary school. Antje Jackelén has indeed
come back to a small country!
The law was obviously porous but still it was law. The bishops argued for change
but nothing happened. Surprisingly to some, they wanted more religious freedom,
within the state-church framework, because they wanted the church to be more of a
church and less of an official institution. The Social Democrats became more inter-
ested in influencing the church than distancing themselves from it by a quick sepa-
ration between church and state. Thus the commitment for freedom of religion
rested with the Liberals and the Free Church people. It was not until in 1951, when
the period of a large national consensus during the Second World War had ended,
that the freedom of religion became more fully granted. Also after that year and for
almost half a century, children of members of Church of Sweden were automati-
cally taken in as members, already before baptism. The idea behind this was that
this is part of the family identity but it was also part of the national identity.
Membership was “normality”.
The local government in Sweden was modeled on how the congregations were
governed, and in the rural areas the congregation and the local government was the
same thing until 1862. This fact implied that the priest got heavily involved in soci-
etal affairs, mostly as chairman. Up until 1866 the clergy constituted one of the four
houses of parliament. Bishops and priests played a political role, also on the national
level, and mainly as a conservative force. During the first half of the twentieth cen-
tury local congregations were thoroughly democratized. The system largely was
modeled on the local government which in turn had been modeled on the congrega-
tions before. Through the party-politicization of Swedish society the political par-
ties this way also moved into local church boards. Even if the democratic structures
of the local congregation were supposed only to handle resources and not to infringe
on the pastoral leadership and priorities, conflicts emerged and challenged the iden-
tity of the church, of the clergy and of the bishops.
Maybe one could say that the democratic development marginalized those bish-
ops who did not want to be free players on the public arena or on the arena of active
believers, who for different reasons did not involve in church politics. Söderblom
had shown that it was possible for him to be present on both these arenas. There are
several other examples. Two other ones are the more conservative bishop Bo Giertz,
also a widely respected novel writer, and the more progressive bishop Krister
Stendahl, known to many American theologians as a long-time dean of Harvard
Divinity School. These bishops definitely meant very much to the general public
and to believers with at critical distance to the church-organization. Perhaps they
were, in retrospect, less influential to the practical leadership of Church of Sweden.
236 A. Wejryd
The issue of a disestablishment of Church of Sweden did not come to rest. During
the second half of the twentieth century it became natural for more and more people
to see a difference between state and society. A disestablishment of Church of
Sweden could perhaps make the church more visible and present in society and
break up the conflict between a state-church system and the ambitions to have real
freedom of religion?
Proponents for a change were clergy, both with a more high-church and a more
pietistic profile, but also, as already has been mentioned, liberals and free-church
people. The left-wing of the Social Democrats and other leftists were also arguing
for a radical reform. They echoed the view from both the Enlightenment and from
pietistic movements that religion is a private issue. Many who feared the breakup of
a historical continuity and a loss of basic values and orientation in society were
against a division. They were to be found both inside and outside the group of active
congregational members in Church of Sweden. Many also feared that conservative
groups were to take over the church. Despite the low church-attendance, which was
low already in the twenties, the ties and the loyalty were strong; surprisingly strong,
according to many. In fact, this is still the case.
After decades of discussions the decision which put an end to the state-church
system was taken in the 1990s. Before that, a member-governed organization had
been put in place on the diocesan and the national levels of the church. Since then
there is a one-member – one-vote system with direct election to all three levels of
the church. Baptism became the basis for membership in 1996. Today membership
always involves an active decision by the individual or the parents. When the
reforms were in place, the state finally dared to let go of the church.
These reforms put issues about “the role and nature” of bishops rather high on
the agenda. The episcopal structure of Church of Sweden is often underlined, both
by lay or clergy, but what does that really mean? I will come back to that in the next
section.
The church Antje Jackelén now leads was not financed by the state even when it
was a state-church. It had its funding based on a church tax levied only on the mem-
bers. This fact made the division of church and state simpler than would otherwise
had been the case. The membership is now just below two thirds of the population,
which is a surprisingly high figure considering the number of immigrants with dif-
ferent religious background now living in Sweden. Church of Sweden is diminish-
ing, mainly because a very high percentage of those who die were members, while
the percentage of baptized infants today is about 50 %, but also through active deci-
sions of members to leave the church, normally between 0.5 and 1 % of the mem-
bers per year. The predictions 20 years ago suggested larger losses.
While the relationship between church and state was discussed, the popular
interest was focused on other things. In Sweden some newspapers still have a large
circulation and influence on the public opinion and the majority of the people still
follows radio and television public service and seems to be more influenced by their
choices of focus more than by social media. In fact Church of Sweden communi-
cates with a majority of its members through public media, rather than through the
weak attendance in the congregations. This of course puts the bishops and especially
the Archbishop in a very special position. They, rather than the democratic institu-
tions of Church of Sweden, were and are the ones whose words counted on issues
of family and sexuality, women’s ordination, religious education in public schools,
mission and development in the global south and other items brought up by the
media.
Until the 1980s the General Synod of the church was hardly involved in these
debates. Before that time no central board of Church of Sweden even existed. The
bishops’ conference was an important but informal meeting point, often being the
only heard voice from the church, but for long periods it was quite clear that bishops
did not conform too much to each other, but spoke up and spoke out from quite
personal positions.
Church of Sweden has 13 dioceses, but in some respects it would be better to say
that the church is made up by 13 dioceses. The freedom of dioceses has been and is
considerable. The central authority was weak and only executed by the state in the
state-church time. It is limited also today and the national level is not seen as a pas-
toral level of the church but only as a level where issues in common are handled and
the structure of the church is decided upon. The Archbishop was and still is just
primus inter pares.
This background and tradition surely liberated bishops. They were expected to
act and speak out of their convictions. As the church did not really have decision
making bodies of its own, apart from the local level, the power over Church of
Sweden was both nowhere and everywhere. This made room for voluntary and pro-
visional groups and for many informal leaders.
Disestablishment
When the decisions on disestablishment of Church of Sweden were taken in the

