Religion Confronting Science

by Donivan Bessinger

Chapter Seven

GOOD, ETHICS, EVIL

The man has become like one of Us, knowing good and evil

And the Lord God planted a garden in Eden, in the east;
___ and there he put the man whom he had formed ...
And out of the ground the Lord God made to grow every tree
___ that is pleasant to the sight and good for food,
___ the tree of life also in the midst of the garden,
___ and the tree of knowledge of good and evil. ___(Gn.2:8-9)

In the Garden, eating the fruit of the tree of ethical knowledge caused spiritual death. Why?

Why was that tree more inviting than the tree in the midst of the garden, the tree of life?

Was God being arbitrary and unkind to set things up that way or was it an inevitable and desired consequence of creation's design?

Those are only a few of the questions that we could raise about the story of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, for it is a very profound story with many levels of meaning. It has had incalculable impact on the course of Western civilization. It has influenced the way we interpret almost all other stories. Even in secular society, it shapes our view of ourselves and of how we relate to nature.

Of course, its impact in Christianity is even greater, for this story is the source of the doctrine that we are all tainted with Adam's sin. In that view, we must relate to God as natural sinners, not free in ourselves to do good. But this story is also the source of the contrary view: everything that was created is good, and we are morally free agents. A powerful story indeed!

The prevailing interpretation in Western orthodoxy was not obvious or easily decided. As Elaine Pagels recounts, church fathers wrestled with the Adam's sin issue well into the fifth century when the Church sided with Augustine over Pelagius and branded Pelagius a heretic. In advocating a doctrine of moral freedom, Pelagius opened the way for arguing a doctrine of salvation by works. Augustine, not unmindful of guilt for his own early life, believed that we had inherited Adam's sin; thus Augustine's own salvation and ours must be God's undeserved gift. The doctrine of original sin won the day then, but the debate goes on, and is intensified in the light of modern knowledge about the automicity and balance of creation.

In the beginning, "God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good." (Gn 1:31) Did Adham have the power by one mere act of disobedience to change God's mind about what had been made? Such questions as that are inevitable when Genesis is taken to give a literal historical account of creation completed in some specific earlier time, at some specific location in the geographical east. One favored traditional location for Eden's literal paradise was between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, in Iraq, a nation which at this writing (October 1990) is encircled by armed forces of many nations, seeking to quarantine a despot. Adham's sin is still with us, to be sure, but so is God's creative design for all of life.

There are important historical and collective dimensions to the story of the Garden, but today we may perhaps glean more meaning from it if we take the story's location to be much closer to home. For purposes of this discussion, let us set traditional theological interpretations aside, and understand the Garden of Eden to exist within ourselves.

Mythological research has gathered considerable evidence to justify that interpretation. For example, the association of circles around or within a square or other four-point diagram (the mandala) is found in the spiritual imagery of wholeness in many quite different traditions. Here, in the midst of the garden (at the center, as in a circle) we find the tree of life, and a river (flowing life) divided into four rivers (flowing in all directions to nourish the whole).

Such a configuration of rivers can occur geographically, as in a delta region, but there they flow in the same general direction. The more usual arrangement is for multiple tributaries to converge into one. Here again we have an unusual situation signaling a special spiritual significance.

When our own lives are centered around the tree in the midst of the garden, our world is in harmony, with all provision made for our sustenance (there are "trees for food") and life is beautiful (there are "trees pleasant to the eye"). God walks in such a garden. Physically, we usually experience such a life only in the womb and in earliest infancy. It is the world of the self (using the term in the Jungian sense), unconscious, balanced, ordered, beautiful. In physiological terms, it is a homeostatic state.

But there is another special tree in the garden, located away from the center. It too is a tree of beauty, or at least of distraction. It is also a tree of a special kind of knowledge. In the spiritual lexicon of the garden, the tree of ethical knowledge is the tree of death.

This is the tree of consciousness, at which we become aware of and relate to the outer world. We face away from the inner world of self to develop an ego, an I-dentity, which now can, and must, make choices. It must choose both how it relates to all elements of the beautifully distracting outer world, and how and whether it relates to that inner flow of spiritual rivers which seek to nourish the whole of life. Let us extend the metaphor: The tree of ethical knowledge is the tree of death when it is cut off from its nourishing rivers.

