When nineteenth century French scholar Pierre-Simon Laplace was asked by Napolean how God fit into academic equations, he famously responded, “I have no need of that hypothesis.” Though he was quick to admit that what humans know about our existence is extremely limited and what we don’t know about it is immense, many have used his quote to contemplate our own needs in understanding, in knowledge, in wisdom, in faith, and even in our existence as human beings. He had no need for God. I do.
I am one who will quickly admit not only that I need God but that I also need religion. I need them badly. God is what helps me make sense out of everything from coincidences to dreams to unusual connections with people to moments of spiritual intrigue. Religion is what gives me structure to express my belief and to remember that I am not alone in it. It helps me appreciate beauty, goodness, and truth as connecting points between what is earthen and what is divine. I am surrounded by others who need the same hypothesis and who find solace, comfort, and hope there. The more I live this earthly existence, the more I am tuned in to a spirituality that unites me to the Holy Spirit’s gifts of knowledge, understanding, wisdom, right judgment, good counsel, piety, and standing in awe of a mystery we cannot possibly grasp. Rather than seeking how God fits into the academic equations, I simply exist in the immense mystery of what I don’t know and what I need.
Others who consider this hypothesis may look to the stars in the night sky and consider the wonders of all that is out there, things seen and unseen, things visible at certain times yet invisible at others. Ancient ancestors thought that gods existed in such places. With the world’s attention on Paris this summer in celebration of the Olympics, we get reminded of the origin of the games in Greece and how the imperial gods looked down from Mount Olympus where they were thought to reside. The twelve Olympic gods, like the twelve Tribes of Israel and the twelve Apostles of Christianity, encourage followers to strive in imitation of them. When the torch is lit to begin the games at each opening ceremony, the Greek words, citius, altius, fortius,(faster, higher, stronger) are proclaimed. We want to do better this time around. Athletes want to perform their best, using the seemingly divine gifts bestowed upon them, and we, people of faith, want to do better utilizing the graces God has entrusted to us. The flame is also a message to the world: that the nations of earth can do better, too, in understanding one another, in sharing the globe, and living in harmony and peace. Olympic athletes were thought to be like gods in physical ability and Christians seek to be like Jesus, our God, in how we act and compete in life. It is our faith that, beyond earth, we will be with God, and we will be like God. It is quite a hypothesis.
If I was given the rare blessing to be an Olympic athlete, I’d like to be as the guys in Chariots of Fire who realized that God made them fast and gave them a power from within to see the race to its end—and they felt God’s pleasure when they ran. But since I’m not of that rare breed, I’d like to be like Saint Paul, coach of Christians, who competed well, fought the good fight, finished the race, and kept the faith to the end so that he could cross the finish line and merit a crown of victory. But for that, too, I know I need God.