1990s a democratic organization of Church of Sweden was, as mentioned before, in
place since the 1980s. How dogmatic and other theological issues were to be dealt
with, needed further discussion, as did the role of the bishops in the governing bod-
ies and also how bishops were to be elected.
The bishops had lost their position as voting members of the General Synod
already in the 1980s. The decision was constantly challenged. What is a bishop if he
or she does not vote in the decision making bodies? That was the recurring question.
Is the bishop only a ceremonial and cultic figure and some free-wheeler in the pub-
lic sphere?
On the other hand the bishops had become voting moderators in their diocesan
boards in the 1980s and those become more resourceful and powerful with the dis-
establishment. Also the Archbishop had become the moderator of the national board
of the church. These changes strengthened of the bishops’ formal positions.
The issue about the role of the bishops in the General Synod and how dogmatic
issues were to be decided upon with the weak presence of them in the Synod did not
come to a close until only a few years ago. The bishops are now given a de facto veto
238 A. Wejryd
on dogmatic decisions if there is a majority for that in the bishops’ conference.

Although they still cannot vote in the General Synod, their activity there is consider-
able and is generally seen as very constructive. Their role in the committees where
all issues are prepared is central and also their role as bridge builders. And this way
they do not risk becoming a small “Bishops’ party” with the risk of losing their
cases and weakening their possibility to lead a church which might sometimes take
decisions in conflict with the bishops.
Perhaps one could say that the bishops proved to have more legitimacy in the
public sphere than what the elected members of the church had in general. When
this tension became manifest it also became important for the General Synod to
settle to issue.
Another sensitive issue was the election of bishops. Who was to be given the
right to make the final decision? Naturally it could not be the government as it was
before the disestablishment. Should there be a vote and then a choice between the
main candidates by the national church board or by the Bishops’ conference or by
some combination of these? The General Synod decided on a construction that is
cumbersome but which strengthens the independence of the bishop. He or she is
elected by a large constituency. All clergy (deacons and priests) serving in the dio-
cese and the same number of lay, elected locally, vote. A series of elections take
place until someone has got more than 50 % of the votes. It usually takes three
rounds. Antje Jackelén was elected both bishop and Archbishop already after two
rounds. So strong was her position.
The election system gives freedom to the bishop, who is not tied up to any spe-
cific group. The group that elected the bishop will never convene again and the way
it is composed it is made clear that the bishop relates to the whole church and not
only to the ordained. Of course there are risks with such a huge group voting. You
cannot talk very confidentially and untrue rumors can spread – or important warning
signals may remain uncommunicated. However, it is the general opinion that the
system has strengthened the position of the elected bishops.
Background and Relative Independence
During the twentieth century a majority of the bishops had a background as aca-
demic teachers, many of them having been professors at the theological faculties of
Uppsala or Lund. Only very few did not hold a PhD in theology. That solid back-
ground provided status. To that was added the tradition of Swedish senior civil ser-
vants, who used to have quite an independent position in relation to decision-makers.
This taken together provided space and freedom.
However, they were seldom chosen because of their interest in or experience of
leading large and changing organizations. The rapid change of Swedish society
after the Second World War and growing resources given to the dioceses from the
eighties and onward, called upon the bishops to be leaders and agents of change,
who could relate both to society at large and to the active members and clergy of the
church. Therefore other backgrounds and experiences came more into focus. Priests
who had made themselves more widely known in public life, often through church-
related diaconal, humanitarian or mission organizations, were elected from the last
third of the twentieth century. Many of them had good theological credentials but
fewer were university professors.
Few bishops in Church of Sweden have come directly from parish work, although
there are some exceptions.
There has not been any obvious career track leading to a bishop’s chair, there
simply has been competition for the positions. Priests have been ready to stand as
candidates, even though you are not supposed to say that and plan for that according
to Swedish tradition. Despite all of this the positions obviously have been
