The Second Book of God

Suppose it is true, as I believe it is, that God is known via two books, and one of those books, the rational examination of nature, is banned by organized religion; the resulting concept of God is out of balance and inadequate. This is what I found in my own story.

Since the written, canonical scriptures were composed from the late Bronze Age into the Classical Antiquity or Roman Age—although they were self-claimed to be inspired by God—they were written by men and to men and women who were products of that culture. What those people knew about the cosmos was incredibly simple and very small. The only significant place was Earth, a flat Earth for most, and the lights of the sky, the Sun, Moon, stars, and planets were mysterious lighted bodies that hovered above the Earth in its upper atmosphere. There were no concepts about how biology worked or the basics of how the material reality around us was constructed and functioned. The prevailing view was that it was unknowable and magical.

Surely, the creator of everything knew the secrets of reality, but if that creator had inspired those early men to write about those secrets, it would have appeared to them, and to their readers, as nonsensical. Gibberish. It would be like explaining to a two-year-old how to fix a stalled car engine… our how to build a nuclear fusion reactor.

The second book was essential for expanding God’s knowledge as humanity matured. This is what was happening up until the nineteenth century, when religion declared war on science. Science is the scholar of God’s second book, and to the Christian at least, that book went mute—science, falsely, assigned to the reign of Satan, as a dear conservative pastor friend told me.

As an evangelical, I participated in countless worship services, where we held our hands up high, eyes closed, swayed back and forth, and sang, “Our God is an awesome God… ” trying to transcend into a mystical reality. However, our god was a tiny, Late Bronze Age god, modeled after a human king of that era. My God, then, could fit into my back pocket, and I could evoke him whenever I needed a magic trick, like finding a parking spot at the mall, getting the wrinkles out of my shirt, or giving me a magical good feeling. I knew exactly how that tiny god thought on all topics. He was so small, I knew him exhaustively. We could read the mind of that God, all those people that were different from us, we must hate. That silly little god told our group that men wearing colored underwear (rather than tightly whites) were part of the “gay agenda.”

The mystery associated with that God was the overwhelming emotions I experienced when I looked into the Grand Canyon or tried to wrestle with why such a good God allowed so much suffering in this world. Suffering a mystical illusion? I thought I felt that God when my emotions were stirred, but I didn’t know that God. None of us did. The best human relationships are built upon knowing another person, not just an emotional response when they walk into the room. Knowing is the main course; feelings are just the spices.

We, who are profoundly curious about the cosmos and want a rational exploration of its secrets, are viewed by the modern Christian as inferior, giving up God’s mystery for cold facts, arrogant, living in the flesh, and maybe not a Christian at all. This is shameful and makes the church an inhospitable place for those with a curious mind. They pity us at best. Hate us at worst. That church is dying.

But I pity them. Yet, I don’t see them as moral failures as they do to us. I don’t see them as inferior. They are certainly not dumb. Their limited thinking is not their fault. I feel honored to have them as friends. They live in these present times, when the Christian society has made the second holy book, the enemy of God.

I wanted to write this series on the wonderful things in that second book that expand our view of God from the boxed-in God, the Late-Bronze-Aged God who hates transexuals and words like “shit,” and loves it when we dress up for church, listen only to bad Christian music, to a mighty God that is far beyond human comprehension. I realize that the task is impossible. But I can only act as the person at Costco who stands and hands out samples of “pizza bread” or whatever. A brief sample, to change some minds.

I will start with the small scale and work my way up to the large scale. I will mention that it is a false narrative for the Christian to assume that when we pursue science, it is because we have given up on mystery, in exchange for dead facts. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can be further from the truth. Science is not the cul-de-sac of knowledge, but a window into the endless unknowns. Cosmologists know the mystery of God better than the monks. Quantum physicists/mechanics have a better view of God’s secret mysteries than Christian mystics. It is the difference between the feelings within and the vast expanse of the incredible reality outside ourselves.

In a perfect Christian world, a good church would have Sunday school classes, not only books of the written Bible, but classes on what the James Webb Telescope has taught us about the nature of God. I’ve suggested this to churches, and were met with rolled eyes and the suggestion that I’m a certified weirdo.

Starting with the Small: Quantum Physics, Part I

As a sample of the quantum world, upon which all material reality is built, I have two short lectures (introductions) below. For those with no science background, I suggest starting with “Quantum for Dummies.” For those with a basic understanding of science, I recommend the second one by cosmologist and science educator Brian Cox.

Knowing that most readers here will not watch either one, I will make one comment. I’ve heard modern Christian mystics and New Age spiritual people say that quantum physics teaches us that God is irrational. They have no clue what they are talking about. While quantum physics is filled with mystery and quirks, it is profoundly rational, like Newtonian/ classical Physics, and predictable within a range of probability.

With respect, Mike