After my previous post on “Schrödinger’s Cross,” a friend
suggested, half in fun, that I should turn to Heisenberg and the Uncertainty
Principle. This was a challenge not to be resisted, even for as un-mathematical
a mind as mine. I’m not sure that it is possible to apply it in any way but
vague, fuzzy and inaccurate analogy. But we can try.
The Uncertainty Principle relates to
atomic-sized situations because in normal life situations it is too tiny to
observe. Things are simply too big, too massy and too slow (like an automobile
moving along a road). But what about spiritual situations? Factors like Sin and
Grace?
Simply speaking, the Uncertainty
Principle says that you cannot measure a particle's position and its momentum simultaneously: as you try to narrow
down position, momentum gets fuzzier; as you try to narrow down momentum,
position gets fuzzier. Moreover, the element may not have had a definite
position before you started measuring it.
As you try to narrow down your measurement of Sin’s position, what happens? Possibilities:
1.
you end up with Law, as in Mosaic/Rabbinic,
Sharia, or Christian Puritan. You apply ‘Sin’ to more and more specific little
actions (eating pork, shellfish, having more than 3 wives, turning on a light
switch – or reading Elmore Leonard -- on the Sabbath).
2.
If and as you do so, your vision of Sin’s momentum, its mass x velocity, gets
fuzzier. You cannot measure both at the same time.
3.
If your vision of Sin’s momentum gets fuzzier,
you are in danger. Sin’s direction may not be at all times clear, but it has
one constant: away from God. If you are deep in the minutiæ of its position,
you are vulnerable to its momentum which may carry you surprisingly far from
God in a surprisingly short time.
Now let’s see what happens if instead you try to narrow down your measurement of Sin’s momentum.
Possibilities:
1.
you get too interested in, & therefore too close
to, its mass/velocity and you simply get sucked into its black hole.
2.
even if not, your vision of its position gets
fuzzier, and specific actions are harder and harder to characterise as Sin. You
cannot measure both at the same time.
3.
This is particularly true of your vision of
their (the actions’) consequences.
These are not what makes Sin Sin, but they are as it were indications of its
(and your) future position.
This makes a certain amount of sense, so far. Now let’s try
it with something other than Sin. How about the Trinity? One’s first reaction would be to say
that there are simply not enough data for measurement. However, that hasn’t
stopped generations of theologians from trying. It’s now an unfashionable topic
for investigation, but that shouldn’t deter us.
Let us see what happens when we try to narrow down our
measurement of the Trinity’s position.
Possibilities:
Possibilities:
1.
Externally, its position is in Heaven. But the
more we try to narrow down the position of Heaven, the fuzzier our measurement
of gets of its momentum, i.e. its impact on our soul. You end up counting
angels on pinheads instead of responding to Glory.
2.
Internally, the Three Persons relate to one
another. But the more we try to narrow down our measurement of that relation as
position – to measure the exact role of each Person, for instance – the fuzzier
gets our measurement of its momentum. We will not, as one Church Father did,
get tears in our eyes merely thinking of the Trinity.
On the other hand, we might try to narrow down our measurement of the Trinity’s momentum.
Possibilities:
1.
Paralysis: physical, intellectual, moral, and
spiritual. The mass x velocity of the Trinity are so immense, so awe-inspiring
– and the immensity and the awe it inspires are not collateral elements to be
eliminated by the observer, but part of the Trinity’s very essence – that as we
get closer to trying to measure it, we are overwhelmed entirely.
2.
Our measurement of its position, whether
external or internal, gets fuzzier. Internally, we may lose sight altogether of
the difference between the Three Persons and confuse them or, worse, conflate
them. We may lose interest in, and respect for, any sort of systematic
theology. Externally, we may end up thinking that Heaven (and/or, by extension,
Hell) is everywhere, or nowhere. “Why, this is Hell, nor am I out of it,” said
Mephistopheles. (Who, of course, lies.)
What all this seems to show me is that yes, it’s an analogy
in this context, and can never be precise, even with the limited precision of
the UP in mathematics and quantum physics. But as an analogy it can be very
valuable. Which in turn raises the question of the value of analogy in any
intellectual endeavour. Paracelsian medicine upheld the ancient theory that
nature was composed of meaningful and intentional signatures, which man must learn to read and interpret. (Walnuts
were good for the brain.) Subsequent science has demoted analogy in favour of
cause and effect. But in the intellectual endeavour that is theology – not just
professional theology but the theology that is the necessary intellectual part
of every believer’s faith – the signature concept may well still hold: an
analogy may lead us to a valuable insight, in which case the analogy forms one
term of a relationship. And there is every likelihood of that relationship’s
being intentional.
