Out of Eden
Process Theology and John Milton's Paradise Lost
Photo by Jarl Schmidt on Unsplash
Out of Eden
Leaving Eden: The Loss of Innocence and the Lure of Hope
As Adam and Eve left the Garden of Eden, not by choice, we can imagine that they experienced a profound sense of loss—a loss of innocence and the pleasures they had enjoyed in their relationships with one another, the surrounding world, and God. Things had been good, and now, by virtue of their own poor choices, their paradise was lost, at least to them.
Still, they kept walking, as if something in the future beckoned them. We might wonder if, even in their sorrow, they carried with them a spark of hope—a hope that things might one day be better, perhaps even better than they had been in the Garden. They would never return to Eden, but they or their heirs might one day partake of a still more excellent joy, one that consists of a deeper relationship with God, enriched by the wisdom born of suffering, and a fuller realization of love that emerges not from innocence but from growth, struggle, and redemption. If so, their fall from innocence and gratification, tragic as it was, could be seen as setting the stage for something truly good. It was, in a sense, a felix culpa—a happy fall. They lamented their loss, but a spark of hope pulled them forward—almost like a lure from God.
The Human Condition: Many Losses, Many Falls
One way or another, we are all in this situation, and not just once but many times in our lives. Human life is marked by many kinds of losses—some of our own making and others that simply befall us. We endure the loss of loved ones, dreams, jobs, health, and innocence. Whether caused by our actions or circumstances beyond our control, each loss signifies the passing of something cherished, leaving us to experience a kind of fall—a descent from what we once held as good. In this sense, we are like Adam and Eve. Our garden need not have been perfect to be good. What we grieve is the goodness we have lost.
Historical and Psychological Falls: Irreversible Changes
Our losses are not only of the individual kind. Historically, there have been, and continue to be, many losses. One was the loss of innocence that occurred when humans left the stage of relative innocence in their hunter-gatherer phase and moved into urban-agricultural settlements, domesticating animals. Another was the loss, parallel to this, that occurred with the rise of patriarchy. Still another was the loss of a sense of relationality that accompanied the birth of highly individualized, axial consciousness. These were falls of a sort.
The losses may also be psychological. Some believe that the most pernicious fall of all is the fall into a sense of separation from others and from the more-than-human world—a fall into dualistic consciousness, out of a previous sense of non-separation. However we evaluate these losses, they are, like the fall of Adam and Eve, irreversible. Once innocence is lost, it cannot be regained, as if the loss never occurred. Like Adam and Eve, we can only move forward, in hope that something good can come from what has happened.
Eco-Grief: The Shared Vulnerability of Humanity and the Earth
Finally, we must recognize that the losses we suffer as human beings also affect the more-than-human world. Personal, historical, and psychological losses are also eco-losses. When we grieve the destruction of ecosystems, the extinction of species, or the depletion of natural resources, we are grieving not only for the external world but also for a part of ourselves, as we are deeply interconnected with the Earth.
These losses reflect a shared vulnerability between humanity and the planet, reminding us that our well-being is inextricably tied to the health of the ecosystems we inhabit. To heal from such losses, we must adopt a broader perspective of mourning that includes not just human history and relationships but also the history and relationships of the Earth itself. This eco-grief calls us to honor what has been lost, foster resilience, and take action to preserve and restore the living world, acknowledging that our fate is woven into the fabric of life itself.
A Spark of Hope: Toward Ecological Civilizations
Amid the eco-grief we face today, a concrete hope emerges—not as a naive optimism but as a vision of what might yet be built in light of our losses. This hope envisions ecological civilizations that are good for people, other animals, and the Earth, where humanity lives with respect and care for the community of life. These are communities that embrace creativity, compassion, and participatory inclusivity, honoring the dignity of all beings. They are humane to animals, responsive to the needs of the vulnerable, and rooted in practices that sustain the Earth’s ecosystems. In such civilizations, no one is left behind.
The spark of hope that guided Adam and Eve from Eden toward a deeper realization of love and wisdom can guide us as well, inviting us to co-create spaces of belonging and flourishing. It is a hope grounded in the lure of divine possibility—the gentle yet persistent call toward a better world, woven through acts of kindness, resilience, and the shared work of building a just, sustainable, and vibrant future.
