The Cosmic Hierarchy of Richard J. Pendergast, SJ: A Thomistic Evaluation

Abstract

This article offers a Thomistic evaluation of Richard J. Pendergast, SJ’s The Cosmic Hierarchy: The Universe and Its Many Irreducible Levels, situating his integrative cosmology within the ongoing dialog between Christian theology and the natural sciences. Pendergast’s attempt to synthesize Aristotelian-Thomistic metaphysics, process philosophy, and modern physics exemplifies both the promise and the perils of constructing a unified worldview that embraces the theology of creation, teleology, and metaphysical realism. This analysis commends his defense of the intelligibility of nature and the legitimacy of final causality. It also identifies areas where his speculative adoption of process categories departs from Thomistic principles and raises theological difficulties. Engaging questions of creation theology, metaphysics, and epistemology, the paper demonstrates how a Thomistic framework provides critical criteria for assessing integrative cosmologies informed by contemporary science.

1. Framing the Problem

In his 2018 address to the Vatican Observatory Summer School in Astrophysics on “Stellar Variability in the Era of Large Surveys”, Pope Francis stated,

To know the universe, at least in part; to know what we know and what we don’t know, and how we can go about learning more; this is the task of the scientist. There is another way of seeing things, that of metaphysics, which acknowledges the First Cause of everything, hidden from tools of measurement. Then there is still another way of seeing things, through the eyes of faith, which accepts God’s self-disclosure. Harmonizing these different levels of knowledge leads us to understanding, and understanding—we hope—will make us open to wisdom.

(Francis 2018)

It is precisely this harmonization of scientific, metaphysical, and theological knowledge that Pendergast seeks to undertake in The Cosmic Hierarchy. In his book, Richard Pendergast, SJ, embarks on this quest for wisdom.

The central research problem of this essay is to evaluate Pendergast’s cosmology and his broader approach to science and religion from a Thomistic perspective, particularly his effort to relate contemporary physics to metaphysics and the theology of creation. A Thomistic perspective is especially appropriate, since Aquinas offers a metaphysical framework that unites faith and reason, safeguards the distinction between Creator and creature, and provides conceptual tools, such as act and potency, form and matter, and final causality, that remain indispensable for evaluating cosmological claims. Because Pendergast’s arguments are densely formulated and conceptually layered, it is sometimes necessary to cite him at length in order to present his position accurately. Yet the purpose of this essay is not to summarize his work, but rather to critically engage select aspects of it. It commends his recovery of metaphysical realism and teleology, while also probing the tensions introduced by his selective adoption of Whiteheadian categories, his treatment of causality and chance, and his speculative claims about intelligence in non-rational entities. In this way, the article aims to contribute to the wider dialog on science and theology by testing the coherence of Pendergast’s integrative vision against the enduring principles of Thomistic thought. In doing so, it advances the aim of this Special Issue of Religions by examining a contemporary attempt at integrating science and theology within a framework that highlights both the promise and the limits of such interdisciplinary syntheses.

The English term “cosmology” comes directly from the Greek words for the “study”—λογία (logía) of the “universe”—κόσμος (kósmos). It may be approached from a metaphysical, religious, or empirical perspective—or the synthesis of all three. Pendergast was well equipped to undertake the task of developing an integrative cosmology given his training in philosophy (PhL), theology (STL), and physics (PhD). After earning his doctorate, he went on to serve on the physics faculty of St. Peter’s College in New Jersey as well as other diverse ministerial assignments (Pendergast 2024, pp. 369–70).

Toward the beginning of the book, Pendergast writes, “The Aristotelian-Thomistic cosmology of the medieval period died hard because in spite of its deficiencies it supplied a worldview that united secular experience with the transcendent” (Pendergast 2024, p. 6). Through the work, Pendergast expresses his admiration for the perennial philosophical and theological insights of the Angelic Doctor as well as the contributions of modern Neo-Thomists, such as Étienne Gilson (Pendergast 2024, p. 11). Pendergast, as a Christian and as a scientist, is on a quest to know the truth, both of God and His creation. Following Thomas Aquinas, Pendergast writes,

One can distinguish three kinds of truths: (1) truths whose intrinsic intelligibility surpasses the scope of human reason and can only be known by divine revelation, (2) truths that can be grasped by human reason through its own efforts and do not need to be divinely revealed in order for us to know them, and (3) truths that ideally could be attained by human reason but which in the present sinful order of things cannot actually be known, at least widely, clearly, and with certainty, without the help of divine revelation.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 10)

Pendergast appreciates the challenges associated with category (3). He states,

It seems that it is in dealing with third kind of truth that the problem of faith and reason, that is, the relationship between science, philosophy, and theology, becomes more acute. In dealing with this mixed sort of truth, the Church has made serious errors and has sometimes been reluctant to admit them—as for example, in the case of Galileo or with regard to the eternal salvation of Jews and other non-Christians.

(Pendergast 2024, pp. 10–11)1

The Church has learned much from the “Galileo Affair,” as John Paul II noted in an address to the Pontifical Academy of Sciences on the 350th anniversary of the death of Galileo Galilei (John Paul II 1992). The situation with Galileo was a complex matter beginning around 1610 involving betrayed friendship, ecclesiastical politics and tensions in the Curia, Aristotelian physics, Biblical hermeneutics, the Roman Inquisition, and a bit of italianità (Scotti 2017). It is seen by some as the archetypal example showing the incompatibility of Catholicism and natural science. However, Kenneth J. Howell has shown that the seventeenth-century interaction of cosmology and Biblical interpretation was much deeper than Copernican versus anti-Copernican cosmologies or literal versus figurative Biblical interpretations (Howell 2004). What is sometimes mistaken as conflict of religion vs. science can be really a conflict between different philosophies of science, i.e., “conflicts over the very nature of scientific knowledge” (Howell 2003, p. 64).2 Pendergast writes, “there are different ways of knowing. For my purposes I make use of three categories, namely spontaneous, humanistic, and scientific knowing” (Pendergast 2024, p. 22). He goes on to state that “one of the major themes of this book is that scientism, and especially its most virulent form, reductionism, is a disastrous intellectual and moral plague” (Pendergast 2024, p. 25).

