"The Whole is Greater..."
A sermon by Rev. Charles Blustein Ortman
October 25, 2009
READINGS: ANCIENT & MODERN
Our first reading is from the Hindu tradition.
Mahavakyas are "Great Sayings" of the Upanishads, the
foundational texts of the Vedas, precurser of Hinduism. The Hindu
Swami, or teacher, Krishnananda said that the Maha-vakyas convey
the essential teaching of the Upanishads, namely, [that] Reality
is One, and the individual is essentially identical with it. The
identification of the self, known as Atman, with the Absolute, known
as Brahman, is not an act of bringing together two dif-fering natures,
but is an affirmation that absoluteness or universality includes
everything, and there is nothing outside of it."
The ancient Upanishad reads:
As is the atom, so is the universe;
As is the human body, so is the cosmic body;
As is the human mind, so is the cosmic mind;
As is the microcosm, so is the macrocosm.
Our modern reading is from David Joseph Bohm, a 20th Century,
U.S.-born, British quantum physicist who made significant contributions
in the fields of theoretical physics, philosophy and neuropsychology,
as well as to the Manhattan Project. He wrote:
Indeed, to some extent it has always been necessary and proper for
[a person], in [their] thinking, to divide things up. If we tried
to deal with the whole of reality at once, we would be swamped.
However when this mode of thought is applied more broadly to [a
person's] notion of [them self] and the whole world in which [they]
live, (i.e. in [their] world-view) then the [person] ceases to regard
the resultant divisions as merely useful or convenient and begins
to see and experience [them self] and this world as actually consti-tuted
of separately existing fragments. What is needed is a relativistic
theory, to give up altogether the notion that the world is constituted
of basic objects or building blocks. Rather one has to view the
world in terms of [a single] universal flux of events and proc-esses.
SERMON:
Some of you may be aware that took a cross-country bicycle trip
this past spring. Since then, I delivered a series of sermons based
on some of the experiences from that trip. Some of you may have
been here for some of those. If you were here for the last one on
October 4th, you heard me promise that the series was over. I did
warn that maybe a few other experiences from that trip might slip
into future sermons from time to time. So I would say this morning,
here we are - slip sliding away.
I've said many times since returning, without exaggeration or understatement,
that while I may have ridden my bike across the continent - and
I think I get an A for endurance - I am really a very slow bicyclist.
Frankly, I think I deserve an F for speed. That's not a shameful
experience for me; it's just the truth of it. I'm slow; I have these
thick German legs that don't run or pedal very fast.
That not withstanding, I enjoy watching other cyclists go fast.
I love watching the Tour de France each summer on TV. This year
I was especially tuned in, having gained some notion of what it
takes to get up and down all those mountains. In the past, I was
always amazed at how closely together those phenomenal racers all
rode together in the main pack (the peloton, for you in the know).
I always figured that any draft advantage gained by the reduction
of wind resis-tance by the pack was negligible in comparison to
the danger posed by someone bumping into someone else. I don't think
that anymore.
Back in May, we were riding our bikes through the state of Missouri,
towards its capital, Jefferson City, on U.S. Highway 54. We began
the day somewhere near the town of Camdenton. The weather was clear,
no rain, no fog, sun shining. But, it almost goes without saying,
there was an implacable headwind blowing smack into our faces at
about 40 mph. It's exhausting riding into a 40 mph wind. Energy
is used up at a pretty fast clip. So Kriss and Bill, my two riding
companions, and I decided that we would pool our power resources
by riding in a tight formation.
The wind was actually coming at a slight angle, a bit to the left
of our center. Taking a lesson from the flying V-formation that
we'd all seen geese and ducks use, we tucked into a half of a V.
The lead rider rode out on the shoulder, nearest to the road, followed
closely by a line formed by the other two riders, slanting back
and out, across the shoulder toward the ditch. We stayed like that,
tightly tucked in a line that pointed directly into the wind. Unlike
Moses who parted the waters of the Red Sea before him, we were more
like Jonah's whale, opening up a wake in the wind that trailed behind
us.
