The Multiverse and Participatory

Metaphysics

This book offers a new theological approach to the multiverse hypothesis.

With a distinctive methodology, it shows that participatory metaphysics
from ancient and medieval sources represents a fertile theological ground
on which to grapple with contemporary ideas of the multiverse.
There are three key thinkers and themes discussed in the book: Plato and
cosmic multiplicity, Aquinas and cosmic diversity, and Nicholas of Cusa and
cosmic infinity. Their insights are brought into interaction with a diverse
range of contemporary theological, philosophical, and scientific figures to
demonstrate that a participatory account of the relationship between God
and creation leads to a greater continuity between theology and the multi-
verse proposal in modern cosmology. This is in contrast to existing work on
the subject, which often assumes that the two are in conflict.
By offering a fresh way to engage theologically with multiverse theory,
this book will be a unique resource for any scholar of Religion and Science,
Theology, Metaphysics, and Cosmology.

Jamie Boulding is a Research Fellow in Theology and Science at Samford

University. He completed his PhD in Theology and Science at the University
of Cambridge.
Routledge Science and Religion Series
Series editors:
Michael S. Burdett, University of Nottingham, UK
Mark Harris, University of Edinburgh, UK

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much contemporary work in this flourishing interdisciplinary field sug-
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Islam and Evolution

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The Multiverse and Participatory Metaphysics

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The Multiverse and
Participatory Metaphysics
A Theological Exploration

Jamie Boulding
First published 2022
by Routledge
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Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa
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© 2022 Jamie Boulding
The right of Jamie Boulding to be identified as author of this work
has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of
the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or
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British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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ISBN: 978-0-367-85716-5 (hbk)

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DOI: 10.4324/9781003014553

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Contents

Acknowledgementsvii

1 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 1

1.1 Overview and purpose of the book 1
1.2 Multiverse thought: cosmology 6
1.3 Multiverse thought: theology 16
1.4 Participation 23

2 Plato on multiplicity 40
2.1 Plato on participation 41
2.2 Mary-Jane Rubenstein on multiplicity 53
2.3 Max Tegmark on mathematics 61
2.4 Verity Harte on mereology 68
2.5 Summary 75

3 Aquinas on diversity 83
3.1 Thomistic participation: general overview 84
3.2 Robin Collins on diversity 94
3.3 Don Page on beauty 101
3.4 Bernard Carr on unity 107
3.5 Summary 113

4 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 122

4.1 Cusa on participation 123
4.2 Rodney Holder on infinity 133
4.3 Catherine Keller on interrelation 140
4.4 David Albertson on mathematics 148
4.5 Summary 156
vi Contents
5 Concluding reflections 165
5.1 Plato on multiplicity 165
5.2 Aquinas on diversity 167
5.3 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 169
5.4 The value of this book’s approach 170
5.5 Future directions for theology and science 172

Bibliography 175
Index 182
Acknowledgements

This book offers a view of a participatory cosmos in which a diverse order

of signs conveys deeper meaning, and so it is fitting that the book is itself
the product of many experiences and encounters across a number of coun-
tries and institutions. My first serious engagement with the academic the-
ology and science dialogue was at the University of Edinburgh under the
supervision of Professor Mark Harris, who introduced me to the question
of the theological implications of multiverse theory and who has contin-
ued to encourage my work, including with the publication of this book
as part of Routledge’s Science and Religion series, which he co-edits with
Dr Michael Burdett. I am grateful for their input and advice, as well as for
the editorial support of Alanna Donaldson and Yuga Harini at Routledge.
Following Edinburgh, I was privileged to be given the opportunity to
focus my doctoral work on theology and multiverse theory at the University
of Cambridge, which enabled me to produce the thesis on which this book
is based. During my time at Cambridge, I was especially grateful for the
support of my supervisor, Revd Dr Andrew Davison, whose knowledge,
wisdom, and generosity of spirit were invaluable, as well as the Faraday
Institute for Science and Religion, which provided a supportive community
of friends and colleagues dedicated to furthering the dialogue between the
two fields. My PhD examiners, Professor Graham Ward of the University
of Oxford, and Revd Dr Rodney Holder of the Faraday Institute, offered
extremely insightful reflections on the thesis, which have informed aspects
of this book. Any errors of fact or argument are, of course, mine alone.
In the past two years, I have continued to participate in the theology
and science dialogue as part of two postdoctoral projects supported by
the Templeton Foundation, the first of which was hosted at the University
of Leeds and the second at Samford University. At Leeds, I was particu-
larly grateful for the support and advice of Professor Mark Wynn, who
has since been appointed to the Nolloth Professorship of the Philosophy
of the Christian Religion at the University of Oxford. At Samford, I have
been welcomed into a collegial and caring learning community by Dr Josh
Reeves and other colleagues in the Department of Biblical and Religious
Studies. In particular, I have benefited from the opportunity to discuss
viii Acknowledgements
aspects of this book with colleagues through Samford’s Center for Science
and Religion.
In addition, I wish to express my gratitude to other friends and colleagues
who have guided and supported me in important ways during my aca-
demic career, including Professor Catherine Pickstock, Professor Douglas
Hedley, Professor Simon Oliver, Professor Jacob Sherman, Dr Joel Cabrita,
Dr Taylor Cyr, Professor Michela Massimi, and Dr Hannah Valdes. I am
also thankful to Gladstone’s Library for awarding me the Richard L. Hills
Scholarship in Theology and Science in 2020, which enabled me to conduct
research and writing in a peaceful and productive environment.
As ever, I am grateful for the love and encouragement of my parents.
Above all, I am thankful for my wife Sarah, with whom I am blessed to be
sharing this part of the multiverse.
1 Introducing the multiverse
and participatory metaphysics

1.1 Overview and purpose of the book

This book offers a new theological perspective to assessing the multi-
verse hypothesis in modern cosmology, which has emerged in recent years
as a significant and often contentious topic in the contemporary theology
and science dialogue. In light of recent cosmological speculation about the
plausibility of a ‘multiverse’, a cosmic ensemble in which our own uni-
verse is just one of many, theological responses have tended to focus on
the question of whether such a multiverse might be an alternative to divine
design—or, in a limited number of more positive responses, whether a mul-
tiverse might be compatible with divine design. My starting point is that
this approach neglects the fundamental metaphysical issues entailed in the
multiverse proposal, including its suggestive entanglement of the one and
the many (a paradox which has itself been a central concern of Western the-
ological reflection), as well as its intimations of cosmic multiplicity, diver-
sity, and infinity. Given this neglect, my goal with this book is to provide
the first systematic theological engagement with the key metaphysical issues
arising from multiverse theory. To achieve this, I will bring the insights of
three pivotal participatory thinkers in the Western and Christian tradition
into interaction with a diverse group of contemporary theological, philo-
sophical, and scientific figures to demonstrate that a participatory account
of the relationship between God and creation argues for greater continuity
between theology and the multiverse proposal.
Perhaps more than any other issue in theology and science, the multi-
verse hypothesis complicates and entangles the purportedly clear divisions
between the two fields, and leads inescapably to metaphysical concerns of
more fundamental importance than the familiar and largely sterile focus
on ‘design’. In light of this, I seek to provide the first systematic response
to the challenge raised at the end of the American theologian Mary-Jane
Rubenstein’s illuminating and informative historical investigation of ‘many
worlds’ and multiverse thought in Western theology and philosophy,
Worlds Without End: The Many Lives of the Multiverse. She concludes her
study with the observation that, by virtue of its metaphysical implications,

DOI: 10.4324/9781003014553-1
2 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
the multiverse proposal ‘asks more interesting and more pressing questions
than whether the universe has been “designed” by an anthropomorphic,
extracosmic deity’.1 This book offers the first sustained response to these
metaphysical questions, while also standing as the only theological project
to argue that metaphysical participation is best able to address them. Before
introducing the book’s two central concepts of the multiverse hypothesis
and metaphysical participation, it will be helpful to offer preliminary com-
ments on the methodological approach to be followed. Since methodol-
ogy immediately raises broader questions about the nature of the study of
theology and science, which is currently the subject of intensive academic
debate, it will also be worth including initial reflections on this broader
question.

1.1.1 Methodology and initial reflections

on theology and science
In terms of its classification, this book may be placed within the broad
scope of what is commonly referred to as ‘theology and science’, an inter-
disciplinary dialogue that has been the subject of renewed academic and
popular attention in light of rapidly proliferating scientific advancements
and a corresponding theological recognition of the need to clarify religious
beliefs and concepts in light of such developments. 2 As such, the intended
audience of this book includes theologians, philosophers of religion, scien-
tists, and any other students or readers with an interest in the relationship
between theology and science in general, and the way in which theology
might bear upon multiverse thought in particular. I hope that this book
is useful in demonstrating the way in which theology might confidently
and constructively contribute to an important debate in modern physics
and cosmology. If this objective is achieved, I also hope that scientists and
others working on multiverse theory might be encouraged to view the par-
ticipatory tradition as a source of insight and illumination regarding their
own practical activities.
In terms of methodology, this book is concerned with reflecting theologi-
cally on—and offering a new theological approach to—scientific multiverse
theory. Put simply, this might be described as doing theology and science
within the form of a theological exploration, as the book’s title suggests.
While it might seem unnecessary for a theologian to clarify that he will adopt
a specifically theological approach, drawing on traditional theological cat-
egories and insights, there is an ongoing debate within the academic study
of theology and science about how best to approach this interdisciplinary
enterprise—what kind of tools to use (scientific, theological, philosophical,
historical, or otherwise), what kind of methodology to follow, and even what
kind of work is being done. To help clarify my methodology in this book,
it might be useful to discuss two other perspectives on theology and science
that stand as alternative ways of approaching the dialogue.
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 3
First, in recent years a new academic mode of investigation known as
‘science-engaged theology’ has emerged as the subject of major research
projects and networks. This approach encourages theologians to engage
directly with empirical science (perhaps through laboratory observations
and experiments), based on the assumption that the resulting ‘data and the-
ory’ might ‘enhance our understanding of key concepts in theology and the
philosophy of religion, and may in some cases enable us to evaluate, revise,
and improve theological claims’.3 The goal is to focus on the devising and
solving of narrowly focused ‘puzzles’ that call for a particular scientific
subfield to address a particular theological question that is ‘unsolvable
without the help of, at least some, empirical data’.4 For example, a suitable
theological puzzle might focus on the question of whether gluten-free bread
should be used for the Eucharist, on the basis that a working knowledge of
empirical science is required to understand and answer the question.
While ‘science-engaged theology’ is in the early stages of its develop-
ment and therefore difficult to conclusively define, it might be possible to
offer three initial observations about its potential limits, which would also
serve to clarify the different methodology adopted in this book.5 First, the
framing of theological investigations as discrete ‘puzzles’ overlooks the vast
scope, rich complexity, and limitless ambition of theology as it has been
historically understood.6 Indeed, it is difficult to see how any meaningful
theological engagement with the multiverse hypothesis—which requires
study of fundamental metaphysical questions such as multiplicity, diver-
sity, and infinity—would be possible within the strict confines of science-
engaged theology. Second, if—as science-engaged theology proponents
suggest—data and theory from the empirical sciences might provide the
basis for revising and updating theological claims, this opens its findings to
the prospect that they might be invalidated if and when the relevant science
changes. In this event, theology would be wrong-footed, which would seem
to be an inescapable risk of so closely connecting—if not subordinating—
theological inquiry to empirical science. Third, science-engaged theology,
with its emphasis on practical and empirical concerns, appears to under-
stand itself primarily as a scientific enterprise requiring highly specialised
scientific expertise,7 rather than as a way of approaching theology that is
expansive in scope and ambition and conversant with the broad historical
and philosophical resources of the Christian tradition.
Second, what might be called the ‘postmodern’ approach to theology and
science continues to be the focus of a number of influential academic inves-
tigations into the two disciplines.8 In the context of rapid scientific, social,
and cultural change, the postmodern diagnosis is that inescapable uncer-
tainty is now the defining characteristic of the human experience. From
the perspective of theology, the combination of the disruptions occasioned
by scientific progress and the decline of religious authority means that we
should be extremely doubtful about the legitimacy of our theological cate-
gories and conclusions, and perhaps even abandon the pretence that we can
4 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
say anything meaningful or coherent about God, reality, or personhood.
For example, in light of multiverse models that offer vastly expanded views
of the cosmos, the postmodern theologian might be tempted to conclude
that our perspective has been shifted and disrupted such that we can no
longer rely on any kind of human knowledge—religious or scientific—to
describe the cosmos as it really is.
As with science-engaged theology, the postmodern approach brings trou-
bling implications for the prospects of theology and science. First, the post-
modern preoccupation with uncertainty can tend too far in the direction
of nihilism—the rejection of all religious beliefs or insights, or even the
rejection of the possibility of real meaning or existence. Postmodern theo-
logians seem to delight in confusion, paradox, and uncertainty, on the basis
that this is the only valid way to approach fundamental questions in an age
of scepticism and instability. Both theology and science, though, are best
seen as truth-seeking enterprises that aim to understand and describe real-
ity. Dialogues between the two disciplines should therefore be conducted
with clarity and purpose, rather than postmodern obfuscation. Second,
postmodernism seems to draw the wrong inference from what humans can
know about God. If God can only be known indirectly, this does not mean
that theology should retreat into obscurity. Instead, it reinforces the idea
that a significant part of theology’s value lies in the impact it can make
on other disciplines, including science. Third, postmodern approaches are
often entangled with political theories that can be unhelpful, distracting, or
irrelevant from theological or scientific perspectives.
In contrast to ‘science-engaged theology’, which lets science set its terms
of reference, and ‘postmodern’ approaches to theology and science, which
tend too far in the direction of uncertainty and nihilism, my approach in
this book is to argue for a constructive, confident, and proactive theolog-
ical engagement with science. Instead of conceiving of theology as sub-
servient to science, or marginalising theology such that it risks becoming
too delineated and parochial in its aims, my objective with this book is to
demonstrate the enduring value of theological insights, particularly from
the participatory tradition. The analytical and ahistorical treatment of
philosophy, reflected in the emergent subfield of science-engaged theology,
assumes that the scientific method stands above history, culture, and tra-
ditions. Contrary to this view, I will seek to situate the fundamental mul-
tiverse themes of cosmic multiplicity, diversity, and infinity within the rich
tradition of Christian participatory metaphysics. As such, I will offer a new
and distinctive way of engaging positively with the multiverse hypothesis
and, I will ultimately suggest, with other key questions in the theology and
science dialogue in general.
To that end, I will draw on ancient and medieval resources (neglected
not only in multiverse discussions but also in the theology and science field
more generally) to show that the concept of metaphysical participation pro-
vides fertile ground on which theology can offer valuable insights within
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 5
the context of the multiverse hypothesis. I will focus specifically on the
participatory thought of the ancient Greek philosopher Plato (c. 427–c.
347 BC), the thirteenth-century Christian theologian Thomas Aquinas
(c. 1225–1274), and the German cardinal, philosopher, mathematician,
and astronomer Nicholas of Cusa (1401–1464).9 Together, I believe that
they are among the most eloquent and consequential participatory thinkers
in the history of the Western and Christian traditions. As I will explain,
Plato stands as the architect of participatory thinking as it has developed
in Western thought, Aquinas articulates in a particularly important way a
Christian view of creation that has its origins in the Platonic participatory
tradition, while Cusa further extends the conceptual limits of the tradition
as part of his imaginatively original and speculative approach. I selected
these figures not only because of their leading roles in the development
of participatory thought but also because they devote significant attention
to creation and cosmology, exploring issues that are newly relevant in the
context of modern multiverse discourse.10

1.1.2 Outline of the book

The outline of the book can be described as follows. In the remainder of this
chapter, I will introduce and examine the two central concepts under inves-
tigation: the multiverse hypothesis in modern cosmology and the notion
of metaphysical participation as it has developed in Western theology and
philosophy. Both topics will of course be further elucidated and explored
in subsequent chapters, but it would be useful to establish a general con-
ceptual framework to help situate the subsequent three chapters, which
will focus on specific thinkers and ideas. My introduction to the multiverse
proposal will be twofold: first I will outline the multiverse idea as it is dis-
cussed in cosmology, with particular reference to MIT cosmologist Max
Tegmark’s multiverse hierarchy; and second, I will review initial responses
to multiverse theory among contemporary theologians. I will then provide
a general overview of the concept of metaphysical participation, which will
be useful to establish before proceeding in the main three chapters to con-
sider specific participatory thinkers and ideas.
I will give over the three main chapters of the book to an exploration
of the three key thinkers outlined above—Plato, Aquinas, and Nicholas
of Cusa—and the relevance of their metaphysical thought to modern mul-
tiverse discourse. In addition to bringing their insights into contact with
multiverse ideas, each chapter will be based on a key theme to help anchor
and focus the discussion. For Plato, I will consider cosmic multiplicity, for
Aquinas cosmic diversity, and for Cusa cosmic infinity. This will help to
connect each thinker more closely with a specific dimension of multiverse
thought, and also provide for an overall structure that demonstrates how
multiverse thought encompasses an expansive range of themes. I will begin
each of these chapters with an extended survey of the notion of participation
6 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
as developed by the thinker in question. This will be followed by three case
studies in which the relevant participatory thought will be brought into
contact with leading academics working at the intersection of contempo-
rary theology, philosophy, and science, selected for their technical exper-
tise, their philosophical insight, and their interest in multiverse models, or
closely related concerns.
In the fifth and concluding chapter, I will provide a summary of the core
insights and arguments developed in the book, as well as reflections on the
value that I believe the book brings to the theology and science dialogue,
and final thoughts on possible future research directions in theology and
science in light of the preceding arguments.

1.2 Multiverse thought: cosmology

Modern cosmologists are increasingly receptive to the notion that the uni-
verse we inhabit is one of many, or perhaps one of an infinite set of, uni-
verses—an (as yet indeterminate) ensemble described as the ‘multiverse’.11
Although the existence of any kind of multiverse would have profound the-
ological implications, the idea has typically been invoked to address the
‘anthropic principle’ (whereby the fine-tuning of our universe is seen as
evidence of God’s existence) on the basis that, of all the existing universes,
we happen to inhabit the one with suitable physical constants for life.12
In his authoritative edited volume on multiverse thought, astronomer and
multiverse proponent Bernard Carr acknowledges that the precise meaning
of ‘multiverse’ depends on the model under consideration, though he hints
at a general definition with his observation that ‘cosmologists have come
to realize that there are many contexts in which our universe could be just
one of a (possibly infinite) ensemble of “parallel” universes in which the
physical constants vary’.13
As Tom Siegfried puts it in his historical survey of multiverse thought,
‘Multiverse is a term with multiple meanings’.14 In the absence of a firm
scientific consensus on what might constitute a ‘multiverse’, initially it
would be useful to outline the most significant multiverse theories, with
particular reference to MIT physicist Max Tegmark’s influential (and
controversial) four-level hierarchy, which draws together the core scientific
theories in a clear, compelling, and philosophically and theologically sug-
gestive manner.15

1.2.1 Scientific origins of multiverse thought

In a sense, the multiverse proposal is unremarkable insofar as it is broadly
in line with the gradual historical shift of the scientific worldview—or what
Carr refers to as the ‘outward journey’16 —from geocentric to heliocentric
to galactocentric to cosmocentric to the recent move towards a multi-
verse view.17 In the second half of the twentieth century, two key factors
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 7
prompted a turn among some cosmologists to consider the possibility of
the multiverse. First, multiverse scenarios have arisen out of developments
in cosmology and particle physics, particularly in relation to cosmologi-
cal inflation, quantum cosmology, and string theory (all of which will be
discussed later). The theory of cosmic inflation18 —whereby the universe
underwent extremely rapid expansion during its earliest stages—is central
to multiverse thought in general and the first two ‘levels’ of Tegmark’s hier-
archy in particular. In modern cosmology, inflation is used to explain the
size, uniformity, and flatness of the universe. In an inflationary multiverse
scenario, the majority of space continues to stretch forever, but some regions
stop stretching, break apart, and form spatially separate ‘bubble’ universes
with different laws of physics. Inflation is considered to be well supported
by observations,19 and its status would be further strengthened by detection
of the large-scale gravitational waves that it is said to produce. 20
Second, the existence of a multiverse may be implied in applications
of the anthropic principle. This suggests that our observation of the life-
enabling (or anthropic) fine-tunings implies a degree of necessity that we
should exist to observe the fine tunings.21 It is now widely accepted among
physicists that the physical constants governing our universe appear to be
delicately and carefully balanced to enable human life to exist. If any of the
physical constants had marginally different values, the universe would be
radically different and human life almost certainly would not have emerged.
For example, if nuclear and electromagnetic forces were slightly different in
strength, carbon atoms and therefore human life would not exist. Similarly,
if the neutron mass were any more than 0.2 percent lighter or heavier,
the conditions of the early universe would have been such that human
life would not have been possible due to an absence of hydrogen. In other
words, the physical constants appear to be perfectly—perhaps improbably
and mysteriously—conducive for humans to exist, or ‘finely tuned’.
From a religious perspective, these anthropic considerations suggest
the existence of a God who tuned the physical constants in such a way
as to enable humanity not only to exist, but to be capable of reflecting
on its own existence and of developing a relationship with God. In John
Polkinghorne’s view, the anthropic fine-tunings are not just a ‘happy acci-
dent’ but the ‘expression of the purposive design of a Creator, who has
endowed it with the finely tuned potentiality for life’. 22 Of course, this
is a contemporary and scientifically informed restatement of an ancient
theological argument—the teleological argument, or the argument from
design—in which the apparent deliberate design in the natural world is
attributed to an intelligent creator. 23 Plato’s Timaeus, which will be the
central focus of the following chapter, stands as a classical example of a
teleological vision whereby the order and harmony of the cosmos is under-
stood to be the product of an intelligent cause seeking to imitate an eternal
archetype. In his Summa Theologiae, to be discussed in Chapter 3, Aquinas
provides a Christian formulation of the teleological argument, attributing
8 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
the ‘governance of the world’ to God: ‘We see things which lack knowl-
edge, such as natural bodies, act for an end… Therefore some intelligent
being exists by whom all natural things are directed to their end; and this
being we call God’.24 Similarly, William Paley’s Natural Theology begins
with his famous watchmaker analogy in which the discovery of a complex
and functioning watch is taken to suggest the existence of an intelligent
watchmaker, just as the complexity and order of the natural world should
be taken to suggest the existence of a divine designer. 25
Today, for those who are disinclined to invoke such a divine designer,
the main scientific alternative to emerge in recent decades is the multiverse,
whereby our universe is one of many—or perhaps an infinite number of—
universes, and so it should hardly be surprising that at least one would
contain suitable conditions for human life, and that happens to be the one
inhabited by us. Martin Rees, the British cosmologist who ‘much prefers’
the multiverse perspective to providential design, is persuaded that cosmic
design becomes less astonishing if our universe is part of a larger multiverse
ensemble. 26 In this sense, the multiverse is seen to provide the most natural
explanation of the anthropic fine-tunings, thereby dispensing with God as
an explanation of cosmic design. It is precisely because of its ostensibly
physical (or at least quasi-physical) explanatory power that multiverse pro-
ponents find the theory, for all of the doubt over whether it falls under the
experimental and observational enterprise of science, preferable to God.
In Bernard Carr’s stark framing, ‘If there is only one universe, you might
have to have a fine-tuner. If you don’t want God, you’d better have a mul-
tiverse’. 27 On this view, the multiverse proposal is perhaps the only way to
ensure that the anthropic principle remains legitimate science rather than
bad theology, a kind of God of the gaps category error in which theological
explanations are misapplied to gaps in scientific understanding.

1.2.2 Scientific legitimacy of multiverse thought

In spite of the growing mainstream scientific attention on the multiverse,
it remains a highly contentious idea, with a substantial group of cosmol-
ogists maintaining that it is excessively speculative, not open to falsifi-
cation, and therefore not properly scientific. Of course, astronomers are
(and may remain) unable to view other universes, and it may never be
possible to visit or directly experience such universes, even if they are
eventually detected or confirmed. As will be seen, the current ‘evidence’
offered for different multiverse models is invariably indirect, suggestive,
or open to varied interpretation. As a consequence, many physicists do
not regard multiverse proposals as legitimate science at all. 28 For exam-
ple, George Ellis claims that ‘the very nature of the scientific enterprise
is at stake in the multiverse debate’ since its advocates propose the ‘dan-
gerous tactic’ of abandoning testability and explanatory power in light
of the prospect of no direct or indirect means of testing the theory. 29 He
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 9
further argues that multiverse observation is impossible due to the lack
of causal connection between our experimental apparatus and the mul-
tiverse under analysis. He infers that the multiverse is not scientifically
testable and must be regarded as a metaphysical assumption: ‘A belief that
is justified by faith, unsupported by direct or indirect evidence, should be
clearly identified as such’. 30 He also contends that there must be a credible
link between presently known physics and the proposed physics underly-
ing a given multiverse—an extrapolation for which there is no (and may
never be any) evidence. On the possible existence of an infinite number
of universes (of particular reference to Tegmark’s Level IV multiverse),
he points out that infinity is not an actual number, not specifiable, and
therefore not physically realisable: ‘Whenever infinities emerge in physics,
we can be reasonably sure there has been a breakdown in our model’. 31
Conversely, Martin Rees (among a growing number of more sympathetic
cosmologists) underlines that the conceptual status of other universes is
no worse than theories such as superstrings or quarks. 32 Unlike Ellis and
other critics, Don Page believes that multiverse theories can be tested, on
the grounds that even though such theories usually involve unobservable
elements, ‘they may give testable predictions for observable elements if
they include a well defined measure for observations’. 33 In addition, multi-
verse proponents claim that, while it might not be directly testable, there
are signs that it must be correct. Indeed, Carr regards the anthropic prin-
ciple as one of the most powerful such signs: ‘In the absence of direct evi-
dence for other universes, I regard the anthropic fine-tunings as the best
indirect evidence’. 34 Regardless of one’s view on whether the multiverse
idea is properly scientific, it has clearly occasioned a profound reconsid-
eration of the role and boundaries of science, while also vividly illus-
trating the extent to which cosmology intersects with metaphysics. Like
theological reflections on the divine, the object of cosmological enquiry
(the universe as a whole) cannot be experimented upon or directly tested
or observed from ‘outside’.

1.2.3 Tegmark’s multiverse hierarchy

While modern cosmological thinking about the multiverse has been char-
acterised by strikingly divergent proposals, Tegmark’s hierarchy of multi-
verses represents a valuable and widely discussed reference point from which
to consider multiverse theories.35 Its value lies in its conceptual comprehen-
siveness, drawing together ostensibly disparate theories, and in its meta-
physically suggestive insistence that hierarchy is itself significant, allowing
for ‘progressively greater diversity’ of reality.36 However, Tegmark’s use of
hierarchy can also be problematic and potentially misleading, as evidenced
by his (scientifically provocative) claim that the ‘key question is not whether
there is a multiverse, but rather how many levels it has’.37 This might lead
one to imagine a set of sharply distinct levels, with lower levels subordinate
10 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
to or somehow less ‘real’ than higher levels, or perhaps even a requirement
that ‘access’ to the higher levels is possible only after ‘passing through’ the
lower levels. Yet, as will be seen below, Level III does not add any new
types of universes to Levels I or II. In fact, given the radical nature of Level
IV, in which all mathematical structures and possibilities are said to exist,
Levels I to III are often grouped together by critics, with IV highlighted as
a controversial outlier.38

1.2.3.1 Level I
Nevertheless, Tegmark’s hierarchy ‘begins’ with Level I, which refers to
‘regions beyond our cosmic horizon’, or the domain that cosmologists and
astronomers can directly observe.39 This is based on a spatially infinite
cosmological model (which he regards as a prediction of inflation), with
infinitely many other regions existing beyond our cosmic horizon, thereby
realising all possible initial conditions. Level I universes are governed by
the same laws of physics as our observable universe, but with different
initial conditions. Contemporary inflationary theory suggests that these
conditions were created by quantum fluctuations during inflation, result-
ing in an infinite ‘ergodic’ space containing an ensemble of universes, each
with its own random initial conditions: ‘In other words, everything that
could in principle have happened here did happen somewhere else’.40 As a
consequence, the Level I multiverse is composed of infinitely many other
inhabited planets, including infinitely many ‘copies’ of each person in our
universe. If there are many copies of each person, with no certainty about
which copy truly represents each person and only probabilistic assessments
as to how each copy will behave, Tegmark believes that this ‘kills the tradi-
tional notion of determinism’.41 Just as he offers a ‘crude estimate’ of how
far away our copies might be, his conception of identity is notably brisk
and imprecise. He refers to ‘identical’ copies, but then admits that ‘their
lives will necessarily differ eventually’.42 At a minimum, the profound phil-
osophical implications of infinitely many identities warrant much deeper
investigation.
Although Tegmark asserts that the central Level I assumption of infinite
space is valid—‘If anything, the Level I multiverse sounds obvious. How
could space not be infinite? If space comes to an end, what lies beyond
it?’43 —it remains the case that spatial infinity has neither been proven
nor refuted, and might even in principle be unknowable.44 The second
assumption on which Tegmark’s Level I multiverse rests—that matter has
a uniform distribution—is equally speculative. With reference to recent
observations of the three-dimensional galaxy distribution and the micro-
wave background, he suggests that matter is typified by uniformity on large
scales, and that assuming this pattern continues, ‘space beyond our observ-
able universe teems with galaxies, stars and planets’.45 His interpretation of
the evidence, then, is still explicitly based on an assumption requiring what
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 11
Ellis regards as an ‘extreme’ extrapolation from our observable universe
to unimaginably distant regions beyond our cosmic horizon.46 It is also
worth noting that a Level I multiverse, with the same laws of physics across
infinite space, would not directly address the question of fine-tuning that is
so central to multiverse discourse, unless such a multiverse emerged as part
of a broader Level II ensemble, as discussed below.

1.2.3.2 Level II (and other variants)

The Level II multiverse, which Tegmark believes is also predicted by most
currently popular models of inflation, is best imagined as an infinite set of
Level I multiverses. In this ‘post-inflation bubble’ scenario, space generally
stretches rapidly and forever, but some regions stop stretching and form
distinct bubbles. Infinitely many of these bubbles may be created, each
becoming an infinite embryonic Level I multiverse, with different laws of
physics, particles, and dimensionality brought about by quantum fluctua-
tions during inflation: ‘So the Level II multiverse is likely to be more diverse
than the Level I multiverse, containing domains where not only the initial
conditions differ, but also the physical constants’.47 Whereas certain Level I
multiverses could theoretically be accessible in the event of the deceleration
of cosmic expansion, Tegmark explains that Level II domains are ‘so far
away that you would never get to them even if you travelled at the speed of
light forever’48 since space is being created between our Level I multiverse
and other regions faster than it could be traversed.
Tegmark believes that the highly active research area of string theory
may offer a ‘specific realization’ of the Level II multiverse. In string the-
ory, which is viewed by physicists such as Stephen Hawking to be the clos-
est account to an accurate description of the universe, the fundamental
objects that give rise to elementary particles are one-dimensional strings,
not the point-like particles of elementary physics. String theory suggests
that there are actually ten or eleven dimensions, with some of the higher
dimensions ‘compactified’ and thus beyond direct human experience. This
compactification leads Tegmark to propose four sub-levels of increasing
diversity: IIa with the same effective laws but different post-inflationary
bubbles; IIb with different laws according to supergravity (a type of quan-
tum theory concerning the interactions of elementary particles); IIc with
different ‘fluxes’ (magnetic fields) that stabilise extra dimensions; and IId
with different compactifications and dimensionality, different symme-
tries, and different elementary particles. Similarly, Leonard Susskind’s
influential string landscape model is based on M-theory (an attempt to
unify different versions of string theory), which suggests an immense
number of string theory vacua, each associated with a different universe.
He concludes that the improbably large number of universes raises the
questions of fine-tuning and of our observation of and presence in our
own universe.49
12 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
On a related point, Paul Steinhardt and Neil Turok’s ‘ekpyrotic’ scenario,
in which the Level I multiverse is cyclic and undergoes an infinite series
of big bangs and crunches, is based on string/M theory. On this account,
the Big Bang was not the beginning of time, but an inflection point with a
past filled with endlessly repeating cycles of evolution, each accompanied
by the creation of new matter. Our own universe lies on a brane, a multi-
dimensional object, called our ‘braneworld’, which is separated by a micro-
scopic distance from a hidden second braneworld with different particles,
forces, and properties.50 The only forces capable of crossing this ‘gap’ are
gravity and dark energy, which eventually pull the two worlds together,
forcing them to collide and then separate, in an event that represents the Big
Bang. In this sense, there is an eternal process of destruction and rebirth:
‘If it exists, the ensemble of such incarnations would also form a multi-
verse, arguably with a diversity similar to that of Level II’.51 Unlike Level
II, though, this ekpyrotic cycle represents a temporal rather than a spatial
multiverse and therefore fits uneasily in Tegmark’s hierarchy. Contrary to
the Level II model, it does not introduce radically distant and unconnected
regions of spacetime with different physical constants. Rather, it conceives
of the universe as a ‘single, coherent entity that exists in a stable cycling
state whose properties can eventually be understood as a consequence of
the basic laws of nature’.52
Although Tegmark claims that Lee Smolin’s idea of universes emerging
through black holes rather than inflation53 can be seen as another Level II
variant, Smolin’s most recent work is highly critical of multiverse thought
in general and Tegmark in particular. Smolin and Roberto Unger argue that
there is only one universe at a time, a single causally connected universe
that contains all its causes. The universe is not a member of an ensemble
of other simultaneously existing universes, nor does it have any copies, nor
does it reflect or embody all mathematical structures, as Tegmark’s Level
IV multiverse suggests. The single universe may extend indefinitely back in
time, comprising earlier universes or simply earlier states of one universe.
By contrast, Smolin and Unger pointedly reject the ‘non-empirical charac-
ter’ of the multiverse idea: ‘it combines an absence of empirical validation,
or of susceptibility to empirical challenge, with a lack of explanatory func-
tion’.54 This model of a single universe is another instance of a ‘multiverse’
theory (in the sense that it involves a Level II-type degree of diversity with
its characteristics of eternal succession and transformation) which does not
entirely cohere with Tegmark’s four-level hierarchy.
The Level II multiverse, with its infinite production of bubble universes,
is often invoked in relation to the anthropic principle. 55 If there are many
(or infinitely many) other universes with different physical constants, then
it is inevitable that we find ourselves in one suitable for life, and not in other
universes with different parameters that are not conducive to such exist-
ence. On this account, the statistically improbable degree of fine-tuning in
our universe (such as the number of space-time dimensions, the strength of
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 13
electromagnetic force, and the nature of the cosmological constant) implies
the existence of other universes with at least some different physical con-
stants. If this is the case, Tegmark acknowledges that we will ‘never be able
to determine the values of all physical constants from first principles’.56
As with Level I, it is important to underline that the presumably radically
different laws governing inaccessible Level II multiverses seem to present a
logical problem for the theory itself (not addressed by Tegmark) insofar as
it assumes that the laws governing our universe can provide the basis for
speculation about other universes that would, as noted, almost certainly
be governed according to fundamentally divergent (and likely unknowable)
principles.

1.2.3.3 Level III

Tegmark’s Level III multiverse refers to the ‘many worlds’ interpreta-
tion (MWI) of quantum mechanics, initially proposed in 1957 by Hugh
Everett as an alternative to the Copenhagen Interpretation of Niels Bohr
and Werner Heisenberg. According to Hewitt, the Copenhagen ‘collapse’
postulate—whereby states of the universe are specified in terms of wave
functions which collapse into definite classical states (such as the positions
and velocities of particles) upon observation—is unnecessary. Rather, at
each event or decision point, reality ‘splits’ in a manner that observers
experience as a slight randomness, and every outcome actually happens,
each in a different universe, suggesting the exponential creation of new
universes as each quantum eventuality unfolds. While the parallel versions
of each individual in Level I are situated elsewhere in three-dimensional
space, Tegmark believes that they exist on ‘another quantum branch in
infinite-dimensional Hilbert space’ in Level III.57
Paradoxically, though often regarded as the most controversial and meta-
physically radical of the first three levels, Tegmark maintains that Level III
‘adds nothing new beyond Levels I and II, just more indistinguishable cop-
ies of the same universes’.58 Thus, someone experiencing a Level III-type
‘split’ or superposition of outcomes, such as the choice between reading
the rest of this paragraph or doing something else, notices the branching
as a flicker of uncertainty and is unaware of the quantum alter ego who
makes the alternative decision. Likewise, in a Level I multiverse, different
versions of the same person make different decisions, with the only differ-
ence being that they reside elsewhere in conventional three-dimensional
space rather than a separate quantum branch. While the Level I (or II) and
III subjects thereby occupy different space, it is possible to understand the
Tegmarkian sense in which Level III ‘splitting’ or ‘branching’ can happen
in Levels I and II without necessarily adding anything qualitatively new or
contentious to the prior levels, though of course the perception of extreme
profligacy remains controversial. In this sense, MWI proponents highlight
the Copenhagen Interpretation’s relative complexity (since it seems to ‘add’
14 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
something extra to account for the ‘collapse’ of the wave function) and
solipsism (since ontologically it seems to imply that reality is observer-
dependent). Further developments in quantum computing may strengthen
(or weaken) the Level III notion of parallelism.

1.2.3.4 Level IV
Finally, Tegmark explores the widely held physics notion that the phys-
ical world is a mathematical structure. He defines mathematical struc-
tures as ‘formal systems … consist[ing] of abstract symbols and rules
for manipulating them, specifying how new strings of symbols referred
to as theorems can be derived from given ones referred to as axioms’. 59
He claims that if it is not the case that all mathematical structures enjoy
physical existence, then there would be a ‘fundamental, unexplained
ontological asymmetry’ built into reality, splitting such structures into
two classes of those with and without physical existence. To escape this
apparent dilemma, he introduces the concept of ‘mathematical democ-
racy’, 60 in which mathematical and physical reality are equivalent, and
every mathematical structure exists physically and corresponds to a dif-
ferent universe, thus permitting the existence of everything: ‘This implies
the notion that a mathematical structure and the physical world are in
some sense identical. It also means that mathematical structures are
“out there”, in the sense that mathematicians discover them rather than
create them’.61
The Level IV multiverse, described by Tegmark as ‘the ultimate ensem-
ble theory’ and by Brian Greene as the ‘Ultimate Multiverse’, allegedly
comprises all mathematically possible universes, subsumes all other
ensembles, and therefore ‘brings closure to the hierarchy of multiverses’,
such that there cannot be a Level V. 62 While Level I universes join seam-
lessly, and Level II and Level III universes are demarcated by inflation
and decoherence respectively, Level IV universes are completely discon-
nected. The evidence for Level IV is what Tegmark sees as the ‘unrea-
sonable effectiveness of mathematics’ (that is, the utility of mathematics
for describing the physical world, which he attributes to the idea that
the world is mathematical structure), though he concedes that failure
to unify general relativity and quantum field theory, and thus to find
a mathematical structure to match our universe, would necessitate the
abandonment of Level IV since this would undermine its assumption of
the unreasonable effectiveness of mathematics in describing our physical
universe.63
While the multiverse models depicted in Levels I, II, and III are the sub-
ject of varying degrees of debate among cosmologists, Tegmark’s Level IV
multiverse has been strongly criticised for its extravagance and profligacy.
In response to Tegmark’s troubling and ill-defined conflation of mathe-
matical and physical reality, Ellis notes that we ‘cannot even describe
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 15
[Level IV] properly, let alone prove it occurs. Claiming existence of some-
thing you cannot properly characterize has dubious scientific merit’.64
Echoing many scientific (and religious) critics, Page highlights the logical
absurdities raised by the co-existence of contradictory mathematical struc-
tures. He contends that there must be one unique mathematical structure
that describes reality, and so it is logically nonsensical to posit different
structures describing different parts of what is ultimately one overarching
reality.
Intriguingly from a philosophical perspective, Tegmark suggests that the
debate over quantum mechanics and parallel universes is secondary to the
deeper conflict between what he sees as the Platonic paradigm, whereby
the external/mathematical perspective is real, while our internal human
perspective is merely approximate, and the Aristotelian paradigm, which
he sees as subordinating mathematical language to the internal perspective:
‘if you prefer the Platonic paradigm, you should find multiverses natural.
In this case, all of physics is ultimately a mathematics problem … there is a
TOE [Theory of Everything] at the top of the tree, whose axioms are purely
mathematical’.65 For Tegmark, the Level IV premise that all mathematical
structures exist physically ‘can be viewed as a form of radical Platonism,
asserting that the mathematical structures in Plato’s realm of ideas … exist
“out there” in a physical sense’.66 As will be discussed in the next chapter,
this idiosyncratic interpretation of Platonism, with reality identified with
the physical, seems to be at odds with Plato’s vision in which physical
things exist as an image of and a participation in the non-physical, eter-
nal Forms, which lie beyond the material world as its source and model.
While the particular contours of Tegmark’s reading of Plato are dubious,
his warning against dismissing things ‘merely because we cannot observe
them from our vantage point’67 is a fitting expression of the Platonic love
of the unseen and eternal. In addition, the Forms raise philosophical issues
of direct relevance to the multiverse, such as the relation of the universe to
whatever deeper reality lies beyond it, as well as the metaphysical question
of ‘universals’, or what particular things share in common.
That Tegmark’s hierarchy entails progressively greater diversity opens
his vision (and multiverse thought in general) to the charge of violating
Ockham’s razor, or the idea that any theory should avoid unnecessary com-
plexity.68 On this point, Tegmark counterintuitively argues that the higher
multiverse levels are simpler due to the ‘symmetry and simplicity inherent
in the totality of all the elements taken together … The opulence of com-
plexity is all in the subjective perceptions of observers’.69 He identifies com-
plexity with particularity, such that restricting attention to one aspect of an
ensemble detracts from its overall simplicity. In this way, the movement up
through the multiverse hierarchy becomes a journey away from complexity:
away from the specification of initial conditions (Level I), then away from
the specification of physical constants (Level II), and ultimately away from
the specification of anything at all (Level IV).
16 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
1.3 Multiverse thought: theology
In contemporary theology, multiverse theory is discussed primarily in the
context of the question of ‘design’. This is consistent with both the historic
theological importance of design (particularly as the subject of natural the-
ology) and the increasing attention in contemporary science on anthropic
reasoning (which has itself occasioned the recent turn to multiverse spec-
ulation). While the emphasis on design is as important as it is inevitable,
the central premise of this book is that the ultimately rather limited issue of
design fails to reflect the profound theological and metaphysical implications
of the multiverse proposal. As noted earlier, Rubenstein concludes her survey
with the suggestion that the multiverse hypothesis could provide the basis
for the development of a theology that asks more fundamental metaphysical
questions than whether the universe has been designed.70 The purpose of
this book is to outline such a theology by drawing on Platonic and medieval
Christian resources to demonstrate that a metaphysic of participation can
facilitate effective theological engagement with the multiverse hypothesis.
Prior to outlining what such a metaphysical framework might entail, it
would be instructive in this section to provide an overview of the intellec-
tual context of contemporary theological multiverse assessments. First, I
will focus on theological objections to the multiverse, which have tended to
shape the initial theological response. Second, I will assess the more posi-
tive (albeit still tentative) ways in which other theologians have approached
the subject.71

1.3.1 Theological criticism of multiverse thought

1.3.1.1 Design
Given that the multiverse has often been presented in explicitly atheistic
terms as an alternative to divine design, with its advocates expecting it to
‘have the same impact in the context of cosmic design as evolution did in
the context of biological design’72 it is perhaps unsurprising that the issue
of design has been the focus of initial (and in most cases unsympathetic)
theological engagement. Thus, Christoph Schönborn, the Archbishop of
Vienna, identifies the multiverse hypothesis (along with ‘neo-Darwinism’)
as a hostile scientific claim, ‘invented to avoid the overwhelming evidence
for purpose and design found in modern science’.73 This careful emphasis
on defending what Schönborn sees as the limits and findings of science
places him in the unexpected position of dismissing the multiverse on sci-
entific rather than theological grounds. His concern is that modern sci-
ence—‘the light of reason’—is being misappropriated by the ideological
project of denying purpose and design.74 The logical—and potentially the-
ologically fruitful—corollary of Schönborn’s argument is that a more scien-
tifically modest and restrained multiverse account, not intended to reduce
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 17
the cosmos to pure chance and necessity, could be compatible with belief in
God. Contrary to the historic conflict model75 suggested by his claim that
the Church will ‘again’ defend reason, perhaps it might be possible to rec-
oncile God and the multiverse (and, by implication, theology and science)
in a manner that acknowledges the participation of human reason in divine
reason, and the proper role of reason in helping to discern its own divine
source and ground in the complex ordering of the cosmos.
While Schönborn objects to invoking the multiverse to undermine cos-
mic design, other theistic multiverse critics argue that its alleged ad hoc
nature and its metaphysical extravagance serve unintentionally to reinforce
the notion of design. According to the evangelical philosopher and theolo-
gian William Lane Craig, the fact that ‘detractors of design’ feel obliged to
resort to such a radical and scientifically contentious theory merely under-
lines the point that cosmic fine-tuning is ‘not explicable in terms of physical
necessity alone or in terms of sheer chance’ and therefore the multiverse
hypothesis is ‘a sort of backhanded compliment’ to the design hypothesis.76
In this vein, Neil Manson suggests that the multiverse might be thought of
as ‘the last resort for the desperate atheist’.77 This approach of acknowledg-
ing the profound metaphysical issues raised by the multiverse hypothesis
(usually in dismissive and contemptuous terms), followed by a swift retreat
back to the question of design, is characteristic of many early theological
responses. The premise of this book is that, having hinted at the metaphys-
ics, it would be more constructive to pursue this line of inquiry in a more
focused and sustained manner.

1.3.1.2 Extravagance and profligacy

In addition to criticism that the multiverse represents an ideological, rather
than strictly scientific, attempt to replace divine design, theologians have
also widely criticised the multiverse for its lack of simplicity and economy,
particularly in relation to Tegmark’s controversial Level IV multiverse.78
This theological perspective goes beyond the standard scientific concern
that the multiverse radically violates Ockham’s razor79 to contend that the
hypothesis of a divine designer is vastly more simple, coherent, and thus
plausible. For instance, Keith Ward argues that Tegmark’s Level IV multi-
verse, in which everything will be true somewhere, is ‘more extravagant’
than any religious creed: ‘[The Level IV model] does not have much to
offer in the way of economy, simplicity, or plausibility…to say that it is
simpler than proposing an intelligent Creator is not convincing’.80 If the
choice is between an immense number of universes existing for no particu-
lar reason, and a supreme intelligent being with necessary existence able to
bring contingent universes into being for the sake of their value, he main-
tains that God is the ‘simpler and more rational hypothesis’.81 In Ward’s
view, the arbitrariness and profligacy of the multiverse can only be
redeemed by the existence of underlying value; specifically, a mind-like
18 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
ultimate existent with the power to bring about the existence of universes
for the sake of realising certain values or worthwhile states of affairs. On
this account, the multiverse would not necessarily be an alternative to God,
but rather an extension of the creative power of God.
Similarly, Rodney Holder maintains that the multiverse is ‘distinctly
non-simple and uneconomical’ in comparison with belief in God.82 He
identifies a number of fundamental (and as yet unanswered) problems with
the multiverse hypothesis, such as whether infinitely many universes are
physically realisable; whether the hypothesis is testable; whether it is simple
(and therefore more probable than theism); what kind of explanation it
provides; why there appears to be more fine-tuning in this universe than is
required for life; and why the order for life persists in this universe.83 On the
apparent surfeit of fine-tuning, Holder refers to Roger Penrose’s research
concerning the entropy of the universe, which suggests that our universe is
significantly more special than required merely in order for human life to
exist. The multiverse proposal might offer an explanation for fine-tuning
as such, but not for our own universe’s ultra fine-tuning, which remains
an ‘unexplained brute fact’,84 as does the persistence of order in our uni-
verse—neither of which are fully explained by the multiverse hypothesis,
and both of which indicate that our universe is much more special than a
randomly generated universe within a multiverse.
For Holder, the multiverse is a complex explanation, multiplying entities
in a ‘catch-all’ way that is generally discouraged in science, yet still fails as
an ultimate explanation, as it does not address the questions of why there
is something rather than nothing, and why there is this multiverse model
rather than that multiverse model—or, as the physicist Paul Davies puts
it, ‘multiverses merely shift the problem up one level’.85 Instead, Holder
believes God provides the ultimate explanation for our single universe,
since God exists necessarily, and represents a simpler, more economical
explanation of design (and its persistence), on the basis that a good, loving
God would bring about (and maintain) the conditions for human life. Due
to its lack of observable consequences, Holder dismisses the multiverse as ‘a
metaphysical explanation of life’ rather than a scientific one.86 As an alter-
native to Holder’s use of Bayesian probability theory to evaluate competing
metaphysical hypotheses, which calls to mind Swinburne’s similar meth-
odology to ‘demonstrate’ the existence of God,87 this book will respond to
the metaphysical nature of the multiverse proposal (aptly highlighted by
Holder and others) with the idea that a participatory account of the rela-
tionship between God and creation argues for greater continuity between
theology and the multiverse proposal.
In light of claims by theistic multiverse sceptics such as Holder and
Swinburne that an infinite God is a simpler explanation than a randomly
occurring universe or multiverse and thereby preferable on the grounds of
Ockham’s razor, Davies notes that one surprising feature of algorithmic
complexity theory (a branch of mathematics that can be used to provide
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 19
definitions of simplicity and complexity) is that the whole can sometimes
be simpler than its component parts. In this way, he claims that ‘God-
plus-Universe’ can be simpler than either in isolation, though this presents
the theologically problematic implication that God is part of the whole, as
in ‘multiverse pantheism’ described below. This assumption is not shared
by Richard Dawkins, who contends that God must be at least as complex
as any system that God creates, nor by Victor Stenger, who concludes his
survey of theological and scientific multiverse thought with a blunt denial
of the simplicity of God: ‘In the spirit of Ockham’s razor, we must rec-
ognise that currently God is an additional hypothesis not required by the
data. If he were, he would be included in the set of premises that constitute
scientific theories’.88 If this appears to be a misguided conflation of distinct
scientific and theological categories, it is shared and developed in Davies’
provocative contention that the multiverse ‘is really an old-fashioned God
in disguise’.89 He believes that both appeal to infinite, unknowable systems
and both require an infinite amount of information to be discarded just
to explain our own finite universe. Further, he speculates that algorithmic
complexity theory would show that some versions of the multiverse and
‘naïve deism’ (whereby God picks a single real universe from an infinite
shopping list of possible but unreal universes) would be equivalently—and
likely infinitely—complex: ‘[The multiverse] is basically just a religious
conviction rather than a scientific argument’.90 Regardless of the validity
of this hypothesis, Davies is helpful in terms of warning that considerable
care is needed in using terms like ‘simple’ and ‘complex’ in the multiverse
and theology debate.

1.3.1.3 Absurdity and non-intelligibility

In addition to concerns about simplicity, theological multiverse critics often
suggest that the complexity (and, it is claimed, absurdity) inherent in mul-
tiverse design is at odds with the traditional Christian conception of crea-
tion. For instance, Robert B. Mann dismisses the compatibility of God and
the Level IV multiverse on the grounds that ‘positing a deity that creates
everything is a radical departure from standard monotheism’, particularly
traditional Christian belief in God.91 He contends that the limitless char-
acter of the multiverse necessitates a radical revision of what he sees as
the biblical view of creation as ‘limited, subordinate to and dependent on
God for its origin, existence, and fulfillment’.92 Echoing Ward’s objections,
Mann claims that the ‘imbecilic generation of all conceivable universes’
would undermine any alleged link between the intelligibility of God and
creation. He adds that the most promising way of reconciling God and the
multiverse would be to find ‘some deeper principle underlying the multi-
verse, one that more fully reflects the existence, glory, and intelligibility of
its Creator’.93 This longing for a deeper, ultimate intelligibility to our cos-
mic habitat is evocative of Simon Conway Morris’ theory of convergence,
20 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
which holds that evolutionary patterns in our biological habitat tend to
converge, indicating that human life is not accidental.94 Both approaches
seek to restore a sense of purposive design (and thus compatibility with
God) in cosmology and biology that might otherwise be threatened by mul-
tiverse and evolutionary theory, respectively.

1.3.2 Positive theological engagement with multiverse thought

As the multiverse has continued to be subjected to scientific scrutiny, there
has been a corresponding, though tentative, shift in recent years among
theologians towards a somewhat more positive engagement that denies the
dichotomy between attributing anthropic fine-tunings to God or the mul-
tiverse. Not only do such figures argue that there is no reason God should
not act through the multiverse, some even claim that multiple universes are
precisely what we should expect if God exists. Although such positive the-
ological modes of engagement are welcome in light of the significant impli-
cations of the multiverse hypothesis, they are very preliminary in scope and
depth, and it is the goal of this book to provide a more systematic and met-
aphysically informed model for theological reception of multiverse theory.

1.3.2.1 Artistry and creativity

Adopting Nicholas of Cusa’s analogy of God as creative artist95 —also evi-
dent in the Thomist depiction of creation as artificiatum divinae artis, or
an artistic product of divine workmanship96 —Robin Collins argues for a
theistic version of the Level II multiverse on the basis that an infinitely crea-
tive God would operate through some sort of universe-generator, since this
would be ‘somewhat more elegant and ingenious than just creating them ex
nihilo’.97 Similarly, Robert Spitzer argues that inflationary-type multiverse
proposals will likely entail fine-tuning, thus increasing the likelihood of a
supernatural explanation.98 Instead of negating the need for God, then, the
multiverse proposal is perhaps more explicable in the context of a purpose-
ful divine designer with a motive for creation; an artist expressing creativity
and ingenuity, rather than an engineer concerned only with efficiency.
If the multiverse-generator itself requires design, then this could be said
‘to kick the issue of design up one level, to the question of who designed the
multiverse-generator’.99 Keith Ward, mindful of Stephen Hawking’s mem-
orable imagery of what could possibly ‘breathe fire’ into the equations and
make a universe for them to describe, argues that universes could not be
generated by chance through the laws of quantum physics alone. He believes
that a ‘selection principle’ would be necessary, such that a universe would
be ‘chosen for the sake of realizing some otherwise unobtainable value or
set of states and processes’.100 This implies a mind-like ‘Ultimate Reality’,
with the causal power to bring universes into being, existing beyond any
material universe ‘like the classical idea of God as the cause of all finite
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 21
existence through knowledge and intention’.101 However, the idea that
a multiverse-generator would itself require (divine) fine-tuning might be
thought to be at odds with William Stoeger’s warning against putting God
in the scientific gaps as a ‘secondary or created cause’ that could one day be
superseded scientifically, rather than as a primary or ultimate cause more
suited to a theological or metaphysical frame of reference.102 Moreover,
the theological imperative to associate multiverse generation with divine
purpose is unable to provide a full account of the nature and meaning of
creation, and the extent to which it might be considered a divine gift, or act
of love, or sharing in God’s likeness.
In a variant of God as an artist guiding multiverse design, Peter Forrest
proposes a ‘selection theory of creation’ whereby God is aware of all pos-
sible universes and selects some of them to bring into existence, leaving
others as unactualised might-have-beens: ‘We may think of God as a mas-
ter sculptor carving one or probably many rough figures out of a vast and
variegated block of marble’.103 Aside from appearing to closely conform to
Davies’ definition of naïve deism, this raises (and leaves unexplored) the
crucial theological dichotomy of actuality and potentiality, and the notion
of what God ‘could’ do. Forrest favours what he calls the ‘Hyperspace’ mul-
tiverse account (similar to Tegmark’s Level I) over the ‘bubbling’ or ‘split-
ting’ universes of Levels II and III on the basis that each ‘hyperspace’ in
these models would require its own God, necessitating a sort of polytheism
that he finds unacceptably heterodox (ironically given his own unorthodox
pantheistic conclusions). In his view, God does not have power to bring
things into existence ex nihilo, which raises the problem of how the ini-
tial Hyperspace came into being. He explains that the Hyperspace is God,
thus arriving at a modified pantheism in which God is identified not with
our universe, but with the actual Universe, ‘which is initially the whole
Universe, pregnant with all possibility’.104
In line with Collins, Kraay, and Leslie (discussed below), Don Page
argues from a theistic perspective that the multiverse might be suggestive
of an even more grand design of the universe. If God is infinitely crea-
tive, it makes sense to assume that God might create ‘a physical reality
much larger than the single visible part of the universe or multiverse that
we can observe directly’.105 Further, ‘it might seem simpler’ for God to
choose many sets of physical constants (a multiverse rather than a single
universe) since Page sees no reason that the constants we observe should
be uniquely preferred over other possibilities.106 Like Carr’s ‘outward
journey’ (from a geocentric to heliocentric to galactocentric to multiverse
view), Page regards the idea as a ‘natural extension of our usual ideas
of accepting a reality beyond one’s immediate conscious perception’.107
As with other theistic multiverse accounts, though, Page only tentatively
hints at the motive and purpose underlying multiverse creation: ‘[God]
might prefer elegance in the principles by which He creates a vast multi-
verse over a paucity of universes’.108
22 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
1.3.2.2 Tentative metaphysics
In a defence of the compatibility of God and the multiverse that begins to
move beyond strict considerations of design towards more metaphysical
considerations, John Leslie outlines an account of creation that he bases on
the Platonic notion (from Book VI of The Republic) that the Form of the
Good, itself ‘beyond being’, is responsible for the existence of things. He
depicts a model of reality in which there are infinitely many universes, each
constituting a thought pattern contemplated by a divine mind. He suggests
four ways in which God could be conceived in this scheme, although he is
neutral as to which is most apt: God is the entire ‘infinite ocean of infinite
minds’; God is the infinite mind inside which we exist; God is the ‘Platonic
principle’ that the ethical need for the multiverse to exist is its own source
of existence; or God is an ‘all-seeing, personality-imbued region or aspect
of [an] infinite mind’.109 While this scheme (at least somewhat) reflects the
fundamental Platonic insight that there is a surplus of ultimate meaning,
it requires substantial further development, particularly in terms of its
conception of God, and it is advanced in oblique and immanentist terms.
Like other analytic philosophers of religion, Leslie restricts himself to con-
sideration of how his multiverse model might address a particular logical
problem (the problem of evil), whereas the purpose of this book will be to
offer a broader and deeper assessment of the metaphysical implications of
multiverse theory.110

1.3.3 Summary
Overall, the multiverse hypothesis has generated a mixed and at times hostile
reaction from theologians, though there is an emerging (if minority) group
willing to constructively engage with the proposal and in some cases to argue
for its compatibility with Christian theology. However, as illustrated in this
section, both sides have been largely defined (and constrained) by a persis-
tent focus on whether the apparent fine-tuning of the physical constants is
evidence of divine design or a mindless multiverse. Ironically, the scientific
multiverse sceptics—the physicists and cosmologists who compare multi-
verse theory to religious belief in contemptuous terms—might unwittingly
disclose a more fruitful approach for a theological revival of the multiverse.
In the absence of direct experimental data, Davies dismisses the multiverse
as ‘basically just a religious conviction rather than a scientific argument’, 111
while George Ellis contends that it will ‘always’ be a question of faith.112 Such
commentators view the claims of multiverse proponents to be immune to
testing or falsification, with a deeply problematic emphasis on infinity that is
riddled with logical and mathematical contradictions. For them, multiverse
thought belongs more properly to metaphysics rather than science.
Although this is meant as a rebuke to sympathetic scientists, it should
remind theologians that the multiverse proposal complicates and entangles
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 23
the purportedly clear divisions between science and religion, and leads
inescapably to metaphysical concerns of more fundamental importance
than ‘design’ and with which theology can more productively engage. As
Rubenstein concludes, having considered the implications and apparent
experimental bases of each level of Tegmark’s hierarchy: ‘every multiverse
hierarchy opens in one way or another onto uncannily metaphysical—even
theological—terrain…the very observations and experiments that promise
to establish the multiverse as “physics” also establish it as metaphysics’.113
In strict etymological terms, metaphysics refers to the conjunction of the
Greek words for ‘beyond’ and ‘physics’. The multiverse proposal, perhaps
more than any other issue in theology and science, embodies this metaphys-
ical nature through its vision of many universes existing beyond our known
physical universe, and its contemporary scientific expression of the ancient
philosophical problems of the ontological entanglement of the one and the
many, of singularity and plurality, and parts and wholes.
As such, this book will closely attend to Rubenstein’s (as yet) undeveloped
idea that theological engagement with the multiverse should be situated on
metaphysical grounds. More specifically—and in contrast to any other the-
ological multiverse account—I will argue that metaphysical participation
is best able to facilitate an effective theological retrieval of the multiverse
hypothesis. Before developing this perspective in the core chapters of the
book, in the following section I will introduce the concept of participation
to help frame the subsequent argument.

