Time for some schoolbook philosophy!

I read something recently about the philosopher Rene Descartes – who was fascinated by what it meant to be, what it was possible to know and what could be described as truth?

Descartes decided to begin by doubting everything he possibly could – to see if he could reduce the knowable to an essential core. He found he could doubt everything – God, the existence of the world about us (which could be an elaborate deceit placed on our consciousness by some demon – a kind of precursor to The Matrix), the rules of science and gravity – all these were dependent on our perception, and perception was ultimately unreliable and subjective.

This led him to his ultimate point of truth – his own ability to ask these very questions – it was not possible to doubt this, as in order to doubt, then this too involved thought. Hence, his famous phrase, “I think, therefore, I am.”

Descartes then turned his mind back to time. We live our lives in the passing of time – in a finite space. We have our beginning, and our ending, and find our existence in between. He was convinced that God was infinite – outside our understanding of time. However much we might think we know of God, we must equally realise that there is so much more. He concluded that as our experience is formed in our finite world, then the very fact that we could imagine the infinite must be proof in itself of the very existence of God – for no finite being could, of itself, think of the infinite.

Descartes thinking influenced an age. Whether or not you agree with his conclusions, the very questions he asked have dominated modernity. They are perhaps being asked again as we stand on the brink of a new age.

What am I?

What can I know, and how do I know it is true?

Perhaps for we Christians, there remains another set of questions – perhaps the greatest ones of all;

Who is God?

Can God be known?

Can God ever know me, in the vastness of this apparently infinite universe?

If so, what should be my response?

Are we all heading home anyway, one way or another?

Or is there a responsibility that we are called to – a way of life that is more vital, more blessed, more beautiful?

In the Bible, we read of generations of people of faith – from the nomadic wanderings of the people of Abraham, to the subjects of the mighty (but ultimately fragile) Roman Empire – asking these questions.

The amazing thing about all these stories was that apparently, God, as well as existing in infinite space, was also always there.

There he was, moving across the face of the waters when all was formless and void.
Walking in the garden in the quiet of the evening.
Speaking out of burning bushes (and resting on people with tongues of fire later.)
Even being willing to dwell inside a tent, or an unwanted temple building.
Ultimately, coming himself, in fragile human form. Walking amongst us, revealing something of his heart – inviting participation in a new way of being.

Then promising that the eternal will dwell within us.
That we would become temples of his Spirit – capsules containing something uncontainable, immeasurable, unfathomable.

Kind of amazing, ain’t it?