Green mileage markers along the side of the road facilitated our
evenly distributed rotation of order on a mile-by-mile basis. As
we passed each mark, the lead rider would drop off to the back of
the line and snuggle in close. The other two riders moved forward.
We kept up this rotation throughout the morning and for most of
the afternoon. In the lead position riding was as brutal as it would
have been if any of us had been riding in that wind all alone. But
in both the two rear positions it was almost as if there was no
wind at all. A little miracle of geometry, you might say!
So, we'd each spent a third of our time getting exhausted, and
then the other two thirds getting rested up and then getting ready
for the next time it was our turn to push to the front. It wasn't
as though the back positions provided a free ride while any of us
were in them. We had to pay a lot of attention to our speed and
the interval of the space between us, so that we wouldn't crash
into each other or fall out of the draft that we'd created. Occasionally,
we'd have to call out a warning to the one another, but the truth
is, for the most part, we were riding as a unit, a single unit,
quite in synch with one another and with our shared task of moving
ahead.
When we were in the midst of that experience, all of our attention
was attuned to being in the experience itself. In retrospect though,
there was more; there was a lot to appreciate. We were amazed at
how well it had all gone, how well we had worked together and how
close we had grown to each other through the challenge of our experience.
I remember learning in high school geometry class that, "the
whole is equal to the sum of its parts." I know that definition
is still being taught in high schools. There's a question on the
New York State Regents Exam, and if students say otherwise, they
get marked wrong. If I were to take that test today, and I answered
that question honestly, I would get it wrong. I'd have to say that
I believe the whole is equal to way more. It's greater than the
sum of its parts. And my experience riding bicycles in a half V-formation
into the wind is all the proof of that I need.
There were earlier days and other winds on the trip when we did
not ride in formation. I can tell you, when we rode into the wind
without being in our formation, it was a lot more wearing on all
of us. So the mathematic equations we're working with here could
go something like:
1 rider + 1 rider + 1 rider = 3 efforts = 1 whole,
which is equal to the sum of its parts
Or
3 riders x 1 unison formation = 1 common effort = 1 whole,
which is greater than the sum of its three parts
In case I've lost you along the way in this illustration, there's
another way of looking at this geometrically. Instead of a V, it
involves arcs and circles. The arc is a very strong formation. The
Romans put it to work in all their architecture; arches can be seen
throughout the antiquities of the Roman Empire. So, let's say you
have a bunch of arcs lying around, like maybe six arcs all of the
same size. Six arcs would be nice to have. You could probably achieve
untold accomplishments using those six arcs individually. The sum
total of those six arcs would be one collection, or one set of six
arcs. That's a whole, one whole set of six arcs.
But let's say that those six equal arcs each have a curve of 60º,
and we don't just add them up but we put them together, end-to-end.
Voila! We have a whole now that's more than just a set of arcs;
it's a circle. This new whole is a new creation; it's the formation
of a new shape. The individual arcs that once existed have been
reconstituted and now amount to something more than a bunch of arcs
in a set. This new whole can be seen as greater than the sum of
its parts.
Well, you know how the sciences go. One science leads to another,
and in this case geometry leads to theology. There are at least
two theological models that come to mind that speak to this idea
of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. They are the
Henry Nelson Wieman branch of process theology, and the Hindu concepts
of Atman and Brahman.
My lifetime favorite theologian, Henry Nelson Wieman was a Unitarian
academic hired by the University of Chicago Divinity School in the
1950's. He was brought on to explain the teachings of Alfred North
Whitehead to the rest of the U of C Divinity School faculty. But
Wieman had a rather marvelous take on Process Theology of his own.
Wieman described the divine process as the unfolding of the universe,
creative interchange by creative interchange. He defined the creative
interchange, at least on the human level, as that process which
occurs when two or more persons come together for open exchange
of energy, ideas or experience, and, in the process of that interchange,
are transformed by the event in unpredictable and creative ways
that promote meaning and depth of experience, of life and even of
history.
Three bicycle riders joining in formation might be an example of
that. So might be the experience of two people falling in love.
