The God Debate (part five): Transcendent Ideas

In opening this series of articles on the theme of transcendence as a point of departure in the God Debate the reader was introduced to the concept of universal and pure ideas. The object of the present discussion, in returning to this theme, is to reach a clearer understanding of these essences as realities that, whilst lacking any material or quantifiable corporeality, form the foundation for anything to which the human mind can ascribe quality. It simply does not do to dismiss the epistemic appreciation of quality as an adopted meme beneficial to the survival instinct and the wider evolutionary process. Admittedly, that certain birds prefer the characteristics of one tree to another for the purpose of nest-building does indeed fit this description. Likewise, the reality that human communities have produced folk tales and myths warning of the dangers of, for example, the sea fits this description as well. Yet this is but a rudimentary identification of quality. On consideration of this behavioural commonality one can discern in both birds and people an a priori desire for objects of the highest possible quality; an innate yearning for perfection. Here one arrives at ontology; the universal idea of perfection presupposed by the desire for the best object among alternatives. Moving beyond those preferences and that desire which assist animals in their survival and evolutionary journey there are examples of preferences according to quality that serve not our instinct to survive but our sense of pleasure. One need think only of why greater value is attributes to Michelangelo’s David than to a clay beaker made by a sixteen year old as part of school art project. Quality better satisfies need and gives living things pleasure.

Similar to the question first posed in The Chautauquan magazine (1883) regarding the sound or silence of a tree falling in a location bereft of listeners, a thought experiment arises from our conceptualisation of quality or the transcendent. If one were to suggest that there existed two things in a hypothetical universe without life; one of immeasurable quality and another of little quality. Can this qualitative distinction be maintained in the absence of any intellect capable of perceiving these objects? The strictly materialist answer (holding that the quality of a thing can be evaluated only by the processes of mind) would be an unqualified no. Yet if the further suggestion was to be advanced that the particular quality of these two existing things was the ability to generate intelligent life, then at some future date that intelligent life would have the ability to qualitatively differentiate between the two retrospectively; implying that the quality pre-existed the intelligent mind. This latter consideration, by the anthropic principle, concludes that quality exists independent of mind. The strictly materialist answer demands that there was no transcendent quality prior to mind, and therefore contradicts the present reality of mind. This paradoxical conclusion may be extended to all transcendental qualities and to their reality at every moment and in every part of the physical universe.

One such quality which is of particular interest to the present discussion (at least so far as Judaism and Christianity are concerned) is that of ‘the good.’ This transcendental quality of goodness has a number of meanings including that which is pleasing or beneficial, morally right or virtuous and enjoyable or satisfying, among others. With regard to this concept of the good the physicist may say that the elemental particles of matter spread throughout the universe are good due to their ability to form stars, solar systems and galaxies. This attribution of goodness is precisely the intended meaning of that captured by the poet behind the Hebrew Bible’s first account of creation:

“And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness (Genesis 1:4).”

This intuition of a transcendent good existing prior to humanity, a quality considered good by virtue of its beneficial effect on every proceeding development, was not lost on the mind of the biblical author; able only to reflect upon this quality in retrospect. At this point, it is hoped, the physicist and the priest, ‘Einsteinian Religion’ and Theology can share common ground; throughout the universe, running in tandem with all the laws of physics there exists a transcendent aspect which has being (without material substance) wholly distinct from the universe. ‘Being (from the verb ‘to be’ as opposed to the sense of a ‘sentient being’)’ in the previous clause is emphasised because, unlike the universe of matter and void, it lacks the quantifiable characteristics of existing matter or void capable of being inhabited by matter. To speak of transcendent being as opposed to quantifiable matter and void in the universe brings the focus of the discussion to Plato’s concept of pure ideas, yet even to think of ‘ideas’ implies mind and thought. Therefore this thought of pure or essential thought must be further refined to the idea of essence; the essence of a universal quality which transcends everything which is empirically quantifiable in the cosmos. It would appear that mathematics provides the best analogous approach to this rather cerebral form of rational gymnastics.

