The rise of science in the modern era has significantly challenged the authority of religious practices and even the very concept of religion itself. “Once you have an algorithm, it’s all science,” they say. “From now on, we don’t need God. Follow the science, right?”
As scientific methods have advanced—offering astonishing predictive power, driving unprecedented technological progress, and giving rise to artificial intelligence that, in some respects, appears to “know it all”—many people have come to see science as a better, more reliable, and more objective framework for understanding reality, morality, and even the purpose of existence. This shift in thinking can sometimes lead to a dangerous and misguided conclusion: that religion, faith, and trust in God are unnecessary relics of the past. In such a worldview, human beings see themselves as having everything figured out, with God reduced—at best—to an afterthought in the grand scheme of life.
But what becomes of the timeless idea, once central to life and culture, that we must thank God for every single breath—because the very next breath is never guaranteed? What about the conviction that one should never give up hope because God is in absolute control, and that in a single, unexpected moment, everything can change? What about the deep-rooted recognition that no matter how brilliant we are or how advanced our science, every success still depends on blessings from Above? In many hearts and minds, these ideas have grown faint, even fragile.
Let us now explore how modern science—particularly quantum physics—quietly but powerfully undermines the notion that we no longer need God, and instead reveals that the Creator remains essential in every moment of our lives. “It is He who gives you the strength to be successful” (Deuteronomy 8:18).
Just a few hundred years ago, physics was the crowning triumph of science. Sir Isaac Newton revolutionized our understanding of the world by showing that his laws could explain not only the humble fall of an apple from a tree but also the majestic orbits of planets around the sun. This gave rise to a bold and seductive idea: if the universe runs on physical laws, perhaps it is like a gigantic clockwork machine, ticking away according to fixed rules.
The most ambitious expression of this concept came from the brilliant French mathematician Pierre-Simon Laplace. He envisioned a hypothetical super-intelligence—later dubbed Laplace’s demon—that could know the exact position and velocity of every particle in existence. Armed with Newton’s equations and limitless computational ability, such a being could, in theory, calculate both the past and the future of the entire universe with perfect accuracy. In Laplace’s view, the present state of the cosmos—down to the smallest particle—would be enough to determine its entire future. The universe, under this perspective, would be entirely deterministic: every moment predestined, every outcome already inscribed in the laws of nature, leaving no room for surprises.
This vision captured the imagination of generations of scientists. And for good reason—Newton’s equations seemed almost magical in their predictive precision. The English astronomer Edmond Halley, applying Newton’s laws of gravity, famously predicted the return of a comet in the year 1758. True to his forecast, it appeared exactly on schedule. For the scientific community of the time, this was nothing short of breathtaking.
Even today, classical physics still allows us to make astonishingly accurate long-term predictions. We can calculate the timing of solar eclipses centuries in advance and determine planetary positions far into the future. If one knows where everything is and precisely how it is moving, Newton’s mathematics enables the calculation of where those things will be in the future. In such a worldview, the future seems not a matter of destiny but of computation—written into the immutable equations of nature.
However, the advent of chaos theory in the twentieth century revealed serious cracks in the dream of perfect prediction. While many natural systems are indeed deterministic in principle, they can be practically unpredictable.
No doctor, for instance, can promise with absolute certainty that a treatment will succeed. Weather forecasts work well for a short time, but beyond a certain point, accuracy plummets—not because the universe has suddenly grown mysterious, but because tiny uncertainties in initial conditions spiral into huge differences over time. This is the so-called “butterfly effect”—where the flapping of a butterfly’s wings could, in theory, set off a tornado weeks later.
If you live in South Florida, you may know this frustration firsthand. Hurricane paths may be projected well in advance, only for those paths to shift dramatically just hours before landfall. Even with satellites, supercomputers, and armies of meteorologists, nature keeps her secrets. The truth is, no matter how much data we gather, chaotic systems remain only predictably chaotic. We may understand their nature, but perfect long-term prediction eludes us.
