In 1665 Robert Hooke was able to demonstrate that life exists on a cellular level, a world previously unrealized. But it wasn’t until 1955 that Erwin Mueller was able to witness life on the atomic level, unlocking yet another world previously unwitnessed. And since then not only have we been able to take a peek into the sub-atomic world, but we have also thrown satellites like the Webb telescope up into outer space able to send back high-definition images of the grandeur of the cosmos – again, worlds largely unimagined by our ancestors.
Given that we live in a universe that scales in such extreme and extraordinary ways, you’d think, we’d be in a constant state of amazement – but in truth, our reflex impulse is to ask “So, what else you got?”
There is an innate reductionism to viewing our existence as nothing more than animate and inanimate objects caught in the constant flux exchange between matter and energy. Which is to ask, if existence is just stuff that does things, apparently on every scale imaginable, then what’s the point? Why should anything exist at all? Why should there be something, rather than nothing? These are the teleological questions that go to the very heart of existence. Is existence merely the cause-and-effect happenstance backdrop where our lives are played out? Or is existence breaming with purpose in ways and on levels that our minds are unable to comprehend?
But here’s the thing – either way, existence itself is arguably, a miracle. Because here we are . . . as opposed to not having being at all.
Non-existence doesn’t haunt us because we fear the absence of our molecules, rather it’s because we fear non-being. This is because, on some level, we know that we are more than just an object among objects . . . and that the miracle of consciousness seems to define us even more than our molecules. For it is the physical and metaphysical together that give phenomenological dimension to our existence. An existence where meaning, value, and purpose can be sorted out – but also an existence described by St Augustine as being filled with “disordered desires” . . . which is why even the miracle of being alive somehow leaves us asking “So, what else you got?”
The modern narrative is one of disenchantment. What you see is what you get, and if not then it’s either the denizens of social conformity imposing their will, or the pathologies of your own psychological state keeping you off balance – or some combination of the two. But the modern narrative has no category for a supernatural miraculous subtext of meaning, other than as a remnant vestige of antiquated thinking. But what I find particularly interesting is how much of this lack of enchantment has crept into the Christian ethos – as if we were afraid to fully embrace the mystic elements of our faith confession.
Even my use of the words mystic and enchantment are, no doubt, setting on edge the teeth of some Christians as they read them in this article. But in fact, Christianity is a pre-modern framing of the world – a world that was seen by the followers of Christ as having sacramental dimensions. Whereas, the modern mind is inclined to reductively flatten everything out into demystified curated explainable bits of data – but the Christian confession humbles the heart to the mystery of God’s narrative ever unfolding, ever entreating us to be reconciled to him and to one another . . . in a world expressly designed for this very purpose.
For when we have God, we have all we need . . .
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