Forty Years of Science and Religion: Looking Back, Looking Forward [1 ed.] 1443894613, 9781443894616

Table of contents :
Dedication
Contents
The Science and Religion Forum
Acknowledgements
Contributors
Introduction: Forty Years of Science and Religion: Looking Back, Looking Forward • Louise Hickman and Neil Spurway
Part I
1 Multiple Perspectives, Levels, and Narratives: Models for Correlating Science and Religion • Alister McGrath
2 From Authority to Authenticity and Accountability • Willem B. Drees
3 Theology and the Natural Sciences: Necessity, History, and Context • Andrew Davison
4 Past, Present and Future: Thoughts on Science and Religionfrom the Next Generation • Michael Burdett
5 A Future for Science and Theology in Pastoral Hermeneutics: Equipping the Shepherds • Gillian Straine
6 Proofs, Pointers and the Wow Factor: A Relatively Obscure Durham Contribution to the Big Questions • David Wilkinson
Part II
7 Is the Dialogue of Science and Theology Self-Defeating? A Response to the “Harrison Thesis” • Michael Fuller
8 Integrating Science and Religion • Emmanuel Nartey
9 Towards a Bolder Engagement between Theology and Science: Learning from the Epiphany Philosophers • Fraser Watts
10 Science and Religion: A Future Source of Assistance for Ecological Commitment? • Fabien Revol
11 Forty Years of Bio-Theology • Neil Spurway
12 Emergent Consciousness and the (In?)sufficiency of Classical Theism for Science and Religion • Sarah Lane Ritchie
13 “He who descended is himself also he who ascended”: Exploring the Identity of the Son of God in Light of Quantum Holism • Finley Lawson
14 Science and Religion in Schools: Looking Forward and Looking Back • Adrian Brown
15 What do Teenagers Believe about the Soul? Findings from a Surveyand Interview Study with Upper Secondary School Students • Berry Billingsley, Mehdi Nassaji, Alessia Costa and Keith Chappell
Part III
16 The Birth of the Science and Religion Forum • Mike Poole
17 Forty Years of the Forum: A Few After-Dinner Reflections • John Hedley Brooke
18 Closing Reflections • Mark Harris
Index

Citation preview

Forty Years of Science and Religion

Other volumes in this series: Theology, Evolution and the Mind (ed. N. Spurway) Creation and the Abrahamic Faiths (ed. N. Spurway) Matter and Meaning: Is matter sacred or profane? (ed. M. Fuller) Darwinism and Natural Theology: Evolving perspectives (ed. A. Robinson) Inspiration in Science and Religion (ed. M. Fuller) The Concept of the Soul: Scientific and Religious Perspectives (ed. M. Fuller) Chance or Providence? Religious Perspectives on Divine Action (ed. L. Hickman) Laws of Nature: Laws of God (ed. N. Spurway)

Forty Years of Science and Religion: Looking Back, Looking Forward Edited by

Neil Spurway and Louise Hickman

Forty Years of Science and Religion: Looking Back, Looking Forward Series: Conversations in Science and Religion Edited by Neil Spurway and Louise Hickman This book first published 2016 Cambridge Scholars Publishing Lady Stephenson Library, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2PA, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2016 by Neil Spurway, Louise Hickman and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-9461-3 ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-9461-6

DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF DR. JEFFREY ROBINSON (1940-2015) SECRETARY AND TREASURER OF THIS FORUM

CONTENTS

The Science and Religion Forum ................................................................ x Acknowledgements .................................................................................... xi Contributors ............................................................................................... xii Introduction ................................................................................................. 1 Forty Years of Science and Religion: Looking Back, Looking Forward Louise Hickman and Neil Spurway PART I Chapter One ............................................................................................... 10 Multiple Perspectives, Levels, and Narratives: Models for Correlating Science and Religion Alister McGrath Chapter Two .............................................................................................. 30 From Authority to Authenticity and Accountability Willem B. Drees Chapter Three ............................................................................................ 51 Theology and the Natural Sciences: Necessity, History, and Context Andrew Davison Chapter Four .............................................................................................. 65 Past, Present and Future: Thoughts on Science and Religion from the Next Generation Michael Burdett Chapter Five .............................................................................................. 83 A Future for Science and Theology in Pastoral Hermeneutics: Equipping the Shepherds Gillian Straine

viii

Contents

Chapter Six .............................................................................................. 102 Proofs, Pointers and the Wow Factor: A Relatively Obscure Durham Contribution to the Big Questions David Wilkinson PART II Chapter Seven.......................................................................................... 118 Is the Dialogue of Science and Theology Self-Defeating? A Response to the “Harrison Thesis” Michael Fuller Chapter Eight ........................................................................................... 125 Integrating Science and Religion Emmanuel Nartey Chapter Nine............................................................................................ 136 Towards a Bolder Engagement between Theology and Science: Learning from the Epiphany Philosophers Fraser Watts Chapter Ten ............................................................................................. 147 Science and Religion: A Future Source of Assistance for Ecological Commitment? Fabien Revol Chapter Eleven ........................................................................................ 158 Forty Years of Bio-Theology Neil Spurway Chapter Twelve ....................................................................................... 168 Emergent Consciousness and the (In?)sufficiency of Classical Theism for Science and Religion Sarah Lane Ritchie Chapter Thirteen ...................................................................................... 179 “He who descended is himself also he who ascended”: Exploring the Identity of the Son of God in Light of Quantum Holism Finley Lawson

Forty Years of Science and Religion

ix

Chapter Fourteen ..................................................................................... 187 Science and Religion in Schools: Looking Forward and Looking Back Adrian Brown Chapter Fifteen ........................................................................................ 196 What do Teenagers Believe about the Soul? Findings from a Survey and Interview Study with Upper Secondary School Students Berry Billingsley, Mehdi Nassaji, Alessia Costa and Keith Chappell PART III Chapter Sixteen ....................................................................................... 206 The Birth of the Science and Religion Forum Mike Poole Chapter Seventeen ................................................................................... 208 Forty Years of the Forum: A Few After-Dinner Reflections John Hedley Brooke Chapter Eighteen ..................................................................................... 214 Closing Reflections Mark Harris Index ........................................................................................................ 218

THE SCIENCE AND RELIGION FORUM

Growing out of informal discussions which began in 1972 around the key figure of Revd Dr Arthur Peacocke, the Science and Religion Forum was formally inaugurated in 1975. Its stated purpose was “to enable and encourage further discussions of the issues which arise in the interaction between scientific understanding and religious thought”. These issues, together with the social and ethical decisions demanded by scientific and technological advances, have remained the subject of the Forum’s meetings since that date. In 2005 the Forum merged with the Christ and the Cosmos Initiative. This had been founded by the Revd Bill Gowland, a past President of the Methodist Conference, with the intention of bringing the latest knowledge of scientific thinking within the orbit of the enquiring layperson. Thus enlarged, the Forum is open to all, of any personal faith or none, who are concerned to relate established scientific knowledge and methodology to religious faith and theological reflection. Implementing its broad objectives, it seeks: 1) to encourage scientists with limited knowledge of religion, and religious people with limited knowledge of science, to recognise and appreciate the contributions of both disciplines to human understanding of life in the world 2) to provide an interface between academics active in sciencereligion work and public communicators – notably teachers, clerics, and those training future members of these professions. At every point, the Forum strives to extend recognition that science and religion, properly understood, are not antagonists, but complementary in the quest for truth. The Forum holds a regular annual conference, plus occasional smaller ad hoc meetings, and publishes a twice-yearly journal, Reviews in Science and Religion. Since 2008 it has also published edited proceedings of its annual conferences under the series title Conversations in Science and Religion. At the date of publication, the Forum’s President is Prof John Hedley Brooke (Oxford) and its Chairman Revd Dr Michael Fuller (Edinburgh).