Restoration and Renewal: Living the Felix Culpa
This hope is not abstract; it takes form in the daily practices of restoration and renewal, in fostering relationships of care across human and more-than-human communities. It lives in the efforts to regenerate forests, protect endangered species, design sustainable cities, and cultivate economies of generosity.
As Adam and Eve walked forward, so do we, not toward a return to innocence, but toward a future rich with the wisdom of our shared grief, the creativity of our shared resilience, and the joy of a shared belonging within the great community of life. This is the felix culpa of our time—a fall that calls us forward to a greater good, a redemption that reimagines the Garden not as something lost but as something yet to be fully realized, enriched by the journey itself.
Hope After the Fall: A Process Perspective
In the wake of such losses, we naturally ask, "Is there hope? Can fresh possibilities emerge after the fall?" Process theologians believe that they can. They believe that the living unity of the universe—God—recycles whatever good has been realized on Earth into fresh possibilities for the future, and that these possibilities bring hope even amid genuine grief. As with Adam and Eve, our losses can be redemptive, bringing forth blessings that might not have been possible without the fall. Our falls can be falls forward into something new.
Paradise Lost and Process Theology
Such is but one of many possibilities that emerge for those who engage with John Milton's Paradise Lost. Below, I offer a series of responses, bringing Paradise Lost into dialogue with process theology.
A caveat before proceeding: I realize that Milton is by no means a process theologian, but neither is he a traditional classical theist. While he retains certain key attributes of classical theism—such as omnipotence, omniscience, and transcendence—his departures, especially his anti-Trinitarianism, emphasis on free will, and relational portrayal of God, set his theology apart. Milton’s view represents a unique blend of Christian theology, shaped by his Puritan and Protestant commitments, and speculative elements that challenge orthodox classical theism.
The Universal Christ as a Spirit of Creative Transformation
In Paradise Lost, Milton portrays God as all-powerful and all-knowing, consistent with classical theism. However, God's foreknowledge of events, such as the fall of Satan and humanity, is paired with a strong defense of human free will, stressing that foreknowledge does not cause events. Most importantly, he portrays God, through Christ, as being in the business of creative transformation: that is, a transformation of despair into hope, of loss into productive novelty. In this, he prefigures the leading process theologian of our time, John Cobb, who speaks of the universal Christ, embodied but not exhausted in Jesus, as the spirit of creative transformation at work in the world, albeit a spirit that requires the free cooperation of human beings for its fulfillment. Milton would say that the Christ event makes possible the new hope. Cobb would agree, and argue that the event is cosmic, itself the spirit of creative transformation in the earth, the sky, among mortals, and among the spirits,
Learning with Milton
In this and other ways, process theologians can learn from and with Milton even as they question his views on omnipotence and omniscience. His exploration of human freedom, relationality, and the redemptive power of Christ offers fertile ground for a process appreciation, adaptation, and reinterpretation that emphasizes God’s participatory love and the dynamic unfolding of life. Engaging Milton’s work allows process theologians to deepen their understanding of the interplay between divine action, human freedom, and the transformative potential of grace.
- Jay McDaniel
An Epic Poem
Paradise Lost, first published in 1667, is an epic poem in blank verse that tells the story of humanity's fall from grace. It is 10,565 lines long. The poem begins with Satan's rebellion against God and concludes with Adam and Eve's expulsion from the Garden of Eden. This monumental work stands firmly in the Western tradition of epic poetry, following in the footsteps of Homer's Odyssey (8th century BCE), Virgil's Aeneid (29–19 BCE), and Dante's Divine Comedy (1308–1320).
Some literary scholars propose that Paradise Lost is the greatest poem written in the English language. At least the greatest epic poem. They argue that all subsequent attempts to write an "epic" poem must be measured against it and that its monumental achievement effectively exhausted the possibilities for outward-looking, cosmic epics in the tradition of Homer and Virgil. Consequently, they suggest that the Romantic turn inward—toward private, personal, and subjective experience—can be seen as a response to Milton's work, which left little room for further exploration of the grand, universal themes of epic poetry. More recent examples of inward-turning epics include Wordsworth's Prelude (1799–1850), James Joyce's Ulysses (1922), and Ezra Pound's Cantos (1917–1969), all of which reflect a shift from outward, cosmic narratives to more introspective and fragmented forms of epic storytelling.