attractive.
The fact that the office of bishop in Church of Sweden always has been a lifelong
appointment, also when a retirement age was established in the 1930s, has strength-
ened the position of the bishop. When there is no re-election the bishop does not
have to play for the bleachers. This has added freedom – but it has also made the
bishop act in order so as to remain effectively in office for a long time.
Many of the main-line churches have lived with the fact that their active mem-
bers were more conservative in politics than the average citizen. However, for some
decades the situation seems to be the opposite in many of these churches. On issues
about immigration, arms trade, national minorities and indigenous people, ecologi-
cal and climate justice, sexual rights, social justice, freedom of religion, also for
other religions, and in many other areas, these churches often come out as fairly
radical. “Does the church always have to be leftist?” is a question that has been
heard many times in Sweden over the last years.
In This Church
In this church Antje Jackelén is now the Archbishop and Primate. By tradition the
position, as I have tried to show, leaves a lot to the incumbent. All bishops have the
freedom to choose their primary issues and to find public platforms for themselves.
When a bishop has something of interest to say, many forums open up for her or
him.
Of course, bishops do not rule over media. Some of our themes are not easily
communicated there: Grace, Faith, Freedom, Love, Mystery and Long-term think-
ing might easily get lost. As a consequence the bishop may come out as more secu-
larized or fundamentalist than he or she actually is. The standpoints on secular and
moral issues may come through, but not the Christian setting of grace and love.
Archbishop Antje Jackelén can be said to have made a virtue out of this necessity
and is for example very visible on twitter, where she can express herself
uncensored.
Some of the old freedom for bishops was perhaps linked to their limited actual
power. Bishops have gained some power now, not least as voting moderators of
240 A. Wejryd
important decision-making church bodies. In some ways this has limited their
freedom.
However, all other voting members are elected for a limited period of time. The
bishop is entrusted to be a long-distance runner and to remain there, also as a mod-
erator, with and through different majorities. Bishops with integrity, Fingerspitzgefühl
and patience have been able to succeed by bringing different groups together to find
long-term goals that will serve the church well. With the present role of the bishop
this is a most important task.
Finally: The “cultic” and symbolic role of the bishop is strong in many churches.
This is indeed the case also in Sweden. By limiting ourselves into the role of this
office, some of us have been liberated to much more than what we ever were
ourselves.
Anders Wejryd was born in Sweden 1948. He completed his theological education at Uppsala
University, specialized in Philosophy of Religion and World Christianity. Anders was ordained in
1972, served as parish priest for fifteen years, then leader of the University College at Ersta
Stockholm and CEO of the public hospital there. He was Bishop of Växjö in 1995–2006 and
Archbishop of Church of Sweden (Uppsala) 2006–2014. Anders has been involved for many years
in the Lutheran World Federation and the World Council of Churches (now President for Europe).
He has been involved in issues of justice and sustainability since the seventies and holds a PhD h.c.
from the faculty of natural resources at the agricultural/veterinarian university of Sweden, SLU. He
has authored many articles and some books in the theological and ecological fields.
Index
A Atemporal, 28, 34
Absolute rationality, 135 Atomium, 215, 216, 219
Abuses of power, 94 Attribution of religious significance, 140–141
Acceleration of time, 46 Augustine, 28, 46, 55, 73, 214
Achtner, W., 55 Auschwitz, 213, 216
Action, 61, 63–64, 66, 139 Autonomy, 66
Agency, 140, 141 Ayala, F., 193
Agency detection system, 141
Agent, 139, 141
Alexander, C., 180 B
Alexander, K., 183 Bachelard, G., 179
Al-Khwārizmī, Muḥammad ibn Mūsā, 86 Bacon, F., 185
Alterity, 132, 134, 136, 144 Barbour, I., 175
Amaldi, U., 221 Barrett, J.L., 141
Analogies, 137 Barth, K., 4, 6, 8, 9, 76, 212, 214
Analytic, 158 Barzun, J., 84
Ancestor spirit, 140, 141 Baudelaire, C., 84
Andersen, S., 215, 217–219 Bauman, Z., 51
Angelou, M., 86 Beckel, W., 221
Angels, 140 Becoming, 53
Anthropic principle, 20 Behaviorism, 138
Anthropocene, 110, 115 Being, 53, 141
Anthropogenic climate change, 111 Beliefs, 137–141, 143
Anthropology, 142, 176 Bellah, R., 157
Anxiety, 3 Benjamin, W., 23
Apocalypses, 71 Benz, A., 50
Apocalyptic, 71 Bergmann, 182
Apparatus of human cognition, 139 Berleant, 182
Applied ethics, 65 Big Bang, 166, 167, 170
Aquinas, T., 8, 214 Big data, 120–126
Architectonics of the mind, 141 Binarism, 22
Aristotle, 214 Biological existence, 192
Art, 153 Biological inheritance, 193
Artigas, M., 221 2014 Bishops’ Letter, 116