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The lion’s share of the initial work for the conference on which this book is based was undertaken by Dr Jeffrey Robinson, who had for several years fulfilled the dual roles of Secretary and Treasurer of the Forum. Jeffrey’s sudden death, in April 2015, thus deprived the Forum of two officers at once, and left not only an aching void but considerable uncertainty as to what had or had not been done. Revd Dr Mark Harris, whose main concern as Conference Officer had, up to that point, been the programme of talks, therefore found himself responsible for substantially further work. The Membership Secretary, Mrs Hilary Martin, and Chairman, Revd Dr Michael Fuller, also made greatly increased contributions. The Forum’s members owe all three of them the warmest appreciation. Jeffrey’s death likewise complicated matters for the staff of St John’s College, Durham, where the conference was to be held. Under the exceptionally helpful leadership of Mrs Sue Hobson they rose to the challenge splendidly, and hosted an admirable meeting in terms of accommodation, facilities and food. It is a pleasure to thank them too. Sincere thanks must also go to Aamina Amdavadi who worked with one of the book’s editors (LH) in preparing this book for publication, and to the Newman University Students as Partners scheme, which enabled us to collaborate together on this project. Grateful thanks are also due to Kate Snow for her careful proof reading of the final draft.

CONTRIBUTORS

Editors Louise Hickman studied at Exeter and Cambridge and is now Senior Lecturer in Philosophy and Ethics at Newman University in Birmingham. She edits Reviews in Science and Religion, the journal of the Science and Religion Forum, and has edited a previous volume in this series, Chance Or Providence? Religious Perspectives on Divine Action (2014). She has published several articles in the history of philosophy and is currently finishing her monograph Eighteenth Century Dissent and Cambridge Platonism, to be published with Routledge. Neil Spurway studied at Cambridge, but has worked in the University of Glasgow ever since, and is now Emeritus Professor of Exercise Physiology. He has chaired Glasgow’s Gifford Lectureships Committee, as well as the present Forum, been President of the Royal Philosophical Society of Glasgow and Vice-President of the European Society for the Study of Science And Theology, and also edited the latter’s journal, ESSSAT News. Alongside considerable scientific writing he initiated the present series and edited three of its previous volumes—most recently Laws of Nature, Laws of God? (2015).

Contributors Berry Billingsley, PhD, is Associate Professor of Science Education at the University of Reading and leads the LASAR (Learning about Science and Religion) Research Project there (www.faradayschools.com and www.lasarproject.com). Her co-authors in this book, Dr Keith Chappell, Dr Alessia Costa and Dr Mehdi Nassaji, are colleagues on the same project, which is concerned with school pupils’ responses to the public/media perception that science is an atheistic activity. John Hedley Brooke, President of the Forum, is Professor Emeritus of Science & Religion at Oxford. He has published extensively on history of chemistry, Victorian science and the historical relations between science

Forty Years of Science and Religion

xiii

and religion. His Science and Religion: Some Historical Perspectives was recently republished by Cambridge University Press in its Canto Classics series. His most recent book, edited with Ronald Numbers, is Science & Religion Around the World (Oxford University Press, 2011). Adrian Brown studied science at Cambridge, taught physics in Reading, morphed into a philosopher/theologian after postgraduate study in Nottingham and has worked in the sixth Form at Ecclesbourne School, Duffield, Derbyshire ever since. Books include Reassessing the Culture of Assessment: Weighing Pigs Does Not Make Them Heavier; The Big Bang and the Interfaces of Knowledge; and Changing the Climate (Grove Books, 2015). Michael Burdett is a Research Fellow at Wycliffe Hall, Oxford, a Member of the Faculty of Theology and Religion, University of Oxford and a Visiting Fellow at the University of St. Andrews. He holds degrees in engineering, physics, and theology and his academic interests lie at the intersection of science and technology, theology and philosophy. He is a Commissioning and Review Editor for The Marginalia Review in the area of Science, Technology and Religion and is an elected member of the International Society for Science and Religion. He is author of the books Beyond Genetic Engineering: Technology and the Religion of Transhumanism (Grove Books, 2014) and Eschatology and the Technological Future (Routledge, 2015). Andrew Davison is the Starbridge Lecturer in Theology and Natural Sciences in the Faculty of Divinity in the University of Cambridge, and fellow in theology at Corpus Christi College. He is the author of several books, including Care for the Dying: A Practical and Pastoral Guide (Canterbury Press, 2014), The Love of Wisdom: An Introduction to Philosophy for Theologians (SCM, 2013) and Why Sacraments? (SPCK, 2013). He is the canon philosopher of St Albans Cathedral, and a regular contributor to the Church Times and the TLS. Willem B. Drees is professor of Philosophy of the Humanities at Tilburg University, Tilburg, the Netherlands, and Dean of the Tilburg School of Humanities. He also serves as the editor of Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science. From 2001 until 2014, he held the chair in Philosophy of Religion and Ethics at Leiden University, the Netherlands. He has served as president of the European Society for the Study of Science And Theology, ESSSAT. He earned an advanced degree in theoretical physics at Utrecht

xiv

Contributors

University, and doctorates in theology and in philosophy (Groningen 1989, Amsterdam 1994). Among his books are Religion and Science in Context: A Guide to the Debates (Routledge, 2010), Creation: From Nothing until Now (Routledge, 2002), Religion, Science and Naturalism (Cambridge University Press, 1996) and Beyond the Big Bang: Quantum Cosmologies and God (Open Court, 1990). Michael Fuller, the Forum’s Chair, studied chemistry at Oxford and theology at Cambridge. He served as a priest in the dioceses of Oxford and Edinburgh, and for 15 years oversaw ministerial training for the Scottish Episcopal Church. He is a teaching Fellow at New College, Edinburgh, and an Honorary Canon of Edinburgh Cathedral. Alongside many papers he has written or edited seven books, and in the science & religion field, three in the present series (most recently The Concept of the Soul, 2014). Mark Harris, the Forum’s Conference Secretary, is Senior Lecturer in Science and Religion at Edinburgh and runs the MSc and PhD programmes in that field. A former physicist, he is interested in the complex and subtle relationship between physics and religious belief, and is working on a long-standing project on the question of scientific and theological views of physical reality and the laws of nature. He is the author of The Nature of Creation: Examining the Bible and Science (Acumen, 2013). Finley Lawson completed his BA in Philosophy and Theology at Heythrop College, London in 2008, and returned in 2012 to study for an MRes in Philosophy with a thesis titled Eternity and Time in Science: What Role do the Theories of Relativity Play in the Formation of a Coherent Model of Eternity? He is now working for a PhD in Theology at King’s College, London, examining our understanding of the Second Person of the Trinity in light of quantum holism. Alister McGrath is Andreas Idreos Professor of Science and Religion at the University of Oxford, and Director of the Ian Ramsey Centre for Science and Religion. He holds three earned Oxford doctorates, in molecular biophysics; historical and systematic theology; and science and religion. His most recent book is Inventing the Universe: Why we can’t stop talking about Science, Faith, and God (Hodder & Stoughton, 2015), which was declared one of the best 2015 books on religion by Library Journal.

