From: The Cosmic Vision of Teilhard de Chardin by John F Haught pp 172-174 (Redacted slightly.)
Theologies that center on the idea of atonement have, of course, been influenced especially by the biblical story of Adam and Eve—by the account of their transgression and the penalty of expulsion from paradise. This myth is an expression of what philosopher Paul Ricoeur calls the “ethical vision of existence.” It entails a worldview that, as it has been interpreted throughout the centuries, attributes the existence of suffering mostly to human guilt. The ethical vision assumes that, wherever suffering exists, it must have been caused by human acts of disobedience. Guilt, therefore, must be paid for in the sterling of suffering and punishment in order to balance the books. Consequently, a tendency toward scapegoating has come into human history—and still exists—as the tragic underside of the atonement strain of biblical theology. One of the sad consequences of expiatory religious thought is that it may lead people to look for culprits and to engage in violent acts of retribution wherever suffering shows up. The expiatory vision is intended to provide an answer to the problem of life’s suffering, but it ends up contributing even more misery—especially in the form of self-hatred—to the cumulative history of suffering on earth. Teilhard is deeply disturbed by the narrowness of such a perspective. He is not denying that life is sacrificial. What he is questioning is the entrenched religious habit of associating suffering with atonement. This association only compounds the fact of suffering in the universe. For Teilhard, suffering is real, but it is not rendered intelligible by being interpreted solely as punishment. At a cosmic level of understanding, suffering is a form of information—negative feedback—picked up especially by sentient subjects. Suffering informs us humans that the universe is unfinished and is still coming into being. It can be redeemed only if the universe has a future in which all tears are dried, and death is no more.
Consequently, what needs explaining theologically—even more than the fact of suffering—is why God would create an unfinished universe to begin with. Teilhard’s answer is that, if God is love, an initially completed universe is theologically inconceivable. This is because an initially finished or perfect creation, if one could imagine it, would be frozen everlastingly into a finalized block. It would have no room for more-being, that is, for a future. A finished universe would be dead on arrival, for in its primal completeness it would leave no room for freedom, for human creativity, or even for life. An initially finished universe would have no room for suffering, but it would not be truly other than God. It would not be a distinct world at all, but instead an appendage to God’s being. An initially finished or perfected creation would be incompatible with God’s need for something other than God to love. This is why the new post-Einsteinian cosmology, contrary to those who dismiss its theological importance, is significant for implying that the universe is still coming into being. Such a universe, logically speaking, does away in principle with the atonement explanation of suffering as punishment for a culprit’s spoiling of an initial perfection.
Einstein himself, incidentally, did not take to the idea of an imperfect universe. In his eyes, its exquisite underlying geometry was enough to make the universe perfect forever. I believe this is partly why Einstein never conceived of the universe as a drama of awakening. Most cosmologists, contrary to Einstein, have now concluded that the universe’s original state was one of simplicity, not perfection, and that it will eventually die by energy exhaustion. The idea of a static, originally “finished” creation had previously allowed theologians to assume that evil and suffering exist because the imagined paradisal perfection must have been violated by an initial transgression. So, if a completed creation existed in the beginning and afterward became defiled by human guilt, then we would automatically look for someone or something to blame for such a breach. Then suffering could easily be interpreted as a penalty for the original transgression, and we would be inclined to picture redemption as a return to paradise. If one assumes an originally perfect creation followed by an initial transgression, this would seem to justify a proportionate penalty being imposed on the culprits in the currency of suffering. Before geology, evolutionary biology, and Big Bang cosmology came along, it was far simpler for theology and Christian spirituality to interpret suffering as essentially punishment than it is in the light of contemporary cosmology. No matter how tidy and appealing the classical expiatory theology of redemption may initially appear to be as an answer to the question of suffering, it has fostered a history of self-righteous blaming, witch-hunting, and revenge.
"We live in a mixture of cultures looking for the face of God in humble face.: B.B.