for the Study of Science and Theology 2, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-23944-6
242 Index
Blending, 151 Confidentiality, 122

Blind-spot, 142 Conflict, 134, 136
Body, 106 Consent, 123, 124, 126
Boethius, 8, 34 Consequences, 63, 64
Bohannon, R., 184 Consistent eschatology, 14
Bohr, N., 204, 208 Constraints, 139
Bonhoeffer, D., 82, 86, 87 Constructive postmodernism, 84
Bracken, J., 166 Consummation, 4, 5
Brady, E., 183 Contemporaneity, 50, 51
Brooke, J.H., 181 Context, 11
Brundlandt, 71 Contextual theology, 72
Buber, M., 217 Conway, A., 28
Burhoe, R., 216 Copernicus, 204
Butterfly effect, 170 Cosmic time, 46
Bylaws, 218, 219, 221, 222, 224 Cosmologists, 9
Cosmology, 9–10
Cosmos, 11
C Council of Basel, 202
Cacciopo, J., 169 Creation, 11, 72, 179
Cantor, G., 203 Creator, 136
CERN, 221 Critical, 143
Chance, 52 assessment, 142
Chaos, 94, 103, 107 modernism, 84
Chaotic systems, 170 modernist, 85, 87
Chaucer, G., 207 space, 144
Chomsky, 150, 194 Criticism, 132, 137, 142
Chōra, 24 Critique, 142
Choratic, 73 The Cross, 143
Christ, 177 Cross-cultural, 142
Christian theology, 143 Crossing over (Verschränkung), 54
Christology, 76 CSR. See Cognitive science of religion (CSR)
Chronos, 17, 24 Cultural contents, 139
Church of Sweden, 232, 234–237, 239 Cultural ethnicity, 82
Ciobotea, D., 224 Cultural evolution, 138
Clark, A., 148 Cultural heredity, 193
Climate change, 111–113, 116 Cultural inheritance, 193
Cognition, 138, 149 Cultural trauma, 94, 95
Cognitive architectonics, 139, 141 Cultural traumatization, 104
Cognitive devices, 141 Culture, 149
Cognitive machinery, 139 Cumulative transmission, 193
Cognitive science, 138, 141 Cusanus, N., 202–204, 208
Cognitive science of religion (CSR), 132,
137–141, 143
Cognitive scientists of religion, 142 D
Cognitive studies, 148 Dalferth, I., 9
Cognitive system, 139–141 Dance, 55
Coincidentia oppositorum, 203 Dancing, 51
Communion, 192 Darwin, C., 193
Complementarity, 207, 208 Data scientist, 121, 123, 125, 126
Complex, 170 Davies, P., 170
Complexification, 170 de Certeau, M., 73
Complexity, 104 De docta ignorantia, 203
Conciliar, 202 de Knijff, H., 216
Index 243
Deacon, T., 148 Empathy, 94, 97–99