Forty Years of Science and Religion

xv

Emmanuel Nartey, BA (Legon), PhD (Fordham), is Associate Professor of Philosophy at The City University of New York. His research interests include Early Modern Philosophy, Philosophy of Mind, and Philosophy of Religion. He has published papers on hylomorphism, philosophical perspectives during the Middle Ages, omniscience and free actions, Descartes and mind-body problems. His book, Nature, Mind and Hylomorphism (Springer-Verlag), is forthcoming. Michael Poole trained as a physicist and became Head of Physics at a London comprehensive school. Three years’ broadcasting on science and religion for overseas audiences led to a lectureship in Science Education at King's College London. He remains a Visiting Research Fellow there. He has written several books and some eighty papers and articles on science and religion for educationalists and a general readership, cf. www.kcl.ac.uk /sspp/departments/education/people/academic/poolem.aspx. Fabien Revol is Assistant Coordinator of the Chair in Science and Religion, and coordinator of the Chair “Jean Bastaire, for a Christian Approach of Integral Ecology” at the Université Catholique de Lyon, from which he holds doctorates in both theology and philosophy. His research is in the fields of theology of creation, science and religion, and theology of ecology. He is the author of Le temps de la création (Cerf, 2015) and La nouveauté dans l’histoire de la nature (Vrin, 2015). Sarah Lane Ritchie is a PhD candidate in Science and Religion at the University of Edinburgh. She previously completed a BA in Philosophy and Religion from Spring Arbor University in Michigan in the United States, a Master of Divinity at Princeton Theological Seminary, and an MSc in Science and Religion at Edinburgh. Her research interests include divine action, consciousness, naturalism, and pneumatology. Gillian Straine is an ordained priest and former research physicist. She received her BSc (2000) in Physics from Imperial College London, and defended her PhD (2005) at the same institution. Gillian also holds an MA (2008) in Theology from the University of Oxford. Her main academic interest is the dialogue between science and religion, and she seeks to use both her training in science communication and homiletics to communicate broadly outside the academy, publishing Introducing Science and Religion: A Path through Polemic (SPCK) in 2014. Gillian's current research focuses upon interdisciplinary work, engaging with practical theology, and in particular using this approach to explore cancer,

xvi

Contributors

science and theology, and will be published in 2017 as Cancer: A Pilgrim's Guide (SPCK). She is a Trustee of the Christian Evidence Society, and blogs at www.gillianstraine.com. Fraser Watts is Reader Emeritus in Science and Religion in the University of Cambridge, and a past President of the International Society for the Study of Science and Religion. Amongst earlier positions he was Senior Scientist in the MRC Applied Psychology Unit in Cambridge. His publications (with co-authors) include The Psychology of Religious Knowing; Psychology for Christian Ministry; and, most recently, Evolution, Religion and Cognitive Science (Oxford University Press, 2014). David Wilkinson is Principal of St John’s College and Professor in the Department of Theology and Religion, Durham University. He is widely published in the field and his latest books include When I Pray What Does God Do? (Monarch, 2015), Christian Eschatology and the Physical Universe (T&T Clark, 2010) and Reading Genesis After Darwin (co-edited with Stephen Barton, Oxford University Press, 2009).

INTRODUCTION FORTY YEARS OF SCIENCE AND RELIGION: LOOKING BACK, LOOKING FORWARD LOUISE HICKMAN AND NEIL SPURWAY

This book is the result of a celebration. In 2015 the UK’s Science and Religion Forum marked its fortieth anniversary with a conference dedicated to commemorating the last four decades of scholarship in science and religion and to making a contribution to its future. The Forum’s conference is an annual event. This one, however, offered a unique opportunity to reflect on the broad panorama of the field and its future prospects, together with the distinctive contribution of the Forum itself. The chapters presented here have grown out of contributions originally presented at our anniversary gathering. Taken together they constitute a book that offers more than just a map of where we have been or where we might go: they also contribute something to the shaping of the future terrain, actively moving us forward into territory that is theologically fruitful while offering reflection on how we might envisage the ideals and goals underpinning the field itself.

Part I The first part of the book is comprised of chapters written by authors who were invited plenary speakers at the conference. Alister McGrath needs no introduction given his substantial contribution to the field of science and religion over the years. In Chapter One he offers some reflections on his own personal journey into the discipline while outlining three different ways of understanding the relationship between science and religion. The first highlights the fact that science and theology are concerned with the same world and so might be thought multiple perspectives on the same reality. The second critical realist approach posits different strata of reality each with their own appropriate research

2

Introduction

methods, while the third approach treats science and religion as different narratives about reality. McGrath shows us how understanding religion as narrative, as a way of shaping meaning and giving cultural identity, grants the narrative of religion something irreducible and allows it a unique role in making sense of our experience. In Chapter Two (based on the public Gowland Lecture at the conference) Willem Drees offers an invaluable reflection on the changing landscape of science and religion in light of recent insights provided by religious studies and sociology. Secularization and individualism have shifted the very meaning of what it is to be “religious”. In light of this, Drees offers an important new way of thinking about the relationship between science and theology. In looking towards the future he considers how science and religion might come together for common good. Science provides models of reality and religion models for reality (not least in the form of stories and visions). In this it is essential for helping us to reflect in a truly authentic way, not least on the human condition. Andrew Davison in Chapter Three offers a perceptive summary of science and religion since the 1960s. He identifies distinct periods of development, charting a shift from a bilateral dialogue to multilateral conversations marked by interdisciplinarity involving a broad range of partners. Along with McGrath he highlights the importance of acknowledging that science and religion concern themselves with the same world. Theology must therefore avoid “howlers”, as Augustine put it, by thinking correctly about creatures if we are to understand ourselves and our relationship to God. Davison makes a compelling case that this task would be well served with closer integration of the sub-discipline of “science and theology” with other aspects of theological study. The way in which science and religion has understood itself as a distinct sub-discipline of theology owes much to Ian Barbour’s work and the models of interaction between science and religion, which he first presented in the late 1960s. Michael Burdett undertakes a rigorous engagement with Barbour’s legacy in Chapter Four. A greater understanding of how Barbour has shaped the field is essential for imagining its future and Burdett takes the opportunity to sketch some avenues crucial for further exploration. His call for more dialogue between theology and technology is particularly pressing, especially given our fastdeveloping capability of transforming our human nature. Gillian Straine’s chapter makes an important contribution to this volume by bringing science into conversation with pastoral theology. She shows how science and theology might come together to form a broader self-understanding of human flourishing, to aid the pastoral care of those

Forty Years of Science and Religion: Looking Back, Looking Forward

3

affected by cancer—a disease still considered taboo—and to re-imagine the experience of suffering without unhelpful metaphors of war. Her Ricoeurian model is genuinely dialectic and shows us how human experience can be the “unifying focus for science and religion”. Theology can thus challenge damaging narratives and imagine new ones, while science—when it is the subject of theological reflection—can deepen selfunderstanding. One dominant feature of the conversation between science and religion historically has been natural theology. In Chapter Six, David Wilkinson offers a discerning reconsideration of the design argument drawing on Temple Chevallier’s interweaving of natural theology and revelation. The result is a theology of nature with rich insights that are ripe for development in light of recent scientific theories, including the concept of the multiverse and the prospects for the long-term future of our own universe.