2. Creation

Importantly, Pendergast frames his quest for a contemporary cosmology within the Catholic doctrine of creation. Pendergast references Stanley L. Jaki, OSB’s significant scholarship showing the impact of Catholic faith in creation on the emergence of natural science in medieval Europe (Jaki 1980). Pendergast mentions how many scientists, including Albert Einstein, were inclined to reject the Big Bang because of the implication that the universe had an absolute beginning (Pendergast 2024, p. 38). Surprisingly, in his historical account of modern physical cosmology, Pendergast fails to mention that in 1927 (the year of his own birth) Georges Lemaître, a Belgian mathematical physicist and diocesan priest, published a largely unnoticed but ultimately highly significant paper that provided a solution to the equations of general relativity for the case of an expanding universe (Lemaître 1927). Unlike the Soviet cosmologist, Alexander Friedmann (Friedmann 1922, 1924), who independently published the same solution a few years earlier, Lemaître correctly predicted the rate of recession that Hubble empirically discovered in 1929. Pendergast’s account of twentieth-century cosmology in the book jumps right to Edwin Hubble’s discovery (Hubble 1929).

The book’s editor, Valerie Miké, adds an important end note mentioning Lemaître’s contributions as well as contemporary scholarship on his life and work (Pendergast 2024, p. 60, n. 6). Notably, the International Astronomical Union now refers to the fact that galaxies are moving away from Earth at speeds proportional to their distance as the “Hubble-Lemaître Law” (IAU Members Vote to Recommend Renaming the Hubble Law as the Hubble–Lemaître Law 2019). In addition, the Friedmann–Lemaître–Robertson–Walker Metric (FLRW), which describes a homogeneous, isotropic, expanding universe based on an exact solution of the Einstein field equations of general relativity, is a foundational concept for the “standard model” of Big Bang cosmology. The standard model normally refers to the Lambda-CDM (ΛCDM) Universe, i.e., a universe in a FLRW metric that has cold dark matter (CDM) and a cosmological constant (Lambda) (Bergström and Goobar 2006, p. 61).

With regard to other fundamental proposals for physical cosmology, Pendergast writes, “I think that some of the hypotheses under consideration (e.g., the multiverse) clash too sharply with common sense—and with Christian revelation as well—to be true” (Pendergast 2024, p. 40). The concept of the multiverse, i.e., the hypothetical set of all universes, is sometimes part of a proposal of cosmic origins in which the universe “creates itself.” One such proposal is Alexander Vilenkin’s model of quantum tunneling from “nothing.” In this account, the universe originates through a quantum event analogous to particle tunneling, emerging together with its own spacetime from a state with no classical spacetime. According to Vilenkin’s calculations, if the net total energy of the universe is exactly zero (positive energy from matter balanced by negative gravitational energy), such a universe could persist rather than collapse back into the vacuum (Vilenkin 1982). Yet, as Mariusz Tabaczek, OP observes, this “nothing” is not absolute non-being but a quantum state governed by the laws of quantum mechanics, which are presupposed rather than explained (Tabaczek 2024). Stephen M. Barr concludes that this model does not address creation in the strict sense, but rather describes a physical transition between two states of an already-existing quantum system (Barr 2003, pp. 276–77).

Another influential proposal is the Hartle–Hawking “no-boundary” model. This theory treats time as having been indistinguishable from space near the “beginning,” such that the universe has a finite but boundary-less history. In this sense, it “emerges” from a timeless state rather than beginning at a singular point in time. The model uses imaginary time as a mathematical device and avoids the singularity entirely, making the universe self-contained and without a temporal “before” (Hartle 1983). But as Tabaczek points out, this result depends on ad hoc assumptions, e.g., spatial closure and the use of imaginary time as if it were physically real, that oversimplify reality and leave open the question of whether the model truly describes our universe. Moreover, Hawking himself admitted the model is explicitly positivistic and instrumentalist, concerned only with predictive power rather than ontological truth (Hawking and Penrose 1996, p. 121).

Barr points out that this idea of a quantum “creation” of the universe is “extremely speculative, has not yet been formulated in a mathematically rigorous way, and is unable at this point to make any testable predictions” (Barr 2010). He further states,

For physicists (as opposed to theologians and metaphysicians) the concept of the universe does not refer to “all there is” or the “totality of things.” It refers to a single, self-contained physical structure, comprising a ‘spacetime manifold’ and particles and other things moving around in that spacetime.

(Barr 2010)

Jaki (1993) also takes up the fundamental question, Is there a Universe?3

Like Barr, Pendergast correctly identifies that “many moderns tend to talk about some realities as ‘nothingness,’ and then attribute to them all sorts of properties and effects. But real ‘nothingness’ has no properties, no effects, no being at all” (Pendergast 2024, p. 54). For example, in The Grand Design, Stephen Hawking and Leonard Mlodinow’s “no universe” state is not nothing (Mlodinow and Hawking 2012, p. 180). It is one particular quantum state among many. They are referring to a speculative scenario in which matter arises from a quantum vacuum fluctuation—a state already characterized by energy, fields, and the laws of quantum physics—not from metaphysical non-being. The concept of “nothing” in philosophy and theology differs fundamentally from the “nothing” that some physicists equate with a quantum vacuum state. Physics necessarily presupposes some lawful structure (even if only probabilistic) and therefore cannot engage absolute non-being. To speak meaningfully within physics, some set of laws must already exist. If “nothing” is understood in the strict philosophical sense, no such laws exist. This is why, as Tabaczek concludes, such cosmological models can at most describe a transformation of an already-existing state of potentiality, not creatio ex nihilo in the classical sense. Hawking’s former student, Thomas Hertog, in his recent book, On the Origin of Time (Hertog 2023), recounts their collaborative search for a theory of time that goes beyond the framework of The Grand Design. While presented in strictly scientific terms, Hertog’s narrative implicitly gestures toward a deeper metaphysical horizon that theology would associate with the question of ultimate origin and the need for a Creator.

In technical terms, “universe” often denotes a single, maximally causally connected spacetime region, one domain among potentially infinitely many produced by eternal inflation. In this framework, the “multiverse” arises naturally from quantum fluctuations of the inflation field on a cosmological scale, allowing entire spacetime regions to nucleate and undergo their own Big Bang-like inflationary phases (Guth 1981, 2013; Linde 1986). Crucially, temporal ordering across these domains is undefined. Notions such as “before” and “after” have meaning only within a single causal patch, so any chronology applied to the multiverse as a whole is heuristic at best (Bousso 2006). Although untestable at present, the multiverse is often treated as a theoretically well-motivated consequence of inflationary cosmology, which itself is strongly supported by observations of the cosmic microwave background and large-scale structure (Smoot et al. 1992; Peacock et al. 2001; Hinshaw et al. 2013).