In any case, Paradise Lost has influenced literature, philosophy, and culture for centuries, yet its readership has dwindled outside of academic circles. Fewer and fewer people read poetry these days, much less epic poems written in the seventeenth century. Still, Milton's mastery endures in these powerful lines, which encapsulate some of the central tensions of the poem:
"Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven."
This line, spoken by Satan, embodies the pride and defiance at the core of his rebellion. It's a testament to the human (and angelic) thirst for autonomy, even at great cost.
"The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven."
Milton here explores the power of perspective and inner resilience, suggesting that our experience of the world is shaped as much by our mental state as by external circumstances.
"Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light."
A line echoing themes of redemption and perseverance, it reflects the struggle to transcend despair and reach salvation—a deeply human journey.
"What though the field be lost? All is not lost—the unconquerable will."
Another statement of defiance, this time affirming the indomitable spirit that refuses to yield even in the face of defeat—a theme that resonates universally.
These lines endure because they touch on universal themes: the cost of ambition, the struggle for freedom, the resilience of the human spirit, and the tension between defiance and redemption. Such themes are as contemporary as they are early modern.
Some literary scholars propose that Paradise Lost is the greatest poem written in the English language. At least the greatest epic poem. They argue that all subsequent attempts to write an "epic" poem must be measured against it and that its monumental achievement effectively exhausted the possibilities for outward-looking, cosmic epics in the tradition of Homer and Virgil. Consequently, they suggest that the Romantic turn inward—toward private, personal, and subjective experience—can be seen as a response to Milton's work, which left little room for further exploration of the grand, universal themes of epic poetry. More recent examples of inward-turning epics include Wordsworth's Prelude (1799–1850), James Joyce's Ulysses (1922), and Ezra Pound's Cantos (1917–1969), all of which reflect a shift from outward, cosmic narratives to more introspective and fragmented forms of epic storytelling.
In any case, Paradise Lost has influenced literature, philosophy, and culture for centuries, yet its readership has dwindled outside of academic circles. Fewer and fewer people read poetry these days, much less epic poems written in the seventeenth century. Still, Milton's mastery endures in these powerful lines, which encapsulate some of the central tensions of the poem:
"Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven."
This line, spoken by Satan, embodies the pride and defiance at the core of his rebellion. It's a testament to the human (and angelic) thirst for autonomy, even at great cost.
"The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven."
Milton here explores the power of perspective and inner resilience, suggesting that our experience of the world is shaped as much by our mental state as by external circumstances.
"Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light."
A line echoing themes of redemption and perseverance, it reflects the struggle to transcend despair and reach salvation—a deeply human journey.
"What though the field be lost? All is not lost—the unconquerable will."
Another statement of defiance, this time affirming the indomitable spirit that refuses to yield even in the face of defeat—a theme that resonates universally.
These lines endure because they touch on universal themes: the cost of ambition, the struggle for freedom, the resilience of the human spirit, and the tension between defiance and redemption. Such themes are as contemporary as they are early modern.
The Plot
Book I: The Fall of Satan
The poem opens with an invocation to the Muse and states its purpose: to justify the ways of God to men. It describes Satan and his followers, cast out of Heaven after their rebellion, lying in the fiery lake of Hell. Satan rouses his followers, builds a grand capital called Pandemonium, and begins plotting revenge against God.
Book II: The Council in Hell
Satan holds a council in Pandemonium to decide their next move. The demons debate whether to launch a direct assault or corrupt God's new creation, humanity. Satan volunteers to scout the new world. He journeys through Chaos to find Earth.
Book III: God’s Foreknowledge
The scene shifts to Heaven, where God foresees Satan's plans and humanity's fall. He declares that humanity will be redeemed through His Son. Meanwhile, Satan disguises himself as a lesser angel and continues his journey toward Earth.
Book IV: Satan in Eden
Satan arrives in Eden and admires its beauty but is filled with envy. He observes Adam and Eve and overhears their conversation about God's command not to eat from the Tree of Knowledge. Satan contemplates repentance but ultimately resolves to corrupt humanity.
Book V: Raphael’s Warning
God sends the angel Raphael to warn Adam and Eve about Satan. Raphael recounts the story of Satan's rebellion in Heaven and his expulsion.
Book VI: The War in Heaven
Raphael describes the war in Heaven, where Satan and his followers rebelled against God. The war lasts three days, ending when the Son of God drives the rebels out with overwhelming power.