Part II The second part of the book is derived from papers contributed by members and guests of the Science and Religion Forum attending the September 2015 meeting. It opens (Chapter Seven) with a consideration by the Forum’s current Chair, Revd Dr Michael Fuller, of a provocative claim by Prof Peter Harrison in 2015 that “[the] urging of a consonance between science and religion reinforce[s] the very conditions that make conflict possible. Advocates of constructive dialogue are thus unknowingly complicit in the perpetuation of conflict”. As Prof Harrison is one of the Forum’s VicePresidents, this might be anticipated as a somewhat incestuous, mutuallycomplimentary piece. It isn’t! Dr Fuller’s assessment is respectfully critical, and certainly contributes to the overall dialogue of the book. As the next Chapter (Eight) we place an analysis by Dr Emmanuel Nartey, of the City University of New York, of “three distinct understandings of secularization: the elimination of religion, the privatization of religion, and the differentiation of religion”. It is the third of these which Dr Nartey considers the most challenging for theists. In Chapter Nine Revd Dr Fraser Watts (Cambridge) then writes on the Epiphany Philosophers. In the third quarter of the last century, this group considered the Science-Religion interface with a radicalness we could do well to emulate, challenging the metaphysical assumptions underlying scientific practice, and emphasizing contemplative religion, with its experiential and empirical approach to theology. And in Chapter Ten, Dr

4

Introduction

Fabien Revol, of the Université Catholique de Lyon, views the study of Science and Religion as a source of commitment to tackling the ecological crisis of our times. One of this book’s editors (NS) documents in Chapter Eleven something of the range of biological questions which have been considered during the 40 year lifetime of the Forum. He is followed by Sarah Lane Ritchie, one of the impressively able research students assembled by Dr Mark Harris in Edinburgh; in Chapter Twelve Ms Lane Ritchie challenges the emergentist philosophy of mind proposed by Philip Clayton, and in particular his contention that here is the locus of divine action in the world. Another able research student, Finley Lawson (Kings College, London) presents, in Chapter Thirteen, an account of Christ’s Incarnation, in its various phases, in terms of quantum holism. If a scientific understanding of these theological concepts is validly to be sought, this is surely a most fruitful line of exploration. Part II ends with two chapters concerned with school education. The first of them (Chapter Fourteen), by Mr Adrian Brown (Belper, Derbyshire), reflects on changes in the school handling of Science and Religion in the past 20 years: many of them are for the better, but he could wish for a lot more. Finally, in Chapter Fifteen, Dr Berry Billingsley and colleagues (Reading) report a survey of the ideas about the soul of senior pupils in a sample of schools in England. I feel the pupils did pretty well: see what you think!

Part III This concluding section prints the texts of three talks which expressly, but less formally, looked at the past and future of the Science and Religion Forum and the discipline to which it contributes. In Chapter Sixteen Mr Michael Poole (Kings, London) recalls the very beginning of the Forum. Chapter Seventeen is the text of the speech given by the Forum’s President, Professor John Hedley Brooke, after the conference dinner. The first half of this offers reminiscences which admirably supplement Michael Poole’s; the second half looks forward with all the flexible perception which those of us who have the privilege of knowing John Brooke would anticipate. The future is the key theme of this book. Stimulated by John, we shall round off this Introduction with our own thoughts on the subject. The book concludes (Chapter Eighteen) with the end-of-conference reflections of Dr Mark Harris (Edinburgh), organizer of the meeting. He considers the current problems of the Science & Religion discipline, particularly in getting sufficiently recognized in the academy

Forty Years of Science and Religion: Looking Back, Looking Forward

5

(and, we might add, the churches, mosques and synagogues), but draws encouragement from the vision of the conference contributors.

Onward with Science and Religion Colleagues in this field are often rueful that the striking advances seem almost always to be scientific ones, to which religion and theology must respond. It is safe to say that theological innovations are not usually met with the fanfare of scientific advancements perhaps because developments in science are often highly technological and we are, as Heidegger suggested, technological creatures, enraptured by the pageantry of science, which has become our dominant narrative and primary way of looking at the world. It is worth remembering that religious thinking is a much older human activity than scientific thinking—even monotheistic ideas have been in circulation an order of magnitude longer than a recognizably modern empirical scientific outlook. On that ground alone it would be reasonable that science should seem to develop faster. More importantly, however, scientific advances are made possible by new equipment (and the money this requires!), in a way for which theological and religious thought can have no parallel. Consequently, we have no qualms about looking first at the developments in science foreseeable for the next few decades. There will surely be great progress in understanding dark matter and energy. It seems more than feasible that human understanding of space and time themselves will be substantially changed as a result, and some thinkers will be disposed to ponder the theological significance of these changes. Much the same, one trusts, will be the case with quantum nonlocality, and the fate of the currently standard model of sub-atomic structures. There will probably be aspects of both these topics which affect monotheistic thinking generally, and it is profoundly to be hoped that Judaic and Islamic metaphysicians will be as much to the fore as Christian ones. (One of the pleasures we both take in this Forum is that it is concerned with Science and Religion generally, not Christianity in isolation.) That said, however, the fact that (as William Temple commented) “Christianity is the most materialistic of all religions” will require that the special challenges of Christology—cf. Finley Lawson’s ideas in Chapter Thirteen of the present book—be explored in terms of whatever new theories of physical thought have crystalized, say, 40 years from now. But a particular application of quantum thinking which will presumably evolve in parallel with such developments, namely the multiverse concept, is one we predict will not affect theology significantly.