Scientists often reassure us that these limits are due to practical constraints rather than fundamental randomness. They argue that if—and it’s a colossal if—we somehow possessed perfect knowledge of every initial condition in the universe, then macroscale events governed by deterministic physics could be forecast with extreme precision. Yet, as history has shown, such perfect knowledge is eternally beyond our reach.
And so it is that even at the Newtonian level of physics, accurate predictions will never be absolute. God, it seems, reserves the final say. This truth resonates with the words of our Sages: “It is not upon you to finish the work, but neither are you free to desist from it” (Pirkei Avot 2:16). We strive; we calculate; we prepare. But the ultimate outcome rests in hands higher than ours.
The most profound blow to the notion of an entirely deterministic universe came with the birth of quantum mechanics in the early twentieth century.
Whereas classical physics offers a limited comforting determinism, quantum physics refuses to speak in certainties. It can only predict probabilities. The exact moment a radioactive atom will decay is, by all appearances, inherently random. We may predict the statistical behavior of a collection of atoms, but for any single particle, the timing is unknowable.
Layer onto this the Heisenberg uncertainty principle, which asserts that one cannot simultaneously know certain pairs of properties—such as position and momentum—with infinite precision. This makes perfect initial knowledge impossible, shredding Laplace’s dream at the microscopic level.
Furthermore, quantum particles do not occupy single definite states until they are measured. Instead, they exist in superpositions—multiple possibilities coexisting—until the act of measurement forces the system into one outcome or another. This “collapse” of the wavefunction appears to happen randomly, with no underlying cause accessible to us. Such indeterminacy strikes directly at the heart of the deterministic universe model.
Some great scientists, most notably Albert Einstein, found this randomness unacceptable, suspecting that there must be “hidden variables” guiding the process behind the curtain. But experiments inspired by Bell’s theorem have strongly suggested that no such local hidden variables exist. Any hidden determinism, if real, would require nonlocal, faster-than-light influences—something most physicists find unlikely.
What this implies is profound: at the deepest foundation of the universe, reality is not a fixed script waiting to be read. Instead, it unfolds step-by-step, moment-by-moment, a divine composition in progress. “God renews in His Goodness every day continuously the works of Creation”. Daily Prayers.
Current physics tells us that while classical systems can be deterministic in “theory” (though practically unpredictable due to chaos), quantum mechanics builds intrinsic unpredictability into the very fabric of reality. Thus, no matter our intellectual progress, the future can never be fully known with absolute certainty.
This truth harmonizes perfectly with God’s declaration through the prophet Isaiah:
“Remember the former things of old; for I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like Me. I declare the end from the beginning, and from ancient times things not yet done, saying, ‘My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish all My purpose.’” (Isaiah 46:9-10)
Recently, I heard the testimony of an Israeli soldier who had been imprisoned by Hamas and was one of the most recent hostages to be released. Locked in a dark, underground cell, his captor tried to convince him that no one was coming for him, that he had been forgotten by the world, and even by his own family.
His guard once fell asleep, clutching his walkie-talkie. The soldier, feeling desperation close in, prayed to God Almighty for a sign that he was not alone and not abandoned. As he prayed, the radio on his guard’s belt crackled to life—and, miraculously, a broadcast from Israel came through. Over the static, he recognized his mother’s voice. She was at a rally, calling his name into the microphone, declaring to the crowd and to the world: “We have not forgotten you. We will get you out of that hellhole.”
That moment of divine reassurance carried him through the long, brutal months that followed until his eventual release.
We labor, we calculate, we innovate. We deploy satellites, algorithms, and supercomputers. But the final word always belongs to God. Science can measure and model, but it can never replace Him.
In the end, as the Torah reminds us: “It is He who gives you the strength to be successful” (Deuteronomy 8:18).
Rabbi Shlomo Ezagui lives in North Palm Beach Fl. and is rabbi at https://jewishcommunitysynagogue.com/.