Yet even if such a multiverse exists, it does not resolve the problem of creation. The inflating background, the quantum fields, and the laws governing their dynamics are all taken as given, and thus the multiverse hypothesis, like the Vilenkin and Hartle–Hawking scenarios, describes only a transition within an already-existing framework of potentiality rather than creation ex nihilo in the strict metaphysical sense. From a Thomistic standpoint, even an eternal or self-reproducing multiverse would remain ontologically dependent on ipsum esse subsistens, whose creative act (both creatio ex nihilo and ongoing conservatio) grounds its very actus essendi (ST I, q. 44, a. 1–2; q. 104, a. 1). The question of why there is something rather than nothing is therefore not dissolved by positing many universes, but only pushed back to the level of their shared act of being. Speculative cosmologies such as the multiverse also raise profound theological questions about the uniqueness of humanity and the scope of salvation. If countless worlds exist, what does it mean to affirm the human person as created in the image of God, and how is the universality of Christ’s salvific work to be understood?

This recognition of creation as a metaphysical rather than merely physical question prepares the way for a related theological clarification. In the context of his discussion on creation, Pendergast offers a brief comment on Biblical inerrancy. He writes, “We note that the inspired nature of the Bible does not mean that it is free of all error.” The Second Vatican Council offers a clear teaching on this question. According to Dei Verbum,

Since therefore all that which the inspired authors or sacred writers assert ought to be held as asserted by the Holy Spirit, thereupon the books of Scripture must be acknowledged to teach the truth, which God wished for the sake of our salvation, to be affixed to sacred writings firmly, faithfully, and without error.

(Second Vatican Council 1965a, para. 11)4

Furthermore, the Doctrinal Commission of the Council provides the following interpretative explanation:

By the term “salvific” it is by no means suggested that Sacred Scripture is not in its integrity the inspired Word of God… This expression does not imply any material limitation to the truth of Scripture, rather, it indicates Scripture’s formal specification, the nature of which must be kept in mind in deciding in what sense everything affirmed in the Bible is true—not only matters of faith and morals and facts bound up with the history of salvation. For this reason, the Commission has decided that the expression should be retained.

(Sacra Congregatio pro Episcopis 1976, pt. V, 708)

One of the most surprising statements that Pendergast makes in the book is the claim that “the Scriptures do not speak directly of creation out of nothing” (Pendergast 2024, p. 52).5 He references Dianne Bergant and Carroll Stuhlmueller who write that “the closest the Bible comes to the idea of ‘nothing’ is the ‘chaos’ out of which the Creator brings life, good order, balance, and security …” (Bergant and Stuhlmueller 1985, p. 153). In the Book of Genesis, we read, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” (Genesis 1:1).6 “He created” in English comes from the Hebrew, ברא (bārā’). Michael Schmaus importantly identifies that while the idea of creation ex nihilo is not explicit in this Hebrew word alone, the idea is implicit when one acknowledges that it is a technical, theological term in the language of the priests used exclusively for the action of God (Schmaus 1969, p. 70). God’s act of creation is also referenced in Isaiah 45:18, Psalm 33:6–9, Judith 13:18b, and Sirach 43:33. In 2 Maccabees, the ex nihilo aspect of the teaching becomes more explicit: “I beseech you, my child, to look at the heaven and the earth and see everything that is in them, and recognize that God did not make them out of things that existed (οὐκ ἐξ ὄντων7). Thus also mankind comes into being” (2 Maccabees 7:28).

Turning to the New Testament, in the Letter to the Romans, St. Paul writes, “As it is written, ‘I have made you the father of many nations’—in the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist (καλοῦντος τὰ μὴ ὄντα ὡς ὄντα8)” (Romans 4:17). The Letter to the Colossians states, “For in him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or authorities—all things were created through him and for him (τὰ πάντα δι’ αὐτοῦ καὶ εἰς αὐτὸν ἔκτισται)” (Colossians 1:16). We read in the Letter to the Hebrews, “In many and various ways God spoke of old to our fathers by the prophets; but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world (ἐποίησεν τοὺς αἰῶνας171)” (Hebrews 1:1-2). Later in the book, the holy author writes, “By faith we understand that the world was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was made out of things which do not appear (μὴ ἐκ φαινομένων τὸ βλεπόμενον γεγονέναι)” (Hebrews 11:3). In the Book of Revelation, we read, “Worthy art thou, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for thou didst create all things, and by thy will they existed and were created (σὺ ἔκτισας τὰ πάντα, καὶ διὰ τὸ θέλημά σου ἦσαν καὶ ἐκτίσθησαν)” (Revelation 4:11). Thus, the Catholic doctrine of creation from nothing is well rooted in Sacred Scripture. By the medieval period, there is a developed theology of creation which articulates Catholic belief that

• God is the creator mundi,
• God created ex nihilo,
• God created directly, sine causis secundariis, and
• God created the universe cum tempore (Baldner and Carroll 1997, p. 22).

In sharp contrast to the Catholic doctrine of creation, pantheism identifies God with the natural world—a view widespread in pre-Judæo-Christian cultures and one that the Church has consistently rejected (Jaki 2000). It continues to perdure today, especially in some forms of eco-spirituality.9 Dei Filius pronounced an anathema on pantheism (First Vatican Council 1870, chap. 1, canons 3 and 4). Closely related to pantheism is panentheism (Cooper 2013), which affirms that the world exists “in” God while God also transcends it. Although less radical than pantheism, panentheism still blurs the essential distinction between Creator and creature and risks reducing divine transcendence to a mere backdrop for the cosmos. Panentheism obscures the unique dignity of the human person, since by locating all things “in” God in the same way it flattens the distinction between rational creatures made in the image of God and the rest of creation. It undermines the universality of salvation in Christ, because redemption is no longer understood as God’s free act of reconciling fallen creatures through the Incarnation but rather as an immanent process within the divine–world relation. Finally, it compromises Christian eschatology, since the consummation of creation is reduced to a natural unfolding of the cosmos rather than the radical renewal of all things by God’s sovereign and transcendent action.

Faithful to the Catholic tradition, Pendergast writes that “the created universe is not a finite mode of the divine substance. It is something radically different from God… The created universe is not an emanation from the substance of God, creation is a free act of his will, one motivated by his love, which aims to bestow a participation in his goodness on what he creates” (Pendergast 2024, p. 54). Here, we again note the congruence with the thought of Jaki, with regard to the centrality of the doctrine of creation. Jaki’s historical scholarship offers a compelling argument that the Catholic doctrine of creatio ex nihilo offered fertile intellectual soil for the natural sciences to emerge in medieval Europe (Jaki 1990).