6

Introduction

Of all the self-delusions of pre-committed atheists, one of the weirdest is the belief that the multiverse concept is helpful to their cause: a Creator of the universe can equally logically create a multiverse. Biological science, in its areas most familiar to Arthur Peacocke, will surely have progressed markedly. The first effect, one prays, must be to show up, ever-more inescapably, the absurdity of the Discovery Institute and its nonsensical effusions about “Intelligent Design”. Much more interesting will be the serious work on the origin of life. The conviction of the biologist editor of the current volume (NS) is that this will be confirmed to have been a purely terrestrial process—which does not, of course, mean that comparable developments elsewhere in the cosmos are any less likely. A belief as weird in our eyes as that the multiverse is incompatible with theism is the notion that life on other worlds would be a challenge to religion. Indeed, the two misconceptions are ultimately similar. If a billion planets in the knowable universe harbour life, and there exist a trillion other cosmic systems of which the same might be true, is that not all the stronger reason to revere the Creator? One thing this does do, however, is make more pressing the need to consider our human ethical responsibilities with regard to space exploration and possible contact with life in other parts of the universe: what Ted Peters has called the field of “astroethics”. Recent developments in the study of genetics and technology have also been striking in their pace. Since the Human Genome Project was begun in 1990 the science of genetics has radically challenged the way in which we see ourselves and conceive of both our own flourishing and that of the wider world. We can alter our own nature today in ways we barely dared to dream of forty years ago. Considerations of imago dei and particularly human telos cannot be far away from these advances. So far we have considered possible developments in regions of the Science-Theology interface which were already being actively explored in the 1970s. The psychology of religion, by contrast, had then only been touched upon, and its neuroscience not at all. A start has been made in the last generation. Inauspicious early claims associated religious experience with proneness to epilepsy, but findings more encouraging to the believer have emerged from the measured studies, notably by Andrew Newberg and colleagues, of the most reproducible forms of religious discipline, prayer and meditation. Will some future experimenters manage to investigate the neurobiology of less predictable, yet non-pathological, religious events? And will the cognitive science of religion have matured

Forty Years of Science and Religion: Looking Back, Looking Forward

7

from its present stage of fervent hypothesizing to experimentally validated concepts concerning the mechanisms of belief? These scientific innovations are remarkable but many of the developments in theological thought in the last forty years should give us confidence that theology is not restricted to a rear-guard position of response to scientific advances. Whenever the official birthday of postmodernity (whether with the dynamiting of the Pruitt-Igoe housing project in Missouri in 1972 or with the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989), its growth into maturity has generated a myriad of theological opportunities. Even for those not much inclined towards celebrating this particular event, it has still opened up the possibilities of new metaphors, new ways of envisaging the methods of science and theology, new conceptions of language, and radically different ways of thinking about our own nature. The immediate future thus presents precious opportunities for theology, particularly in proposing alternative narratives to those of scientism and reductionism, and in challenging some of the more problematic conceptions of telos, salvation, and selfhood that dominant narratives of science and technology often unwittingly promote. Recent work in theological anthropology has much to contribute towards medical perspectives on disability, for example. In the immediate future, theology looks set to challenge further what actually constitutes a scientific “advance”. Forty years ago those engaging in science and religion were working in the shadow of the nuclear age. Today our scientific progress has made another form of global destruction much more pressing. In response to the ecological crisis, ecotheology will become even more invaluable by furthering its re-imagining of nature and human beings, and the relationship between them. Closely related to this, future developments in theologies of nature will certainly be of significant importance. Pamela Sue Anderson, Stephen Clark and Mark Wynn, for example, have recently highlighted how our way of seeing the world is inescapably ethical and theological. The world can be perceived in different ways: scientistically and reductively as something to be controlled, or alternatively as something to be contemplated and learned from. It is an unavoidable fact that science and religion concern themselves with the same world. Theologies of nature will thus continue to carve new ways of seeing the world, giving us imaginative new myths, symbol systems and narratives with which we might seek to understand ourselves and to live in the world. To conclude these ruminations, the most important move of all is to acknowledge that the essence of science, and also sometimes of theology,

8

Introduction

is to produce the unexpected—and that these are likely to be the most interesting developments. But this is the endemic risk of forecasting.

PART I

CHAPTER ONE MULTIPLE PERSPECTIVES, LEVELS, AND NARRATIVES: THREE MODELS FOR CORRELATING SCIENCE AND RELIGION ALISTER E. MCGRATH

Science and religion are two of the most important presences in western culture, and the exploration of their interaction continues to attract much attention and interest. The field of “science and religion”, in my view, needs some strategic redevelopment and an injection of a new sense of direction, in that it is showing signs of tiredness and routine preoccupation with issues that are in danger of over-exposure. In order to sustain this interest in the field of science and religion, both in the academy and wider culture, we need to be able to offer plausible and persuasive frameworks for understanding how each of its elements might relate to each other. In particular, we need to show that there are viable alternatives to the pervasive yet discredited “conflict” model of the relation between science and religion, which still dominates media discussion of the issues (Harrison 2015; Watts 1997, 125-38). This paper sets out three ways of understanding the mutual relationship of science and religion which I have personally found helpful over the last 40 years. My object in writing this paper is simply to offer them to my readers, in case they find them as helpful as I do. I am not for one moment suggesting that these three models represent a definitive formulation or conceptualisation of this relationship. My point is simply that they are helpful, opening up positive and constructive ways of understanding the relation of science and faith. Each allows us to see science and religion as distinct yet potentially complementary aspects of a greater whole, while respecting their distinct integrities.

Multiple Perspectives, Levels, and Narratives

11

Encountering Science and Faith: A Personal Narrative I myself first became interested in the interaction of the natural sciences and faith in the early 1970s (McGrath 2015). I was studying chemistry at Oxford University, and trying to work out how to hold together the Christian faith and scientific research. Up to that point, I had been an atheist, and naturally assumed that science and religion were mutually incompatible, having nothing of any interest or importance to say to each other. However, my discovery of Christianity as a serious intellectual option at Oxford forced me to reconsider this, and opened up ways of understanding the world and human existence. It is not my intention to produce an alternative to Ian Barbour’s fourfold categorisation of possible relationships between science and religion (Barbour 1966). Barbour’s approach reflects his own cultural location, and is perhaps best seen as a descriptive account of attitudes towards the relation of science and religion within American academic culture in the 1960s. It is undoubtedly helpful in some respects, particularly in understanding the relationship between physics and Christian theology. However, it offers a very flat and inadequate account of the complex historical relationship of science and religion, and fails to take the complexity of religion with sufficient seriousness (Cantor and Kenny 2001). My own approach is different. I write as someone who, after a period of atheism, had come to the conclusion that a positive and constructive dialogue between science and religion was possible (McGrath 2015), and who therefore was searching for theoretical frameworks that would help me to grasp the distinct identities of both science and religion while at the same time allowing them to enter into a meaningful dialogue. The three approaches that I will outline in this paper seem to me to offer us possibilities for a mutual enrichment of understanding of our strange universe, and our place within it, without a loss of intellectual integrity. To help you position this discussion, I need to tell you something about my personal history. I began my scientific career by studying chemistry at the University of Oxford, with a major emphasis on quantum theory. This was extremely demanding intellectually, but helped me grasp some of the fundamental difficulties of my earlier somewhat rationalist approach to the natural world. I then moved into the more biological sciences for my doctoral research. I was part of the large research team of Prof Sir George Radda in Oxford University’s Department of Biochemistry. My particular interest was the development of physical methods for the investigation of complex biological membranes.

