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I have very little to add to this parsing of Whitehead’s ontology. I am thankful for the discussion and find it helpful in a related question –that is what names and metaphors shall we choose to refer to God in Christian worship? Reading through Chris’ post might we choose to name God the ‘eternal dreamer?’ The Aramaic word, ‘Alaha’ also provides inspiration for devotion.

The importance, even urgency, of this quest comes into focus when we consider that the most common liturgical names for God are ‘Lord’ or even worse, ‘Lord God Almighty.’ Lord is typically a translation of the Hebrew ‘Yahweh;’ and Lord God Almighty stands in for the Hebrew ‘El Shaddai.’ These translations lead us to imagine a king on the throne, contributing to the notion that God is remote and filled with judgement rather than love. A better translation of God’s self-revealed name, ‘Yahweh,’ would be ‘My-Name-is-the-Sound-of-Human Breathe.’ ‘El Shaddai’ translates into the “Many-Breasted One.’

Whitehead’s ontology underscores the corruption of the biblical witness through the centuries in service of Empire. Re-writing the liturgical names for God in ways that are more faithful to scripture and guided, in part, by the God of love depicted in Whitehead’s cosmology is urgently needed if we are to free the power of the religious imagination toward eco-civilization.

As I watched the class discussion of the ways that music exemplifies process concepts I was waiting for someone to mention prehension. I think the quote from Whitehead is, ‘the world is felt, and then, perhaps, it is known.’ Music is such a great example because it evokes so much feeling which is often difficult to put into words yet is so full of meaning. Kaeti, your project sounds fascinating. Translating the initial aim into words and deeds in the moment, knowing when to come in and to step back–to use Jay’s jazz metaphor– requires a tenderness, wisdom, and openness that I too rarely possess. I suppose that’s because it’s not a possession at all, but a gift, that comes wrapped within the initial aim itself. Paul called it ‘putting on the mind of Christ.’ The Buddha (and other contemplatives) called it ‘detachment,’ i.e. disentangling from all delusions of separateness. I think music opens a door (via prehension) that invites us body and soul toward the high calling of the divine lure.

Thank you for your insights.

The most beautiful thing about beauty according to Whitehead, as I understand him, is that we don’t have to do anything to manufacture it. Beauty just is–and it’s all around us. The natural world testifies to the harmonies of contrast and to the unity in diversity that give rise to flourishing –human and nonhuman. Moral beauty, soul beauty, aesthetic beauty cannot be suppressed or controlled. It will always arise to give witness to the lie of injustice and hate whether in the courageous, creative actions of others or from deep within our own heart/consciousness. The persistence of beauty exposes the brittleness of fascism and dictatorship and cultivates hope that all such regimes will fail. Because they are not beautiful, they ultimately collapse from within.

Do we dare to hope in the saving power of beauty? There is so much tragedy, loss, and suffering that accompanies the stupid will to power that tries to bend beauty toward our most selfish ends. The people, places, creatures, and things caught up in the grinding gears of ugliness are to be mourned. The loss is real and irrevocable. Again, I may be putting too much on Whitehead to trust in the persistent power of beauty to metabolize such ugliness to become the soil from which new hopes spring.

The authors we’ve read underscore the urgency of adopting a different relationship to one another and to the earth as a precondition for moving toward eco-civilization. We must change, not only what we do, but how we think, to unlock a path to a more hopeful future.

Are the great wisdom traditions of the world up for the challenge? As George asked, “Is Christianity now just a consumer product?” “Is Christianity in crisis or transition?” As a parish pastor of 30+ years, I have the sense that we are experiencing both. Or put another way, we are in a crisis of transition. Fortunately, I believe this transition does not require us to make anything up by ourselves but rather to circle back to our pre-Constantinian roots, and other early Christian traditions, such as Celtic Christianity.

Celtic Christianity resembles process thought in its depiction of persons and things as deeply intertwined and constantly in flow. Grace is incarnate in everyone, always, and everywhere. It arises most profoundly in, with, under, and above the natural world—God’s first bible.

This is beautifully conveyed in one of the strongest and most elastic symbols of Celtic Christianity—those endlessly intertwining and interlacing ribbons and ever-twisting spirals which adorn their high standing crosses and the pages of their illuminated manuscripts (such as the Book of Kells).