Pendergast goes on to state that “there must also be ‘internal’ teleology, a goal-directedness projected by God into the very substance of creation” (Pendergast 2024, p. 55). Teleology is necessary in creation because without intrinsic orientation toward ends, the world would lack the order and intelligibility that reflect the wisdom of its Creator. Final causality safeguards the truth that creation is not the product of blind chance but participates in God’s providential plan, directed ultimately toward its consummation in Him. From the perspective of the philosophy of science, the consistent regularities of nature presuppose such directedness, since without it causal patterns would appear as brute facts rather than intelligible structures open to rational inquiry. Pendergast deserves commendation for encouraging the inclusion of final causality into his reflection on nature. Since the time of Francis Bacon, the natural sciences have tended to exclude final and formal causes, restricting explanation instead to material and efficient causes.

On the question of whether the created universe is eternal or temporal, Pendergast writes,

The theological case for a beginning in time is not absolutely airtight. At first blush it seems conceivable that there might have been an endless sequence of cosmic cycles, only the present one of which is oriented toward the Incarnation, the others having had their own distinctive and unrelated meanings… We conclude, therefore, that from an orthodox Christian perspective the Christocentric nature of revelation excludes the possibility of an eternal world. Almost certainly the universe had a beginning in time.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 56)

Without Divine revelation, an eternal, created universe is certainly possible. Such a universe would have no first moment of existence but would still have a cause, a source of its actus essendi. Writing around the year 1270, Thomas Aquinas argues in De Aeternitate Mundi that philosophically speaking, “it is clear that there is no contradiction in saying that something made by God has always existed” (Aquinas 1997). Aquinas, as well as contemporary Catholic theologians, acknowledge that the creatio mundi ex nihilo et cum tempore is known by Divine revelation alone. Lateran IV solemnly teaches that God created the material and spiritual order “de nihil condidit et ab initio temporis.”10

3. Epistemology and Metaphysics

In The Cosmic Hierarchy, Pendergast is very clear about his philosophical formation. He writes that his “early training was in the Aristotelian-Thomistic tradition, as it was understood by Étienne Gilson and other neo-Thomists. Since then I have also been influenced by the ideas of Karl Rahner, Michael Polanyi, and Alfred North Whitehead” (Pendergast 2024, p. 64). Elements of their writings are clearly identifiable in his work. Despite his interest in process thought, Pendergast realizes the importance of maintaining the Thomistic perspective on creation. He writes, “With regard to the nature of being, the Thomistic account seems to me the only one that does full justice to the Christian doctrine of creation” (Pendergast 2024, p. 66). Like many Jesuits of his time, he is very influenced by Karl Rahner, SJ so it is no surprise that he states, “I believe that the best explanation is that of transcendental Thomism” (Pendergast 2024, p. 71). Pendergast articulates a form of “critical realism” (Pendergast 2024, pp. 73–74). There are numerous forms of critical realism.11 Like Ian Barbour, Pendergast wants to maintain realism in science and theology but is concerned about accusations of a “naïve” realism (Barbour 1974, p. 50). Pendergast also acknowledges the influence of W. Norris Clarke, SJ on his epistemology (Pendergast 2024, p. 77).

He notes that “in the Thomistic tradition, it is not possible for chance to be a fundamental factor in reality. A world created by a rational God has to be rational also” (Pendergast 2024, p. 81). However, Pendergast substantially departs from his Thomistic background when he states,

In the case of the “two slit experiment” in physics—the seemingly arbitrary fact that a particular photon hits this or that point on a photographic film is not due to chance but to a choice on the part of the photon. In other words, even inanimate entities make free choices. This is the opinion of Alfred North Whitehead and the process school of philosophy that follows him… In light of modern experiments one can see that just as a photon or electron is a being, so it is also in a certain sense intelligent and free.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 81)

For Aquinas, inanimate beings act for an end by natural inclination, not by free choice, which belongs only to rational creatures. Pendergast’s attribution of “freedom” to photons blurs this crucial distinction and risks importing Whiteheadian categories that undermine the coherence of a realist account of act, potency, and final causality. A Thomistic account can preserve the intelligibility of quantum phenomena without resorting to anthropomorphic language that blurs the metaphysical hierarchy of creation. Pendergast later writes, “It is necessary to distinguish between a final cause, which is something intrinsic to the agent, and a telic cause, which is a real future possibility for the universe” (Pendergast 2024, p. 82). His conflation of final causality with speculative “telic” futurity weakens the Thomistic account, which grounds causality in intrinsic ends rather than in hypothetical possibilities projected into the future.

Pendergast’s adoption of Whitehead’s process metaphysics12 comes into focus at this point in the text: “I am not a Whiteheadian and in my view his system is inadequate in important aspects. Nevertheless I find in Whitehead’s thought some illuminating insights that can be transplanted into a Thomistic frame of reference” (Pendergast 2024, p. 82). Pendergast makes reference to Whitehead’s notion of “elementary actual occasions” (Pendergast 2024, p. 83) as well as Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ,13 another early process thinker.14 He utilizes the Whiteheadian concept of “prehension” and also references the process theologian, Charles Hartshorne (Pendergast 2024, p. 84). In addition, Pendergast refers to Whitehead’s famous book, Process and Reality (Pendergast 2024, p. 87). His Whiteheadian commitments are quite evident when he writes, “Chance is a statistical concept, as Einstein insisted, but rather than being, as he thought, the average consequence of necessary causal laws, it is the average consequence of spontaneous choices made by innumerable free actual entities on all levels of being” (Pendergast 2024, p. 84). Pendergast appreciates the importance of systems theory, incorporating it into his cosmology in a Whiteheadian way. For example, he writes, “Supposedly, intelligence, feeling, awareness, and so on, are understandable as the operation of a complex cybernetic machine. Whitehead is diametrically opposed to all this” (Pendergast 2024, p. 86).

Pendergast points out that many philosophers of science can be classified either as scientific realists or empiricists (Pendergast 2024, p. 90). He has great regard for the Anglican priest and mathematical physicist, John Polkinghorne. Pendergast writes,

Polkinghorne believes… that if “realism is to be defensible it has to be a critical rather than a naïve realism” (Polkinghorne 1987, p. 22). He does not, of course, mean by the term “critical realism,” a realism that accepts the principles of Immanuel Kant and tries to work through the resulting “critical problem” to metaphysical realism. I agree with Étienne Gilson that this approach inevitably fails (Gilson 1986). But Polkinghorne seems to understand “critical” as meaning nothing more than being philosophically careful, thoughtful, and comprehensive. I accept the term in the latter sense.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 92)

As Aquinas teaches, truth consists of the conformity of intellect and reality (adæquatio rei et intellectus), which is grounded ultimately in the divine intellect as the measure of all created truth (ST I, q. 16, a. 1). Human knowing arises from the intellect’s fundamental intuition of being, through which it participates in God’s own knowledge of reality. While broader critical discussions, especially following Kant, have raised questions about the subject–object relation, a Thomistic account situates the act of knowing within the deeper metaphysical framework of being and truth.