12

Chapter One

Those years were very exciting, raising many questions in my mind— including some I will be discussing in this paper. Perhaps one of the most striking impressions to remain with me to this day was of the fundamental differences between the physical and biological sciences, particularly in relation to their specific research methods and the theoretical expectations attached to them. Immersion in two quite different scientific cultures made it clear to me that there was no single research methodology that could be applied comprehensively and coherently across the vast range of scientific disciplines. I shall return to the importance of this point later in this paper. As I reflected on the relation between my faith and my scientific interests in the early 1970s, two things became clear to me. The first was that I simply could not live with any kind of compartmentalisation of my mind, in which one hermetically sealed region was devoted to science and another watertight compartment to my faith. It was tempting to keep science and faith apart from each other, perhaps as rivals, and possibly as enemies. This had the advantage of convenience; yet I felt that this amounted to an evasion of legitimate challenges and questions that I would have to confront sooner or later. I had to find some way of allowing my love of science and my faith to interact, and face up to any intellectual challenges that this raised. My second insight was that I simply did not have the intellectual equipment I needed to deal with the religious side of my life. I knew I would have to study theology in detail if I was going to have the intellectual toolkit necessary for the exploration of the borderlands of science and faith. But how on earth was I going to do that? As I reflected on this, in conversation with colleagues, I gradually came to the conclusion that I ought to give up science after I had gained my doctorate, and focus on theology. I owe much to the wisdom of Jeremy R. Knowles (1935-2008), my tutor in organic chemistry at Wadham College before his departure to Harvard in 1974, who dissuaded me from an immediate transition from chemistry to theology. Knowles told me that my credibility as a serious participant in any dialogue between science and faith would rest on having a doctorate in a mainline science in the first place, and some publications in the field in the second. I took his advice. The first of these issues resolved itself in a manner that was surprising, both in that it was unexpected, and that it turned out to be less challenging than I had feared. I was an undergraduate at Wadham College, Oxford, and regularly attended college chapel on Sunday evenings. At one such service—I believe in 1973, but I have no written record of this—I heard Charles A. Coulson, Oxford’s Professor of Theoretical Chemistry, speak

Multiple Perspectives, Levels, and Narratives

13

on the relation of science and faith. Coulson was a fellow of Wadham College, and a well-known Methodist lay preacher. His sermon opened up ways of thinking that were hitherto unknown to me. He very generously gave me 10 minutes of his time after the service, in which we explored some themes of his sermon—such as the inadequacy of the “God of the gaps” approach, and the idea of science and faith as different perspectives on a greater reality. Coulson did not answer all my questions, but he gave me something which I now realise was much better—a mental map of possibilities, which I was able to explore at leisure in my own time. As you will discover from this paper, Coulson’s basic framework remains important for me to this day. The second issue resolved itself when I was awarded a senior scholarship at Merton College, Oxford in 1976 on the basis of my research work in the Department of Biochemistry, which had opened up some interesting new ways of investigating physical models of biological membranes. On examining the terms of this scholarship, I discovered that it could be used either to pursue advanced research, or a second first degree. I now realise I must have seemed incredibly manipulative to the college authorities, but I asked if I could do both—continuing my doctoral research in molecular biophysics, while at the same time studying for Oxford’s final honour School of Christian theology. For reasons I still do not understand, the college agreed. In the summer of 1978, I gained my D.Phil.––Oxford’s version of a PhD––in molecular biophysics, and graduated with first-class honours in theology. Having already published some scientific papers (including one accepted for publication while I was still an undergraduate), I felt I could now secure closure on my life as a scientist, and move on. I would now focus on the detailed study of historical and systematic theology, which gave me the intellectual framework I needed to reflect on how best to relate science and faith. By 1995, I felt ready to engage questions of science and faith in an informed way. In this paper, I shall be exploring three approaches which seem to me to have real potential to illuminate both the relationship of science and religion, and the ways in which they can engage and interact to yield a richer vision of reality. After presenting each approach and offering some reflections, I shall then ask how they illuminate one deeply flawed and inadequate way of thinking about the relation between science and faith— scientism. “Scientism”—a contracted version of “scientific imperialism”— privileges the natural sciences, holding that scientific inquiry enables the resolution of conflicts and dilemmas in contexts where traditional sources

14

Chapter One

of wisdom and practical knowledge seemed to have failed (Robinson and Williams 2014). Scientism has gradually come to be understood as: … a totalizing attitude that regards science as the ultimate standard and arbiter of all interesting questions; or alternatively that seeks to expand the very definition and scope of science to encompass all aspects of human knowledge and understanding. (Pigliucci 2013, 144)

Its chief vice is, of course, its perceived arrogance. For Mary Midgley, “scientism’s mistake does not lie in over-praising one form of [knowledge], but in cutting that form off from the rest of thought, in treating it as a victor who has put all the rest out of business” (Midgley 2014, 5). Yet we need to offer a better critique of scientism than this. A more rigorous engagement with scientism must offer a theoretical account of its distinct approach, so that this can be calibrated against alternative possibilities such as those I myself propose in my “narrative of enrichment” (McGrath 2015). So how can we conceptualize scientism? In this paper, I shall consider how each of the approaches I shall explore will illuminate the distinct identity of scientism and offers us ways of challenging its inadequacy.

1. Multiple Perspectives on Reality The first approach I wish to consider is that of Charles A. Coulson, which I first encountered back in the early 1970s. This is set out in a number of his writings to emphasize the fundamental coherence of science and faith (Coulson 1953, 1955, 1958). I had huge respect for Coulson, who had a stellar reputation as a theoretical chemist, yet felt it important to reflect publicly on the relation of the two sides of his life—his science and his faith. My brief conversation with Coulson after a college sermon, mentioned earlier, led me to reflect more on developing conceptual frameworks for relating science and faith. It will not surprise readers to know that the first such framework that I explored was that of science and faith as distinct yet potentially complementary perspectives on reality. Coulson’s personal interest in relating science and faith emerged during his time as an undergraduate at Cambridge University. Coulson refused to think in terms of an intellectual separation between his science and his faith, as if our experience of the world could be pre-assigned to self-contained and mutually agonistic “religious” or “scientific” categories. He was not prepared to countenance the notion of “some sort of hedge in the country of the mind” that separated these two domains (Coulson 1955, 19). Others might be prepared to tolerate such a