Deane-Drummond, C., 184 Energy, 167, 172
Death, 51 Epidemiology of ideas, 141
Default intuitive expectations, 141 Epistemic inter-space, 137
Deidentification, 122 Epistemology, 176
Deism, 8 Erasmus, 217
Deities, 141 Eschatological, 9, 11
Democratic structure of the church, 232 Eschatology, 4, 9–10, 53, 71, 73, 137
Demons, 140 Eschaton, 16
Dennett, D., 148 ESSSAT, 212, 219, 221, 223, 225
Design, 141 Eternal, 28, 172
Destiny, 140 Eternity, 4, 6, 8–10, 17, 28, 29, 46
Determination, 5 Eternity as the other of time, 51
Deterministic, 170 Ethical theory, 59, 64
Deus ex machina, 17 Ethics, 153
Device in the mind, 141 Europe, 212, 213, 215
Dialogical space, 143 European Union, 111
Dialogue, 135–137, 142, 144 Europic principle, 20
Dialogue between science and theology, 51 Eutonia, 132, 133, 136, 137, 142–144
Dialogue between theology and the natural Evers, D., 214, 225
sciences, 132 Evolution, 140, 192, 194, 196–197
Dilemma, 62, 63, 65 Evolutionary developmental biology, 180
Disestablishment of the church, 232 Ex nihilo, 29
Dissociation, 98 Experiential-hermeneutical
Dissonance, 10 models of God, 136
Distributed cognition, 149 Experimental limitations, 142
Diversity, 82, 83, 85–88 Experimental-theoretical models of reality, 136
Divine mystery, 137, 144 Explicit notions of God, 141
Divinity, 142 External forms, 142
DNA, 193 External forms of religious beliefs, 142
Donald, M., 148
Dorsal vagal complex, 98, 99
Dostoyevsky, F., 198 F
Drees, W., 222 False dichotomy, 143
Duration, 3, 8–9 Family resemblance construct, 138
Fantastical, 19
Fascinans et tremendum, 15
E Fauconnier, G., 148
Eagleton, T., 82 Feeling of absolute dependence, 138
Eastern Europe, 217 Feminism, 94, 101
Eastern Orthodox Church, 195 Fennema, J., 212, 216–220, 225
Ego State Therapy, 99 Ferré, F., 221
Einstein, A., 33, 71, 205 FEST, 213, 215
Eisenstein, E., 22 Feynman, R., 46
Ekstrom, L.W., 66 Fodor, J., 149
Election of bishops, 238 Fortune, 141
Eliade, M., 138, 156 Foucault, M., 20
Ellis, G., 178 Fraud, 135
Embodied, 100, 106 Freedom, 5
Emergence, 170, 171 of bishops, 232
Emerson, R.W., 185 of religion, 234–237
Emotions, 157 Fulfillment, 4
Empathic, 106 Future, 53
244 Index
G The Human mind, 135

Garre, A., 214 Human nature, 153
Gaskell, 182 Humour, 153
Geissler, K., 46 Husserl, O., 17
Geißler, K.A., 49 Hutchins, E., 148
General cognitive apparatus, 139 Hymn-books, 48
General system for the representation Hymns, 49
of action, 139 Hyperactive Agency Detection
Genetic relationship, 194 Device, 140
Geocentrism, 10
Ghost, 140, 141
Glodz, 222 I
God, 3, 8, 10–12, 53, 136, 137, 140, 141 Idolatry, 133
God of the gap, 14 Ignorance, 52
God’s perspective, 135 Imago Dei, 11
Görman, U., 221, 223, 224 Immanental divine revelation, 143
Goshen Conference, 84 Immensity of reality, 137
Goshen lectures, 94 In-between dialogical space, 143
Graham, G., 181 Incarnation, 11
Grantén, E.-L., 223 Inequality of power, 136
Gregorian calendar, 204 Inferential potential, 141
Griffin, J., 182 Infinity, 203
Gronemeyer, M., 49 Inscription, 23
Interacted, 167
Interaction, 166, 168–170, 172
H Interactive, 171, 173
Haikola, L., 221 Interdisciplinary strategy, 137
Haraway, D., 22 Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change
Harmonizing, 134, 135 Report 2014, 110
Haught, J., 170, 173 Interlacing, 176
Healthy dialogue, 136 Internal Family Systems, 99
Healthy epistemic tension, 144 Internal multiplicity, 105
Healthy tension, 133, 137, 144 Internet, 124
Hefner, P., 223 Inter-relationality, 143
Heimat, 72 Inter-religious, 142
Heintel, P., 47 IRAS, 215, 216, 218, 221
Heller, M., 217–219 Irrational, 14
Helm, P., 28
Hermeneutics, 94, 96, 125, 137
Hippocratic Oath, 126 J
Historical realities, 143 Jackelén, A., 4–6, 9–12, 14, 47, 72, 82,
History, 176 83, 85, 94, 103, 107, 171, 172,
Hobbes, 21 212, 221, 223–225, 232, 233, 235,
Holy, 14 236, 238, 239
Holy Spirit, 11, 177 Jeanrond, W., 223
Home, 78 Jenson, R., 6
Homo accelerandus, 49 Jesus of Nazareth’s, 143
Hong, E., 89 Jins, 140
Hong, H.V., 89 John Paul II, 222
Hope, 50 Johnsen, E., 178
Howe, G., 213 Johnson, E., 103
Hubbeling, H., 215 Jüngel, E., 6
Hübner, J., 213, 215, 216 Justice, 143
Index 245
K McConnell, S., 105