1.4 Participation
The metaphysical tradition of participation has a long and complicated his-
tory in Western and Christian thought, and continues to be at once highly
familiar and deeply puzzling as a philosophical concept.114 Yet its relevance
to multiverse theory—in terms of specific issues such as universals, shar-
ing, multiplicity, and diversity, and in terms of a general approach that
envisions the cosmos as sacramental, enchanted, and participatory—is pro-
found, and provides the basis for the theological exploration undertaken in
this book. Although participation, having fallen out of focus in much post-
seventeenth century Western philosophical thought, has been the subject of
renewed interest among metaphysically inclined Christian theologians in
recent years,115 this is the first book in which the concept receives sustained
treatment within the context of a key question at the intersection of theol-
ogy and science.
In general terms, the metaphysical concept of participation refers to
a relational structure whereby beings share to varying degrees in a per-
fection received from a source that itself embodies the fullness of that
perfection. Participation is central to the development and conceptual
framework of Christian metaphysics, particularly in terms of the doc-
trine of creation, which teaches that everything derives only from God
24 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
by participation. In this context, participation expresses the metaphysi-
cal relationship between created things as they share in various degrees
of being with the perfect source of being, God. The fundamental idea is
that everything in existence comes from, shares in, is sustained by, remains
utterly dependent on, and participates in God’s own existence.
The concept of participation, of such central importance to the God-
creation relationship, as well as theological aspects of multiverse theory,
animates every aspect of this book and receives its most sustained treat-
ment in the following three chapters. As a preliminary step that might
be helpful in terms of introducing the idea and framing its application in
subsequent chapters, in this section I will outline the core meaning and
historical development of the notion of metaphysical participation. Since
participation is detailed at length in the following three chapters in the con-
text of each relevant thinker, it will be sufficient in this instance to provide
a general account of the tradition, its ideas, and its critics. As such, I will
begin with a summary of participation as articulated by Plato and Aquinas,
two of the central figures in the tradition. I will then trace subsequent devel-
opments as the idea falls into relative disuse in the modern era, albeit with
a recent revival in some academic theological circles. I will conclude with
brief reflections on the thematic applicability of participatory thought to
multiverse considerations.

1.4.1 Plato and Aquinas

Plato is the first major thinker to explore metaphysical participation and to
make a sustained philosophical effort to address the confounding problem
of how to relate the physical realm with the divine realm.116 In ancient
Greek philosophy, the search for reality—what might be said to be eternal,
immutable, and truly real as opposed to the everyday world of change,
decay, and uncertainty—was paramount. Plato’s theory of the Forms is
the most powerful expression of this imperative to reconcile divinity and
materiality, and hugely influential in terms of the development of Christian
participatory metaphysics. In the Platonic vision, reality comprises two dis-
tinct but not wholly separate realms—the visible world of material things
and the divine realm of Forms—whose relationship is defined and struc-
tured by participation.
In this metaphysical vision, a beautiful tree not only represents the exist-
ence of true and eternal Beauty, but owes its beauty to its participation in
the Form of Beauty itself. Given that the beautiful tree is an embodiment
of the Form in which it participates and from which it receives its beauty, it
is evident that the two realms—what might be thought of as becoming and
being—are fundamentally related. As Jacob Sherman helpfully puts it in his
genealogy of participation, the Forms comprise ‘an ontologically different
but nevertheless related order than the particular beings that participate in
them’.117 While Plato describes a profoundly relational (and therefore more
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 25
theological) universe, in which the identity of each thing is not entirely
located within itself but rather points beyond itself to its true source of
reality, it is important to remember that the Platonic Forms are not synon-
ymous with God. In Book VI of The Republic, which also examines the
movement from transient, changeable objects to eternal, immutable truth,
the Form of the Good (not God) is disclosed as the ultimate source of all
goodness and truth in the world, responsible for the existence of the other
Forms.
Although Platonic participation will be explored at length in the following
chapter, it is worth noting some representative examples of this participatory
language. In the Phaedo, Plato depicts the physical world as ‘participating’
in the Forms, which are ‘immutable’, ‘eternal’, and ‘divine’.118 In the
Timaeus, participation expresses the connection between the sensible and
intelligible world, with the physical world of change and flux depicted as
a ‘likeness’ of its eternal source.119 More broadly, Plato introduces and
explores the notion of cosmic multiplicity with a cosmological vision in
which the entire universe is a harmonious and beautiful unity while also
composed of differences and pluralities, in a subtle interplay of the one and
the many. Plato is concerned not with establishing a stark division between
the physical world and the divine Forms, but with an enchanted and in
many ways mysterious cosmos in which the physical and divine realms exist
in a complex relationship governed by participation, in which the presence
of transcendent forms exists in, and provides the basis of, sensible things.
For Plato, this ‘in-between’ realm of participation is closely associ-
ated with love. This is significant for the development of participation in
Christian theology because participation is not simply an order of met-
aphysical relation, but also a movement of love and desire in which all
things, as coming from God, are properly received with love.120 We are
driven by love to seek, understand, and give thanks for what we receive as
a gift, whether in the Platonic context of ascending to the divine realm of
the Forms, or the Christian context of loving God and, crucially, loving
God’s creation as a gift that comes from God and is ordered towards him.
For example, in the Symposium love is depicted as the essential element in
moving the soul towards its divine end: ‘Love longs for the good to be his
own forever’.121 To return to the earlier example of beauty, Plato depicts
the ascent to absolute beauty, driven by love. Love of physical beauty in
the world should be followed by a progression to recognising the beauty
of the soul, followed by institutional and intellectual beauties and, finally,
supreme beauty, in which every other beautiful thing participates: ‘Starting
from individual beauties, the quest for the universal beauty must find him
ever mounting the heavenly ladder, stepping rung from rung… until at last
he comes to know what beauty is’.122 In a vivid metaphor, Socrates com-
pares the soul to a winged chariot, pulled by two horses. Stirred by love, it
is capable of soaring to the heavens and participating in the divine: ‘Such
a one, as soon as he beholds the beauty of the world, is reminded of true
26 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
beauty, and his wings begin to grow; then he is fain to lift his wings and
fly upward’.123
Plato’s participatory metaphysics is immensely significant in terms of the
development of Christian metaphysics, though his student Aristotle is often
understood to be more ambivalent about participation.124 In Aristotle’s
Metaphysics, he suggests that the Forms lack explanatory power, merely
providing a parallel realm of shadows whose existence is doubtful and
whose status as the giver of being to sensible entities is unclear: ‘to say that
[the Forms] are paradigms and that other things participate in them is to
say nothing and to give poetic metaphors’.125 His God is the final cause,
neither an efficient nor formal cause of the physical cosmos, nor the basis
for creaturely participation in divine being. While he accepts the existence
of forms as inherent in physical matter and possessed by things of the same
type, he does not view this in Platonic participatory terms—perhaps at
most as a notional or paradigmatic sort of participation, not a ‘real’ one. In
this sense, whereas Plato envisions a world infused with the divinity from
which it originates and in which it participates, Aristotle’s conception of
divinity is separated from physicality and multiplicity.
Following Plato, Aquinas is the central figure in Christian participatory
thought. His doctrine of creation teaches that everything (including the
whole physical universe or, perhaps, multiverse) exists only by participa-
tion in God and therefore only exists in relation to God. This represents a
more radical form of Platonism than that envisaged by Plato himself, who
was of course not operating with Christian ideas about God and creation.
Aquinas’s work is replete with deeply participatory language and themes,
and it occupies a central role in developing and refining the tradition by
seeking to reconcile Aristotelian cosmology with the participatory vision of
earlier Neoplatonic thinkers such as Augustine and Pseudo-Dionysius. He
considers questions related to creation and cosmology in specifically par-
ticipatory terms and in a way that will be seen to be of direct and perhaps
surprising relevance for this book. His influence on subsequent participa-
tory thought, which continues in contemporary theology, also necessitates
his inclusion in any summary of participation.
One significant development in Aquinas’s thought is his interest in
addressing the fundamental question of why anything exists, in contrast
to the Platonic and Aristotelian systems of how things are structured and
ordered. Unlike Aristotle, Aquinas accepts that an effect may participate
in its cause, a causal view of participation whereby the physical world is
dependent upon a perfect transcendent source for its being—precisely the
kind of participatory relationship shared by God and created beings. For
Aquinas, participation is a structural relationship between beings such that
‘they all share in various degrees of fullness in some positive property or
perfection common to them all, as received from the same one source: all
finite beings participate in existence from God’.126
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 27
Crucially, Aquinas modifies the Platonic notion of participation
according to his own distinction between essence and existence, which
governs how he distinguishes between God and creation.127 According to
Aquinas, the essence of a thing—what it is—is distinct from the exist-
ence of a thing—that it is. Since a thing’s existence cannot be accounted
for by its essence—the kind of person I am doesn’t account for why I
exist as a person—we need some kind of external principle to account
for existence. In this sense, any created thing whose essence is distinct
from its existence depends on something else for its existence. This some-
thing else must be God, who is existence itself and in whom essence
and existence perfectly coincide: ‘In God essence and being are identi-
cal’.128 All created things, then, merely have existence; they are not exist-
ence itself. In order to exist, they participate in God’s perfect existence.
Whereas God exists essentially, creation exists by participation. As such,
creation only exists because it participates in that which exists in and of
itself, God.
This model of participation, based on Aquinas’s distinction between
essence and existence, has two extremely important implications, which
will be explored in greater detail in Chapter 3. First, since everything
in creation exists only by participating in God’s existence, the primary
focus of existence is God. As will be discussed later, this is particu-
larly meaningful within the context of multiverse discourse in which the
cosmos, especially if it seems to be unimaginably larger than we tra-
ditionally believed, comes to be regarded as the primary focus of cre-
ation, perhaps as something big enough to displace or eliminate God.
With Aquinas’s participatory view of creation, though, God (in whom
essence and existence perfectly coincide) is the only focus of existence,
as all other things owe their existence by sharing in God’s existence. As
Aquinas puts it, with reference to the vast multiplicity of ways in which
creaturely participation in God is possible: ‘every creature has its own
proper species, according to which it participates in some mode in like-
ness to the divine essence’.129
Second, Aquinas’s view of participation implies that creation is utterly
and continuously dependent on God for its existence. We take part in God’s
existence; we are not ourselves existence. To receive the gift of existence is
to understand that we are being held and sustained in existence at every
moment by God’s loving donation of existence. On this view, the existence
of all things is a gift from God, a continually received participation in and
ecstatic relationship with the perfect source of existence. Participation is
a measure of our radical dependence on God—or, as Aquinas puts it, ‘the
very dependency of the created act of being upon the principle from which
it is produced’.130 To exist is to be in continual receipt of being from the
perfect source of being, in whose likeness we are made and without which
we would be nothing.
28 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
1.4.2 Subsequent developments
Although metaphysical participation is central to Platonism and Thomism,
and what might be viewed as a participatory approach is evident in many
of the Church Fathers (such as Gregory of Nyssa, Maximus the Confessor,
Pseudo-Dionysius, and John of Damascus), it is relatively marginal in much
post-seventeenth century Western philosophy. In particular, the Platonic
ascent to and participation in an eternal realm, which is absorbed and
reformulated by Augustine, Anselm, and Aquinas,131 assumes a hierarchy
of being that is no longer widely accepted as self-evident in contemporary
theology or philosophy, nor of course in contemporary Western culture
which generally conceives of the cosmos in terms of atomistic and mechan-
ically causal categories.
The Scientific Revolution, and its theological and philosophical implica-
tions, is an important part of the story of the history of participation. In the
late Renaissance period, a synthesis of Ptolemaic astronomy, Aristotelian
philosophy, and Christian theology was widely assumed, supporting the
view that creation is a sacramental order of signs that express theologi-
cal truths and in which meaning, order, and purpose can be discerned.
In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, a series of thinkers and events
challenged this view by reconceiving nature strictly in physical terms as
an object of empirical study rather than in terms of theological or meta-
physical speculation. Early modern scientists, such as Nicolaus Copernicus
and Galileo Galilei who laid the foundations for a dramatic intellectual
shift from geocentric to heliocentric theory, embraced the possibility that
nature could be understood and described according to a pattern of regular
laws. This produced the modern conception of a homogenous universe,
the nature of which could be derived from observation and experimenta-
tion and represented solely in terms of mathematical structures, physical
forces, and chemical compositions. The critical, empirical spirit fostered
by the Scientific Revolution weakened Christian theological assumptions
that held knowing something to be true involved understanding the being
and purpose of the thing—or, the ontological and teleological aspects of
the thing. This, in turn, laid the groundwork for a turn away from a sac-
ramental, hierarchical, participatory universe to a view of nature in which
science and mathematics could explain and control things entirely in phys-
ical terms.
Of particular note within the context of the Scientific Revolution and its
implications for participation, we might consider Francis Bacon, the seven-
teenth century English philosopher and an early and influential advocate of
empiricism as the basis of the scientific method. He rejects participation on
the grounds that, while the physical world might illustrate God’s power and
creativity, it need not bear any likeness to its divine source, just as a watch
might suggest the existence of a maker while not exemplifying or reflect-
ing anything meaningful about the maker’s nature: ‘For as the power and
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 29
skill of a workman are seen in his works, but not his person, so the works
of God express the wisdom and omnipotence of the Creator, without the
least representation of his image’.132 On this understanding, the physical
world can be investigated on its own terms without any reference to the
divine realm to which it might somehow be related, thereby negating the
Platonic preoccupation with invoking participation as a way of bridging
the gap between the physical and divine realms. In the eighteenth century,
Immanuel Kant dealt an additional philosophical blow to participation
with his critique of the Anselmian notion that one might ascend from per-
fections in the world such as beauty or goodness to the existence of a per-
fect, self-sufficient source of beauty or goodness (a perfect being) in which
those things participate and by which they are measured.133
In spite of the modern turn away from Platonic and Thomistic partici-
pation in light of the Reformation and the Scientific Revolution, the idea
persisted—albeit in revised and unexpected and unfamiliar ways—in mod-
ern philosophy. For example, Sherman identifies a ‘creative’ turn in modern
participatory thought, a ‘mode whereby not only are essence and existence
participated, but creativity itself is shared through the series of participatory
mediations’.134 He does not associate this turn (which remains in progress
in contemporary theory) with any particular figure, but rather as a broad
trajectory among philosophers who cannot be easily identified as Platonists
and who may not use explicitly participatory language, but who neverthe-
less employ conceptual frameworks that are suggestive of participation.
Specifically, he cites Meister Eckhart’s account of human imagination as
participating in the divine mind, Benedict Spinoza’s extreme pantheistic
variant of creative participation, and Friedrich Schelling’s theory that we
participate in God’s creativity, thereby revealing the infinite in finite forms
of human expression.135
To Sherman’s list, it might be possible to add Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz’s
theory of the participation of monads (basic objects or substances of exist-
ence) in the divine mind, or Alfred North Whitehead’s distinctly relational
notion of ‘ingression’, in which ‘eternal objects’ can be given expression
in physical things: ‘[Ingression] refers to the particular mode in which the
potentiality of an eternal object is realized in a particular actual entity,
contributing to the definiteness of that actual entity’.136 More recently,
the German-American theologian Paul Tillich uses strikingly participa-
tory language, such as his contention that participation in ultimate reality
brings certainty to religious belief.137 In light of the enduring interest in
participatory ideas, even if significantly removed from traditional Platonic
and Thomistic assumptions, we might consider that the apparent turn away
from participation is more akin to a kind of reconfiguration in its expres-
sion and application than an outright rejection.
Perhaps, then, the diversity of participatory metaphysical systems devised
by philosophers and theologians in recent centuries suggests that the idea
of participation is more resilient than is often assumed. While the concepts
30 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
and language have developed significantly since the ancient and medieval
periods, the fundamental insight of participation—the need to explain and
traverse the gap between this world and whatever lies beyond—remains
as salient as ever. In fact, in recent years there has been a spirited revival
in the reconsideration of participation in Plato, Augustine, and Aquinas,
particularly within the Radical Orthodoxy movement which makes use
of participatory insights to critique the assumptions of modern secularism
and liberalism.138 At the same time, there has been a renewed focus on par-
ticipation, particularly among Catholic theologians, who seek to reconsider
and retrieve the participatory insights of Aquinas in light of contemporary
developments in theology, philosophy, and science.139 This book is itself a
product of this renewed academic interest in the philosophical value and
the modern relevance of metaphysical participation. My hope is that the
theological exploration undertaken here will help advance and strengthen
this trend, while also demonstrating to researchers in both theology and
science that a participatory outlook can offer valuable insights to questions
of contemporary scientific and cultural relevance.

1.4.3 Multiverse applicability

While the relevance of metaphysical participation to multiverse theory will
be the core focus of this book’s theological exploration, it might be worth-
while to provide initial reflections on this potential connection, having pro-
vided a basic overview of participation here. There are three ways in which
we might begin to see the potential contours of the applicability of partic-
ipation to multiverse theory, each of which will be given fuller expression
in the following chapters. (In addition, and as discussed in Chapter 5.5,
I believe that a participatory outlook can be helpful for the theology and
science dialogue more broadly.)
First, participation entails theologically suggestive ideas of sharing,
likeness, donation, and reception—all of which serve as useful frame-
works for approaching multiverse theory. For example, Aquinas argues
that everything exists by sharing in God’s existence. Put simply, creation in
itself is nothing because of its reception of being from God; it is always held
in existence by God’s donation of being. Here we might think of a multi-
verse (or its constituent parts) as not one entity apart from God, but as held
in existence in all its diversity and immensity by God’s loving donation of
existence. There is only one focus of existence, which is God, and so even
a multiverse of immense size and scope or many constituent parts need not
‘overwhelm’ or ‘replace’ God as is sometimes suggested by both supporters
and critics of the multiverse hypothesis. Instead, with Aquinas’s notion of
creation and participation, we might understand that God and the multi-
verse are not in competition, but that the focus of existence is always God
and that everything else exists in a relation of participation in God. In light
of multiverse theory, we need not push God out of the equation, but rather
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 31
remind ourselves that, no matter the nature of creation, it is wholly reliant
on its relation to God and simply would not exist without God.
Second, not only does participation entail theological concepts of rele-
vance to multiverse thought, but it is also inextricably linked with more
general philosophical ideas that bear directly upon the way we might
think about and understand multiverse thought, particularly in terms of
universals, analogies, and part-whole relations. Indeed, the central prem-
ise of participation—that something has its reality by virtue of something
other than itself and bears witness to something beyond itself—might itself
be offered as a useful framework for approaching multiverse theory, yet
theological treatments have not yet fully considered the implications of this
highly suggestive connection. We might also consider the connectivity of
the constituent parts of a multiverse to the whole (perhaps in terms of the
dependence of our finely-tuned universe on the existence of the others),
and—of more theological significance—to their origin in a common source.
Third, as discussed earlier in this chapter, multiverse theory is often pre-
sented by scientists and philosophers as an alternative to God—as a way
to make sense of a cosmos that might be vastly more complex and diverse
than we previously imagined. To that extent, it can be seen as indicative
of a deepening of a modern, secular approach to the physical universe in
which science alone sets the terms of reference, which in part explains the
ambivalence of the early theological reception of multiverse theory. With
a more participatory and metaphysical approach, though, it might be pos-
sible to reclaim a sense of a sacramental and enchanted universe (or mul-
tiverse), whose multiplicity, diversity, and complexity is exactly what we
might expect of a creation that exists in a relation of participation in God.
In the following three chapters, I will draw on Platonic and medieval par-
ticipatory resources (often overlooked in multiverse discussions and in the
broader theology and science field) to demonstrate that the concept of met-
aphysical participation provides a constructive way for engaging with, and
helping to illuminate, important ideas within multiverse theory, such as
multiplicity, diversity, and infinity. I will begin in the next chapter with an
examination of Plato’s participatory metaphysics and its applicability to the
startling cosmic multiplicity that is inherent in the multiverse hypothesis.

Notes
1 Mary-Jane Rubenstein, Worlds Without End: The Many Lives of the Mul-
tiverse (New York, NY: Columbia University Press), p. 236. I will engage
extensively with Rubenstein’s work throughout this book, particularly in
Chapter 2.2.
2 For a concise and comprehensive survey of contemporary issues in the theol-
ogy and science field, including discussion of multiverse thought, see Mark
Harris and Duncan Pritchard (eds.), Philosophy, Science and Religion for
Everyone (New York, NY: Routledge, 2018). For other wide-ranging sur-
veys of the ways in which theology and science challenge and inform each
32 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
other, see Philip Clayton and Zachary Simpson (eds.), The Oxford Hand-
book of Religion and Science (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006); Peter
Harrison (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Science and Religion (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010); J. B. Stump and Alan G. Padgett
(eds.), The Blackwell Companion to Science and Christianity (Chichester:
Wiley-Blackwell, 2012). It is also worth noting that much of the recent aca-
demic theology and science dialogue has taken place in the Western world,
within a Christian context, of which this book is a product. The assump-
tions of other religious traditions will invariably be challenged by multiverse
thought, but it is not within the scope of this book to pursue such debates.
3 John Templeton Foundation, Science-Engaged Theology Overview, https://
www.templeton.org/project/science-engaged-theology (accessed February 15,
2021).
4 University of St. Andrews, What is a Theological Puzzle?, https://set.wp.st-
andrews.ac.uk/about/what-is-a-theological-puzzle/ (accessed February 15,
2021).
5 For a more sympathetic appraisal of early expressions of science-engaged
theology, see Peter Harrison, ‘A Historian’s Perspective on Science-Engaged
Theology’, Modern Theology, February 2021.
6 The idea of ‘puzzles’ in science-engaged theology might call to mind the con-
ceptual ‘problems’ that are often invoked in the analytic philosophical and the-
ological traditions. Indeed, the language and assumptions of science-engaged
theology are woven through with the analytic outlook. In both cases, there is
a tendency to reduce theological questions to highly technical and often trivial
problems that can allegedly be resolved by logical analysis or linguistic preci-
sion. In this book, I critically engage with a number of thinkers who seem to be
working within the analytic tradition, and whose tendency to see theological
concepts in narrow terms is problematic within the context of fundamental and
at times mysterious concepts in both theology and cosmology.
7 ‘Science-engaged theology is not itself a theological method’. University of
St. Andrews, What is Science-Engaged Theology?, https://set.wp.st-andrews.
ac.uk/about/what-is-science-engaged-theology/ (accessed February 15, 2021).
8 Given the potentially radical implications of multiverse theory, it has been
the subject of a number of postmodern theological and philosophical assess-
ments. In the course of the theological investigation of this book, I closely
attend to two such readings of multiverse theory, offered by Rubenstein and
Catherine Keller.
9 Since this book addresses the theology and science dialogue, I am primarily
concerned with bringing metaphysical insights from participatory thinkers
into contact with scientific multiverse models, rather than addressing some
of the specifically theological concerns arising from participation. Such con-
cerns might include Christological questions (regarding the role of Christ
in creation) or Trinitarian and salvific questions (regarding the relationship
between creation, incarnation, and salvation). While outside the scope of this
book, the role of participation in addressing these questions is integral to the
theologies of both Aquinas and Cusa. For further discussion of the theolog-
ical dimensions of participation in Aquinas’s thought, see Fergus Kerr, After
Aquinas: Versions of Thomism (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2002).
10 Of course, I do not mean to suggest that the three figures highlighted in
this book represent the full depth and complexity of the participatory tradi-
tion. There are many other consequential figures in the history of the tradi-
tion whose insights, imagery, and vocabulary could be profitably applied to
debates about the multiverse hypothesis, or theology and science in general. I
discuss such examples in the concluding chapter.
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 33
11 Given that ‘universe’ is commonly held to mean the totality of everything that
exists, there is scope for semantic confusion when the concept of ‘multiverse’
is introduced. Although there is no settled consensus on a precise definition
of the term, it will be sufficient for the purposes of this book to understand
‘multiverse’ to mean an ensemble of parallel or alternate universes, either
connected or disconnected from ours, with different physical constants,
depending on the specific model.
12 Physical constants are physical quantities (including the speed of light, grav-
ity, electromagnetism, and weak and strong nuclear forces) generally believed
to be universal and invariant.
13 Bernard Carr, ‘Introduction and overview’, in Bernard Carr (ed.), Universe or
Multiverse? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), pp. 3–4.
14 Tom Siegfried, The Number of the Heavens: A History of the Multiverse and
the Quest to Understand the Cosmos (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 2019), p. 247.
15 While this preliminary review of multiverse theories will provide a good
basis from which to develop the subsequent theological arguments, it is not
the purpose of this book to adjudicate between such theories, each of whose
details and overall scientific standing continue to be widely disputed. Instead,
I proceed on the basis that the existence of some kind of multiverse is scientif-
ically plausible, and I consider how theologians might reflect on this prospect.
16 Carr, ‘Introduction and overview’, p. 7.
17 Similarly, Stephen Hawking suggests that, just as the historic assumption of the
earth’s uniqueness was confounded, recent cosmological results indicate that
our universe is also one of many. See Stephen Hawking and Leonard Mlodinow,
The Grand Design (New York, NY: Bantam Books, 2010), p. 143.
18 The initial expression of inflationary cosmology is widely attributed to a
1981 paper by American cosmologist Alan Guth. See Alan H. Guth, ‘Infla-
tionary universe: A possible solution to the horizon and flatness problems’, in
Physical Review D 23 (1981), pp. 347–56.
19 Andrew Liddle and Jon Loveday, Oxford Companion to Cosmology (Oxford,
Oxford University Press, 2009), p. 76.
20 In 2014, the detection of apparent evidence of primordial gravitational
waves—ripples in spacetime created at the beginning of the universe’s exist-
ence and consistent with inflation—was widely reported. However, a subse-
quent report argued that interstellar dust could have influenced the results.
See http://arxiv.org/abs/1409.5738.
21 The principle exists in weak forms, whereby the fine-tuning is attributed
to selection bias in that only a life-supporting universe would enable life to
emerge to observe the fine-tuning, and in more contentious strong forms,
whereby the existence of observers somehow influences the constants such
that the universe is compelled to be such that human life would emerge. Like
the multiverse proposal, it is often criticised by scientists as more of a meta-
physical or religious statement indicative of our need for an ultimate explana-
tion. See John D. Barrow and Frank J. Tipler, The Anthropic Cosmological
Principle (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986).
22 John Polkinghorne, Science and Theology (London: SPCK, 1998), p. 75.
23 For a comprehensive survey of the history of design arguments, which draws
widely on theological, philosophical, and scientific literature, see Benjamin
C. Jantzen, An Introduction to Design Arguments (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2004). Jantzen argues that modern science has discredited
classical design arguments such as Aquinas’s fifth way (see footnote below),
but that the complexity and apparent purposive activities of natural systems
continue to require acknowledgement and explanation.
34 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
24 Aquinas, ST I.2.3. This is the fifth way of Aquinas’s ‘five ways’ to demon-
strate the existence of God. Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, trans. Fathers of
the English Dominican Province (London: Burns, Oates & Washbourne,
1920).
25 William Paley, Natural Theology, Matthew D. Eddy and David Knight (eds.)
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), pp. 7–31. More recently, intelligent
design advocate Michael Behe has offered an updated version of Paley’s anal-
ogy based on the idea of ‘irreducible complexity’ which rejects the possibility
of evolution through successive modifications of natural selection in favour
of complexity that must have been intelligently designed: ‘The observation of
the intelligent design of life is as momentous as the observation that the earth
goes around the sun’. Michael J. Behe, Darwin’s Black Box (New York, NY:
Free Press, 2006), pp. 232–3. In a 2005 U.S. trial on the teaching of intel-
ligent design in public schools, the court found that irreducible complexity
‘has been refuted in peer-reviewed research papers and has been rejected by
the scientific community at large’. See: https://law.justia.com/cases/federal/
district-courts/FSupp2/400/707/2414073/.
26 Martin Rees, Our Cosmic Habitat (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 2001), p. 164.
27 Bernard Carr quoted in Tim Folger, ‘Science’s Alternative to an Intelligent
Creator: the Multiverse Theory’, Discover, Dec 2008, http://discovermagazine.
com/2008/dec/10-sciences-alternative-to-an-intelligent-creator.
28 Princeton theoretical physicist Paul Steinhardt expresses this criticism in par-
ticularly hostile terms: ‘The multiverse idea is baroque, unnatural, untest-
able and, in the end, dangerous to science and society’. See http://www.
evolutionnews.org/2014/11/princeton_theor090901.html.
29 George Ellis, ‘Opposing the multiverse’, in Astronomy and Geophysics
49 (2008) 2.33.
30 George Ellis, ‘Multiverses: description, uniqueness, testing’, in Bernard Carr
(ed.), Universe or Multiverse? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2007), p. 401.
31 Ellis, ‘Multiverses: description, uniqueness, testing’, p. 397.
32 Martin Rees, Before the Beginning (London: Simon & Schuster, 1997),
p. 185.
33 Don N. Page, ‘Predictions and tests of multiverse theories’, in Bernard Carr
(ed.), Universe or Multiverse? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2007), p. 428.
34 Bernard Carr, ‘Defending the multiverse’, in Astronomy and Geophysics
49 (2008) 2.36.
35 As an alternative example, Brian Greene has identified nine types of paral-
lel universes: quilted, inflationary, brane, cyclic, landscape, quantum, holo-
graphic, simulated, and ultimate. Brian Greene, The Hidden Reality (New
York, NY: Random House, 2011).
36 Max Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, in Bernard Carr (ed.), Universe
or Multiverse? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), p. 99. For
a further development of the hierarchy see Max Tegmark, Our Mathemat-
ical Universe: My Quest for the Ultimate Nature of Reality (New York,
NY: Vintage Books, 2015). Rubenstein notes that Tegmark’s decision (as a
self-identified Platonist) to outline a ‘hierarchy’ is telling since it evokes the
Neoplatonic notion of a cosmic hierarchy of being with degrees of reality,
extending from objects to animals to humans to angels and finally to God.
Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 205.
37 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 100.
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 35
38 For example, Don Page’s treatment of Tegmark’s hierarchy groups Levels I to III
together (since he believes they can all come from a single universe) and IV sepa-
rately (which he rejects as ‘logically inconsistent and inconceivable’). Don Page,
‘Predictions and tests of multiverse theories’, in Bernard Carr (ed.), Universe or
Multiverse? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), p. 423.
39 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 102.
40 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 104.
41 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 104.
42 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 104.
43 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 102.
44 According to NASA, ‘all we can truly conclude is that the Universe is much
larger than the volume we can directly observe’. See http://map.gsfc.nasa.gov/
universe/uni_shape.html.
45 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 103.
46 Ellis, ‘Multiverses: description, uniqueness, testing’, p. 401.
47 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 107.
48 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 105.
49 Leomard Susskind, ‘The anthropic landscape of string theory’, in Bernard
Carr (ed.) Universe or Multiverse? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2007), p. 263.
50 Paul Steinhardt and Neil Turok, Endless Universe: Beyond the Big Bang
(New York, NY: Doubleday, 2007), p. 139.
51 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 107.
52 Steinhardt and Turok, Endless Universe: Beyond the Big Bang, p. 223.
53 Lee Smolin, The Life of the Cosmos (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1997).
54 Roberto Mangabeira Unger and Lee Smolin, The Singular Universe and the
Reality of Time (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), p. 119.
55 Indeed, the long-term plausibility of Level II will rest largely on the ability of
astrophysics and high-energy physics to clarify the extent to which various
physical constants are fine-tuned.
56 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 109.
57 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 113.
58 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 113.
59 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 116.
60 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 116.
61 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 116.
62 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 119.
63 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 121.
64 Ellis, ‘Multiverses: description, uniqueness, testing’, p. 401.
65 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 116.
66 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 118.
67 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 100.
68 This point will be considered further in the next section.
69 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 123.
70 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 236.
71 It should be noted that this overview is not intended to be exhaustive. For a
survey focused solely on the role played by multiverse theories in contempo-
rary philosophy and theology, see Klaas J. Kraay (ed.), God and the Multi-
verse (New York, NY: Routledge, 2015).
72 Carr, ‘Introduction and overview’, p. 16.
73 Christoph Schönborn, ‘Finding Design in Nature’, in New York Times, July
7, 2005, http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/07/opinion/07schonborn.html?_
r=0 (accessed February 15, 2021).
36 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
74 Here it should be noted that, even if some scientific multiverse proponents are
motivated by the desire to avoid theism, this fact alone would not be sufficient
to invalidate the theory. As discussed in Section 1.2, the scientific legitimacy
of the multiverse is related to issues of evidence, testing, and falsifiability.
75 In Ian Barbour’s influential fourfold typology of science and theology, the
‘conflict’ model holds that each discipline makes rival and irreconcilable
statements about the history of nature. The two historical cases often cited
as examples of conflict are Galileo’s advocacy of heliocentrism and Darwin’s
theory of evolution, both of which provoked religious opposition. Barbour’s
other models are independence, dialogue, and integration. See Ian Barbour,
Religion and Science (New York, NY: HarperCollins, 1997), pp. 77–105.
76 William Lane Craig, ‘Design and the anthropic fine-tuning of the Universe’,
in Neil Mansom (ed.), God and Design (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 171.
77 Manson, God and Design, p. 18.
78 As with scientific multiverse critiques, Level IV attracts a disproportionate
amount of theological attention. I will argue that theologians should not
overlook other multiverse models, particularly Levels I and II, which have
striking historical antecedents and might provide more constructive grounds
for mutual interaction.
79 Ockham’s original formulation is ‘plurality must not be asserted without
necessity’. Multiverse critics should recall that this is meant as a methodolog-
ical principle, not an ontological premise. William of Ockham, Philosophi-
cal Writings, trans., Philotheus Boehner and Stephen F. Brown (Cambridge:
Hackett Publishing Company, 1990), p. 193.
80 Keith Ward, The Big Questions in Science and Religion (West Consho-
hocken, PA: Templeton Press, 2008), pp. 233–4. In spite of his objections to
the Level IV model, he believes it to be less arbitrary (and thus more likely)
than the Level II and III scenarios, whose limited number of universes raise
the question of why such limits exist.
81 Ward, The Big Questions in Science and Religion, p. 235.
82 Rodney Holder, God, the Multiverse, and Everything (Aldershot, Hamp-
shire: Ashgate, 2004), p. 126.
83 Holder, God, the Multiverse, and Everything, pp. 109–110.
84 Holder, God, the Multiverse, and Everything, p. 126. In a presentation to
Christians in Science in 2006, Holder referred to Penrose’s calculations as
‘virtually a nail in the coffin for the multiverse idea but totally consistent with
design’. See http://cis.org.uk/upload/Resources/Universe/rodney_holder_
multiverse.pdf.
85 Paul Davies, ‘Universes galore: where will it all end?’, in Bernard Carr (ed.),
Universe or Multiverse? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007),
p. 497. Davies is an important figure in terms of offering scientific reflec-
tions on theology. He argues that the discoveries of twentieth-century phys-
ics could point to a unified description of creation that would provide more
persuasive answers to religious questions than religion itself. See Paul Davies,
God & The New Physics (New York, NY: Simon & Schuster, 1983).
86 Holder, God, the Multiverse, and Everything, p. 123.
87 Richard Swinburne, The Existence of God (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2004). Both Holder and Swinburne operate within the analytical tradition,
which often applies scientific, mathematical, and logical analysis to theolog-
ical questions in a way that neglects the historical depth and philosophical
richness of Christian theology.
88 Victor J. Stenger, God and the Multiverse (New York, NY: Prometheus
Books, 2015), p. 371.
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 37
89 Davies, ‘Universes galore: where will it all end?’, p. 495.
90 Davies, ‘Universes galore: where will it all end?’, p. 495.
91 Robert B. Mann, ‘Puzzled by particularity’, in Klaas J. Kraay (ed.), God and
the Multiverse (New York, NY: Routledge, 2015), p. 38. The relationship
between divine and cosmic infinity will be explored in Chapter 4.
92 Robert B. Mann, ‘Puzzled by particularity’, p. 38.
93 Robert B. Mann, ‘Puzzled by particularity’, p. 39.
94 Simon Conway Morris, Life’s Solution: Inevitable Humans in a Lonely Uni-
verse (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003).
95 See Chapter 4 for further discussion of Cusa’s view that creativity in the cos-
mos is a manifestation and unfolding of divine creativity.
96 SCG II.24.5. Aquinas, Summa Contra Gentiles, trans. Joseph Kenny (New
York, NY: Hanover House, 1955). See Chapter 3 for further discussion of
Aquinas.
97 Robin Collins, ‘The multiverse hypothesis: a theistic perspective’, in Bernard
Carr (ed.), Universe or Multiverse? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2007), p. 460.
98 Robert Spitzer, New Proofs for the Existence of God (Grand Rapids, MI:
Eerdmans, 2010), p. 73.
99 Collins, ‘The multiverse hypothesis: a theistic perspective’, p. 464. For a sim-
ilar argument, which maintains the compatibility of scripture and scientific
multiverse theory, see Jeffrey Zweernick, Who’s Afraid of the Multiverse?
(Pasadena, CA: Reasons to Believe, 2008).
100 Ward, The Big Questions in Science and Religion, p. 235.
101 Ward, The Big Questions in Science and Religion, p. 235.
102 William R. Stoeger, ‘Are anthropic arguments, involving multiverses and
beyond, legitimate?’, in Bernard Carr (ed.) Universe or Multiverse? (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), p. 456.
103 Peter Forrest, ‘Multiverses and Theism’, in Klaas J. Kraay (ed.), God and the
Multiverse (New York, NY: Routledge, 2015), p. 82.
104 Peter Forrest, ‘Multiverses and Theism’, p. 85. Yujin Nagasawa has observed
that the problem of evil becomes particularly acute for multiverse pantheism,
since God encompasses all possible evil states of affairs. Presumably Forrest
would respond that, in his model, God only brings about some universes,
according to a certain set of (non-evil) values. Yujin Nagasawa, ‘Multiverse
Pantheism’, in Klaas J. Kraay (ed.), God and the Multiverse (New York, NY:
Routledge, 2015), p. 186.
105 Don Page, ‘Does God So Love the Multiverse?’, January 17, 2008, available
through arXiv/0801.0246, p. 7. I will engage with Page’s multiverse thought
in Chapter 3.3.
106 Don Page, ‘Does God So Love the Multiverse?’, p. 13.
107 Don Page, ‘Does God So Love the Multiverse?’, p. 19.
108 Don Page, ‘Does God So Love the Multiverse?’, p. 20.
109 John Leslie, ‘God and many universes’, in Klaas J. Kraay (ed.), God and the
Multiverse (New York, NY: Routledge, 2015), pp. 199–200.
110 Contemporary analytical philosophy of religion has tended to address the
multiverse proposal in terms of its implications for logical problems, includ-
ing possible worlds, the problem of evil, divine freedom, extraterrestrial intel-
ligence, and the incarnation. See Klaas J. Kraay (ed.), God and the Multiverse
(New York, NY: Routledge, 2015).
111 Davies, ‘Universes galore: where will it all end?’, p. 495.
112 Ellis, ‘Multiverses: description, uniqueness, testing’, p. 406.
113 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, pp. 220, 226.
38 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics
114 Although this book focuses on participation as a philosophical concept, there
is also a rich scriptural tradition in which God is understood as the source of
all things, through whom ‘all things were made’, without whom ‘nothing was
made that has been made’ (John 1:3), and from whom all things receive and
share in being, as in St Paul’s declaration (drawing on Greek poetry) that in
God ‘we live and move and have our being’ (Acts 17:28).
115 For the most comprehensive recent survey of participation and its application
to a wide range of Christian theological topics, see Andrew Davison, Partici-
pation in God: A Study in Christian Doctrine and Metaphysics (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2019). For a helpful overview of the historical
and philosophical aspects of participation, see also Jacob H. Sherman, ‘A
genealogy of participation’, in Jorge N. Ferrer and Jacob H. Sherman (eds.),
The Participatory Turn (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2008),
pp. 81–112.
116 For further discussion of Plato’s role in participatory thought, see Karl Jas-
pers, Plato and Augustine (New York, NY: Harvest Books, 1962), pp. 28–35.
117 Sherman, ‘A genealogy of participation’, p. 83.
118 Plato, Phaedo, 78–80. Plato, The Collected Dialogues of Plato Including the
Letters, Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns (eds.) (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1961). Unless otherwise referenced, all Plato texts will be
sourced here.
119 Plato, Timaeus. This dialogue will be considered extensively in the following
chapter.
120 For an extended discussion of how participation bears upon love and desire
from a Christian perspective, see Davison, Participation in God, pp. 327–47.
121 Plato, Symposium, 206a.
122 Plato, Symposium, 211c.
123 Plato, Phaedrus, 249e.
124 While Aristotle is generally regarded as standing in a more complex and
antagonistic relation to a participatory outlook, his work is inescapably influ-
enced by his teacher Plato and bears traces and hints of participatory ways of
thinking. For a compelling rejoinder to those who interpret the two in rigidly
polarised terms of conflict, see Lloyd Gerson, Aristotle and Other Platonists
(Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2006).
125 Aristotle, Metaphysics, trans., Hugh Lawson-Tancred (London: Penguin
Books, 2004), 991a.
126 W. Norris Clarke, The One and The Many: A Contemporary Thomistic Met-
aphysic (Notre Dame, 2007), p. 318.
127 For a useful discussion of the importance of Aquinas’s essence/existence dis-
tinction for the metaphysical foundations on which he argues for God’s exist-
ence, see Gaven Kerr, OP, Aquinas’s Way to God: The Proof in De Ente et
Essentia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015).
128 SCG I.12.7.
129 ST I.15.2.
130 SCG II.18.2.
131 Augustine draws on Plato’s idea of creaturely participation in the divine mind
with his view that physical beauty and order in the universe point to its eter-
nal source: ‘The supreme beauty, you give distinct form to all things and by
your law impose order on everything’. Augustine, Confessions, trans., Henry
Chadwick (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 10. Anselm follows
this reasoning with his argument for a perfect being as the basis for degrees
of perfection in the world. See Anselm, Monologion and Proslogion, trans.
Thomas Williams (Indianapolis, IN: Hackett Publishing Company, 1996).
 Introducing the multiverse and participatory metaphysics 39
132 Francis Bacon, De Augmentis Scientiarum, Bk 3 Ch 2, in John M. Robertson
(ed.), The Philosophical Works of Francis Bacon (London: Routledge, 1905),
p. 456.
133 Kant despairs of ‘so much trouble and labour lost’ in the philosophical argu-
ments provoked by Anselm’s movement from degrees of perfection to the
existence of a perfect being. Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, trans.,
P. Guyer and A. W. Wood (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998),
p. 569.
134 Sherman, ‘A genealogy of participation’, p. 92.
135 Sherman, ‘A genealogy of participation’, pp. 94–102.
136 Alfred North Whitehead, Process and Reality (New York, NY: The Free
Press, 1978), p. 23.
137 Paul Tillich, Dynamics of Faith (New York, NY: Harper & Row, 1957).
138 John Milbank, Graham Ward, and Catherine Pickstock are the leading
figures in the radical orthodoxy movement, of which the ‘central theologi-
cal framework…is “participation” as developed by Plato and reworked by
Christianity, because any alternative configuration perforce reserves a terri-
tory independent of God’. See John Milbank, Graham Ward and Catherine
Pickstock, ‘Suspending the material: the turn of radical orthodoxy’, in John
Milbank, Catherine Pickstock and Graham Ward (eds.) Radical Orthodoxy
(London: Routledge, 1999), p. 3.
139 For important examples of this development, see W. Norris Clarke, The One
and The Many: A Contemporary Thomistic Metaphysics (Notre Dame, IN:
University of Notre Dame Press, 2001); Rudi te Velde, Participation and
Substantiality in Thomas Aquinas (Leiden: Brill, 1995); Cornelio Fabro,
Participation et Causalité Selon St. Thomas d’Aquin (Louvain: Publications
Universitaires de Louvain, 1961); Louis Bertrand Geiger, La Participation
Dans La Philosophie de S. Thomas d’Aquin (Paris: Vrin, 1942).
2 Plato on multiplicity

In this chapter, I will bring Platonic participatory metaphysics into con-

structive mutual interaction with key figures in the appraisal of multiverse
theory in the theology and science dialogue. Plato, as the father of Western
participatory thinking, provides a logical starting point for engaging sys-
tematically with questions of cosmic multiplicity, which will be the theme of
this chapter. He understands the physical cosmos to be a participation in a
real and unchanging intelligible realm. All constituent parts of the universe
are good and intelligible in so far as they participate in, or approximate
to, a perfect and eternal model. The governing principle of his creation
account is both participatory and teleological: the universe as a whole and
its constituent parts exist in a complex relation of participation in order to
produce a beautiful, harmonious, and orderly cosmos. Cosmic multiplicity
within a participatory cosmos is central to Plato’s vision, and therefore pro-
vides fertile ground to engage with the radical multiplicity and complexity
evident in multiverse theory.
The structure of the chapter is as follows. Initially, I will provide a general
overview of Plato’s doctrine of metaphysical participation, with particular
reference to the development of his participatory thought in the Phaedo,
Parmenides, Sophist, Philebus, and Symposium. Second, I will focus spe-
cifically on participation in the Timaeus, Plato’s wonderfully elaborate,
deeply metaphysical, and historically consequential account of the creation
of the universe. While the Timaeus is sometimes referenced in theologi-
cal discussions of multiverse thought, this book offers the first sustained
engagement with its participatory dimension and suggests ways in which
this dimension might come into productive contact with multiverse ideas
and theories.
In the subsequent three sections, I will draw on the metaphysical inher-
itance provided by Plato, which is almost entirely neglected in theologi-
cal responses to multiverse thought, and critically engage with important
thinkers in the contemporary theology and science dialogue. In each case,
my goal is to demonstrate the urgently needed theological and philosophical
depth that a participatory outlook offers to this conversation. First, I will
take up the concluding thought in Mary-Jane Rubenstein’s recent volume

DOI: 10.4324/9781003014553-2
 Plato on multiplicity 41
that the multiverse proposal raises fundamental metaphysical implications.
I will apply this logic to her own account of the Timaeus and I will also sug-
gest ways in which such a metaphysical perspective can enhance theologi-
cal engagement with multiverse theory, such as Laura Mersini-Houghton’s
model of a ‘connected’ multiverse. Second, I will evaluate Max Tegmark’s
provocative identification of Platonism with multiverse theory. I will argue
that a properly metaphysical understanding of Plato would strengthen cer-
tain aspects of Tegmark’s influential multiverse hierarchy in ironic and
unexpected ways. Third, I will consider Verity Harte’s discussion of meta-
physical structure, which is of particular relevance in the creation account
of the Timaeus. I will identify an underdeveloped strand of participatory
thinking in her work in order to highlight new ways of thinking about a
multiverse model from a theological perspective.

2.1 Plato on participation

In this section, I will provide a general overview of Plato’s participatory
metaphysics, which he develops to bridge the ontological gap between
the physical and intelligible realms, with a view to providing a relational
structure in which the two realms might be defined, explained, and rec-
onciled. With this general background in mind, I will then consider his
notion of participation in the Phaedo, Parmenides, Sophist, Philebus, and
Symposium. It is important to consider the range of his participatory works
in this manner for two reasons: first, to demonstrate the development in
his language and thought over time; and second, to provide the broader
context in which to consider participation in the Timaeus, which inherits
and preserves the theory of participation in the other dialogues, and which
I will discuss at length in the following section.
The concept of participation (methexis)1 has a long and complex his-
tory in Western thought. In general terms, it refers to a relational structure
whereby beings share to varying degrees in a quality or perfection, received
from a source that exemplifies this perfection. Thus, for Plato, to be beauti-
ful is to participate in the Form of Beauty itself. He is the first major figure
to employ participation not just in the trivially familiar sense of sharing in
something, but as a fundamental philosophical idea intended to make sense
of a world in which divinity seems to be at once immediately present and
radically distant.
While his participatory turn was itself singular and momentous, it was
also a function of the long-standing and fraught dilemma in ancient Greek
philosophy of how to reconcile the sensible and intelligible realms. Amidst
a mystifying physical world of decay, change, and contingency, the intelli-
gible realm—eternal, immutable, perfect—seemed to many ancient Greek
thinkers to be of an entirely different order. In addition, the transience and
fragility of the physical world—the troubling sense that it does not contain
its own reason for being—appeared to represent an inadequate basis for
42 Plato on multiplicity
the possibility of intelligibility and value, and therefore for long-term social
cohesion and security in an unpredictable world bedevilled by conflict
and war.
In Plato’s metaphysical vision, reality consists of the intelligible realm of
the Forms and the sensible realm of physical particulars, the material things
comprising our everyday experiences yet not self-grounding and always sub-
ject to change. Although these two realms should be clearly distinguished,
they are not to be thought of as entirely separate or different. They share
a constitutive relationship, with participation (or methexis) explaining the
connection of one realm to the other. To return to the example of beauty
mentioned above, a beautiful flower is beautiful by virtue of its partici-
pation in the Form of Beauty itself. In this scheme, the flower embodies
and exemplifies the Form of Beauty in its own physical mode. The Form is
ontologically different, yet fundamentally related as the constitutive cause
of being (or beauty) in the participating being. The two realms are thus nei-
ther identical nor wholly different, but share a participatory and, in a sense,
causal relationship: a beautiful flower is not just incidentally beautiful, but
embodies Beauty by virtue of a constitutive relationship to (the Form of)
Beauty itself. The notion of ‘cause’ in participation—with the Form of
Beauty as the cause which makes things beautiful by its presence within
them—will be considered further in the discussion of the Phaedo below.

2.1.1 Phaedo
The Phaedo, a seminal dialogue of Plato’s middle period, 2 is the first text in
which he discusses methexis. This arises in a dialogue between Cebes and
Socrates in which the latter reflects on his youthful excitement with natu-
ral science and explanations of causes, including how things occur in the
heavens and on earth. He describes Anaxagoras’ stated view that ‘mind’
directs and causes all things, and that everything is arranged for the best
in a teleological manner such that, for example, the heavenly bodies move
the way they do because this is the best possible way for them to be. Upon
closer study, though, Socrates came to believe that Anaxagoras did not in
fact attribute causality for the order of the world to mind, but rather to
reductive materialist explanations such as air, ether, and water. He sees this
kind of explanation—which would attribute his presence in the room to his
bones and sinews—as ‘a very lax and inaccurate form of expression. Fancy
being unable to distinguish between the cause of a thing and the condition
without which it could not be a cause!’3
Having rejected as unacceptable the materialist explanations of his
youth, Socrates formulates his own alternative approach, widely referred
to as his ‘second voyage’.4 This nautical metaphor refers to the moment
at which the natural progression of a journey with wind in the sails (rep-
resenting the easy answers of the naturalists) is interrupted by an absence
of wind, necessitating a second voyage made with the strenuous effort of
 Plato on multiplicity 43
rowing (representing the new method of ascending to the intelligible realm
of the Forms and grasping the real truth of things). As noted earlier, this
new approach entails the twofold classification of reality into the sensible
realm and the intelligible realm of the Forms. In the latter case, he assumes
‘the existence of absolute beauty and goodness and magnitude’.5
In his next crucial participatory step, Socrates employs these Forms as
explanations for all other things: ‘It seems to me that whatever else is beau-
tiful apart from absolute beauty is beautiful because it partakes of that
absolute beauty, and for no other reason’.6 To explain beauty in terms of
colour or shape or any other attribute is to fall into Anaxagoras’ error of
reductionism. Instead, he encourages his interlocutor to consider the par-
ticipatory ‘explanation that the one thing that makes that object beautiful
is the presence in it or association with it, in whatever way the relation
comes about, of absolute beauty… it is by beauty that beautiful things are
beautiful’.7 In other words, participation expresses a relational order of
being. The flower is beautiful by virtue of its relationship to Beauty itself,
not because beauty is attributed or assigned to it in terms of its colour or
shape. It is by Beauty that beautiful things are beautiful. Likewise, it is by
Largeness that large things are large, and by Smallness that small things
are small.
In response to this preliminary participatory account—a ‘makeshift
approach’ to which Socrates clings ‘no doubt foolishly’8 —one might ask
how it is possible for the Form of Beauty to be present in many differ-
ent things, and whether the Form might have something in common with
them. Here Socrates introduces a threefold participatory structure: the
Form (such as Beauty), which exists in the intelligible realm; the partici-
pated quality or perfection (beauty), which exists in many ways in different
beautiful things in our physical realm; and the thing that participates in the
form (such as a flower or a human), which receives the participated beauty
by which it is beautiful.9 The second factor—the participated perfection,
or the Form-in-the-thing—enables the transcendent Form to exist as an
immanent perfection in different ways in different participants. In this way,
a single Form can be in many different participants and have something
in common with them. It is because of this commonality that participants
may be named and identified accordingly: ‘the various forms exist, and the
reason why other things are called after the forms is that they participate
in the forms’.10 As the dialogue shifts to the issue of the immortality of the
soul, any misgivings about the relationship of participated perfections to
Forms and participants are left to be further discussed in the Parmenides.

2.1.2 Parmenides
In this complex dialogue,11 which in many ways takes up some of the
unanswered questions raised by the Phaedo, Socrates defends his theory
of participation against a series of powerful criticisms by Parmenides. In
44 Plato on multiplicity
particular, he addresses the above-referenced problem, only tentatively
explored in the Phaedo, of how it might be possible for a single Form to
be present in many different participants: ‘Then each thing that partakes
receives as its share either the form as a whole or part of it? Or can there
be any other way of partaking besides this?’12 Given the description in the
Phaedo of Forms as immutable, eternal, and divine, it would be incoherent
to suppose that a single Form might be divided among many participants.
Yet for a Form to be present entirely in a thing also seems to be unaccept-
able, given that the two realms, while related, are nevertheless ontologically
distinct.
Socrates therefore proposes an alternative view of Forms as ‘patterns
fixed in the nature of things. The other things are made in their image
and are likenesses, and this participation they come to have in the Forms
is nothing but their being made in their image’.13 So a participant is not
merely like the Form in which it partakes, but is made (or caused) to be like
it, and exists as an image of it. This causation is the result of the direction
of the Form as an exemplary cause (which refers to the pattern or model
conceived by an intelligent being to bring about some effect) and the men-
tal activity of the physical and intelligent agent as an efficient cause (which
refers to the agent that produces the action). Both of these causalities are
the subject of further examination in the Sophist, which will be discussed
in the next sub-section.
With this notion of participation of things existing as the image of Forms,
it is possible to more clearly understand the origin of participated perfec-
tions and the way in which many participants might share in the same Form.
To return to the earlier example of beauty, the Form of Beauty produces
beauty exemplarily by directing the participant towards beauty through its
intelligent activity. The combination of the direction of the Form as source
and pattern, and the efficient activity of the agent, means that the Form
can represent the source of many participated perfections, which remain
distinct from the Forms and the participants. Thus, the participated per-
fection of beauty enables the participant to be beautiful, enables the Form
of Beauty to be present in the participant, and represent the commonality
between the Form and its many different participants. The Form of Beauty
is not divided or weakened, but remains entirely what it is (as described in
the Phaedo) while also being shared in by many participants through the
participations of beauty.
It is worth noting that the idea of Forms as patterns in nature presented in
this part of the Parmenides is significant in terms of Aristotle’s criticism of
participation and, in particular, what came to be known as the Third Man
argument. As noted earlier, Aristotle believes that the Forms lack explan-
atory power and that the notion of things participating in them is akin to
poetry rather than philosophy. To a certain degree, Plato himself seems to
anticipate such criticism of participatory thinking in the form of Parmenides’
criticisms.14 In a piece of reasoning that was further developed by Aristotle
 Plato on multiplicity 45
and came to be known as the ‘Third Man’ argument, Parmenides suggests
that participatory metaphysics implies an infinite regress in the sense that if
something (such as a beautiful flower) is what it is by virtue of participation
in the form of what it is, then a third form would be required to account for
what both the thing and its form are, and so on. On this account, partic-
ipation merely adds another thing or realm to be explained, which would
itself then require explanation, ad infinitum.
While the logical structure of this argument has been the subject of
intense philosophical scrutiny,15 it overlooks the radical difference in the
ontological status of that which participates and that in which it partic-
ipates. For Plato, the realm of the Forms is not equivalent or comparable
to the sensible realm. Rather, the Forms are transcendent and should not
therefore be understood in the same terms as imperfect physical entities.
There are many beautiful things that might participate in the Form of
Beauty, but the Form itself is not just another thing to which other beautiful
things can be compared, but a wholly different order of being. In addition,
the criticism of an infinite regress does not take into account the third fac-
tor of participated perfections, and the way in which they relate to Forms
and participants, as described above.