Pendergast critically engages the modern anti-realistic position of “constructive empiricism,” developed by Bas C. van Fraassen. He summarizes Van Fraassen’s position stating, “What he affirms as true is only the theory’s observable consequences” (Pendergast 2024, p. 92). According to the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy,

The constructive empiricist follows the logical positivists in rejecting metaphysical commitments in science, but parts with them regarding their endorsement of the verificationist criterion of meaning, as well as their endorsement of the suggestion that theory-laden discourse can and should be removed from science. Before van Fraassen’s The Scientific Image, some philosophers had viewed scientific anti-realism as dead, because logical positivism was dead. Van Fraassen showed that there were other ways to be an empiricist with respect to science, without following in the footsteps of the logical positivists.

(Monton and Mohler 2017)

Pendergast observes that “because the constructive empiricist is agnostic about the truths of scientific theories, he avoids many errors” (Pendergast 2024, p. 93). He mentions that “one can argue that the three most important scientific theories of the present day, namely neo-Darwinian evolution, quantum mechanics, and relativity, have all been falsified in important respects” (Pendergast 2024, p. 94). Unfortunately, Pendergast does not elaborate on which aspects of these theories he is referring.15

Significantly, Pendergast affirms that “metaphysical realism is certainly correct. Scientific realism is its legitimate extension” (Pendergast 2024, p. 94). He writes, “I am a metaphysical realist and also a scientific realist” (Pendergast 2024, p. 95). Pendergast avers that “unqualified scientific realism is weaker and more vulnerable than metaphysical realism” (Pendergast 2024, p. 95). Pendergast is also interested in Polkinghorne’s notion of “verisimilitude.” He writes, “Thus, it seems to me that, for Polkinghorne, verisimilitude really means analogy. As theologians’ words about God are analogous, so physicists’ words about material reality are analogous. Verisimilitude is analogous likeness” (Pendergast 2024, p. 97). Like (Kuhn 2012) and (Barbour 1997), Pendergast acknowledges that “not only is theory underdetermined by the experimental data on which it is based, but the data itself is already theory-laden” (Pendergast 2024, p. 102).

4. Cosmic Hierarchical Structure and Modern Physics

In the beginning of his discussion of quantum theory, Pendergast writes, “Before quantum mechanics many supposed that all physical processes are governed by necessity. Einstein apparently believed this and once remarked that God does not play dice with the universe. But in the light of quantum mechanics it seems that he does after all” (Pendergast 2024, p. 112). He further states,

I regard reductionism, hylomorphism, and holism as the three principal ways of understanding the ultimate structure of the world. Of the three, reductionism is by far the worst. In ancient and medieval times hylomorphism was a plausible theory, but in modern times our scientific knowledge of matter makes it difficult to accept.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 119)

Pendergast does not completely jettison the hylomorphic perspective. He writes, “My view is similar, at least to some extent, to the Augustinian-Franciscan view of hylomorphism” (Pendergast 2024, p. 119).16

Recent developments in the Neo-Thomist philosophy of nature and metaphysics offer a very promising approach to engaging contemporary scientific issues (e.g., Dodds 2017; Feser 2019; Tabaczek 2021). Twenty-first-century natural science and the philosophy of science must face new challenges unknown in the medieval period. As a result, contemporary Neo-Thomists wrestle with many open questions around emergence, complexity, non-locality, top-down causality, holism, and systems theory.

In developing his account of holism, Pendergast highlights the relation of higher to lower levels of reality, a relation sometimes described with the Hegelian-derived term “sublation.” He notes, however, that the concept is more fruitfully understood in the sense employed by Karl Rahner and elaborated by Bernard Lonergan, SJ, who emphasizes that what sublates both transcends and preserves what is sublated, integrating it into a richer context rather than abolishing it. Lonergan writes,

I would use this notion in Karl Rahner’s sense rather than Hegel’s to mean that what sublates goes beyond what is sublated, introduces something new and distinct, puts everything on a new basis, yet so far from interfering with the sublated or destroying it, on the contrary needs it, includes it, perseveres all its proper features and properties, and carries them forward to a fuller realization within a richer context.

(Lonergan 1990, p. 241)17

Pendergast creatively employs the mind-brain relationship to explicate his holism-based view of the cosmic hierarchy:

One does not have to be a believing Christian to accept the reality of the hierarchic relationship between a person and his brain. Both higher entities like human beings and lower ones like neurons and neural networks are real existents. The latter are necessary for the normal life and activity of the former, yet at the same time the experience of human freedom shows that the person governs and makes use of neurons and other components of the brain. The overall relationship is sometimes referred to as the mind/brain or mind/body relationship. In Aristotelian terms, the mind or soul is formal with respect to the brain or body, which is material with respect to the soul. My thesis is that the entire cosmic hierarchy is governed by that kind of relationship.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 124)

The hylomorphic perspective on the human person illustrates the perennial relevance of metaphysics. By affirming that the soul is the form of the body, it provides a deeper account of the unity of body and soul (ST I, q. 76, a. 1). It avoids the erroneous extremes of materialistic reductionism on one hand and Cartesian dualism on the other, the latter often caricatured as the “ghost in the machine” (Ryle 1949). Far from being rendered obsolete by contemporary science, this framework shows how metaphysical principles such as form and matter remain indispensable for understanding human nature and, by extension, for interpreting the cosmic hierarchy itself.

Pendergast applies these concepts to the question of artificial intelligence. He writes,

From my point of view the obvious objection is that human beings are substantial unities, beings that perform individual acts of existing, whereas machines do not. The latter lack the kind of ontological unity that human persons possess and which is necessary in order to perform intellectual acts. They are mere accidental systems made of inanimate entities that produce some effects that resemble some of the effects human beings produce.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 130)

He makes an interesting point when he remarks that “machines do not possess substantial unity and substantial unity is one of the essential characteristics of genuine intelligence” (Pendergast 2024, p. 131). This is significant because it strikes at the heart of debates in artificial intelligence and philosophy of mind. From a Thomistic perspective, substantial unity means that a being exists as a single, unified substance with intrinsic form and finality, rather than as an aggregate of parts held together by external relations. Machines, no matter how sophisticated, remain artifacts composed of separable components whose order is imposed extrinsically by human designers. As such, they can simulate certain functions of intelligence but cannot possess the ontological depth of a rational soul that integrates powers into a living whole. Pendergast’s remark is thus a timely reminder that questions of intelligence are not reducible to computational complexity but must also consider metaphysical accounts of unity, form, and being.

