Religious Response to an Evolutionary Universe

In the first place, a relatively small universe has given way to one whose present size in space and time is beyond our comprehension. The structures that we see around us have taken 13.7 billion years (according to the latest measurements) to develop as they are today. Our Milky Way Galaxy alone is filled with hundreds of billions of stars while there are probably some tens of billions of trillions of stars throughout the entire cosmos.

Secondly, a static universe has given way to an evolutionary one. We now know that the formation of structures such as atoms, molecules and galaxies has taken a long time. Thirteen billion years ago, there were no stars; five billion years ago, the solar system was but a cloud of swirling gas and dust, remnants of a supernova explosion. The simplest forms of life found on Earth appeared about four billion years ago and we humans have been around for fewer than three million years, a mere blink of the eye in cosmic terms. From that first burst of cosmic energy almost fourteen billion years ago, the universe has been expanding with galaxies continuing to move farther apart from each other as time goes on.

Finally, a predictable universe has given way to one governed by chaos and chance. The science of quantum mechanics and, more recently, chaos theory has shown that the future is less predictable than we once thought. The outcomes of quantum events can be known only to within a probability factor and the fate of even the simplest non-linear systems, so sensitive to even the smallest disturbances, is now known to be unpredictable. A butterfly flapping its wings in London can have profound effects on the climate as far away as Tokyo. So much is known about the way things work, the mechanisms. This has given the human community a great deal of power, an astounding capacity for invention and discovery. Technological breakthroughs dependent on these theories have radically changed our lifestyles. Yet, there is still so much mystery. The beginning of time continues to baffle us. The basic constituents of matter still elude us even as the latest atom smashers shatter what were once thought to be fundamental particles. Astronomers search the heavens for dark matter in an effort to make sense of the present expansion rate of the universe. We listen carefully for extraterrestrial beings wondering whether we have living counterparts in other areas of the universe.

Our religious worldview has generally been slow to accommodate these changes. Because a true dialogue between the sciences and theology has been meagre throughout these same years, the two worldviews continue to find themselves miles apart. Yet, without theological reflection on scientific developments, the gap between science and religion can only widen. Scientific and technological progress made by simply ignoring any level of reality other than the material encourages some to consider religion an outdated cultural institution. When pitted against scientific theories of evolution and cosmology, the literal reading of biblical creation stories has made some sceptical about the very relevance of religion, so at odds are these stories with modern cosmology. Others ignore the religious implications of scientific developments because they find science a threat to faith and prefer to keep religion and science as separate categories. Most people find themselves without the resources to do the hard work required to integrate what seem separate worlds.

Today it is heartening to see renewed potential and enthusiasm for a dynamic reconciliation. Although the extremes of scientific materialism and religious fundamentalism still prevail and despite what might appear to be a negative challenge to traditional dogma, the evolutionary worldview has opened theology to a search for a God who is up to the evolutionary challenge. Theologians willing to engage the search often find that new light is shed on the nature of God and of creation when scientific theories are in dialogue with dogma. Some find new ways of reading theological statements about God and creation that are consonant with science. Others have devised exciting innovative approaches to the synthesis. In what follows, I will consider some ways in which theology has been responding positively to the notion of an evolutionary universe and to the scientific theories of chaos and complexity.

Chaos and complexity

The new cosmology tells us that all that we see around us had its origin in the Big Bang. There, at the beginning, we find the material basis for everything that exists today. The extremely hot and dense environment of that initial burst of radiation enticed particles to interact and fuse, to set out on a creative path that would extend down through the billions of years that follow. Physicist Victor Weisskopf compares this birthing event to the dramatic opening bars of a grand symphony, a symphony that begins with a great cosmic fortissimo, as matter and energy pour into the expanding space.

Recent scientific investigations have also shown us just how delicately balanced and finely tuned the cosmos has been from the beginning. A small change in even one of the conditions of the early universe could have doomed it to a very different outcome. Perhaps it might have expanded too quickly for life to develop. Or it might have collapsed before life even had a chance to form. Instead, conditions were such that its actual expansion rate allows for the emergence of atomic structure, galactic structure and life. This fortunate state of affairs leads some to the human-centred assumption that the universe was destined for life and mind. In any case, the universe does seem biased toward diversity, variety and beauty.

Chaos and complexity scientists are presently trying to understand the mechanisms that have guided the formation of everything from galaxies to patterns on butterfly wings. They are discovering that nature is far more creative than we had ever thought it to be. In fact, the universe seems to be self-organizing. Stable systems, driven far from equilibrium to a state that has been termed the edge of chaos, tend to generate novel patterns. The resulting complex systems are characterized by emergent properties, characteristics that cannot be predicted from their component parts.

The traditional religious view of the cosmos is in stark contrast with the self-organizing view depicted by complexity theory. Dominated by a metaphysics of being, that view contended that the world created by God was a finished world, symbolized by the Garden of Eden. The Fall of Adam and Eve from grace made sense of the less-than-perfect world that we encounter in our day-to-day world and created among the faithful a nostalgia for a lost perfection The new cosmology, on the other hand, asserts that we live in an unfinished world, one still in the process of becoming. Moreover, complexity theory shows us a universe filled with self-organizing structures. And, in this universe, it is clearly not only we humans who are creating. Even inert matter seems capable, when stimulated with the right energy input, of fashioning exotic forms and beautiful patterns.

The role of God in creation then has radically changed. Some people wonder whether it has been completely eliminated. In light of these exciting developments in science, a new theology of nature and a new way of thinking about God’s action in the world are needed. Fortunately, theologians are beginning to take up this important challenge. Thinkers such as Teilhard and Moltmann have already paved the way for contemporary thinking about a God for evolution. Because its incorporation into theology has encouraged a deeper and truer understanding of God, theologian, John Haught, calls the theory of evolution Darwin’s gift to theology.