2.1.3 Sophist
The Sophist is a late Platonic dialogue in which he continues to develop
his metaphysics having subjected the theory of participation to sustained
criticism in the Parmenides. He provides additional clarification about the
causal factors of participation, particularly in terms of the efficient causal-
ity of the intelligent participant. If such an agent, operating on the basis of
intelligence, is central to participation (as is the Form as model or pattern),
then intelligence itself must be of a higher order than might generally be sup-
posed. In a rhetorical flourish at the end of a debate about reality between
two characters—‘a battle of gods and giants’,16 or whether reality is phys-
ical or non-physical—Plato (through the words of the Stranger) appears
to elevate intelligence to the same level of reality occupied by the Forms:
‘But tell me, in heaven’s name, are we really to be so easily convinced that
change, life, soul, understanding have no place in that which is perfectly
real—that it has neither life nor thought, but stands immutable in solemn
aloofness, devoid of intelligence?’17
Since intelligence is so valuable that it should be regarded as perfectly
real, it is reasonable to infer that Plato similarly believes that the kind of
efficient causality brought out about by intelligent participating agents is
a vital aspect of participation. In his final analysis of the philosopher who
truly values intelligence, he dismisses the false dichotomy of the gods/giants
battle in which reality is either changeless (the Forms) or changing (intel-
ligence). Instead, the philosopher must declare that ‘reality or the sum of
things is both at once—all that is unchangeable and all that is in change’.18
46 Plato on multiplicity
In participatory terms, this suggests that a comprehensive vision of real-
ity includes both exemplary and efficient causes (the Forms and intelligent
agents) as key factors in allowing the multiplicity of creation to participate
in the eternal, divine, immutable Forms.
Plato goes on to employ the metaphor of divine and human artistry to
illustrate the nature of exemplarity in participation, which will also be
an important aspect considered in the discussion of the Timaeus below.
He argues that all physical things in our sensible world come into being,
not as a result of spontaneous natural causes, but ‘divine craftsmanship’.19
Everything in existence is a product of divine artistry, coming from ‘a cause
which, working with reason and art, is divine and proceeds from divin-
ity’. 20 Just as a human artist might build or paint according to a certain
model or pattern, so the divine Forms produce effects according to a pat-
tern. Each thing in our human realm has been made as a likeness of, and
a participation in, that divine pattern, such that there are two products of
divine workmanship, ‘the original and the image that in every case accom-
panies it’. 21 In this sense, the entire physical universe is defined and ordered
by participation, with the universe itself standing as a work of divine art, a
likeness of its perfect image.

2.1.4 Philebus
In the Philebus, generally agreed to have been composed in the last two
decades of his life, Plato returns to the problem of participation, particu-
larly in terms of how Forms might relate to particulars in the sensible
world. In the dialogue, Socrates confronts the dilemma of the vast diver-
sity and multiplicity of being. This threatens to collapse into the kind of
infinite regress discussed earlier: he suggests that the one-many dilemma
is central to the plausibility of the Forms themselves; that is, how it can
be possible for Forms to retain their unity if they are, so to speak, split up
or divided among an indefinite number of sensible particulars: ‘[how are
we to conceive of] this single unity [that] subsequently comes to be in the
infinite number of things that come into being—an identical unity being
thus found simultaneously in unity and in plurality’. 22 Socrates argues that
all things consist of a one and a many, ‘and have in their nature a conjunc-
tion of limit and unlimitedness’. 23
Socrates proceeds to delineate a fourfold classification of beings. First,
he describes the Unlimited, encompassing all that allows an indefinite var-
iation in magnitude or degree. For instance, he believes that temperature is
indicative of an unlimited or boundless quality, since anything can be hot-
ter or colder than it already is: ‘Once you give definite quantity to “hotter”
and “colder” they cease to be; “hotter” never stops where it is but is always
going a point further, and the same applies to “colder”; whereas definite
quantity is something that has to be stopped going on and is fixed. It fol-
lows therefore from what I say that “hotter”, and its opposite with it, must
 Plato on multiplicity 47
be unlimited’. 24 Second, Socrates describes Limit, which refers to whatever
does not allow for variance, such as precise mathematical numbers, ratios,
and measurements. Third, there is said to be a ‘mixture’ or combination
of both of these constituents in which the precision of limit is applied to a
magnitude of a certain (unlimited) quality in the correct proportion. For
example, there is a definite ratio or balance of ‘hot’ or ‘cold’ or ‘moist’ or
‘dry’ indicative of good health, and which at a certain point should not be
further modified. The process of changing a quality such as temperature
and then arriving at a determination of the correct ratio (at which limit
can measure and regulate potentially unlimited degrees of variance) is,
according to Socrates, a ‘coming-into-being’. 25 Fourth, Socrates attributes
the agent responsible for the process of bringing proper mixtures into being
to a kind of universal intelligence that imposes limit on the unlimited and
thereby facilitates all perfections such as goodness, beauty, and truth.
With this fourfold classification of being, Plato suggests that a met-
aphysics of participation is the only way to reconcile the one and the
many, to bring meaning and coherence to the multiplicity of reality, and
to help bridge the gap between the sensible and intelligible realms. The
third category of mixture, which might be associated with the way in
which universals (or Forms) can exist in diverse concrete particulars,
is directed by divine intelligence (the fourth category) working as an
exemplary cause. With the Limit and Unlimited reconciled in mixture,
which is itself ordered towards and participating in divine intelligence,
it becomes possible for the philosopher to begin to bring order to the
cosmos.

2.1.5 Symposium
In the Symposium, Plato depicts his celebrated metaphysical ascent to abso-
lute beauty in powerfully participatory language. This ascent expresses
his central participatory insight that what lies beyond the human realm
is eternal and most important. He depicts love as the essential element in
stirring the soul to seek its creator; it ‘longs for the good to be his own for-
ever’. 26 The ascent towards beauty and divinity begins with love of physical
beauty, then recognition of the beauty of the soul, and then recognition of
institutional and intellectual beauty, and ultimately apprehension of divine
beauty, in which every other beautiful thing participates: ‘the quest for the
universal beauty must find him ever mounting the heavenly ladder, stepping
from rung to rung… to the special lore that pertains to nothing but the
beautiful itself—until at last he comes to know what beauty is’.27 Given
the centrality of participation to Plato’s thought, to live a good life is to be
drawn by desire and love towards the beauty of participation. This might
be thought of as the aesthetic side of participation. The beauty and pleni-
tude and perfection of the intelligible realm draw finite beings towards their
perfection. For Plato, beauty is an alluring force which inspires and moves
48 Plato on multiplicity
us, towards knowledge and wisdom, but also towards what lies beyond our
own physical realm. 28
In fact, the role of love in Platonic participatory metaphysics is related to
the cosmological account of the universe’s features in the Timaeus, to be
discussed in the following section. Physical motion is generated by the onto-
logical gap between eternal perfection and physical finitude. The beauty
and perfection of ideal being in the intelligible realm draws created being in
our contingent physical world towards its perfection. In this sense, motion
itself is the mechanism by which finite beings participate in and embody the
perfection of the intelligible realm. The desire for beauty, driven by love,
draws us towards participation in perfection: ‘For Plato, then, insofar as he
makes participation central, the good life, the religious life, and the philo-
sophic life come together in an erotic journey toward the persistent discov-
ery of beauty in the participatory mediations of the phenomenal world’. 29

2.1.6 Summary
In Plato’s metaphysical vision, the physical realm in all of its complexity
and multiplicity exists in a relation of participation in the divine realm.
In the Phaedo, he explains how things participate in their Forms, which
cause the things to be what they are through the presence of participated
perfections. In the Parmenides and the Sophist, he connects participation
with exemplary and efficient causality to explain the production of partic-
ipated perfections without compromising the unity or the transcendence
of the Forms. In the Philebus, he applies a metaphysic of participation to
account for the multiplicity of the physical universe, while he provides vivid
and poetic metaphors of the ascent to the divine realm of the Forms in the
Symposium, as well as in the Phaedrus and the Republic. In light of the
foregoing ideas and themes, it will now be instructive to focus in detail on
the Timaeus, whose participatory metaphysical framework is directed to
cosmological ends and is therefore of particular relevance to the dialogue
with scientific multiverse theory.30

2.1.7 Timaeus
In this section, I will discuss Plato’s cosmological account of the formation
of the universe, with particular focus on its participatory language and
themes, which broadly preserve the theory of participation inherited from
the other dialogues. The reason for giving over a full section to consider
participation in the Timaeus is that, as will be seen in the following sec-
tion, this dialogue is often cited in theological studies of multiverse theory
as an important historical example of a philosophical system that rejects
cosmic pluralism. However, such a literal and narrow reading misses the
profound value of the text’s rich and complex participatory thought. In
the Timaeus, the physical world of change is depicted as a likeness of its
 Plato on multiplicity 49
intelligible archetype, a world which finds its meaning only in its origin and
participation in the divine realm of the Forms.
Initially, I will discuss the participatory metaphysics underpinning his
cosmological vision in the Timaeus. I will demonstrate how Plato’s met-
aphysics of participation expresses the connection between the sensible
and the intelligible world. I will then focus on the important concept
of the Receptacle, which functions as the fundamental participant in
our physical universe. In the subsequent three sections of this chapter,
I will draw on Plato’s participatory metaphysics, with specific attention
to the Timaeus, in order to engage with three key thinkers in contem-
porary multiverse discourse at the intersection of science, theology, and
philosophy.

2.1.7.1 Cosmology and participation

The question of whether reality is one or many is perhaps given its most sig-
nificant philosophical expression among Plato’s dialogues in the elaborate
and multifaceted dialogue of the Timaeus, written in the fourth century BC
during the later stages of his career. Its titular character asks, ‘Are we right
in saying that there is one world, or that they are many and infinite?’31 For
Timaeus, arguing against the contemporary atomistic belief in innumerable
worlds, the universe’s eternity can only be secured by its singularity as one
permanent universe, unthreatened by any ‘external’ realities or forces. He
seeks to describe the creation and the nature of the cosmos, in a way that is
scientific insofar as it delineates an orderly cosmos which behaves accord-
ing to certain harmonious proportions and patterns, but also theological
insofar as the cosmos is understood as an active, living, complex realm of
becoming, and in terms of its participation in its transcendent origin and
purpose.
Initially—and pace the later Aristotelian critique of participation as
introducing a kind of unhelpful poetical ambiguity and perhaps even an
entirely new layer of complexity—it is important to recognise that the
Timaeus is inescapably and intentionally poetic. In its imaginative treat-
ment of the rational ordering of the cosmos, patterned on and participat-
ing in its eternal source, the dialogue should not be interpreted narrowly
and literally in the way one might review scientific literature. Given the
changing nature of the cosmos and its constituent parts, Plato’s participa-
tory vision is inherently poetic, imprecise, incomplete, and at times even
inconsistent. That is not, however, to say that the dialogue (and, in par-
ticular, Plato’s participatory metaphysics) is not intended to express truth.
The participatory character of the dialogue is a kind of truth that cannot
be subjected to the modern logic or language of materialism.32 In this way,
it might be said that the theological exploration undertaken in this book is
patterned on the Timaeus to the extent that it calls for a view of reality that
allows for scientific and mathematical reflection, broadly and imaginatively
50 Plato on multiplicity
conceived, within a view of creation as a sacramental order of signs convey-
ing deeper theological truths.
For Plato, the order and beauty of the universe are significant and worthy
of careful consideration and explanation. While his protagonist Timaeus
follows his Atomist predecessors in maintaining that the formation of the
cosmos represented an ordering of disorder, he differs in attributing this
process not to the mindless work of a random principle, but to the creative,
purposeful creation of a divine craftsman, or creator God, the ‘Demiurge’.
This Demiurge imposes order upon preexistent visible chaos to create a uni-
verse that is good and ordered by necessity and emblematic of an unchang-
ing and eternal model: ‘God desired that all things should be good and
nothing bad… out of disorder he brought order, considering that this was
in every way better than the other’.33 The visible universe is declared to be a
living creature made in the likeness of (and therefore a participation in) an
eternal original, a kind of generic Form of Living Being containing within
it the Forms of all species that inhabit the cosmos: ‘But let us suppose the
world to be the very image of that whole of which all other [beings] are
portions. For the original of the universe contains in itself all intelligible
beings, just as this world comprehends us and all other visible creatures’.34
In other words, the Demiurge, finding the universe to be disordered and
inharmonious, fashioned it after the likeness of an eternal model belonging
to the divine realm of Forms from which it derives its being and meaning.
This eternal model, according to which the Demiurge generates order
out of existing chaos, exists independently of the Demiurge. For Plato, this
Form of the Living Creature contains within it the Forms that correspond
with the different kinds of creatures and parts in our visible world. On this
account, the whole visible universe is a living creature, participating in and
corresponding with the intelligible living creature. As a consequence, the
physical universe—as an image of, or participant in, divine perfection—is
‘the greatest, best, fairest, most perfect’.35 Since the Form of the Living
Being, serving as the model to direct divine creative activity, is the most
ideal and complete intelligible reality, it follows that our universe’s sharing
in its perfection provides the highest degree of goodness and beauty for the
whole and each of its constituent parts.
In spite of his initial emphasis on cosmic singularity, Plato proceeds to
radically complicate his cosmological portrait with layers of multiplicity
and complexity. The world’s body, he reports, consists of water, air, fire,
and earth, carefully proportioned to provide the highest degree of inter-
nal unity.36 The world’s soul, which was made before the body and might
therefore be expected to be immaterial, is in fact composed of a bewil-
dering mixture of mixtures. With mystifying symbolism whose precise
meaning is not entirely clear and has been variously interpreted, Timaeus
explains that, in addition to ‘indivisible existence’ (the eternal realm of
perfect being) and ‘divisible existence’ (the temporal world of becoming),
the Demiurge adds and mixes ‘a third and intermediate kind of being’.37 He
 Plato on multiplicity 51
fashions a ‘compound intermediate’ between sameness and difference, and
finally blends the three together into one form. Although the world soul
thereby comprises one form, it is a mixture with many components and
subdivisions. In this way, the very soul of the cosmos is an entanglement
of, and multifaceted negotiation between, sameness and difference, oneness
and multiplicity.
For Plato, both the world soul and all individual souls in the cosmos
belong to and participate in the realms of both being and becoming. As
eternal and indestructible, the soul bears a likeness to the unchanging
Forms in the divine realm, and particularly the eternal model on which all
of creation is patterned. At the same time, though, the soul is unlike the
Forms in the sense that it is alive and intelligent and therefore subject to the
contingencies of change and time. Like Nicholas of Cusa’s idea of an infinite
God without centre and circumference (to be discussed in Chapter 4),
Plato’s world soul is described as extended throughout the centre and cir-
cumference of creation: ‘And in the center he [the Demiurge] put the soul,
which he diffused throughout the body, making it also to be the exterior
environment of it, and he made the universe a circle moving in a circle’. 38
In this sense, it shares in the divided, third form of being mentioned above,
extending to and pervading every part and every living creature in the cos-
mos. This is the intermediate form of existence, mixing the temporal and
eternal realms. Individual souls comprise the inferior residue of the world
soul, and are ultimately embodied in physical bodies.
Having subverted his own insistence on oneness, Timaeus proceeds to
subvert his entire creation narrative by abruptly deciding to ‘return again
and find another suitable beginning’. 39 This is because, he explains, the
Demiurge has been acting subject to limitations over which he has no con-
trol, and that—halfway through the story—it is now necessary to go back
to the real beginning of the story, not to discuss divine intelligence, but to
consider the governing principle of ‘necessity’. In the first part of the dia-
logue, it could be said that Plato was observing the universe from above
and beyond, while the second part is more concerned with the perspective
and the limitations and the inheritances of the Demiurge. The structure of
the cosmos is determined as a matter of necessity, and it is not entirely open
to the Demiurge to change or eliminate the structures and their proper-
ties. The properties enable the Demiurge to act in certain desirable ways to
bring order out of disorder and to fashion the universe as closely as possible
according to divine intelligence. The universe is therefore a mixed product
of the combination of reason and necessity, not a chance product of random
natural forces, but highly expressive of rational and intelligible design.

2.1.7.2 The receptacle

In addition to its portrayal of the participation of the physical universe in
its perfect model, the Timaeus is also significant in terms of metaphysical
52 Plato on multiplicity
participation because Plato describes in considerable detail what might
be said to function as the basic participant through the universe: the
Receptacle. It represents a third form of reality, in addition to the eter-
nal model and physical world already outlined in the dialogue. It is ‘the
receptacle, and in a manner the nurse, of all generation’40 in which the
cosmos becomes itself. The universe is not self-subsisting, but requires
this Receptacle to support and sustain it. The Receptacle is ‘invisible and
imperceptible by any sense, and of which the contemplation is granted to
intelligence only’.41 It is ‘the universal nature which receives all bodies’,
receiving all things but never departing from its own nature.42 It is not
matter, nor is it out of which things are made, but rather in which our
physical world comes to exist. The Receptacle has no distinctive qual-
ities of its own before others enter it: ‘she is the natural recipient of
all impressions… the forms which enter into and go out of her are the
likenesses of eternal realities modeled after their patterns in a wonderful
and mysterious manner’.43 Timaeus likens the Receptacle to a quantity
of plastic material, moulded and remoulded into different shapes. The
Forms impress themselves in some mysterious way on the Receptacle,
changing and modifying it in a constantly shifting and complex pattern.
As Receptacle, its purpose is to be the participant of participated perfec-
tions of Forms through the divine intelligence bringing into existence the
physical universe.
To illustrate the concept of the Receptacle, Timaeus draws an anal-
ogy between the father, the mother, and the child, and the eternal Form,
the Receptacle, and Becoming: ‘we may liken the receiving principle to a
mother, and the source or spring to a father, and the intermediate nature
to a child’.44 Strikingly, for the purposes of an account of Platonic partici-
patory metaphysics, Timaeus goes on to suggest that the Receptacle is not
only invisible, characterless, and all-receiving, but that it should be seen as
an ‘invisible and formless being which receives all things and in some mys-
terious way partakes of the intelligible, and is most incomprehensible’.45
This is ambiguous language, but might be understood as a kind of bridge or
link between the realms of being and becoming, or of the former somehow
informing and imprinting upon the latter.
Before the coming into being of the ordered world, there were three ‘dis-
tinct things’: being, the Receptacle (or khora), and becoming. Without a
Receptacle for it to come into being, there was no becoming as such, just
a primordial state of chaos in which the contents of the cosmos were held
in non-relation, continually being separated and scattered in various direc-
tions.46 Yet in the pre-cosmic state, prior to the activity of the Demiurge,
the Receptacle is erratic and disorderly, and its contents—which subse-
quently come to be known and shaped as fire, air, water, and earth—are
merely ‘faint traces of themselves’.47 Thus, the role of the Demiurge was
to ensure that these elements became genuine images (or participations)
of their respective Forms and to ensure that their proportion and volume
 Plato on multiplicity 53
would be suitable to enable the existence of a cosmos that would be pat-
terned on and participating in its ideal model.
The ordered cosmos, as constituted by the interplay of divine intelligence
and necessity, is a result of bringing the three aspects of reality (being,
Receptacle, becoming) into existence by relating, mixing, and entangling
them. Although the Forms might seem to exist beyond the world of becom-
ing, the mechanism for their existence in the context of our cosmos is the
Receptacle. In this sense, the three realities are interdependent, each a
part of the mixed fabric and layered structure of the cosmos—which itself
embodies multiplicity and plurality to a far greater extent than is initially
suggested in the text and is generally admitted in the readings of multiverse
sceptics who seek to conscript Plato as a proponent of a simplistically sin-
gular universe.

2.1.8 Summary
In the Timaeus, Plato presents a physical universe that is the most excellent,
beautiful, and perfect creation possible, as a consequence of its likeness to
and participation in an eternal model, brought about by the work of the
divine workman operating according to intelligence and necessity. In the
dialogue, Forms serve as both models (in which physical things participate)
and goals (by which the physical universe is caused to be good and beau-
tiful). The Receptacle, whose description is enigmatic and elusive, seems
to function as an initially errant and disorderly factor, which nevertheless
proves to be the essential and pervasive participant of the transcendent
Forms.
Ultimately, Timaeus’s narrative, which is itself multifaceted and intri-
cately structured, with its mixture of mixtures, or multiplicity of multiplic-
ities, is entirely consistent with the participatory insight that a changing
world of finitude is best able to reflect the infinite and infinitely creative
God through diversity and complexity. Moreover, the participatory vision
of Platonic cosmology outlined in the Timaeus provides a promisingly fer-
tile ground on which to consider the metaphysical implications of multi-
verse theory, which will be the focus of the rest of this chapter.

2.2 Mary-Jane Rubenstein on multiplicity

In this section, I will critically evaluate the postmodern philosophical
theologian Mary-Jane Rubenstein’s imaginative and important work on
multiverse cosmology. Rubenstein is unique among theological critics of
multiverse theory in her perceptive analysis that, ultimately, this scien-
tific development raises more interesting and fundamental questions than
whether the universe (or multiverse) has been divinely designed. I will
argue that this acute insight requires further elaboration and exploration
and, in some instances, might also be constructively applied to her own
54 Plato on multiplicity
study of Platonic cosmology. As a postmodern theorist, Rubenstein empha-
sises the extent to which Plato might be read as complicating and con-
founding questions of identity and perspective, and celebrates the elusive,
ambiguous, and mystifying aspects of his vision. I will argue that, having
rightly identified the importance of metaphysics, her own reading of Plato’s
Timaeus overlooks the participatory nature of the dialogue’s cosmological
narrative in general, as well as the role of the Receptacle in particular. I
will propose that an explicitly participatory reading of Plato would be more
consistent with her own demand for rigorous metaphysical scrutiny of cos-
mic multiplicity. Finally, I will apply just such a participatory approach to
the American cosmologist Laura Mersini-Houghton’s connected multiverse
theory. I will note that multiverse theorists like Mersini-Houghton cannot
avoid using participatory concepts and thus inescapably find themselves in
this territory, bearing witness to the participatory tradition.

2.2.1 Rubenstein on multiverse cosmology

In the context of theological engagement with scientific multiverse thought,
Mary-Jane Rubenstein’s Worlds Without End: The Many Lives of the
Multiverse is highly significant for two principal reasons. First, her work
is the most comprehensive theological excavation of the historical and con-
ceptual roots of the current debate on multiverses.48 Second, she concludes
with the intriguing (and regrettably brief) insight that multiverse cosmology
implies an ‘ontology that entangles the one and the many… [and] a theology
that asks more interesting and more pressing questions than whether the
universe has been “designed” by an anthropomorphic, extracosmic deity’.49
The idea that theological multiverse engagement should move beyond nar-
row questions of design to consider metaphysical issues is central to the
argument of this book and, more broadly, is likely to be pivotal in terms
of encouraging theologians to adopt a more constructive and historically
informed approach to multiverse thought.
For Rubenstein, multiverse cosmology—even if it could be subject to
empirical testing and falsification—is inescapably metaphysical in two
ways. In a broad sense, she uses the term metaphysics to refer to that which
is beyond the physical—the idea that multiverse theories ‘posit realms
that, however imprinted on or entangled with our own, remain inexorably
beyond it’.50 In a more technical philosophical sense, she regards multiverse
theories as metaphysical because they address the fundamental question
of ‘what is’—the idea that Western metaphysics is an ongoing journey to
ascertain whether reality is one or many. Throughout her detailed histor-
ical survey, she traces the cosmological expressions of this conundrum,
from Plato to Aristotle, Aquinas to Descartes, Giordano Bruno to Kant,
and among modern scientists and philosophers. She discovers that pro-
ponents of cosmic singularity find themselves colliding with plurality (as
she argues in the case of the Timaeus), and vice versa (as with the cosmic
 Plato on multiplicity 55
pluralist Giordano Bruno ultimately admitting that unity is paramount),
such that each episode merely serves to demonstrate that ‘the world is nei-
ther one nor many, but many in its oneness or one in its manyness or many
in a certain light and one in another’.51
According to Rubenstein, this emphasis on cosmic multiplicity has impli-
cations for how we might understand the ‘many worlds’ of multiverse the-
ories. In some way, these worlds must be ontologically connected (and not
wholly ‘other’) if they are ever to be the subject of scientific observation and
experimentation. At the same time, though, they must remain extremely
‘other’, separated by space (as in inflationary or bubble universes), time
(as in cyclical universe models), or branches of reality (as in the many-
worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics). While Rubenstein artfully
and imaginatively traces the persistence of cosmic multiplicity, or the
‘many-oneness’ of reality, throughout the history of western thought on
many worlds or universes, she arrives at a rather ambiguous, elusive, and
equivocal conclusion. She tentatively hints that, from a divine perspective,
‘it may be that… there is only one world. It may be that there are many’.52
This playful, wayward, vague, and mystifying language is a function of
the self-consciously postmodernist tradition in which Rubenstein operates
and which often serves to obscure the thrust of her arguments. As discussed
below, her reading of the description of the Receptacle in the Timaeus is
heavily influenced by Jacques Derrida, and her language and style are sim-
ilarly in keeping with the obscure and enigmatic way in which the French
philosopher expresses his ideas. In another instance of the elusive nature
of her project, she closes with what she refers to as an ‘unscientific post-
scribble’ in which she speculates that whether the universe is one or many,
infinite or finite, will depend on ‘the theoretical and experimental config-
uration that examines it. In other words, the shape, number, and charac-
ter of the cosmos might well depend on the question we ask it’.53 This is
another instance of her ‘perspectival’ reading of the multiverse whereby its
singularity or plurality, or its finitude or infinitude, depends on the theo-
retical configuration under which it is scientifically examined. In this sense,
her approach echoes the recent turn among some postmodern theologians
to ‘polodoxy’, the idea that the decline of religious institutions and author-
ity will lead us to recognise the value of a multiplicity of individual per-
spectives and their interrelations.54 It is sufficient to observe in this instance
that such an unmistakably postmodern approach is not evident in Plato,
for whom participation expresses the relationship between the sensible and
intelligible realms. He is thereby concerned with eternal and unchanging
truth, not the kaleidoscope of perspectives coveted by polodoxists.
Having identified the ‘many-oneness’ inherent in many philosophical
antecedents of multiverse thought, Rubenstein opts not to focus on the
metaphysical implications in any sustained manner. While the scope of her
project is clearly to provide a broad historical perspective to the current
multiverse debate, many of her case studies would be enriched by adopting
56 Plato on multiplicity
a participatory approach that would be more in line with the kind of meta-
physical outlook she advocates at the end of her study. This is particularly
true in terms of her treatment of Plato’s Timaeus, which it would now be
useful to examine.

2.2.2 Rubenstein on the Timaeus

As Rubenstein observes, the cosmological vision of the Timaeus—which
seems to privilege singularity over plurality, order over disorder, and unity
over difference—would be profoundly influential in setting the trajec-
tory of Western cosmology up to the present day. The conventional—and
overly literal and insufficiently metaphysical—reception of this vision also
accounts for why it is often cited in the theology and science dialogue as
an important example of a philosophical system that rejects cosmic plu-
ralism and is therefore of doubtful value or relevance to multiverse dis-
course.55 Against these standard readings, she correctly identifies within
the Timeaus a subtle yet highly consequential insistence on multiplicity:
‘Plato offers a unique and undivided cosmos that is nevertheless composed
of difference, mixtures, and pluralities’.56 In her view, Plato’s cosmological
vision is therefore better understood as an interplay of singularity and plu-
rality, of order and disorder, and of unity and difference. It leaves us not
with a simplistic emphasis on oneness, but with a ‘strange dance between
the one and the many’.57
Initially, Rubenstein associates Plato’s project of ‘mixing the multiple’
with his description of the world’s soul, which (as discussed earlier) appears
to comprise a threefold combination of aspects of the Forms, the physi-
cal world, and a third kind of mixed intermediate between them. These
three components are then mixed into a single unity, which she describes
with characteristic obscurity as ‘a conglomeration of indivisible existence,
divisible existence, indivisible sameness, divisible sameness, indivisible dif-
ference, divisible difference, neither divisible nor indivisible existence, nei-
ther divisible nor indivisible sameness, and neither divisible nor indivisible
difference’.58 The Demiurge then finishes the soul by making subdivisions,
each containing a mixture of the three components. Rubenstein proposes
to classify this bewildering ‘cosmic intermingling’ as an instance of ‘the
multiple’.59 Whenever the Timaeus seems to assert the oneness of the cos-
mos, in the manner attributed to the text in most theological multiverse
readings, it actually ‘collides with something like multiplicity… one cannot
help but agree that the will toward oneness in the Timaeus finds itself mul-
tiply interrupted’.60
Having detailed this mixture of mixtures, Rubenstein proceeds to con-
sider the introduction of the Receptacle as the dialogue turns to its second
precosmic beginning. Although she uses notably participatory language
to describe the Receptacle (referring to its function in terms of reception,
bearing, and tracing),61 her reading owes more to postmodernism and
 Plato on multiplicity 57
deconstruction than a Platonic or Christian Neoplatonist account. In line
with Derrida’s conception of the Receptacle as the space of deconstruction,
eluding all history, theology, and truth,62 Rubenstein describes it in terms
of non-reality and non-being as ‘nothing’ and that which ‘is not’.63 She
goes on to argue that the work of creation is to bring things into existence
by relating and mixing them together. So ‘chaos’ refers to the unrelated
plurality of being, Receptacle, and becoming, while ‘cosmos’ refers to their
‘interrelation—the mixture of mixtures that worlds the world’.64 On this
account, the three distinct realities can only be said to exist in relation to
each other, having been mixed together by necessity: ‘each of them is woven
into the (mixed) fabric of the cosmos, becoming itself only as part of this
melee… [so a world is born] from unrelated differences to their related
mix—from plurality, one might add, to multiplicity’.65
Yet this interpretation does not take into account the participatory nature
of both the Receptacle and Plato’s cosmological vision in general, and thus
does not go far enough in offering the kind of metaphysical attention that
Rubenstein herself identifies as so crucial to theological engagement with
multiverse thought. Contrary to the notion that the Receptacle is ‘nothing’
or to be viewed in terms of negation, it is in fact a participant that affords
a basis for the participated perfections it receives. It is like a mirror or, as
Francis Cornford puts it, ‘the room or place where things are, not intervals
or stretches of vacancy where things are not’.66 It has some kind of per-
manent being, retaining its own nature as the basic permanent participant
in the physical universe: ‘[The Receptacle is the] universal nature which
receives all bodies [but] never departs at all from her own nature and never,
in any way or at any time, assumes a form like that of any of the things
which enter into her; she is the natural recipient of all impressions’.67 It is
all-receiving, the place in which the ‘likenesses’ (or participations) of eter-
nal realities appear. In some mysterious way, it serves to be the participant
of participated perfections (or images) of the Forms, ordered and directed
through divine intelligence.68
Absent from Rubenstein’s account is the recognition that, with the
Receptacle, Plato presents additional detail and depth to his doctrine of
participation. As discussed earlier, the Phaedo examines the threefold
relationship between Forms, participated perfections, and participants.
In the Parmenides and Sophist, he connects participation with exemplary
and efficient causalities to explain how participation can happen without
dividing Forms. In these preceding dialogues, though, he makes only brief
references to participants.69 By contrast, the Timaeus provides considerable
detail about the Receptacle, as the eternal, all-receiving participant of the
cosmos. Of crucial importance, the Receptacle lends itself to a specifically
participatory understanding, rather than Rubenstein’s postmodern account
of different cosmic parts being mixed together, as with the ingredients of
a cake. Platonic participation is a matter of donation and reception, and
not just a matter of mixtures or multiples. This participatory outlook will
58 Plato on multiplicity
now be applied to a new multiverse theory in modern cosmology, Mersini-
Houghton’s connected multiverse.

2.2.3 Laura Mersini-Houghton’s connected multiverse

To illustrate the applicability of Platonic participatory metaphysics to a
contemporary multiverse theory, it would be instructive to consider the
example of cosmologist Laura Mersini-Houghton’s ‘connected’ multiverse,
not least because it is briefly assessed in a different part of Rubenstein’s vol-
ume, but without any reference to her earlier discussion of Plato. In the past
decade, Mersini-Houghton has argued that, in its very early moments, our
universe was ‘connected’ to other universes in a kind of pre-inflationary
cosmic bath containing all possible initial conditions. As our universe grew
unimaginably rapidly, it separated from the other universes, but remains
ontologically entangled with them due to the unitarity principle of quan-
tum mechanics, whereby information about a system is never destroyed.
In fact, the extent of the entanglement is such that this theory can be (and
in some aspects has already been) empirically tested through measurement
of the strength of the cosmic microwave background, the distribution of
matter in the universe, and observation of the entanglement at large scales.
As discussed earlier, the cosmological theory of inflation (the exponen-
tial expansion of the early universe) provides the basis for some major
multiverse theories, including the first two levels of Tegmark’s hierarchy.
Although inflation seems to explain the flatness, homogeneity, and struc-
ture of the universe, Mersini-Houghton begins her investigation by ques-
tioning the origin and nature of inflation itself. In the same way that the
selection principle of multiverse theories is often identified as a founda-
tional problem to be solved,70 she notes that the selection of the initial state
of inflation is ‘a new and more severe mystery’.71 She believes that the kind
of inflation behind the expansion of our universe was oddly improbable
and far less likely than starting with a large universe structured as ours is
today.
To explain the emergence of our own universe within a broader mul-
tiverse, Mersini-Houghton starts with a pre-cosmic and disorderly ‘bath’
of all possible initial conditions on the string landscape. As discussed in
Chapter 1 in the context of Tegmark and others, string theory holds that
every landscape vacua corresponds with a potential universe. To this cha-
otic mix, she applies a kind of principle of natural selection whereby only
a fraction of possible universes out of the ensemble of all possible universes
survive. The so-called ‘survivor’ universes start at high energies and low
entropies and are physically able to develop into physical universes. Other
initial states, starting at low energies, are subjected to gravitational insta-
bilities that crunch them into nothing, resulting in no universe. As such,
this theory provides a ‘superselection rule’ for the birth of the universe
on the basis of the quantum dynamics of gravity and matter on a string
 Plato on multiplicity 59
landscape with all possible initial conditions.72 In her view, it provides a
satisfactory explanation for the inflation of the early universe, or the ‘deep
mystery of the selection of the initial state’.73
Of particular relevance to this section, Mersini-Houghton is mindful of
the profound ontological implications of her theory. If our universe started
in a mixed state in the precosmic bath, or landscape multiverse, it is fun-
damentally entangled or connected with all other universes. According to
the unitarity principle of quantum mechanics, whereby information can
never be lost, our universe can never evolve into a purely independent self-
contained state. The entanglement of our cosmic domain with everything
else in the multiverse leaves ‘imprints’ on the cosmic microwave background
and large-scale structure of the universe in numerous observable ways. In
her memorable expression, this remarkable ontological connectivity ‘leaves
its traces everywhere in the present observable sky’.74 Since all parts of the
connected multiverse are ‘relevant parts of reality for all times’, she argues
that this model is more likely to describe reality than Tegmark’s Level IV
multiverse with its disconnected domains governed by different fundamen-
tal laws of physics. The connected multiverse is more economical since all
its parts share the same background spacetime, in contrast to the wholly
different parts of spacetime proposed in Level IV.
There are suggestive resonances between Mersini-Houghton’s connected
multiverse and the participatory cosmological vision described in Plato’s
Timaeus. In particular, it is difficult not to see the Receptacle as a kind of
philosophical analogue to her precosmic, chaotic bath of initial conditions.
As discussed earlier, the Receptacle is the basic participant of the physical
universe, which existed before the universe, and is the space or ‘nurse’ which
gives birth to all items in the universe. The Forms which pass through the
Receptacle are the ‘likenesses of eternal realities modelled after their pat-
terns’75 in some mysterious manner. It receives ‘every variety of form’ in a
constantly shifting pattern, while itself remaining ‘formless and free from
the impress of any of those shapes’.76 Just as the various initial states in the
bath of the connected multiverse are subject to gravitational instabilities, so
the Receptacle is described as naturally chaotic, transferring chaotic motion
to the traces of the elements contained within: ‘when the world began to
get into order, fire and water and earth and air did indeed show faint traces
of themselves, but were altogether in such a condition as one may expect
to find wherever God is absent’.77 So when Mersini-Houghton describes
the ‘traces’ in the sky left by the connected parts of the universe, there is a
direct and distinct echo of the depiction of ‘traces’ within the Receptacle.
Divine intelligence, in the form of the Demiurge, was responsible for bring-
ing the elements in this chaotic Receptacle into suitable proportion and har-
mony so that the cosmos would exemplify the goodness and beauty of its
eternal model. With Plato’s Receptacle and Mersini-Houghton’s multiverse
bath, we have pre-cosmic depictions of tumultuous landscapes that none-
theless operate according to distinct principles giving rise to ontologically
60 Plato on multiplicity
connected parts of the cosmos, whose physical characteristics bear traces
of their underlying common source.78
It is possible to suggest one further point of contact between the sense
of unity in multiplicity embodied by Plato’s participatory cosmology and
the notion of tracing and entanglement in Mersini-Houghton’s concept of
a connected multiverse. As discussed earlier, the Demiurge in the Timaeus
constructs the cosmos as a perfect image and participation of the Form of
the Living Being, which contains the Forms of all other beings and thus
all parts of the cosmos. As a consequence of our cosmos sharing in the
Form of the Living Being, it is as good and beautiful as possible, both as
a whole and in terms of its constituent parts. Just as the goodness and
beauty of a certain part of the Platonic cosmos is indicative of the broader
whole (and its underlying source), the connectivity of Mersini-Houghton’s
multiverse means that the entanglement of our domain with all other
parts of the cosmos leaves imprints in various observable features of the
physical cosmos.
With these noteworthy similarities between aspects of Platonic participa-
tory thought and the connected multiverse, the clear point to emerge is that
Mersini-Houghton cannot avoid using participatory language and ideas.
Thus, she uses strikingly participatory language to describe the common
origin of her entangled domains, such as ‘sharing’, ‘traces’, and ‘imprints’.
Indeed, her repeated claim that the mark of the entanglement of our uni-
verse with its origin is preserved in the sky strongly echoes Plato’s supposi-
tion that ‘the created heaven might be as like as possible to the perfect and
intelligible animal, by imitation of its eternal nature’.79 This demonstrates
that multiverse theorists such as Mersini-Houghton find themselves ines-
capably operating in the territory of participation. In this sense, they bear
witness to the participatory tradition, even while engaged in the practice
of modern cosmology. In light of this, the discussion of multiverse thought
within the theology and science field would profit from acknowledging
this dynamic, as well as explicitly considering the salience of participation
within this cosmological context.
Without such a participatory framework, Rubenstein construes Mersini-
Houghton’s connected multiverse through the prism of postmodern relativ-
ism. It is, she submits, ‘either one or many, depending on how you look at
it’.80 In characteristically cryptic language, she concludes that the connected
multiverse is ‘not one, but neither is it simply many; rather, it is many by
virtue of its complex unity and united in its irreducible manyness’.81 But
Mersini-Houghton’s theory is not just another instance of what Rubenstein
calls ‘the multiple’, a term she uses to reflect the unexpected persistence of
cosmic multiplicity in the ostensibly singular universe of the Timaeus. For
Plato, as for Mersini-Houghton, cosmology is not just a vague, perspectival
mixing of different parts or perspectives, but lends itself to a participatory
account of sharing, imparting, and reception. While a truly participatory
 Plato on multiplicity 61
reading might agree with Rubenstein’s postmodern diagnosis of inescapa-
ble uncertainty, it understands this as pointing to participation in eternity,
not to the kind of uncertainty tending towards nihilism that postmodern-
ism suggests. The participatory cosmos, as exemplified in Plato’s Timaeus,
is a sacramental, enchanted, and divinely infused order that, in its complex-
ity and multiplicity, points not to postmodern ambiguity and insecurity,
but beyond itself to its perfect and eternal source.

2.3 Max Tegmark on mathematics

If Rubenstein offers the most noteworthy theological and philosophi-
cal account of cosmic multiplicity in Plato within the context of multi-
verse discourse, then it might be said that the multiverse theorist Max
Tegmark performs a similar function from the perspective of physics
and mathematics. In the absence of any fixed consensus on what might
constitute a ‘multiverse’, his hierarchy has emerged as perhaps the most
significant and provocative model that contains different visions of what
it might mean for a cosmic ensemble of many universes to exist. Having
discussed the limitations of Rubenstein’s postmodern philosophical
reading of Plato, in this section I will critically evaluate the idiosyn-
cratic interpretation of Platonism presented within Tegmark’s multi-
verse hierarchy, particularly in terms of its implications for his Level IV
multiverse.82 First, I will show that Tegmark’s reading of Platonism is
mistaken in important ways. He mistakenly believes that his Level IV
multiverse embodies a radical form of Platonism, but there are profound
differences between his theory and the participatory metaphysics found
in the Timaeus. He sees mathematics as the highest form of knowledge,
whereas for Plato it serves a mediating role in bridging the sensible and
intelligible realms. He also controversially invokes Plato to claim that all
mathematical structures exist physically, whereas for Plato the physical
cosmos is distinct from its intelligible source. Since these (among other)
discrepancies serve to further complicate an already contentious model
of extreme mathematical realism, I will propose that a more accurate
and participatory reading of Plato would ironically strengthen the other
levels of Tegmark’s hierarchy.

2.3.1 Tegmark on Platonism

Having outlined the first three levels of his multiverse hierarchy (regions
beyond our cosmic horizon; other post-inflation bubbles; the many worlds
interpretation of quantum mechanics), Tegmark argues that, while conten-
tious, the debate over these models of parallel universes and the underlying
physics is only ‘the tip of an iceberg’.83 He believes that a deeper metaphys-
ical question remains, concerning the relationship between mathematics
62 Plato on multiplicity
and physical reality, which he traces as far back as Plato and Aristotle, as
follows:84

Aristotelian paradigm: The internal perspective is physically real, while

the external perspective and all its mathematical language is merely a
useful approximation.

Platonic paradigm: The external perspective (the mathematical struc-

ture) is physically real, while the internal perspective and all the human
language we use to describe it is merely a useful approximation for
describing our subjective perceptions.

Tegmark strongly prefers the Platonic paradigm in which true reality—albeit

imperfectly understood by humans—is said to correspond with mathematical
structure. He contends that the influence of the so-called Aristotelian para-
digm (which he sees as pervasive in formal education) induces us to dismiss
parallel universes as peculiar, particularly the branching universes of Level III.
From the external perspective, each decision creates a ‘split’ whereby one per-
son continues to read and another does not. From the internal (Aristotelian)
perspective, each person is unaware of this branching and is unable to see
their alter ego occupying different quantum branches in infinite-dimensional
space. This reflects the difference between viewing a physical theory from
the external view of a physicist studying equations and the internal view of
an observer living in the world described by the equations. He believes that
proponents of the external view should find multiverses natural, since on this
view physics is ultimately a mathematics problem, and there exists a Theory
of Everything (TOE) whose axioms would be purely mathematical.
In light of his preference for the Platonist paradigm and his acceptance
of the possibility of a TOE, Tegmark proposes his controversial Level IV
multiverse, often the subject of intense scientific and theological criticism,
and which he regards as ‘a form of radical Platonism’.85 The Level IV mul-
tiverse involves what he calls ‘complete mathematical democracy’, whereby
‘mathematical existence and physical existence are equivalent, so that all
mathematical structures exist physically as well’.86 This implies that math-
ematical structures are ‘out there’ such that they are discovered rather than
created by mathematicians. For Tegmark, a mathematical structure is ‘an
abstract, immutable entity’ that exists outside of space and time.87 All
mathematical structures amount to formal systems consisting of ‘abstract
symbols and rules for manipulating them’.88 In other words, mathematics is
not simply about manipulating numbers, but defining the relations between
abstract objects such as functions, sets, spaces, and operators. It is precisely
because of this distillation of mathematics to abstract relations that com-
puters can prove geometric theorems without physical intuition of space.
As a way to establish a dilemma that provides the basis for his Level IV
multiverse, Tegmark proceeds to consider whether the physical world is
 Plato on multiplicity 63
a mathematical structure. This part of his argument is not entirely clear
or convincing, and has been the subject of considerable criticism among
physicists.89 If the physical world is, as Tegmark believes, a mathematical
structure, then mathematical equations will be able to describe not just
limited aspects of it, but all aspects.90 In this context, some mathematical
structure would be equivalent to our universe, with each physical entity
corresponding to a part of mathematical structure and vice versa. Tegmark
suggests that a mathematical structure has physical existence if ‘any self-
aware substructure (SAS) within it subjectively perceives itself as living in a
physically real world’.91 Since we do not yet have a TOE, the mathematical
structure isomorphic to our universe has not yet been found, assuming
it exists. If, though, our universe really is a mathematical structure, with
each person representing an SAS, this means that the structure has both
physical and mathematical existence. This, in turn, raises questions about
all other possible mathematical structures and whether they are likewise
given physical expression. If not, he argues, there would be a ‘fundamen-
tal, unexplained ontological asymmetry built into the very heart of reality,
splitting mathematical structures into two classes: those with and without
physical existence’.92
To escape this dilemma, Tegmark proposes the Level IV multiverse in
which all mathematical structures exist physically as well. This would
include universes with other mathematical structures and therefore with
different fundamental equations of physics and different constants of
nature. Level IV allegedly comprises all mathematically possible universes,
subsumes all other ensembles, and therefore ‘brings closure to the hierarchy
of multiverses’ in such a way that there cannot be a Level V.93 Unlike Level
I universes, which are spatially connected, or even Level II and III universes
which at least have the same fundamental equations of physics, the Level
IV universes are completely disconnected. He claims that they exist outside
of space and time, a problematic assertion that seems virtually impossible
to clearly conceptualise. The best we can do, Tegmark admits, is ‘to think
of them abstractly, as static sculptures that represent the mathematical
structure of the physical laws that govern them’.94
On a preliminary analysis, Tegmark’s view of mathematics and Platonism
(and its implications for multiverse speculation) might seem plausible. As
discussed earlier in this chapter, Plato associates true reality with the intel-
ligible realm of the Forms, whereas the sensible world is only derivative and
illusory. The Forms of the intelligible realm are eternal, perfect, unchang-
ing, and exist outside of space and time. This concept is often illustrated
with the mathematical example of the triangle, whose ideal version is more
real than approximate earthly versions. For Plato, mathematics inspires us
not just to understand our own world more clearly, but to look beyond
and above it, and to begin to ascend to the intelligible realm.95 Our ability
to abstract numerical quantities from sensible things provides a basis for
Plato’s belief in intelligible Forms underlying physical reality: ‘the qualities
64 Plato on multiplicity
of number appear to lead to the apprehension of truth’.96 Thus, mathemat-
ics serves as an intermediary between the physical realm and intelligible
realm of true being and goodness. In the Republic, Socrates recommends
that the education of philosophers should include a broad range of math-
ematical disciplines, including arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and har-
monic theory.97 Basic arithmetic and calculation, though rudimentary
modes of thought, satisfy our need to bring order and coherence to the
diversity of the physical cosmos, ultimately moving us to contemplate the
unity and perfection of the intelligible realm. This is the Platonic context
in which Tegmark perceives mathematics to reflect the underlying reality
of the world.
On a more fundamental level, though, Tegmark’s invocation of Platonism
to describe the Level IV multiverse is highly idiosyncratic and problematic.98
His understanding of Platonism rests on two significant misapprehensions.
First, mathematics does not occupy quite the same exalted position in
Plato’s epistemological hierarchy as it does in Tegmark’s vision in which
mathematical knowledge is the most fundamental kind of knowledge or
with his expectation that we will eventually find a TOE, from which all
other knowledge can be derived. In the classification of knowledge out-
lined in the Republic, mathematical knowledge relates to the Forms, since
mathematical objects encourage us to contemplate unchanging and stable
objects and thereby prepare us for an encounter with the eternal realm.
But mathematicians understand that the objects with which they work are
merely ‘shadows and images’,99 when what they really seek is the kind of
true reality only accessible by reason (noesis), a purer, more perfect knowl-
edge of the Forms. By engaging in the dialectical process of reasoning, we
can gain direct insight of the Forms, without relying on the subordinate
field of mathematics (or any other arts and sciences) ‘whose assumptions
are arbitrary starting points’.100 The primacy of mathematics in Tegmark’s
scheme is therefore not representative of the epistemology of Plato, for
whom mathematics was less valuable and indeed less scientific than reason-
ing, which provides direct knowledge of the Forms.
Second, Tegmark’s description of the Forms as existing physically seems
to contradict the basic premise of Platonic metaphysics. In the Level IV mul-
tiverse, every mathematical structure corresponds to a parallel universe,
opening up the full realm of possibility. Tegmark sees this hypothesis as a
form of radical Platonism because it asserts that ‘the mathematical struc-
tures in Plato’s realm of ideas… exist “out there” in a physical sense’.101 Yet,
as discussed earlier, the Forms exist in an intelligible, eternal realm, which
is perfectly real precisely because it is not physical. It is difficult to see how
Tegmark’s conferral of physical existence upon the Forms might be recon-
ciled with any conventional reading of the Forms as depicted throughout
Plato’s dialogues. To complicate matters still further, Tegmark adds that
the Level IV universes do not occupy the same space, but somehow exist
outside of space and time, and most of them are not even observed. In some
 Plato on multiplicity 65
inexplicable way, then, it seems that all possible universes enjoy physical
existence within a kind of Platonic realm beyond space and time. As such,
Tegmark fails to provide the kind of participatory account of the relation-
ship between the sensible and intelligible realms that is of such paramount
importance to Plato’s metaphysics.

2.3.2 Participation in the Timaeus

Ironically, Tegmark’s desire to identify his cosmological theories with a
Platonic account of the relationship between mathematics and physical
reality has produced an unconventional variant of Platonism. For that rea-
son, it would be worthwhile to reconsider his work in light of the Timaeus,
which articulates a participatory cosmological vision in which mathematics
serves to reconcile the sensible and intelligible realms. In Tegmark’s Level
IV model, mathematical structures exist physically, while mathematics rep-
resents the highest form of knowledge. In the Timaeus, by contrast, the
mathematical infrastructure of the cosmos is separate from the physical
universe, while mathematics—through cosmological patterns of participa-
tion—plays a mediating role that can help focus our attention beyond the
physical. These distinctions will be consequential for Tegmark’s own mul-
tiverse hierarchy and its mathematical foundation.
As detailed earlier in this chapter, Plato’s Timaeus depicts a beautiful
and orderly universe that is the handiwork of divine rationality and intel-
ligence. Strikingly, the dialogue’s cosmology is infused with mathemati-
cal language, detailing the ratios, proportions, and harmonies according
to which the universe is ordered. The Demiurge, imitating an eternal and
unchanging model, imposes mathematical order on a preexistent chaos to
produce the ordered cosmos, which is a ‘created copy’ of its original.102
By contrast to Tegmark’s curious conflation of mathematical and physical
structure, in the Timaeus the mathematical infrastructure of the cosmos
has its own being and intelligibility, distinct from the physical universe. In
Plato’s creation account, the universe is patterned on and participates in
eternal mathematical patterns of number, geometry, and astronomy. Not
only do these mathematical patterns provide the model for the world’s gen-
eration, but imitation of them draws us closer to eternity.
Of further relevance to the role of mathematics, the creative activity of
the Demiurge is inherently mathematical. With reference to the Forms, the
Demiurge fashions the four elements (earth, water, fire, air) from two types
of right-angled triangles (isosceles and scalene, or unequal-sided).103 The
precise size and composition of each of the subsequent geometrical solids
is determined by divine intelligence working according to mathematical
necessity: ‘And the ratios of their numbers, motions, and other properties,
everywhere God, as far as necessity allowed or gave consent, has exactly
perfected and harmonized in due proportion’.104 The Demiurge constructs
the world’s body out of the four elements, ‘harmonized by proportion’.105
66 Plato on multiplicity
The world’s soul is created out of a harmoniously proportionate and com-
plex mixture of the Forms, the physical world, and a third and intermediate
kind of being.106 This mixture is then divided up into composites accord-
ing to astonishingly precise and complex ratios, which also form the basis
for the motions of the soul’s outer and inner circles, the latter of which
encompasses the carefully measured orbits of the sun, the moon, and the
other planets.107 The soul is brought into union with the world, ‘interfused
everywhere from the center to the circumference of heaven’, bringing about
a ‘divine beginning of never-ceasing and rational life enduring throughout
all time’.108
Mathematics does not simply provide the principles according to which
the physical universe is generated, but also mediates between the sensible
and intelligible realms through cosmological patterns of participation.109
The dialogue’s famous participatory observation that time is a ‘moving
image of eternity’110 is itself expressed in mathematical terms. The eternal
living being, on which our cosmos is based, rests in ‘unity’, while time is
also based on eternity, but moves ‘according to number’.111 Time imitates
and participates in eternity and revolves according to numerical law.112 In
this sense, mathematics represents a bridge between time and eternity, or the
sensible and intelligible realms. Similarly, animals in the natural world ‘par-
ticipate in number’ by learning arithmetic from the movements of the sun
and the earth associated with light and darkness, as well as changing sea-
sons.113 Just as animals participate in eternity through number, so humans
have been afforded sight through which to observe the astronomical pat-
terns that provide intimations of the world’s intelligible source: ‘But now the
sight of day and night, and the months and the revolutions of the years have
created number and have given us a conception of time, and the power of
inquiring about the nature of the universe’.114 Musical harmony and rhythm
may also encourage us to identify and imitate the numerical structure of the
cosmos and thereby help to correct any discord within our souls.115
This metaphysical and participatory reading of the Timaeus provides
a useful corrective to Tegmark’s misappropriation of Platonism. Unlike
Tegmark’s vision in which mathematics is epistemologically paramount,
Plato accords mathematics with high metaphysical and even moral sta-
tus. Numerical law provides the model for the creation of a cosmos that
is maximally beautiful and good. At the same time, numerical law—as an
image and hence participation of the eternal model of the cosmos—medi-
ates between the sensible and intelligible realms. The differences between
Tegmark’s Platonism and the Platonic participatory metaphysics described
in this chapter are outlined in Table 2.1.

2.3.3 Implications for Tegmark’s multiverse hierarchy

Based on the differences outlined above, Tegmark’s (supposedly Platonic)
Level IV multiverse model appears to be less compatible with Platonic
 Plato on multiplicity 67
Table 2.1 Tegmark’s Level IV Platonism and Plato’s participatory metaphysics

Tegmark’s Level IV Platonism Participatory metaphysics in the Timaeus

Mathematics is the highest form of Mathematics plays an important

knowledge; all other knowledge will mediating role, but is subordinate to
prove to be subordinate to a reason through which intelligible realm
mathematical TOE is apprehended
Mathematical existence and physical Mathematics provides the model for the
existence are equivalent; all physical cosmos, but this cosmos is
mathematical structures exist distinct from its non-physical,
physically intelligible source
Level IV multiverse exists outside of Physical cosmos distinct from intelligible
space and time realm, which exists outside of space and
time
Level IV universes are completely The physical cosmos is manifold, but its
disconnected many parts share in a single intelligible
source
Level IV universes have different Mathematical structure is consistent
fundamental equations of physics across cosmos—also implied by basic
participant of the Receptacle and
activity of the Demiurge

participatory metaphysics than his Level I, II, and III models. After all,
the three preceding models in his multiverse hierarchy allow for progres-
sively more cosmic diversity, but they all share the same fundamental equa-
tions of physics, they are not completely disconnected, and they are not
wholly beyond space and time. In each case, the participatory metaphysics
of the Timaeus could be more easily applied such that the physical cosmos
is understood to be patterned on an eternal (and consistent, underlying)
mathematical model and that mathematics itself might play a mediating
role in focusing our attention beyond different cosmic realms to appre-
hension of the eternal realm. In particular, the participatory role of the
Receptacle—through which all Forms pass as participated perfections—
and the participatory role of the Demiurge—who arranges and proportions
all things to closely resemble the goodness of the Forms—both strongly
imply a cosmos grounded in a common mathematical structure and frame-
work, rather than disconnected realms with different fundamental mathe-
matical laws.
In this way, Tegmark’s understanding of Platonism overlooks the par-
ticipatory metaphysical vision that is so central to Plato’s own cosmolog-
ical narrative in the Timaeus. As a consequence, Tegmark misapprehends
Plato’s view of the role and nature of mathematics—a particularly ironic
outcome in light of his insistence that Level IV represents a form of
‘radical Platonism’ and that a more ‘Platonic’ outlook on reality accords
with the spirit of multiverse theory. The development of the kind of alter-
native account outlined here, in which the participatory character of Plato’s
thought is brought into clearer focus, might provide a more promising
68 Plato on multiplicity
framework for engagement than is evident in other theological critiques.
Instead of focusing on the logical conundrums inherent in the Level IV
model as representative of all multiverse theories, which can then be eas-
ily dismissed,116 it might be more constructive to acknowledge the useful
aspects of Tegmark’s Platonism, while also identifying its drawbacks, and
then to apply a properly metaphysical account of Platonism to the other,
less scientifically contentious, levels of his hierarchy.
For example, we might concur with his insight that there is a deeper math-
ematical structure and reality underlying our physical universe. However,
we might note that this does not suggest equivalence between mathemati-
cal and physical reality that somehow takes shape in disconnected realms
beyond space and time. We might then note that the participatory vision
in the Timaeus suggests a diverse yet interconnected cosmos that operates
according to consistent mathematical principles and which is more compat-
ible with Level I, II, or III multiverse models. Ultimately, Tegmark’s own
Platonism complicates and undermines his most controversial multiverse
model, while a participatory reading of Platonism can enrich the other lev-
els of his hierarchy and divert attention from unproductive disputes over
the more provocative elements of Level IV.