Very interesting. But in our tightly compartmented universities, we don't go to the psychology department, or to a basic science department to study ethics, do we? We go to the department of philosophy, or if there happens to be one there, the department of theology. What has psychology to do with ethics? For that matter, what has ethics to do with our inquiry into religion and science?

There are several reasons to consider ethics here.

First, regardless of whether religionists can establish any other area of concordance with the secular scientific world, it is imperative that we come to consensus about the general norms of action in pluralistic society and in the biosphere at large. Ethics is a matter of survival.

Second, science itself is an ethical enterprise. Knowledge depends on ethics, for experiments falsely reported do not yield science. Science is, and must be, based on honesty and trust. If science is to survive the rapid increase of commercial and academic competiveness, it will have to learn to draw the necessary ethical energies from the wellspring of spiritual consciousness.

Third, scientific knowledge is essential to deciding on right action. In modern life there are many complex dilemmas not covered by the original Ten Commandments. Before we can know what is the right action to take, we have to know what the options are, and how to do what we propose to do. We also have to know what the probable effects of our actions would be.

Fourth, unless we pretend that survival is not an important Good to be achieved, principles of right action must accord with our best understanding of the nature of life systems. Though the scientific and the religious communities disagree on the spiritual goals of creation (and on whether there are any), both must surely agree that life process is the most important value to be protected.

In contemporary philosophical ethics, there are a number of sometimes competing principles of ethics. It seems that academic ethicists are as far away from a consensus on a unifying theory in their own field as are psychologists in theirs. In searching for the ethical solution to a complex dilemma, the controversy will typically center around which of the principles of ethics to apply.

Sometimes the approach to ethics is authoritarian, even in secular society. For example, in the Congress, the "ethics code" is enforced as another level or "layer" of regulation and law. The more common secular approach analyzes the particular problem at hand in terms of its own unique situation. It weighs such principles as benefit, avoiding harm, autonomy of individuals affected, and achieving justice. Still, there remains the problem of whether to decide using rules of duty (e.g. Kant), rules of value (axiology), or rules of utility (e.g. Jeremy Bentham's utilitarianism: "greatest happiness for the greatest number").

In religion we appeal to divine authority as the foundation for our ethics, but that foundation has little appeal or understanding beyond the particular religious community. "Because-God-said-so" does not carry much weight in secular circles, nor does "Because-the-Bible-said-so" influence followers of other scriptures.

If we are to arrive at some consensus in pluralistic global society, we monotheists must start by asking "Why does God say so?", and work from there. We can do that with confidence, for if we believe that God is not self-contradicting, we will accept that God's laws in creation will accord with the correct interpretation of God's laws in scripture and tradition.

When the Ten Commandments are analyzed in terms of their effects on the life system, we see that they are directed toward maintaining the stability of life at some level: individual (Thou shalt not murder), family (do not commit adultery; honor parents), society (do not steal), etc. In this light, "Why God says so" becomes immediately clear, and we begin to see that the Commandments, which we have traditionally interpreted as absolute and perhaps even arbitrary, are directly relevant to the reality of life's design.

However, when we are confronted with modern complexities, it is often hard to know which commandment to apply. Paul Tillich's inquiry into the problem of the absolute and the relative in ethics led him to affirm that we have an absolute imperative to be moral, which arises from the innermost level of our existence. He writes, "If we act against this command from our true being, we violate ourselves", and "God's will is given to us in the way we are created, which means it is given through our true nature, our essential being."

However, Tillich shows that, given life's complexities, the contents of moral action are relative. The situations in which we must act are constantly changing in space and time, and in their mix of ethical tensions which presents us with a "conflict of duties". Some choices are not between good and bad, but "between different possibilities offering themselves as morally good".

In giving a current overview of Christian ethics, Brill emphasizes the relationship of religious ethics to creation's natural design:

To live in accord with the divine will is to enjoy satisfaction and fulfillment -- contentment if not happiness. For the very basis of the moral life is that it accords with our deepest nature. To live the good life is to live as we are intended to live.

In ethics, religion and science come closest to common purpose. Can that lead us to a theory of ethics that could harmonize the religious and secular approaches? Albert Schweitzer's optimistic response was reverence for life, which harmonized his religious understanding as theologian-pastor-missionary, with his orientation as philosopher-physician.