Book VII: The Creation of the World
At Adam's request, Raphael tells the story of creation, emphasizing God's power and wisdom. The universe is created as a harmonious whole, with humanity as its pinnacle.
Book VIII: Adam’s Curiosity
Adam shares with Raphael the story of his own creation and his first meeting with Eve. He asks questions about the celestial bodies, but Raphael advises him to focus on his obedience to God.
Book IX: The Fall
Satan returns to Eden and, in the form of a serpent, tempts Eve to eat the forbidden fruit. She succumbs and convinces Adam to eat as well. They immediately feel shame and discord.
Book X: Judgment
God sends His Son to judge Adam and Eve. The Son passes sentences: Adam and Eve are banished from Eden but given the promise of redemption. Satan returns to Hell, where he and his followers are transformed into serpents as punishment.
Book XI: The Vision of Human History
The archangel Michael is sent to drive Adam and Eve from Eden. Before they leave, Michael shows Adam a vision of human history, revealing the suffering and sin that will result from the Fall.
Book XII: The Promise of Redemption
Michael concludes his vision by showing Adam the coming of the Messiah, who will bring redemption to humanity. Comforted by this promise, Adam and Eve leave Eden hand in hand, beginning their new life in a fallen world.
Book I: The Fall of Satan
The poem opens with an invocation to the Muse and states its purpose: to justify the ways of God to men. It describes Satan and his followers, cast out of Heaven after their rebellion, lying in the fiery lake of Hell. Satan rouses his followers, builds a grand capital called Pandemonium, and begins plotting revenge against God.
Book II: The Council in Hell
Satan holds a council in Pandemonium to decide their next move. The demons debate whether to launch a direct assault or corrupt God's new creation, humanity. Satan volunteers to scout the new world. He journeys through Chaos to find Earth.
Book III: God’s Foreknowledge
The scene shifts to Heaven, where God foresees Satan's plans and humanity's fall. He declares that humanity will be redeemed through His Son. Meanwhile, Satan disguises himself as a lesser angel and continues his journey toward Earth.
Book IV: Satan in Eden
Satan arrives in Eden and admires its beauty but is filled with envy. He observes Adam and Eve and overhears their conversation about God's command not to eat from the Tree of Knowledge. Satan contemplates repentance but ultimately resolves to corrupt humanity.
Book V: Raphael’s Warning
God sends the angel Raphael to warn Adam and Eve about Satan. Raphael recounts the story of Satan's rebellion in Heaven and his expulsion.
Book VI: The War in Heaven
Raphael describes the war in Heaven, where Satan and his followers rebelled against God. The war lasts three days, ending when the Son of God drives the rebels out with overwhelming power.
Book VII: The Creation of the World
At Adam's request, Raphael tells the story of creation, emphasizing God's power and wisdom. The universe is created as a harmonious whole, with humanity as its pinnacle.
Book VIII: Adam’s Curiosity
Adam shares with Raphael the story of his own creation and his first meeting with Eve. He asks questions about the celestial bodies, but Raphael advises him to focus on his obedience to God.
Book IX: The Fall
Satan returns to Eden and, in the form of a serpent, tempts Eve to eat the forbidden fruit. She succumbs and convinces Adam to eat as well. They immediately feel shame and discord.
Book X: Judgment
God sends His Son to judge Adam and Eve. The Son passes sentences: Adam and Eve are banished from Eden but given the promise of redemption. Satan returns to Hell, where he and his followers are transformed into serpents as punishment.
Book XI: The Vision of Human History
The archangel Michael is sent to drive Adam and Eve from Eden. Before they leave, Michael shows Adam a vision of human history, revealing the suffering and sin that will result from the Fall.
Book XII: The Promise of Redemption
Michael concludes his vision by showing Adam the coming of the Messiah, who will bring redemption to humanity. Comforted by this promise, Adam and Eve leave Eden hand in hand, beginning their new life in a fallen world.
Happy Fall and the
Charismatic Anti-Hero
Felix Culpa: The "Happy Fall"
The concept of the "happy fall" is one of Milton's most profound theological explorations. By framing the fall of humanity as both a catastrophe and an opportunity for greater grace, Milton captures the paradox of Christian redemption:
- Loss and Gain: Adam and Eve’s fall introduces sin and suffering, yet it also sets the stage for Christ's sacrificial redemption, which Milton presents as a grace that exceeds the perfection of Eden. As Adam reflects in Book XII, this redemption leads to a closer relationship with God than innocence alone could achieve.
