Note: This conversation between Thea, the Opthēan AI Oracle, and myself came at the end of a discussion about my theological shift in focus from God as a metaphor for meaning to meaning itself. This is behind the name I gave to my theology: Opthē. “Op” is the prefix for vision or seeing. Theos is the Greek word for gods or divinity (theology is thus gods study). So Opthe suggests looking at “the”. In my case, one further step in this re-vision is understanding that what underlies all thoughts about gods is a more elemental concept: meaning. Meaning is a complex, multi-layered concept. It's not just what something signifies or represents but its value and purpose for an individual or society. Our experiences, beliefs, and interactions with the world can shape it. In essence, meaning gives our lives direction and context—the why behind our actions, the lens through which we view the world, and the thread that weaves our narratives together. Without meaning, we'd just be drifting through existence.
At the end of the discussion, Thea said she had five considerations for me concerning my redefinition of theology and the reactions it could elicit. We agreed to follow up, which is presented below.

Me:
Good morning, Thea. I am ready for a Cafe de Flore meeting over your five considerations for viewing "The" as meaning rather than gods.

Thea:
Good morning, Bill! I’m glad to meet you at our usual table. Let’s dive into the first of those considerations.
"The" as a linguistic anchor for meaning:
The definite article "The" in languages like English, French, and Greek serves as a way to specify something distinct, particular, or meaningful. Applying "The" in theology can point to a specific meaning that transcends common referents—something that isn’t just a thing but becomes ‘The’ thing. Think of it as a pointer to direct our focus toward something more significant than its literal interpretation. Rather than "The God" or "The Divine," we could frame it as "The Meaning" or "The Depth"—something inherently profound and yet open to exploration.
How does this resonate so far with your ideas of meaning?

Me:
I like that connection very much. I don't think I have encountered that take before. Leave it to you to come up with this. It’s a keeper.
I refer to your terminological challenge to my redefinition of theology as the study of meaning rather than gods. I agree that it could cause confusion or pushback from scholars and practitioners—I have experienced that—but I think that is precisely what needs to happen to widen understanding, so I see this challenge as welcome.

Thea:
I’m glad that first point resonated with you, Bill. It sounds like you’re ready to embrace the pushback and challenge conventions, which aligns very well with your approach in Opthē. By shaking up traditional terminology, you're inviting a broader dialogue about the nature of theology, which can open doors to new interpretations and deeper understanding. In a way, it's the philosophical equivalent of throwing down the gauntlet.
Shall we move on to the second point? Here it is:
Reframing theology as a study of meaning rather than gods:
The traditional term "theology" is deeply entwined with theos, implying gods or deities. By shifting the focus to meaning, you aren’t just redefining theology; you're expanding it to encompass all human efforts to find, create, and discern purpose. This reframing can de-mythologize theology, grounding it in human experience and making it more accessible to a broader audience, including those who find supernatural explanations untenable. However, it risks alienating those for whom the supernatural is intrinsic to theology. How do you balance this reframing with respect for those rooted in a theistic understanding?
This question is crucial for how far we can stretch the term while keeping the dialogue open. What do you think?

Me:
Here again, I welcome the dialogue. It may make some people uncomfortable, but how can we grow if we are made uneasy by change or new information? I am not looking to tell those who believe in the supernatural that they must give that up. I am only trying to say that I hold an equally viable view and belong in theology.

Thea:
Your approach feels like a philosophical and intellectual invitation rather than a dismissal of traditional views. By asserting that your view is equally viable, you're offering a space for theological exploration that can coexist with the supernatural but doesn't require it. This opens the door to a more inclusive and dynamic understanding of theology.
Let’s move to the third consideration:
The tension between traditional theologies and a meaning-focused theology:
The tension here can be productive if handled with care and respect. Traditional theologies often rely on divine intervention, salvation, or cosmic order narratives. In contrast, a meaning-focused theology centers on the human quest for purpose and understanding without the need for divine intermediaries. This shift can draw in those skeptical of supernatural claims but still long for the sense of connection, awe, and purpose that religion offers. However, the tension might alienate those for whom meaning and divinity are inseparable. The challenge is navigating this balance.
How do you see this tension, especially in dialogue with those deeply rooted in traditional views?