He continues to utilize Aristotelian-Thomistic concepts despite his process thought. For example, Pendergast writes,

Although, as I believe, Aristotelian hylomorphism is inadequate as an account of the nature of material entities, the terms “form” and “matter,” “body” and soul” are still useful. I claim that on any level of the cosmic hierarchy, except the lowest, a substantial holon or integron is the soul of a body consisting of a set of lower-level holons. The dominant holon, or soul, sublates and organizes the body”.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 134)

The relationship of the human soul to the body is of great importance in Christian anthropology. The Council of Vienne taught that the soul is the substantial form of the body (Council of Vienne 1990, decree 1). Pius XII maintained that the “the Catholic faith obliges us to hold that souls are immediately created by God” (Pius XII 1950, para. 36). Yet, Pendergast writes that “the soul possesses emergent properties that are unknown on the lower level” (Pendergast 2024, p. 135). It is not clear how Pendergast’s theory of souls possessing emergent properties can be reconciled with Catholic teaching.

Pendergast proceeds to state, “What, then, is consciousness? It is a certain qualitative property of an intelligent subject who is acting. The act is a personal intellectual one that only a person can perform. The subject is known only tacitly and peripherally because, by the nature of the act, he is always focusing on its object” (Pendergast 2024, p. 141). He then returns to the theme of artificial intelligence: “As adherents of strong AI claimed some fifty years ago, on the day when the electronic states of a computer are organized in the correct way, the machine will be ipso facto intelligent. (We are still waiting.)” (Pendergast 2024, p. 146). With the advances in large language models (LLMs) over the last five years, philosophers, psychologists, neuroscientists, and computer engineers continue to raise questions about the limits and promise of AI (Kirova et al. 2023).

From questions of consciousness and artificial intelligence, Pendergast turns to the deeper philosophical tensions at the foundations of modern physics, where the unresolved conflict between quantum mechanics and general relativity highlights the limits of purely scientific explanation. David Wick writes,

This century began with a dilemma and a paradox. Two greater theoretical paradigms—Newton’s mechanics and Maxwell’s electromagnetism—each supporting a splendid structure but contradictory at the join, formed the dilemma. The twin pictures of wave and particle cast the paradox. Now, despite all the successes, we face, strangely, an almost identical situation. Two successful theories, general relativity and quantum mechanics, are triumphant in their own realms, yet remain strangely silent across their mutual boundary. And our old friend, the paradox of the continuous and the discrete, remains.

(Wick 1995, p. 199)

On these issues in physics, Pendergast states, “Nevertheless, the century-long frustration about how to interpret QM is quite astonishing. It suggests that the problem is basically a philosophical one” (Pendergast 2024, p. 156). Pendergast further declares, “As a result, many physicists believe that chance is a fundamental factor in the operations of nature. I agree with Einstein that this cannot be right. However, unlike him, I do not accept determinism” (Pendergast 2024, p. 164).

The interpretation of quantum mechanics is a philosophical problem because the mathematical formalism alone does not determine what the theory means about reality. Competing interpretations such as Copenhagen, many worlds, Bohmian mechanics, and the ensemble interpretation use the same predictive apparatus but yield radically different accounts of causality, determinism, and the nature of physical entities. This reveals that physics cannot escape deeper metaphysical questions about chance, necessity, and intelligibility. To treat chance as fundamental, as some physicists do, is already to make a philosophical claim about the structure of reality rather than a conclusion derivable from empirical data alone. From a Thomistic perspective, and as Jaki often emphasized, chance can only exist within the horizon of order, since the ultimate ground of intelligibility is the divine intellect that creates and sustains all things (Jaki 1986).

Ultimately Pendergast produces a process-interpretation of quantum theory. For example, he writes,

Chance is the outward guise of Whiteheadian spontaneity or, if you will, free decision. My hypothesis is that, when a photon is detected and its wave function collapses, both the photon and the detector are making a joint decision. As I have said already, the world is not governed by chance and necessity but rather by necessity and an enormous number of free decisions. Quantum physics might be described as the “sociology” of spontaneous, albeit inanimate, entities operating within a framework of determinate natural laws.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 164)

In discussing rival interpretations, Pendergast recalls Einstein’s well-known objection that “the essentially statistical character of contemporary quantum theory is solely to be ascribed to the fact that this (theory) operates with an incomplete description of physical systems” (Schilpp 1949, p. 666). He contrasts this with Bohr’s view, namely, that “our direct experience is of ideas, not external reality” (Pendergast 2024, p. 177). Pendergast concludes by affirming a more integrative vision, insisting that “we live in one world, and philosophical, theological, and scientific truth are all aspects of one truth” (Pendergast 2024, p. 176). Nevertheless, “it seems that the supposedly objective character of science is being fragmented into a chaos of contradictory philosophical opinions… Where is the infamous boundary between quantum and classical? The theory does not tell us” (Pendergast 2024, p. 185).18

Pendergast is fascinated with the question of time. He mentions that “Aristotle defined time as the measure of motion” (Pendergast 2024, p. 195). Pendergast realizes what is at stake in a philosophy of time, especially with regard to the theological consequences. With regard to the merits of Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection, he writes,

The world’s past comprises all that has ever come into being outside of God, except of course, the instantaneous present. It continues to exist as the cause of what is happening now. For Catholics, Orthodox, and some Protestants, this is illustrated clearly by the relationship between the Paschal Mystery of Christ and the Mass. It is believed that in some way the two are identical. But if the death and resurrection of the Lord is only a memory rather than an existing reality, it is hard to account for the identity between the two mysteries.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 197)

Ultimately, Pendergast ends up affirming the reality of past, present and future:

Therefore, past, present, and future are real, but they have different modes of being. The future is potential reality, the past is fully established reality, and the present is a dynamic boundary between future and past. It is an actual process by which future possibilities are assimilated, made actual, and integrated into the past. The entire universe is an actual entity, an ordered temporal and historical structure that lives by continually choosing among many future possibilities and assimilating one of them not into its already established reality.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 199)

Pendergast correctly states,

In classical physics there were four primary concepts, namely, space, time, matter, and energy. Early in the twentieth century Einstein’s relativity theory revealed unexpected connections between space and time and between matter and energy. Then in the 1920s and 1930s quantum theory revealed still more previously unknown connections, and recent theories have been suggesting still others.