These so-called Celtic knots are intricate, looped patterns with no beginning or end, symbolizing concepts like eternity, love, faith, and the interconnectedness of all things. The ordered, intricate, and symmetrical patterns teach us that life is lived ‘On the Way,’ moving toward greater wisdom and understanding rather than toward any destination. The intertwined patterns depict the protective encirclement of grace that accompanies us everywhere. Encircling prayers, like Saint Patrick’s breastplate, convey the sense of being enveloped in the life of the divine—literally a life lived within the Holy Trinity.

Celtic prayers, liturgy, hymnody, and theology are a profound and hopeful gift to contemporary Christians who seek the way forward as God would have us go forward, toward true eco-civilization.

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I have been pondering an image Jay McDaniel shared on the Open Horizon’s website. He writes, “There is no need for tribalism. No need to argue with or against people of other religions or no religion. Imagine God’s love on the analogy of a light shining through stained glass windows. Each living being, each culture, each religion, reveals some of the light, always in a different color.”

The post is part of a discussion about the non-dual spirituality of Franciscan brother and Catholic priest, Richard Rohr. Yet, I think it relates well to Islamic and Judaic intuition about how the diverse and beautiful ways the image of God is reflected in each of us. Stained glass images represent a ‘harmony of contrasts,’ as Whitehead might say, which each contribute something essential to the whole. Moreover, stained glass images vary moment by moment according to the intensity of the light shining through them.

I find this to be a helpful way to affirm the importance and value of the diverse images and names for God being lived out among people within a given community at any one time.

Sorry I missed the first class. I have a work commitment that conflicts with some of our sessions. I look forward to watching when the video becomes available.

The Lutheran church was very much a center point of family life throughout my childhood and into my college years. We counted many ‘Church families’ among the friends with whom we shared meals, celebrated life events, and even went together with on vacation (e.g.camping trips). I was active in the church youth group and attended a church affiliated college, St. Olaf. Yet, I described myself as an agnostic–affirming either the existence or non-existence of God required more certainty than I could muster. I viewed the church as a positive influence on my life that did a lot of good for congregants and for the wider community (e.g.social services, world hunger, world relief). At the same time, I was appalled at the violent and negative role the church historically has played in wars, colonization, slavery, and the propagation of patriarchy. (As a youth, I was mostly unaware of the role the church played in the genocide of native Americans or the perpetuation of white supremacy.)

A very difficult time during my freshman year of college became a pivotal moment for me. I had an experience of the presence of God. I had no idea what it meant but one result was that I decided to put the question of God’s existence aside. Even so, I remained quite critical about the church and skeptical about the authority of dogma.

I double majored in philosophy and religion but told folks I intended to become a lawyer. Later, I enrolled in the Master of Divinity program at the University of Chicago but only because I thought that was the best preparation for a Ph.D. You might say I had a second epiphany in discovering a passion for practical theology and congressional ministry. A course in process theology, specifically the philosophy of Charles Hartshorne, opened the door to life in the church for me both personally and professionally.

I was ordained in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) in 1993. I’ve served three congregations in Metro-Chicago. Currently, I serve an urban parish on the north side in Chicago’s Edgewater neighborhood.

Lots more to say –I am remarried, have five kids (including one for whom I am his guardian), but this note is already too long. I look forward to learning and sharing more as we go through this course together.

There’s an old saying: “You can’t tell me ‘what a friend I have in Jesus’ unless and until I find a true friend in you.” The vitality of the Church as a whole, and of any congregation in particular, flows first from a culture of friendliness, welcome, and belonging before any update of theology and philosophy becomes relevant. That being said, I believe process philosophy supports good/better preaching and teaching that helps to nurture a friendly welcoming culture of community.

I suppose I have invested my whole professional life (32 years post-ordination and counting) to the ‘New Reformation’ Whitehead described nearly 100 years ago. I give thanks that the congregation I serve now exemplifies the adventurous community of faith Whitehead seems to have had in mind–much of the time. I would say this spirit has less to do with my own role as pastor and more to do with the broad convergence of many streams sweeping across the cultural landscape. The current political movement, including the oxymoron of Christian Nationalism, which is neither Christian nor patriotic, might be interpreted as resisting the powerful sweep of this broad change. There are many faith communities of various denominations, of different religions, and of no religion that are embracing this reform despite not knowing where it all leads.

The streams of change are coming from contemporary exegesis of our sacred texts, from the rediscovery of ancient faith practices and liturgical renewal, from the social sciences (such as family systems theory, neuroscience, and gender diversity), from biology and physics, from the crisis of climate change and systemic racism–to name but a few.