Today, Schweitzer's approach is sometimes confused with the fundamentalistic and authoritarian approach reflected in the political slogan "right to life". Schweitzer's instincts were decidedly different. But there is another problem. Since there has been such an explosion of scientific terminology since the publication of his Philosophy of Civilization (1923), Schweitzer's language already sounds a bit archiac.

However, when we analyze Schweitzer's work in terms of current biological concepts, we can see clearly that his approach is very much a life systems approach. Schweitzer based his argument on the concept of will-to-live. Stated in modern terms, the essence of will-to-live is homeostasis or flux equilibrium, the inner unconscious "will" of all life forms to survive, as individuals and as part of the larger organisms that are the species and the biosphere.

The work of both Tillich and Schweitzer is based on insight into the dynamic essence of life that we find in the life-systems view. "Will-to-live" is divine will expressed at the most basic level of existence in the principles by which the life-system operates. Fundamentally (if not fundamentalistically!), Biblical ethics accords with systems ethics. Whether we approach ethics from a theological study of the divine creator, or from a scientific study of the workings of creation itself, we can see that to act ethically is to act in the conscious world in accordance with that same divinely balanced equilibrium which operates unconsciously at the center of all life.

Still, there is a caution. When we as Christians seek to influence society toward the "good life" as we understand it ethically, we run headlong into an ethical problem. No religious group should impose its own ethical language and system on another. It is unethical (!), for the anger, animosities, and polarities which it creates block ethical response and create instabilities in the life system<197>in this case, the social level of the life system.

Yet we see just such an approach in fundamentalistic religion-in-politics today. As a religious people, we will best fulfill our ethical imperative by working toward a harmonization of ethical understandings among all peoples, while respecting freedom of belief in complex matters of personal morality. We must be careful not to exact the tribute of forcing secular society to bow down to our own idols of preference and practice.

So far, this approach to ethics accords well with the scriptural picture of the life-system as a garden nourished by the tree of life. But what are we to make of that other tree, and of the beguiling serpent who writhes in its branches?

Before we can approach an understanding of evil, we must make careful distinction between misfortune and evil. Much of what seems undesirable in our lives is not the result of some natural evil. Nature is neutral in its intents. As Jesus said, the sun rises on the evil and the good, and rain falls equally on the just and unjust (Mt 5:45). Flood, hurricane, earthquake, and volcanic eruption which bring the misfortunes of physical and economic injury and pain to some may also bring fortune to others.

Evil is not a characteristic of the workings of unconscious nature. Nor, in the garden within ourselves, is the serpent evil, in and of itself. The serpent is there, to be sure, representative of the Shadow aspect of life. In the West, we have given the serpent a bad name. In the East, the snake is a positive image with creative symbolism, for in its shedding of dead skin, the snake is "reborn" to new life. In Jungian interpretation, snake dreams often symbolize a need for a new awakening or a new beginning of life, and though we do not usually interpret it as such, there is certainly that element in the new beginnings of conscious life in the story of the Garden.

Exhibit 15. Symbols of the Garden of Eden. The symbols from the Garden of Eden can be interpreted to correspond to the psyche (Exhibit 14) and to the generic systems diagram (Exhibit 12 ).The tree of knowledge of good and evil (K) corresponds to the ego and development of human consciousness. The serpent (S) in the tree symbolizes the shadow subprocessor. The tree of life (L) is the self from which flows the rivers of life (R). The anima (animus) is a creativity subprocessor (C), here represented by a blossom from one of the trees "pleasant to the sight."

In his theory of the psyche, Jung describes the Shadow as that center, or complex, of psychic energy which is energized by our repressions and frustrations. The association between Shadow and serpent in this context is particularly curious. Is it mere coincidence that in the phrase "image of God", image (tselem) relates to shadow? We are in some sense, built in the shadow of God, and the shadow of God is in us, working creatively both in the positive and negative aspects of life.

The symbols and feelings which arise from the Shadow are not evil in themselves, nor is the person evil who has dark feelings. Feelings are symptoms of the state of balance of the psyche, and undiagnosed and untreated by our consciousness, they may indeed give rise to evil. However, if we are to be evil, we must choose to be so, for evil is a disease of human consciousness, not of human life itself. Evil is the fruit of our conscious choices, a product of the tree of knowledge of good and evil.

