God and the Quantum Clematis

These pretty blue blossoms are the result of Carol-Jean's dilligent work outside the Shepherd Estates on Trailwood Street in Lee's Summit.

I looked at them and displayed my vast store of botanical knowledge by asking, "Honey, what's this?"

"They're Clematis," she told me.

I said, "Nice flower."

"Vine," she said.

"Yes, divine."

"No, Clematis is a vine."

"Hmmm...still looks like a flower to me."

"Theologians," she muttered.

I began pondering the nature of Clematis as she returned to gardening. It has been a fertile Spring, for flowering vines and great student discussions at Unity Institute.

During my Unity Institute course HTS 552 Metaphysical Theology II, students divide into small teams to lead their classmates in a theological analysis of the seven basic books written by Unity co-founder Charles Fillmore. Each team gets two class periods (five total hours) to present the essence of the Fillmorean book assigned to them, a daunting task when you consider that whole courses could be taught on each book. And this is professional theological education, not a church discussion group on Thursday evenings, so the methodologies employed must reach graduate level standards.

I have taught this course for several years, and the pattern has been remarkably similar. The students have great reverence for Mr. Fillmore's accomplishments, but they often wrestle with his methods and conclusions like Jacob and the angel. That willingness to explore and critically analyze marks the boundary line one must cross to become a true professional in any field.

I repeatedly urge them to let Mr. Fillmore be who he was, without feeling the need to prove their loyalty by rescuing, rehabilitating, or repairing his ideas if he goes somewhere they cannot venture. Charles Fillmore was a 19th century man who lived in a Newtonian universe, a spiritual teacher-healer whose practice was located deep inside a conservative Christian world. I often find myself agreeing with him when he says what works but disagreeing when he tries to explain how it works. He is extraordinarily consistent throughout his writing, from the early years to the end of his life. He unwaveringly taught certain ideas--like regeneration and the dangers of sensuality--which are problematic for many people today. Despite this steadiness throughout a long life, he actively encouraged his own students to find answers which worked for them.

"Do not dogmatize in creed, or statement of Being, as a governing rule of thought and action for those who join your organization. These things are limitations, and they often prevent free development because of foolish insistence on consistency. The creed that you write today may not fit the viewpoint of tomorrow." [Twelve Powers, pp. 111-112]

I think one of the greatest examples of his spiritual genius shows itself in the inconsistent way Mr. Fillmore addresses the nature of God.

During the course of student led seminars this year, a new emphasis emerged. Students became engrossed in the historical-theological question about whether Mr. Fillmore taught that God is personal,--i.e., a Supreme Being to Whom one can and should pray--or impersonal, understood as Divine Law or Principle. (Hint: If an easy answer comes to mind, you probably haven't spent a lot of time studying the problem.)

Sometimes, Charles Fillmore speaks of God as impersonal, almost a like a Platonic philosopher discussing concepts like truth, beauty, or goodness:

"When we pray in spiritual understanding, this highest realm of man's mind contacts universal, impersonal Mind; the very mind of God is joined to the mind of man. God answers our prayers in ideas, thoughts, words; these are translated into the outer realms, in time and condition." [Christian Healing, p. 78]

Other times, he begins to sound like a mystical Catholic, like Meister Eckhart:

"Prayer is the opening of communication between the mind of man and the mind of God. Prayer is the exercise of faith in the presence and power of the unseen God. Supplication, faith, meditation,silence, concentration, are mental attitudes that enter into and form part of prayer. When one understands the spiritual character of God and adjusts himself mentally to the omnipresent God-Mind, he has begun to pray aright." [Atom-Smashing Power of Mind, pp. 11-12.]

Here he describes God as both impersonal and personal, capable of creative action (personal) yet functioning uniformly (impersonal):

"God is Mind, and man made in the image and likeness of God is Mind, because there is but one Mind, and that the Mind of God...This one and only Mind of God that we study is the only creator. It is that which originates all that is permanent; hence it is the source of all reality." [ASPM, 93.]

And again:

"Being is not only impersonal Principle as far as its inherent and undeviating laws are concerned, but also personal as far as its relation to each of us is concerned. We as individuals do actually become a focus of universal Spirit." [Revealing Word, p. 22]

One last quote:

"Our Bible plainly teaches that God implanted in man His perfect image and likeness, with executive ability to carry out all the creative plans of the Great Architect... God is free to do as He wills, and He has implanted that same freedom in man."

In the midst of their spirited discussion, I asked the class whether they heard Charles Fillmore describing God as an impersonal Principle or personal Supreme Being. Some said impersonal, some personal. Some said both. Both? How could God be both personal and impersonal? And then it hit me--quantum physics explains both the nature of the Clematis and the Fillmorean view of God.

Quantum theory holds that the observer literally shapes that which is observed. For example, if scientists try to determine whether light is a wave or a particle, the answer will depend on which phenomenon they study. Look at light as a wave, and it's a wave. Look at light as a particle, and--lo!--it's a particle. Except it can't be both; they are mutually exclusive. Yet it is.

When I look at the blue plants outside my house, what they are is determined by what I'm looking for. The Clematis climbs on my wife's white metal trellis, and therefore it is a vine. But it has big, star-shaped blooms, and that makes it a flower. (I know; it's actually a flowering vine, but I can only do the equation one way at a time. I'm Pennsylvania Dutch.)


The observer shapes what he/she sees. When I look at God as One Presence/One Power, the Principle of Being-Itself, then God is impersonal. Fillmore quotes an excerpt from Robert Browning: "What I call God...fools call Nature."


But when I stand under the night sky and look into the Cosmos and feel the Presence of Infinite Love, when I am in need of what Jewish theologian Martin Buber called the I-Thou relationship between myself and God, when my God-within reaches out and speaks to the rest of the Divine Mystery--then I recognize God as not merely personal or impersonal but transpersonal. More than impersonal and personal combined. I look at the flowering Clematis vine and celebrate the Creator-God and the Principles of Nature which produced this blue blessing by my front door.