Multiple Perspectives, Levels, and Narratives

15

“dichotomy of existence”; he would not. Coulson was highly critical of any view that held that it was possible to allocate different intellectual locations for science and religion, or to regard these as domains which were under separate authority. It was, he declared, bad for science, and bad for religion—and it was especially bad for any coherent human attempt to make sense of the universe which tried to weave these components together into an integrated whole. Like any good preacher, Coulson knew the importance of powerful analogies in helping people to grasp difficult ideas. Coulson developed several such analogies to frame his discussion of the complementarity of science and faith. The best of these, in my view, is based on his love of mountain walking, which developed during his period as a lecturer in Scotland. In 1938, Coulson was appointed senior lecturer in mathematics at University College, Dundee, where he remained until 1945. He and his wife developed a passion for climbing local mountains. Coulson realized how the complex topography of the Scottish mountain Ben Nevis could serve as an analogy for the multiple perspectives on reality afforded by science and religion. Coulson often used high-profile public academic lectures as a means of stimulating interest in the field of science and faith. One of the most important of these series of lectures was the Riddell Memorial Lectures at the University of Durham in 1953, published as Christianity in an Age of Science (Coulson 1953). It represents one of his earliest assertions of the complementarity of science and faith. Assuming that many in his audience would be familiar with Ben Nevis, Coulson invited them to join him in an imaginative walk around the mountain, and reflect on what they saw. Seen from the south, the mountain presents itself as a “huge grassy slope”; from the north, as “rugged rock buttresses”. Those who know the mountain are familiar with these different perspectives. It’s the same mountain; yet a full description requires these different perspectives to be brought together, and integrated into a single coherent picture (Coulson 1953, 19). Coulson’s core insight is that “different viewpoints yield different descriptions.” The scientist might thus stand at the north side of the mountain, the poet at the south, and so on. Each reports on what they find using their own distinct language and imagery, adapted to what they see. Each looks at the mountain; each sees certain things and each tries to describe his encounter with the mountain in terms that make sense. Each devises a language that is suitable for his particular purpose (Coulson 1953, 20).

16

Chapter One

So where one observer might see grassy slopes, another might see a rocky mountain. Yet both are representative and legitimate viewpoints. For Coulson, this makes the need for an overall, cumulative and integrated picture of reality essential. “Different views of the same reality will appear different, yet both be valid” (Coulson 1953, 21). It was a simple analogy, and it is easily applied to the relation of science and faith. As we have already seen, Coulson refuses to allow that there are demarcated “scientific” and “religious” worlds, each experienced in different manners. It is one and the same world that is experienced— and that experience is complex, requiring and mandating both scientific and religious approaches. “The two worlds are one, though seen and described in appropriate terms; and it is only the man who cannot, or will not, look at it from more than one viewpoint who claims an exclusive authority for his own description” (Coulson 1953, 21). Coulson’s approach is helpful, but clearly requires further development. I later found a very congenial account of this approach in the writings of the philosopher Mary Midgley, whose reflections on the scientific and philosophical investigation of reality led her to conclude that most important questions in human life demanded a number of different conceptual tool-boxes that needed to be used together (Rivera 2010, 179). If we limit ourselves to the methods of science in general, or one science (such as physics) in particular, we end up locking ourselves into a “bizarrely restrictive view of meaning” (Midgley 1995, 199). Midgley’s approach demands that we recognize the need for “multiple maps” of reality. No single approach is adequate; we need different angles of approach and research methodologies if we are to grasp our universe to maximal effect. Like Coulson, Midgley knew the value of a good analogy, and provides one which neatly illuminates some of the major issues. She invites her readers to imagine a large aquarium, populated with many plants and forms of marine life. How can we take in this complex vista? We cannot see it as a whole from above, so we peer in at it through a number of small windows...We can eventually make quite a lot of sense of this habitat if we patiently put together the data from different angles. But if we insist that our own window is the only one worth looking through, we shall not get very far. (Midgley 2004, 40)

We need “many windows” on a complex reality if we are to represent it adequately, rather than reduce it to one particular perspective, which is both limited and limiting. So what does this approach tell us about scientism? I think it offers us a clear understanding of scientism as one specific approach to reality

Multiple Perspectives, Levels, and Narratives

17

which refuses to acknowledge that there are any other valid approaches. All questions are treated as if they are scientific questions; if science cannot respond to them, then they were not valid questions in the first place. The philosopher Roger Scruton sees the entire “scientistic” enterprise as an attempt to control reality, subjugating those of its aspects which are irritatingly open to other interpretations: Scientism involves the use of scientific forms and categories in order to give the appearance of science to unscientific ways of thinking. It is a form of magic, a bid to reassemble the complex matter of human life, at the magician’s command, in a shape over which he can exert control. It is an attempt to subdue what it does not understand. (Scruton 2013, 46)

My discussion thus far has, I think, made it clear that I welcome this “multiple perspectives” approach, both as a way of understanding science and faith, and as a way of helping us grasp why scientism is so inadequate. It was the first model for correlating science and faith that I encountered, and it served me well for many years. Yet over time, I began to become aware of weaknesses. One was the need to negotiate boundaries and privileges. Are all standpoints or angles of approach of equal value and utility? Or might one serve in effect as a normative standpoint, by which others are evaluated, and around which they are arranged? Coulson was clearly aware of this concern, but I do not believe that he resolved it. A second concern relates to the inability of the approach to do justice to the complex texturing of reality. It reflects a very “flat” view of the world, which seems inattentive and insensitive to the possibility of multiple levels or “strata” of reality. Religion is a complex phenomenon, which is a social reality, not just a set of ideas. At one level, it is a social phenomenon; at another, it is a set of ideas and symbols. So how can we do justice to the multiple layers of religion? One of my greatest concerns about the dialogue between science and religion is that this is too often conceived in terms of the relation between physics and theology. Yet both science and religion are far more complex than these two exemplars. Theology is one level at which religion works—but it is most emphatically not the only one, and many would suggest that it is not necessarily the most characteristic level. To explain what I mean, I shall turn to my second approach, which is framed in terms of multiple levels of reality.

18

Chapter One

2. Multiple Levels of Reality Although I had been aware of the limits of the “multiple perspectives” approach throughout the 1990s, it continued to be my main controlling image. There were, I think, two reasons for this. One was that the model, although clearly deficient in some respects, worked so well in others that I did not feel any great pressure to abandon it. If anything, I felt it needed supplementation, not rejection. But perhaps the more important reason was that I had not yet encountered any systematic approach that seemed to work better. At times, I felt I was on the threshold of discovering something better. As a scientist, I was perfectly comfortable with the notion of “levels of explanation”. This approach countered reductionist tendencies by emphasising that some explanations might be offered of certain aspects of systems which could not be applied to every other aspect of that system, or to the system as a whole (Potochnik 2010). I sensed that this approach was capable of further development, but was uncertain how this might be done. Happily, however, it turned out that someone else had developed a model incorporating such insights, which was capable of being adapted easily for the purpose of exploring the relation of science and religion. In 1998, I came across the form of “critical realism” developed by the philosopher and social scientist Roy Bhaskar (1944-2014). I soon realized that this could provide me with a conceptual tool that allowed me to affirm the ontological unity of reality while recognizing that this unity expresses itself at different levels, each demanding a form of engagement which is determined by the distinctive identity of the area of reality under investigation (Collier 1994; Gorski 2013; Shipway 2004). This opened up a helpful and constructive way of understanding the distinct approaches of individual natural sciences on the one hand, and the complexity of religion on the other. Other forms of critical realism certainly exist (Allen 2006); Bhaskar’s account of critical realism—which he earlier described as “Transcendental Realism” or “Critical Naturalism”—allowed the active exploration of social realities, thus opening up a rich conceptual toolbox for engaging the multiple levels of religious belief, practice, and communities. This form of critical realism insists that the world must be regarded as differentiated and stratified. Each individual science deals with a different stratum of this reality, which in turn obliges it to develop and use methods of investigation adapted and appropriate to this stratum. Stratum B might be grounded in, and emerge from, Stratum A. Yet despite this relation of origin, the same methods of investigation cannot be used in dealing with