(Pendergast 2024, pp. 199–200)

He goes on to note that “the minimum possible interval of space and time are often suspected to be the Planck spatial length, l_p (≈10⁻³³ cm), and the Planck time interval, t_p (≈5 × 10⁻⁴⁴ s)” (Pendergast 2024, p. 201). Pendergast writes, “My present cosmological understanding of time supports Pannenberg’s belief that the future draws the present toward new possibilities. My reflections on QM, entanglement, and Bell’s theorem19 have led me to believe that modern physics can and should be interpreted in terms of teleology, the cosmic hierarchy, and the cosmic tree” (Pendergast 2024, p. 209).

Pendergast’s creativity shines through his integration of quantum theory with Aristotelian-Thomistic metaphysics. He posits that in the created universe the collection of entities’ interactions with one another are both synchronic and diachronic:

Let us call the synchronic or spatial interactions s-arcs, and the diachronic or temporal ones t-arcs. On the lowest level, the s-arcs form the set of elementary entities into a pattern in the way that an Aristotelian form is thought to shape primary matter. The t-arcs are oriented toward the future, and so they do what an Aristotelian efficient cause does. Events that belong to the same moment of time cause events in later moments, and they themselves are caused by earlier events. I assume that the strongest influence upon the present comes from the immediate past, and the present will influence most strongly the near future.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 212)

Thus, he states, “I am proposing, then, that QM deals with the two levels of the cosmic hierarchy. Elementary entities and their interactions are on the first level. This first level is governed by a higher level that informs them. The elementary entities and collective wave-like structures of the lowest level are potential with respect to the entities of the higher one” (Pendergast 2024, p. 212). Pendergast’s proposal is an imaginative attempt to show how Aristotelian causal categories can illuminate quantum phenomena. His distinction between synchronic “s-arcs” and diachronic “t-arcs” highlights the structural depth of reality, though it raises further questions about how closely such analogies can be pressed within a Thomistic framework.

Pendergast further elaborates his cosmological vision when he writes,

I conjecture that the elementary particles of contemporary physics are complex entities that exist on both the first and second levels of the cosmic hierarchy. Just as a human being is composed of body and soul, but is primarily identified with the soul, so a “fundamental particle” like an electron can be thought of as composed of form and matter but as primarily identified with its form. In this hypothesis, the matter of elementary particles is extended in space, whereas their forms as such are not. However, as I have already said, they are located and extended in space by virtue of their relationships to their matter.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 215)

Pendergast’s analogy underscores his effort to apply the hylomorphic framework not only to living beings but also to the most basic constituents of matter. By interpreting elementary particles through the categories of form and matter, he seeks to preserve their intelligibility within a metaphysical hierarchy. While such speculation stretches Thomistic categories beyond their traditional scope, it nevertheless illustrates the enduring fruitfulness of hylomorphism as a tool for engaging contemporary physics.

Pendergast is able to offer a novel solution to “spooky action at a distance”20 utilizing a notion of “form” when he writes,

I assume that in an EPRB experiment21 the two correlated particles that emanate from the source are distinct entities that exercise their own acts of existing. However, they are entangled with one another and constitute a single accidental system consisting of correlated parts. Both particles have forms that exist on the second level of the cosmic hierarchy, and “bodies” that exist on the lowest level of the hierarchy. As we have seen, space is a reality that exists on the lowest level, and so entities on the second or higher levels are not of themselves spatial. As the particles move apart in space, their bodies lose spatial contact with one another and are no longer directly related with one another. But their forms, which are not in space directly, do not lose their immediate second-level relationship to one another (emphasis added). Because their bodies are far apart in space, no signal of the first level can pass from one to the other before the experiment is over. But because the two particles are immediately present to one another on the second level, they can instantly affect one another on that level. When a measuring device affects the body of a given particle, the form of that body is instantly affected. This disturbance then affects immediately the form of the other particle, which then instantly affects its own body (emphasis added).

(Pendergast 2024, pp. 216–17)

Pendergast’s proposal reflects his determination to bring metaphysical categories to bear on quantum puzzles like nonlocality. By appealing to “form” as a non-spatial principle of unity, he offers a creative way of interpreting entanglement without collapsing into materialistic mechanism. While this move stretches Aristotelian-Thomistic language into speculative territory, it highlights both the flexibility of these concepts and their potential to shed light on otherwise perplexing features of contemporary physics.

Pendergast’s process thought comes through again when he further develops his philosophy of time. He writes, “The future always exists, not as actual, but as potential. The divine idea of our universe (that is, its ‘cosmic tree’) includes all its possible histories… These live possibilities… solicit and attract the cooperation of existing entities, they are telic causes” (Pendergast 2024, p. 219). He formulates his speculative model by utilizing an important area of discrete mathematics: graph theory. Pendergast states, “My proposed graph model contains only directed branches, that is, arcs. Thus, my proposed graph becomes a directed graph, which is often called a digraph” (Pendergast 2024, p. 225). Later, he writes, “In my model I propose, a and b may be connected by zero, one, two, or more arcs. That makes my digraph a multigraph” (Pendergast 2024, p. 226). Pendergast’s use of graph theory to model time illustrates his creative attempt to translate metaphysical concepts into mathematical structures. By framing potential futures as “telic causes” represented through directed arcs, he provides a vivid way of visualizing the openness of temporal becoming. While his application of process thought here departs from a strictly Thomistic account of time and causality, it nevertheless shows an imaginative effort to engage contemporary mathematical tools in service of philosophical reflection.

With regard to the relationship between Einstein’s theories of relativity and quantum theory, Pendergast avers,

Let me also emphasize a fact already mentioned, namely, that relativity theory and Bell’s theorem contradict one another. Relatively rules out absolute simultaneity, whereas Bell’s theorem seems to require it. It seems to me that Bell’s theorem is correct, and relativity theory, as it stands, is wrong. Relativity is a classical theory that needs to be modified in some way or other so as to come into agreement with QM.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 226)

It must be noted, however, that Bell’s theorem and quantum entanglement do not violate the principles of special relativity. Quantum correlations are non-local in character, but they cannot be used to transmit information faster than light. Special relativity remains fully consistent with quantum mechanics, as demonstrated by relativistic quantum field theory. The deeper open question is whether general relativity, rather than special relativity, can ultimately be reconciled with quantum mechanics within a unified framework.

