But often, in the world’s most crowded streets,
But often, in the din of strife,
There rises an unspeakable desire
After the knowledge of our buried life:
A thirst to spend our fire and restless force
In tracking out our true, original course;
A longing to inquire
Into the mystery of this heart which beats
So wild, so deep in us—to know
Whence our lives come and where they go.
IN THE LATE NINETEENTH CENTURY Stephen Crane captured our plight as we in the early twenty-first century face the universe.
A man said to the universe:
“Sir, I exist.”
“However,” replied the universe,
“The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.”1
How different this is from the words of the ancient psalmist, who looked around himself and up to God and wrote:
LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory
in the heavens.
Through the praise of children and infants
you have established a stronghold against your enemies,
to silence the foe and the avenger.
When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set in place,
what is mankind that you are mindful of them,
human beings that you care for them?
You have made them a little lower than the angels
and crowned them with glory and honor.
You made them rulers over the works of your hands;
you put everything under their feet:
all flocks and herds,
and the animals of the wild,
the birds in the sky,
and the fish in the sea,
all that swim the paths of the seas.
LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth! (Psalm 8)
There is a world of difference between the worldviews of these two poems. Indeed, they propose alternative universes. Yet both poems reverberate in the minds and souls of people today. Many who stand with Stephen Crane have more than a memory of the psalmist’s great and glorious assurance of God’s hand in the cosmos and God’s love for his people. They long for what they no longer can truly accept. The gap left by the loss of a center to life is like the chasm in the heart of a child whose father has died. How those who no longer believe in God wish something could fill this void!
And many who yet stand with the psalmist and whose faith in the Lord God Jehovah is vital and brimming still feel the tug of Crane’s poem. Yes, that is exactly how it is to lose God. Yes, that is just what those who do not have faith in the infinite-personal Lord of the Universe must feel—alienation, loneliness, even despair.
We recall the struggles of faith in our nineteenth-century forebears and know that for many, faith was the loser. As Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote in response to the death of his close friend,
Behold, we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last—far off—at last, to all
And every winter change to spring.
So runs my dream; but what am I?
An infant crying in the night;
An infant crying for the light;
And with no language but a cry.2
For Tennyson, faith eventually won out, but the struggle was years in being resolved.
The struggle to discover our own faith, our own worldview, our beliefs about reality, is what this book is all about. Formally stated, the purposes of this book are (1) to outline the basic worldviews that underlie the way we in the Western world think about ourselves, other people, the natural world, and God or ultimate reality; (2) to trace historically how these worldviews have developed from a breakdown in the theistic worldview, moving in turn into deism, naturalism, nihilism, existentialism, Eastern mysticism, the new consciousness of the New Age, and Islam, a recent infusion from the Middle East; (3) to show how postmodernism puts a twist on these worldviews; and (4) to encourage us all to think in terms of worldviews—that is, with a consciousness of not only our own way of thought but also that of other people—so that we can first understand and then genuinely communicate with others in our pluralistic society. That is a large order. In fact it sounds very much like the project of a lifetime. My hope is that it will be just that for many who read this book and take seriously its implications. What is written here is only an introduction to what might well become a way of life.
In writing this book I have found it especially difficult to know what to include and what to leave out. But because I see the whole book as an introduction, I have tried rigorously to be brief—to get to the heart of each worldview, suggest its strengths and weaknesses, and move to the next. I have, however, indulged my own interest by including textual and bibliographical footnotes that will, I trust, lead readers into greater depths than the chapters themselves. Those who wish first to get at what I take to be the heart of the matter can safely ignore them. But those who wish to go it on their own (may their name be legion!) may find the footnotes helpful in suggesting further reading and further questions for investigation.
WHAT IS A WORLDVIEW?
Despite the fact that such philosophical names as Plato, Kant, Sartre, Camus, and Nietzsche will appear on these pages, this book is not a work of professional philosophy. And though I will refer time and again to concepts made famous by the apostle Paul, Augustine, Aquinas, and Calvin, this is not a work of theology. Furthermore, though I will frequently point out how various worldviews are expressed in various religions, this is not a book on comparative religion.3 Each religion has its own rites and liturgies, its own peculiar practices and aesthetic character, its own doctrines and turns of expression. Rather, this is a book of worldviews—in some ways more basic, more foundational than formal studies in philosophy, theology, or comparative religion.4 To put it yet another way, it is a book of universes fashioned by words and concepts that work together to provide a more or less coherent frame of reference for all thought and action.5
Few people have anything approaching an articulate philosophy—at least as epitomized by the great philosophers. Even fewer, I suspect, have a carefully constructed theology. But everyone has a worldview. Whenever any of us thinks about anything—from a casual thought (Where did I leave my watch?) to a profound question (Who am I?)—we are operating within such a framework. In fact, it is only the assumption of a worldview—however basic or simple—that allows us to think at all.6
A worldview (or vision of life) is a framework or set of fundamental beliefs through which we view the world and our calling and future in it. This vision need not be fully articulated: it may be so internalized that it goes largely unquestioned; it may not be explicitly developed into a systematic conception of life; it may not be theoretically deepened into a philosophy; it may not even be codified into creedal form; it may be greatly refined through cultural-historical development. Nevertheless, this vision is a channel for the ultimate beliefs which give direction and meaning to life. It is the integrative and interpretative framework by which order and disorder are judged; it is the standard by which reality is managed and pursued; it is the set of hinges on which all our everyday thinking and doing turns.