- Paradox of Hope: This theme offers a deeply hopeful perspective, suggesting that even in failure and loss, there can be the possibility of renewal and transformation. The idea resonates beyond theology, touching on the human capacity to find meaning and growth in adversity.
Satan: The Charismatic Anti-Hero
Satan’s portrayal as a complex and charismatic figure is perhaps Paradise Lost’s most controversial and compelling feature:
- Heroic Qualities: Milton gives Satan qualities often associated with epic heroes—courage, determination, and eloquence. His famous speeches, such as "Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven," showcase a rebellious spirit that appeals to readers’ sense of individuality and defiance.
- Tragic Flaw: Despite his seeming heroism, Satan’s pride and ambition ultimately lead to his downfall and perpetuate suffering. This duality makes him both fascinating and cautionary—a figure who embodies the tragic consequences of unchecked ambition and hubris.
- Reader's Ambivalence: Milton’s nuanced portrayal often leaves readers conflicted, drawn to Satan's charisma while recognizing his moral and spiritual corruption. This ambivalence reflects Milton’s genius, forcing readers to grapple with the nature of evil and the seductive power of defiance.
Together, these themes underscore why Paradise Lost continues to captivate even those who haven't read the full text. The felix culpa offers a lens through which to view personal and collective failures as pathways to greater understanding and renewal, while Satan’s complexity challenges us to confront uncomfortable truths about ambition, resilience, and the constructive role of rebellion.
Felix Culpa in Process Perspective
Fall as Creative Advance: In process theology, the fall can be seen as a moment in the "creative advance into novelty." The disobedience of Adam and Eve represents a turning point that, while tragic in one sense, opens the door to a deeper kind of relationality with God. The loss of Eden does not signal the end of divine grace but the beginning of a transformative journey where humanity, through its struggles and choices, participates in the ongoing co-creation of the world.
God as Co-Sufferer and Guide: In process thought, God does not plan or foreknow the Fall in a deterministic sense but experiences it alongside humanity as a moment of deep sorrow and creative potential. God offers new "lures" for becoming—possibilities for healing, reconciliation, and beauty that emerge from the pain of separation. The promise of redemption through Christ can thus be seen as God’s continual invitation to co-create a world that transcends the limitations of the Fall.
Grace as Greater than Eden: The idea that the Fall brings about greater grace resonates with process theology’s emphasis on transformation through contrast. Eden represents innocence, but the post-Fall world offers the opportunity for maturity and growth through experiences of loss, love, and redemption. This aligns with the process view that the greatest beauty often arises from overcoming tragedy and integrating its lessons into a broader, more complex harmony.
Hope in Adversity: The felix culpa underscores a process theological belief in the possibility of renewal. Even the most difficult experiences carry within them a lure toward something better, not because suffering is divinely willed, but because God works within and through every circumstance to call forth new life and possibilities.
Process and Atonement
A process understanding of atonement differs significantly from traditional Christian perspectives that focus on Jesus' death as a singular, substitutionary act necessary to satisfy divine justice or atone for humanity's sin. In process theology, the emphasis shifts toward relationality, creative transformation, and the ongoing work of God in the world. Here are key ways in which a process view reinterprets atonement:
Relational Atonement
In process theology, atonement is fundamentally relational rather than transactional. It is about the healing and reconciliation of relationships—between individuals, between humanity and the sacred, and within the broader community of life. Jesus' life, death, and resurrection are seen as profound expressions of divine love and relationality, inviting humanity into deeper communion with God and with one another.
Rather than emphasizing Jesus as a sacrificial substitute, process theologians highlight his embodiment of God’s loving presence. Through his ministry, Jesus reveals a way of being that aligns with the divine lure toward justice, compassion, and creativity, showing that divine love seeks to heal rather than punish.
The Transformative Power of Love
Process theology views Jesus’ death not as a necessary payment for sin but as the ultimate example of transformative love. Jesus’ willingness to face suffering and death demonstrates the power of love to overcome violence, hatred, and fear. His life invites humanity to participate in this transformative love, cooperating with the divine aim for beauty and harmony in the world.
Atonement as Ongoing Process
In traditional views, atonement is often understood as a completed event—Jesus’ death on the cross once and for all reconciles humanity to God. In contrast, process theology understands atonement as an ongoing, participatory process. Redemption unfolds as individuals and communities respond to God’s lure toward wholeness, healing, and renewal.