Kairos, 24 McGrath, A., 184
Kant, I., 183, 213 MCI. See Minimally counterintuitive
Kanzi, 194 idea (MCI)
Karma, 140 Meanings, 139, 142, 159
Keller, C., 103 Meisinger, 224
Kemal, S., 182 Mental architectonics, 140
Kierkegaard, S., 82, 88, 216 Mental representations, 138
King, M.L., 82 Mental structures, 139
Kingdom of God, 4 Metaphors, 151–152
Koinonia, 86 Milky Way, 11
Kretzmann, N., 34 Mind, 138–140, 149
Kunz, S., 55 Minimally counterintuitive idea (MCI), 141
Kyoto, 111 Miracle, 10
Mirror of external reality, 140
Misfortune, 141
L Models, 137
L’avenir, 53 Modularity, 140, 141
LaCugna, C.M., 6, 7 Moltmann, J., 4–6, 72, 74, 173
Lakoff, G., 148 Moormann, K.S., 215
Language of time and eternity, 49 Morality, 141, 142
Languages, 150, 194 Morally interested, 141
Lash, N., 52 Morel, B., 219
Latour, B., 21, 110, 115 Morowitz, H., 170
Lawson, E.T., 139 Mortensen, V., 48, 216, 218, 219
Learned Ignorance, 203 Mothershill, 183
Ledley, F.D., 183 Müller, A.M.K., 54
Legislation, 120, 126 Multiplicity, 94, 99, 103
Lemeni, A., 224 Music, 55
Levinas, E., 51 The mystery of ourselves, 144
Liedke, G., 55 Mystical, 19
Limits of science, 137 Myths, 155
Lived time, 55
Llull, R., 202
Løgstrup, K.E., 48 N
Love, 143 Nagel, T., 32, 60, 172
Luhmann, N., 158 Narrated time, 137
Lutheran, 83 Narrative, 17, 82, 97, 137, 139, 143
Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, 223 Natural kind category, 138
Lutheranism, 82 Natural selection, 140
Lynas, M., 115 Neidhart, W.J., 221
Lyotard, J.-F., 85 Neuroscience, 138
New creation, 4, 9
Newness, 50
M Newton, 55
Magic, 155 Newtonian, 71
Manenschijn, G., 216 Newtonian physics, 32
Marriage between Science and Religion, 136 Nicholas of Cusa, 202
Materiality, 144 Nietzsche, 103, 105
Matrix, 55 Nominalist, 213
Max Planck, 21 Non-rational, 15
May, H., 215–217 Non-reductionism, 177
McCauley, R.N., 139 Norenzayan, A., 137
246 Index
North American Lutheran, 86 Pluralism, 134

North American Lutheranism, 83 Poetic, 82
Novum, 17 Poiesis, 83, 90
Numenon, 15 Polkinghorne, 175, 214
Numinous, 15 Pope Eugenius IV, 202
The numinous, 138 Posited agent, 141
Postcolonialism, 90
Postmodernism, 94
O Postmodernity, 104, 106
Ontological assumptions, 142 Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), 94, 98
Ontology, 4, 165 Power differential, 132
Oosterwegel, G., 216 Practices, 143
Other, 142 Pragmatism, 177
Otherness, 132, 134 Praxis, 83
Otherworldliness, 192 Prayers, 142
Otto, R., 14, 138, 155 Predictability, 169
Outliers, 142 Presence, 24
Oviedo, L., 214 Primary trauma, 94
Primus inter pares, 237
Privacy, 122–124, 126
P Privilege, 105
Pannenberg, W., 4–7, 9 Proctor, J., 181
Parallel, 140 Prolepsis, 4, 11
Parsons, M., 218, 219, 222 Proleptic, 9, 11
Parsons, M.W.S., 221 Proleptic ontology, 4
Particle, 207 Prosopon, 192
Partner, 142 Psychoanalytical, 138
Party-politicization, 235 Psychology, 176
Pastoral leadership, 235 Punishment, 141
Path dependency, 113 Purpose, 141
Path dependent policy interventions, 112
Patrick, W., 169
Paul, I., 204, 221 Q
Peace, 143 Quantum mechanics, 206
Peacocke, A., 171, 212, 214–220 Quantum physics, 37, 170
Peer review process, 135 Quaternary, 114
Peirce, C., 176
Perceived agent, 141
Perception, 140 R
Perichoresis, 6 Race, 82
Person, 192, 197 Racism, 83
Personhood, 192, 193 Rahner, K., 6
Petraru, G., 224 Rahner’s Rule, 7
Phenomenal experience, 138 Ratio, 15
Phenomenological characterizations of Rational, 105
religions, 138 Ratschow, C.H., 50
Phenomenology, 177 Raum, 72
Phenomenon, 15 Real, 139
Philosophy of mind, 151 Real religious believers, 143
Philosophy of religion, 176 Realist, 213
Philosophy of science, 176 Reality, 135–137
Picht, G., 53, 73, 213 Redemption, 4
Pike, N., 28, 29 Reheis, F., 49
Plato, 214 Reich, H.K., 212, 221
Index 247
Relation, 53 Schleiermacher, F., 8, 138, 213