Actually, a more dynamic version of creation is not completely foreign to the theological tradition. As long ago as the thirteenth century, many years before anyone had even an inkling that there was a Big Bang, the Franciscan theologian, Bonaventure used creation imagery that resonates with the new cosmology. Relying on the insights of the early Fathers of the Church, Bonaventure described creation as the free ecstatic overflow of a Trinitarian fountain of goodness and love. Theologians are reviving this articulation as they reflect on the new cosmology and incorporate its insights into their theological formulations. Some Christian theologians are suggesting that the portrait of the self-emptying love of Jesus portrayed in his passion, death and resurrection reveals the self-emptying nature of God’s love and that this has implications for our understanding of the divine act of creation. Just as the ‘Christ-event’ was a kenotic or self-emptying event in which Jesus suffered humbly and poured his unlimited love into our human world, so, according to Moltmann and others, God creates in an act of total self-giving and then withdraws humbly from creation. Rather than being in absolute control, the kenotic God has gratuitously handed over power, given over the on-going work of creation to creation itself, allowing it to be itself, to become itself distinct from its creator, ultimately to decide its own fate. This view seems consistent with our experience of individual freedom and allows us to address the difficult problem of suffering in the world. God’s self-emptying love does not simply invite the world into being. As a parent who wants only the best for his/her children, the God of kenosis dwells at the heart of matter in a mode of encouragement and love. God’s prevailing and intimate presence constantly urges us to develop, to raise ourselves even further over our original indefiniteness.

Beyond this it encourages us to engage in the kind of creativity that is chaotic. Tottering at the edge between order and turbulence, chaotic processes are hazardous. Outcomes are far from clear. But, a kenotic God never abandons us to the suffering and pain that would naturally accompany an unfinished cosmos. Rather, a kenotic God is affected by us, suffers with us, interacts with us as we continue to grope, to struggle, to respond to our inner call to engage in creative processes. Given what we know about this creative process from chaos theory, a God who creates through chaos must be a trusting God.

Cosmic unity

Through the ages, the beauty and power that pervade the cosmos have evoked a sense of wonder and awe. Storms and earthquakes, the ocean and the night sky speak to the beauty and power of a loving creator. In a creation-centred paradigm, the cosmos becomes a primary source of revelation of the divine mystery. Its dynamics disclose to us the nature of God’s action in the world. An important religious insight that follows from taking the evolutionary world seriously is that the cosmos is in fact one. All of creation continues to share the rich elements that are continually fused in the cores of the stars from the elementary particles that emerged at the time of the Big Bang. The unity for which we long and for which we work is already a reality on this most basic level. The truth is that we have been interconnected from the beginning. Interconnected and interdependent with all of creation, we survive by constantly recycling each other’s waste products. Interaction with our environment not only keeps us from entropic decay but also provides the necessary input energy to create new forms. This is the basis for ecological responsibility with its moral consequences.

To focus our profound interconnection and interdependence, theologians like Sallie McFague are proposing that we consider the cosmos as God’s body, extending the human-centred Mystical Body of Christ to all of creation. This dynamic model is also an incarnational model and has the advantage of emphasizing simultaneously both the immanence and transcendence of God. God breathes through each and every creature while at the same time empowering the entire universe to become.

The Jesuit paleontologist, Teilhard de Chardin, writing in the early twentieth century, noticed not only the profound unity within the cosmos but also its tendency towards union. He had an intuitive sense of what is only now being discovered by complexity scientists. He noticed that from the very beginning, matter has tended to unite, to cluster about a centre, in a process that he calls creative union. This process, he notes, allows an entity to remain itself even as it becomes something more. Just as novelty and emergent properties arise in the formation of complex systems, so Teilhard sensed the emergence of the spiritual as matter continues to complexify. He interpreted this tendency toward unity to mean that all of creation is seeking an ultimate centre. Teilhard identifies this ultimate, divine, personal centre with the Cosmic Christ. According to Teilhard, it is the Cosmic Christ who calls us constantly and consistently into a future full of hope and novelty and beauty. Like the strange attractors of chaos theory, the Cosmic Christ whom Teilhard calls Omega guides the cosmic becoming, holds all things together.

Teilhard looks forward to the promise of a final act of union in which all will finally become one with Omega who is drawing all creation into one.

Science and theology in dialogue

A theology that responds to the surprise and novelty of chaos theory would also be consistent with the Christian tradition of hope. Hope has been so characteristic of the Christian message. The scriptures are full of extravagant, divine promise: for long life, for numerous descendants, for land flowing with milk and honey. The richness of promise leads to a response of hope. It is a hope that leads us on, that allows us to trust, that keeps us going, even in the light of defeat and terror. Hope gives us the courage to walk to the edge of chaos, to relinquish what is familiar, to try everything, to launch out into the deep so that new patterns can be formed. The world where chaos and complexity reign is a world where novelty abounds. A theology that incorporates chaos theory would account for the creative impulse that stimulates the cosmos to solve the problems it encounters with new approaches. It would also account for the novelty and beauty that continues to develop at every level of the cosmic hierarchy.

In recent years, science has probed more deeply into the mystery of the universe. It has helped us to appreciate the beauty of our cosmic structures. It has opened us to awe and reverence for the wonders of creation. What is needed now more than ever is a theology that will help us to see the profound presence of God at the heart of matter, to touch the sacredness of creation, to experience our deep interconnection with all of creation, and to work for the essential unity to which we are called. For this to be a reality, science and theology will need to become equal dialogue partners in this significant endeavour.

Kathleen Duffy, SSJ, PhD, is Professor of Physics at Chestnut Hill College, Philadelphia, PA, USA. She can be contacted at: kduffy@chc.edu