2.4 Verity Harte on mereology

Having considered contemporary theological and scientific accounts of the
relevance of Plato’s cosmology to multiverse theory, I will now turn to a
major recent philosophical contribution to the understanding of Plato’s
metaphysics of structure, and assess how it might provide useful resources
for illuminating some of the conceptual issues arising in multiverse dis-
course. Verity Harte, a British philosopher and metaphysician currently
based at Yale, has produced the first systematic examination of the issue of
composition in Platonic metaphysics. In this section, I will propose a par-
ticipatory reading of her account of Plato’s metaphysics of structure and I
will suggest that such a reading would provide fruitful points of contact for
multiverse theories. To that end, I will initially provide a brief overview of
Harte’s project. I will then argue that her project is implicitly participatory
in its concepts and language, with specific reference to her reading of the
Timaeus. Finally, I will argue that this participatory reception of Harte’s
rich discussion of composition in Plato is of particular value to questions
about part-whole relations that often arise within the context of inflation-
ary multiverse theories.

2.4.1 Harte on Plato’s metaphysics of structure

Harte’s Plato on Parts and Wholes is an authoritative and influential exam-
ination of Plato’s treatment of the relation between a whole and its parts.117
Since ‘mereology’ refers to any theory of parthood or composition, her
 Plato on multiplicity 69
project might be thought of as mereological in nature.118 Within mereology,
questions about part-whole relations (with important metaphysical impli-
cations) can rapidly proliferate: should we focus on the relation between
one part and the whole, or on the relation between many parts and the
whole? Is a whole the sum of its parts, or somehow greater than the sum?
How might it be possible for abstract objects to have parts? As she notes,
though, Plato does not set out to develop a formal mereological system
with axioms to govern part-whole relations: ‘Plato is doing metaphysics,
not logic’.119
Nevertheless, Harte’s argument is that central to Plato’s discussions of
composition is the ‘mystery’ of the ‘one-many dimension’—that is, how
one thing (a whole) can be made up of many things (its parts).120 To identify
one thing (a whole) with many things (its parts) seems to threaten the ‘fun-
damental distinction’ between the two, since ‘something(s) is/are both one
thing—singularly quantified—and many things—plurally quantified’.121 If
a whole of parts is both one and many, it might be said to represent both
a (complex) individual and a collection. If, on the other hand, composition
amounts to a many-one relation, it seems important to maintain that the
whole is an individual (hence the emphasis on the one), rather than a collec-
tion. For Harte, this latter concern is central to Plato’s metaphysics of struc-
ture, which she believes offers an account of wholes as complex individuals.
While Harte considers composition and structure in dialogues such as
the Parmenides and Sophist, for the purposes of this section it will be suf-
ficient to focus on her reading of the Timaeus. She accurately observes
that the dialogue offers ‘almost an embarrassment of riches’ for a study of
the composition of complex wholes, with its ‘layering of structures within
structures’.122 On her reading, the Timaean cosmos is a ‘whole of wholes,
a structure of structures’.123 This is because the first part of Plato’s creation
account is concerned with the structure of the cosmos as a whole, while the
second part is concerned with the structure of its parts (the elements). In
this sense, the second creation story (concerned with parts) is itself part of
the larger whole of the first creation story (itself concerned with the whole).
The layering of the cosmos is thus reflected in the layering of the account of
its creation: structure is synonymous with substance.
In the first creation story, Timaeus describes the body of the cosmos as a
structure, which consists of four elements standing in proportionate rela-
tion to each other, in a manner that Harte refers to as ‘structure-laden’.124
This means that the elements can only be understood in the context of the
structure they compose: parts owing their meaning to the whole to which
they belong. In the second creation story, the construction of the elements
themselves is described in terms of likeness to geometrical structures. Given
this emphasis on geometrical proportion within the body of the cosmos
and within the components of the body of the cosmos, Harte suggests that
there is a ‘parallel’ between the macro- and micro-structure of the body of
the cosmos, such that geometrical structure is found within the body of
70 Plato on multiplicity
the cosmos and within the four elements of which it is composed.125 In this
way, in Harte’s memorable expression, ‘structure may be said to go all the
way down’.126
For Harte, then, the Timaean cosmos is mathematical in nature and
the dialogue tells the story of the ‘mathematicization of structure’.127 This
structure, patterned on an intelligible source and shaped by the activity of
divine intelligence, is inherently good—or, as she puts it, ‘normative’.128
Mathematical concepts such as harmony, proportion, and measure are not
only bywords for structure, but also normative terms of value expressing
the inherent goodness and coherence of the cosmos. Thus, Plato’s meta-
physics of structure is based on the ‘irreducibility, intelligibility, and nor-
mativity of structure’.129 To illustrate this point, Harte refers to the role of
musical harmony in the Timaeus, which ends with the injunction to bring
the revolutions of the human soul into line with the harmonious revolutions
of the world soul, whose parts were ordered and proportioned according to
intervals on the musical scale. According to Plato, to learn ‘the harmonies
and revolutions of the universe’ is to attain truth and the ‘best life which
the gods have set before mankind’.130 As such, Platonic structure is not
just a metaphysical concern, but laden with ethical and epistemological
dimensions.
In light of her rigorous analysis of composition in Plato’s works, and in
the Timaeus in particular, Harte believes that the emergent picture is of
wholes as ‘contentful structures’.131 Wholes are not collections of things
with ‘structure’ that can be detached and understood separately from
their parts. Instead, structure is fundamental to the composition of the
whole such that wholes are instances of structures: ‘In Plato’s conception
of wholes, structure is no less essential to the parts of such a whole than
to the whole itself. The parts of such a whole are structure-laden; that is,
the identity of the parts is determined only in the context of the whole
they compose’.132 This is a top-down approach to composition, in which
parts can be understood as such only in reference to the whole: ‘Wholes
come first; and parts—and the things that are parts—only thereafter’.133
The strong claim that the identity of parts is tied to the whole of which they
are part implies ‘some sort of metaphysical dependence of the parts on the
whole’.134 This dependence raises a number of problematic questions (will
parts exist only for so long as the whole exists?), and Harte acknowledges
that the implications require further clarification.

2.4.2 Harte and participatory metaphysics

Although Harte briefly refers to participation in the context of her dis-
cussion of the Parmenides, her specific focus is on mereological theories
of composition and parthood understood in isolation from participation.
In particular, she has a good sense of what might be thought of as ‘hori-
zontal’ participation (discussed below), but not necessarily of vertical or
 Plato on multiplicity 71
transcendental participation. Yet her deeply metaphysical interpretation of
Platonic part-whole relations can be brought into line with the participa-
tory approach detailed in general terms in Chapter 1 and in the specific
context of the discussion of the Timaeus earlier in this chapter.
In general terms, participation is inherently concerned with inter-relation.
To claim that things participate in a common intelligible (or divine) source
is to imply that they come forth from that source in a state of relation.135
Things are related to their common origin, but their identity also entails a
second kind of relation in terms of their ordering among themselves. To use
an example of relevance to the Timaeus, this ordering might be akin to the
proportionate harmonies of a piece of music, with each part of the arrange-
ment standing in relation to the other parts, adding up to a melodic whole,
outside of which the parts would lose their identity. Like Harte’s notion
that parts can only be understood as part of the ‘contentful structure’ of the
whole, the participatory vision holds that each part of creation participates
in and stands in relation to its origin, owes its identity and meaning to its
origin, and stands in proportion and relation to all other parts of creation.
If parts are ‘structure-laden’ for Harte, then all parts in the participatory
scheme are infused with a broader meaning and intelligibility.
The primacy of relation of parts in Harte’s theory can also be related to
what might be called the ‘intra-finite’ (or horizontal) aspect of participa-
tion, or the participation of things in one another. While the main focus
of this book is the participation of finite things in an infinite source, there
is a related and secondary sense in which finite things share participatory
relations among themselves. For example, each creature comes into being
and receives its being from other creatures, thereby sharing bonds of par-
ticipation as parts of a participatory structure that originates in God. Each
creature is therefore in some sense metaphysically dependent on other crea-
tures, as well as on the whole participatory structure that can be traced
back to its transcendent source. This sense of intra-finite participation is
given expression in Harte’s insistence that parts stand in relation to each
other, owe their identity to their status as parts, and have some sort of met-
aphysical dependence on each other, as well as the whole of which they are
part.136 Harte is keenly attentive to this aspect of participation, but has less
to say about vertical or transcendental participation (that is, the participa-
tion of sensible things in the intelligible realm), so in the following section I
will put her work to use within this more Platonic context.
In the specific context of her reading of the Timaeus, Harte’s theory
and language are distinctly participatory. Whereas Rubenstein identifies
the many-layered mixing of the dialogue as an instance of ‘the multiple’,
Harte goes one step further by providing the kind of sustained metaphys-
ical analysis that Rubenstein herself concludes is necessary in the context
of engagement with multiverse thought (though does not provide herself,
as discussed earlier). Harte’s view of the Timaean cosmos as a structure
of structures, with the different parts of the cosmos standing in precise
72 Plato on multiplicity
relation to each other and the overall whole as ‘structure-laden’, can be
brought into contact a participatory reading. Just as Harte is not content
to speak of parts only in themselves, so Plato explains how the Demiurge
constructs the physical universe as a participation of the Form of the Living
Being, which includes all other Forms as its parts. Just as Harte argues
that structure is good and intelligible, so the participation of the cosmos
in its eternal source under the direction of divine intelligence and necessity
ensures that it is good and beautiful, both as a whole and in terms of each
of its parts.
In addition, Harte’s account of the Receptacle is distinctly participatory.
While admitting that the nature of the Receptacle is unclear and open to
interpretation, she maintains that the imagery used by Plato indicates it is
that in which ‘imitations of forms’ transpire.137 She goes on to argue that
the Demiurge imposes geometrical configurations upon the Receptacle,
providing the means for the instantiation of the forms of the elements. This
geometric construction allows for the Receptacle’s eventual ‘reception’
of forms.138 Whether Harte’s geometric account of the relation between
Forms and the Receptacle is accurate, it is striking that her depiction of the
Receptacle as that upon which contentful structure is imposed invariably
employs participatory terms such as imitation, reception, and traces. For
Harte, it has an inextricably participatory role as the medium in which
participated perfections of Forms are proportioned and arranged to form a
good and beautiful cosmos that reflects its eternal model.

2.4.3 Inflationary multiverse theory

Having considered Harte’s reading of Plato’s metaphysics of structure, and
highlighted aspects of its implicit participatory character, it would now be
instructive to demonstrate the relevance of this mereological-participatory
account to a contemporary multiverse theory. Given Harte’s focus on part-
whole relations, Tegmark’s Level II post-inflationary bubble multiverse,
with its different parts originating from a common source, seems apposite.
As detailed in Chapter 1, Level II of Tegmark’s hierarchy refers to
an infinite set of distinct Level I multiverses, or bubbles. According to
Tegmark, the model is predicted by most popular models of inflation, the
rapid expansion of the universe. In this model, space generally stretches
rapidly and forever, but some regions stop stretching and form distinct bub-
bles. Infinitely many of these bubbles may be created, each becoming an
infinite embryonic Level I multiverse, with different laws of physics, par-
ticles, and dimensionality brought about by quantum fluctuations during
inflation: ‘So the Level II multiverse is likely to be more diverse than the
Level I multiverse, containing domains where not only the initial conditions
differ, but also the physical constants’.139 The Level II multiverse seems to
address the question of fine-tuning, since the model provides for the pos-
sibility of other universes in which the physical constants are inconsistent
 Plato on multiplicity 73
with human life. As such, the fact of our presence in a universe conducive
to life becomes merely coincidental, following from the selection effect that
we must find ourselves living in a part of the cosmos that is habitable. In
the Level II model, there just happen to be (possibly infinitely) many other
parts (or bubble universes), all with their own finely-tuned parameters that
if changed modestly would result in qualitatively different universes.
According to Andrei Linde’s chaotic inflationary multiverse theory
(which may also be considered a version of a Level II multiverse), the infla-
tionary phase of the universe’s expansion lasts forever throughout most
of the universe. Since different parts of the universe expand exponentially
rapidly, most of its parts are inflating, potentially producing infinitely many
parts or regions beyond our cosmic horizon: ‘Inflation of such domains
creates huge homogeneous islands out of the initial chaos, each one being
much greater than the size of the observable part of the Universe’.140 The
process of the division of the universe into different parts may also be
explained by quantum fluctuations, which cause energy and matter density
to differ in different parts of space, producing changes in the rate of infla-
tionary expansion. Cosmic regions with higher rates of inflation lead to the
production of new inflationary domains which expand even faster, as infla-
tion continues forever: ‘This means that the Universe becomes divided into
exponentially large parts with different dimensionality’.141 Linde believes
that the process of eternal inflation almost necessarily implies the existence
of a multiverse, comprising infinitely many bubbles whose properties vary,
though he admits that to understand this idea, we need to ‘compare infini-
ties, which may lead to ambiguities’.142
As such, the Level II multiverse, as described by Tegmark and Linde,
provides fertile ground for consideration of part-whole relations and par-
ticipation.143 The different parts of the multiverse may have vastly different
properties, but they share a common origin and fundamental connection,
even if ultimately inaccessible to us. To adopt Harte’s compositional lan-
guage, we might think of the different parts of this post-inflationary land-
scape as ‘structure-laden’, with the parts being what they are only within
the context of the cosmic whole they comprise and out of which they orig-
inated. By her own admission, her claim that parts exist only for so long
as the whole exists is contentious as applied to perishable objects,144 but
perhaps within the context of an eternal inflationary multiverse there need
not be such a problem of tying the identity of the different parts to the
eternal whole of which they are part. The implied existence of infinitely
many other universes with different physical constants indicates that our
own universe, even with its statistically improbable degree of fine tuning,
gets its character (or its form, what it adds up to) only in the context of the
cosmic whole of which it is (or could be) part. There is a kind of metaphys-
ical dependence of our own part of the multiverse on the whole multiverse,
since without the process of eternal inflation giving rise to all possibilities
there would be no such multiverse at all.
74 Plato on multiplicity
We might also consider how a participatory view of Harte’s theory of
composition would bear upon the Level II multiverse. The division of the
multiverse into an infinite number of exponentially large parts with differ-
ent values is a vivid instance of cosmic multiplicity arising from a common
source, or at least a single cosmic process or canvas. This might call to
mind the participatory notion of inter-relation introduced in the previous
section and on which Harte is acutely observational. However, where a
Platonic (or Christian) participatory metaphysics could deepen her account,
we might introduce the issue of participation in a transcendent source by
suggesting that different parts of creation share a common origin in par-
ticipation in God (or some eternal source). This would mean that different
inflationary bubbles would emerge (or, to use more participatory language,
come forth) already related, drawing their being and identity from their
common intelligible origin. They would also, in a more horizontal sense,
owe their identity and share in degrees of relation to each other, as Harte
suggests. In this way, it is possible to apply a deeper, more ‘vertical’ (or
transcendent) Platonic participatory approach to her emphasis on ‘horizon-
tal’ or inter-relations between parts.
It is perhaps surprising that Harte elects not to pursue a more vertical
sense of participation, especially in light of her attribution to Plato’s meta-
physics of what she calls a ‘holist’ conception.145 This means that, instead
of working from the bottom up, he proceeds from the top down; that is,
the identity of a part of the cosmos is defined only within the context of the
whole of which it is part. In his metaphysics, according to Harte, wholes
come first, and parts only thereafter. It is clearly possible to situate this
insight within his deeper metaphysical framework and to observe that the
‘whole’ of the cosmos indeed comes first and originates from an intelligible
source before the constituent parts are evident within.
Ultimately, the combination of Harte’s discussion of composition with
a deeper conceptual Platonic framework of vertical participation suggests
new ways of thinking and raises key questions for multiverse theorists. For
example, cosmologists are often inclined to examine the different constitu-
ent parts of the universe—or potential different realms of the multiverse—
with reference to internal features such as physical constants. This is an
understandable inclination given that it is more problematic to consider the
‘whole’ of the universe (or multiverse) as we cannot experience it or meas-
ure it from the outside, a dilemma that sometimes causes cosmology as a
scientific area of study to be viewed sceptically. Yet, in light of the foregoing
discussion, it might be worthwhile for multiverse theorists to pay special
attention to any multiverse model as a whole, rather than its constituent
parts. This suggests a new ontological approach not just for philosophers,
but for scientists who study multiverses and the associated issue of whole-
part relations. As Harte argues, Plato’s metaphysics places structure as a
fundamental item, resisting the notion that parts can be easily identified
outside of the context of such structures.
 Plato on multiplicity 75
Such a focus on the structure or the ‘whole’ of the cosmos may seem
alien to place at the heart of a philosophical or indeed scientific system, but
Plato’s metaphysics of composition (outlined by Harte) along with his par-
ticipatory metaphysics suggest that this is a valuable approach. As applied
to the Level II multiverse, it would not start with the post-inflationary
bubbles or any internal characteristics of the bubbles. Rather, a Platonic
participatory approach might recognise that a multiverse is more akin to
‘contentful structures whose parts exist and may be identified only in the
context of (some) whole of which they are (or could be) part’.146 To com-
plete the participatory picture, we might consider that, just as all parts of
the Timaean cosmos stand in proportionate harmony to each other, meas-
ured to reflect and participate in the goodness of their eternal model, so we
might think of the different Level II bubbles as coming forth from the same
source and owing a kind of metaphysical dependence on the cosmic whole
of which they are part.

2.5 Summary
In this chapter, I explored the issue of cosmic multiplicity, which is so cen-
tral both to Plato’s creation account in the Timaeus and to modern multi-
verse models, which describe the formation and development of (perhaps
infinitely) many different parts of an unimaginably vast cosmic ensemble.
The central point of this chapter is that the multiplicity of the universe (or
multiverse) is not just a concern for scientific or philosophical accounts of
mixture and composition, but is inherent in Plato’s participatory vision of
the manifold parts of the cosmos participating in their perfect and eternal
source. To demonstrate this, I engaged with a diverse range of contempo-
rary thinkers, encompassing new theological, scientific, and philosophical
thought, including in relation to Plato and his connection to the multi-
verse hypothesis (or, in Harte’s case, part-whole relations). In each case,
I illustrated that a closer attention to the participatory aspect of Platonic
metaphysics would not only clarify and strengthen the discussions of each
thinker on their own terms, but also raise new ways of thinking about spe-
cific multiverse theories or ideas.
Initially, in response to Rubenstein’s compelling genealogy of multi-
verse thought, I argued that her postmodern account of Plato’s cosmology
neglected to account for its critical participatory dimension. I demonstrated
that, for Plato, cosmic multiplicity is not a matter of an ambiguous and
loosely articulated postmodern mixing of different perspectives.147 Rather,
the multiplicity in the Platonic cosmos lends itself to a participatory under-
standing of the many parts of creation sharing in a common and intelli-
gible source. I applied this participatory view to the connected multiverse
of Mersini-Houghton, whose own use of participatory language and con-
cepts suggests that scientists engaged in this work are inescapably operating
within the participatory tradition.
76 Plato on multiplicity
Next, I presented a participatory critique of Tegmark’s highly dubious
version of Platonism and how he thinks it relates to his Level IV multiverse.
On Tegmark’s reading, mathematics is the highest form of knowledge,
whereas it is more properly seen in the Timeaus as serving an important
mediating role in bridging the sensible and intelligible realms. In light of his
failure to attend closely to Platonic participatory metaphysics, I concluded
that Tegmark’s account of Platonism complicates his Level IV model and
would in fact be more tenable in the context of the other, less controversial,
levels in his multiverse hierarchy.
Finally, I assessed Harte’s mereological account of composition in Plato.
Although she also employs implicitly participatory language, and has a
useful sense of what might be thought of as ‘horizontal’ participation, I
proposed that a stronger form of ‘vertical’ participation in a transcendent
source, informed by Plato’s account of the many parts of the cosmos par-
ticipating in an eternal model, would be helpful in terms of considering
Level II post-inflationary bubbles. In this way, I drew on an underdevel-
oped strand of participatory thinking in her work to highlight new ways in
which theologians and scientists might consider parts and wholes within a
multiverse context.
As an integral aspect of multiverse thought, cosmic multiplicity contin-
ues to provoke scientific speculation about immense cosmic realms with
many parts and features, which is why it provided a logical starting point
for the theological exploration in this book. But multiplicity is only one
part of the story of multiverse theory. The constituent parts of a multiverse
may be (perhaps infinitely) many in number, but they are also imagined by
cosmologists to be many in variety, with a vast diversity of different condi-
tions and characteristics. With this in mind, it would now be instructive to
turn from consideration of cosmic multiplicity to cosmic diversity, which
will be the core theme of the following chapter. Having demonstrated that
the notion of cosmic multiplicity is intelligible and integral within the con-
text of a participatory cosmos, the next step of this theological exploration
will be to investigate the extent to which metaphysical participation might
offer a valuable conceptual framework for making sense of the extraordi-
nary cosmic diversity evident in scientific multiverse models.

Notes
1 The common Greek word for participation is methexis, whose prefix (met-,
meaning ‘with’) reinforces the idea of a constitutive relationship of the two
realms of sensible and intelligible being. Due to the enormous influence of
the Timaeus, to be discussed in the next section, the term has been taken as
expressing this connection. Plato, though, uses a wide range of words when
describing participation or participatory themes, including mimesis and
mixis, or imitation and mixture, respectively (as discussed in the Republic).
In each case, the language is deeply suggestive of participatory notions of
copying, sharing or likeness, or the conferring of being or some perfection.
 Plato on multiplicity 77
2 The dialogue was widely read and commented upon by a number of ancient
philosophers. For a helpful contemporary assessment of such ancient read-
ings, see Sylvain Delcomminette, Peter d’Hoine and Marc-Antonie Gavray
(eds.), Ancient Readings of Plato’s Phaedo (Leiden, Netherlands: Brill, 2015).
3 Phaedo, 99b.
4 Phaedo, 99d.
5 Phaedo, 100b.
6 Phaedo, 100c.
7 Phaedo, 100d.
8 Phaedo, 100d.
9 Phaedo, 102b–d.
10 Phaedo, 102b.
11 While scholarship on the proper interpretation of Platonic dialogues is often
divided, Parmenides is particularly enigmatic and thus subject to a vast and
conflicting literature on the best way to understand Parmenides’ criticisms
of the theory of participation. See footnote 15 for an influential example of
interpretative engagement.
12 Parmenides, 131a.
13 Parmenides, 132d. As will be discussed later, the idea that Forms are patterns
that serve as models for their participants is also presented in the Timaeus.
14 132a–b.
15 See, for example, Gregory Vlastos’ important article in which he celebrates
(and logically scrutinises) Plato’s willingness to construct an argument
that, if successful, would be damaging to the foundations of his own life’s
work. Gregory Vlastos, ‘The Third Man Argument in the Parmenides’, in
Philosophical Review 63 (1954), pp. 319–49.
16 Sophist, 246a.
17 Sophist, 249a.
18 Sophist, 249d.
19 Sophist, 265c.
20 Sophist, 265c.
21 Sophist, 266c.
22 Philebus, 15b.
23 Philebus, 16c–d.
24 Philebus, 24d.
25 Philebus, 26d.
26 Symposium, 206a. See also Catherine Osborne’s clarifying account of the
central role of love in Plato (and subsequent Christian thought), in which
love is understood not in transactional terms of motive, but in terms of an
ontological vision in which the beloved is transfigured by love. Catherine
Osborne, Eros Unveiled: Plato and the God of Love (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1994).
27 Symposium, 211c.
28 In the Pheadrus, Socrates compares the soul to a winged chariot, pulled by
two horses. Stirred by love, it is capable of soaring to the heavens and partic-
ipating in the divine, which is the true beauty by which the wings of the soul
are nourished and grow. See 246a, 249e.
29 Sherman, ‘A genealogy of participation’, p. 85.
30 A. E. Taylor’s overview of the cosmological and scientific aspects of the
Timaeus is highly valuable in terms of providing an extended survey of
the historical and philosophical context of the dialogue. See A. E. Taylor,
Plato: The Man and His Work (Mineola, NY: Dover Publications, 2001),
pp. 436–62.
78 Plato on multiplicity
31 Timaeus, 31a.
32 Carl Sean O’Brien has recently provided a helpful overview of the divide in
modern scholarship about whether to interpret the Timaeus (and specifically
the Demiurge) in literal or metaphorical terms. Carl Sean O’Brien, The Demi-
urge in Ancient Thought (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015),
pp. 18–35.
33 Timaeus, 30a.
34 Timaeus, 30c–d.
35 Timaeus, 92c.
36 Timaeus, 31b. In participatory terms, it is also worth noting that fire, air,
water, and earth are caused to be like their Forms by divine activity shaping
them from triangles into geometrical solids (53c–55c).
37 Timaeus, 35a.
38 Timaeus, 34b.
39 Timaeus, 48a.
40 Timaeus, 49b.
41 Timaeus, 52a.
42 Timaeus, 50b.
43 Timaeus, 50c.
44 Timaeus, 50d.
45 Timaeus, 51a–b.
46 Timaeus, 52e.
47 Timaeus, 53b.
48 Victor Stenger’s historical survey is similar in scope, but less philosophically
rigorous and more dismissive of the role of theology in multiverse thought.
See Victor Stenger, God and the Multiverse: Humanity’s Expanding View of
the Cosmos (Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 2014).
49 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 236.
50 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 227.
51 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 228.
52 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 228.
53 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 235.
54 See Catherine Keller and Laurel C. Schneider (eds.), Polydoxy: Theology of
Multiplicity and Relation (New York, NY: Routledge, 2011). In Chapter 4
I critique Keller’s postmodern interpretation of infinity in Nicholas of Cusa.
She anachronistically reads a postmodern celebration of perspectives into
Cusa, who sees cosmic infinity as an image of the infinite God and as a way
we might come to know God.
55 In his collection of theology and multiverse essays, Klaas Kraay notes that
Plato ‘rejected the idea of a plurality of worlds’. Klaas J. Kraay, God and
the Multiverse (New York, NY: Routledge, 2015), p. 2. Likewise, Stenger
highlights the Timaeus as a key instance in Greek cosmology of the rejection
of multiple universes. In particular, he laments the long-term influence of the
theological character of Plato’s cosmological vision: ‘[t]he often-unquestioned
authority of Plato…has not always been to the benefit of human progress’.
Stenger, God and the Multiverse, p. 48. Multiverse sceptic Rodney Holder
also suggests that the Timaeus is concerned with describing the creation of a
singular universe. Rodney Holder, Big Bang Big God (Oxford: Lion Books,
2013), p. 67.
56 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 18.
57 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 24.
58 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 25. In the dialogue, this single unity is
referred to as ‘one form’. Timaeus, 35a.
 Plato on multiplicity 79
59 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 26.
60 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 26.
61 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, pp. 28–29.
62 Jacques Derrida, On The Name (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press,
1995), p. 124. See also John D. Caputo’s claim that it is ‘atheological and non-
human’. John D. Caputo, The Prayers and Tears of Jacques Derrida: Religion
without Religion (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1997), p. 36.
63 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 28.
64 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 29.
65 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 30.
66 Francis Macdonald Cornford, Plato’s Cosmology (London: Kegan Paul,
1937), p. 200.
67 Timaeus, 50b.
68 Though postmodern readings tend too far in the direction of denying any-
thing certain can be said about the Receptacle, it is true that Plato’s enigmatic
description has generated considerable dispute about what is meant by it.
In a helpful sketch of the controversy, Donald Zeyl depicts it as a kind of
enduring substratum that temporarily in its various parts takes on the Forms
it receives, which would not be inconsistent with a participatory outlook. See
Donald Zeyl, ‘Visualizing Platonic space’, in Richard D. Mohr and Barbara
M. Sattler (eds.) One Book, The Whole Universe: Plato’s Timaeus Today
(Las Vegas, NV: Parmenides Publishing, 2010), pp. 117–30.
69 In the Phaedo (102b), for example, there is a brief discussion of the relation-
ship between Forms (Tallness, Shortness), participated perfections (tallness,
smallness), and their existence in participants, in this case Simmias, who is
taller than Socrates but shorter than Phaedo, and therefore seems to contain
both perfections.
70 See Keith Ward and Peter Forrest in Chapter 1 for further discussion of selec-
tion principles.
71 Laura Mersini-Houghton, ‘Birth of the Universe from the Multiverse’,
September 22, 2008, available through arXiv/0809.3623, p. 2.
72 Mersini-Houghton, ‘Birth of the Universe from the Multiverse’, p. 7.
73 Mersini-Houghton, ‘Birth of the Universe from the Multiverse’, p. 8.
74 Mersini-Houghton, ‘Birth of the Universe from the Multiverse’, p. 8.
75 Timaeus, 50c.
76 Timaeus, 50d.
77 Timaeus, 53b.
78 Here it might be suggested that one difference between Plato’s Receptacle and
Mersini-Houghton’s pre-cosmic bath is that the former is receptive, while the
latter appears to be more formal in that it is replete with its own dynamism.
However, a close reading of Plato’s description belies such a false dichotomy.
He observes that the Receptacle, while a natural recipient of all bodies and
impressions, is ‘stirred and informed’ by them, and may also be likened to a
‘mother’, all of which suggest a degree of activity and production that compli-
cate the idea of the Receptacle as merely a passive, empty space. See Timaeus,
50c–d.
79 Timaeus, 39d–e.
80 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 189.
81 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 190.
82 For a general overview of Tegmark’s multiverse hierarchy, see Chapter 1.2.3.
83 Max Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 114. Unless otherwise stated, all
Tegmark quotations in this section refer to this article.
84 Tegmark, p. 114 (his own wording).
80 Plato on multiplicity
85 Tegmark, p. 118.
86 Tegmark, p. 118.
87 Tegmark, ‘Parallel Universes’, in Scientific American, May 2003, p. 49.
88 Tegmark, p. 116.
89 For example, Gil Jannes rejects such a form of extreme mathematical realism,
arguing that mathematics is at least in part a human construction without its
own external reality. See Gil Jannes, ‘Some Comments on the Mathematical
Universe’, Found. Phys. 39: 397–406, 2009. Likewise, Brian Greene argues
that physical reality exists independently of us and is not therefore dependent
on mathematics, which he sees as the product of human creativity. See Brian
Greene, The Hidden Reality (New York, NY: Random House, 2011), p. 341.
90 Tegmark, p. 117. In a provocative aside, he notes that this would leave ‘no
freedom for, say, miracles or free will in the traditional sense’. However, if all
possible universes that can exist do exist, this would also seem to imply the
existence of universes in which miracles and free will exist. Perhaps Tegmark
would respond that such properties would only amount to the subjective per-
ceptions of inhabitants of the universe. Thus, the ‘internal’ perspective of
these inhabitants would be such that they might believe they have free will,
but the ‘external’ perspective would acknowledge that all such properties
amount to mathematical structure that can be derived by the infinitely intel-
ligent mathematician.
91 Tegmark, p. 117.
92 Tegmark, p. 118.
93 Tegmark, p. 119.
94 Tegmark, ‘Parallel Universes’, p. 50.
95 This is not unlike the impulse to look beyond our own physical realm that
motivates cosmologists in the study of multiverses, or what Bernard Carr
refers to as the ‘outward journey’. It might also explain Tegmark’s claim that
‘modern theoretical physicists tend to be Platonists, suspecting that mathe-
matics describes the universe so well because the universe is inherently math-
ematical’. Tegmark, ‘Parallel Universes’, p. 49.
96 Republic, 525b.
97 Republic, 525b–-531d. For a close reading of these mathematical studies and
their metaphysical purpose of encouraging a turn to the intelligible realm, see
Mitchell Miller, ‘Figure, Ratio, Form: Plato’s Five Mathematical Studies’, in
Apeiron 32 (4), 1999, pp. 73–88.
98 Rubenstein is equally confounded by Tegmark’s ‘exceedingly strange’ inter-
pretation of Platonism. She astutely observes that the principle of plenitude at
the heart of Level IV is more consistent with the Atomism of Lucretius than
Platonic metaphysics. See Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, pp. 203–5.
99 Republic, 510e.
100 Republic, 511c.
101 Tegmark, p. 118.
102 Timaeus, 31a.
103 Timaeus, 53c–55c.
104 Timaeus, 56c.
105 Timaeus, 32c.
106 Timaeus, 35a–b.
107 Timaeus, 35b–36d.
108 Timaeus, 36e–37a.
109 As discussed earlier, in the Philebus mathematics also serves a mediating
function in terms of bridging the gap between the sensible and intelligible
realms. The argument is that all things ‘consist of a one and a many, and have
 Plato on multiplicity 81
in their nature a conjunction of limit and unlimitedness’. Within every seem-
ingly unlimited or infinite set of things, there exists Limit, by which things
can be definitely numbered and ordered. In this sense, number (or mathemat-
ics) can be used to bring order and meaning to the multiplicity of creation and
to provide the mechanism by which the cosmic many can be reduced to the
intelligible One. See Philebus, 16c–d.
110 Timaeus, 37d.
111 Timaeus, 37d.
112 Timaeus, 38a.
113 Timaeus, 39b–c.
114 Timaeus, 47a.
115 Timaeus, 47d.
116 See Chapter 1 for such criticisms of Tegmark’s Level IV multiverse.
117 Harte’s work is not only instructive in highlighting connections between Pla-
tonic and modern metaphysical discussions of composition, but also for its
relevance to contemporary debates in philosophy of science. For example,
Harte’s work can be regarded as a Platonic form of structural realism, which
emphasizes the structural content of scientific theories as a way of explain-
ing scientific continuity and success. For a provocative defence of structural
realism as a metaphysical thesis, see James Ladyman, Every Thing Must Go:
Metaphysics Naturalised (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007).
118 Mereology, the theory of parthood relations, has a long history in West-
ern philosophy and theology. Plato’s metaphysical dialogues, particularly
the Timaeus and Parmenides, feature momentous discussions of parts and
wholes, which is why they have reemerged as key focus points in modern
multiverse discussions. Mereology also occupies a prominent position in the
thought of medieval philosophers, including John Duns Scotus, Aquinas, and
William of Ockham. For a comprehensive historical survey of its role in medi-
eval philosophy, see Desmond Paul Henry, Medieval Mereology (Amsterdam:
Grüner, 1991). For a contemporary theological treatment of part-whole rela-
tions and participation in Thomistic metaphysics, see W. Norris Clarke, The
One and the Many: A Contemporary Thomistic Metaphysics (Notre Dame,
IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2001).
119 Verity Harte, Plato on Parts and Wholes (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2002), p. 13. All Harte quotations in this section refer to this text.
120 Harte, p. 11.
121 Harte, pp. 29–30.
122 Harte, p. 213.
123 Harte, p. 226. Here we might note an important parallel with attention to
form. The term ‘whole of wholes’ calls to mind the idea that participation
is about form, which is what something (in this case the cosmos) adds up to
(the whole), and its inner structure that also makes it what it is (wholes). In
the Timaeus, the form or character of the cosmos is to be found in the eter-
nal Forms before it is evident in the cosmos itself. The form of the cosmos
amounts to a whole of wholes, a complex structure that arises through the
participation of its constituent parts in eternal patterns.
124 Harte, p. 233.
125 Harte, p. 247.
126 Harte, p. 247.
127 Harte, p. 264. Indeed, Harte interprets the Receptacle mathematically. She
argues that the imposition of geometrical configurations upon the Receptacle
by the Demiurge enable the instantiation of the elements. As discussed below,
she describes the Receptacle in clearly participatory terms.
82 Plato on multiplicity
128 Harte, p. 271.
129 Harte, p. 271.
130 Timaeus, 90d.
131 Harte, p. 268.
132 Harte, p. 269.
133 Harte, p. 277.
134 Harte, p. 279.
135 I am grateful to Andrew Davison for conversations on the idea of inter-
relation within participation. For further discussion, see Davison,
Participation in God, p. 52.
136 In terms of intra-finite participation, it is worth noting that, in the
Parmenides, Plato seems to suggest that the Forms participate in each other:
‘forms among themselves can be combined with, or separated from, one
another’. Parmenides, 129e. Similarly, in the Republic there is an oblique
reference to the multiplicity of the Forms ‘by virtue of their communion…
with one another’. Republic, 476a.
137 Harte, p. 257.
138 Harte, p. 262.
139 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 107.
140 Andre Linde, ‘The inflationary multiverse’, in Bernard Carr (ed.), Universe or
Multiverse? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), p. 131.
141 Linde, p. 134.
142 Linde, p. 139.
143 Of additional relevance in terms of participation, Linde refers to the concept
of beauty in terms of its role in the selection of cosmic regions. He associates
the scientific idea of ‘symmetry’ (the suitability of the physical constants for
human life) with beauty; that is, if we can live in a given part of the inflation-
ary multiverse, then this suggests the existence of other similarly inhabitable
parts related to each other by symmetry (or beauty). This sense of relation
might find expression in a participatory account of beauty, whereby beauty
arises by virtue of the ordering and relation that define the different parts
of a whole. For example, the beauty of a house might be associated with the
ordering and the coherence of its component parts, such that each part of the
house is essential to the constitution of the whole and could not be under-
stood without reference to the whole, just as one part of a Level II multiverse
might in some sense owe its symmetry or beauty to its metaphysical depend-
ence on the cosmic whole.
144 Harte suggests preserving the spirit of the claim by ‘tying the identity of the
parts to a whole of which they are or could be part’. She uses the example of
a chair leg, discovered unattached from a chair. Harte, p. 278.
145 Harte, p. 277.
146 Harte, p. 281.
147 I extend this argument in a related manner in Chapter 4, with reference
to Catherine Keller’s postmodern reading of infinity in Nicholas of Cusa’s
cosmology.
3 Aquinas on diversity

In this chapter, I will bring the participatory metaphysical thought of

Aquinas into contact with the notion of cosmic diversity as it relates to
multiverse theory. As the discussion throughout this chapter will demon-
strate, Aquinas is a monumental figure in the history of Western partici-
patory thought. Building on the Platonic participatory tradition that was
explored in the previous chapter, he articulates one of the most influen-
tial accounts of creation and participation in the Christian tradition. His
view of creation’s relation to the creator is deeply rooted in Platonic (and
subsequent Neoplatonic) theology, particularly in terms of the core insight
that creation participates in God and only exists in relation to God. Unlike
modern multiverse theorists who often discuss God and the multiverse in
terms of two comparable or competing things, the key point of Aquinas’s
participatory vision is that God is the one focus of existence since all of
creation (whether in the form of a universe or multiverse) exists in relation
of participation in God. As part of his participatory vision, Aquinas under-
stands diversity to be an integral characteristic of the cosmos, expressing
the diversity of ways in which all parts of creation participate in God, the
source of existence on which all of creation is utterly dependent.
Given the significance of participation to Aquinas’s theology, his work
is rich with participatory language and themes. As such, before turn-
ing to consideration of its applicability to multiverse theory, it would be
instructive to begin this chapter with a detailed overview of his participa-
tory metaphysical thought. To that end, I will refer to five key participa-
tory texts, with a particular focus on Book I of Summa Contra Gentiles
and the first article of Summa Theologiae I.44, in both of which Aquinas
describes God’s relationship with creation. In the following three sections,
I will apply his participatory insights to the work of three scientifically
and theologically minded multiverse theorists. First, I will engage with
Robin Collins, who is a prominent philosophical advocate of the plausi-
bility of multiverse theory. I will suggest that he overlooks the importance
of diversity in Thomistic metaphysics in his treatment of the multiverse
hypothesis. I will then apply this Thomistic notion of diversity to the string
theory landscape proposal, a multiverse theory in which diversity is central.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003014553-3
84 Aquinas on diversity
Next, I will consider Don Page’s multiverse thought, which (in common
with Collins) is insufficiently metaphysical and which (also like Collins)
regards string theory as expressing the beauty of cosmic multiplicity. I will
demonstrate that Aquinas’s metaphysical notion of beauty, an important
aspect of his participatory thought, would strengthen Page’s own concepts
of God and creation. Finally, I will provide a response to multiverse theorist
Bernard Carr’s image of the cosmic uroborus. I will propose that Aquinas’s
theological circle of being more adequately conveys the unity and purpose
of a cosmos that shares in God’s existence than Carr’s strictly cosmological
model.

3.1 Thomistic participation: general overview

Initially, I will provide a general overview of the purpose and nature of
Aquinas’s participatory metaphysics, which he develops to explain the rela-
tionship between the diversity of creation and the unity of God’s perfect
being—a dynamic that is also referred to in theology as the many and the
one. After introductory comments, I will trace the development of his par-
ticipatory thought with reference to five key texts, considered in chronolog-
ical order. First, I will examine the three modes of participation outlined
by Aquinas in his exposition on Boethius’s De Hebdomadibus, with par-
ticular focus on the third mode of causal participation, which expresses the
God-creation relationship. Second, I will focus on his explication in Book
I of Summa Contra Gentiles of the causal mode of participation governing
God’s relationship with creation. Third, I will discuss the role of partici-
pation in Aquinas’s doctrine of creation, as expressed in the first article of
Summa Theologiae I.44. Fourth and fifth, I will assess his notions of par-
ticipation and reception in De Spiritualibus Creaturis and De Substantiis
Separatis, respectively. This will provide a representative illustration of
Aquinas’s vision of the participatory structure of the cosmos, while also
serving as a useful basis from which to engage with multiverse theories in
the remainder of this chapter.
For Aquinas, as for Plato, participation represents a compelling
approach to the fundamental metaphysical problem of the one and the
many. This problem calls for an explanation of the paradox that many
and varied beings exist within the cosmos, yet also seem to share in exist-
ence and together embody a community or commonality of beings, often
referred to as reality. In other words, there is an immense multiplicity
and diversity of beings and at the same time some kind of bond of unity
among them. As such, reality appears to be both one and many. As dis-
cussed in the previous chapter, Plato interprets this common attribute as
unity or goodness, deriving from an intelligible source (the absolute One
or the Good) that exists beyond being. Aquinas, though, is not just con-
cerned with the intelligibility of beings, but the reason for the existence
of beings at all.1 In his vision, the unity among created beings arises from
 Aquinas on diversity 85
their diverse participations in the perfection of God, who is the ultimate
source and act of existence. Thus, in W. Norris Clarke’s clarifying formu-
lation, Thomistic participation means that all things share in existence to
various degrees as received from the same source: ‘all finite beings par-
ticipate in existence from God’. 2 Participation in Aquinas, then, is deeply
concerned with creation and its motive and purpose, and may in that
sense be distinguished from the Platonic emphasis on the intelligibility
and identity of things.
To understand the metaphysical foundation on which Aquinas develops
participation as a way of reconciling the one and the many, it is crucial to
appreciate his distinction between essence and existence.3 Whereas Plato
frequently describes participation in terms of essences, Aquinas focuses on
the act of existence as paramount. The question of what something is (its
essence) thereby becomes subordinate to the question of why something is
(its existence). To consider what something is, is not the same (and in fact
not as fundamental) as affirming that it exists in a given way. The essence
(or the ‘what’) of a thing is distinct from the fact of its existence. For exam-
ple, the essence of a flower that exists and the essence of one that does
not exist are equivalent; the flower’s existence is therefore distinct from
what kind of a thing it is. There must be something different between these
essences or ideas of flowers, and the real flowers that share in the common
act of existence. As Aquinas suggests, the question of a thing’s essence ‘fol-
lows on the question of its existence’.4 Existence, then, is prior to essence,
and is that which allows essence to be. Aquinas uses the Latin esse (to be)
to give expression to this act of being.
In the early sections of his Summa Theologiae, Aquinas describes the
manner in which all created beings are composed of essence and exist-
ence, the first of which is the particular manner or mode in which a thing
exists, and the second of which is the act by which a thing actually exists.
If the essence and existence of a thing are different, its existence must be
caused either by its own essential principles, or by some exterior agent.
Since a thing (or its essential principles) cannot be the sufficient cause of
its own existence, Aquinas argues that its existence must be caused by
God. By contrast, God, as the first efficient cause, cannot be caused by
another, and ‘therefore it is impossible that in God His existence should
differ from His essence’. 5 In God alone, essence and existence are synon-
ymous, and this is what accounts for the difference between creator and
creation.6
For Aquinas, the link between the essence-existence distinction and par-
ticipation is vital. He fully integrates this distinction in his participatory
metaphysical scheme. All essence-existence composites (that is, all created
beings whose cause of existence is external) participate in existence. Each
being receives existence through participation in the perfect existence of
God. The essence of each being describes the manner in which it receives its
existence. In this sense, the cosmos consists of diverse participations of all
86 Aquinas on diversity
beings in the central perfection of existence. The question of why we exist
(as well as the particular form in which this is expressed) finds its answer in
the participatory structure of essence and existence in the universe: ‘just as
that which has fire, but is not itself fire, is on fire by participation; so that
which has existence but is not existence, is a being by participation’.7 In
fact, our existence can be thought of in participatory terms as a gift from,
or act of sharing by, God. Existence itself is a gift received from the fullness
of God’s existence, according to the diverse limitations and capacities of
the recipients. The unity of existence (the ‘oneness’ of reality) in the diverse
participations of limited beings (the ‘manyness’ of reality) follows from the
fullness of God’s existence that is freely and generously shared throughout
creation.
In this sense, Thomistic participation seeks to reconcile the one and the
many with a metaphysical structure by which God, the ultimate source
of all being, shares the fullness of his existence with many other created
beings, according to their own limited degrees (or essences). As a conse-
quence, our very existence (or ‘act of being’) is wholly dependent upon the
principle from which it is produced. Creation is therefore ‘a kind of rela-
tion’8 and participation expresses the radical dependence of the created act
of being (finite existence) on God (the central perfection of existence). It is
by virtue of God’s being that all others come to be a particular way. The
sharing of God’s existence among diverse creaturely participants illustrates
how divine unity can produce temporal diversity, and the metaphysical
dependence of the many on the one. This view of the creature participating
in the creator, entailing the radical dependence of all things on God, will
be the aspect of Aquinas’s participatory thought upon which this chap-
ter focuses. However, it is not the only kind of participation described by
Aquinas, and it would therefore be useful initially to consider his early
threefold classification of participation.
In light of this background, I will now consider five texts from differ-
ent periods in Aquinas’s career to provide a sense of the development of
his treatment of metaphysical participation. By examining the texts in
chronological order, it will be shown that participation comes to occupy
a central place in his thought. Although the idea of participation, in the
sense of created effects produced by a first cause, is present early in his
writing, it is systematically expressed in the Summa Contra Gentiles and
Summa Theologiae, and continues to be developed thereafter. While he
clearly inherits participatory ways of thought from Plato, he develops his
own vision of participation to express the dependence of creation on God
as its perfect first cause.

3.1.1 In De Hebdomadibus
In his commentary on Boethius’s early sixth-century text De Hebdomadibus,
Aquinas defines participation and provides a threefold classification of
 Aquinas on diversity 87
different modes of participation. Although there is considerable uncertainty
regarding the date of his commentary,9 it is worth focusing on this text
as a starting point for assessing the development of Aquinas’s participa-
tory thought, since it likely represents his first systematic reflection on the
subject. Boethius, whose treatise Aquinas critically engages, was a medie-
val Roman philosopher, whose The Consolation of Philosophy is widely
regarded as one of the most influential works of the Middle Ages, and
whose translations of Plato and Aristotle made him a significant interme-
diary between the Greek and medieval Christian worlds. Though Aquinas
ultimately develops and amends Boethius’s analysis, the Roman thinker’s
emphasis on the metaphysics of creation—of what it means to bring some-
thing into being—comes into focus as crucial to Aquinas’s understanding
of participation.
In his treatise, Boethius is concerned with the relationship between
participation and substantiality. In spite of the short length of the discus-
sion, and its somewhat unsatisfactory conclusion, this is a question of pro-
found importance to the Christian participatory account of the distinction
between creator and creation. Ostensibly, there might seem to be conflict
between participation (the idea that something can be explained by some-
thing else) and substantiality (the idea that something is inherently and
self-sufficiently intelligible). To illustrate this apparent conflict, Boethius
considers the question of whether things are good by participation or by
substance. If things are good by participation, ‘they are in no wise good in
themselves’.10 Yet if things are good by substance, they would be good in
themselves and therefore all things would be equivalent to God, which he
dismisses as an ‘impious’ notion.11 Instead, he proposes that things are good
‘simply because their existence has derived from the will of the good’.12
Since this is a kind of received being, things can be good while remaining
distinct from the first good (God) from which they are derived.
In his commentary on Boethius’s text, Aquinas seeks to demonstrate that
participation and substantiality need not be opposites. He begins his dis-
cussion of participation with an etymological definition: ‘For “to partici-
pate” is, as it were, “to grasp a part”’.13 He explains that participation is
when something receives ‘in a particular way that which belongs to another
in a universal way’.14 In this sense, something can be said to participate in a
given perfection or quality when it possesses that perfection or quality in a
partial or specific manner. Since the subject is not identical to the perfection
in which it participates, it is possible for other subjects to participate in the
same perfection in different ways.
With this preliminary definition in mind, Aquinas proceeds to outline
three different modes of participation. First, he describes what is often
called ‘logical’ participation, which describes the relationship between
species, genus, and individual. He refers to the way in which humans are
said to participate in animal because humans do not possess the ‘intelli-
gible structure’ of animal in its ‘total commonality’.15 In a similar way,
88 Aquinas on diversity
he notes that Socrates ‘participates’ in human. Thus, there is a participa-
tory relationship between the individual and species (Socrates and man)
and between species and genus (man and animal). Socrates, while sharing
in what it means to be a man in his own particular way, is not identical
with the ‘commonality’ of all other men, just as humans, while sharing in
some common nature of animal, do not embody the full extent of animal.
Socrates is not strictly identical to human, and human is not strictly iden-
tical to animal, and this distinction enables participation to be applied to
the logical relations of species, genus, and individual. Given his focus on
defining relations between different categories, Aquinas does not seem to
be granting ontological weight to this first mode of logical participation.
Second, Aquinas describes the participatory relationship between subject
and accident, and matter and form. He notes that subject may participate in
accident, and matter in form, ‘because a substantial form, or an accidental
one, which is common by virtue of its own intelligible structure, is deter-
mined to this or that subject’.16 In this mode of participation, the subject
receives (and thus participates in) an accidental or substantial form in its
own partial and particular way. This means that a form can be shared in by
many different subjects, though in each matter-form composite, the partic-
ipated perfection is restricted according to the way in which it is received.
This second mode of participation is often called ‘ontological’ participa-
tion, since it is concerned with real composition, whereas the first mode
refers only to logical explanation.
Here, it is worth noting that Boethius uses the term ‘participation’ in the
sense of this second mode of participation, whereby a subject is said to par-
ticipate in an accident. He refers to qualities such as whiteness, heaviness,
and rotundity, all of which are accidental (or additional) properties that are
not the same as the ‘particular substance’ of a subject.17 This view of partic-
ipation is the basis for his assumption that participation and substantiality
are in conflict. Since, as he believes, to participate is to share in accidental
properties, the term cannot be applied to the substantial being of a sub-
ject. Thus, participation involves the accidental characteristics of a partic-
ipant, and not its substance. In response, Aquinas applies participation to
the being of the substance, such that things are good by participation and
have being by participation.18 This implies the essence-existence distinction
noted earlier and discussed further below.
Third, and of particular relevance to this chapter, Aquinas describes
what might be called ‘causal’ participation, whereby an effect participates
in its cause, especially when the effect is not equal to the power of its cause.
He illustrates this mode of participation with the image of the air partici-
pating in the sun, ‘because it does not receive that light with the brilliance
it has in the sun’.19 By this analogy he means that the sunlight is less present
in the air than it is in the sun itself, so we might say that the air receives
(or shares in) the light in a diminished or partial way, whereas it would
be fully and perfectly present in the sun. This is consistent with Aquinas’s
 Aquinas on diversity 89
initial definition of participation whereby something (the air) receives in
a particular way that which belongs (the light) to another (the sun) in a
universal way.
Although this third mode of causal participation is not considered any
further in Aquinas’s commentary on Boethius, it is extremely significant for
his doctrine of creation. Just as the air receives sunlight to a lesser degree
than the sun itself, created beings participate in esse in the way in which an
effect participates in a higher order cause. Created beings receive (and par-
ticipate in) esse, the act of existence, from the fullness of God’s being. The
effect (or created being) receives its being in a partial and limited manner,
not in the full and undiminished way of its cause. At the same time, the
effect resembles and bears a likeness to its cause, proceeding from the cause
according to some intelligible pattern.
With this causal mode of participation, informed by the essence-exist-
ence distinction, Aquinas can relate the simplicity and unity of God to
the diversity and complexity of creation. Unlike God, in whom essence
and existence coincide, all created beings receive their existence by partic-
ipation in God, so that their essence and existence are distinct. 20 Created
beings share in or participate in existence from God, not according to
Boethius’s unsatisfactory model, but in a fundamental metaphysical pat-
tern in which participation expresses the dependence of all things on God,
such that the existence of the cause accounts for the existence (and nature)
of all its effects. This is not so much a case of Platonic formal causality,
but a sharing of God’s fullness of being throughout the created order, or a
‘communication of being’. 21

3.1.2 Summa Contra Gentiles

In his Summa Contra Gentiles, likely composed shortly after his commen-
tary on Boethius’s De Hebdomadibus, 22 Aquinas continues to define and
develop his participatory metaphysics, particularly in terms of the third
mode of causal participation governing the relationship between God and
creation. The text is rich with participatory language and gives deeper
expression and explication to some of the participatory insights in his rela-
tively brief critique of Boethius. While there are dozens of chapters within
the four books of the text that address participation, it will be sufficient for
the purposes of this section to consider some representative examples from
Book One, in which he considers the sense in which an effect might be said
to participate in its cause, and the implications for this mode of causal par-
ticipation for the relationship between God and creation.
In Book One, Chapter 29, Aquinas considers the likeness of creatures to
God in a manner that follows clearly from the third mode of causal partic-
ipation. As noted earlier, an effect can be said to participate in its cause in
the sense that it shares some similarity with the cause that produced it. This
similarity expresses the relationship between cause and effect such that the
90 Aquinas on diversity
nature of the former can be known with reference to the latter. Aquinas
applies this causal participatory framework to the relationship between
God and creation, which is an instance of an effect participating in a higher
order cause. He explains that, even in the case of effects that fall short
of their causes, ‘some likeness must be found between them’ since causes
produce similar effects. 23 As such, the form of an effect will be found in
some measure in a transcending cause (such as God), but ‘according to
another mode and another way’. 24 Whereas Aquinas uses sunlight to illus-
trate causal participation in his commentary on Boethius, in this chapter
he alludes to the heat generated by the sun, which bears some likeness
among sublunary bodies to the active power of the sun itself, although not
in the same way. The sun is therefore somewhat like the things in which it
produces effects, but also unlike these things, which only possess heat in a
limited way: ‘So, too, God gave things all their perfections and thereby is
both like and unlike all of them’. 25
Aquinas refers to the limited reception of participated perfections as
‘diminished participation’. 26 The effect receives (or participates in) a
perfection that is found perfectly in God. It has, albeit in a partial and
diminished way, ‘what belongs to God’ and is thereby like God. 27 While
we might say that an effect is like its cause (or a creature is like God),
the converse is not true, since the perfection belongs to God, not the
creature. God is not like the creature, just as we do not suppose that a
woman is like her image on a computer screen. In this way, the likeness
each creature bears of God is deficient, falling short of what belongs to
God, though sufficiently similar for the intelligible connection between
God and creature to be identified. Aquinas’s notion of diminished par-
ticipation not only expresses the deficient way in which creation bears a
likeness to its cause, but also the way in which creation is as diverse and
manifold as its cause is unified and simple. The (divine) cause is one, but
the (creaturely) effects it produces are many. 28
Later in Book One, Aquinas continues to explore the way in which the
causal participatory relationship between God and creation results in a
created order of enormous diversity and multiplicity. The things made by
God, the created participants, receive ‘in a divided and particular way that
which in Him is found in a simple and universal way’.29 To the extent that
a participant might share in divine goodness or beauty, it is not according
to the same ‘mode of being’ as God, 30 but only according to the particular
mode of the participant, and so the participated perfection is only ‘pos-
sessed in a partial way’.31 Given the vast inequality between creation and
God, it is only possible for creation, in its totality, to bear a likeness to God
through radical diversity. It is precisely because created things are imper-
fect representations of divine being that there are many different such rep-
resentations, or participants.32 Creation, then, is inescapably diverse and
varied, and this is a natural consequence of the kind of causal participatory
relationship that it shares with God.
 Aquinas on diversity 91
3.1.3 Summa Theologiae
In his Summa Theologiae, composed between 1265 and 1268, Aquinas
reiterates and refines many of the participatory ideas outlined in his Summa
Contra Gentiles. In particular, he presents in I.44.1 what might be consid-
ered his participatory account of creation. The concept of participation is
fundamental to his account of the relationship between God and creation,
as well as the inherent diversity of creation by virtue of the diverse ways in
which created beings participate in God’s being.
Aquinas’s participatory view of creation follows from his understanding
of God as ‘self-subsisting being’, the first cause of all being which subsists
by itself and is thereby distinguished from all other beings. To illustrate
this, he refers back to an earlier section of the Summa in which he presents
three arguments for the coincidence of essence and existence in God. 33
First, if the essence and existence of a thing are different, its existence must
be caused by its own essential principles or some exterior agent. Since God
is the ‘first efficient cause’, his existence cannot be caused by another, and
so His essence and existence cannot be different. Second, he argues that
existence (which makes every form or nature actual) may be compared to
essence as actuality is to potentiality. Since in God there is no potentiality,
it follows that his essence and existence are equivalent. Third, he makes the
participatory claim that something aflame ‘has’ fire but is not itself fire and
is on fire by participation. Likewise, we ‘have’ existence from God, but we
are not existence itself, and we exist by participation. Since God cannot
be participated being, He must be his own existence and not just His own
essence.
In addition to being self-subsisting, God is also one. Again, Aquinas
refers back to an earlier section in which a threefold argument for God’s
oneness is presented.34 First, God’s essence belongs to God alone, and can-
not be communicated to many. There cannot be many Gods in the same
way that what makes a man a particular man is only communicable to one.
Second, the perfections of all things are in God, whereas if many Gods
existed they would be different and thus not each able to contain all such
perfections. Third, the unity of creation suggests the prior existence of one
ordering being, since ‘many are reduced into one order by one better than
by many’.35 This first and most perfect cause, which reduces all diverse
things into one order, is God.
Having established the self-subsistence and unity of God, Aquinas out-
lines his argument that all of creation is dependent upon and participates
in God:

It must be said that every being in any way existing is from God. For
whatever is found in anything by participation, must be caused in it by
that to which it belongs essentially, as iron becomes ignited by fire…
all beings apart from God are not their own being, but are beings by
92 Aquinas on diversity
participation. Therefore it must be that all things which are diversified
by the diverse participation of being, so as to be more or less perfect,
are caused by one First Being, Who possesses being most perfectly.36

While stated concisely, this is a complex piece of reasoning, expressing

Aquinas’s fundamental participatory outlook. For the purposes of this over-
view, it will be useful to make three general observations. First, this passage
contains what might be thought of as Aquinas’s participation principle. If
a perfection or characteristic is found in any created thing, it cannot be
explained by reference to the thing itself. Instead, it must be caused in it
by that to which it belongs essentially, and which is the perfection itself,
without any need for further explanation. In Aquinas’s somewhat abstruse
example, the cause of the characteristic of being aflame is not to be found
within the iron, but with reference to fire itself: the iron has fire, but is not
itself fire. By this principle, all created things have being by participation
in God, who is being.37 This principle applies not only to participation in
existence, but all other perfections, such as beauty. Thus, when beauty is
found in a created thing, its beauty cannot be explained by the thing itself,
but must be caused in it by beauty itself, which is God, whose beauty does
not require any explanation. The created thing has beauty from God, and
may participate in and embody beauty in its own limited way according to
its own essence.
Second, Aquinas’s argument illustrates the way in which the perfect
unity of self-subsisting divine being produces many created beings. If God
is the cause of all things, it follows that such things are different and dis-
tinct from God and may therefore be defined as not God. If God is the very
act of being and all other beings are only beings by participation, this might
be thought to imply a negation of being as it relates to creation.38 Yet this
would be to overlook the positive force of Aquinas’s participatory account
of creation. His conception of a self-subsisting, perfectly simple God means
that created beings must necessarily be distinct from being itself. This
distinction, or division, between the multiplicity of created being and the
unity of being itself is a matter of participation: created being participates
in being received from God. The ostensibly ‘negative’ sense in which cre-
ated being is necessarily not its own being is therefore subordinate to the
fundamental and positive participatory insight that beings have being (and
perfections and qualities) from God.
Third, Aquinas’s creation argument establishes the centrality of partici-
pation in terms of creation. He suggests not only that all beings apart from
God are not their own being, but also that they are beings by participation.
Although he moves quickly from the first idea that things are not identical
with their being to the second idea that they participate in divine being,
upon reflection it can be seen that the former implies the latter. As distinct
from God and without their own being, all created things clearly share
something in common: participation in God’s being. This participatory
 Aquinas on diversity 93
condition distinguishes beings from God, but it also distinguishes beings
from each other, since this common source of being is participated in
diverse ways.