Relational, 99, 173 Schmitz-Moormann, K., 212, 215,
multiplicity, 99 217–222, 225
power, 101, 102, 105 Schmitz-Moormann’s wife
Relationality, 48, 87 Nicole, 217
Relationship, 50, 192 Schneider, L., 100
Relative understanding of rationality, 135 Schwan, A., 52
Relativity, 205 Schweitzer, A., 14
Religion, 137, 138, 142, 147, 217, Science, 135, 137, 143
220, 221 Science and religion,
and science, 96, 102, 104, 106, 131, 137, 217–219
132, 136 Science and theology,
and science dialogue, 134, 144 148, 219
Religious beliefs, 139–141 Scientific gaze, 143
Religious beliefs and practices, 137 Scientists, 137
Religious believers, 142 Scopenhauer, 183
Religious elites, 143 Searle, J., 171
Religious epistemology, 143 Second Vatican Council, 214
Religious experiences, 138, 143 Secondary trauma, 94
Religious phenomena, 139 Secular, 82
Religious practices, 141 Secularism, 142
Religious revelation, 143 Secularization of the state, 232
Religious rituals, 139 Selection, 149
Religious symbols, 139 Self-disclosure, 144
Religious tradition, 142 Self-evidence, 137
Remembrance, 143 Serial, 140
Representation, 19, 22, 140, 141 Sexual assault, 98
Representation of action, 139 Shakespeare, W., 46
Resilience, 99 Shared codes, 155
Resiliency, 94, 99 Sherry, P., 182
Ressourcement, 6 Shortcoming of the CSR, 142
Resurrection, 10 Silence, 196
Retroactive, 11 Simmons, E., 7
Retroactive ontology, 4, 5 Simultants, 50
Revelatory event, 143 Sittler, J., 82
Reward, 141 Sobosan, J.G., 185
Ricoeur, P., 54, 88 Social embeddedness, 136, 137
Rilke, R.M., 18 Social hierarchy, 139
Rittel, H.W.J., 111 Social interactions, 141
Ritual form, 139 Social networking, 157
Rituals, 143, 150 Söderblom, N., 234
Robertson, J., 221 Somatic, 94, 97, 105, 106
Rolston, 181 Somatic Internal Family
Rossing, B., 78 Systems, 105
Royce, J., 176 Somatic wisdom, 105
Russell, B., 10, 31 Space/place, 15, 72
Russell, R.J., 4, 7, 9, 10 Special epistemic locus, 143
Rusu, I., 224 Spielberg, S., 71
Rutherford, E., 204 Spirit, 72, 140
St. Augustine, 209
St. Paul, 209
S State-Church, 234–237
Sacks, J., 82 Stories of the world, 52
The Sacred, 138 Striegnitz, M., 215, 217
248 Index
Stroop effect, 140 Transformations, 140