This perspective emphasizes that Jesus’ role in atonement is not limited to a single moment in history but continues as the living Christ, the Logos, who works in and through the world to inspire transformation and reconciliation. Atonement is not about erasing sin through sacrifice but about creating new possibilities for life, love, and justice in the face of brokenness.
The Universality of Redemption
Process theology is often universal in scope, seeing God’s work of atonement as inclusive of all creation. Jesus’ life and death are viewed as part of a broader divine aim to bring healing and wholeness to the entire cosmos, not just to humanity. This aligns with the process emphasis on interconnectedness, where the redemption of one part of creation contributes to the well-being of the whole.
The Cross as a Symbol of God’s Solidarity
Rather than viewing the cross as an instrument of divine punishment, process theology sees it as a profound symbol of God’s solidarity with human suffering and of the suffering of animals and the Earth. Jesus’ willingness to endure suffering reflects God’s intimate involvement with the pain and struggles of the world. God does not stand apart from suffering but is present within it, offering companionship, empathy, and the possibility of transformation.
In short, a process understanding of atonement shifts the focus from a singular act of substitutionary sacrifice to a relational, ongoing process of transformation and reconciliation. It emphasizes the power of divine love to heal brokenness, the participatory role of humanity in co-creating a just and compassionate world, and the inclusive scope of God’s redemptive work. Jesus’ life and death are seen not as payment for sin but as a profound expression of God’s lure toward beauty, justice, and harmony, inviting all creation into the dynamic process of atonement.
Relational Atonement
In process theology, atonement is fundamentally relational rather than transactional. It is about the healing and reconciliation of relationships—between individuals, between humanity and the sacred, and within the broader community of life. Jesus' life, death, and resurrection are seen as profound expressions of divine love and relationality, inviting humanity into deeper communion with God and with one another.
Rather than emphasizing Jesus as a sacrificial substitute, process theologians highlight his embodiment of God’s loving presence. Through his ministry, Jesus reveals a way of being that aligns with the divine lure toward justice, compassion, and creativity, showing that divine love seeks to heal rather than punish.
The Transformative Power of Love
Process theology views Jesus’ death not as a necessary payment for sin but as the ultimate example of transformative love. Jesus’ willingness to face suffering and death demonstrates the power of love to overcome violence, hatred, and fear. His life invites humanity to participate in this transformative love, cooperating with the divine aim for beauty and harmony in the world.
Atonement as Ongoing Process
In traditional views, atonement is often understood as a completed event—Jesus’ death on the cross once and for all reconciles humanity to God. In contrast, process theology understands atonement as an ongoing, participatory process. Redemption unfolds as individuals and communities respond to God’s lure toward wholeness, healing, and renewal.
This perspective emphasizes that Jesus’ role in atonement is not limited to a single moment in history but continues as the living Christ, the Logos, who works in and through the world to inspire transformation and reconciliation. Atonement is not about erasing sin through sacrifice but about creating new possibilities for life, love, and justice in the face of brokenness.
The Universality of Redemption
Process theology is often universal in scope, seeing God’s work of atonement as inclusive of all creation. Jesus’ life and death are viewed as part of a broader divine aim to bring healing and wholeness to the entire cosmos, not just to humanity. This aligns with the process emphasis on interconnectedness, where the redemption of one part of creation contributes to the well-being of the whole.
The Cross as a Symbol of God’s Solidarity
Rather than viewing the cross as an instrument of divine punishment, process theology sees it as a profound symbol of God’s solidarity with human suffering and of the suffering of animals and the Earth. Jesus’ willingness to endure suffering reflects God’s intimate involvement with the pain and struggles of the world. God does not stand apart from suffering but is present within it, offering companionship, empathy, and the possibility of transformation.
In short, a process understanding of atonement shifts the focus from a singular act of substitutionary sacrifice to a relational, ongoing process of transformation and reconciliation. It emphasizes the power of divine love to heal brokenness, the participatory role of humanity in co-creating a just and compassionate world, and the inclusive scope of God’s redemptive work. Jesus’ life and death are seen not as payment for sin but as a profound expression of God’s lure toward beauty, justice, and harmony, inviting all creation into the dynamic process of atonement.