3.1.4 De Spiritualibus Creaturis

In Article 1 of this text, composed between 1267 and 1268, Aquinas—in
the course of rejecting matter-form composition of purely spiritual crea-
tures—provides additional insight into the nature of participation and
reception. He proceeds from the basis that God, as the ‘first being’ and
‘infinite act’, contains the entire fullness of being, which is not limited
to any specific nature.39 God’s existence is thus not an existence that is
received by some nature which is not its own existence, otherwise it would
be limited to that nature. As such, God is identical with his own existence,
which cannot be said of any other being. To illustrate that this existence is
also self-subsisting and one, Aquinas notes that it would be incoherent for
a perfection such as whiteness to exist as many separate whitenesses, and
that only one ‘whiteness’ can be apart from every subject and recipient.
As a consequence, every created being, as distinct from God, is not its
own existence but ‘has an existence that is received in something, through
which the existence is itself contracted’.40 This means that a participated
perfection is received in a limited way, according to the nature of that which
receives it. In terms of participation, Aquinas highlights the consequent dis-
tinction between the nature of the thing that participates in existence and
the participated existence itself. He makes an analogy between the relation
of act to potency and the relation of the participated existence and the
nature (or specific thing) participating in it. Again, this underlines the point
that there is a distinction between essence and existence in created beings,
whereby the essence of each being receives and limits acts of existence in
which the being participates.

3.1.5 De Substantiis Separatis

In Chapter VIII of this text, composed after 1271, Aquinas responds
to Avicebron, an eleventh century Jewish philosopher inspired by
Neoplatonism. According to Avicebron’s doctrine of the universality of
matter, all created things are composed of matter and form, including
angels. Aquinas, though, contends that spiritual substances are immate-
rial, though they are still distinct from God, in whose perfect existence they
share. In every other being other than the First Being, there is both the act
of existence and the specific mode that receives this existence.41 Anything
that participates in being from the First Being does so in ‘a particular way,
according to a certain determinate mode of being’.42 He adds that spiritual
substances participate in God’s existence according to their own essence,
so that their being is ‘not infinite but finite’.43 All created beings, including
94 Aquinas on diversity
spiritual beings, can only participate in God’s being in the way that their
own limited essences will allow. The finitude of created essences ensures
that creaturely participation will itself be necessarily finite and partial.

3.1.6 Summary
As this section indicates, metaphysical participation is central to the way
in which Aquinas understands the relationship between God and creation.
His central belief is that creation is not self-standing, but exists by virtue
of participation in God. Creation participates in God and only exists in
relation to God. To that extent, creation is contingent because it exists
only by participation in God’s own perfect existence. Since it is in con-
tinual receipt of its existence as a gift from God, there is a sense in which
creation in itself is nothing and is at any given moment one step away
from nothingness. According to Aquinas, everything exists by sharing in
God’s existence, just as we might say that things are warm not because
of any warmth that is proper to them, but because they participate in the
sun’s warming light. Participation defines and governs the diverse ways
in which different beings in a complex cosmic order can share in God’s
existence, which is graciously and freely donated, and which is the only
thing holding everything else in existence. Having reviewed the role of
participation in Aquinas’s metaphysics and cosmology, and its implica-
tions for the diverse ways in which a diversity of beings participate in
God, it would now be worthwhile to turn to consider the ways in which
three contemporary thinkers explore the issue of cosmic diversity within
multiverse thought—and, of most relevance to the purposes of this book,
the ways in which cosmic diversity in Aquinas’s participatory vision might
bear upon this conversation.

3.2 Robin Collins on diversity

In the first part of this chapter’s engagement with contemporary thinkers,
I will examine the American philosopher of religion Robin Collins’s work
on the compatibility of Christian belief with multiverse thought. While his
work represents a more positive and open alternative to the unease with
which theologians have typically approached multiverse thought, I will
argue that his analytical approach overlooks the metaphysical aspects of
the scientific and theological questions with which he is concerned. In addi-
tion to his engagement with multiverse theories, Collins has also argued for
the plausibility of multiple incarnations in the context of a universe with
extraterrestrial intelligent life. I will highlight his tentative treatment of
diversity in Thomistic metaphysics in this argument, and I will argue that
this vision of a diverse creation should be considered more extensively in
terms of engagement with the multiverse hypothesis. Finally, I will suggest
that the diversity inherent in Thomistic participatory metaphysics can be
 Aquinas on diversity 95
brought into mutual constructive interaction with multiverse thought, with
specific reference to the diversity of environments entailed in string theory.

3.2.1 Collins on multiverses and the incarnation

In recent years, Collins has emerged as one of the leading proponents of
constructive theological engagement with the multiverse hypothesis. In
Bernard Carr’s multiverse volume, which is mostly given over to scientific
discussions in which theology is largely viewed as irrelevant or simply false,
Collins offers an explicitly theological approach to the multiverse hypoth-
esis. Among the contributors in Carr’s volume (and, of course, many other
scientists and philosophers), the multiverse hypothesis is often advanced as
an alternative to a divinely designed single universe. Against this consen-
sus, Collins argues that not only is the multiverse hypothesis compatible
with Christian theism, but that contemporary physics and cosmology could
be understood to suggest a theistic explanation of the universe (or multi-
verse). As such, he contends that theists might even be inclined to prefer a
multiverse over a single universe.
In a familiar analytical philosophical move, Collins operates with what
he refers to as a standard ‘Anselmian’ conception of God, whereby God
is defined as ‘the greatest possible being’, although he allows that even a
minimal hypothesis of God as some sort of highly powerful and intelligent
agent, responsible for the existence of the universe, would be sufficient for
his argument.44 Given this basic idea of God of as infinitely powerful and
creative, he believes that it would make sense for creation to reflect these
attributes such that ‘physical reality might be larger than one universe’.45
To the extent that Western theology has not stressed the idea that the uni-
verse is infinite, he insists that this is due to historical factors (such as the
influence of Aristotelian metaphysics) rather than anything intrinsically
connected to the idea of God as infinitely creative. Like many other histo-
rians of multiverse thought, he identifies Nicholas of Cusa and Giordano
Bruno as key figures in the emergence of the ‘positive suggestion’ that
space is infinite, ‘with perhaps an infinity of worlds’.46 He believes that this
theological justification for a multiverse scenario has been strengthened by
recent developments in cosmology and particle physics, which have shown
that the visible part of the universe is vastly larger than previously assumed:
‘Thus, it makes sense that this trend will continue and physical reality will
be found to be much larger than a single universe’.47
Furthermore, Collins argues that an infinitely creative God might cre-
ate many universes via ‘some sort of universe generator’, since this would
be ‘somewhat more elegant and ingenious’ than creating such universes
ex nihilo.48 To the potential objection that this would be an inefficient
way to proceed, he offers the conception of God as an artist with a cre-
ation motive of expressing infinite creativity and ingenuity, rather than
an engineer preoccupied with efficiency.49 With this analogy of God
96 Aquinas on diversity
as creative artist, Collins is (perhaps intentionally) echoing the Thomistic
depiction of creation as artificiatum divinae artis, or an artistic product of
divine workmanship.50 Yet invoking a universe generator as an explanation
of fine-tuning does not avoid the suggestion of design, since such a process
would still need to be designed in such a way as to provide for the crea-
tion of life-sustaining domains. At this point, Collins appeals to the beauty
and elegance of the laws of nature as an explanation for the fine-tuning
disclosed by modern physics. Given his conception of God as the greatest
possible being, and hence with a perfect aesthetic sense of creativity and
ingenuity, he concludes that it is unsurprising that we inhabit a cosmos
of ‘great subtlety and beauty at the fundamental level’. 51 Instead of negat-
ing the need for God, then, the multiverse hypothesis is more explicable
in Collins’s model of an infinitely creative artist whose creation motive is
expressed in the immensity, beauty, and rationality of the cosmos.
Although Collins describes the way in which an infinitely creative God
might produce an infinite and intelligible cosmos, he does not explicitly
address the diversity of the cosmos that is so central to multiverse theories,
nor how this diversity might follow from the nature of God. This is a par-
ticularly curious oversight in light of his consideration of cosmic diversity
in the context of a related question regarding extraterrestrial intelligence
and the incarnation. In Klaas J. Kraay’s collection of theological essays
on multiverse thought, Collins argues for the plausibility of an ‘enormous
number of races’ of embodied conscious agents that are causally isolated
from humans in different parts of the universe. 52 God is perfectly good,
and wishes to create a reality that realises value. If the existence of humans
positively contributes to the value of reality, then presumably other con-
scious agents would add value, and so Collins concludes that the best of all
possible realities would contain an ‘infinite number’ of such races.53 Given
the possibility of so many other races, it is highly likely that a very large
number of them would be fallen while highly unlikely that ours would be
the only one in which God became incarnate. Through the dubious mech-
anism of the Bayes’s theorem of the probability calculus, Collins estimates
that the probability for the human race being the only one in which God
became incarnate is ‘about one in a million’, suggesting a vast number of
other incarnations.54
Apart from his analytical arguments, it is noteworthy that Collins also
includes a reference to a distinctly participatory passage on the diversity of
creation from Aquinas’s Summa Theologiae, though he does not specify
the part of the text from which he quotes:

For [God] brought things into being in order that His goodness might
be communicated to creatures, and be represented by them; and
because His goodness could not be adequately represented by one
creature alone, He produced many and diverse creatures… For good-
ness, which in God is simple and uniform, in creatures is manifold and
 Aquinas on diversity 97
divided and hence the whole universe together participates the divine
goodness more perfectly, and represents it better than any single crea-
ture whatever.55

This participatory account of the diversity of creation not only mer-

its further consideration in the immediate context of Collins’s argument
for multiple incarnations, but it would also be extremely valuable to his
theological case for the multiverse hypothesis, particularly in light of the
diversity and complexity inherent in multiverse theories. Ironically, the
Thomistic metaphysics of diversity identified by Collins in his essay on
incarnations would strengthen his argument in his essay on multiverses,
in which the relationship between God and creation is considered in a
relatively undeveloped manner. His effort to reconcile God and the multi-
verse would be assisted with a closer attention to Aquinas’s participatory
metaphysics, specifically as it relates to cosmic diversity, which will be the
focus of the next section.

3.2.2 Aquinas on cosmic diversity

As illustrated by the creation argument in the Summa Theologiae (I.44) and
discussed earlier in Chapter 3.1.3, Aquinas holds that all created beings are
beings by participation. The diversity of creation is a consequence of the
diverse participation of beings in God, the First Being who possesses being
most perfectly. Participation therefore assumes the primacy and perfection
of the One, from which the diversity of all other (less perfect) beings is
derived. Given Collins’s oblique reference to Thomistic metaphysical diver-
sity, which he elects neither to examine closely nor to apply to his multi-
verse thesis, it would be worth focusing on Aquinas’s claim that reality is
diverse by virtue of diverse participation in divine being. This vision of
cosmic diversity will then be applied to specific multiverse theories in con-
temporary cosmology in the following section.
As Aquinas suggests, for beings to be distinguished from God as self-sub-
sisting being implies multiplication of created being. Paradoxically, it is
precisely in what things share in common—their participation in divine
being—that they may be distinguished from each other as diverse parts
of creation. Diversity is part of the metaphysical structure of the cosmos
because of each thing’s diverse participation in being. The whole universe
(or, perhaps, multiverse) can be seen as diverse and limited participations
in God’s perfect existence. Each being shares in God’s being according to
its own limited capacity or essence.56 As such, each being is distinct from
God in its own diverse way, and may be thought to stand in its own relation
to God, according to the extent to which it exemplifies the perfection of
God’s being.57 Diversity, then, is a fundamental characteristic of the created
order, reflecting the diverse participation of many beings in the same per-
fect source of existence, on which all of creation depends.
98 Aquinas on diversity
In addition, the diversity of creation is inherent in the specific mode of
causal participation described earlier in this chapter. Each created effect
participates in its cause, but only in a limited and imperfect fashion, ‘by
way of a certain assimilation which is far removed and defective’.58 This
mode of causal participation, by which effects bear a partial likeness to
the cause by which they were produced, shows that the perfection, sim-
plicity, and unity of God can only be represented by way of diversity and
multiplicity in creation. The diminished or deficient way in which creatures
participate in God represents a divided representation of what is undivided
in God. In basic terms, creation is diverse while God is unified and simple.
Creation is thus a riotous composition of diverse participants, each sharing
in the fullness of God’s being and distinct from one another according to
the degree to which they approximate this perfect being.59
While the diverse way in which finite beings share in the infinite fullness
of being might be regarded as indicative of a cosmos that is unruly and dis-
ordered and therefore accidental or unintentional, it should be remembered
that Thomistic participation expresses the ‘multiplicity of an intelligible
order’.60 In negative terms, we might think that participation expresses the
diminished way in which divine similitude is present in created being. The
more positive corollary is that the diversity and multiplicity of creation is
an intentional and inherent consequence of this metaphysical structure. As
First Being, God brings into being a diverse creation with many partici-
pants who occupy their own place according to their own being, of which
God has full knowledge. This being so, creation should not just be thought
of in terms of deficient effects that fall short of the perfection of the cause,
but as diverse by necessity, since imperfect effects may only represent God’s
perfection in a multitude of diverse ways. Aquinas explains that created
effects do not imitate God perfectly, but only to the extent that they are
able. This imitation may be defective, but that is ‘precisely because what
is simple and one, can only be represented by diverse things’.61 This sense
of the intentionality and intelligibility of cosmic diversity fits well with
Collins’s conception of God as the purposive creator of a vast and complex
multiverse ensemble.62
In addition to ascribing purpose and intention to God’s infinitely creative
power, Collins also describes God as an artist, seeking to maximise value
and goodness in creation. In light of Aquinas’s participatory metaphysics,
we might add that the intelligible diversity in creation is suggestive of a
work of art: ‘by His wisdom He is the cause of diverse things as known by
Him, even as an artificer, by apprehending diverse forms, produces diverse
works of art’.63 Creation, as the product of divine workmanship, embod-
ies the perfection of its cause, albeit in the distinct and diverse participa-
tions of its constituent parts. Indeed, Collins’s observation that an artist
‘with infinite power and materials available would not necessarily care
much about efficiency’64 is consistent with the kind of cosmic diversity in
multiverse thought that might seem wasteful or inefficient but is, properly
 Aquinas on diversity 99
understood, the only way in which imperfect beings might represent a
diminished likeness of what is simple and one in God.

3.2.3 String theory landscape

Having considered Collins’s argument for the compatibility of God and
the multiverse, which would be strengthened by reference to the diversity
in Thomistic participatory metaphysics that he mentions elsewhere but
does not apply to the multiverse, I will now suggest some ways in which
this notion of diversity might be aligned with a multiverse theory in which
diversity is paramount, specifically the string theory landscape proposal.
This has been the subject of considerable scientific attention in recent years,
with its development prompting particle physicists to take an interest in the
multiverse proposal. Given that string theory implies an immensely diverse
landscape of different universes, perhaps as many as 10500, it will be a suit-
able model to bring into interaction with the notion of cosmic diversity in
Collins and Aquinas.65
As discussed in Chapter 1, Tegmark’s multiverse hierarchy constitutes a
four-level order of theories of physics, ‘allowing progressively greater diver-
sity’.66 On this account, the Level II multiverse will be more diverse than
the Level I multiverse, since it not only includes domains with different
initial conditions, but also physical constants and dimensionality. Tegmark
believes that string theory may offer a ‘specific realization’ of the Level II
multiverse.67 In string theory, which is viewed by physicists such as Stephen
Hawking to be the closest account to an accurate description of the uni-
verse, the fundamental objects that give rise to elementary particles are
one-dimensional strings, not the point-like particles of elementary phys-
ics. String theory suggests that there are actually ten or eleven dimensions,
with some of the higher dimensions ‘compactified’ and thus beyond direct
human experience. In light of this idea of compactification, Tegmark pro-
poses four sub-levels of increasing diversity: IIa with the same effective laws
but different post-inflationary bubbles; IIb with different laws according to
supergravity (a type of quantum theory concerning the interactions of ele-
mentary particles); IIc with different ‘fluxes’ (magnetic fields) that stabilise
extra dimensions; and IId with different compactifications and dimension-
ality, different symmetries, and different elementary particles.
According to Leonard Susskind’s influential string landscape model,
there is likely to be an immense number of string theory vacuum states, each
associated with a different universe within a large multiverse. He believes
that the radical cosmic diversity entailed in string theory is, if anything,
currently underestimated, as he expects the actual number of string vacua
to be ‘astronomical, measured not in millions or billions but in googles or
googleplexes’.68 He concludes that string theory provides a natural expla-
nation of the fine-tuning of our own universe, which becomes much less
surprising in the context of such an immense diversity of other universes
100 Aquinas on diversity
across the landscape.69 Moreover, he maintains that string theory provides
a framework in which the anthropic principle can be studied in a ‘rigor-
ous way’, with quantitative information able to be extracted in terms of
determining the number of vacua with given properties, such as the cosmo-
logical constant.70 In response to the persistent criticism that string theory
is unempirical, unfalsifiable, and therefore unscientific, he maintains that
string theory has provided a robust testing ground for important cosmo-
logical ideas, including some of his other theories concerning the status of
information in black holes.71
At this point, we might observe three ways in which the cosmic diversity
inherent in string theory can be viewed as a modern scientific expression
of the cosmic diversity inherent in Aquinas’s participatory doctrine of cre-
ation. First, Aquinas’s notion that what is simple and one in God can only
be represented by diverse being in creation is given powerful scientific artic-
ulation by the immense scale of the many universes associated with string
theory landscape. If the fullness of God’s being can only be expressed in
diverse participations, then this would be especially true of a landscape in
which the scope for such participations is exponentially higher. Such an
expansive landscape might provide an even stronger intimation of divine
plenitude. As string theory proponent Brian Greene notes, each elemen-
tary particle in the cosmos may consist of a single string. The particles
are distinguished because their respective strings undergo different vibra-
tional patterns. Different elementary particles may thus be seen as different
‘notes’ on a fundamental string. To extend the musical imagery, he explains
that the universe, composed of an enormous number of vibrating strings is
‘akin to a cosmic symphony’.72 This symphonic metaphor might remind us
of Aquinas’s description of creation as an artistic product of divine work-
manship, an outpouring of the fullness of God into a variety of created
things (or strings), each reflecting God’s fullness in its own way.73
Second, the string theory landscape, in its tremendous diversity, repre-
sents the many ways in which created being might imitate and participate
in God. Given the necessity for imperfect created things to participate
in the perfection of God in diverse ways, it seems that creation is like a
vast distribution or communication of the fullness of God’s perfection. In
Susskind’s account of the string theory landscape, the outlines of creation
are strikingly varied and characterised in ways that would be applicable to
the geography of our own world (while acknowledging that these approx-
imations may break down given the complexity of the landscape and the
speculative nature of the string theory enterprise). Some parts of the string
landscape are, he explains, flat plains, while in others we encounter hills
and valleys, domain walls, and mountain passes, such that ‘the landscape
in field space is reflected in a complicated terrain in real space’.74 While
these are technical physics terms with specific meanings, they can also be
taken to convey the sense in which string theory explores the diverse ways
in which the cosmos bears a likeness to the fullness of God. The many parts
 Aquinas on diversity 101
of creation—whether in the hills and valleys of our own planet or in com-
plicated manifestations in the space of string theory landscape—seek to
resemble the perfection of God through their diverse forms and movements.
Third, the ordered diversity in creation—akin to the symphony described
by Greene or the work of art described by Collins and Aquinas—represents
the intention and goodness of its cause. If creation amounts to a diverse
string landscape of vacua corresponding to different domains, this does not
suggest that it is unintelligible or contrary to any sense of divine purpose
or control. In fact, the notion of an ordered whole, consisting of many dis-
tinct but interconnected parts, is central to Aquinas’s participatory creation
account. The diversity of creation is intentional and is not merely indicative
of a brute multiplicity. Since it is caused by one simple and perfect effect,
or God, the diversity of creation should be seen in the context of unity and
order. Here it might be noted that string theory, despite its diversity, offers
a unifying framework in which to understand physical events and processes
in the universe, since strings leave traces of their patterns of vibration. The
task, as Greene observes, is for physicists to extract the information of a
structure that is already there, and whose many and diverse patterns might
be thought to more fully reflect the perfection of God.

3.3 Don Page on beauty

In this section, I will assess the Canadian theoretical physicist Don Page’s
support of a theistic account of the multiverse hypothesis, with a particu-
lar focus on his view that string theory represents a beautiful and elegant
account of cosmic diversity. Since his notions of God and creation are
broadly similar to Robin Collins, this will follow logically from, and in
many ways build on, the issues considered in the previous section, par-
ticularly in relation to string theory. Page, a quantum cosmologist, former
doctoral student of Stephen Hawking, and evangelical Christian, strongly
suspects that what we think of as the universe is in fact part of a larger
multiverse, whose different parts are governed by different laws of physics.
After considering Page’s notion of beauty in the context of multiverse the-
ory, I will then examine Aquinas’s metaphysical notion of beauty, which
is an important part of his participatory thought. I will propose that an
account of beauty and order informed by Thomistic participatory meta-
physics would strengthen Page’s own concepts of God and creation, while
also providing a rejoinder to criticisms of multiverse thought made on aes-
thetic grounds, which I will discuss in the last section.

3.3.1 Page on beauty and elegance in multiverse theories

Initially, Page identifies parallels between the theological response to
Darwinian evolution and initial theological appraisals of contemporary
multiverse theories. Just as some pre-Darwinian Christians assumed that
102 Aquinas on diversity
humans could be understood apart from the rest of creation as separately
and individually designed, he argues that it would be equally mistaken for
contemporary believers to interpret the fine-tuning of the laws of physics as
evidence of separate and individual design by God, and thereby as evidence
for God’s existence. Like Collins, Page prefers to view the multiverse not as
an alternative to God as an explanation of cosmic design, but as indicative
of ‘an even more grand design of the universe’.75 This is because the basic
physical laws and initial conditions responsible for a multiverse would have
to be ‘special’ to produce any life at all, and particularly the kind of intel-
ligent human life capable of observing and understanding its own cosmic
habitat.76 Page also echoes Collins’s claim that since God is infinitely cre-
ative, it follows that God’s creation would be ‘much larger than the single
visible part of the universe or multiverse that we can observe directly’.77
Like Bernard Carr’s notion of an ‘outward journey’ (from a geocen-
tric to heliocentric to galactocentric to multiverse view), Page regards
the multiverse hypothesis as a ‘natural extension of… accepting a real-
ity beyond one’s immediate conscious perception’.78 This openness to a
diversity of cosmic realms is consistent with his sympathy for the ‘many
worlds’ interpretation of quantum mechanics, in which all possible out-
comes of a quantum event give rise to new universes. After all, if we can
postulate conscious beings in other totally disconnected spacetimes such
as other branches of a quantum state, it is not a fundamentally different
step to begin to think about other beings in different parts of a multi-
verse with different physical constants. He suggests that we might even
imagine beings in ‘entirely different universes’ with no relation to ours,
not connected by any single underlying set of physical laws.79 While this
thought experiment might bring to mind Tegmark’s Level IV multiverse,
Page specifically dismisses this theory as ‘too general to be plausible’,
too chaotic, and unable to account for the order we observe in our own
universe.80
Since Level III multiverses (the many-worlds interpretation) do not nec-
essarily give rise to varying constants of physics and Level IV multiverses
are too general and chaotic, Page identifies the need for more ‘elegant’ mul-
tiverse theories that explain cosmic order and arise out of specific laws of
nature.81 He believes that God might prefer string/M-theory, a variant of
a Level II multiverse, which he sees as ‘an elegant physical theory… that
would lead to a multiverse that nevertheless has been created providentially
by God with the purpose of having life and us somewhere within it’.82
As discussed earlier, string theory implies an immense (though likely not
infinite) multiverse of around 10500 different vacua or sets of constants. In
Page’s estimation, this would be sufficient for the physical constants we
observe to occur somewhere, perhaps once per 10200 vacua or so.83 String
theory not only appears to strongly suggest a multiverse, but one that
includes the physical parameters that allow the kind of life that exists in
our part of the universe.84 In a somewhat anthropocentric move, he thinks
 Aquinas on diversity 103
that the beauty and elegance of the theory suggest a divine designer acting
with the deliberate intent to provide the conditions for human life.
With his support for a multiverse interpretation of string theory, Page
places a high priority on the elegance and beauty of such a model, by which
he means the elegance of the principles by which God would create a vast
multiverse and the apparently elegant structure of our own laws of nature.
In response to theological critics who fear that a multiverse would provide
an alternative to divine design of the physical constants, he insists that
God could have designed the whole multiverse, ‘choosing elegant laws of
nature by which to create the entire thing’.85 The enormous diversity of the
string landscape is not evidence of extravagance or wastefulness, but of
an infinitely creative and powerful God who may create many universes if
this is consistent with His nature and purposes. On Page’s account, God
might prefer elegance in the principles by which a vast multiverse is created,
rather than a paucity of universes, or a single universe. This emphasis on
‘economy of principles rather than economy of materials’86 fits with Collins’s
model of God as infinitely creative and powerful, and operating according
to an intentional plan, which is a promising model to begin to bring into
contact with multiverse thought. Yet, as with Collins’s tentative account of
cosmic diversity, Page only hints at the motive and purpose underlying mul-
tiverse creation, without developing a sustained or metaphysical account of
the principles according to which God might create a multiverse.

3.3.2 Aquinas on beauty

The beauty and elegance and coherence of the universe serve an important
role in Aquinas’s account of creation. His vision of a cosmos of ordered
beauty also follows directly from the discussion of cosmic diversity in the
previous section. As discussed, the diversity and multiplicity in created
things is an inherent and intentional characteristic of creation: it is only
through such diversity that creation might represent the fullness of God’s
being. In addition, God’s intellect, which understands many things, cannot
be adequately represented by only one thing, and so it expresses itself more
perfectly ‘if it produces many creatures of all grades than if it had produced
only one’.87 Collectively, all parts of this diverse creation are very good and
establish together a good order of the universe, ‘which is the ultimate and
noblest perfection in things’.88 So God’s perfectly unified and simple good-
ness may only be expressed in creation in a diverse manner. It is precisely
in this cosmic diversity, with its interconnected parts standing in their own
relation to God, that an ordered—and beautiful and elegant—whole might
be established.
Participation is central to Aquinas’s idea of creation as a diverse likeness
of God’s goodness and beauty. Without diversity in things, the ‘highest
beauty’ would be taken away from things, since things are beautiful to
the extent that they participate in and move closer to God.89 As Aquinas
104 Aquinas on diversity
explains (with not entirely unproblematic language of ‘distance’ from God
discussed in the previous section), the nearer things are to God, the more
they participate in God’s likeness, and vice versa. He argues that those
that are ‘nearest’ to God ‘most closely approach the likeness of God’ while
things that are more distant are not always moved in the same way.90
Having outlined this participatory structure of being, with a diversity of
things which differ in degrees of participation in God’s perfect beauty, he
observes that ‘beauty is evident in this order’.91
Of particular importance in helping to secure the beauty of order in cre-
ation, we might recall Aquinas’s notion of causal participation discussed
earlier in this chapter. It is not just that the eternal beauty of the First
Cause of creation might be apprehended at least partially in the beauty and
order of created effects. It is also that, while God can produce all natural
effects, it is not superfluous for some effects to be produced by certain other
causes. As a consequence of the fullness of God’s existence, His likeness is
communicated to things, ‘not only so that they might exist, but also that
they might be causes for other things… By this, in fact, the beauty of order
in created things is evident’.92 In this way, God enables created things to
attain the divine likeness in two ways, either through the First Cause, or
through secondary causes which participate in and communicate His like-
ness. This underlines the role of interrelation in a participatory account
of beauty. Things are beautiful not just by virtue of their participation in
God’s beauty, but also by their essential relation to one another, as common
participants in God’s beauty, who might communicate that beauty to one
another, and who collectively represent a beautiful, ordered whole.
In his Summa Theologiae, Aquinas defines three characteristics of
beauty.93 First, he specifies integrity or perfection. This relates to the simil-
itude of God’s unity and simplicity in the wholeness and completeness of
created things, which receives its highest expression in the Son, ‘who has
in Himself truly and perfectly the nature of the Father’. Second, he speci-
fies proportion or harmony. Although proportion was typically thought to
apply only to composite material things, and thus not spiritual or divine
beings, Aquinas shows how it might usefully be applied to God. Though
perfectly simple and unified, God is also triune, with a harmony or interre-
lation between the Three Persons of the Trinity. Thus, he notes that the Son
is the image of the Father.94
Third, and most significantly, Aquinas identifies brightness or clarity as
a condition of beauty. In an additional point whose metaphysical import
might not be clear to modern readers, he notes that beautiful things ‘have
a bright colour’.95 This brightness refers to the light that shines forth from
the beauty of God’s being, which is the most perfect and full mode of being
that may be contemplated. In this sense, God’s perfect existence, in which
all things participate in diverse and limited ways, shines forth with perfect
brightness and clarity throughout the cosmos. In God, this radiant beauty
is ‘the unlimited splendor of pure existence beyond all form, pure light
 Aquinas on diversity 105
too dazzling for us to contemplate directly’.96 With the previously consid-
ered notion of diminished participation in mind, we might think of God
as the full light of existence, while created things shine only to the limited
extent to which they participate in this fullness of brightness. To return
to another analogy discussed earlier, Aquinas explains that ‘whatever is
found in anything by participation, must be caused in it by that to which it
belongs essentially, as iron becomes ignited by fire’.97 In the same way, we
might consider that the light within us is caused by participation in God,
the fullness of light. The light within us is a reflected light from that which
is perfect light itself.

3.3.3 Multiverse applications

Having considered the participatory basis of Aquinas’s notions of beauty
and order in creation, we might now seek to enhance and extend Page’s
somewhat limited conception of God as the loving and purposeful creator
of the multiverse, which possibly takes the form of a string landscape with
enormous diversity. There are three ways in which Aquinas’s metaphysical
vision might enhance Page’s reflections on the cosmic diversity implied in
string theory.
First, Page depicts God as preferring string theory as a principle for the
creation of a vast multiverse, with the deliberate intention of giving rise
to life. As seen in this section and the previous section, Aquinas’s partic-
ipatory creation account holds that the diversity and order and beauty in
creation are fully under divine control, and indeed manifestations of God’s
own goodness and beauty. God’s intellect contains many things, such that
the fullness of His intellect can be represented only by way of many diverse
effects. God preconceives and causes each diverse part of creation, and
through His wisdom brings about its order and beauty. The diversity of
the cosmos, including the diversity implied in the string landscape, is fully
intended by its divine cause, as it proceeds from a common source and
is thereby inherently within the unity of an order. As such, Page’s model
of God as the intentional designer of a vast and diverse cosmos can be
deepened with reference to Thomistic participatory metaphysics. However,
Page’s conception of God as the designer of a diverse multiverse perhaps
neglects the more strongly providential account of God’s relationship with
creation found in Aquinas. It would be truer to a participatory reading of
Aquinas to view the diversity of string landscapes as following directly
from God’s donation of being, as opposed to Page’s account in which the
multiverse is seen more anthropocentrically as a sort of winning lottery
ticket (among very many issued by God) allowing human life to exist.
Second, Page is evidently impressed by the immense multiverse, or land-
scape, of different physical constants that apparently arise from string the-
ory. He repeatedly refers to the ‘elegance’ of the principles (that is, string
theory) by which God might create a vast multiverse. Here, we can apply
106 Aquinas on diversity
a participatory reading of Aquinas to supplement Page’s approach. While
Page focuses on the beauty of the mechanism, Aquinas is concerned with
the beauty of being itself. Thus, we might highlight Aquinas’s view that
being itself is not just diverse, but also beautiful, as it is conferred by the
goodness and beauty of God. The beauty of things in themselves is an
image, or a form of reflected beauty, of the fullness of God’s being, which
is perfectly bright or clear. God’s existence, in which all created things par-
ticipate in diverse ways and at different ontological ‘distances’, shines forth
throughout creation, and could therefore also be said to shine forth in the
dazzling multitude of vacua that give rise to many universes with different
constants, of the kind suggested by string theory. These universes might be
radically different, but they share a common origin and owe whatever light
or harmony or completeness they have to the fullness of light in which they
participate.
Third, Page’s idea of the beauty and elegance of string theory, deep-
ened by Aquinas’s account of beauty in creation, might provide a useful
rejoinder to criticisms of multiverse theory made on the basis of aesthet-
ics. For example, Keith Ward (focusing primarily on Tegmark’s Level
IV multiverse) thinks that the extravagance of the multiverse hypoth-
esis ‘does not have much to offer in the way of economy, simplicity, or
plausibility’.98 He views God as the ‘simpler and more rational hypoth-
esis’ compared to what he sees as the arbitrariness and profligacy of the
multiverse.99 Likewise, Rodney Holder maintains that the multiverse is
‘distinctly non-simple and uneconomical in comparison with theism’.100
He also argues that, given a large enough number of potential universes,
it seems highly likely that a significant proportion will, in his view, be
empty, wasteful, and aesthetically unappealing.101 He analogises those
who defend multiverses on aesthetic grounds with those who are untrou-
bled by the apparently excessive waste, death, and destruction inher-
ent in biological evolution that are sometimes explained away as ‘God’s
mechanism for producing intelligent life’.102
In response, we might note that such critical perspectives assume that
the vast diversity of creation (such as that implied in string landscape) is
an aberration—an unintended, ugly, and inexplicable by-product of the
generation of many different cosmic realms. In fact, Aquinas reminds
us that it is metaphysically impossible for one single creature or part or
thing to represent the full beauty and goodness of God. While God’s
being is simple and one and perfectly beautiful, it is received in creation
in many diverse and varied ways. As such, God’s beauty is expressed in
creation in a diverse manner, and perhaps this will be further illustrated
in the context of a tremendous diversity of cosmic realms. This partic-
ipatory view of creation need not entail waste, or a lack of beauty or
meaning or order, but rather an intentional distribution of God’s light
that shines forth among the many interrelated parts of a fundamentally
elegant and ordered whole.
 Aquinas on diversity 107
3.4 Bernard Carr on unity
In this final part of the chapter’s theological investigation, I will critically
evaluate the multiverse thought of Bernard Carr, professor of mathematics
and astronomy at Queen Mary University of London, a former doctoral
student and colleague of Stephen Hawking, and one of the leading multi-
verse advocates in contemporary cosmology. Specifically, I will provide a
Thomistic participatory response to his image of the cosmic uroborus, in
which he associates the historic trajectory of scientific progress towards a
progressively more expansive cosmos (perhaps culminating in the multi-
verse hypothesis) with the apparent unity and interconnectedness of the
cosmos. In contrast to many of his multiverse cosmologist colleagues, Carr
allows for the significance of human consciousness and acknowledges the
theological import of multiverse theories. However, I will argue that he
offers a narrow, self-contained vision of immanence and a metaphysically
limited conception of unity, each of which detract from his project of artic-
ulating a fundamental account of the multiverse hypothesis. I will propose
that the circular imagery of Carr’s uroborus calls to mind (but is less met-
aphysically meaningful than) Aquinas’s theological circle of being, which
describes the journey to a transcendent source of being. In this vision, the
connection of the cosmos to God is expressed in a circular movement of
creatures who have received being from God and ultimately return to God,
who stands as both source and final end. I will conclude that this circular
movement suggests that the purpose of the multiverse can be seen in terms
of gift, giving unity and meaning to the cosmos in a way that eludes strictly
cosmological accounts such as Carr’s.

3.4.1 Carr on the cosmic uroborus

Carr situates recent developments in cosmology and particle physics that
point to the plausibility of the multiverse hypothesis within the ‘tide of
history’ of scientific progress.103 He observes that, throughout the history
of Western science, our understanding of the size, scope, and nature of the
universe has progressively shifted, as scientific progress has extended out-
wards to ever larger cosmic scales and inwards to ever smaller atomic and
subatomic scales. In a provocative claim to which he gives expression in
his image of the uroborus, this ‘triumph’ of scientific progress on both the
outer and inner fronts is said to have ‘revealed a unity about the universe
which makes it clear that everything is connected in a way which would
have seemed inconceivable a few decades ago’.104 He further contends that
the multiverse proposal is ‘just the culmination’ of scientific attempts to
understand the physics of the largest and smallest scales.105
In terms of what he refers to as the ‘outward journey’, Carr describes the
gradual shift from the geocentric view of early humans, to the heliocentric
view suggested in the sixteenth century by Copernicus (and anticipated
108 Aquinas on diversity
by Nicholas of Cusa), to the galactocentric view occasioned by Galileo’s
telescopic observations, to the cosmocentric view of the early twentieth
century, establishing the ‘Big Bang’ picture in which the universe began in a
state of great compression approximately 14 billion years ago and has since
been rapidly expanding, with other galaxies moving further away from us.
More recently, Carr believes that we have moved to the multiverse view, in
which studies of background radiation have strengthened the case for infla-
tion, which suggests that our cosmic domain is one part of a much larger
multiverse, and provides the basis for the most basic multiverse models,
such as Tegmark’s Level I model of an infinite space, as well as the post-
inflation bubbles of Level II.
In terms of the ‘inward journey’, he describes changes of perspective
brought about by atomic theory in the eighteenth century, subatomic the-
ory in the early twentieth century, and quantum theory shortly thereafter.
In his view, this journey has revealed that everything in the cosmos com-
prises a few fundamental particles interacting through four forces (gravity,
electromagnetism, the weak force, and the strong force), some or all of
whose interactions might ultimately be unified, perhaps with string theory
or M-theory, as discussed earlier. Just as he contends that the history of
cosmology has been a sequence of expanding our conception of the cos-
mos, he defines the history of physics as a sequence by which physics has
attempted to unify the four known forces of nature.106
Together, the outward and inward journeys in science have disclosed
what Carr believes to be a cosmic unity in which microphysical and mac-
rophysical domains are inextricably connected. To illustrate this unity,
as well as the evolution of our understanding of this structure, he uses
the image of the uroborus, an ancient Greek symbol of a snake eating its
own tail.107 To the extent that this complex and in many ways confus-
ing image reflects Carr’s views, it is worth highlighting three important
points.
First, it represents a closed, internal, self-sufficient circle of reality, with-
out any reference to a transcendent source or meaning. Inside of the snake
in Carr’s image, there are various objects that represent different types of
structure in the universe, moving from objects at the micro level (such as
atoms and quarks) to successively larger objects at the macro level (such as
stars, galaxies, and the universe itself). The image also depicts connections
between the different microphysical and macrophysical structures. For
example, there is an electric line connecting an atom to a planet because the
structure of solid object is determined by atomic forces, which are electrical
in origin. As a result of these different kinds of structural relations, Carr
envisions a cosmos of unity and interconnectedness, though it should be
said that this account is metaphysically modest in comparison with other
scientific models of interconnectivity.108 Given his evident interest in theol-
ogy and metaphysics, it is surprising that he gives priority to an image of
relatively modest theological or metaphysical import.
 Aquinas on diversity 109
Second, the main focus at the top of the image, with the head of the
snake eating its own tail, is intended to convey the notion that the uni-
verse was originally compressed to a point of infinite density, such that even
the expansive universe (or multiverse) of modern cosmology comes forth
from its exponentially smaller origin.109 In Carr’s version of the uroborus,
the top of the image links both inward and outward journeys to ‘higher
dimensions’, since string theory on the microscopic side implies the exist-
ence of many additional ‘compactified’ dimensions, while some versions
of M-theory on the macroscopic side suggest that ‘the universe could be a
4-dimensional “brane” in a higher-dimensional “bulk”’.110 Here it seems
that Carr makes a rather nebulous and swift transition from the closed
circle of the uroborus to the potential existence of higher dimensions, par-
ticularly in light of the fact that there are significant multiverse models that
do not include such extra dimensions. Although the uroborus is meant to
be a succinct encapsulation of the apparent unity and interconnectedness
of the cosmos, some of its most striking aspects (such as Carr’s references
to multiverses and M-theory) merit further explanation.
Third, Carr’s image offers a historical narrative that neatly conveys his
belief in the continuous growth of scientific knowledge and human under-
standing. In addition to symbolising the different yet fundamentally related
levels of structure in the cosmos, his image of the uroborus reflects the
historical development of human knowledge at the micro and macro levels.
According to the way his image is presented, the snake contains a time-
line in which primitive humans were aware of a fairly limited range of
basic structures such as animals and mountains, while eighteenth century
humans had a broader conception ranging from bacteria to the solar sys-
tem, and then twentieth century humans developed an even wider under-
standing of reality at the atomic and cosmic levels. Since the image shows
the systematic expansion of progressively greater levels of awareness, Carr
regards it as a symbol of the ‘blossoming’ of human consciousness.111
With his idea of the cosmic uroborus, Carr provides an entirely closed
and cosmological model of the interconnectedness of the largest and small-
est levels of reality. Unlike many multiverse proponents who associate
our progressively expanding notion of the cosmos with a correspondingly
diminished status for humanity, he believes that the human mind—and the
story of its continual blossoming in the course of evolution—is fundamen-
tal to the cosmos, whose unity and beauty points to some form of guiding
intelligence. While he acknowledges that the existence of a multiverse (the
latest scientific paradigm shift which may represent the apex of the out-
ward journey) would have ‘obvious religious implications’, his volume is
largely restricted to ‘the materialistic issues which are the focus of cosmol-
ogy’.112 As such, it would be worthwhile to provide a theological response
to his image of the cosmic uroborus and his promising, yet metaphysically
limited, ideas of cosmic unity and interconnectedness within the context of
multiverse thought, which will be the focus of the next section.
110 Aquinas on diversity
3.4.2 Aquinas on the circle of being
Carr’s cosmic uroborus, in contrast to its historic use as a symbol of eter-
nal return, is a strictly physical and temporal model of internal unity and
interconnectedness. It does not make reference to a transcendent source or
meaning, as is the case with Aquinas’s metaphysically richer circle of being.
To provide a more fundamental basis for the idea of cosmic unity, we might
consider Aquinas’s participatory creation account, which employs the con-
cept of circularity in such a way as to ground the unity and meaning of the
cosmos in relation to its transcendent source. In this model, God as origin
and end is connected to creation by a circular movement whereby creatures
produced by Him ultimately return to Him. Aquinas describes this motion
in distinctively participatory terms, such that a creature seeking to bear a
true likeness to its source is moved to return to God in its own way to attain
its own perfection:

An effect is most perfect when it returns to its source; thus, the circle is
the most perfect of all figures, and circular motion the most perfect of
all motions, because in their case a return is made to the starting point.
It is therefore necessary that creatures return to their principle in order
that the universe of creatures may attain its ultimate perfection. Now,
each and every creature returns to its source so far as it bears a likeness
to its source, according to its being and its nature, wherein it enjoys a
certain perfection.113

Whereas Carr’s model is an immanent story of cosmic production,

whereby the vastness of creation comes forth from a point of infinite den-
sity, Aquinas’s circle connects the production of creation to its transcendent
source, in which it participates and to which it is ordered to return: ‘God
acts for an end inasmuch as He produces an effect so that it may partici-
pate in His end’.114 God intends to produce His likeness and goodness in
creation, which thereby reflects the ‘way in which the transcendent is man-
ifested by that which is transcended’.115 This reference to a transcendent
source, whose likeness is mediated in the participatory movements of cre-
ated beings who long to return to their origin, is absent from Carr’s entirely
cosmological and self-contained uroborus.
Here, it would be worthwhile to consider the two components of
Aquinas’s circle of being: the journey outward from God and the return,
which joins an act of creation to one of ethics and redemption. Early on in
the Summa Theologiae, Aquinas encapsulates this circle of being with his
designation of God as ‘the beginning and end’ of all things.116 In fact, the
structure of the work itself reflects the circular movement in which all crea-
tures return to their origin.117 Since the goal of sacred doctrine is to convey
knowledge of God as the beginning and end of all things, God is considered
first (Prima Pars), then man’s movement towards God (Secunda Pars), and
 Aquinas on diversity 111
finally Christ, whose incarnation leads us to God (Tertia Pars). Aquinas
structures his work according to this circle of being because it constitutes
the basic metaphysical structure of the universe whose unity is expressed in
the procession and return of created beings to the fullness of being itself.118
Just as Carr’s uroborus encompasses outward and inward journeys, so
we might divide Aquinas’s circle of being into two parts.119 As noted above,
in the first part of the Summa he is concerned with discussing the charac-
teristics of God (simplicity, goodness, perfection, infinity, and so on) and
the nature of the Trinity. He then turns to the nature of creation, which
he defines as ‘the emanation of all being from the universal cause, which
is God’.120 Following Clarke, we might regard this emanation as the ‘jour-
ney of the many (all finite beings), projected outward from the One, their
Infinite Source, by creation’.121 In the context of this dynamic sense of cre-
ation, finite beings receive being from God and come into being as diverse
participants in the fullness of God’s being. This is the ‘outward’ journey by
which all beings share in God’s being and thus share something in common
with each other, producing a unity and interconnectedness throughout
creation.122
In the second and third parts of the Summa, we find what might be
thought of as the return movement of creatures towards God, which is
clearly distinct from and provides a more metaphysical foundation to
Carr’s idiosyncratic (and non-theological) uroborus. Here, each diverse
participant of creation is drawn towards its own good, which is implicitly
a search for God, who is the source of all goodness. As an effect produced
by the First Cause, each participant desires to know something of its cause,
and perfect happiness may only be achieved through the intellect reaching
the ‘very essence’ of the First Cause, and ‘thus it will have its perfection
through union with God as with that object, in which alone man’s happi-
ness consists’.123 With this journey back to God, the principle of being by
which the ‘ultimate perfection’ of rational creatures can be found,124 God
can be viewed as ‘both the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the
End, at once the Source and the Goal of the restless dynamism of all of
nature, of all finite beings’.125 In the third part, Aquinas explains that the
circular movement is only completed through Christ, ‘the perfect Mediator
of God and men, inasmuch as, by His death, He reconciled the human race
to God’.126
Having described Aquinas’s circular movement of emanation and return
to God, we might now reflect on how it improves upon and adds meta-
physical depth to Carr’s account in two important ways, one related to
the special status of humans and the other to the role of science. In terms
of the first point, Aquinas’s account provides a metaphysical basis for the
special status of humanity in the cosmos. Contrary to multiverse theorists
who believe that a (perhaps infinitely) more expansive cosmos provides
conclusive evidence of the insignificance of humanity, Carr insists on the
connection between the evolution of mind and the expansion of our cosmic
112 Aquinas on diversity
horizon. Yet while he believes that scientific activity has expanded the ‘mac-
roscopic frontier’ as far as possible, his cosmological account necessarily
precludes any consideration of whether humans might come to know not
just the size and scope of the cosmos, but also its ultimate source and end.
On this point, Aquinas agrees with Carr on the centrality of humans, but
argues that we play a unique role by virtue of our participatory relationship
with God. As rational creatures, we attain our last end by knowing and
loving God, but this is not possible for other creatures. Only humans can
freely and consciously choose to love and achieve direct union with God,
thereby returning to the fullness of being from which they originated: ‘such
a return to God cannot be made except by the act of the intellect and will,
because God Himself has no other operation in His own regard than these.
The greatest perfection of the universe therefore demanded the existence of
some intellectual creatures’.127
For Aquinas, though, non-human creatures may also be returned to God
as a consequence of the ‘marvelous connection of things’, a cosmic inter-
connectivity grounded in a transcendent source and therefore distinct from
Carr’s closed circle of being.128 On Aquinas’s account, humans are micro-
cosms, in which the highest and lowest levels of creation are united. Since
we contain within us what Carr would call microscopic and macroscopic
aspects of creation (such that we are related, for example, to both atoms
and planets), we can (so to speak) bring the physical cosmos with us on our
journey back to God. We may ‘touch’ and share in lower levels of being and
thereby help such non-human beings to complete their own journeys home:
‘Hence, in order that the imitation of God, in this mode of containing,
might not be lacking to creatures, intellectual creatures were made which
contain corporeal creatures’.129 This Thomistic notion of humans as micro-
cosms of creation places additional emphasis on Carr’s account of our cos-
mic significance. It is not just that we can use our intellect to investigate the
cosmos; as mediators between God and the cosmos, we can ensure that the
cosmos completes its circular movement of being and returns to its source.
Second, in terms of the role of science, Aquinas’s circle of being with
humans as mediators between the diversity of the physical cosmos and the
simplicity of God gives new meaning to the importance of scientific pro-
gress, which Carr details in his ‘outward journey’ from early geocentric
assumptions to modern multiverse models, but does not ground in any
transcendent source. Science might be thought of as a systematic way of
taking up the cosmos into our consciousness. By examining the origin and
nature of the universe (or multiverse) in which we participate and which
emanates from God, we are also coming to know God: ‘Hence, from reflec-
tion upon God’s works we are able to infer His wisdom, since, by a certain
communication of His likeness, it is spread abroad in the things He has
made’.130 In this sense, the cosmic uroborus (or circle of being) represents
not just (as Carr avers) the blossoming of human consciousness as we attain
ever greater knowledge of the physical cosmos, but the union of human
 Aquinas on diversity 113
consciousness with its divine origin and end: ‘If [consideration of God’s
creation is] so alluring to the minds of men, the fountainhead of God’s own
goodness, compared with the rivulets of goodness found in creatures, will
draw the enkindled minds of men wholly to Itself’.131
This kind of participatory perspective applied to Carr’s uroborus thereby
deepens the value of our scientific search for (and place in) the multiverse,
which is properly seen as a freely given gift from God. Such a model more
powerfully conveys the unity and purpose of a cosmos with a transcend-
ent creator than Carr’s strictly cosmological vision. While Carr stands
out among scientific multiverse theorists in terms of acknowledging the
importance of humanity in the cosmos and arguing for the compatibility of
God and the multiverse, his approach is at once theologically tentative and
conceptually ambiguous. With closer attention to Aquinas’s participatory
creation account, his notions of cosmic unity and interconnectedness can
rest on firmer metaphysical foundations.

3.5 Summary
In this chapter, I considered how Aquinas’s metaphysical participation
might illuminate the idea of cosmic diversity that is paramount in multi-
verse thought. According to Aquinas, creation is marked by riotous diver-
sity because this is the only way in which created beings can participate in
and bear witness to the fullness of God’s perfect unity and simplicity. The
key point of this chapter is that such a participatory outlook is not only
consistent with the kind of vast cosmic diversity described in multiverse
theory, but that it metaphysically accounts for the intelligibility and beauty
of this diversity. To illustrate this insight, I evaluated the work of two theo-
logically minded scientists and one philosopher of religion who is receptive
to the multiverse proposal, and in each instance I highlighted ways in which
Thomistic participation might enrich their treatments of cosmic diversity.
I began with Robin Collins, who is an important thinker working at the
intersection of theology and scientific multiverse theory. Although he is
mindful of the importance of diversity in Thomistic metaphysics, he does
not bring this perspective in a focused way to the specific question of the
multiverse hypothesis. In light of this, I explained that diversity is funda-
mental to Aquinas’s creation account, since it reflects the only way in which
diverse beings can approach the perfectly simple God. I proceeded to apply
his participatory metaphysics to the string theory landscape proposal in
which the notion of vast cosmic diversity is paramount. In this way, I illus-
trated that string theory can be seen as an example of a multiverse model
that gives powerful scientific expression to Aquinas’s insistence on cosmic
diversity and intelligibility.
I then turned to Don Page’s theistic account of the multiverse proposal,
which shares with Collins an interest in string theory as an elegant model,
as well as an insufficiently metaphysical approach to this sense of beauty
114 Aquinas on diversity
and elegance. I argued that Aquinas’s metaphysical notion of beauty would
strengthen Page’s somewhat limited account of God’s creative activity. For
Aquinas, beauty is evident in the participatory scheme of creation, with
diverse beings participating in God’s own beauty and goodness in their
own distinctive ways. I suggested that Aquinas’s participatory account of
the beauty of the cosmos might supplement Page’s more narrow conception
of the beauty of the selection mechanism that gives rise to a diversity of
cosmic realms in string theory.
Finally, I critiqued Bernard Carr’s image of the cosmic uroborus on the
basis that it is theologically deficient and conceptually confusing. As an
alternative and richer metaphysical model, I offered Aquinas’s theological
circle of being, which expresses the coming forth and return of creatures to
God. This circular image more adequately conveys the unity and purpose
of a cosmos grounded in a transcendent creator than Carr’s narrow and
self-referential cosmological vision. I argued that we can do more justice to
his emphasis on cosmic unity and interconnectedness, as well as the special
status of human consciousness, with closer attention to Aquinas’s depic-
tion of a diverse cosmos that owes its existence to and is ordered towards a
transcendent source.
In addition to raising the prospect of astonishing multiplicity and diver-
sity as integral to the created order, the multiverse hypothesis naturally
lends itself to contemplation of cosmic infinity. According to NASA, the
idea that our own universe is infinite in size remains an open question,132
while the possibility of infinitely many universes beyond our own has been
highly controversial since the emergence of multiverse theory as a serious
scientific hypothesis in recent years. Although the coherence of infinity as
a mathematic or scientific concept is often disputed, it is central to many
multiverse models, including Tegmark’s hierarchy introduced in Chapter 1
and discussed in relation to Plato in Chapter 2. Tegmark’s Level I multi-
verse might be thought of as an infinite bubble, while he describes the Level
II multiverse as an infinite set of Level I bubbles. Just as the idea of cosmic
infinity is contentious in modern multiverse debates, it has often been a
theological point of dispute in relation to God’s infinity. There are few
thinkers in the Western tradition who have explored the interplay between
cosmic infinity and divine infinity as memorably, enigmatically, and dis-
tinctively as Nicholas of Cusa, the late medieval Christian philosopher and
astronomer. It is to his participatory metaphysical thought and its relevance
to multiverse theory that this theological investigation turns in the follow-
ing chapter.