Structures of creation, 136 Trauma, 94
Stump, E., 34 Trauma sensitive theology, 94, 97, 99, 100,
Successful gods, 141 102, 104, 106
Suffering, 196–198 Trigg, R., 221
Sui generis, 138, 139 Trinitarian model, 53
Super wicked problem, 111, 113 Truth, 16
Surplus of meaning, 133 Truth claims, 132, 139, 142
Survival, 157 Turks, O., 202
Swedish Lutheran Bishops, 115 Turner, M., 148
Symbolic complexity, 159
Symbolic species, 149, 161
Symbols, 143, 150 U
Symmetry, 207 Ugliness, 184
Sympathetic nervous system, 98 The Ultimate, 138
Synthesis, 134, 136 Ultra-mundane referent, 143
Synthetic, 158 Understanding, 137
Systems Theory, 158 Unexplainable, 141
Unique, 193
Uniqueness, 192
T United Nations, 111
Tatarkiewicz, W., 180 Unwarranted assumptions, 142
Taylor, M., 82
Teilhard de Chardin, P., 114, 177,
214, 216 V
Telos, 15 van der Kolk, B., 106
Temporal, 28 van Dijk, P., 215, 216
Tensions, 137 Ventral vagal complex, 98
Tertium datur, 19 Vernadsky, 114
Theism, 7 Vicarious trauma, 94
Theistic arguments, 16 Viladesau, R., 178
Theologians, 137 Violence, 95
Theological aesthetics, 177 Vision, 64
Theological cosmology, 177 von Weizsäcker, C.F., 214
Theology, 135–137, 143 Vulnerability, 95
and science, 136
of time, 52
Theoretical paradigm, 142 W
Theoria, 83 Walcott, D., 90
Theories, 134 Walter, 55
Theory of Mind, 141 Ware, K., 197, 198
Theory of Relativity, 34 Warfare model, 134
Thomson, J.J., 205 Wassermann, C., 212, 218, 219, 221,
Tillich, P., 73, 138 222, 225
Time, 6, 10, 15, 17, 46–47, 51, 59–61, Wave, 206
63–66, 137 Webber, 111
Time and eternity, 136, 144 Weinberg, S., 167
Timelessness, 8, 60–61 Weiss, J., 14
Tomasello, M., 148 Westhelle, V., 72
Topos, 24 Wholly Other, 133, 144
Torrance, T.F., 213, 221 Wilderness, 184
Transcendence, 143, 158 Wiltsher, C., 221, 224
Transcendental core, 138 Women, 216
Index 249
Worsworth, 183 Z
Wright, N.T., 7 Zalaciewicz, J., 114
Zizioulas, J., 192
Zuckert, 183
Y Życiński, J., 217
Yin-yang, 207 Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, 216

Embracing The Ivory Tower and Stained Glass Windows: Jennifer Baldwin Editor

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Issues in Science and Religion: Publications of the European

Society for the Study of Science and Theology

Jennifer Baldwin Editor

Embracing the Ivory Tower

ISSN 2364-5717 ISSN 2364-5725 (electronic)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015957438

Springer Cham Heidelberg New York Dordrecht London

Printed on acid-free paper

Springer International Publishing AG Switzerland is part of Springer Science+Business Media (www.

eschatology. John Nunes explores Jackelen’s reflection on the power of religion in

Elmhurst, IL, USA Jennifer Baldwin

Part I Expanding Time and Eternity

Part II Exploring the Messy Middle

9 Biocultural Wholes, Partial Perspectives, Path Dependency

Part III Engaging Intersections

Part IV Experiencing Ecclesia

Index ................................................................................................................. 241

Carol Rausch Albright Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, Chicago, IL,

Anne L.C. Runehov Uppsala University, Uppsala, Sweden

Abstract In her eschatology, Antje Jackelén labors to repudiate dualism between

Keywords Retroactive ontology • Eschatology • Prolepsis • Trinity • Antje Jackelén

According to theologian and Archbishop Antje Jackelén, we human creatures are

© Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 3

determined retroactively by the telos of time, by the eschatological completion of

Trinity, Time, and Eternity

Eternity as the Gift of Duration

What is eternity? It is commonly thought that eternity is timelessness. Perhaps

Eschatology, Cosmology, and the Tension between Theology

immeasurably? From a cosmological perspective, much in eschatology appears to

God as the World’s Future

As I write this chapter for the JackelénFestschrift, my own attempt to provide a

If it can be reasonably assumed that Newton did not intend a

© Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 13

Keywords Eschatology • Europic Principle • God of the Gaps • Holy • Jackelén •

Holy Accidents Within

Lessing’s formulation in later years assumed the chanting charm of a mantra:

The Experience of Unsettling Presence

The Europic Principle

Experiences of Forgetting Time

And showing the importance of the work of science as “commentary” to the

Vítor Westhelle is professor of Systematic Theology at the Lutheran School of Theology at

Anne L.C. Runehov

A.L.C. Runehov (*)

© Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 27

several understandings of time are analysed; e.g. three understandings suggested by

Keywords Atemporality • Eternity • Divine Action • Temporality • Time

Defining the Problem

The question is: Is God/Could God be understood to be timeless or atemporal and

Human Perception of Time

Time and mind

First order change

expect a B whenever we experience an A. This expectation is then illicitly projected

Past Future Past

Needless to say, such an understanding is problematic. For instance, suppose we

What catches a philosophical mind is the sentence ‘… fails to accommodate the

include any time-order, they deﬁne atemporal existence as simultaneous existence

Hence we are forced to deﬁne simultaneity as existence or occurrence at the

In order to solve the problem of dualism we need a conceptual adjustment concern-

teristic of quantum physics is that whenever we measure or observe a physical

One consequence of the collapse is that, as Lockwood writes, as soon as an

Keywords Dance • Eschatology • Eternity • Relationality • (matrix of) time

This experienced or to be experienced time shapes our lives. Indeed, we organize

© Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 45