Satan in Process Perspective
Satan as a Tragic Symbol of Misguided Creativity
From a process perspective, Satan embodies the misuse of creativity and freedom. His defiance, pride, and ambition represent a rejection of relationality—the fundamental interconnectedness of all beings—and a turn toward self-enclosed isolation. This disconnection leads to suffering not only for himself but for others, as his rebellion disrupts the harmony of creation.
Heroic Defiance and the Power of Persuasion
Satan’s charismatic qualities—his eloquence, determination, and courage—reflect a key tension in process thought: the potential for creative power to be used destructively. Milton’s Satan is a master of persuasion, embodying the idea that even destructive paths can be alluring. This speaks to the process insight that the possibilities presented to creatures are not inherently good or evil; it is their actualization in relation to others that determines their moral value.
Reader Ambivalence and the Nature of Evil
Process theology challenges static notions of good and evil, suggesting that even rebellion can contain seeds of transformation. Readers’ attraction to Satan’s defiance may reflect the process view that questioning and challenging authority can lead to growth, even if it also entails suffering. Satan’s downfall, however, serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of prioritizing self-interest over communal well-being.
Satan as a Mirror of Human Struggle:
In process theology, Satan can be seen as a figure who externalizes the inner tensions of human existence: the desire for autonomy versus the need for relationality. His tragic arc reveals the destructive consequences of choosing disconnection, but it also invites reflection on how such choices might be redeemed through reconnection and co-creation with God.
From a process perspective, Satan embodies the misuse of creativity and freedom. His defiance, pride, and ambition represent a rejection of relationality—the fundamental interconnectedness of all beings—and a turn toward self-enclosed isolation. This disconnection leads to suffering not only for himself but for others, as his rebellion disrupts the harmony of creation.
Heroic Defiance and the Power of Persuasion
Satan’s charismatic qualities—his eloquence, determination, and courage—reflect a key tension in process thought: the potential for creative power to be used destructively. Milton’s Satan is a master of persuasion, embodying the idea that even destructive paths can be alluring. This speaks to the process insight that the possibilities presented to creatures are not inherently good or evil; it is their actualization in relation to others that determines their moral value.
Reader Ambivalence and the Nature of Evil
Process theology challenges static notions of good and evil, suggesting that even rebellion can contain seeds of transformation. Readers’ attraction to Satan’s defiance may reflect the process view that questioning and challenging authority can lead to growth, even if it also entails suffering. Satan’s downfall, however, serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of prioritizing self-interest over communal well-being.
Satan as a Mirror of Human Struggle:
In process theology, Satan can be seen as a figure who externalizes the inner tensions of human existence: the desire for autonomy versus the need for relationality. His tragic arc reveals the destructive consequences of choosing disconnection, but it also invites reflection on how such choices might be redeemed through reconnection and co-creation with God.
Learning from Anti-Heroes:
Constructive Rebellion
Challenging Oppressive Systems:
Rebellion can serve as a necessary force for questioning entrenched hierarchies or systems that stifle creativity and relationality. In Satan’s case, his rebellion might symbolically represent a refusal to accept a rigid and hierarchical vision of divine order. While his defiance leads to suffering, it also reveals the inherent tensions in a system that prioritizes obedience over relational growth.
Catalyst for Transformation:
In the process view, destruction and creation are intertwined. Rebellion, even when flawed, can be a catalyst for deeper reflection and change. Satan’s rebellion forces the cosmos—and by extension, readers of Paradise Lost—to wrestle with questions of freedom, power, and the consequences of choice. These are essential elements of growth and evolution in process thought.
Exploring the Limits of Freedom:
Satan’s defiance is an extreme assertion of autonomy, a value that process theology respects as part of the gift of freedom. However, his rebellion also illustrates the dangers of severing oneself from relationality and the common good. By exploring the consequences of his choices, Paradise Lost invites readers to consider the balance between freedom and relational interdependence—a core tension in process theology.
The Role of Contrast:
Process theology often emphasizes the importance of contrast in enriching experience. Satan’s rebellion creates a dramatic contrast between harmony and discord, obedience and defiance, grace and alienation. This contrast deepens the cosmic narrative and highlights the value of relationality, cooperation, and shared creativity.
Rebellion as Creative Potential:
Rebellion is not inherently negative in process thought. It can embody the creative impulse to seek new possibilities and transcend the status quo. Satan’s speeches—eloquent, determined, and bold—capture the allure of rebellion as a creative force, even if his ultimate aims are destructive. This ambivalence reflects the dual potential of rebellion: it can either lead to chaos and isolation, or, when aligned with relational aims, pave the way for transformative change.