Notes
1 For this reason, Sherman distinguishes between the ‘formal turn’ in Platonic
participation (which is concerned with what a being is) and the ‘existential
turn’ in Thomistic participation (which is concerned with why a being is).
 Aquinas on diversity 115
See Sherman, ‘A Genealogy of Participation’, pp. 82–92. Similarly, Clarke
refers to the passage in understanding ‘from the fact of existence to the act of
existence’. W. Norris Clarke, The One and The Many, p. 80.
2 Clarke, The One and The Many, p. 318.
3 Aquinas inherits (and amends) the essence-existence distinction from the elev-
enth century Islamic philosopher Avicenna. For an account of Avicenna as a
source for Aquinas’s metaphysics, see John F. Wippel, Metaphysical Themes
in Thomas Aquinas II (Washington DC: Catholic University of America
Press, 2007), pp. 31–64.
4 ST I.2.2.
5 ST I.3.4.
6 For an extended version of Aquinas’s argument that ‘in God being and essence
are the same’, see SCG I.22.
7 ST I.3.4.
8 SCG II.18.2.
9 While its composition may have been as late as 1271–72, it is often situ-
ated relatively early in Aquinas’s career, in the late 1250s. Rudi Te Velde,
who dates the commentary in the period of 1256–59, notes that it is
‘chronologically the first text in which “participation” becomes a distinct
theme of reflection’. Rudi Te Velde, Participation and Substantiality in
Thomas Aquinas (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1995), p. 8.
10 Boethius, De Hebdomadibus, 62. In Theological Tractates and the Conso-
lation of Philosophy, trans. H. F Stewart, Edward Kennard Rand and S. J.
Tester (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2014).
11 Boethius, De Hebdomadibus, 79.
12 Boethius, De Hebdomadibus, 124.
13 Aquinas, An Exposition of the On the Hebdomads of Boethius, trans. Janice
L. Schultz (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2001),
2.71.
14 Aquinas, On the Hebdomads of Boethius, 2.72–73.
15 Aquinas, On the Hebdomads of Boethius, 2.75.
16 Aquinas, On the Hebdomads of Boethius, 2.78–80.
17 Boethius, De Hebdomadibus, 101–105.
18 ‘And because good is convertible with being, as one is also; [Plato] called God
the absolute good, from whom all things are called good by way of participa-
tion’. ST I.6.4.
19 Aquinas, On the Hebdomads of Boethius, 2.85.
20 ST I.104.1.
21 Joseph W. Koterski, ‘The doctrine of participation in Thomistic metaphysics’,
in Joseph W. Koterski (ed.), Future of Thomism (Mishawaka, IN: American
Maritain Association, 1992), p. 192. He sees Aquinas’s sense of causal par-
ticipation as leaving ‘no trace… of a “form divided among different subjects”
as for Plato’.
22 Wippel dates its composition to 1259–1264/65, which is in line with the gen-
eral scholarly consensus.
23 SCG I.29.2.
24 SCG I.29.2. The notion of a cause producing a similar effect is also made in
Book Two: ‘For every agent that produces an effect in participation of its own
form intends to produce its own likeness in that effect. Thus, to produce the
creature in participation of His own goodness was becoming to God’s will,
for by its likeness to Him the creature might show forth His goodness’. SCG
II.35.8.
25 SCG I.29.2.
116 Aquinas on diversity
26 SCG I.29.5.
27 SCG I.29.5.
28 Te Velde observes that this might suggest that creation could be regarded as
‘ontological fall’. This term is problematic, though, since it suggests some-
thing negative or unintended about the multiplicity of creation. Te Velde pre-
fers to interpret Aquinas’s idea of diminished participation in positive terms,
such that creation can be seen as like ‘an outpouring of the infinite goodness
of God into a multitude of various things each reflecting God’s simple and
perfect goodness in its own way’. Te Velde, Participation and Substantiality
in Thomas Aquinas, p. 101.
29 SCG I.32.2.
30 SCG I.32.3.
31 SCG I.32.6.
32 Indeed, Aquinas suggests that creation might not just bear a likeness to God
in many ways, but in infinite ways: ‘Since the divine goodness is infinite,
it can be participated in infinite ways’. SCG I.81.4.
33 ST I.3.4.
34 ST I.11.3.
35 ST I.11.3.
36 ST I.44.1.
37 This principle is also expressed in Book Two of the SCG in which Aquinas
argues that God is to all things the cause of being: ‘Everything which is in any
way at all must then derive its being from that whose being has no cause. But
we have already shown that God is this being whose existence has no cause.
Everything which is in any mode whatever, therefore, is from Him’. SCG
II.15.2.
38 For example, Koterski understands Thomistic participation as expressing
‘the non-identity of that which is with its being’. Koterski, ‘The doctrine of
participation in Thomistic metaphysics’, p. 193.
39 Aquinas, De Spritiualibus Creaturis, trans. Mary C. FitzPatrick (Milwaukee,
WI: Marquette University Press, 1949), p. 23.
40 De Spritiualibus Creaturis, p. 23.
41 De Substantiis Separatis, trans. Francis J. Lescoe (West Hartford, CT: Saint
Joseph College, 1959), VIII.42.
42 De Substantiis Separatis, VIII.43.
43 De Substantiis Separatis, VIII.45.
44 Robin Collins, ‘Multiverse hypothesis: a theistic perspective’, in Bernard
Carr (ed.), Universe or Multiverse? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2007), p. 460. Collins’s model of God is indicative of the analytic preoccupa-
tion with technical definitions and attributes, which tend to offer a somewhat
constricted and sterile vision of God, a sort of God of the philosophers. As
will be argued here, Collins’s reduction of God to a minimal philosophical
hypothesis also implies a more limited view of the God-creation relationship,
as compared with Aquinas’s doctrine of creation, which entails a participa-
tory cosmos of inherent diversity and dynamism.
45 Collins, ‘Multiverse hypothesis: a theistic perspective’, p. 460.
46 Collins, ‘Multiverse hypothesis: a theistic perspective’, p. 461. Cusa’s partici-
patory metaphysics is the subject of Chapter 4.
47 Collins, ‘Multiverse hypothesis: a theistic perspective’, p. 461. This is simi-
lar to Carr’s ‘outward journey’ thesis, in which science progressively reveals
new levels of cosmic structure, expanding our view of the size and scope of
reality (see Chapter 3.4). Tegmark holds a similarly optimistic view of the
likely future direction of cosmology, raising profound questions about how
 Aquinas on diversity 117
scientific knowledge progresses or the extent to which it might be said to have
a certain momentum. On this subject, see Thomas Kuhn’s landmark case that
scientific progress is marked by revolutionary paradigm shifts rather than a
gradual, cumulative development of facts and theories. Thomas S. Kuhn, The
Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press,
1996).
48 Collins, p. 460. Here we might note Collins’s unorthodox approach to the
doctrine of creation ex nihilo. The doctrine is essential to preserving the dis-
tinction between God and creation, and the total dependency of the latter on
the former. It implies that God is the absolute source of all that is not God,
and that all of creation would be nothing without God. For Aquinas, creation
only exists by participation in God. It is therefore problematic for Collins
to, as it were, subcontract the act of creation to a multiverse generator rather
than view it in terms of God’s loving donation of existence from nothing.
For a stimulating overview of God, participation, and creation ex nihilo, see
Simon Oliver, Creation: A Guide for the Perplexed, pp. 35–60.
49 Collins, ‘Multiverse hypothesis: a theistic perspective’, pp. 461–2.
50 ‘All natural things were produced by the Divine art, and so may be called
God’s works of art’. ST I.91.3.
51 Collins, ‘Multiverse hypothesis: a theistic perspective’, p. 476.
52 Robin Collins, ‘Extraterrestrial intelligence and the incarnation’, in
Klaas J. Kraay (ed.), God and the Multiverse (New York, NY: Routledge,
2015), p. 211.
53 Collins, ‘Extraterrestrial intelligence and the incarnation’, p. 212.
54 Collins, ‘Extraterrestrial intelligence and the incarnation’, p. 215. Like
other philosophers influenced by the analytical tradition, Collins employs
Bayesian probability as a quantitative method for assessing the likelihood
of a hypothesis, given specific conditions. In my view, the use of mathemat-
ical models to reach theological conclusions confuses different categories
of thought. Collins’s approach seeks to introduce mathematical precision
into a realm that is inherently beyond such quantification. Perhaps the
most significant instance of this kind of category error is Richard Swin-
burne’s application of Bayes’s theorem to calculate the probability of God’s
existence. See Richard Swinburne, The Existence of God (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2004).
55 ST I.47.1. In the (unspecified) translation to which Collins refers on p. 211, the
universe ‘shares and expresses’ (rather than participates) the divine goodness.
56 W. Norris Clarke suggests a helpful analogy to represent the diverse way in
which participants share in God’s being. Just as a great mathematician can
share his wisdom with students, each of whom receive it in their own limited
ways, so God shares the fullness of His being, which is ‘diversely received
according to the distinct capacities of the receivers’. Clarke, The One and the
Many, p. 87.
57 To claim that things are distinguished from God in diverse ways might imply
that they are located at different distances to God. Although such language of
ontological distance is evident in Aquinas’s work, it might be taken to mean
that there is some kind of gap between God and creation such that they rep-
resent two equivalent points on a plane, which would not adequately reflect
creaturely dependence on and participation in God. Since everything that
exists is either God or creation, E. L. Mascall dismisses the image of a gulf
to be bridged as ‘thoroughly incoherent’. E. L. Mascall, Via Media (London:
Longmans, Green and Co, 1956), p. 55.
58 ST I.6.4.
118 Aquinas on diversity
59 However, to speak of participants sharing diversely in God’s being is not to
suggest that they are ‘parts’ of God. As the source and fullness of being, God
is not ‘divided’ up among creatures in the manner that we might divide a
building into different rooms. Rather, God may be said to share the fullness
of his own perfect being with other beings according to their own limited
essences.
60 Te Velde, Participation and Substantiality in Thomas Aquinas, p. 97.
61 ST I.3.3.
62 In addition, this participatory insight can serve as a counterweight to mul-
tiverse critics who dismiss the idea of an immensely diverse and expansive
cosmos as too arbitrary or inexplicable. For example, Keith Ward refers to
the proposed existence of a huge number of cosmic realms ‘all of which exist
for no particular reason’. Keith Ward, The Big Questions in Science and
Religion, p. 235.
63 ST I.65.3.
64 Collins, ‘Multiverse hypothesis: a theistic perspective’, p. 462.
65 While increasingly the subject of mainstream scientific study, string theory
remains contentious, particularly in light of its description of such a large
number of universes. In Not Even Wrong—whose title is a withering assess-
ment of science that is apparently not just mistaken, but fundamentally mis-
conceived—Columbia mathematician Peter Woit rejects string theory as a
basis for models of particle physics precisely because of the vast cosmic diver-
sity to which it gives rise. In fact, he dismisses the theory as anti-scientific
since he does not believe that it predicts anything and is thereby not open to
falsifiability. See Peter Woit, Not Even Wrong: The Failure of String Theory
and the Search for Unity in Physical Law (New York, NY: Basic Books,
2006).
66 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 99.
67 Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, p. 107.
68 Susskind, ‘The anthropic landscape of string theory’, p. 248.
69 Susskind, ‘The anthropic landscape of string theory’, p. 263.
70 Susskind, ‘The anthropic landscape of string theory’, p. 262.
71 Susskind, ‘The anthropic landscape of string theory’, pp. 262–3.
72 Brian Greene, The Elegant Universe (London: Vintage, 2000), p. 146.
73 In addition, it is interesting to note that Greene’s description of string theory
hints at metaphysical and participatory themes. He adds that each elementary
particle comprises a string whose vibrational pattern is its ‘fingerprint’. See
Greene, p. 146. Of course, the notions of patterning, imprinting, and tracing
are vital to a participatory scheme in which parts of the cosmos bear witness
to and express divine plenitude through their diverse motions. In Greene’s
view, to understand and explain the connections between these ‘fingerprints’
would provide the promise of a TOE, which would itself be profound confir-
mation of the unity and interrelation of the cosmos.
74 Susskind, ‘The anthropic landscape of string theory’, p. 249.
75 Don Page, ‘Does God So Love the Multiverse?’, p. 6.
76 Page, ‘Does God So Love the Multiverse?’, p. 7.
77 Page, ‘Does God So Love the Multiverse?’, p. 7. Here we might caution that,
while our observable universe might not encompass all that exists, this does
not necessarily imply the existence of a multiverse, or an infinite universe.
78 Page, ‘Does God So Love the Multiverse?’, p. 19. As with Carr, Tegmark,
and other multiverse proponents, the persuasiveness of such expectations will
depend on one’s view of the nature of scientific progress.
79 Page, ‘Does God So Love the Multiverse?’, p. 19.
 Aquinas on diversity 119
80 Page, ‘Does God So Love the Multiverse?’, p. 9.
81 Page, ‘Does God So Love the Multiverse?’, p. 9.
82 Don Page, ‘Predictions and tests of multiverse theories’, in Bernard Carr (ed.),
Universe or Multiverse? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007),
p. 412.
83 Page, ‘Does God So Love the Multiverse?’, p. 10.
84 However, Page acknowledges that it is not yet certain whether a multiverse
is a clear consequence of string/M theory: ‘One first needs to make string/M
theory into a precise theory and calculate its consequences, whether single
universe or multiverse’, p. 20. Elsewhere, he argues that multiverse theo-
ries may give testable predictions for observable elements if they include a
well-defined measure for observations. Page, ‘Predictions and tests of multi-
verse theories’, p. 428.
85 Page, ‘Does God So Love the Multiverse?’, p. 21.
86 Page, ‘Does God So Love the Multiverse?’, p. 20.
87 SCG II.45.7.
88 SCG II.45.10.
89 SCG III.71.3.
90 SCG III.72.4.
91 SCG III.72.4.
92 SCG III.70.7. Although Aquinas generally relates this principle to the mani-
festation of God’s goodness, it is equally true that he holds beauty to be one
such manifestation of divine goodness.
93 ST I.39.8.
94 On this point, Rubenstein argues that Aquinas’s thought is more compati-
ble with the multiverse hypothesis than is often assumed due to his view of
God as ‘three-in-one, an eternal interrelation of identity and difference… If
the number of creation really mirrors the number of God, then wouldn’t an
entangled multiplicity of worlds reflect God’s many-oneness more fully than
a single world would?’ Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, pp. 73–4. While
this focus on what God’s Trinitarian nature suggests about the multiplicity
of creation represents a promising point of contact with multiverse thought,
Rubenstein does not examine the metaphysical basis of Aquinas’s view of
creation as diverse participations in the fullness of God’s being.
95 ST I.39.8.
96 Clarke, The One and the Many, p. 300.
97 ST I.44.1.
98 Ward, The Big Questions in Science and Religion, p. 233.
99 Ward, The Big Questions in Science and Religion, p. 235.
100 Rodney Holder, God, the Multiverse, and Everything, p. 126.
101 As Tegmark notes, such criticisms are ultimately aesthetic rather than scien-
tific. On the point of wastefulness, he notes that this can be turned around
since the most basic Level I multiverse already contains an infinite amount
of space, mass, and atoms, such that it is difficult to object to ‘waste’ in the
conventional sense. Tegmark, ‘The multiverse hierarchy’, pp. 122–3.
102 Holder, God, the Multiverse, and Everything, p. 102.
103 Bernard Carr, ‘Introduction and overview’, in Bernard Carr (ed.), Universe
or Multiverse? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), p. 10.
Although he attributes resistance to this view to ‘more conservative cos-
mologists’, it should be noted that many physicists remain deeply uncom-
fortable with multiverse thought as indicative of scientific progress, as
detailed in Chapter 1.
104 Carr, ‘Introduction and overview’, p. 11.
120 Aquinas on diversity
105 Carr, ‘Introduction and overview’, p. 7. Here we might note that the lan-
guage of ‘culmination’ does not sit easily with his view of the constantly
evolving nature of science, with progressively shifting theories and no settled
end-point.
106 Carr, ‘Introduction and overview’, pp. 10–11.
107 Given the Greek origins of this image, as well as the discussion of Plato in
Chapter 2, we might note that in the Timaeus the universe is described in
uroborus-like terms as a living animal, a self-sufficient perfect whole of
perfect parts, revolving in a circular movement. Timaeus 32d–34a.
108 For example, quantum entanglement suggests that all of physical reality is
interconnected at the subatomic level, with groups of particles interacting
such that the quantum state of each particle cannot be understood inde-
pendently of the others. Ernest L. Simmons has recently argued that entan-
glement provides a framework for his view that panentheism models God’s
relationship with creation. See Ernest L. Simmons, The Entangled Trinity:
Quantum Physics and Theology (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2014).
For further discussion of cosmic interconnectivity, see John Polkinghorne
(ed.), The Trinity and an Entangled World: Relationality in Physical Science
and Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2010).
109 However, William R. Stoeger reminds us that our laws of physics break down
at this initial singularity, such that ‘it does not represent what really occurred,
and is not the beginning of the universe’. New developments in quantum cos-
mology will be needed to develop a coherent theory of the early universe. See
William R. Stoeger, ‘God, physics and the Big Bang’, in Peter Harrison (ed.),
The Cambridge Companion to Science and Religion (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2010), pp. 175–6.
110 Carr, ‘Introduction and overview’, p. 13.
111 Carr, ‘Introduction and overview’, p. 13. This is consistent with his view
that the human mind is fundamental to the cosmos, and that physics must
be able to account for consciousness. Elsewhere he has argued that the four-
dimensional brane embedded in a higher dimensional bulk (mentioned ear-
lier) could be the location of certain psychic phenomena. See Bernard Carr,
‘Mind and the cosmos’, in David Lorimer (ed.), Science, Consciousness and
Ultimate Reality (Exeter: Imprint Academic, 2004), pp. 33–64.
112 Carr, ‘Introduction and overview’, p. 16.
113 SCG II.46.2.
114 SCG II.35.7.
115 SCG II.35.8.
116 ST I.1.7.
117 On this point, Te Velde has criticised the idea that the structure of the Summa
reflects the dual scheme of procession and return, since it cannot explain why
the consideration of Christ requires a separate third part. See Rudi Te Velde,
Aquinas on God: The ‘Divine Science’ of the Summa Theologiae (New York,
NY: Routledge, 2006), pp. 11–18.
118 For a concise examination of the structure of the Summa Theologiae, see
Jean-Pierre Torrell, Aquinas’s Summa: Background, Structure, and Recep-
tion (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2005).
119 Although it is important to note that Carr discusses two journeys within
creation, while Aquinas attends to the twofold journey of creation, outward
from God and back again towards reunion with God.
120 ST I.45.1. Elsewhere, Aquinas refers to this emanation, or coming forth of
being, as ‘the influx of being’. De Substantiis Separatis, IX.50.
121 Clarke, The One and the Many, p. 303.
 Aquinas on diversity 121
122 Clarke associates this turn towards unity with the term ‘universe’, yet we
have seen earlier in this chapter that the diversity of creation, sharing in the
common source of divine being, might be of greater salience within the con-
text of a multiverse.
123 ST II.3.8.
124 ST I.12.1.
125 Clarke, The One and the Many, p. 304. In a similar way, Jean-Pierre Torrell
focuses briefly on the idea of God as ‘Alpha and Omega’ within his broader
discussion of Aquinas on God and creation. See Jean-Pierre Torrell, Saint
Thomas Aquinas, Volume 2: Spiritual Master (Washington, DC: Catholic
University of America Press, 2003), pp. 53–8.
126 ST III.26.1.
127 SCG II.46.3.
128 SCG II.68.6.
129 SCG II.46.7.
130 SCG II.2.2.
131 SCG II.2.4.
132 NASA, ‘How Big Is Our Universe?’ https://www.nasa.gov/audience/foreducators/
5-8/features/F_How_Big_is_Our_Universe.html (accessed February 15, 2021).
4 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity

In this chapter, I will explore the notion of cosmic infinity in relation to the
participatory metaphysical thought of the late medieval Christian astrono-
mer-philosopher Nicholas of Cusa. Since the invocation of infinity is such
a crucial part of both Cusa’s theology and the conceptual framework of a
considerable proportion of multiverse theory, he represents a compelling
figure with which to conclude the theological investigation undertaken in
this book. Given Cusa’s emphasis on exploring the relationship between
what he understands to be God’s infinity and the universe’s infinity, his
work has understandably been the subject of renewed interest within the
context of reflections on the multiverse hypothesis within the theology and
science dialogue. In spite of this focus on the cosmology and theology of
Cusa, his unique participatory insights have not meaningfully featured in
any of these interdisciplinary assessments.1 The focus of this chapter will
be to bring Cusa’s participatory metaphysics and its ongoing relevance into
clear view for the first time in a theological assessment of multiverse theory.
In line with the approach of the previous two chapters, initially I will offer
a general overview of Cusa’s understanding and description of metaphysi-
cal participation, with particular reference to the development of his partic-
ipatory thought in his most consequential work, De Docta Ignorantia. This
survey will illuminate the ways in which, for Cusa, participation occupies
a fundamental role in bridging the gap between finite creaturely beings and
the infinity of God. In the remainder of the chapter, I will draw on Cusa’s
participatory insights to engage theologically with three relevant contempo-
rary thinkers in the theology and science dialogue, who have offered what
might be thought of as scientific, philosophical, and historical perspectives
on Cusa’s entanglement of cosmic and divine infinity. First, I will respond
to Rodney Holder’s critique of the notion of cosmic infinity, which he devel-
ops with reference to Cusa. I will argue that Holder neglects the participa-
tory character of Cusa’s metaphysical system, in which the universe is an
image whose infinity is of an imitative nature. This approach can help to
provide valuable metaphysical resources to respond to some of Holder’s
misgivings about multiverse theory. Second, I will provide a theological
critique of Catherine Keller’s postmodern reading of Cusa, which—as with

DOI: 10.4324/9781003014553-4
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 123
Rubenstein’s similar approach—overlooks the core participatory insights
of his work. Finally, I will evaluate David Albertson’s historical study of
Cusa’s mathematical theology, consider its strengths and weaknesses, and
demonstrate its relevance to Tegmark’s controversial expression of mathe-
matical multiverse thought.

4.1 Cusa on participation

In this section, I will examine Cusa’s participatory metaphysics, with par-
ticular reference to the articulation of the concept in his most significant
and influential work, De Docta Ignorantia. For Cusa, participation is the
solution to one of the most fundamental theological dilemmas: the question
of how to relate the finitude of creation with the infinity of its creator—put
simply, of how to bridge the immeasurable gulf between the finite and the
infinite. As discussed earlier, Plato proposes that the finite realm of becoming
participates in the eternal realm of the Forms. On this account, participa-
tion means understanding the things we experience as images, or copies, of
perfect (and unseen) ideas. Cusa’s metaphysical speculation focuses on the
relationship between God’s infinity and the cosmos of finite things, with par-
ticipation functioning as the category of relation between God and creation.
He believes that the infinity of the cosmos stands as an image of God’s infin-
ity. In participatory terms, God’s infinity is the archetype, which remains
hidden and radically distant even when its presence infuses the created world
by virtue of the fact that it is being copied. Cusa’s distinction between the
infinity of the cosmos and God’s infinity is significant and, at times, puz-
zling, and its implications will be explored throughout this chapter.

4.1.1 De Docta Ignorantia

Completed in early 1440, Cusa’s De Docta Ignorantia offers a systematic
yet idiosyncratic synthesis of theological, philosophical, cosmological, and
mathematical speculation. The threefold structure of the work (with Book
One on God, Book Two on the universe, and Book Three on Christ) reflects
the unfolding of creation from God and its ultimate return to God. For Cusa,
God is the Absolute Maximum, the universe is a contracted (restricted) max-
imum, or created image of God, and Christ unites the two as at once divine
and human, or absolute and contracted. As Absolute Maximum, God is
perfectly simple and infinite, transcending all human understanding. In De
Docta Ignorantia, Cusa identifies participation as the way to bridge the gap
between the infinite simplicity of God and the vast diversity of creation.

4.1.1.1 Book One

In Book One, Cusa uses the hypothetical mathematical concept of an
infinite line to introduce the idea of God, including participation of finite
124 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
beings in the infinite God.2 Through a series of ‘speculative’ mathematical
considerations, he argues that an infinite line is the essence of a finite line,
as well as the measure of all finite lines that participate in it in different
ways. He then suggests that these considerations about the infinite line can
be ‘applied symbolically’ to what he refers to as the Maximum, or God.3 He
identifies three participatory insights about the God-creation relationship
that may be illustrated by reflection on the infinite line. First, just as the
infinite line is the essence of all lines, so the infinite essence of God is the
essence of all finite essences. Second, just as every ‘part’ of an infinite line is
the infinite line, so in God everything is God. Third, just as the infinite line
is the measure of all lines, so God is the measure of all things. For purposes
of clarification, it would be useful to discuss each of these points in turn.
In terms of the first point—that God is the essence of all essences—it is
striking that Cusa variously refers to God as ‘the Essence of all essences’,4
‘the Essence of all things’, 5 ‘the Being of all being’,6 ‘the Being of things’,7
and ‘the Form of being’.8 With these designations, Cusa seeks neither to
deny the finite essences of things nor to conflate them with God’s own
essence.9 Rather, he believes that all finite beings are ultimately depend-
ent on God for their being. While finite things have their own form and
being, only God—as the Being of all being—has perfect being that is not
derived from or dependent on any other being. To depict God as the Being
of all being is not to deny the distinction between God and creation, but to
express the absolute dependence of all finite being on its infinite source to
which it owes its existence and without which it would not exist.10
To illustrate this point, Cusa draws on the symbolism of the infinite line
to express creaturely participation in God. As noted above, he explains
that there is only one essence of all lines, which is participated in in dif-
ferent ways. In a similar way, all finite beings participate in different ways
in Being, which is God. In light of this, he offers the following argument
based on the somewhat abstruse (and thus characteristically Cusan) notion
of the removal and negation of participation:

If from all beings participation is removed, there remains most simple

Being itself, which is the Essence (essentia) of all things. And we see
such Being only in most learned ignorance; for when I remove from my
mind all the things which participate in Being, it seems that nothing
remains.11

This argument should be seen not so much as a problematic reduction of

finite being to God’s being, but merely as a participatory restatement of the
dependence of the finite multiplicity of creation on its absolute and undi-
vided source. To remove creaturely participation in Being is to remove the
existence of all finite things that participate in Being. This leaves only God
as Being itself, which is not being (in the finite sense), but the underived
and undifferentiated Being of all beings. Since this perfect Being cannot be
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 125
expressed in positive terms, Cusa (echoing Dionysius) concludes that our
‘understanding of God draws near to nothing rather than to something’.12
Ironically, although the argument is advanced in obscure and negative
terms, it amounts to an extremely powerful affirmation of the centrality of
participation. To remove participation is to remove creation itself, leaving
only God.13
In Cusa’s second participatory insight, he claims that just as every ‘part’
of an infinite line is the infinite line, so in God everything is God. In God,
all things of ‘past, present, and future’ are ‘ever and eternally’ God in such
a way that God is ‘all of them together and none of them in particular’.14
Again, this is not to suggest that God is all things, but that in God all things
are God. The word ‘in’ signifies participation, and not conflation or direct
identification. Cusa, who develops this further in his theology of creation
in Book Two (to be discussed below), describes this as the ‘enfolding’ of
all things in God. He refers to God as ‘the enfolding of all things’.15 In His
simplicity, God ‘enfolds the totality of all things’16 and His ‘infinite fore-
sight enfolds not only the things which will occur but also the things which
will not occur but can occur’.17 In this way, all things are ‘enfolded’ in God,
and the act of creation involves the ‘unfolding’ of all things from God. In
terms of causation, we might say that the effect is enfolded in the cause,
rather than thinking of effect and cause as synonymous. Yet Cusa insists
that the ‘infinite Oneness’ in which all things are ‘incompositely enfolded
in simplicity’ remains beyond human understanding.18
Cusa’s third participatory application of his mathematical considerations
is that just as the infinite line is the measure of all lines, so God is the meas-
ure of all things. Again, he illustrates this point with the symbolism of the
infinite line, whereby a finite straight line is said to participate in it more
simply and immediately than a curved line, whose participation would be
more ‘mediate and remote’.19 By analogous reasoning, he notes that sub-
stances participate more immediately in God than accidents, which par-
ticipate ‘not through themselves but through the medium of substances’. 20
Just as an infinite line is the measure of a straight line and of a curved line,
so God is the measure of all things, which participate in Him in different
ways. To claim that finite things participate in God is to suggest not only
that they owe their existence to God, but also that they are excellent to the
extent that they participate in God. Similarly, an accident depends on the
substance in which it participates and is said to be more excellent the more
it participates in the substance.
Overall, Cusa’s approach in Book One is to use mathematical illus-
trations and imagery to convey the participatory notions that God is the
essence of all things, that all things exist in God, and that God is the meas-
ure of all things. In his metaphysical system, all finite things participate in
God, to whom they owe their existence and who sustains them within the
created order. As the measure of all things, God has carefully ordered all
finite things in the cosmos to participate in Him in various ways, which He
126 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
alone knows precisely and immediately, and by which each thing achieves
its degree of perfection.

4.1.1.2 Book Two

Having considered the maximum absolutum (God) in Book One, Cusa
turns to the maximum contractum (the universe) in Book Two. He begins
with additional participatory insights into the nature of creation (or created
being), which derives from and participates in God ‘in a way that is not
understandable’. 21 This finite being, which participates in God’s being, is
not understandable because ultimately God’s being is not understandable
to the human intellect, a point Cusa illustrates with the analogy that the
being of an accident is not understandable if the substance in which it par-
ticipates is not understood. Without understanding the absolute necessity
from which it derives, it seems that creation is somewhere in between God
and nothing; that is, it seems neither to be (since it descends from Being),
nor not to be (otherwise it would be nothing), nor to be a composite of
being and nothing. God’s being is not understandable and so neither is
creation, whose mysterious nature can be summarised in similarly contra-
dictory terms: ‘it cannot be called one, because it descends from Oneness,
nor can it be called many, since its being derives from the One; nor can it be
called both one and many conjunctively’. 22 Cusa’s task is to clarify how we
might understand that God is the Form of being and yet not ‘mingled’ with
creation. 23 He restates this familiar metaphysical dilemma of the one and
the many in participatory terms by asking how it is possible for ‘the one,
infinite Form’ to be ‘participated in in different ways by different created
things’. 24
Cusa proposes that creation is a ‘reflection’ or an ‘image’ of God.25 This
might call to mind the image of a face in a mirror, though Cusa means to
suggest not a reflection ‘received positively in some other thing but a reflec-
tion which is contingently different’. 26 On this view, the reflection of God
is distinct from God, just as the image of the face in the mirror is not itself
the reality of the face. To stress this distinction, he invokes the relationship
between a craftsman and his artefact. The artefact depends entirely upon
the craftsman’s idea for its existence and does not therefore have any being
other than dependent being. Unlike the analogy of the face in the mirror,
which might suggest that creation is a mirror image of God, the craftsman
example underlines that creation is distinct from God and more properly
seen as a work of God, as a product of divine craftsmanship. This product
might help us to understand God, but our understanding will fall radically
short of the absolute perfection of God, from which the product is derived
and in which it participates.
Moreover, participation describes not only the relationship between God
and creation, but the way in which creation receives its goodness and per-
fection from God. In a crucial passage, Cusa explains that all things can
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 127
be images of the ‘one, infinite Form’ and exist differently in our contingent
realm because ‘the Infinite Form is received only finitely, so that every cre-
ated thing is, as it were, a finite infinity or a created god, so that it exists
in the way in which this can best occur’.27 To claim that each being is a
‘created god’ is to underline that God imparts being and perfection to all
things in a manner in which as much being and perfection could be received.
In this way, all things are ‘something as much like God as possible’, 28 and
as perfect as they could possibly be, even if less perfect in comparison to
some other created thing that might exist according to a different degree of
participation. Thus, God’s being is received and participated in such a way
that it cannot be received otherwise by the recipient, who finds satisfaction
in its own perfection as a ‘divine gift from the Maximum’. 29
On Cusa’s participatory account, created being is perfect in its own terms,
and God is of course absolutely perfect, and the two realms thereby share
a kind of perfection in common, though not as a matter of equal resem-
blance (as in the mirror analogy), but with creation as an image or partic-
ipant in the divine being from which it descends and on which it is utterly
dependent. This depiction of the manner in which finite beings receive the
Infinite Form (which, in spite of his thoughtful speculation, he concedes is
fundamentally mysterious) is particularly rich with participatory language
of imparting and reception, as well as the idea that participation is a gift,
freely and graciously given ‘without difference and envy’ by a loving God.30
As a consequence of this gift, in which God imparts as much being and per-
fection as possible, each being is something like a ‘created god’, yet always
distinct from God’s perfection.31
With this participatory foundation of creation established, Cusa intro-
duces his concept of enfolding and unfolding, which expresses the fun-
damental metaphysical point that creation is not identical with God, but
represents an image of, or participation in, God. The infinite God is present
in the finite universe and at the same time wholly distinct. In spite of this
gulf, Cusa conceives the relationship between God and creation as a rela-
tionship between enfolding (complicatio) and unfolding (explicatio). The
infinite God is the enfolding of all things, while the world is unfolding:
‘God is the enfolding of all things in that all things are in Him; and He
is the unfolding of all things in that He is in all things’.32 Our contingent
realm gives expression in multiplicity to what is enfolded in perfect unity
and simplicity in God. Indeed, earlier in Book One he describes God as
enfolding all things in His simplicity and oneness, 33 as well as all things
which will occur and which could occur.34
In Book Two, Cusa offers several analogies from our finite world to
illustrate the notions of enfolding and unfolding: oneness enfolds number,
rest enfolds motion, the present enfolds time, identity enfolds difference,
equality enfolds inequality, and simplicity enfolds divisions. 35 By analogy,
God as infinite oneness enfolds all things and contradictions: he enfolds
the totality of creation within his simplicity and perfection. From this
128 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
perspective—and as described earlier in Cusa’s second participatory point
in Book One—all things exist in God as God, without divisions or distinc-
tions: ‘If you consider a thing as it is in God, it is God and Oneness’.36 As
enfolded in God, things exist as God in the most perfect way, and not as the
finite beings of (unfolded) creation: ‘in the Maximum they are most truly
the Maximum, though not in accordance with their finitude; rather, they
are Maximum Oneness in an enfolded way’.37
In addition to enfolding, Cusa suggests that we can view created being
as unfolded from God. From this perspective, things exist as distinct from
God in their own finite ways as part of our contingent and sensible order.
Rather than existing in God as God, they exist as themselves in God.
Though they remain in some sense in God as unfolded beings, they are
distinct from God and exist in God only by virtue of creaturely participa-
tion. At the same time, God remains present in unfolded creation, since
this creation continues to receive its being from its infinite source. God
is the unfolding of all things and the world is unfolded from God with-
out being God. Again, Cusa uses the language of negation and removal
to express the dependence of the unfolded world on God: ‘If you consider
things in their independence from God, they are nothing… For take away
God from the creation and nothing remains’.38 While Cusa maintains that
we cannot truly understand how God is unfolded through the multiplicity
of creation, he returns to the analogy of creation as image and suggests that
‘insofar as He is the unfolding, in all things He is that which they are, just
as in an image the reality itself (veritas) is present’.39 As different images
might relate to an original, God’s ‘face’ appears ‘differently and manifoldly’
throughout creation in the diverse participations of finite beings. This face
gives creation its existence and identity, while ‘remaining incomprehensibly
above all the senses and every mind’.40
As such, creation is an image (or the ‘face’) of God, but not a true image
in the sense that, while it might be indicative of God, it does not resemble
or reflect the reality of God. It is only a ‘contracted Maximum’, a finite
or ‘concrete’ realm that owes its existence to the Absolute Maximum,
to which it bears a likeness and imitates as much as it can.41 Just as the
Absolute Maximum, is—in Cusa’s provocative language—that which all
things are, so the universe, as contracted maximum, is contractedly that
which all things are. Contraction signifies restriction, such that the charac-
teristics of the contracted universe fall disproportionately short of the cor-
responding absolute qualities in God. Thus, oneness is contracted through
plurality, infinity through finitude, simplicity through composition, and so
on.42 From this notion of contraction, Cusa infers that God is the ‘Absolute
Quiddity’ (or absolute essence) of the universe, existing in it in such a way
that He is in all particulars because He is ‘present absolutely in that which
is contractedly all things’.43 In other words, God is the ultimate essence in
which all things are enfolded, so that (for example) Absolute Oneness is
free of all plurality in God. To name God as Absolute Quiddity is another
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 129
way to express the absolute dependence of creation on God, since each part
of creation owes its existence to God.44 As an example of this idea of con-
traction, oneness is given its own contracted status in creation as number.
To illustrate the idea of God as Absolute Quiddity, Cusa uses the exam-
ple of the sun and the moon. God is not present in them in the ordinary
sense of the term, but He is ‘absolutely’ that which they are: He imparts
being to the sun and the moon, without which they would not exist. While
each part of creation receives being from the Absolute Quiddity of God,
it also exists in its own unique way within the contracted quiddity of the
universe. Whereas God’s being is absolute and undifferentiated and thus
not identical with any finite being, the universe, as contracted being, exists
in plurality and difference: ‘Therefore, God, who is one, is in the one uni-
verse. But the universe is contractedly in all things’.45 This contracted being,
which constitutes the diversity and multiplicity of creation, participates in
the absolute being of God. With this participatory framework in mind,
Cusa suggests that we can begin to understand how, through the mediation
of the universe, God is in all things and all things are in God.
Whereas Cusa’s outlook in Book One and Book Two is, respectively,
mathematical and metaphysical, Book Three represents a mystical turn
towards Christ as the Maximum at once absolute and contracted (maxi-
mum simul contractum et absolutum). The mathematical and metaphysical
disquisitions of the preceding books help prepare the mind for its ascent to
faith in Christ. In this sense, Book Three prefigures the more devotional
tone of his subsequent work, particularly De Visione Dei, to be discussed
below. Yet there remains a participatory basis to this joyful ascent. Cusa
argues that no finite thing can ‘participate precisely’ in the ‘degree of con-
traction’ of another thing. This means that any given thing is compara-
tively greater or lesser than anything else: ‘Therefore, all contracted things
exist between a maximum and a minimum, so that there can be posited a
greater and a lesser degree of contraction than [that of] any given thing’.46
Since finite things cannot become infinite or maximum in the unqualified
sense, there must be an Absolute Maximum beyond all comparative rela-
tion and within which all finite possibilities are contained, which is God.
Further, there must be a way the Absolute Maximum can unite itself to the
contracted maximum, and this is achieved through Jesus, who is God and
man, as the ‘contracted maximum individual’.47

4.1.2 De Sapientia
De Sapientia, composed in 1450, reiterates Cusa’s insight that knowledge
is found in recognition of our ignorance. While this work is of a more
epistemological nature than De Docta Ignorantia, it also further devel-
ops his participatory metaphysics, with an emphasis on the paradox that
participation is at once integral and inadequate to the task of approaching
God. As detailed in De Docta Ignorantia and reaffirmed in De Sapientia,
130 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
a contracted universe of diversity and multiplicity is the best expression of
God’s absolute oneness, which is given finite expression among a variety of
participants. However, as Cusa explains in this text, creaturely participa-
tion represents a limited way of reaching God, who remains fundamentally
transcendent and beyond creaturely understanding.
With characteristically participatory language, Cusa argues in Book One
that the infinite wisdom of God is in all forms, like ‘the truth in the image,
the example in the thing exemplified, the form in the figure, the precision in
the assimilation’.48 God, in His infinite goodness, communicates being to
all things, which is received in many different ways since ‘non-multiplica-
ble infinity is better explicated in a variety of recipients’.49 This means that
the reception of God’s being in diverse ways among diverse recipients is the
best possible one, though it cannot be received exactly as it is. Instead, every
finite thing partakes in divine being and wisdom insofar as it can. Here,
Cusa describes a hierarchy of participation, according to which participants
receive wisdom in a progressively more meaningful way, ascending from
mineral being, to vegetable life, to higher sensible life, to imaginative power,
to rational power, and finally to intellectual life, the latter of which is nearest
the image of wisdom. In spite of the elevated status of intellectual life in terms
of partaking in divine wisdom, Cusa cautions that this wisdom is ultimately
not to be found in oratory or great books, ‘but in a withdrawal from these
sensible things and in a turning to the most simple and infinite forms’.50
In Book Two, Cusa associates the limited way in which we participate in
God with his theology of negation. This is based on the idea that God alone
represents ‘precision’ and that our knowledge of God is imprecise because
only God is precision itself. Thus, he suggests that any answer to a question
about God cannot be precise, since ‘precision is nothing other than what
is one and infinite and this applies to God alone’.51 Every answer partici-
pates in ‘the absolute answer which is infinitely precise’, but precision about
divine being can only be reached in a limited fashion because it can only
be participated in a limited fashion.52 As our participation in God deepens
or improves (perhaps according to the hierarchy mentioned above), so our
comprehension of God improves, though it remains partial and incomplete.
As a consequence of the various ways of participating in God, all of which
nevertheless fall short of fully approaching God’s perfect truth, it is more
prudent to restrict ourselves to negative statements and ‘in that way we are
not led to a knowledge of what God is, but what He is not’.53
Later in this Book, Cusa returns to two important participatory analo-
gies introduced in De Docta Ignorantia. First, he compares the image and
its original to creation and God. All images of a face are precise, right, and
true only to the extent that they ‘partake of and imitate’ the living image of
the original face. God, as absolute Exemplar, is similarly imitated by preci-
sion, rightness truth, justice, and goodness, but contains all such imitative
things in a much more perfect way than the original face contains elements
of its own image.54 Second, he revisits the symbol of the infinite line as the
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 131
most precise exemplar of all geometric figures. Just as a finite straight line
participates in an infinite line, so an individual person might be thought
of as straightness, truth, measure, and perfection existing in a ‘contracted’
and limited way, who might turn his attention to, and participate in, abso-
lute straightness and truth: ‘Thus infinite truth is the precision of finite
truth, and, being absolutely infinite, is also the precision, measure, truth,
and perfection of everything that is finite’.55

4.1.3 De Visione Dei

Completed in late 1453 at the request of the monks of the Benedictine abbey
at Tegernsee, De Visione Dei offers ‘an easy path unto mystical theology’
wherein we might ‘partake’ in everlasting bliss according to the measure
granted us by God.56 As with Cusa’s earlier works, this text describes the
participatory structure of reality and the ascent into the divine darkness
of learned ignorance, beyond which lies the absolute infinity of God. In
this instance, though, his primary concern (in line with his move in Book
Three of De Docta Ignorantia) is to bypass philosophical considerations
of the paradoxes of learned ignorance to the practical matter of partaking
in Christ, who is the final and entirely perfect image of God. The mys-
tery of divine presence is not to be illuminated in abstract metaphysical
concepts, but in recognition of the likeness of Jesus to the divine nature,
whose presence is therefore more immediate and accessible than might be
expected. While many of Cusa’s recurring participatory ideas, including
the vital enfolding/unfolding concept, are present in De Visione Dei, it is a
more personal, devotional, and mystical text, directed to participation in
the final perfection of the image of God.
In De Visione Dei, the act of seeing—both God’s seeing of creation and
our seeing of God—is accorded profound metaphysical significance. Cusa
begins with reference to ‘the icon of God’, which is a picture ‘setting forth
the figure of an omnivoyant’ and by which he proposes to uplift the recip-
ient by a devotional exercise to mystical theology. 57 He goes on to declare
that we exist by virtue of God’s sight. This is described in participatory
language, as God’s glance is associated with supreme goodness that ‘cannot
fail to communicate itself to all able to receive it’.58 Without God’s glance,
which is His being, we would not be able to receive being and we would
therefore not exist: ‘since Thy look is Thy being, I am because Thou dost
look at me, and if Thou didst turn Thy glance from me I should cease to
be’.59 From our perspective, if we do not ‘see’ God, we would not receive
God’s being, since our very being is God’ seeing.60 God communicates
being to all able to receive it, and we exist to the extent that we are able
to participate in it. This capacity for reception and participation, which
should be cultivated whenever possible, is none other than ‘likeness’.61 We
will be able to approach the goodness of God according to our degree of
participation in God’s likeness.
132 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
On this point, Cusa insists that any creaturely attempt to set forth a
likeness of God would be inadequate. Any such likeness or resemblance or
concept would not exceed the ‘wall of Paradise’ beyond which the infinite
mystery of God exists. This wall, to which Cusa refers throughout De
Visione Dei, separates God from all that can be possibly said or thought
about the ‘Absolute Ground’. Since God cannot be attained or compre-
hended or named or directly beheld, anyone wishing to approach God must
ascend above every limit and end and finite thing, and thereby into a realm
that is ‘undefined and confused’.62 Here, our intellect may only operate
according to ‘ignorance and obscurity’, a kind of instructed or learned
ignorance that is ultimately the only way to approach the infinite God.63
Given the inadequacy of human models of the divine, Cusa concludes
the text with the claim that Jesus is ‘the most approximate image’ of God,
as well as the greatest possible union of the divine nature and the human
nature.64 In Jesus, human intelligence is united with divine intelligence,
just as a most perfect image is indicative of the truth of its pattern. Cusa
claims that humans only understand things by a likeness, even to the extent
that we only understand a stone as an idea or a likeness, and not as in its
proper cause or nature.65 In this way, the appeal to Jesus as the most perfect
likeness of God, as the finite image of the absolute idea of all things, also
serves to highlight the importance of participation not just as the ground
of being and existence, but also of knowledge. We comprehend by partici-
patory concepts, which might help us to move closer to the infinite God in
whose being we participate in our own limited ways.

4.1.4 Summary
In the Christian participatory tradition, Cusa stands as offering a series
of novel metaphors, models, and modes of understanding for the relation-
ship between the infinity of God and the finitude of God’s creation. In his
metaphysical vision, participation governs the relationship between God
and creation, while also expressing the utter dependence of finite beings
on God’s perfect and infinite being. As Cusa explains, all finite things par-
ticipate in God, to whom they owe their existence and who sustains them
at every moment within the cosmos. In Aquinas’s formulation, God exists
essentially in himself, whereas creation exists by participation. With his
metaphor of enfolding and unfolding, Cusa develops this participatory con-
cept in new and speculative directions, as he argues that the infinite God
is the enfolding of all things in that all things are in Him, while the world
is the unfolding of all things in that all things exist only to the extent that
they bear traces of, or participate in, God. Though rooted in Neoplatonic
concepts of participation, Cusa’s originality lies in his imaginative imagery
and use of metaphor, which illustrate the asymmetry between God and
creation. Having reviewed Cusa’s depiction of cosmic infinity and divine
infinity within the framework of his deeply mystical and metaphysical
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 133
cosmology, the remainder of this chapter will be given over to a theological
exploration of the ways in which Cusa’s participatory vision might bear
upon, and offer unexpected insight into, three very different accounts of his
connection to multiverse theory from scientific, theological, and historical
perspectives.

4.2 Rodney Holder on infinity

In this section, I will examine the British cosmologist-theologian Rodney
Holder’s critique of multiverse thought. In particular, I will focus on his
view of infinity in Cusa’s cosmology, which he presents as a noteworthy
historical precursor to contemporary multiverse models. Holder’s reading
of Cusan infinity is worth examining because it is indicative of a wider
set of misapprehensions in contemporary theological treatments of Cusa’s
relevance to multiverse thought. This is particularly evident in Holder’s
understanding of Cusan infinity, which fails to attend closely to Cusa’s
participatory metaphysics and instead tends towards univocity; that is, he
directly conflates Cusa’s notion of divine infinity with cosmic infinity. This
conflation, among other considerations, leads him to conceive of multiverse
thought in terms of actual infinities, the paradoxes of which he believes
undermine the plausibility of multiverse models. Yet Cusa offers a more
complex (and, as a consequence of his mystical approach, in some ways
confounding) metaphysical vision of contracted infinity in which the uni-
verse is understood to be an unbounded copy of God’s infinity. Cusa’s
mysticism calls for an orientation towards infinity, with the recognition
that the universe is potentially infinite, as opposed to Holder’s emphasis
on actual infinities (though even actual cosmic infinities would not be the
same as God’s infinite simplicity). I will propose that this participatory
reading of Cusan cosmology provides the resources to negotiate Holder’s
conceptual problems with multiverse thought.

4.2.1 Holder on multiverse and infinities

Holder is a prominent theological critic of the multiverse hypothesis, which
he sees as the only viable alternative to divine design, yet significantly less
plausible by comparison. His critical examination of the multiverse hypoth-
esis, God, the Multiverse, and Everything, represents one of the most con-
structive and systematic theological engagements with multiverse thought
in recent years. In general, he believes that multiverse hypothesis is fraught
with scientific and philosophical problems, including lack of testability
and observability, lack of simplicity, the lack of order and predictability
inherent in many multiverse models, the lack of an explanation for the
apparent fine-tuning of the generating principle in question (such as infla-
tion), the possibility of the prevalence of fake universes (as in universes that
contain computer simulations of other universes), and the way in which
134 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
multiverses provide a ‘catch-all’ type of explanation that could discourage
scientific enquiry.66
In his critiques of the multiverse proposal, Holder pays significant atten-
tion to the paradoxes of infinity. As part of this, he repeatedly cites Nicholas
of Cusa as an example of an important figure in Christian theology who
welcomes the notion of cosmic infinity. Given that medieval thinkers are
often neglected in the contemporary theology and science dialogue, this
reappraisal of Cusan cosmology is apposite, particularly in light of its res-
onance with themes in multiverse thought. However, Holder’s assessment
of Cusa’s role in the development of multiverse thought is mistaken in both
historical and philosophical terms. In terms of history, he incorrectly alleges
that Cusa’s view of the infinite universe anticipates Giordano Bruno’s and,
in terms of philosophy, he offers a reading that is insufficiently attentive
to Cusa’s participatory metaphysics, and conflates the distinct notions
of divine and cosmic infinity. While this section will focus primarily on
Holder, this twofold misreading of Cusa is persistent in theological recep-
tions of the multiverse proposal, and I will consider other representative
examples. I will go on to argue that highlighting the importance of Cusa’s
participatory metaphysics will provide a corrective to these misapprehen-
sions and address many of the points of contention raised by Holder and
other multiverse critics.
In the contemporary theology and science dialogue, the Cusan interplay
between divine and cosmic infinity is often highlighted by theologians who
wish to suggest that Christian theology could be said to have anticipated
and perhaps influenced the gradual scientific turn to thinking in terms of
many worlds or universes, or at least of a radically expanded view of the
cosmos. For example, Holder follows Robin Collins (the philosopher dis-
cussed in Chapter 3.2) in conflating Cusa’s view of the infinite universe with
Bruno’s subsequent thinking.67 Likewise, the German theologian Dietrich
Bonhoeffer conflates Cusa and Bruno as first movers in the introduction of
the ‘heretical’ doctrine of the infinity of the universe: ‘The classical cosmos
was finite, like the created world of the Middle Ages… modern physics is
not as sure as it was about the infinity of the universe, but it has not gone
back to the earlier conceptions of its finitude’.68 Although Cusa’s cosmolog-
ical vision represents a notable break from the prevailing finite conception
of the universe in the late medieval period, it is distinct from Bruno’s claim
that the infinity of the universe is absolute, and that this cosmic infinity can
be identified with God’s infinity. As indicated in the overview of Cusa’s par-
ticipatory though at the beginning of this chapter, and as will be discussed
in further detail below, Cusa presents his own subtly yet substantially dif-
ferent idea of contracted infinity.
Other theologians have similarly misplaced Cusa’s historical role, going so
far as to credit Cusa with anticipating Copernicus’s proposed replacement
of geocentrism with heliocentrism, or Einstein’s relativity theory. Stenger
claims that Cusa ‘set the stage for what became known as the Copernican
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 135
revolution’.69 Rubenstein identifies Cusa not only as the first Christian theo-
logian to ‘genuinely’ abandon the spatially limited Aristotelian cosmos, but
also as a ‘surprising forerunner’ of modern cosmology who supposedly antic-
ipates the logic of Einstein’s theory of special relativity.70 While Cusa’s model
of the universe is more expansive than those of his theological antecedents,
it would be mistaken to identify it as a forerunner to Copernicus. Aside from
the fact that Cusa’s cosmology does not unambiguously reject geocentrism,71
it is important to remember that his cosmology is presented in the form of a
mystical, prayerful vision—not a systematic and complete scientific theory
based on empirical evidence, but an enigmatic and in many ways obscure
metaphysic of ‘learned ignorance’. This metaphysical outlook might provide
the resources to illuminate multiverse theories, but it should not be supposed
to have helped bring about subsequent scientific developments.
Of greater significance than the question of Cusa’s historical role is
Holder’s imprecise rendering of Cusa’s view of the infinite universe. This
follows from a lack of emphasis on the participatory nature of Cusa’s met-
aphysics, which is also evident in other theological multiverse assessments.
Holder claims that Cusa postulates an ‘infinite universe’, which Holder
finds ‘interesting’ since the notion of infinity is newly relevant in recent
disputes within the philosophy of cosmology.72 He adds that Cusa sees the
infinite universe as ‘especially befitting the perfection of the Creator’.73 In
the closest he comes to acknowledging the participatory aspect of Cusa’s
thought, with attention to infusion of divine being and imitation on the
part of created being, he notes that Cusa’s view of the infinite cosmos is
based on ‘the idea that God infuses the world with as much of his own
perfection as is possible while still making the world different from himself.
The geometric symbol of God as infinite sphere is transferred to the world
as concretely imaging God’.74 As Holder observes, this univocal approach,
which identifies God too closely with the world, finds an interesting mod-
ern scientific echo in the work of cosmologists such as Lawrence Krauss,
who ‘are happy enough with a concept of God that simply identifies God
with the universe or with the laws of nature’.75
In addition, Holder’s somewhat attenuated interpretation of Cusan infin-
ity is similar to Collins’s argument for the compatibility of the multiverse
hypothesis with theism, which is advanced in Cusan terms and cited by
Holder as a modern philosophical case for the compatibility of God and the
multiverse.76 According to Collins, since God is infinite and infinitely crea-
tive, ‘it makes sense that creation would reflect these attributes, and hence
that physical reality might be much larger than one universe’.77 He believes
that the Cusan notion of an infinite universe is newly relevant and compel-
ling in light of recent inflationary multiverse models, as well as the general
cosmological trajectory towards a progressively more expansive view of the
cosmos. He also thinks that the kind of universe-generating mechanism
associated with some inflationary models would represent an elegant way
for an infinitely creative God to create an infinite universe.
136 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
Since Holder interprets Cusa’s notion of an infinite universe in such a
strict, univocal sense, it is not surprising that he is inclined to identify ‘para-
doxes of infinity’ as one of the problems of multiverse thought.78 Following
his claim that Cusa postulates an infinite universe, he notes that the prob-
lem of the existence of actual infinities in nature is in dispute in recent
cosmological debates, observing that cosmologists (such as George Ellis)
and philosophers (such as William Lane Craig) ‘have questioned whether
an infinite number of physical things… can actually exist’.79 On this point,
Holder considers the mathematician David Hilbert’s paradox of the hotel
with infinitely many rooms. In this hotel, even if all the rooms were full,
it would still be possible to accommodate infinitely many more guests by
asking the guest in Room 1 to move to Room 2, the guest in Room 2 to
move to Room 4, the guest in Room 3 to move to Room 6, and so on, leav-
ing the even numbered rooms full, but all the odd numbered rooms free.
This suggests that infinities can be added to but never completed. In fact,
Hilbert concludes that the infinite is ‘nowhere to be found in reality, no
matter what experiences, observations, and knowledge are appealed to’.80
For Holder, Hilbert and likeminded critics, infinity is not specifiable or
physically realisable and, in the case of multiverses, is indicative of a cor-
rupted scientific model. If, as Holder believes, Cusa endorses an unambigu-
ously infinite universe, then such a vision (and any multiverse models based
on infinity) would founder on the incoherence of the concept of physically
realisable infinity.