I believe Whitehead’s philosophy offers a profound gift, whose time may finally be coming, to resolve the urgent contemporary cultural challenge to reach for common ground in support of the common good within and among diverse communities unified in the desire to be truly friendly, welcoming, and supportive to each other.

Kaeti,

Thank you for your wonderful, vivid imaginings of our human experience intertwined with the life and love of God. (Forgive me if I put words in your mouth. I must admit I do not fully appreciate all that you have conceived in your art.) I feel that you are reaching into the far future to depict what might be in the minds of people who are part of a culture that has embrace and internalized contemporary learnings about human experience, including Whitehead’s cosmology.

The roof of my church is the only one I know of with a finger pointing to the sky (rather than a cross). As if to say, God is up there, far away. The old three-story universe (hell/earth/heaven) was still very much intact in 1952 when the church was built. It strikes me that what you have envisioned is so much more dynamic, relational, and true to life.

How does God feel without a physical body? Of course, I don’t know. My thoughts wander towards the work of Murray Bowen’s family systems theory. He suggested we’re all living within emotional fields (like electrical or magnetic fields). We ‘feel’ emotions at a distance and pick up the vibe of a gathering in a room, or even, which emanate from culture at large. These are transmitted through the body –but not the five senses. (I’m not sure about what Bowen says about this.) Research by neurobiologist, Dacher Keltner, points to the Vagas nerve which connects the brain, the heart, the lungs, and our abdominal viscera. God’s body exist in, with, and under all that is. Perhaps there’s some capacity in God’s universe-sized body to feel the way our Vagus system feels.

Thanks for stimulating some crazy, fun thoughts!

Thank you, Dennis, for the lovely recording of spring. Are those tree frogs we hear? According to some accounts, amphibians are having a rough time out there. It gives me joy just knowing they are alive and doing their thing.

Thank you George, for your precise and concise reflections, particularly in connection with the rise of systems theory. I cannot be so articulate, but I too am reflecting on Murray Bowen’s work as I read Whitehead’s philosophy of organism. Whitehead wrote, ‘the world must first be felt and then, perhaps, known.’ This appears to align very well with Bowen’s description of the emotional field dynamics of family systems (and arising from other relationships, groups, and communities). Bowen posits these dynamics are fundamental contributors to the propagation of both wellness and anxiety/disease. Like Whitehead, Bowen describes a non-conscious felt awareness which stubbornly undergirds family/group identity and resists change. Sometimes this homeostasis is good, as compared to the function of a healthy immune system. Other times, such strong resistance to change locks in maladaptive and unhealthy dynamics. Most often, these dynamics are unspoken and inarticulate. Nevertheless, Bowen suggests, the resulting feelings are immediate and provoke decisive vectors for action/compliance. Bowen’s system theory offers an array of helpful techniques and concepts to aid clinical psychologists and leaders of organizations alike to shape these dynamics in helpful ways, for example through non-anxious functioning, stepping out of triangles, and honest, direct communication. The sense I have (and, I believe, we all have) of feeling the emotional dynamics of a group simply upon stepping into the room –is emblematic for me of what Whitehead means by prehension. I can readily imagine this sort of in-gathering awareness to extend all the way down in the tree of existence.

The Unitarian Church is just two blocks away from home! I live on Wesley Ave. between Greenwood and Lake in Evanston. The church I serve, Immanuel Lutheran is in Edgewater (not the one in Evanston). I’m very familiar with Rogers Park.

I was exposed to process thought at the U of C. Divinity School in the early 1990’s. Pil Devenish was supervisor of the M.Div. students then and was a committed process guy. We read works by Schubert Ogden and Charles Hartshorne. As I’ve said elsewhere, it opened the door to parish ministry for me. Later, I returned to the Divinity School to audit a course on Whitehead’s Process and Reality (and other works) taught by Franklin Gamwell.

I was ordained in 1993 and have served three ELCA congregations in Metro Chicago. I find great openness and affirmation to process-informed preaching–but not so much enthusiasm for Whitehead and process philosophy itself. I have been delighted to stumble into the Homebrewed community convened by Tripp Fuller. I attended the recent conference in Denver. The experience gave me renewed hope for the future of the faith community. I am hopeful the certificate program is a way to widen that circle and also to ground my upcoming sabbatical which has an eco-theology theme.

Thank you again for taking up the task of teaching this course. I look forward to running into you again –online– and maybe also in the neighborhood!

Also –blessing to you this weekend as you attend to family and share your grief. I’ll be thinking of you.

Monte