Yet evil is not merely an individual failing. It has a collective dimension. Even our most minor unethical acts accumulate and resonate within the life system to be amplified by those of others, eventually "deforming" the balance, and requiring more and more energy to maintain the balance. The result is tension within the social and ecological systems which usually rises steadily until it can be explosively and tragically dispelled. Such suffering is no "act of God", but is the collective act of all of us, and it will continue until we grasp the lessons of life dynamics and set to work collectively, without regard to sectarian rivalries, to diagnose and treat this worst of our "social diseases."

When we describe the ethical problem as Good polarized against Evil, as on a teeter-totter, we create a difficulty in visualizing the remedy for evil. If that is our model, achieving an ethical balance might then require less "good", or more "evil", according to the situation.

A better model is to see the Good as the condition of balance. The ethical action is the force applied to either end of the board just sufficient to restore balance. Evil is any deliberate force, even a slight one, which destroys life's balance. With such a model, we would be less likely to think that the balanced Good can ever be achieved by responding to evil with evil. Even when force is required against force, we will be better able to visualize the necessary stopping point.

Exhibit 16. Ethics Models. We have traditionally viewed good and evil as forces in contention on the balance beam of life (1) but on that sort of teeter-totter, some situations might call for less good or more evil. It is better to understand life as the natural Good which seeks its own (divinely ordered) dynamic balance (2), which our conscious actions must support. Ethics is the opposing force to evil, otherwise we end up in a stable but terminal condition (3).

In terms of depth psychology, there is always a tension between the conscious Ego and the unconscious homeostatic Self. Jung refers to the mechanism for resolving that tension as the "transcendent function" of the psyche. The Ego and the Shadow can put up fierce resistance to resolving that tension.

The message of the story of the Garden is much the same. After eating the fruit of the tree of ethical knowledge, mankind is banished from the precincts of the tree of life, "and at the east of the garden of Eden [God] placed the cherubim, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to guard the way to the tree of life." (Gn 3:24)

In depth psychology, angels (e.g. cherubim) symbolize the operation of the transcendent function. The Self sends out messengers to call the Ego to acknowledge the divinely ordered balance of inner life, so that reconciliation may be achieved. But in the story of the Garden, is not the tree of life closed off forever?

The presence of the cherubim and the flaming sword do seem to represent an impenetrable defense, and if that were the only story of angels, we might despair. However, the scriptural message as a whole is one of hope. Could it be that the angel Jacob wrestled with was one of the ones at the gate to the Garden of life? Could it have been that angel who announced to Mary the divine presence within herself? Or one of those who ministered to Jesus in his wilderness trial? Or who in Revelation was among the cherubim singing "Glory!" around the throne of triumph over the forces of darkness?

If this analysis is valid, we are not condemned forever by original sin. The problem of evil is not insolvable. In the synthesis of our understandings of religion and the natural order, we can begin to approach a treatment, within ourselves and within the global body of humankind.

Exhibit 17. The Great Commandment. The systems view enlarges our understanding of the Great Commandment. Love is the "system" which must encompass our concept of God and which must be allowed to govern the interactions between ourselves and the remainder of creation. The inter-relatedness of all things, seen in the systems view of creation, indicates that All-that-is is now our neighbor. All-that-is exists within the divine reality. Love is one of several possible descriptions of that divine reality.

But it is especially in the spiritual understanding of the transcendent function as love that ethics finds its best message of hope. Spiritually, ethics does not consist in blindly and fundamentalistically following absolute laws. Jesus' message is exactly the contrary.

Jesus teaches that all such law is summed into "two commandments", and he implies a third. "Thou shalt love" (1) God, and (2) thy neighbor as (3) thyself. But since each of these is so closely related and interdependent, this formula reduces to only one law. Jesus has really summed ethics into the one commandment, "Thou shalt Love." Love, too, is an act of consciousness.

[ Previous ] , [ Next ]

[ Exhibit 15. Symbols of the Garden of Eden ]
[ Exhibit 16. Ethics models]
[ Exhibit 17. The Great Commandment ]

[ Notes and References ] , [ Glossary ]

[ Contents: Religion Confronting Science ] , [TOP]