4.2.2 Cusa on contracted infinity

Contrary to Holder’s emphasis on actual infinities in nature, Cusa’s universe
is potentially infinite—not strictly infinite or strictly finite, but boundless
in its infinitude of space and quantity, tending always towards its infinite
divine source. His vision is not of realised infinities, but of an orientation
towards, or a constant desire and restlessness for, infinity. Cusa identifies
within the boundlessness of creation the infinity of the creator, such that
the potential (or contracted) infinity of the universe is imitative in nature.
In his participatory vision, God’s infinity is the archetype of the imitative
boundlessness and endlessness of the universe. The absolute infinity of God
is not equivalent to the (restricted or contracted) infinity of the universe,
but stands as an archetype of perfect infinity that is received only partially
throughout creation. The universe is infinite not in the strict sense in which
Holder and others seem to interpret Cusa, but in its status as an image that
is drawn in its endlessness to imitation of its source.
Before examining Cusa’s concept of privative infinity, it should be kept
in mind that the claim itself is, as his most authoritative recent translator
Jasper Hopkins admits, ‘difficult to interpret’ and the subject of ‘a num-
ber of statements, which, on the surface, appear contradictory’.81 If, as
Hopkins contends, Cusa discusses contracted infinity in vague (or even
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 137
misleading and nonsensical) terms, we might be tempted to dismiss the idea
as confused or muddled. Alternatively, we might consider two alternative
(and more sympathetic) explanations for its obscurity. First, Cusa offers
his speculations in a spirit of prayer and devotion, which inherently defies
the conceptual clarity often sought in other disciplines such as philosophy
or science. As discussed previously, this style is exemplified in Book III of
De Docta Ignorantia, as well as in De Visione Dei. Second, Cusa’s work is
defined by a spirit of restless curiosity, driven by the impulse to go further,
to explore the limits of thought, and to seek to transcend such limits. The
scientific search for a multiverse might be seen as a modern instance of this
unbounded desire to expand our cosmic horizons. This attitude is given
deeper metaphysical meaning in Cusa’s exploration of infinity. He seeks
not only to expand our (finite) horizons, but to ascend from the finite to the
infinite, from our intelligible realm to that which lies beyond. This empha-
sis on infinity, while perhaps more amenable to non-theological critics than
the prayerful character of his work, likewise results in paradoxical and
enigmatic statements.
To illustrate what Cusa means by the contracted infinity of the universe,
it would be useful to consider what he is and is not claiming about the
universe itself, before proceeding to consider the universe in relation to
God. With regard to the universe, there seem to be three possibilities: first,
that the universe is strictly finite; second, that the universe has a finitude
of number (or things) but unbounded space; or third, that the universe
has an infinitude of number, which may be unbounded or realised (that is,
potentially or actually infinite). In terms of the first possibility, given his
emphasis on infinity (both cosmic and divine), it is clear that Cusa does not
believe the cosmos is finite in any strict or conventional sense. Indeed, the
first chapter of Book II of De Docta Ignorantia is concerned with infer-
ring an ‘infinite universe’.82 The second possibility is more promising, since
Cusa suggests that the universe, with no ‘fixed circumference’ is not limited
in space by anything outside of its boundaries.83 The universe is not limited
by any other spatial thing, since it encompasses all spatial things. There is
nothing outside of it which might fix its circumference, and to this extent it
is spatially unbounded.
However, Cusa’s vision of a privatively infinite universe is not just limited
to the idea that it is spatially unbounded. This leads to the third possibil-
ity of whether, in addition to being spatially unbounded, there exists an
infinitude of quantity among things in the universe. Within this possibil-
ity, the true meaning of privative infinity rests on the distinction between
whether this infinitude of quantity is itself unbounded (and thus potentially
infinite) or realised (and thus actually infinite). In terms of quantities of
things in the universe, Cusa maintains that it is not possible to reach either
the absolute greatest or absolute smallest and thus ‘no transition is made
to the infinite’.84 Although it is always possible to posit a greater and a
lesser (whether in terms of quantity, virtue, or perfection) than any finite
138 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
thing, this progression does not continue into infinity. Since each part of
the infinite is infinite, it cannot contain ‘more’ or ‘less’, nor can ‘more’ or
‘less’ stand in comparative relation to the infinite. To illustrate this, Cusa
observes that in ‘the infinite’ the number two would not be smaller than
the number one hundred. As such, it seems that Cusa’s privative infinity
of quantity, while unbounded insofar as we can always posit more or less,
is only potentially infinite since it does not extend to an actual infinity.
According to this third possibility, then, Cusa believes that the universe is
not strictly infinite, but potentially (or privatively) infinite, existing ‘only in
a contracted manner, so that it exists in the best way in which the condition
of its nature allows’.85
The privative infinity of the universe has a participatory character.
Although it does not allow for a transition to actual infinity, it is sug-
gestive of what Karl Jaspers refers to as ‘another kind of infinity of the
finite world… the endlessness of the world… The infinity of the world
is an image of God’s infinity—it is mere endlessness’.86 This is a kind
of boundlessness characterised by incompleteness (in contrast to the
perfection of God), befitting the restless search for infinity that defines
Cusa’s work and was discussed earlier. Since the universe encompasses
all things apart from God, it can be thought of as unbounded (both in
terms of quantity and space) and therefore privatively (if not absolutely)
infinite.87 In this sense, the absolute (or maximum) infinity of God is
given expression in the contracted or restricted infinity of the universe.
The universe, with its contracted infinity, imitates the absolute infinity
of God: ‘Because the cosmos is an image, it is infinite, but its infinity is
of the imitative kind, which denotes endlessness, the possibility of always
going further’.88
This kind of privative or contracted infinity is distinct from the infinity
of God, who is ‘negatively infinite’ and includes ‘whatever there can at
all possibly be’.89 Cusa explains that the infinite God had the power to
create an infinite universe. God is infinite in the sense that He is ‘Infinite
Actuality’, the actualisation of the infinite variety of possibilities.90 This
is not possible outside God, and so everything except God is necessarily
contracted. As such, the possibility of the universe (or any created thing) is
contracted, such that it could not be absolute or ‘actually infinite’ or greater
or other than it is.91
Cusa’s universe, then, is neither strictly finite nor strictly infinite. In De
Docta Ignorantia, it is variously (and, it might seem, mystifyingly and
self-contradictorily) described as ‘neither finite nor infinite’,92 as ‘priva-
tively infinite’,93 and as having ‘infinity contracted through finitude’.94
These terms are intended to signify that the universe is not infinite, but
potentially (or privatively) infinite. His cosmology is concerned with an ori-
entation towards infinity, an understanding that while there is no limit to
the number of things within the universe, true infinitude of number is not
actually realised. In contrast to the ‘Infinite Actuality’ of God, the infinity
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 139
of the universe is always incomplete, with its very endlessness embodying
the partial way in which it receives and participates in God’s being: ‘For
the Infinite Form is received only finitely, so that every created thing is, as
it were, a finite infinity’.95

4.2.3 Mathematical infinity and God’s infinity

Cusa’s conception of the participatory relationship between mathematical
infinity and God’s infinity can help navigate some of the conceptual prob-
lems with multiverse theory that Holder identifies. In contrast to Holder,
Cusa makes a sharper distinction between infinity as a mathematical prob-
lem and infinity as an object of theological or metaphysical speculation. At
the same time, he holds that mathematical infinity can serve as a metaphor
or an intimation of God’s infinity. This participatory account might help to
provide a counterweight to Holder’s view that any kind of infinite universe
would be less ‘comprehensible’ than a strictly finite universe to ‘humans
made in the image of God’.96
Holder, reflecting the general theological consensus of Cusa’s relevance
for multiverse thought, adopts a univocal reading of Cusa’s metaphysics of
the relation of creation to creator. Contrary to his claim that Cusa’s sym-
bol of God as infinite sphere is directly ‘transferred’ to the universe, it is
more properly seen as an illustration of the participatory character of the
universe. The (contracted) infinity of the universe is an image and imitation
of God’s (absolute) infinity. As an image of infinity, the universe cannot
be enclosed between a physical centre and a circumference, which is why
Cusa’s metaphor suggests that God alone, as infinite sphere, is the centre
and circumference of the universe. Although the universe is not strictly
infinite, it cannot be seen as finite since it lacks boundaries and its qualities
and quantities tend towards infinity. This boundlessness, which can also
be seen as a kind of restlessness and incompleteness, points to and imitates
the infinity of God.
In response to Holder’s doubt that an infinite number of physical things
can actually exist, and his observation that ‘an infinity can always be added
to and is never complete’,97 we might note that Cusa, as demonstrated in
the previous section, argues that the privative infinitude of quantity in the
universe should be understood as a potential infinity, not an actual infinity.
Unlike Holder, who is troubled by the idea of actually existing infinities in
creation, Cusa depicts a creation that can be seen as a copy of God’s infin-
ity, that might prompt us to seek to ascend to God’s infinity, but that does
not itself contain or embody actually realised infinity. In fact, we might also
note that even if there could be a realised infinity of things in the universe,
this would still fall radically short of God’s infinity. Whether potential or
realised, Cusa provides reason to believe that the infinitude of quantity
in the universe is not the same as—and is indeed subordinate to—God’s
infinite perfection and simplicity.
140 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
While Holder’s theological critique of multiverse thought is based to a
considerable extent on discussion of the paradoxes of mathematical infini-
ties, Cusa employs mathematical symbolism as a way of approaching God’s
infinity. His method is threefold: first, we must recognise that all mathe-
matical figures are finite; second, we must apply these figures ‘in a trans-
formed way’ to corresponding infinite mathematical figures; and third,
we must apply the relations of these infinite figures to the simple Infinite,
or God.98 In this sense, mathematical infinity comes to symbolise divine
infinity, though it remains the case that divine infinity is beyond our full
understanding. Mathematics provides a way for us to think ‘more cor-
rectly’ about God as ‘we grope by means of a symbolism’.99 By comparison
with Holder’s conflation of mathematical and divine infinity, Cusa offers a
metaphysics that is at once more constructive and more confounding—con-
structive in the sense that he illustrates how we might proceed from knowl-
edge of mathematical figures to knowledge of God, yet confounding in the
sense that he also accepts the limits to this kind of speculative knowledge.
Holder associates the infinity of God with the infinity of the universe,
which in turn prompts him to focus on the implausibility of actual infin-
ities in nature. Cusa, though, depicts a universe of contracted infinity, in
which the infinitude of number is unbounded yet not actually realised. The
universe is an image of, or participation in, God’s infinity, and is thus ori-
ented towards infinity. This outlook is broadly consistent with the outlook
of Tegmark’s Level I multiverse model, which posits space in our universe
that extends far beyond what we can currently observe and whose com-
ponents seem to be tending towards endlessness. Like Cusa’s cosmos, this
model appears to be without centre or circumference, a multiverse whose
‘perspectival’ character offers limitless possibility and, perhaps, lends itself
to the kind of uncertainty and ambiguity characteristic of postmodern phi-
losophy. The plausibility of just such postmodern philosophical readings of
Cusa’s relevance to multiverse theory will be the subject of the next part of
this chapter.

4.3 Catherine Keller on interrelation

In this section, I will offer a participatory reading of Cusa that might stand
as an alternative to the American theologian Catherine Keller’s reception
of his cosmology and negative theology. Keller, a postmodernist and fem-
inist theologian at Drew University, perceives in Cusa’s infinite universe
an opportunity to develop a new theology of materiality and relational-
ity. Initially, I will outline and evaluate her notion of a ‘multiverse of per-
spectives’, in which the entanglements of an immensely vast and crowded
cosmos underline, in her view, the need for political and social change in
the material world. I will then argue that, rather than associating Cusa
with interrelation and perspectivism (the view that truth is contingent on
perspective), he is more properly seen as insisting on the importance of
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 141
individuality and of transcending one’s own finite perspective. In fact, his
primary concern is not with Keller’s postmodern multiplicity of entangled
perspectives and related bodily implications, but with the participatory goal
of overcoming perspectival limits to ascend to the infinite God. Finally, I
will propose that an emphasis on Cusa’s celebration of human uniqueness
would be more consistent with the spirit of his work than Keller’s conscrip-
tion of his cosmology to reinforce her own political outlook.

4.3.1 Keller on a multiverse of perspectives

Keller’s Cloud of the Impossible: Negative Theology and Planetary
Entanglement is an ambitious and expansive project in which tradi-
tional philosophy of religion is brought into contact with contemporary
debates in theology and science. As the subtitle indicates, Keller is con-
cerned with the relationship between the apophatic and the relational—
or, as she puts it, the nonknowable and the nonseperable.100 She seeks to
demonstrate that the interconnectivity of our world—‘the manifold of
social movements, the multiplicity of religious or spiritual identifications,
the queering of identities, the tangled planetarity of human and nonhu-
man bodies’101—can be understood ‘apophatically entangled in and as
theology’.102 By this she means that the negativity of apophatic entanglement
ultimately gives way to material and relational differences and possibilities.
Her text bears structural and stylistic similarities to Cusa’s work. In terms
of structure, she follows the example of his metaphor of enfolding/unfolding
(complicatio/explicatio), dividing her work in three parts: Complications,
in which she offers a genealogy of negative theology with particular refer-
ence to Cusa; Explications, in which she draws widely on quantum physics,
Alfred North Whitehead’s process theology, and Walt Whitman’s poetry;
and Implications, in which she presents the political and ecological impli-
cations of her theology of apophatic entanglement. In terms of style, her
Cusa-inspired turns to lyricism, poeticism, and ambiguity, mean that she is
often elusive and difficult to interpret.
Keller acknowledges that her project depends upon Cusa’s negative
theology, in which she identifies ‘perhaps for the first time in Christian
thought, a theological cosmology of relation’.103 In this manner, her dis-
tinctly postmodern enterprise of deconstructive negation and affirmative
interrelation rests on Cusa’s fifteenth century articulation of the constituent
interdependence of the universe, as in his Anaxagorean idea that ‘all is in
all and each is in each’. She believes that his idea of learned ignorance—the
cloud of the impossible—offers ‘not just an apophatic panentheism, but the
holographic vision of a radically interrelated universe’.104 On this reading,
Cusa’s negative theology does not simply amount to subjective mysticism,
but provides a relational cosmology suggestive of outward expansion and
consistent with our modern intuition of accelerating interconnection. She
expresses this insight in the language of modern multiverse theory: ‘What
142 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
unfolds in the cloud-space of the Cusan God is a multiverse of perspectives,
proliferating holographically, irresolvable into any fixed proposition’.105
Her reference to holographic imagery implies that this ‘cloud-space’ defies
easy comprehension.
Crucially, Keller understands Cusa to be engaged in an ‘experiment in
perspective’.106 The cloud of the impossible (or the practice of learned igno-
rance) provides a new perspective on the infinite and thereby on the per-
spective of finite creatures. Thus, negative theology comes to reveal the
positive materiality and the infinite potentiality of the universe. To sub-
stantiate this claim, she highlights the significance of perspective in De
Visione Dei, with particular reference to Cusa’s use of the icon, the visible
image of the invisible God, whose face seems to gaze upon the observer
regardless of their perspective. The observer is thus being observed by the
observed, and so the icon represents both God’s vision of us and our vision
of God—a paradoxical interrelation of seeing and the seen, mirrored in
the perspectival ambiguity of the title itself. She then considers the negative
theology of De Docta Ignorantia, in which God is depicted as infinite and
ineffable, most truly spoken of ‘through removal and negation’.107 To the
limited extent that we can apply affirmative names to God, we can do so
‘only in relation to creatures’.108 In view of Cusa’s insistence on relationality
as necessary for describing God, Keller believes that he ‘undoes any claims
of theology to transcend its perspective, the sociocreaturely context of its
relations’.109
Indeed, Keller perceives throughout De Docta Ignorantia ‘a radical rela-
tionality’ with ‘the relativity of perspectivism… gestating in apopohatic
theology all along’.110 She notes that a perspective is ultimately a view, one
among many, which can only be defined and understood in relation to oth-
ers. On this account, Cusa’s learned ignorance—on which his cosmology
depends—is necessarily a perspectival enterprise, through which we rec-
ognise the extent to which our knowledge of a subject is limited by our
perspectives. For Keller, the infinity of Cusa’s God (of which the universe is
a boundless copy) underscores the finitude of our own perspectives (which
are always relational) and also ‘enflames our relation to that very infin-
ity’.111 She argues that this perspectivism opens an alternative ‘third way’
to the univocity and equivocity that preoccupy Aquinas, ‘that of a partic-
ipatory ontology indebted to Thomas but radicalized, open-ended, and so
precisely infinite’.112
Curiously, Keller does not pursue this identification of the participatory
character of Cusa’s metaphysics (or its theological antecedents), opting
instead to view him as a key figure in the emergence of modern perspectiv-
ism. On this point, it is true that there are two important ways in which
Cusa’s interest in the problem of perspective accords with modern concerns.
First, his insight that perceptual knowledge is inescapably perspectival—
that, for example, our experience of observing an icon depends on having a
particular body which is itself situated in a particular environment—finds
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 143
similar expression in modern theories of embodied cognition.113 Second, his
emphasis on the limits of human knowledge is consistent with the modern
scientific worldview.114 Although Keller, reflecting a broad recent consen-
sus, sees Cusa’s focus on the limits of knowledge as an anticipation of the
epistemological turn (the shift away from classical and medieval metaphys-
ical themes to issues related to human knowledge, exemplified in Descartes
and Kant), she largely overlooks the Platonic and participatory outlook that
is integral to his thinking. On this view, there is a gap between the sensible
and intelligible realms, which can be bridged by participation. As will be
discussed below, Cusa’s interest is not primarily in line with Keller’s post-
modern celebration of the ‘impossible cloud’ of ‘possibly infinite perspec-
tives’,115 but with the participatory imperative of transcending our limited
perspectives and encountering God.
Keller also highlights the importance of what she sees as Cusa’s per-
spectivism in the specific context of cosmology and multiverse thought.116
Here, she concurs with Mary-Jane Rubenstein’s assessment that Cusan
cosmology opens up something like a ‘perspectival multiverse’.117 Keller
sees this as consistent with her reading that Cusa’s negative theology gives
rise to an affirmative cosmology—or, ‘in the excess that overflows from
the negative infinite, a paradigm of radical relationality reveals itself’.118
She infers this ‘radical interrelation’ from the God-world relationship that
Cusa explores through his metaphor of unfolding and enfolding in the
first two books of De Docta Ignorantia. As discussed earlier in this chap-
ter, Cusa argues that if everything is enfolded in God and if God is also
unfolded in everything, then the universe as a whole is present to each
creature in the way that God is in each creature. According to Keller, this
means that God is not just in a given creature, but in a given creature
with the whole universe attached. The universe is thereby contracted or
mediated in each creature, such that the universe is what it is ‘only in the
perspective of each and all of its creatures… each creature is its perspec-
tive on its universe’.119
This is Cusa’s intuition of ‘each thing is in each thing’, with each thing
representing an image of the collective whole and an image of all other
things that are interrelated parts of the whole. For Keller, this vision of
interrelation implies a boundless multiplicity of perspectives infusing the
cosmos ‘not as a mere plurality of worlds but as an intertwined multi-
verse’.120 Since each thing is in each thing, then God, who is unfolded in
the universe, is also in each thing. God is therefore immediately present
to each thing, including the universe as a whole, which can itself be seen
as an image of God. Here, Keller approvingly cites Rubenstein’s analysis
that Cusa is displacing the mirror image view of God and the universe by
folding God into the universe which itself is God’s image: the universe does
not reflect a distant God, but embodies God in its wholeness and in every
one of its constituent parts.121 This is what Rubenstein memorably depicts
as a ‘holographic’ multiverse, ‘not a static hierarchy under an extracosmic
144 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
divinity, [but] a dynamic holography in which God is fully and equally
present to everything in creation’.122
Keller believes that this Cusan holographic multiverse of interrelation
and entanglement has profound political and social implications. We live
in a crowded, interconnected cosmos where each being is, as Cusa puts it,
a ‘created god, a finite infinity’.123 It is this presence of (contracted) infinity
throughout the cosmos that Keller believes makes possible ‘our potential to
actualize’ a different, ‘more convivial’ world.124 Since God is unfolded in
the universe, theology cannot unfold or disentangle itself from the material
concerns of natural sciences, or politics, economics, and ecology. Keller
proposes that this situation calls for something like a ‘new materialism’
which would in turn signal a ‘new relationalism, rigorous in its attention
to bodies [that are] sensuous, disabled, queer, vital’.125 While this call for
a new materialism is expressed forcefully, elsewhere she is notably more
circumspect about imposing upon Cusa her particular form of identity
politics. As Keller herself admits later in the text, in spite of the postmod-
ern edifice that she has constructed around him, Cusa ‘certainly fails to
become a postmodern pluralist’ and instead ‘remains a premodern and
Christocentric Christian’.126 This failure is not so much Cusa’s as Keller’s
self-confessed anachronistic reading of Cusa. In particular, it follows from
her surprising neglect of the participatory character of his metaphysical
thought, which will now be considered as a counterweight to her excessive
emphasis on interrelation and materiality.

4.3.2 Cusa on individuality

As a corrective to Keller’s disproportionate emphasis on interrelation and
perspectivism, it is also important to remember that Cusa’s metaphysics
is concerned with securing individuality, as well as the more Neoplatonic
project of overcoming perspectival finitude to ascend to the infinite. In
both instances—affirming individuality and transcending finite limits—
participation is paramount, and this is precisely the aspect of Cusa’s thought
to which Keller fails to attend.
To a significant degree, Keller’s theory of planetary interdependence (the
allegedly entangled web of our social, political, and environmental spheres)
is informed by Cusa’s idea that all things are in all things. Yet this interrela-
tion must be set in the equally important context of a cosmos in which each
thing is different. All things are in all things, but all things are not identical,
and we should not overlook the necessary particularity that obtains among
each thing in the universe. This is because only God’s essence is ‘eternal
and immutable’ whereas each thing in creation participates in this infinite
essence in its own limited and unique way.127 To illustrate this point, Cusa
uses a mathematical analogy of an infinite line, which is the essence of a
finite line. In an infinite line, a line of two feet and a line of three feet do
not differ, but considered apart as finite lines they are clearly different.
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 145
This difference arises because they do not participate equally in the essence
of the infinite line: ‘Hence, there is only one essence of all lines, and it is
participated in in different ways’.128 Thus, participation explains the indi-
viduality of all things in the universe. Each thing participates in the essence
of God, yet remains uniquely itself.
In the opening chapter of Book III of De Docta Ignorantia, Cusa elabo-
rates on the necessary individuality of created things. He explains that abso-
lute oneness and equality belong to God alone, whereas the many things
in the universe cannot exist or agree in this kind of ‘supreme equality’, or
they would cease to be many.129 As such, it is necessary that each thing in
the universe differs from every other thing, and this individuality may be
expressed in three different ways: ‘either (1) in genus, species, and number
or (2) in species and number or (3) in number—so that each thing exists in
its own number, weight, and measure’.130 This means that all things are dis-
tinguished by degree, with no two things exactly coinciding. Since a given
thing cannot ‘participate precisely’ in God in the same way as any other
thing, any given thing may be thought of as comparatively greater or lesser
than anything else: ‘Hence, there is nothing in the universe which does not
enjoy a certain singularity that cannot be found in any other thing, so that
no thing excels all others in all respects or excels different things in equal
measure’.131 There can never be precise equality between things, nor is it
possible for a given thing to be entirely identical with any other thing at
any given time. Again, Cusa turns to mathematical symbolism to underline
his point, describing the way in which a square inscribed in a circle might
pass from being smaller than the circle to larger than the circle without ever
being equal to it.132
In this way, even Cusa’s idea of all things in all things (which Keller
invokes to stress the interrelation of things) comes to express the individu-
ality of things by virtue of participation (which she overlooks). Each thing
is the universe in its own limited form, as an image of or participation in
the whole: ‘the universe is in each thing in one way, and each thing is in
the universe in another way’.133 Since absolute identity between things is
impossible, each thing is in each thing, but cannot actually be all things.
Instead, each thing, as limited and particular, contracts all things within
itself, just as God is in the universe in a contracted way. Each thing is
therefore immediate to God, just as God is immediate to the universe as
a whole. The icon referred to earlier is not just a device to illustrate the
diversity of perspectives, but to express the idea that God sees each thing
in its own way, and that each thing can participate in God in its own way.
To highlight the significance of the individual in Cusa’s cosmology is not
necessarily to contradict Keller’s emphasis on interrelation, but to compli-
cate her narrative of cosmic entanglement and to insist on the participatory
possibility of the individual’s encounter with God rather than a vaguely
articulated and politically motivated ‘network of social response to the cri-
ses of a planetary interdependence’.134
146 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
In addition to her focus on interrelation, Keller places a strong emphasis
on what she takes to be the perspectival and bodily implications of Cusa’s
thought. She believes that Cusa’s infinite God unfolds in a multiverse of
perspectives, calling for a new theology of embodiment that ‘cultivates a
greater inter-creaturely solidarity’ and pays attention to groups that she
perceives to be victimised by society, a political perspective that (as noted
above) she concedes is un-Cusan.135 However, Cusa is not concerned with
Keller’s postmodern celebration of the multiplicity of perspectives or bod-
ies, nor is he concerned with contemporary accounts of alleged bodily dif-
ferences and injustices that have recently given rise to ‘contextual, queer,
ecological, postcolonial, counter-imperial theologies’.136 Rather, he believes
that we should seek to overcome our perspectival and bodily limitations,
and to participate in God in our own ways. In his conception of the God-
world relationship, the gap between our finite, bodily realm and the infinite
perfection of God can be bridged by participation—specifically, by a kind
of participation unique to each creature such that ‘the one, infinite Form is
participated in in different ways by different created things’.137 In his mysti-
cal vision, everything in existence is drawn to participate in God’s ‘bright-
ness and blazing splendor’.138 With a metaphor that complicates Keller’s
emphasis on materiality and bodily forms, Cusa specifies that the ‘distin-
guishing and penetrating participated brightness’ of God is contracted
immaterially throughout the cosmos, in the life of intellectual beings.139
Furthermore, Keller’s postmodern interest in an endless entanglement of
perspectives and bodies sits uneasily with Cusa’s participatory account of
mathematical knowledge as an image of divinity. He argues that spiritual
matters are investigated not materially, but symbolically. All perceptible
things—including bodies—are inherently unstable because of ‘the material
possibility abounding in them’.140 On the other hand, mathematics is more
abstract than material objects and therefore provides a more reliable and cer-
tain kind of knowledge. Mathematical objects are more fixed and stable than
material objects, just as a purely mathematical triangle will be fixed and stable
in comparison with a triangle perceived by the senses in the material realm. By
turning our attention from the sensory to the non-sensory realm, mathemat-
ics provides a foundation for transcending our bodily finitude and ascending
to the infinite. In this sense, mathematics is a sort of metaphysical practice,
with its figures and symbols becoming images or participations in God. With
this view of the certainty of non-physical mathematical knowledge as a way
of beginning to approach God, Cusa is clearly not operating according to the
assumptions of Keller’s postmodern theory of embodiment and materiality.

4.3.3 Human uniqueness

For Keller, Cusa offers a multiverse of perspectives, an infinite expanse
in which entanglements of histories, bodies, and collectives call for a
new materialism, aimed at overcoming perceived social and ecological
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 147
injustices, such as economic inequality and climate change. This is Keller’s
way of finding meaning in the context of an infinitely expanded cosmos
and of moving from cloud to crowd—from the negative cloud of apophatic
theology to the affirmative material possibilities afforded by our plane-
tary entanglement. Keller’s perspectivism is forcefully (if at times vaguely)
expressed and worthy of attention insofar as it might prompt us to increase
our regard for social, political, and environmental concerns. Her sense of
deepening planetary interdependence also seems timely, given the economic
and technological changes that enable ever more commerce, communica-
tion, and migration between and within borders. Yet, as is clear from the
foregoing, her use of the term ‘multiverse’ is more meaningful in relation
to these social and political issues rather than as the cosmological model
discussed throughout this book.
In response to Keller’s emphasis on individual perspective, we might note
that Cusa offers a different account of human uniqueness, informed by
participation, and closer attention to this would be more faithful to his cos-
mological vision than Keller’s unconventional reading. As a consequence of
Cusa’s stress on individuality—with each thing differing from every other
thing while mediating God and every other thing in a limited manner—
each thing is perfect in its own way. Again, participation provides the basis
for this account of human uniqueness. As outlined earlier, Cusa suggests
that God’s ‘Infinite Form’ is received only finitely so that each thing is a
kind of ‘finite infinity or a created god, so that it exists in the way in which
this can best occur’.141 Every created thing is therefore perfect in its own
way, even though it may seem less perfect in comparison with other created
things. God imparts being to each thing in creation, according to the man-
ner in which His infinite being can be received by a given thing. The indi-
viduality and particularity of each thing means that God’s being is received
in a way that it could not be received in any other way or to a greater or
lesser degree by the given thing. In this participatory context, every being
exists in the best way it can be, finding ‘satisfaction in its own perfection,
which it has from the Divine Being freely’.142
Unlike some modern cosmologists who believe that a multiverse would
imply that humanity occupies an extremely insignificant role in the cos-
mos, or Keller who sees a perspectival multiverse as an opportunity for
social renewal, or Rubenstein who seems to offer a postmodern diagnosis
of inescapable uncertainty or even nihilism, Cusa sees each being in the
infinite universe in its own unique greatness, as a copy of, or participant in,
God’s infinity. The radical openness and possibilities presented in the kind
of postmodern ‘perspectival’ outlook depicted by Keller and Rubenstein
are best read as pointing to participation in God’s eternity, infinity, and
perfection. This is certainly Cusa’s cosmological-theological view, in which
we each share in the ground of our boundless cosmos, while remaining
fundamentally ourselves. In the final analysis, an expanded conception of
the universe—whether contemplated in medieval theology or promised by
148 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
the latest developments in modern science—need not threaten and may in
fact enhance our understanding of human uniqueness: ‘For the universe
is in every individual, each of whom is, as it were, a copy of one of God’s
words…with irreplaceable value, a unique essence, a role in life’.143

4.4 David Albertson on mathematics

In the third and final part of the theological investigation of this chapter, I
will consider the relevance of Cusa’s mathematical theology to Tegmark’s
modern view of a mathematical universe in light of David Albertson’s
comprehensive study of Cusa, Mathematical Theologies. Albertson, a
professor of medieval and early modern Christianity at the University of
Southern California, provides a highly informed and detailed account
of the historical roots of Cusa’s mathematised view of the cosmos. By
highlighting Cusa’s thoroughly mathematical perspective, he shows that
medieval theology need not be incompatible with modern mathematisa-
tion and that religion therefore need not be in conflict with science. As
such, Albertson’s project represents a new opportunity to bring Cusa’s
mathematical theology into contact with Tegmark, who (as we have seen
earlier) brings his own distinctive mathematical assumptions to the mul-
tiverse proposal. However, I will argue that Albertson’s survey, while
broad in scope and rich in detail, overlooks the metaphysical purpose
of mathematics in Cusa’s religious cosmology. Mathematics is not just
a way to describe and understand the universe, but serves as a guide for
metaphysical speculation and provides a symbolic basis for ascending
to, and participating in, the infinite God who sustains the boundless
cosmos. With this qualified endorsement of Albertson’s reading of Cusa
in mind, I will provide a metaphysical response to Tegmark’s view that
mathematical existence implies physical existence and that there exists
some sort of transcendent multiverse structure. Cusa’s mathematical the-
ology reminds us that mathematics is not an end in itself, but a way to
approach (and not replace) God, just as Albertson shows that science
need not be seen as a replacement for religion.

4.4.1 Albertson on Cusa’s mathematical theology

In Mathematical Theologies, Albertson highlights the importance of
mathematics in Cusa’s thought, while also providing a compelling rejoin-
der to the decoupling in the modern mind of mathematics and theology
(and, by implication, science and religion). This decoupling followed the
seventeenth-century proliferation of mathematical laws occasioned by
figures such as Galileo, Descartes, Newton, and Leibniz, and has con-
tinued apace in the information revolution of the twentieth and twenty-
first centuries.144 Yet mathematics, with its intimations of ideal objects
and eternal truth, remains theological. The retrieval of this Pythagorean
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 149
insight, and its profound influence on ancient and medieval Christian
theology, lies at the heart of Albertson’s reconsideration of twelfth cen-
tury French philosopher Thierry of Chartres and his significant influence
on Cusa. By identifying the roots of Thierry’s Pythagoreanism in Cusa’s
own distinctive mathematical theology, Albertson suggests the possibil-
ity of continuity rather than conflict between the medieval and the mod-
ern, and science and religion.
Albertson’s richly detailed genealogy is divided into three parts. First, he
provides a useful account of Pythagorean philosophy (not simply numerical
rules, but the systematic application of mathematical concepts in philoso-
phy and theology) from Plato to Augustine to Nicomachus to Boethius.145
He suggests that, through a series of historical accidents, Pythagorean
thought fell into disuse for the next thousand years of Christian theology.
Second, he identifies the reemergence of Christian mathematical theology in
Thierry, not only in the notion of the arithmetical Trinity (whereby mathe-
matics mirrors and proceeds from divine self-numeration), but, crucially, in
Thierry’s modal theory (whereby theology grasps God’s enfolded simplicity
and mathematics grasps God’s unfolded unity in numerical difference). In
this system of reciprocal folding, theology and mathematics are seen as
intimately connected, each concerned with the same divine subject mat-
ter and end. Finally, with the pieces of his careful excavation of Christian
Pythagorean theology in place, Albertson convincingly demonstrates the
intellectual debt to Thierry owed by Cusa, who sees mathematics as the
most reliable way to contemplation of God.
Just as the rise of modernity is often associated with the supremacy of
mathematical and scientific models at the expense of religious belief, recent
scholarship has tended to perceive in Cusa a shift away from the constraints
of medieval Christian doctrine to a modern, mathematical epistemology.
Against this prevailing narrative, Albertson shows that Cusa offers a unique
account of the mutual interaction between mathematics and theology. For
Cusa, God is best exemplified by the maximal enfolding of number, of
particular things in the world. The Incarnation can be seen in mathemat-
ical terms as representing the intersection of the transcendent ground of
number and the potentially infinite multiplicity of created numerical dif-
ference. Moreover, theological thinking is itself properly seen as an ecstasy
of mathematical thinking, a sort of mathematical mysticism in which the
vision of God is achieved through the realisation that human and divine
self-measurement (or self-understanding) are synonymous. On Albertson’s
reading of Cusa, God is the ultimate mathematician, and the human mind
may ascend to the divine when it understands its own mathematical cate-
gories as reflections of God’s mathematical nature. Cusa’s mathematical
account of divinity and humanity thus serves as the mechanism by which
they are united. In this sense, Albertson concludes, Cusa’s theology fulfils
Thierry’s vision of an integration of mathematical cosmology with tradi-
tional Christian beliefs.
150 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
Albertson focuses specifically on what he refers to as ‘experiments in
Chartrian theology’ in Cusa’s De Docta Ignorantia, including the geomet-
rical and cosmological discussions in Books I and II.146 In terms of Book
I, he argues that Cusa presents mathematical knowledge as a via negativa
to God, since it is ‘fundamentally an encounter with an absent divine per-
fection, equality, or precision’.147 This is because finite minds cannot meas-
ure anything with precision, and number can only imperfectly capture the
infinite degrees of difference in the world. He cites Cusa’s claim that just as
a polygon could never equal the flawless curvature of a circle even if it were
infinitely multiplied, so the limitations of human mathematics fall short
of perfect measurement.148 God is ‘Maximum Equality’, coinciding with
minima beyond the categories of human (or mathematical) understanding.
Mathematical measurement, which seeks (yet ultimately fails to) encom-
pass all of the possible degrees of difference, implies a sense of infinity, just
as God’s presence within the (privatively) infinite universe is marked by ‘the
absent trace of equality’.149 Albertson therefore stresses the negative terms
or descriptions Cusa uses for God, such as Cusa’s claim that no image is
‘equal to its exemplar’150 or that God is ‘Equality of being of the things
which God was able to make, even had He not been going to make them’.151
In terms of Book II, Albertson believes that the notion of mathematical
knowledge as a negative way to approach God continues to frame Cusa’s
cosmological discussion. He notes that Cusa’s reflections on the quadrivium
(arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy) suggest that the mathematical
measurements of these disciplines ‘provide a negative index of transcendent
Equality’.152 In arithmetic, numbers can only be related through propor-
tions and harmonies. In geometry, the perfection of abstract shapes is never
reflected in material analogues. In music, no harmony achieves perfection.
In astronomy, calculations are imprecise due to the (apparently) unpredicta-
ble motions of planetary bodies. While useful forms of knowledge, together
the inherent limitations of these disciplines reflect the ‘infinite horizon of
human unknowing’, or another instance of Cusa’s notion of learned igno-
rance.153 Since only God embodies the perfect unity and equality sought by
each of these mathematical disciplines, Cusa concludes that they were orig-
inally divine activities: ‘In creating the world, God used arithmetic, geome-
try, music, and likewise astronomy’.154 Albertson notes that, unlike Plato’s
Timaeus, in which the experience of mathematical order and harmony of
the world points clearly to its intelligible source, Cusa invokes the quadriv-
ium precisely because it fails to achieve precision and perfection. Humans
only use the quadrivial arts imperfectly, glimpsing negative traces of God in
our failure to attain precision, while God alone is ‘the sole mathematician’,
capable of fully realising the precision of the quadrivium.155
Albertson’s achievement is to convincingly demonstrate that Cusa’s
‘powerful recasting of mathematical theology for the fifteenth century…
outstripped many Neopythagoreans of the past with its boldness and confi-
dence’.156 God, the ‘Infinite Oneness’ and the ‘enfolding of number’ and all
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 151
things,157 created the universe with the divine arts of arithmetic, geometry,
music, and astronomy. The view that the boundlessness of creation images
God’s infinity can be understood with reference to the geometric image of
the sphere whose centre is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.
The Incarnation can also be understood in mathematical terms, with Christ
defined as ‘the unique intersection of the Equality of the One and the sin-
gularity of numerical series’.158 Given God’s mathematical perfection, the
human mind (as God’s image) is also mathematical and self-measuring.
The pursuit of mathematical knowledge, as represented by the quadriv-
ial arts, ‘seizes the mathematician up into a vision of God: a mysticism
not opposed to mathematics but within it’.159 While Albertson successfully
shows that Cusa’s mathematical theology (drawing heavily on Thierry’s
own Pythagorean variant of Christianity) offers a fully integrated religious
cosmology, his historical account largely overlooks the metaphysical role of
mathematics, an aspect of Cusa’s thought that is crucial to consider in the
broader context of cosmological considerations.

4.4.2 Cusa on mathematics and participation

For Cusa, mathematics serves a metaphysical purpose. Its measurements
and numbers become symbols not merely of mathematical knowledge,
but of a metaphysical participation in divine creativity and perfection.
Albertson hints at this in his description of mathematical mysticism, but he
restricts his consideration of Cusa’s geometrical and cosmological specula-
tions in DI to the way in which mathematics is associated with describing
God in negative terms. This focus on negative theology, while instructive,
does not fully account for Cusa’s metaphysical vision of mathematics as an
image or copy of God’s mind. It will be important to draw out this partic-
ipatory aspect of Cusa’s mathematical theology because it will help to pro-
vide the basis of my theological response to Tegmark’s view of mathematics
in the following section.
In Book I of DI, Cusa explains that, as the title of Chapter 11 puts
it, ‘Mathematics assists us very greatly in apprehending various divine
truths’.160 While Albertson stresses the uncertainty and limitations of the
quadrivium, it is equally vital to remember Cusa’s insistence that mathemat-
ics captures truth more fully than any other mode of human knowledge. It
is because of the ‘incorruptible certainty’161 of mathematics that Cusa sees
it as a more reliable pathway to God than the ‘continual instability’162 of
the perceptible objects of other fields, though he accepts that mathematics
is not entirely free of material associations. Since mathematics concerns
abstract objects, which are ‘very fixed’ and ‘very certain’,163 it invites us
to turn from the imperfect sensory realm to the non-sensory realm. The
practice of contemplating non-sensory mathematical operations represents
a valuable preliminary step to ascending further to the intelligible realm of
divine perfection. Indeed, as the most certain and reliable form of human
152 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
knowledge, mathematics is the best (or perhaps, as Albertson’s emphasis on
negative theology might suggest, least worst) guide to the divine mind. To
underline its importance, Cusa appeals to the authority of previous math-
ematically minded philosophers, including Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle,
Augustine, and Boethius, all of whom used mathematics to address the
fundamental problems of human existence.
Cusa outlines a threefold process for using mathematical symbolism as
a way of ascending to God.164 First, we must understand that all mathe-
matical figures are finite. Second, we must apply these relations in a ‘trans-
formed way’ to corresponding infinite mathematical figures. Third, we
must (in an even more ‘highly’ transformed way) apply these relations of the
infinite figures to the simple Infinite, or God, who is truly independent of
all figures. With this symbolic approach, the mathematical attempt to grasp
infinity becomes an image of the metaphysical ascent to God’s infinite per-
fection. Infinity in mathematics points to and serves as a metaphor for a
wholly different order of divine infinity. Here, Cusa uses the analogy of
an infinite line to illustrate how we can move from contemplation of finite
things to infinite mathematical figures and finally to the infinite God. He
explains that an infinite line is ‘actually and infinitely all that which is in
the possibility of a finite line’.165 Since it contains all possible parts or vari-
eties of a finite line, an infinite line may be said to be the essence of a finite
line, in a similar way as God is the essence of all things. Equally, just as an
infinite line is indivisible and hence immutable and eternal, Cusa infers that
God, the essence and measure of all things, is immutable and eternal.166
As such, the infinite mathematical figure becomes an image of divine infin-
ity by means of this symbolic reasoning.
However, there is an additional participatory aspect to this relationship
between mathematical infinity and divine infinity which Albertson overlooks
in his survey of the historical roots of Cusa’s mathematical theology. It is
not just that mathematical symbolism provides a way to think about God. It
also leads to a deeper understanding of the participation of finite creatures in
God’s infinite being. Since, as discussed earlier in this chapter, participation
is Cusa’s way of bridging the gap between the finite and infinite realms, it
is not surprising that it features in his account of mathematical and divine
infinity. To understand how it is possible to participate in God, Cusa con-
tinues his consideration of the infinite line. As the essence of all other finite
lines, the infinite line is ‘participated in in different ways’.167 Differences of
participation occur because there cannot be two things (or lines) that are
exactly similar and ‘participate precisely and equally in one essence’.168 For
example, a curved finite line (since it is a deficiency of what is straight) will
participate in an infinite line ‘according to a mediate and remote participa-
tion’, whereas a straight finite line will participate according to a more ‘sim-
ple and immediate participation’.169 Similarly, finite beings will participate
according to various degrees of immediacy in God, the measure of all things
which participate in Him, ‘no matter how differently’.170
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 153
For Cusa, mathematics is ‘a symbolism for searching into the works of
God’.171 As the only precise form of knowledge open to our limited intel-
lects, it provides a ‘mirror’ or copy of divine knowledge, by virtue of which
we might gain some partial knowledge of God’s nature. It should be noted
that this mirror is not to be found in the mathematical entities themselves,
but in the activity of our mind in producing them. On Cusa’s account, the
human mind constructs mathematical entities such that they are more pres-
ent within the mind than as they exist outside the mind.172 He denies that
they have ‘another, still truer, supra-intellectual being’ that exists beyond the
mind.173 He rebukes Pythagoreans and Platonists for failing to understand
that mathematical entities proceed from our mind, do not represent percep-
tible things, and ‘are only the beginnings of rational entities of which we are
the creators’.174 While this striking claim will be of particular significance
in the context of Tegmark’s mathematical multiverse theories (to be dis-
cussed below), it remains an important participatory insight. Mathematical
entities may be the products of human thought, at least insofar as they are
rendered and expressed by us, but they also exist as copies of the divine
mind, since the mind itself is a copy of the divine mind. Mathematical enti-
ties therefore image and participate in God’s own self-numbering, which is
the ultimate source of number—and of the universe, as described earlier in
God’s use of mathematics to create the universe.175

4.4.3 Tegmark on the mathematical universe

Albertson’s reassertion of the robust mathematical foundations of Cusa’s
religious cosmology is particularly relevant in a modern context in which
the intensifying mathematisation and expansion of the cosmos might
appear to be proceeding without the need for theological explanation. He
shows that medieval theologians such as Cusa embrace a mathematised
view of the cosmos in the name and the categories of their own religious
beliefs. His genealogy therefore argues for greater continuity between
medieval and modern thought, as well as religion and science. As such, it
would be instructive to bring Cusa’s highly mathematised theology into
dialogue with the modern cosmological work of Max Tegmark, who—as
discussed earlier in this book—sees the (possibly infinite) cosmos in vividly
mathematical terms. While Albertson’s reappraisal of the mathematical
themes in Cusa’s cosmology is timely and constructive, the metaphysical
dimensions discussed in the previous section also merit consideration, since
they provide a necessary corrective to some of Tegmark’s philosophical
assumptions.
Central to Tegmark’s understanding of reality (on which his multiverse
hierarchy is based) is the claim that ‘reality isn’t just described by mathe-
matics—it is mathematics’.176 As evidence of this, he refers to space, which
he regards as a purely mathematical object in the sense that its properties
(such as dimensionality and topology) are mathematical. He sees things in
154 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
the physical world in similar terms, since they comprise elementary particles
whose properties (charge, spin) are mathematical. He notes that most (but
not all) physicists subscribe to the theory that there exists an external physi-
cal reality independent of humans. With a broad definition of mathematical
structure (to mean an abstract set of entities with relations between them),
he believes that this theory implies that our external physical reality is a
mathematical structure. This is because such mathematical entities have no
‘baggage’—no intrinsic human-defined properties other than mathematical
relations—such that they could be understood without reference to humans
and therefore satisfy the notion of an external reality completely independ-
ent of humans. If so, this means that we live in an immense mathematical
object and that everything in existence is purely mathematical.
Moreover, if mathematical existence implies physical existence, then
all mathematical structures exist physically, which forms the Level IV
multiverse. Curiously, Tegmark sees this as a ‘form of radical Platonism,
asserting that all the mathematical structures in Plato’s “realm of ideas”
exist “out there” in a physical sense’.177 Whereas all the Level I, II, and
III parallel universes obey the same fundamental mathematical equations,
Level IV universes correspond to different mathematical structures and
so any parameters ‘could in principle be derived by an infinitely intelligent
mathematician’.178 Tegmark quickly dispels any notion that this might
be equated to a creator or first mover: ‘You can’t make a mathematical
structure—it simply exists. It doesn’t exist in space and time—space and
time may exist in it’.179 Since all mathematical structures have the same
ontological status (that is, they all exist, in a condition that Tegmark calls
‘complete mathematical democracy’), he claims that the most interesting
question is not about which structures exist physically, but about which
structures contain life. Given that mathematical structures lack the com-
plexity to support self-aware substructures, he thinks it is likely that the
Level IV multiverse ‘resembles a vast and mostly uninhabitable desert,
with life confined to rare oases, bio-friendly mathematical structures such
as the one we inhabit’.180 Ultimately, he believes that such mathematical
structures (along with formal systems and computations) are different
aspects of ‘one underlying transcendent structure whose nature we still
don’t fully understand’.181
Certainly, Tegmark’s conception of a mathematical universe is fertile
scientific territory for Cusa’s highly mathematised religious cosmology. In
light of Albertson’s account of the extent to which Cusa draws heavily on
Thierry’s Pythagorean reception of Christian theology, it is worth noting
that Tegmark himself notes that the idea that our universe is in some sense
mathematical ‘goes back at least to the Pythagoreans’ of ancient Greek phi-
losophy.182 Tegmark also concurs with Plato’s cosmological account in the
Timaeus that the building blocks of the universe are mathematical, though
of course he goes on to claim that the universe is itself part of a single math-
ematical object. Although he does not specifically mention Cusa, there are
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 155
some clear parallels between the medieval theologian’s mathematical the-
ology and Tegmark’s mathematical universe. First, they both believe that
the cosmos has a self-evident character of mathematical relations and har-
mony. Second, they both believe that mathematics is a remarkably precise
and exact form of human knowledge, that it provides insight into our finite
world, and that this insight has a certain beauty and majesty—in short, and
to use physicist Eugene Wigner’s term, they are convinced by the ‘unreason-
able effectiveness of mathematics’.183 Third, they both view mathematics as
a means of turning beyond our immediate cosmic realm and rising to an
intimation of infinity (although Cusa is ultimately concerned with divine
and not only cosmic infinity).
However, there are also crucial differences between Cusa’s mathematical
theology and Tegmark’s mathematical views. These differences arise from
the fact that Cusa’s project is fundamentally metaphysical, not mathemati-
cal. Contrary to Tegmark’s view that mathematical insights can provide an
explanation for the whole universe, Cusa understands that these insights
serve only as an image or likeness of divine infinity, on which the whole
universe depends and in which we participate to different degrees. Since
the human mind is a copy of the divine mind, mathematical knowledge
is merely a copy of divine knowledge. Though providing intimations of
divine creativity, mathematical entities are inescapably products of human
thought and, as noted earlier, Cusa denies that such entities have any real
being outside of the activity of the mind that produced them. This contra-
dicts Tegmark’s view that mathematical structures correspond to physical
structure in the universe. Tegmark equates mathematics with no human
‘baggage’ (or concepts or language), whereas Cusa believes that mathemat-
ical thought is inescapably human, even if it is ordered towards and in
some sense originates in the divine realm. If we somehow discovered a
Tegmarkian ideal realm of mathematical objects, it would by definition not
be self-subsistent, but a construction of human thought.
In addition, Tegmark attributes the mathematical structure of the uni-
verse to a ‘transcendent structure’ that we do not yet (and may never) fully
understand. As the totality of both mathematical and physical existence,
this structure seems to serve as a replacement for God (or some kind of
divine designer) within Tegmark’s system. Instead of replacing divine infin-
ity with mathematical infinity, Cusa believes that mathematical symbolism
provides an intimation of God’s infinity. The example of the infinite line
shows that mathematical symbolism can help guide us from finite things
to infinite concepts and finally to knowledge of, and participation, in the
infinite God. The infinite line thus images and exemplifies divine infinity.
It is not, as Tegmark might suppose, thought to exist in physical reality or
beyond physical reality as a transcendent structure—it is just the means
by which we can improve our understanding of creaturely participation in
God’s infinite being. In Cusa’s cosmology, God is transcendent, absolutely
perfect and infinite, and mathematical operations serve as metaphors or
156 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
images of His infinity—they are not themselves, and never could be, the
transcendent underlying structure of the universe.
As Albertson demonstrates, Cusa’s mathematical theology is increasingly
relevant in a world that is ever more mathematised and a cosmos whose
horizons are ever more expansive. Instead of Tegmark’s Level IV insistence
on mathematical democracy and mysterious transcendent super structures,
we might conclude with the reflection that a more promising way to recon-
cile God and the multiverse (and thereby theology and science) would be
to imagine a more straightforward Level I multiverse realm in which the
infinity of the cosmos and the mathematical figures used for its description
are seen as expressions of God’s infinity. Since Level I multiverses obey the
same conventional laws of physics with which we are familiar, this is per-
haps a less controversial way to relate Cusa’s mathematical theology with
Tegmark’s expansive cosmology. It also stands as another example, follow-
ing our consideration of Tegmark and Plato in Chapter 2.4, of the way in
which Tegmark’s focus on the Level IV model raises so many complications
and ambiguities that it deters positive theological engagement. With that,
Cusa’s mathematical theology reminds us that mathematics is not an end in
itself, regardless of whether it describes a Level I or Level IV cosmos, but
serves ultimately as a way to approach (and not replace) God.