James H. Olthuis, “On Worldviews,” in
Stained Glass: Worldviews and Social Science
What, then, is this thing called a worldview that is so important to all of us? I’ve never even heard of one. How could I have one? That may well be the response of many people. One is reminded of M. Jourdain in Jean-Baptiste Molière’s The Bourgeois Gentleman, who suddenly discovered he had been speaking prose for forty years without knowing it. But to discover one’s own worldview is much more valuable. In fact, it is a significant step toward self-awareness, self-knowledge, and self-understanding.
So what is a worldview? Essentially this:
A worldview is a commitment, a fundamental orientation of the heart, that can be expressed as a story or in a set of presuppositions (assumptions which may be true, partially true, or entirely false) that we hold (consciously or subconsciously, consistently or inconsistently) about the basic constitution of reality, and that provides the foundation on which we live and move and have our being.7
This succinct definition needs to be unpacked. Each phrase represents a specific characteristic that deserves more elaborate comment.
Worldview as a commitment. The essence of a worldview lies deep in the inner recesses of the human self. A worldview involves the mind, but it is first of all a commitment, a matter of the soul. It is a spiritual orientation more than it is a matter of mind alone.
Worldviews are, indeed, a matter of the heart. This notion would be easier to grasp if the word heart bore in today’s world the weight it bears in Scripture. The biblical concept includes the notions of wisdom (Proverbs 2:10), emotion (Exodus 4:14; John 14:1), desire and will (1 Chronicles 29:18), spirituality (Acts 8:21), and intellect (Romans 1:21).8 In short, and in biblical terms, the heart is “the central defining element of the human person.”9 A worldview, therefore, is situated in the self—the central operating chamber of every human being. It is from this heart that all one’s thoughts and actions proceed.
Expressed in a story or a set of presuppositions. A worldview is not a story or a set of presuppositions, but it can be expressed in these ways. When I reflect on where I and the whole of the human race have come from or where my life or humanity itself is headed, my worldview is being expressed as a story. One story told by science begins with the Big Bang and proceeds through the evolution of the cosmos, the formation of the galaxies, stars, and planets, the appearance of life on earth, and on to its disappearance as the universe runs down. Christians tell the story of creation, fall, redemption, glorification—a story in which Jesus’ birth, death, and resurrection are the centerpiece. Christians see their lives and the lives of others as tiny chapters in that master story. The meaning of those little stories cannot be divorced from the master story, and some of this meaning is propositional. When, for example, I ask myself what I am really assuming about God, humans, and the universe, the result is a set of presuppositions that I can express in propositional form.
When they are expressed that way, they answer a series of basic questions about the nature of fundamental reality. I will list and examine these questions shortly. But consider first the nature of those assumptions.
Assumptions that may be true, conscious, consistent. The presuppositions that express one’s commitments may be true, partially true, or entirely false. There is, of course, a way things are, but we are often mistaken about the way things are. In other words, reality is not endlessly plastic. A chair remains a chair whether we recognize it as a chair or not. Either there is an infinitely personal God or there is not. But people disagree on which is true. Some assume one thing; others assume another.
Second, sometimes we are aware of what our commitments are, sometimes not. Most people, I suspect, do not go around consciously thinking of people as organic machines, yet those who do not believe in any sort of God actually assume, consciously or not, that that is what they are. Or they assume that they do have some sort of immaterial soul and treat people that way, and are thus simply inconsistent in their worldview. Some people who do not believe in anything supernatural at all wonder whether they will be reincarnated. So, third, sometimes our worldviews—both those characterizing small or large communities and those we hold as individuals—are inconsistent.
The foundation on which we live. It is important to note that our own worldview may not be what we think it is. It is rather what we show it to be by our words and actions. Our worldview generally lies so deeply embedded in our subconscious that unless we have reflected long and hard, we are unaware of what it is. Even when we think we know what it is and lay it out clearly in neat propositions and clear stories, we may well be wrong. Our very actions may belie our self-knowledge.
Because this book focuses on the main worldview systems held by very large numbers of people, this private element of worldview analysis will not receive much further commentary. If we want clarity about our own worldview, however, we must reflect and profoundly consider how we actually behave.