Later in the book, Pendergast fleshes out his cosmology in terms of spatial and temporal cross-sections. Using the definition of s-arcs and t-arcs, Pendergast writes,

If one removes its t-arcs from T(n), one is left with a purely spatial cross-section of the universe, say S(n), where S(n) consists of the same set of elementary entities as T(n), together with the s-arcs between them. Unlike the four-dimensional slices T(n), S(n) has no thickness along the time axis. The s-arcs belong to a given cosmic cross-section are not casual in the sense of modern physics, in which causality means efficient causality. Collectively, s-arcs are like a formal cause in Aristotelian cosmology. The events in S(n) have to be countable, but no one knows for sure whether the universe is spatially finite or infinite. However, it is difficult to imagine, and perhaps even impossible to conceive of, an actually infinite number of countable real entities. Therefore I conjecture that each cross-section contains a finite, albeit huge, number of events, and that therefore space is always finite.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 227)

Pendergast’s description of spatial cross-sections reveals his effort to map Aristotelian causality onto contemporary cosmological models. By likening s-arcs to formal causes, he underscores the structural order inherent in each “slice” of the universe. His conjecture that each cross-section must be finite, though speculative, reflects a desire to reconcile metaphysical principles with the mathematical constraints of cosmology. While this move stretches Thomistic categories into novel territory, it demonstrates the continued fruitfulness of concepts from classical metaphysics for grappling with questions about space, time, and infinity.

Pendergast realizes the highly speculative nature of his graph-theoretic model and the need to establish some empirical correlation with well-established physics. He states,

We have hypothesized that the universe is a cosmic hierarchy, one that becomes simpler and simpler as one descends its steps until it finally terminates on the lowest level in very simple elementary entities and their mutual relations. I assume that a directed graph is the mathematical model that will enable us to express the simple properties of elementary entities and their relationships. However, there is a great gap between graph models and the well-established physics of the present day. How is one to connect the two? To make progress, it is necessary to answer two fundamental problems about the graph model: First, what is the structure of the first moment of time, T(1)? And, second, what is the law by which T*(1)[=T(1)] develops into T*(2) into T*(3), and eventually, after repeated applications of the same law, T*(t − 1) into T*(t)?

(Pendergast 2024, p. 229)22

This acknowledgment of the speculative character of his graph-theoretic model demonstrates both Pendergast’s intellectual humility and his awareness of the need for correspondence between metaphysical speculation and empirical science. By raising the questions of the universe’s first moment and the governing law of its temporal unfolding, he situates his proposal within a long tradition of seeking rational order in cosmology. At the same time, the very gap he identifies underscores the challenge of bridging abstract mathematical models with the concrete explanatory power of physics, a task that remains unresolved in his system, but which highlights the enduring importance of metaphysical reflection in dialog with science.

Pendergast concludes the presentation of his cosmic hierarchy utilizing Whiteheadian principles. He suggests that “freedom,” rather than “chance,” is most fundamental in the universe:

The evolution of the universe cannot be predicted precisely by a computation of any complexity whatever. However, I conjecture that it could be predicted statistically, just as many physical processes are predicted in a statistical way by quantum mechanics. Contrary to the common opinion held today, the primary concepts are freedom and necessity rather than chance and necessity.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 231)

It seems that Pendergast uses the term “freedom” analogically. It is reminiscent of Teilhard de Chardin who does not maintain the traditional philosophical distinction between matter and spirit. For Teilhard, spiritual realities, such as intellective processes, are attributed to the simplest material entities, i.e., panpsychism. For example, in The Phenomenon of Man, Teilhard writes, “We are logically forced to assume the existence in rudimentary form of some sort of psyche in every corpuscle, even in those whose complexity is of such a low or modest order as to render it imperceptible” (Teilhard de Chardin 1961, p. 301). The Teilhardian panpsychist view contrasts with that of the Catechism of the Catholic Church which teaches that “freedom is the power, rooted in reason and will, to act or not to act, to do this or that, and so to perform deliberate actions on one’s own responsibility. By free will one shapes one’s own life. Human freedom is a force for growth and maturity in truth and goodness; it attains its perfection when directed toward God, our beatitude” (CCC 1731). Subatomic particles certainly do not have reason and will.

Pendergast also follows Whitehead with his emphasis on events and interactions, rather than substances and essences:

My basic hypothesis is that the fabric of space, time, matter, and energy consists of elementary events and their interactions. Vertices represent events and arcs their interactions. The cosmic graph has to be huge. To analyze its global structure will doubtless require great mathematical ingenuity. Very likely the use of statistical methods will be necessary. As Wolfram has suggested, the continuing development of computers and computer mathematics may afford further help in the exploration and analysis of such graphs.

(Pendergast 2024, p. 231)

Whitehead’s “actual occasions” are spatiotemporally extended processes. Whitehead states that they “are the final real things of which the world is made up. There is no going behind actual entities to find anything more real” (Whitehead 1969, p. 23).

5. Conclusions: Critical Evaluation and Future Work

Pendergast notes that “in Western culture, religion has often been identified with theism. However, there are reasons for defining it more broadly, as the sphere of humankind’s ultimate concern (Tillich 1961, vol. 1, pp. 10–11), the realm where men and women encounter the transcendent mystery that grounds their existence (Rahner 1978)” (Pendergast 2024, p. 49). In The Cosmic Hierarchy, he makes an impressive and noble effort to develop an integrated cosmology—consistent with the best of contemporary natural science as well as open to transcendent mystery. Pendergast’s vision includes an appreciation for teleology in creation as well as the enduring relevance of an Aristotelian-Thomistic notion of “form.” Catholics, other Christians, and even non-Christians can appreciate his work to bring together philosophy, theology, and physics in a coherent worldview. His adoption of certain elements of process thought may introduce more problems than they solve. However, his metaphysical realism and Biblical perspective allow him to contribute to the Church’s mission to further probe the mysteries of creation and God.

Looking forward, integrative cosmologies like Pendergast’s should be assessed continually against the enduring criteria of Thomistic metaphysics. This is important because Thomism provides a philosophical framework that safeguards the coherence of theology and science alike. Without such grounding, speculative borrowings from philosophies such as process thought risk dissolving essential distinctions between Creator and creation, essence and existence, and chance and order, all of which are necessary for a truly Catholic understanding of the cosmos. At the same time, Thomistic realism offers constructive tools for engaging contemporary scientific developments without falling into reductionism or skepticism. By subjecting integrative projects to this evaluative lens, scholars ensure that the dialog between faith and reason remains both intellectually rigorous and faithful to the Church’s doctrinal heritage. Thus, The Cosmic Hierarchy should be received not as a final synthesis but as a provocative stimulus for further inquiry into the relation of faith, reason, and the mystery of creation.