4.5 Summary
In this third chapter on a key participatory thinker, I explored the specula-
tive and enigmatic metaphysical thought of Nicholas of Cusa. In his mys-
tical theology, which is at once prayerful, playful, and profound, he views
participation as a way to bridge the gulf between finite creaturely being and
the infinite being of God. He explains that the infinite God has ordered all
finite things in the cosmos to participate in Him in different ways. In Cusa’s
cosmological vision, the cosmos is infinite, but in a contracted or limited
way, and stands as an image of divine infinity. The distinction between
cosmic and divine infinity, and its basis in participatory metaphysics, is
the central concern of this chapter in which I evaluated a diverse range of
contemporary thinkers. This included a scientist-theologian, a postmodern
theologian, and a historian of religion, all of whom offer accounts of infin-
ity in Cusa that, while thoughtful and constructive within the context of
multiverse considerations, do not attend sufficiently closely to the form and
function of participation in Cusa’s mystical theology.
First, I critically engaged with Rodney Holder’s reading of cosmic infinity
in Cusa. Holder is a multiverse sceptic in part because he is troubled by the
scientific notion of cosmic infinity, which he associates with the theological
ideas of Cusa. In response, I suggested that Cusa’s mystical-cosmological
vision offers an orientation towards infinity, with the cosmos standing as
potentially (or contractedly) infinite in likeness to God’s absolute infinity.
Unlike Holder, who is troubled by the idea of actually existing infinities,
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 157
Cusa depicts a creation that can be seen as pointing to and inviting us to
ascend to God’s infinity, but that does not itself represent actual infinity in
the literal sense Holder assumes. In any event, Cusa’s participatory outlook
is such that, whatever the precise nature of cosmic infinity, it would not be
the same as—and is indeed subordinate to—God’s infinite perfection and
simplicity. In light of this point of metaphysical clarification, I argued that
some of Holder’s objections to multiverse concepts can be addressed.
Second, I considered Catherine Keller’s rendering of Cusan cosmology.
Like Rubenstein in Chapter 2, Keller is particularly interested in what she
takes to be the ‘perspectival’ aspect of the Cusan multiverse; that is, the
postmodern emphasis on the multitude of entangled perspectives in a vast
cosmos, and its apparent social and political implications. I argued that,
instead of the anachronistic attribution of postmodern concepts to Cusa’s
metaphysics, he is more properly seen as insisting on the importance of
participation as a way of transcending one’s own finite perspective and
coming to know the infinite God. I also proposed that a careful account of
Cusa’s understanding of human uniqueness would be more consistent with
his metaphysical approach than Keller’s conscription of his cosmology to
serve her own political ends.
Finally, I offered a critical reading of David Albertson’s genealogical
study of the roots of Cusa’s mathematical theology. My goal with this read-
ing was to offer a way of reengaging with Max Tegmark’s idiosyncratic
conception of mathematics that had been considered earlier in this book.
As part of this, I observed that Albertson overlooks the role of partici-
patory metaphysics in Cusa’s conception of mathematics; specifically, that
mathematics plays a participatory role in enabling us to know and ascend
to the infinite God. I argued that Albertson’s oversight is of relevance to
Tegmark’s multiverse thought, which similarly neglects the transcendental
participatory scheme in which Cusa situates mathematics. With Tegmark’s
multiverse hierarchy having been a focal point in Chapters 1 and 2, this
reengagement with the metaphysical limitations of his work in light of
Cusa’s participatory metaphysics seemed to be a suitable way of concluding
the core theological investigation undertaken in this book.
In the last three chapters, I have provided a theological investigation of
the participatory metaphysical thought of Plato, Aquinas, and Nicholas of
Cusa in relation to the multiverse themes of cosmic multiplicity, cosmic
diversity, and cosmic infinity. In each case, my goal has been to demon-
strate that the vision of a sacramental, divinely ordered, participatory cos-
mos can come into constructive interaction with the multiverse hypothesis
and in unexpected ways might be more consistent with the implications of
this hypothesis than is often assumed in contemporary theology, philoso-
phy, and science. In the final part of this book, after providing a summary
of its main arguments, I will offer closing reflections on what I believe to be
the value of this participatory approach and how such an approach might
suggest promising future research directions for theology and science.
158 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
Notes
1 In fact, even among theological works that focus specifically on participation,
Cusa’s distinctive contributions to the tradition are often overlooked at the
expense of the more familiar Platonic and Thomistic models. As noted in
this chapter, this might be a consequence of Cusa’s elusive, enigmatic, and
often obscure writing style. Yet if we participate in God’s being in partial
and limited ways, then there is a sense in which participation will always
stand in close relation to mystery: we receive in part and we only know in
part. In this sense, Cusa’s participatory speculation, which seems to delight in
mystification and paradox, expresses an important truth about the nature of
participation. For an insightful assessment of Cusa’s participatory approach
to contemplative philosophy, see Jacob Sherman, Partakers of the Divine
(Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2014), pp. 163–204.
2 Although Cusa begins his discussion of an infinite line in the subjective tense
(‘if there were an infinite line…’), he shifts in the quotation referenced in the
following footnote to direct language about what an infinite line ‘actually’ is.
This ambiguous language prompts Cusa’s Thomist critic John Wenck to reject
the notion of an infinite line as a false assertion that can only lead to false
conclusions about God. In response, Cusa maintains that ‘the impossibility of
there actually being an infinite line is shown in many ways in Learned Igno-
rance’ and that it is meant as a way of instructing the reader on how best to
approach ‘the unqualifiedly Infinite’. See Jasper Hopkins, Nicholas of Cusa’s
Debate with John Wenck (Minneapolis, MN: Arthur J. Banning Press, 1981),
pp. 32, 63.
3 DI I.16 (45). Jasper Hopkins, Nicholas of Cusa on Learned Ignorance: A
Translation and an Appraisal of De Docta Ignorantia (Minneapolis, MN:
Arthur J. Banning Press, 1981). Cusa’s reference to symbolism here (and
throughout the text) is significant. Instead of the Thomistic doctrine of
analogical language, Cusa prefers to think of his mathematical illustrations
(using infinite geometrical figures to illustrate divine infinity) as symbolisms
that do not correspond directly to God, but might direct us to reflect on our
necessarily limited conception of God’s infinite being. For him, this is the
process of learned ignorance.
4 DI I.16 (45).
5 DI I.17 (47).
6 DI I.23 (73).
7 DI I.8 (22).
8 DI I.8 (22).
9 Here, Wenck reads Cusa as endorsing ‘an essential union of all things with
God’ and thereby collapsing the metaphysical distinction between God and
creation. Hopkins, Nicholas of Cusa’s Debate with John Wenck, pp. 26–7.
10 Indeed, this is the central insight of Cusa’s later work De Li Non Aliud,
in which God, as Not-other, is seen as the definition of all things, without
which nothing else would exist: ‘the positing of Not-other is the positing of
all things and its removal is the removal of all things [such that] other neither
exists nor is seen apart from Not-other’. Nicholas of Cusa, On God as Not
Other, trans. Jasper Hopkins (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota
Press, 1979), 7.26. On the point of the absolute dependence of creation on
God, and how this relates to participation, we might recall Aquinas’s view of
creation and participation whereby the one focus of existence is God and that
creation, which receives its existence from God at every moment, would be
nothing without God.
11 DI I.17 (51).
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 159
12 DI I.17 (51).
13 We might contrast Cusa’s move (removing participation from all beings to
leave only Being itself) with Boethius’s thought experiment in which God (the
first good) is removed to demonstrate that things are good only to the extent
that their being is produced by the first good. See Chapter 3.1 for further dis-
cussion of Boethius’s view of the apparent conflict between participation and
substantiality, as well as Aquinas’s response. We might also consider Cusa’s
tendency to approach God through negation and removal in light of the twen-
tieth-century Jewish existentialist Martin Buber’s insistence that God ‘is not
to be found by subtraction and not to be loved by reduction’. While Buber’s
language is un-Cusan, there is an unmistakably participatory spirit to his idea
that God is not just an object among objects, but the Being on which all other
objects depend. See Martin Buber, Between Man and Man, trans. Ronald
Gregor-Smith (London: Routledge, 2002), p. 67.
14 DI I.16 (45).
15 DI I.22 (67).
16 DI I.24 (75).
17 DI I.22 (68).
18 DI I.24 (77).
19 DI I.18 (52).
20 DI I.18 (52).
21 DI II.2 (98).
22 In the context of critics such as Wenck who direct the charge of pantheism
at Cusa, it is important to note that in this section of Book Two he explicitly
affirms that creation is not God. DI II.2 (100).
23 DI II.2 (102).
24 DI II.2 (103).
25 DI II.2 (103).
26 DI II.2 (103).
27 DI II.2 (104).
28 DI II.2 (104).
29 DI II.2 (104).
30 DI II.2 (104).
31 In a similarly evocative term, he claims that, since all things are the image of
the Infinite Form and have contingent differences, it is as if each created thing
‘were a god manqué’. DI II.2 (104).
32 DI II.3 (107). On this point, we might call to mind Aquinas’s related idea
that God exists in himself, whereas creation exists only by participation
in God.
33 DI I.24 (76).
34 DI I.22 (68).
35 DI II.3 (105–106).
36 DI II.3 (110).
37 DI I.24 (77).
38 DI II.3 (110).
39 DI II.3 (111).
40 DI II.3 (111).
41 DI II.4 (112).
42 DI II.4 (114).
43 DI II.3 (116).
44 Cusa refers to God as the Essence (or Quiddity) of things, along with Form of
forms and Being of beings, all of which express this dependence of creation
on creator. DI II.7 (130).
45 DI II.3 (116).
160 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
46 DI III.1 (183).
47 DI III.4 (203).
48 ‘De Sapientia’, in John Patrick Dolan (ed.) Unity and Reform: Selected
Writings of Nicholas of Cusa (University of Notre Dame Press, 1962), p. 114.
49 DS, p. 115.
50 DS, p. 115.
51 DS, p. 118.
52 DS, p. 118. Similarly, in De Coniecturis, completed in 1443 between De
Docta Ignorantia and De Sapientia, Cusa refers to the Divine Mind as the
‘most absolute preciseness of all things’ in which created things participate
differently and in terms of ‘otherness of variation’. This is because, as abso-
lute precision, it cannot be partaken of in itself; it is ‘partaken of by some-
thing other and, hence, is partaken of otherwise’. De Coniecturis, I.11 (55).
See Jasper Hopkins, De Coniecturis (On Surmises) by Nicholas of Cusa
(Minneapolis, MN: Arthur J. Banning Press, 2000).
53 DS, p. 119. In fact, Cusa goes on to suggest a theology of neither affirma-
tion nor negation, since God is above both: ‘Hence, following the way that
is above both the affirmative and the negative, it must be answered that He is
neither, namely absolute Entity; neither that He is not, nor simultaneously is
and is not, but rather that He is above both of these’.
54 DS, p. 123.
55 DS, p. 127.
56 ‘De Visione Dei’, in John Patrick Dolan (ed.) Unity and Reform: Selected
Writings of Nicholas of Cusa (University of Notre Dame Press, 1962), p. 133.
57 DVD, pp. 134–5.
58 DVD, p. 139.
59 DVD, p. 139. Later, Cusa claims that God, as Absolute Beauty itself, gives
being to every beautiful form. See p. 144.
60 DVD, p. 149.
61 DVD, p. 139.
62 DVD, p. 153.
63 DVD, p. 153.
64 DVD, pp. 170–1.
65 DVD, p. 171.
66 For Holder’s full discussion of these points, see Big Bang Big God, pp. 130–54;
God, the Multiverse, and Everything, pp. 113–29.
67 Holder, Big Bang Big God, p. 127.
68 Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison (New York, NY: Touchstone,
1997), p. 359.
69 Stenger, God and the Multiverse, p. 60.
70 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, pp. 76–8.
71 For Cusa, God is ‘everywhere and nowhere’ as the ‘circumference and center’
of the universe. The earth is not its centre, although it seems more central to
us. DI II.12 (162). This is the ‘perspectival’ character of Cusa’s cosmology, to
be discussed in the next section in terms of human identity.
72 Holder, Big Bang Big God, p. 40. Holder makes the same claim in an essay
on Georges Lemaître and Fred Hoyle. See Rodney Holder, ‘Georges Lemaître
and Fred Hoyle: contrasting characters in science and religion’, in Rodney
Holder and Simon Mitton (eds.), Georges Lemaître: Life, Science and Legacy
(London: Springer, 2013), p. 49.
73 Holder, Big Bang Big God, p. 126.
74 Holder, Big Bang Big God. p. 75.
75 Holder, Big Bang Big God, p. 75.
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 161
76 Collins, ‘Multiverse hypothesis: a theistic perspective’, p. 460. Since Collins
and Holder are both sympathetic to the analytical tradition, it is perhaps
unsurprising that they approach Aquinas and Cusa in particular and the
God-creation relationship in general with a certain inattentiveness to the role
of participation, which is sometimes seen by analytic thinkers as an insuffi-
ciently precise way of thinking about God.
77 Collins, ‘Multiverse hypothesis: a theistic perspective’, p. 460.
78 Holder, Big Bang Big God, pp. 133–6.
79 Holder, Big Bang Big God, p. 40.
80 David Hilbert, ‘On the infinite’, in Paul Benacerraf and Hilary Putnam (eds.),
Philosophy of Mathematics: Selected Readings (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press, 1983), p. 191.
81 Jasper Hopkins, A Concise Introduction to the Philosophy of Nicholas of
Cusa (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1978), pp. 30–31.
82 DI II.1 (91).
83 DI II.11 (156).
84 DI II.1 (96).
85 DI II.1 (97).
86 Karl Jaspers, The Great Philosophers (London: Rupert Hart-Davis, 1966),
p. 178.
87 DI II.1 (97).
88 Jaspers, The Great Philosophers, p. 185.
89 DI II.1 (97).
90 DI II.8 (137).
91 DI II.8 (139).
92 DI II.1 (97).
93 DI II.1 (97).
94 DI II.4 (114).
95 DI II.2 (104).
96 Holder, Big Bang Big God, p. 126.
97 Holder, Big Bang Big God, p. 40.
98 DI I.12 (33).
99 DI I.12 (33).
100 Catherine Keller, Cloud of the Impossible: Negative Theology and Planetary
Entanglement (New York, NY: Columbia University Press, 2015), p. 6.
101 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 5.
102 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 7.
103 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 48.
104 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 89.
105 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 121.
106 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 88. To the extent that she sees Cusa as an
early instance of what came to known as perspectivism (the view that there
are many different perspectives from which knowledge is developed), Keller
acknowledges that she is part of a broader modern trend in Cusan interpre-
tation. This includes Michel de Certeau, the French Jesuit who explores the
instances of shifting perspectives in Cusa’s work, and Karsten Harries, the
German philosopher whose recent work on infinity and perspective focuses
heavily on Cusa. See Michel de Certeau and Catherine Porter, ‘The Gaze:
Nicholas of Cusa’, in Diacritics 17, 3 (Autumn 1987): 6; Karsten Harries,
Infinity and Perspective (Boston, MA: MIT Press, 2001).
107 DI I.26 (87).
108 DI I.9 (26).
109 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 94.
162 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
110 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 94.
111 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 95.
112 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 95. Regrettably she does not elaborate on
this allusion to Aquinas, so the extent to which she recognises the significance
of Thomistic participation is uncertain.
113 For a useful introduction to this subject, see Lawrence Shapiro, Embodied
Cognition (New York, NY: Routledge, 2011).
114 For this reason, the German intellectual historian Hans Blumenberg asso-
ciates Cusa’s orientation towards knowledge of one’s ignorance with ‘the
modern idea of science’. Hans Blumenberg, The Legitimacy of the Modern
Age, trans. Robert M. Wallace (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1985), p. 499.
See pp. 483–548 for Blumenberg’s full argument that Cusa is a harbinger of
modernity.
115 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 113.
116 In a 2007 Harvard lecture in which she sketches some of the themes that
would later form the basis of Cloud of the Impossible, Keller suggests that
Cusa’s ‘theo-cosmology’ is ‘all the more suggestive now’ in light of modern
multiverse theory: ‘the Cusan boundlessness of a contingent or “contracted”
infinity turns out to be more in keeping with the conundrums of cosmic
immensity characteristic of contemporary astrophysics, with its speculations
on the inflationary universe, the possible multiverse, the mind-busting quan-
tities that comprise various relative infinities’. Catherine Keller, ‘The Cloud
of the Impossible: Feminist Theology, Cosmology and Cusa’. Lecture at Har-
vard University, March 22, 2007. See https://users.drew.edu/ckeller/essays/
Cloud%20of%20Harvard.doc.
117 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 86. In the spirit of postmodern uncer-
tainty, Rubenstein defines this as ‘a complex co-implication that shifts
according to your vision’.
118 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 114.
119 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 115.
120 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 115.
121 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 118.
122 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 82.
123 DI II.2 (104).
124 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 120.
125 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, pp. 121–2.
126 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, pp. 251–2. Similarly, in her earlier Harvard
lecture she admits that her project might entail an ‘un-Cusan preoccupation
with the current status of bodies… humiliated as female or disabled, gay or
dark; bodies human and nonhuman threatened with mass extinction’. Keller,
Harvard lecture, pp. 10–11.
127 DI I.17 (48).
128 DI I.17 (48).
129 DI III.1 (182).
130 DI III.1 (182).
131 DI III.1 (188).
132 DI III.1 (188).
133 DI II.5 (118).
134 Keller, Cloud of the Impossible, p. 121.
135 Keller, Harvard lecture, p. 12.
136 Keller, Harvard lecture, p. 3.
137 DI II.2 (103).
138 DI II.13 (177).
 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity 163
139 DI II.13 (177).
140 DI I.11 (31).
141 DI II.2 (104).
142 DI II.2 (104).
143 Karl Jaspers, The Great Philosophers: Volume 2 (London: Rupert Hart-
Davis, 1966), p. 192.
144 On this point, Simon Oliver (following Peter Harrison) argues that the rise
in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries of modern natural science signifi-
cantly altered and impoverished the traditional Christian doctrine of creation.
Instead of a traditional Christian insistence on creation’s utter dependence on
God, what remains is a God who can be put to one side and defined strictly
in terms of a world of scientific explanation. He believes that this unsatisfac-
tory legacy continues to influence and distort theological engagement with
science. See Oliver, Creation: A Guide for the Perplexed, pp. 91–132.
145 As part of this narrative (and of relevance to Chapter 2), Albertson explores
Plato’s philosophy of mathematics and the ‘theological possibilities’ of its
‘modified Phythagoreanism’ in which mathematics is reimagined as having
a mediating capacity, as providing a stepping stone to the intelligible forms
underlying physical reality. He aptly observes the mediating role of mathe-
matics in the Timaeus, as well as Plato’s use in the Philebus of metaphysical
participation as a way of seeking to bridge the finite and intelligible realms.
See David Albertson, Mathematical Theologies: Nicholas of Cusa and the
Legacy of Thierry of Chartres (New York, NY: Oxford University Press,
2014), pp. 30–35.
146 Albertson, Mathematical Theologies, p. 180.
147 Albertson, Mathematical Theologies, p. 253.
148 DI I.3 (10): ‘the intellect is to truth as polygon is to the inscribing circle’.
149 Albertson, Mathematical Theologies, p. 182.
150 DI I.11 (30).
151 DI I.24 (80).
152 Albertson, Mathematical Theologies, p. 182.
153 Albertson, Mathematical Theologies, p. 183.
154 DI II.13 (175).
155 Albertson, Mathematical Theologies, p. 183. This depiction of God as sole
mathematician is complicated by certain aspects of Cusa’s metaphysical
thought, which will be discussed below.
156 Albertson, Mathematical Theologies, p. 254.
157 DI I.3 (105).
158 Albertson, Mathematical Theologies, p. 254.
159 Albertson, Mathematical Theologies, p. 254.
160 DI I.11 (30).
161 DI I.11 (32).
162 DI I.11 (31).
163 DI I.11 (31).
164 DI I.12 (33).
165 DI I.16 (42).
166 DI I.17 (48).
167 DI I.17 (48).
168 DI I.17 (49).
169 DI I.18 (52).
170 DI I.18 (52). In this passage Cusa divides participants into substances and
accidents. Substances participate more immediately in God, while accidents
participate in God not through themselves but through the mediation of sub-
164 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity
stances. Just as a curve is more perfect as it participates in straightness, so
accidents become more perfect as they participate in a more excellent sub-
stance. He adds that it would be possible in an alternative forum to pursue a
more extensive inquiry regarding the difference between, and the excellence
of, accidents and substances.
171 Trialogus de Possest, 44. Jasper Hopkins, A Concise Introduction to the Phi-
losophy of Nicholas of Cusa (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota
Press, 1978).
172 De Beryllo (On Intellectual Eyeglasses), trans. Jasper Hopkins (Minneapolis,
MN: The Arthur J. Banning Press, 1998), 55.
173 De Beryllo, 56.
174 De Beryllo, 56.
175 Cusa’s account of mathematics proceeding from the human mind in this man-
ner need not complicate Albertson’s depiction of God as the ultimate or sole
mathematician. While mathematics is a human enterprise, it mirrors and is
suggestive of divine creativity and perfection, which ultimately lie beyond
human understanding.
176 Tegmark, Our Mathematical Universe (New York, NY: Vintage Books,
2015), p. 254. As discussed earlier, this is a radical and controversial view of
mathematical realism, widely disputed in physics and mathematics.
177 Tegmark, Our Mathematical Universe, p. 321.
178 Tegmark, Our Mathematical Universe, pp. 321–2.
179 Tegmark, Our Mathematical Universe, p. 323.
180 Tegmark, Our Mathematical Universe, p. 323.
181 Tegmark, Our Mathematical Universe, p. 336.
182 Tegmark, Our Mathematical Universe, p. 247.
183 Eugene Wigner, ‘The Unreasonable Effectiveness of Mathematics in the
Natural Sciences’, in Communications in Pure and Applied Mathematics,
Vol. 13, No. I (February 1960).
5 Concluding reflections

With the theological exploration undertaken in this book, my goal has

been to demonstrate that participatory metaphysics—the idea that creation
exists by participation in God—represents a highly productive methodolog-
ical outlook for theological reflection on scientific multiverse theory. The
participatory approach I have set out in this book, the first time such an
approach has been applied to a specific question within the contemporary
dialogue between theology and science, involved bringing the metaphysical
insights of three foundational participatory thinkers from ancient philoso-
phy and medieval Christianity into dialogue with modern multiverse advo-
cates and arguments. To that end, I constructively and critically engaged
with contemporary theologians, philosophers, and scientists, and in each
instance I offered ways to strengthen and enrich their considerations of
multiverse theory with a participatory approach. In that sense, I have pro-
vided a way to advance beyond the sterile and unpromising theological
preoccupation with questions about design that, as Rubenstein laments,
has defined the conversation to date. As an alternative, I have outlined a
new and substantive approach by which theologians might reevaluate the
multiverse hypothesis, which continues to be an important research area in
modern physics and cosmology.
In this concluding section, I will revisit and summarise the central the-
matic concerns and arguments of the core part of my theological exploration
in the three preceding chapters. I will then outline what I believe to be the
overall value of this book’s participatory outlook and how it represents a
new and productive approach to engaging theologically with the multiverse
hypothesis. Finally, I will propose ways in which both theologians and sci-
entists might draw on this participatory approach in service of continuing to
advance the theology and science dialogue in new and beneficial directions.

5.1 Plato on multiplicity

I began my exploration of participatory thinkers with consideration of the
dialogues of Plato, who may be regarded as the foundational exponent
of explicitly participatory thinking as it has developed in the history of

DOI: 10.4324/9781003014553-5
166 Concluding reflections
Christian theology and philosophy. As part of his participatory approach,
he is preoccupied with the complex structures of the universe, their inter-
relations, and their source and intelligibility. His Timaeus dialogue depicts
a beautiful and orderly universe that is the handiwork of divine rationality
and intelligence. This work lends itself to thinking about multiverses, since
the idea that our cosmos includes an enormous multiplicity of parts or
regions is central to multiverse theory. The core argument of this chapter
is that the recognition that there are many more parts to the universe than
previously imagined is not just a question for scientific or philosophical
accounts of mixture, but is central to Plato’s participatory vision of the
manifold parts of the cosmos participating in their perfect and eternal
source. To demonstrate how Platonic participatory metaphysics might illu-
minate our understanding of cosmic multiplicity, specifically as described
in multiverse models, I engaged with a theologian, a cosmologist, and a
philosopher, all of whom are deeply interested in multiplicity in Plato and
cosmic structures and yet all of whose work overlooks the critical partici-
patory character of his metaphysical approach.
First, I considered Mary-Jane Rubenstein’s treatment of multiplicity
in Plato’s cosmology. The decision to focus on Rubenstein as my first
interlocutor was not accidental—not only does this book itself serve as
a response to the ‘unscientific postscribble’ with which her multiverse
survey ends,1 but she is also attentive to the metaphysical dimensions of
both multiverse thought and Plato’s cosmology, though I believe that her
attention is misdirected in an excessively postmodern direction rather
than informed by a classical theological emphasis on participation. This
is an ironic oversight given her insistence that theological receptions of
multiverse thought have been insufficiently metaphysical. I argued that an
explicitly participatory account of the cosmological vision in the Timaeus
in general, and of the Receptacle in particular, would in fact be more in
keeping with her own demand for deeper metaphysical scrutiny of cosmic
multiplicity. As befitting her postmodernist style influenced by Derrida,
she too often lapses into language about ‘mixing the multiple’ by which
she means that the cosmos comprises many-layered mixing, emerging ‘as
a mixture of itself and what is not itself, of different and same, of “both/
and” and “neither/nor”’. 2
In response, I argued that Plato’s cosmology is not just a matter of mixing
things together like the ingredients in a cake, but lends itself to a participa-
tory understanding of sharing, imparting, and reception. This is embodied
by the Receptacle, the mysterious yet fundamental place which receives the
likenesses of eternal Forms. I applied this participatory understanding to
Laura Mersini-Houghton’s concept of a connected multiverse, which she
describes in strikingly participatory language. Further, I noted that mul-
tiverse theorists like Mersini-Houghton cannot avoid using participatory
concepts and so inescapably find themselves bearing witness to the partic-
ipatory tradition. As a consequence, theologians (and perhaps scientists)
 Concluding reflections 167
should acknowledge this dynamic and consider its integration in the inter-
disciplinary discourse on theology and multiverse thought.
Second, I critically evaluated Max Tegmark’s idiosyncratic interpreta-
tion of Platonism and its implications for Level IV of his multiverse hier-
archy. On Tegmark’s reading of Plato, mathematics is the highest form of
knowledge, whereas it is more properly seen in the Timeaus as serving an
important mediating role in bridging the sensible and intelligible realms. In
describing his Level IV multiverse, Tegmark invokes Plato to claim that all
mathematical structures exist physically, though in the Timeaus mathemat-
ics provides the model for the physical cosmos, but this cosmos is distinct
from its non-physical, intelligible source. Tegmark also believes that Level
IV universes are disconnected and have different fundamental equations
of physics, yet Plato’s cosmos of multiplicity shares a single eternal source
and operates according to a single mathematical structure. In light of these
discrepancies, I concluded that Tegmark’s account of Platonism compli-
cates and undermines his Level IV multiverse, which is in any event the
most needlessly provocative level of his hierarchy and whose controversial
nature provides a rich target for theologians seeking to reject multiverse
thinking. To advance the theological reception of multiverse theory more
constructively, I proposed that a participatory reading of Platonism is more
consistent with, and can enrich, the other levels of his hierarchy, suggesting
as it does a diverse yet interconnected cosmos, which shares in a common
ground and operates according to consistent mathematical principles.
Third, I considered Verity Harte’s mereological project, not least because
it represents one of the most systematic and sophisticated recent accounts of
the cosmological and metaphysical aspects of Plato’s Timaeus. I observed
that, as with Mersini-Houghton’s scientific model of connected multiverses,
Harte’s account of Plato’s metaphysics of structure is implicitly participatory
in its concepts and language. In particular, her depiction of the Receptacle
as that upon which contentful structure is imposed consistently makes use
of participatory terms, such as imitation, reception, and traces. While Harte
has a useful sense of what might be called ‘intra-finite’ participation—the
participation of parts in one another—I argued that we should consider how
participation in a transcendent source, informed by Plato’s account of the
manifold parts of the cosmos participating in an eternal model, would be
of relevance to the Level II multiverse of inflationary bubbles coming forth
from the same source. In that sense, I drew on an underdeveloped strand of
participatory thinking in her work in order to highlight new ways of thinking
about a multiverse model from a theological perspective.

5.2 Aquinas on diversity

Following Plato, I turned in Chapter 3 to consideration of metaphysical
participation in Aquinas, one of the pivotal exponents of the participatory
tradition in Western theology. For Aquinas, creation is necessarily diverse
168 Concluding reflections
since it is only as such that it can participate in God’s unity and simplicity
in a diversity of ways. Each diverse part of creation shares in the fullness of
God’s being according to its own nature, and is thereby utterly dependent
on God for its existence. The core argument of this chapter is that such a
participatory vision is not only consistent with the kind of extraordinary
cosmic diversity evident in multiverse theory, but also provides a strong
metaphysical basis for the intelligibility, order, and beauty of this diver-
sity. To develop this argument, I considered the work of three important
thinkers working at the intersection of theology, philosophy, and science,
and whose multiverse reflections can be enhanced with closer attention to
Thomistic participation.
First, I engaged with the work of Robin Collins, who is one of the lead-
ing theological advocates of the plausibility of multiverse theory. Given
this, it is perhaps surprising that his awareness of the importance of
diversity in Thomistic metaphysics is evident in his discussion of multiple
incarnations, but not in the context of his consideration of the multiverse
hypothesis. I highlighted that Aquinas sees diversity as a fundamental
characteristic of the cosmos, reflecting the diverse ways in which all
parts of creation participate in God, the source of existence on which all
of creation is utterly dependent. I also stressed that, in Aquinas’s view,
creation is diverse by necessity, since imperfect created beings can only
approach and participate in God in a multitude of diverse ways. This
participatory insight can serve as a counterweight to theological mul-
tiverse critics who dismiss the idea of an immensely diverse and expan-
sive cosmos as too arbitrary or inexplicable. I then applied the notion
of diversity in Thomistic participatory metaphysics to the string theory
landscape proposal, a multiverse theory in which diversity is paramount.
I observed that string theory gives powerful scientific expression to the
cosmic diversity and intelligibility that are such crucial elements of par-
ticipation in Aquinas.
Second, I critiqued Don Page’s theistic account of the multiverse hypoth-
esis, which (like Collins) is insufficiently metaphysical and which (also like
Collins) regards string theory as indicative of the beauty of cosmic multi-
plicity. I demonstrated that Aquinas’s metaphysical notion of beauty, an
important aspect of his participatory thought, would strengthen Page’s own
concepts of God and creation. For Aquinas, beauty is evident in the par-
ticipatory order of being, with a diversity of beings participating in God’s
being in different ways. I proposed that Aquinas’s participatory account of
the beauty of the created order offers a supplement to Page’s more narrow
conception of the beauty of the selection mechanism that gives rise to a
diversity of cosmic realms in string theory. This emphasis on the inherent
beauty and goodness of God’s creation may also provide a rejoinder to crit-
icisms of multiverse theory on aesthetic grounds, enabling us to maintain
that a vastly expanded view of cosmic diversity need not preclude notions
of beauty, elegance, and goodness.
 Concluding reflections 169
Third, I challenged Bernard Carr’s problematic image of the cosmic
uroborus on the basis that it presents a vague and metaphysically limited
conception of unity, thereby failing to provide the kind of fundamental
model for the multiverse that he desires. Instead, I offered Aquinas’s the-
ological circle of being, which expresses the movement of creatures who
have received being from God and ultimately return to God, as a superior
alternative model that more adequately conveys the unity and purpose of
a cosmos grounded in a transcendent creator than Carr’s strictly cosmo-
logical vision. While Carr stands out among scientific multiverse theorists
in terms of acknowledging the importance of humanity in the cosmos and
arguing for the compatibility of God and the multiverse, his approach is
at once theologically timid and conceptually ambiguous. With attention
to Aquinas’s participatory creation account, I highlighted a way to situate
Carr’s notions of cosmic unity and interconnectedness on firmer metaphys-
ical foundations.

5.3 Nicholas of Cusa on infinity

Finally, in Chapter 4 I examined the profound and at times mystifying
metaphysical and cosmological thought of Nicholas of Cusa, a key par-
ticipatory thinker often overlooked in contemporary theology and science
discourse. Cusa’s prayerful contemplation of the participatory relationship
between cosmic infinity and divine infinity is of clear relevance to the mul-
tiverse debate, with its intimations of infinite or infinitely many cosmic
regions. The core argument of this chapter is that, for Cusa, the infinity of
the universe stands as an image or a participation in the infinity of God,
and that this more qualified form of infinity and its dependence on the
divine ground of perfect infinity is important to remember when consider-
ing cosmic infinity. Here I engaged with a theologically informed scientist,
a theologian, and a philosopher, who each share an interest in Cusa’s cos-
mology, as well as misapprehensions about the metaphysical and participa-
tory basis of his idea of infinity and its potential application to multiverse
thought.
First, I provided a response to Rodney Holder’s view of infinity in Cusa’s
cosmology, which Holder identifies as a notable historical precursor to
modern multiverse models. In common with other theological multiverse
critics, and perhaps understandably as a result of Cusa’s distinctively enig-
matic, opaque, and prayerful mode of expression, Holder neglects the par-
ticipatory character of Cusa’s metaphysical system, in which the universe is
an image whose infinity is of an imitative nature. Against Holder’s reading
of Cusa that the universe is infinite in the conventionally understood sense,
I noted that Cusa’s universe is potentially infinite; his mystical approach,
to the extent it can be interpreted, is more concerned with an orientation
towards infinity, rather than actual infinity. The cosmos is unbounded in
the sense of the possibility of spatial or numerical endlessness, but this is
170 Concluding reflections
distinct from God’s perfect simplicity and infinity. As such, I argued that
Cusa should not be regarded as an example of the (alleged) problem of
infinity in multiverse thought, but as offering some useful metaphysical
resources to negotiate the kind of conceptual concerns that Holder himself
puts forward.
Second, I presented an alternative participatory reading of Cusa
to Catherine Keller’s reception of his cosmology, which (in line with
Rubenstein) is preoccupied with its apparent relevance to a postmodern
multiplicity of entangled perspectives. Rather than associating Cusa with
postmodern notions of interrelation and perspectivism to help advance her
own vision of political and social renewal, I highlighted the importance
of his participatory imperative of transcending our limited perspectives
within a vastly expanded cosmos and ultimately coming to know and love
God. Cusa sees each being in the boundless cosmos in its own unique good-
ness, as an image and participant in God’s infinity. This is a rich cosmo-
logical vision in which we each share in the ground of the universe while
remaining fundamentally ourselves. Keller’s attempt to impose a postmod-
ern construction on Cusa’s cosmology (an attempt which she herself admits
is anachronistic) follows directly from her neglect of the participatory char-
acter of his metaphysical thought.
Third, I critically engaged with David Albertson, whose comprehensive
account of the historical roots of Cusa’s mathematical theology is mas-
terful in demonstrating Cusa’s continued relevance to a world that is ever
more mathematised. However, I noted that Albertson overlooks the role
of participatory metaphysics in Cusa’s conception of mathematics; it is not
merely a descriptive practice, but also a guide for metaphysical speculation
and ascent to the infinite God. I argued that Albertson’s neglect of the
metaphysical role of mathematics in Cusa is also of relevance to Tegmark’s
multiverse thought, which (as discussed earlier) is based on a curious
understanding of mathematics. As an alternative to Tegmark’s problematic
Level IV insistence on mathematical democracy, I proposed that a properly
Cusan approach would be to imagine a Level I universe in which the infin-
ity of the cosmos and the infinite mathematical figures used for its descrip-
tion are seen as expressions of God’s infinity.

5.4 The value of this book’s approach

I believe that the value of this book to the theology and science debate
is threefold. First, I have outlined a new pathway to move the currently
unproductive multiverse debate in contemporary science and theology
beyond its narrow preoccupation with design. If, as is increasingly believed
by cosmologists, there is a multiverse of the kind depicted by any of the
current cosmological models, then this raises profound metaphysical issues
about the relationship between other universes and ours, as well as between
these universes and God. Such considerations are surely more urgent and
 Concluding reflections 171
indeed paramount than simply reducing debates about the multiverse to
an updated version of the familiar dispute over whether the cosmos is or
is not divinely designed. I hope that this book might help to bring about
a theological turn to a more focused and constructive engagement with
metaphysical issues such as multiplicity, diversity, infinity, part-whole rela-
tions, universals, and the God-creation relationship within the context of
the multiverse hypothesis. As the multiverse hypothesis continues to gain
prominence in the scientific community, it will be important for theologi-
ans to be prepared to address its real metaphysical significance for God and
creation, rather than retreating into a defensive crouch of dismissing the
multiverse proposal on the basis that it supposedly negates divine design.
Second, throughout this book’s theological exploration I have articulated
a participatory approach and I highlighted many ways in which the meta-
physical tradition of participation might be newly relevant, not just theo-
logically but also scientifically. As discussed in Chapter 1, participation had
until recent years fallen into relative disuse among theologians and philos-
ophers. Yet its inextricable link with issues such as multiplicity, diversity,
and part-whole relations means that it is surprisingly relevant to multiverse
thought. By underlining the centrality of participation to a productive the-
ological engagement with multiverse theory, I hope that this book helps to
introduce an enormously valuable and wrongly neglected theological tradi-
tion to the theology and science field, while also prompting theologians to
reconsider the history and meaning of participation so that it might be used
to help further reflect on the relationship between God and creation. As a
byproduct of this participatory outlook, I hope that I have also succeeded
in demonstrating the extent to which the theology and science dialogue can
be enriched by ancient and medieval resources. It is a regrettable feature of
this dialogue that it tends only to make cursory references to central fig-
ures in the history of Christian theology, despite the fact that such figures
have often considered issues of direct relevance to current scientific debates.
The recent and growing theological interest in the multiverse (discussed
in Chapter 1) is itself evidence of the urgent need for greater theological
depth, yet multiverse treatments in contemporary theology invariably focus
on design or similarly marginal issues at the expense of drawing deeply on
thinkers and traditions from earlier periods in history.
Third, and perhaps of most consequence in terms of methodology, I have
offered an alternative and specifically theological approach to the theology
and science dialogue. It might seem redundant or self-evident to clarify that
a theologian would seek primarily to bring theological tools and insights
to this interdisciplinary arena. Yet, as discussed in the opening section of
Chapter 1, the very meaning of the study of ‘theology and science’ is subject
to ongoing and vigorous academic debate, with science-engaged theology
and postmodernism each offering powerful solutions to the challenging the-
ological landscape of modernity, in which science has displaced religion as
the dominant source of authority. While science-engaged theology allows
172 Concluding reflections
science to set the terms of reference and postmodern all too often dissolves
into uncertainty and nothingness, I have presented in this book a different
way of approaching theology and science, which draws unapologetically on
the immense theological resources of the Western and Christian traditions.
In this case, drawing on the Platonic and Christian participatory tradition,
I have offered a theological account of a sacramental and participatory
cosmos whose many and varied signs convey theological truths about its
origin and ultimate goal. I believe that this kind of theological approach
to theology and science allows for the possibility of faith and a supporting
metaphysics and cosmology, which is the only viable way forward for the-
ology in an age in which science claims to account for all of nature, while
postmodern points to nihilism.

5.5 Future directions for theology and science

Though the first sustained theological effort to bring a participatory per-
spective to multiverse thought, there are of course many ways in which
the ideas in this book can be developed in new research directions. While
I believe that Plato, Aquinas, and Nicholas of Cusa are three of the most
remarkable participatory thinkers in Western theology, there are other
extremely significant figures whose participatory insights would be appli-
cable to the key themes of cosmic multiplicity, diversity, and infinity. For
example, the idea of participation is critical to the thought of the late fifth
or early sixth century Christian Neoplatonist theologian Pseudo-Dionysius
the Areopagite3 and one of the most important Church Fathers in Western
Christianity, Augustine of Hippo,4 as well as medieval theologians such
as Anselm of Canterbury5 and Bonaventure.6 Given the recent renewal in
theological interest in participation (as discussed in Chapter 1), it would be
worthwhile to explore the extent to which these figures can be brought into
dialogue with contemporary multiverse models.
Furthermore, I hope that the exploration undertaken in this book might
encourage others to apply a participatory outlook to other key questions in
the theology and science dialogue. While the focus of this book has been
the multiverse hypothesis, it would be possible to imagine a similar project
in which participatory insights were brought into contact with evolutionary
biology. Perhaps, for example, the change in characteristics of species over
successive generations through evolutionary processes might be understood
as a dynamic process, indicative of the necessity for a diverse creation to
approach and share in God in a multitude of ways over time.7 Alternatively,
we might apply participatory insights to artificial intelligence, particularly
the ‘value learning problem’, which refers to the idea that AIs must be
designed to learn, adopt, and retain our goals.8 Here, it would be possible
to adopt a distinctive theological approach in which values are understood
not as self-standing systems, but as entwined with the natural (and perhaps
artificial) order as a consequence of their common, participatory origin in
 Concluding reflections 173
God. This would put AI in a deeper context than the somewhat narrow
focus on value systems (such as utilitarianism) that often prevails in AI
discourse. Just as participation has been shown here to be a surprisingly
effective way of showing continuity between theology and the multiverse
proposal, perhaps it might also emerge as a promising way in which theol-
ogy and science can interact across a broad range of issues.
In terms of the potential scientific reception of this book, I hope that it
has been useful in demonstrating that core multiverse notions of cosmic
multiplicity, diversity, and infinity are not new in the history of Western
thought and have in fact been the basis of theological reflection and spec-
ulation since the ancient and medieval periods. In particular, I have also
illustrated the remarkable extent to which the vocabulary, imagery, catego-
ries, and ideas in multiverse discourse have been either explicitly or implic-
itly participatory, with scientists often employing participatory terms, such
as traces, intimations, sharing, and mixing. This might encourage scientists
to reflect on the possibility that the boundaries between multiverse thought
and metaphysics are not always as clear as is often scientifically assumed.
In turn, this might create an opportunity for scientists to reconsider the
value of metaphysics, if this value had previously been doubted, or at least
to acknowledge that the multiverse hypothesis inescapably encompasses
metaphysical concerns.
In addition, I believe that important questions or opportunities for new
scientific ways of thinking about the multiverse have been raised through-
out this book. For example, scientists might reflect on what precisely it
means to believe that there are different ‘parts’ of a multiverse, or different
cosmic realms that might originate from a common source, particularly in
light of the participatory idea that different parts stand in relation to each
other and ultimately in relation to God, the source and origin of being.
They might also give renewed consideration to what it means to speak of
cosmic diversity in relation to Level II bubbles or string theory landscapes,
if that diversity is understood to be a necessary part of how an imperfect
creation approaches a perfect God. This, in turn, might have implications
for scientific views on the necessity, the aesthetic value, and the selection
principles underlying multiverse models. Furthermore, scientists might fur-
ther reflect on what cosmic infinity might mean in relation to divine infin-
ity, especially on a participatory view that our (potentially) infinite cosmic
realm might stand as an image or participation in the perfect simplicity of
an infinite creator.
The central argument of this book is that a participatory account of
the relationship between God and creation argues for greater continu-
ity between theology and the multiverse proposal. In Chapter 1, I noted
Bernard Carr’s memorable response to the apparent fine-tuning of our own
universe with his appeal to the multiverse as a scientific solution to the
unwelcome intrusion of theology. As he put it, ‘If you don’t want God,
you’d better have a multiverse’. In fact, the multiverse proposal cannot be
174 Concluding reflections
so easily disconnected from, or advanced as an alternative to, theology. In
light of the participatory approach outlined in this book, in which cosmic
multiplicity, diversity, and infinity are understood to be intelligible expres-
sions of the manner in which creation shares in God, perhaps it would be
more apt to conclude that ‘if you want a multiverse, you’d better have God’.

Notes
1 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, pp. 235–36. Again, this relates to her
insight that theological engagement with multiverse thought should move
beyond narrow questions about design and give more weight to metaphysical
considerations.
2 Rubenstein, Worlds Without End, p. 26.
3 Pseudo-Dionysius, The Complete Works, trans. Colm Luibheid (Mahwah,
NJ: Paulist Press, 1987). For a collection of new theories and interpretations
of Dionysius, including extensive discussion of his participatory ideas, see
Sarah Coakley and Charles Stang (eds.), Re-thinking Dionysius the Areop-
agite (Chichester, West Sussex: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009).
4 Augustine, Confessions, trans. Henry Chadwick (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2008).
5 Anselm, Monologion and Proslogion, trans. Thomas Williams (Indianapolis,
IN: Hackett Publishing Company, 1996).
6 Bonaventure, Breviloquium (Works of St. Bonaventure, Vol. 9), Dominic V.
Monti (ed.), (St. Bonaventure, NY: The Franciscan Institute, 2005).
7 Drawing on the thought of Aquinas, Andrew Davison has related participa-
tion and evolution, with particular attention to the idea that creatures imitate
divine ideas and perfections. See Andrew Davison, ‘“He Fathers-forth Whose
Beauty Is Past Change”, but “Who Knows How?” Evolution and Divine
Exemplarity’, Nova et Vetera, 16.4 (2018), 1057–92.
8 For an illuminating discussion of the scientific and ethical basis of goals
in AI, see Max Tegmark, Life 3.0: Being Human in the Age of Artificial
Intelligence (New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf, 2017), pp. 249–80.
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Index

absolute beauty 25, 43, 47 Augustine of Hippo 172

Absolute Maximum 123, 128, 129 Avicebron 93
absolute oneness 128, 130, 145 axioms 14
Absolute Quiddity 128–129
absurdity 19–20 Bacon, Francis 28–29
accidental participation 88; see also Bayesian probability theory: Collins’s
Thomistic participation use of 117n54; Holder’s use of 18
Albertson, David: on Cusa’s beauty: Aquinas on 103–105, 106;
mathematical theology 148–152, brightness or clarity 104–105;
153, 154, 156, 157; Mathematical integrity or perfection 104; Linde on
Theologies 148; on medieval 82n143; multiverse applications
theology 148; on Pythagorean 105–106; Page on 101–103,
philosophy 149; on quadrivium 105–106; Plato on 43, 47–48;
150, 151 proportion or harmony 104
algorithmic complexity theory Being 124–125; see also God
18–19 beings, Socrates’ fourfold classification
Anaxagoras 42, 43 of 46–47
animal and humans, participatory Big Bang 12, 108
relationship 87–88; see also black holes 12, 100
Thomistic participation Boethius 84, 86–89, 90
Anselm of Canterbury 172 Bohr, Niels 13
anthropic principle/fine-tunings 6, 7–8, Bonaventure 172
9, 20 Bonhoeffer, Dietrich 134
Aquinas, Thomas 5, 7–8, 24, Book One of De Docta Ignorantia
26–27, 30, 83–84; commentary (Nicholas of Cusa) 123–126, 127,
on Boethius’s De Hebdomadibus 128, 129, 130, 150, 151
86–89; De Spiritualibus Creaturis Book Three of De Docta Ignorantia
84, 93; De Substantiis Separatis 84, (Nicholas of Cusa) 123, 129,
93–94; Summa Contra Gentiles 83, 131, 137
84, 86, 89–90; Summa Theologiae Book Two of De Docta Ignorantia
7–8, 83, 84, 85, 91–93, 96–97, 104, (Nicholas of Cusa) 123, 125,
110; see also diversity; Thomistic 126–129, 130, 137, 150
participation braneworld 12
Aristotelian paradigm 15 brightness 104–105
Aristotle 26, 38n124, 44–45, 54, 62, Bruno, Giordano 55, 95, 134
87, 152
arithmetical Trinity 149 Carr, Bernard: anthropic principle 9;
artificial intelligence (AI) 172–173 Aquinas’s circle of being 110–113;
artistry and creativity 20–21 cosmic uroborus 107–113; on
 Index 183
meaning of multiverse 6; outward journey 108, 109, 111; outward
journey 6, 21, 102, 107, 109, journey 107–108, 109, 111
111, 112 cosmology 1, 6–15; see also multiverse
causal participation 84, 88–90, hypothesis; participation
98, 104 Craig, William Lane 17
Christ 123; human intelligence in 132; creation: Aquinas’s participatory
as the Maximum 129 insights into 83–94, 98–113;
Christian theology: mathematics and Collins’s argument 95–97, 135;
149–151; Pythagoreanism 149, 151, Cusa’s participatory insights into
154; see also theology and multiverse 123–132, 136, 139; Leslie’s account
thought of 22; see also God; diversity;
Church 17 infinity (cosmic and divine), Cusa’s
circle of being, Aquinas’s account of notion of
110–113; Carr’s cosmic uroborus criticism of multiverse thought 16–20;
and 110, 111–113; circular absurdity and non-intelligibility
movement of emanation and return 19–20; design 16–17; extravagance
to God 110–111; components of and profligacy 17–19
110; science/scientific progress and Cusa see Nicholas of Cusa
112–113
Clarke, W. Norris 85, 111, 117n56, dark energy 12
121n122 Davies, Paul 18–19, 21, 22, 36n85
Collins, Robin 134, 135, 161n76, 168; Dawkins, Richard 19
Bayesian probability and 117n54; De Docta Ignorantia (Nicholas of
conception of God as creative artist Cusa) 123–131, 138; Book One
95–96, 98–99, 116n44; on diversity 123–126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 150,
83, 94–99, 101, 103, 113–114; 151; Book Three 123, 129, 131, 137;
doctrine of creation ex nihilo Book Two 123, 125, 126–129, 130,
117n48; on incarnation 94, 96–97; 137, 150
multiverse hypothesis 20, 94–97 De Hebdomadibus (Boethius) 84,
composition, Harte’s theory of 68–70, 86–89
74, 75 Derrida, Jacques 55, 57, 166
connected multiverse 41, 54, 58–61, design 16–17
75, 166–167; entanglement 58, 59; De Spiritualibus Creaturis (Aquinas)
inflation and 58; Plato’s Receptacle 84, 93
59–60; pre-inflationary cosmic bath De Substantiis Separatis (Aquinas) 84,
58–60; string landscape 58–59; 93–94
unitarity principle of quantum De Visione Dei (Nicholas of Cusa)
mechanics 58, 59 129, 131–132
contracted infinity, Cusa’s concept diminished participation 90
of 133, 134, 136–139; Hopkins on diversity 29–30, 83–114, 167–169;
136–137 beauty and elegance 101–106; Carr’s
convergence, theory of 19–20 cosmic uroborus 114; Collins’s
Copenhagen Interpretation 13–14 account of 83, 94–99, 101, 103,
Copernicus, Nicolaus 28, 107, 113–114; Page’s account of 101–103,
134–135 105–106, 113–114; string theory
cosmic diversity see diversity 99–101, 102–103, 105–106;
cosmic infinity see infinity Thomistic participatory metaphysics
cosmic inflation see inflation 84–94, 96–101, 104
cosmic multiplicity see multiplicity
cosmic unity see unity Eckhart, Meister 29
cosmic uroborus, Carr’s notion of ekpyrotic universe 12
unity 107–109; human knowledge Ellis, George 8–9, 11, 14–15, 22, 136
and 109; image 108–109; inward empirical science 3
184 Index
enfolding, Cusa’s concept of 125, hierarchy of multiverses (Tegmark)
127–128, 131, 143; see also 9–15; Level I 10–11; Level II 11–13;
unfolding, Cusa’s concept of Level III 13–14; Level IV 14–15;
entropy of the universe 18 see also specific level
essence, Aquinas’s distinction between Hilbert, David 136
existence and 27, 85–86 Holder, Rodney: God, the Multiverse,
Everett, Hugh 13 and Everything 133; on infinity
evolution 12 in Cusa’s cosmology 132–140; on
existence, Aquinas’s distinction multiverse hypothesis 18, 133–136,
between essence and 27, 85–86 139–140, 156–157; use of Bayesian
extravagance and profligacy 14, 17–18 probability theory 18
holographic multiverse 143–144
First Being 92, 93, 97, 98; see also God homogenous universe 28
Forms, Plato’s theory of 15, 43–45; Hopkins, Jasper 136–137
Aristotle on 26; of Beauty 25, 41, horizontal or intra-finite participation
42; of the Good 25; intelligible realm 70, 71, 74, 76
of 42, 43; as ontologically different human consciousness 107, 109,
24, 42; in Parmenides 44–45; as 112–113
patterns in nature 44; in Phaedo human uniqueness 141, 146–148, 157
43, 44, 57; philosophical issues 15;
physical world as participating in incarnation 111; Collins on 94,
25; relational order 24–25; see also 96–97; in mathematical terms
Platonic participatory metaphysics 149, 151
Forrest, Peter 21, 37n104 individuality 144–146, 147
infinite line 123–126, 144–145, 152,
Galilei, Galileo 28, 108 155, 158n2; as essence of a finite line
geocentrism 134–135 124–125, 144; as infinite line 125;
God 1; as Absolute Maximum 123, mathematical symbolism of 124,
128, 129; as Absolute Quiddity 125, 130–131; as measure of all
128–129; anthropic principle 6, 7, lines 125
8; Aquinas’s participatory insights infinity 22; Ellis’s notion of 9; as a
83–94; artistry and creativity 20–21; mathematic or scientific concept 114;
Carr’s view 8; circle of being NASA on 114; spatial 10–11
110–113; Collins’s conception of infinity (cosmic and divine), Cusa’s
95–97; glance 131; goodness and notion of 114, 122–157, 169–170;
beauty 103–106; mathematical act of seeing 131–132; contracted or
mysticism 149; as Maximum private 133, 134, 136–139; enfolding
Equality 150; oneness/unity and unfolding 127–128, 131, 143;
91; as Platonic principle 22; Holder’s reading of 133–136,
postmodernism 4; Schönborn’s view 139–140, 156–157; image 126–129;
17; as self-subsisting being 91, 92, infinite line 123–126; Keller’s
93, 97; see also creation; infinity postmodern interpretation 78n54,
(cosmic and divine), Cusa’s notion 140–147, 157; likeness 131–132;
of; Thomistic participation mathematics/mathematical theology
God, the Multiverse, and Everything 148–156; precision 130–131;
(Holder) 133 wisdom 130
gravity 12, 58 inflation 7, 58, 72–75; cosmic regions
Greene, Brian 14, 34n35, 80n89, 100, with higher rates of 73; Linde’s
101, 118n73 idea of 73; Mersini-Houghton’s
investigation on origin of 58
Hawking, Stephen 11, 20, 33n17, inflationary multiverse theory 72–75
101, 107 ingression 29
Heisenberg, Werner 13 intelligence 45–46
 Index 185
interconnectedness/interconnectivity mathematical democracy 14, 62, 154,
107, 108–109, 110, 111; see also 156, 170
unity mathematical mysticism 149
interrelation 140–147; holographic mathematical structure 14–15; defined
multiverse 143–144; human 14; Page on 15; see also Level IV
uniqueness 141, 146–148; (Tegmark’s multiverse hierarchy)
individuality 144–146, 147 Mathematical Theologies
intra-finite participation see horizontal (Albertson) 148
or intra-finite participation mathematics: algorithmic complexity
inward journey 108, 111 theory 18–19; Plato on 63–64;
Socrates on 64
Kant, Immanuel 29, 39n133 mathematics and physical reality
Keller, Catherine: Cloud of the (Tegmark and Platonism)
Impossible: Negative Theology and 61–68; cosmological patterns of
Planetary Entanglement 141; on participation 66; Forms of the
Cusa’s infinity 78n54, 140–147, 157; intelligible realm 63–64; Level
on interrelation and perspectivism IV multiverse model 62–68;
140–148; on learned ignorance participatory vision in Timaeus
141–142; modern perspectivism 65–66; Theory of Everything (TOE)
142–143 62–63; time and eternity 66
Kraay, Klaas J. 21, 78n55, 96 mathematics/mathematical theology
Krauss, Lawrence 135 of Cusa 148–156; Albertson’s study
of 148–152, 153, 154, 156, 157;
learned ignorance, Cusa’s notion of metaphysical participation and
131, 132, 135, 150; Keller’s idea on 151–153; relevance to Tegmark’s
141–142 mathematical universe 154–156;
Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm 29 symbolism 152–153
Leslie, John 21, 22 matter, Avicebron’s doctrine of
Level I (Tegmark’s multiverse universality of 93
hierarchy) 10–11, 13; assumptions Maximum 124
10–11; defined 10; laws of physics 10 mereology (Harte on Plato’s
Level II (Tegmark’s multiverse metaphysics of structure) 68–75,
hierarchy) 11–13; inflationary 81n118; composition and structure
multiverse theory 72–75; string 69–70; concept 68–69; participatory
theory and 12, 13; sub-levels 12 metaphysics 70–72; reading of the
Level III (Tegmark’s multiverse Timaeus 69–72; Receptacle 72;
hierarchy) 13–14 Tegmark’s Level II multiverse 72–75
Level IV (Tegmark’s multiverse Mersini-Houghton, Laura 41, 54,
hierarchy) 14–15; mathematical 58–61, 75, 79n78, 166–167; see also
structures 14, 15, 62–63; Platonic connected multiverse
participatory metaphysics and 66–68; metaphysical participation see
as ultimate ensemble theory 14 participation
Linde, Andrei 73, 82n143 Metaphysics (Aristotle) 26
logical participation 87–88 methexis 76n1; see also participation
love (Platonic) 25–26, 47–48; absolute methodology 2–5
beauty 25, 43, 47; participatory Milbank, John 39n138
metaphysics 47–48; physical beauty Morris, Simon Conway 19–20
25, 47 M-theory 11, 12; see also string theory
multiplicity 40–76, 165–167; Harte’s
Mann, Robert B. 19 discussion of structure 68–75;
Manson, Neil 17 inflationary multiverse theory 72–75;
many worlds interpretation (MWI) Mersini-Houghton’s connected
13–14 multiverse 58–61; overview 40–41;
186 Index
participation (Plato’s notion and Page, Don: on beauty and elegance
works) 41–53; Rubenstein’s views of string theory 101, 102–103,
on 53–58; Tegmark’s mathematics 105–106; on mathematical structure
61–68 15; multiverse hypothesis 9, 21, 84,
multiverse hypothesis 1–2; absurdity 101–103; on Tegmark’s multiverse
and non-intelligibility 19–20; hierarchy 102
artistry and creativity 20–21; Paley, William 8
Carr’s view 6, 8, 9, 21; Collins’s Parmenides (Plato) 43–45, 48, 57, 69,
view 20, 94–97; Craig’s view 17; 70, 77n11, 82n136
Davies’s view 18–19; Dawkins’s participation 23–31; Bacon on 28–29;
view 19; design 16–17; Ellis’s view concept of 23–24; Cusa on 123–133;
8–9, 14–15; extravagance and diversity of 29–30; Harte’s theory
profligacy 17–19; Forrest’s view 21; of 70–72; Kant on 29; Leibniz
Holder’s view 18; Leslie’s view 22; on 29; multiverse applicability
Mann’s view 19; Manson’s view 30–31; overview 4–6; Sherman
17; as a metaphysical assumption on 29; theologically suggestive
9; Morris’s view 19–20; Page on 9, ideas 30; Tillich on 29; see also
21, 84, 101–103; Rees’s view 8, 9; infinity (cosmic and divine), Cusa’s
Rubenstein’s view 1–2, 16, 40–41, notion of; Platonic participatory
53–58; Schönborn’s argument metaphysics; Thomistic participation
16–17; scientific legitimacy of participatory metaphysics 4
8–9; scientific origins of 6–8; Penrose, Roger 18, 36n84
Siegfried’s view 6; single universe perceptual knowledge 142–143
model 12; Stenger’s view 19; perspectivism 140–148; see also
Tegmark’s hierarchy 9–15; tentative interrelation
metaphysics 22; theological Phaedo (Plato) 25, 42–43, 44, 57,
engagement with 20–22; theological 79n69
objections to 16–20; Ward’s view Philebus (Plato) 46–47, 48, 80–81n109
17–18, 20; see also participation physical constants 33n12, 74;
musical harmony and rhythm 66 anthropic principle 6, 7; Page’s
multiverse perspective 21, 102, 103,
NASA 114 105; Tegmark’s Level II multiverse
Natural Theology (Paley) 8 11, 12–13, 15, 72–73
Neoplatonism 93 physical reality see mathematics and
Nicholas of Cusa 5, 95; contracted physical reality (Tegmark and
infinity 136–139; De Docta Platonism)
Ignorantia (Nicholas of Cusa) Pickstock, Catherine 39n138
123–131; De Visione Dei 129, Plato 5, 24–25, 26, 30, 40; on beauty
131–132; human uniqueness 43, 47–48; on love 25–26, 47–48;
146–148; individuality 144–146, on mathematics 63–64; Parmenides
147; mathematical infinity and God’s 43–45, 48, 57, 69, 70, 77n11,
infinity 139–140; mathematics/ 82n136; Phaedo 25, 42–43, 44,
mathematical theology 148–156; 57, 79n69; Philebus 46–47, 48,
see also infinity (cosmic and divine), 80–81n109; Republic 48, 64,
Cusa’s notion of 82n136; Symposium 25, 47–48;
nihilism 4, 61, 147, 172; see also see also Platonic participatory
uncertainty metaphysics; Timaeus (Plato)
non-intelligibility 19–20 Platonic love see love (Platonic)
numerical law 66 Platonic paradigm 15; see also
mathematics and physical reality
Ockham’s razor 15, 17 (Tegmark and Platonism)
outward journey 6, 21, 102, 107–108, Platonic participatory metaphysics
109, 111, 112 24–26, 40–53; cosmological
 Index 187
account 48–53; Harte’s discussion Schelling, Friedrich 29
of structure 68–75; Mersini- Schönborn, Christoph 16–17
Houghton’s connected multiverse science and theology 2–5; future
58–61; Parmenides 43–45, 48, 57, directions for 172–174; postmodern
69, 70, 77n11, 82n136; Phaedo 25, approach to 3–4; as truth-seeking
42–43, 44, 57, 79n69; Philebus enterprises 4; value to 170–172
46–47, 48, 80–81n109; Rubenstein’s science-engaged theology 3, 4, 171–172
views 53–58; Symposium (Plato) scientific legitimacy of multiverse
25, 47–48; Tegmark’s mathematics thought 8–9
61–68; see also Timaeus (Plato) scientific origins of multiverse thought
Plato on Parts and Wholes (Harte) 68 6–8
Polkinghorne, John 7 Scientific Revolution 28–29
postmodern approach to theology and scientists 173
science 3–4 Sherman, Jacob 24, 29, 114n1
precision, Cusa’s concept of 130–131 Siegfried, Tom 6
privative infinity, Cusa’s concept single universe 12, 18, 95, 103
of 136–139; see also contracted Smolin, Lee 12
infinity, Cusa’s concept of Socrates 42–44, 88; comparing soul
profligacy see extravagance and to a winged chariot 25–26; fourfold
profligacy classification of beings 46–47;
Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite 172 mathematics and 64; second voyage
Pythagoreanism 148–149, 151, 154 42–43; threefold participatory
structure 43
quadrivium 150, 151 Sophist (Plato) 44, 45–46, 48, 57, 69
quantum fluctuations 10, 11; see also soul: Forms and 51; world 50, 51
inflation Spinoza, Benedict 29
quantum mechanics 13–14, 15; see Steinhardt, Paul 12
also string theory Stenger, Victor 19, 78n48, 78n55,
134–135
Radical Orthodoxy movement 30, Stoeger, William R. 21, 120n109
39n138 string theory 11, 12; diversity of
Receptacle (Plato’s cosmological vision) creation and 99–101; Page’s idea of
49; concept 52; Derrida’s conception beauty and elegance of 101,
57; Harte’s account 72, 81n127, 102–103, 105–106
167; Mersini-Houghton’s connected substantiality, participation and 87
multiverse and 59–60, 166; Mersini- Summa Contra Gentiles (Aquinas) 83,
Houghton’s multiverse bath and 84, 86, 89–90
59–60, 79n78, 166; Rubenstein’s Summa Theologiae (Aquinas) 7–8, 83,
account 56–57; as third form of 84, 85, 91–93, 96–97, 104, 110
reality 52 supergravity 11, 99
Rees, Martin 8, 9 Susskind, Leonard 11, 99–100
Reformation 29 Swinburne, Richard 18, 36n87,
Renaissance period 28 117n54
Republic (Plato) 48, 64, 82n136 Symposium (Plato) 25, 47–48
Rubenstein, Mary-Jane: holographic
multiverse 143–144; on multiverse Tegmark, Max 5; Aristotelian
theory 1–2, 16, 23, 40–41, 53–56; paradigm and 62; mathematical
on Plato’s cosmological vision multiverse theories 153–156;
(Timaeus) 56–58; on Receptacle multiverse hierarchy 9–15, 61;
56–57; unscientific postscribble Platonism (mathematics and physical
55; on work of creation 57; Worlds reality) 61–68; see also specific level
Without End: The Many Lives of the of hierarchy
Multiverse 1–2, 54–57, 60, 166 teleological argument 7–8
188 Index
theology and multiverse thought transcendental participation
16–23; criticism 16–20; positive see vertical or transcendental
engagement 20–21; see also participation
multiverse hypothesis; participation Turok, Neil 12
theology and science 2–5; future
directions for 172–174; postmodern uncertainty 3, 4, 61, 147, 172; see also
approach to 3–4; as truth-seeking nihilism
enterprises 4; value to 170–172 unfolding, Cusa’s concept of 125, 127,
theory: of convergence 19–20; 128, 131, 143; see also enfolding,
of cosmic inflation 7; see also Cusa’s concept of
multiverse hypothesis; string theory Unger, Roberto 12
Theory of Everything (TOE) 62, unity: Aquinas’s circle of being
63, 64 and 110–113; Carr’s cosmic
Thierry of Chartres 149, 151, 154 uroborus 107–109, 110, 111–113;
Thomistic participation 26–27, 30, human knowledge and 109;
83, 84–94; accidental participation interconnectedness 108, 109
(subject and accident) 88; causal universality of matter, Avicebron’s
participation 84, 88–90, 98; in doctrine of 93
commentary on Boethius’s De
Hebdomadibus 86–89; diminished value learning problem 172–173
participation 90; distinction vertical or transcendental participation
between essence and existence 70–71
85–86; diversity of creation 96–101;
doctrine of creation 91–93; logical Ward, Graham 39n138
participation 87–88; reception and Ward, Keith 19, 20, 118n62;
93–94; substantiality and 87 arbitrariness and profligacy of
Tillich, Paul 29 multiverse 17–18, 106; on God 106;
Timaeus (Plato) 7, 25, 40, 41, 46, on Tegmark’s Level IV multiverse
48–53; cosmological vision 49–51; 17–18, 106
Harte’s reading of 69–72; Receptacle Whitehead, Alfred North 29, 141
51–53; Rubenstein on 56–58; whole of wholes 69, 81n123
Tegmark’s mathematics (Level IV world soul (Plato) 50, 51
model) 66–68; whole of wholes 69, Worlds Without End: The Many Lives
81n123 of the Multiverse (Rubenstein) 1–2,
time: concept of 66; eternity and 66 54–57, 60, 166