So might be the chance meeting of a couple of scientists who go
on to discover a cure for cancer or Alzheimer's, or some other disease.
So might be the coming together of spiritual seekers who are transformed
by their shared experience. So might be so many unlimited possibilities
of people coming together, where the possibilities of goodness in
their lives and in the world are multiplied as a result. So might
it be an example of creative interchange that we experience here,
as a result of our coming together in this room for this pur-pose
today. In all of these, the whole is greater than the sum of its
parts.
A somewhat different theological take on this same theme is the
relationship of the Hindu con-cepts of Atman and Brahman. Let me
repeat some of the words from the introduction of our first reading:
"…the essential teaching of the Upanishads, namely, [that]
Reality is One, and the individual is essentially identical with
it. The identification of the self, [is] known as Atman, [identification]
with the Absolute, [is] known as Brahman. [This] is not an act of
bringing together two differing natures, but is an affirmation that
absoluteness or universality includes everything, and there is nothing
outside of it."
The words seem to say that there is really no difference between
Atman and Brahman; that they are the same nature. And yet Atman
is the soul nature of self, and Brahman is the soul nature of the
absolute, the universe, of All-That-Is, of the largest whole.
It's impossible for us to deny that we are self; we are born into
self-consciousness, into self-awareness. And yet we limit ourselves
to the point of crippling our souls, when we fail to make the connections
that unite us to one another and to All-That-Is. It is when we participate
in that larger whole, when we allow ourselves to be a part of that
sum which is greater, when we come together increasing the possibilities
of goodness for ourselves and for others, it is then we approach
the divinely creative process, the Brahman spirit in which we are
one.
This is all well and good you might be saying to yourself, but
how in the world does it matter? As far as using this opportunity
of a lifetime to grow our souls is concerned, I imagine it could
hardly matter more. I'm talking about a lot more than creating an
opportunity to make it easier to ride a bicycle into a headwind.
Although, I don't see even that as being insignificant. We live
in a culture that dysfunctionally encourages isolation. We would
do well to study models of cooperation that increase collaboration
and decrease stress and loneliness.
What we are talking about though, has a wide variety of applications,
theological and spiritual applications that range from the individual
to the planet, for creating wholeness that is greater than the sum
of its parts. This would include the difference between having our
lives scattered over myriad projects, multitasking the various experiences
that ought to provide a depth of meaning to our lives on one hand
and gathering up those pieces into a centered and focused, a faithful
and hopeful whole on the other hand. This would include the difference
between individual spirituality, an expression of Atman on one hand,
and a gathering together in religious community, a step in the direction
of Brahman on the other. This would include the added depth of our
experience because of the relationships within the community in
which it is shared. This would include the impact and the effectiveness
a congregation - gathered together - might have on promoting the
well-being of the larger community, about the justice it can accomplish
be-cause of the larger common effort brought to bear on injustice.
What we are talking about would include encouraging an end to oppression
by promoting growth, moving from separation to communion. We can
accomplish more together. We can build faith, hope and love together
in ways that cannot be accomplished in isolation.
And in the end, if we are true to the larger whole, when we reach
our end, we will have lived lives that will have had greater meaning
- for us - and we pray for the world. And as we approach that end,
I trust, there might be a comfort for us in knowing we have lived
for something more, something greater than ourselves. And in that
comfort, I trust, there will be the hope that, yet again even as
our life is waning, we are approaching one more possibility of a
greater whole into which we are emerging.
Human, divine. Atman, Brahman. Having lived it all along, we pray
that we might pass into the unknown mystery, paying attention as
we go into some kind of larger formation, wherein we will do our
part letting go, and then ride with some amount of ease into the
unknown, into the universal flux of events and processes.
The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. If we practice
it, we can live it. If we live it, perhaps we will be blest when
the time comes and die into it. And, all of that together, I trust
will have made the whole journey worthwhile.
As is the atom, so is the universe;
As is the human body, so is the cosmic body;
As is the human mind, so is the cosmic mind;
As is the microcosm, so is the macrocosm. (--The Upanishads)
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