Mathematics, quite unlike physics, chemistry and biology with their theorems and hypotheses, is the only science or art (in the classical sense) that can offer proofs and truths. The purely abstract quality of n (any number) retains its numerical value ad infinitum; time, matter and void have no bearing on the value of n and thus one can speak of this value as not merely a mathematical truth but as a transcendent and eternal truth. The unquantifiable essence of numerical truth, like the numerous transcendent qualities of time, matter and void, has its being with, in and through the universe and at every moment of the universe’s existence. Had then we to assume the validity of modern cosmological consensus that matter has always existed, it follows then that one must accept the same is true also of the being of transcendence. Once this logical premise is established adherence to the dogma of strict philosophical or scientific materialism becomes impossible. The empiricist is thus forced to concede that the very qualities which allow the intelligent mind to form meaning have a reality that, to quote Saint Paul of Tarsus, ‘transcend all understanding (Philippians 4:7).’

Such a concession, if such is to be possible, raises two important questions; that of the limitation of imagination and that of the nature of Jewish and Christian revelation. With regard to the question of imagination the suggestion that transcendence is not within the intellectual sphere of empirical verification or quantification has been challenged by the hypothesis that it is unknowable at present due only to the lack of imagination and technology. Indeed this is an astute counter argument, but it is vaguely reminiscent of Will Ferguson’s description of the Japanese penchant for the statistical analysis of beauty:

“They have discovered that the famous white sands and blue pine trees of the Bridge of Heaven are relatively minor features of the view. A scientific breakdown shows that the pine trees comprise just 8.2 percent of the overall picture… (Hokkaido Highway Blues, 1998)”

Something rich, transcendently beautiful and poetic is lost in the translation of the sublime to the statistical. One need think only of a romantic steam-train journey along the Welsh coast spoiled by the presence of Roy Cropper in the same carriage. The materialist assertion that ‘one fine day’ all the mysteries of the transcendent essences will be laid bare with the power of scientific, empirical inspection smacks of violence against wonder. Can we truly imagine, do we want to imagine a world wherein making love is merely coitus or where babies are simply offspring? The preceding rhetoric, however, is no argument at all, and if it was an argument it would be a rather facile argument to sheer will power. That we do not wish to live in such a world does not mean that we do not. It remains to be seen whether or not humanity lacks the imagination to envisage the unravelling of such mysteries, but given that such mysteries do not materially exist and therefore transcend perception (as we know it) places a dark pall over the possibility of ever detecting a mechanism for such abstractions.

Creation itself raises a question in relation to the conclusions of scientific theory. As stated above, the current consensus among physicists and cosmologists is that matter was neither created nor can it be destroyed. This poses a potentially catastrophic problem for the biblical account of creation. Yet it must be noted that this is a problem only insofar as one elects to read the relevant texts in a rigidly literal manner. To this there are a number of things that can be said. From a Christian theological perspective one is required to distinguish between the Revelation of God and the record of that revelation. The Christian does not believe that the Word of God was made print, but rather that “the Word (λογος) became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:14).” To the Christian it is the person of Jesus of Nazareth who is the perfect Revelation of God and the canonical texts but the record of God’s continual revelation to people.

On the reading of the biblical text it has been commonly assumed that the words of Genesis 1 imply a creation ex nihilo; ‘out of nothing.’ Yet a closer examination of the text in question may show other possibilities;

“In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was formless and void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while the wind from God swept over the waters. Then God said, ‘Let there be light;’ and there was light (Genesis 1:1-3).”

It is altogether likely that the opening phrase was intended to function as an introduction to the theme of the myth; ‘here is what happened when God formed (the Hebrew traditionally translated ‘created’ implies the moulding of one form into another) the heavens and the earth.’ This reading would inform our understanding of the following details. In this reconstruction the first action of God was to call light into being over a pre-existing dark and formless mass. Other than agreeing, in principle, with the scientific consensus this hermeneutic of the Genesis text parallels the details of the earlier Ancient Near Eastern myths from which the Genesis myth of creation developed. No Jew or Christian, on the basis of the sacred texts, is required to accept a creation from nothing. Besides, in making the important distinction between truth and fact, the historical-critical reader is perfectly aware that these a mythological accounts and not scientific textbooks.

The God Debate (part six)