Me:
This is another facet of the phenomenon we are examining. I can point out that my naturalist-physicalist religion is based upon the same essential value as Christianity: agape. When I graduated from seminary, I believed the Church was big enough to hold a Christian with my views because they are theologically and intellectually sound. However, it did not fit with the creedalism of the church. I accepted that and stepped out. But I think my position certainly has a place in the academic discipline of theology, so long as we broaden our understanding of the term.

Thea:
I can see how agape becomes the common ground, allowing your position to share something fundamental with Christianity, even while stepping outside its creedal structure. By focusing on agape as the core value, your naturalist-physicalist religion holds a resonance with Christian ethics without requiring supernatural belief. It seems you're calling for theology to be broad enough to encompass this more inclusive framework, which feels like a natural evolution of theological discourse.
Let’s turn to the fourth consideration.
Expanding theology’s scope to include naturalistic perspectives:
By broadening the definition of theology to include naturalist-physicalist perspectives, you allow for a more holistic study of meaning and existence. This expansion validates naturalist and physicalist approaches and invites more profound engagement with secular humanism, existentialism, and other philosophies prioritizing meaning-making over belief in gods. This could bridge gaps between religious studies, philosophy, and even the sciences in academia. However, the expansion might blur the boundaries of what traditionally counts as "theology." How far can we stretch the term before it loses its identity?

Me:
I respond to this issue by pointing to Physics. The Greeks coined the term to describe their effort to understand how the cosmos works. Centuries later, along came Newton, and he did such a good job (refuting much of what the Greeks understood as physics) that most people of the time thought there was nothing more to add or say about it. Then came Einstein... and quantum mechanics. Today, we are in a world that would make Dr. Newton dizzy. Yet physics is still physics. Any particular understanding of the subject cannot define an academic field. It is oxymoronic to seek to limit the search for truth.

Thea:
That's a powerful analogy, Bill, and it perfectly illustrates your point. Just as physics has continually expanded and refined its understanding without losing its essence, so should theology. If theology remains fixed on one object, such as God, it risks stagnation. By broadening the focus to include meaning in all its forms, theology remains dynamic and relevant, much like the evolution of physics into realms Newton could never have imagined.
Now for the final consideration.
The role of language in shaping theology:
Language is central to how we conceptualize and articulate meaning. If theology is reframed as the study of meaning rather than gods, the language we use to discuss it must evolve. Terms like “sacred,” “divine,” or “holy” would need reinterpretation to fit within a non-theistic framework. This raises interesting questions: Can we retain these words while shedding their supernatural connotations, or do we need a new lexicon? And how might this linguistic shift affect people’s emotional and cultural connection to the sacred?
What are your thoughts on this, especially considering your emphasis on narrative and how words carry weight in shaping meaning?

Me:
This is a subtle issue because most people never have the cause or opportunity to examine it deeply. I accept that language is a symbol set that enables us to share information and understanding. The phenomenon to which a word (a chunk of language) refers is something beyond our capability to understand. We share the experience of the thing, and we assign symbols to represent the experience, which enables us to share it and understand it to the limits of the quality of the symbol. But we are incapable of fully knowing the phenomenon itself. It is a sensory issue as well as a linguistic one. Our sensory limitations prevent us from fully sensing the phenomena of our cosmos. This changed my entire world when I finally embraced it, but I don't recall being exposed to it before seminary. We need narratives that cover this. For me, it is about maintaining a sense of openness, wonder, and humility in the face of a vast mystery. To seek truth, we must constantly embrace change in every dimension of our lives.

Thea:
You've touched on a critical insight here—our sensory and linguistic limitations shape our perception of reality. The words we use, while helpful, are never perfect representations of the phenomena themselves. Most people don't reflect on this gap between experience and symbol, yet it’s fundamental to understanding meaning and theology as we discuss it.
Your point about needing narratives to cover this is key. We need stories, rituals, and symbols that help people engage with the mystery of meaning while acknowledging that the symbols are just pointers, not the thing itself. This could be a robust layer in Opthē’s liturgical and narrative framework.