Rebellion can serve as a necessary force for questioning entrenched hierarchies or systems that stifle creativity and relationality. In Satan’s case, his rebellion might symbolically represent a refusal to accept a rigid and hierarchical vision of divine order. While his defiance leads to suffering, it also reveals the inherent tensions in a system that prioritizes obedience over relational growth.
Catalyst for Transformation:
In the process view, destruction and creation are intertwined. Rebellion, even when flawed, can be a catalyst for deeper reflection and change. Satan’s rebellion forces the cosmos—and by extension, readers of Paradise Lost—to wrestle with questions of freedom, power, and the consequences of choice. These are essential elements of growth and evolution in process thought.
Exploring the Limits of Freedom:
Satan’s defiance is an extreme assertion of autonomy, a value that process theology respects as part of the gift of freedom. However, his rebellion also illustrates the dangers of severing oneself from relationality and the common good. By exploring the consequences of his choices, Paradise Lost invites readers to consider the balance between freedom and relational interdependence—a core tension in process theology.
The Role of Contrast:
Process theology often emphasizes the importance of contrast in enriching experience. Satan’s rebellion creates a dramatic contrast between harmony and discord, obedience and defiance, grace and alienation. This contrast deepens the cosmic narrative and highlights the value of relationality, cooperation, and shared creativity.
Rebellion as Creative Potential:
Rebellion is not inherently negative in process thought. It can embody the creative impulse to seek new possibilities and transcend the status quo. Satan’s speeches—eloquent, determined, and bold—capture the allure of rebellion as a creative force, even if his ultimate aims are destructive. This ambivalence reflects the dual potential of rebellion: it can either lead to chaos and isolation, or, when aligned with relational aims, pave the way for transformative change.
Practical Applications
Embracing the Inevitability of Loss
As informed by a process perspective, Paradise Lost teaches us to embrace the inevitability of loss as part of the dynamic, unfolding nature of life. Adam and Eve’s story reminds us that life is filled with falls—moments when we lose what we hold dear or step away from what we once considered good. Yet, process theology assures us that each fall is met with an invitation to rise again. In every moment, God—the source of creative transformation—offers us new possibilities for healing, growth, and renewal.
Reimagining Loss as Transformation
This perspective encourages us to see our own struggles not as final defeats but as opportunities for transformation. When we experience loss, whether of a loved one, a dream, or a sense of innocence, we are invited to reimagine our lives in light of new possibilities. Like Adam and Eve stepping into an uncertain world hand in hand, we can move forward with resilience, openness, and trust in the presence of a redemptive power that works in and through us.
The Power of Relationships in Healing
A process perspective also calls us to recognize the importance of relationships in navigating loss and change. Just as Adam and Eve find strength in their mutual support and humility, we are reminded that healing and growth often occur in the context of community. Our connections with others can become sources of hope and renewal, shaping a “paradise” that is not lost forever but continually re-created through love, cooperation, and shared purpose.
Cultivating Hope for the Future
Finally, this way of thinking invites us to adopt a hopeful stance toward the future. Loss may challenge us, but it does not define us. Instead, it becomes a catalyst for creativity and transformation, a chance to participate in the ongoing adventure of life. Informed by process theology, we are called to trust in a God who is not distant and coercive but near and relational—a God who lures us toward beauty, wholeness, and redemption in every moment.
Working toward the building of Ecological Civilizations
This perspective of loss, transformation, and relational healing does not stop at individual renewal; it extends to the collective work of building ecological civilizations. Process theology emphasizes the interconnectedness of all life, urging us to recognize that the losses we face as individuals mirror the broader losses experienced by our planet and communities. The fall of Adam and Eve becomes not just a symbol of personal struggles, but also a call to action in a world fraught with ecological degradation, social injustices, and communal disintegration.
By embracing the inevitability of loss and reimagining it as an opportunity for transformation, we are invited to co-create a world where the dignity of all beings is honored, ecosystems are nurtured, and communities flourish. This involves stepping into uncertainty, just as Adam and Eve did, but with a commitment to resilience, openness, and shared purpose. Together, we can move toward a future where loss is met not with despair but with creativity and hope—building a paradise not as a static ideal but as an ever-evolving, dynamic reality.