EIGHT BASIC QUESTIONS
If a worldview can be expressed in propositions, what might they be? Essentially, they are our basic, rock-bottom answers to the following questions:
1. What is prime reality—the really real? To this we might answer: God, or the gods, or the material cosmos. Our answer here is the most fundamental.10 It sets the boundaries for the answers that can consistently be given to the other questions. This will become clear as we move from worldview to worldview in the chapters that follow.
2. What is the nature of external reality (that is, the world around us)? Here our answers point to whether we see the world as created or autonomous, as chaotic or orderly, as matter or spirit; or whether we emphasize our subjective, personal relationship to the world or its objectivity apart from us.
3. What is a human being? To this we might answer: a highly complex machine, a sleeping god, a person made in the image of God, a naked ape.
4. What happens to a person at death? Here we might reply: personal extinction, or transformation to a higher state, or reincarnation, or departure to a shadowy existence on “the other side.”
5. Why is it possible to know anything at all? Sample answers include the idea that we are made in the image of an all-knowing God, or that consciousness and rationality developed under the contingencies of survival in a long process of evolution.
6. How do we know what is right and wrong? Again, perhaps we are made in the image of a God whose character is good, or right and wrong are determined by human choice alone or what feels good, or the notions simply developed under an impetus toward cultural or physical survival.
7. What is the meaning of human history? To this we might answer: to realize the purposes of God or the gods, to make a paradise on earth, to prepare a people for a life in community with a loving and holy God, and so forth.
Earlier editions of this book listed only seven questions, but these do not adequately encompass the notion of a worldview as a commitment or a matter of the heart. So I am adding the following question to flesh out the personal implications of the rather intellectual and abstract character of the first seven questions.
8. What personal, life-orienting core commitments are consistent with this worldview? Within any given worldview, core commitments may vary widely. For example, Christians might say to fulfill the will of God, or to seek first the kingdom of God, or to obey God and enjoy him forever, or to be devoted to knowing God or loving God. Each will lead to a somewhat different specific grasp of the Christian worldview. Naturalists might say to realize their personal potential for experiencing life, or to do as much good as they can for others, or to live in a world of inner peace in a world of social diversity and conflict. The question and its answers reveal the variety of ways the intellectual commitments are worked out in individual lives. They recognize the importance of seeing one’s own worldview not only within the context of vastly different worldviews but within the community of one’s own worldview. Each person, in other words, ends up having his or her own take on reality. And though it is extremely useful to identify the nature of a few (say, five to ten) generic worldviews, it is necessary in identifying and assessing one’s own worldview to pay attention to its unique features, the most important of which is one’s own answer to this eighth question.11
Within various basic worldviews other issues often arise. For example: Who is in charge of this world—God or humans or no one at all? Are we as human beings determined or free? Are we alone the makers of values? Is God really good? Is God personal or impersonal? Or does he, she, or it exist at all?
When stated in such a sequence, these questions boggle the mind. Either the answers are obvious to us and we wonder why anyone would bother to ask such questions, or else we wonder how any of them can be answered with any certainty. If we feel the answers are too obvious to consider, then we have a worldview, but we have no idea that many others do not share it. We should realize that we live in a pluralistic world. What is obvious to us may be “a lie from hell” to our neighbor next door. If we do not recognize that, we are certainly naive and provincial, and we have much to learn about living in today’s world. Alternatively, if we feel that none of the questions can be answered without cheating or committing intellectual suicide, we have already adopted a sort of worldview. The latter is a form of skepticism, which in its extreme form leads to nihilism.
The fact is that we cannot avoid assuming some answers to such questions. We will adopt either one stance or another. Refusing to adopt an explicit worldview will turn out to be itself a worldview, or at least a philosophic position. In short, we are caught. So long as we live, we will live either the examined or the unexamined life. It is the assumption of this book that the examined life is better.
So the following chapters—each of which examines a major worldview—are designed to illuminate the possibilities. We will examine the answers each worldview gives to the eight basic questions. This will give us a consistent approach to each one, help us see their similarities and differences, and suggest how each might be evaluated within its own frame of reference as well as from the standpoint of other competing worldviews.
The worldview I have adopted will be detected early in the course of the argument. But to waylay any guessing, I will declare now that it is the subject of the next chapter. Nonetheless, the book is not intended as a revelation of my worldview but an exposition and critique of the options. If in the course of this examination readers find, modify, or make more explicit their own individual worldview, a major goal of this book will have been reached.
There are many verbal or conceptual universes. Some have been around a long time; others are just now forming. Which is your universe? Which are the universes next door?
QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION AND DISCUSSION
1. Of the two poems that begin this chapter, which resonates more with your own view of the world?
2. According to the author, how is worldview a matter of the heart? What do you think of this claim?
3. Is it important to examine different worldviews, including your own? Why or why not?
4. What do you hope to learn or experience as you read the rest of The Universe Next Door?