Multiple Perspectives, Levels, and Narratives

19

these two different strata. These methods must be established a posteriori, through an engagement with each of these strata of reality. Charles Coulson used the analogy of looking at a mountain from different angles to explain his “multiple perspectives” approach. The “multiple levels” approach can also be illustrated from some aspects of mountains: their stratified geological layers of sedimentary rock, within which each specific stratum has certain internally consistent characteristics that distinguish it from other layers. For the purposes of our discussion, we can leave open the question of whether this is simply a heuristic device for conceiving the relation of the sciences in a visual form, or whether we can actually speak of such layers within the overall structure of reality (Bechtel 1994). On this approach, the three representative sciences of physics, chemistry and biology can be seen to exist as layers: physics is fundamental; chemistry builds upon physics, while extending it in ways which could not necessarily be predicted on the basis of physics alone; while biology builds further on chemistry, while extending both physics and chemistry in ways that could not have been predicted from a knowledge of those lower levels. Each level is distinct, and demands its own method of investigation and representation (McGrath 2002, 221-3). Those familiar with the writings of the great Scottish theologian Thomas F. Torrance will recognise these themes. Torrance developed them without having recourse to Bhaskar, through his own reading of works dealing with the nature of science, especially physics. For Torrance, all intellectual disciplines or sciences are under an intrinsic obligation to give an account of reality “according to its distinct nature” (Torrance 1969, 10). For Torrance, this means that both scientists and theologians are under an obligation to “think only in accordance with the nature of the given” (Torrance 1996, 9). The object which is to be investigated must be allowed a voice in this process of inquiry. Torrance argues that the distinctive characteristic of a “science” is to give an accurate and objective account of things in a manner that is appropriate to the reality being investigated. Both theology and the natural sciences are thus to be seen as a posteriori activities which respond to “the given” rather than as a priori speculation based on philosophical first principles. In the case of the natural sciences, this “given” is the world of nature; in the case of theological science, it is God’s self-revelation in Christ. Let me explain something of Bhaskar’s approach, and show how it is particularly illuminating in dealing with the nature of scientism. Bhaskar’s critical realist account of the relation of the natural and social sciences

20

Chapter One

affirms their methodological commonalities while respecting their distinctions, particularly when these arise on account of their objects of investigation. Naturalism holds that it is possible to give an account of science under which the proper and more or less specific methods of both the natural and social sciences can fall. But it does not deny that there are significant differences in these methods, grounded in real differences in their subjectmatters and in the relationships in which these sciences stand to them. … It is the nature of the object that determines the form of its possible science. (Bhaskar 1998, 3)

We see here a clear recognition that each science is determined by the nature of its object, and being obligated to respond to it in a manner which is appropriate to its distinctive nature. This approach can be summarised in this slogan: ontology determines epistemology. The nature of the object determines both the manner in which it can be known, and the extent to which it can be known. There is no mathesis universalis, no universal methodology for investigating everything, such as that proposed during the Enlightenment, and echoed by later writers such as Heinrich Scholz (McGrath 2007). We need, as Bhaskar suggested, “a conception of the world as stratified and differentiated” (Bhaskar 1975, cited in McGrath 2002, 212). Bhaskar insists that each stratum of reality—whether physical, biological or social—is to be seen as “real”, and capable of investigation using means appropriate to its distinctive identity (McGrath 2002, 195244). A complex reality, such as religion, will have multiple layers or strata, each of which demands to be investigated by a research method appropriate for that stratum. To apply a single research method to religion simply reduces religion to the level for which that research method was developed. Religion is indeed a “social reality”; it is, however, rather more than this. Equally, it could be seen as a “system of symbols” (Geertz 1968); again, this designates only one level of a complex reality. An example—not, by the way, used by Bhaskar himself—will help make this point clearer. Consider the concept of “disability”. What does this mean? It is obvious that it is a complex notion, with multiple levels. The World Health Organization developed a model—now generally known as the “International Classification of Functioning, Disability and Health” (ICIDH-2 or ICF)—which recognizes four such constitutive elements of “disability”, which can be categorized as follows: 1. Pathology, in which abnormalities arise in the structure of function of a human organ or organ system.

Multiple Perspectives, Levels, and Narratives

21

2. Impairment, in which abnormalities or changes arise in the structure or function of the whole human body. 3. Activity, in which abnormalities, changes or restrictions arise in the interaction between a person and their environment or physical context. 4. Participation, in which changes, limitations or abnormalities arise in the position of the person in their social context or environment. (World Health Organization 2001)

The ICIDH-2 model is important in creating a framework of understanding which clearly identifies the inadequacies of reductionist accounts of biosocial phenomena such as disability (Üstün et al. 2003). A medical model views disability exclusively as a problem of the individual person, caused directly by disease, trauma or some other health condition, which calls for medical treatment or intervention to correct the problem with the individual. By contrast, a social model of disability conceptualizes disability exclusively as a socially-created problem, rather than as an attribute of an individual. On the social model, disability requires social action, since it arises from a dysfunctional social environment. The ICIDH-2 model synthesizes what is true and useful in both the medical and social models, without improperly reducing the whole complex notion of disability to one of its aspects. This stratified account of disability allows a better understanding of both the problem and its potential solutions. Other examples of illnesses amenable to exploration using this model could easily be given—for example, rheumatoid arthritis (Fransen et al. 2002). To explore this stratified account of disability, we may consider the example of someone with a brain tumour. At the pathological level, a growth develops within the brain. This is likely to lead to an impairment of cognitive functioning, which may impact on the person’s activity, and subsequently on their social location. They might, for example, become unemployed because their job required certain cognitive skills which are impaired by the growth of the tumour. This model recognizes how pathology can impact on multiple levels of human existence, while at the same time refusing to reduce the problem to any one of these four levels. Like religion, it is a complex, stratified phenomenon. Let’s take this a stage further, and ask this critically important question: what research methods might be used to investigate disability? For Bhaskar, “the nature of objects” determines “their cognitive possibilities for us” (Bhaskar 1998, 25). This means that we cannot use the same research methods to investigate each of these four levels of the complex phenomenon we call “disability”. We must use methods that are adapted and appropriate to each stratum of reality. Positron emission

22

Chapter One

tomography (PET) is highly effective at detecting and locating brain tumours. Yet this research method has no utility whatsoever in the empirical investigation of cognitive functionality, which is better studied using standard tests such as the Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale (WAIS). Bhaskar’s critical realism allows us to see scientism as the improper imposition of a research method appropriate for one level of reality onto every aspect of the natural and social world (Bhaskar 1998, 2-3). For Bhaskar, as we have seen, “the nature of the object” determines “the form of its possible science”; scientism, however, insists that everything must be investigated using the methods of the natural sciences—even when these are not adapted or appropriate for the investigation of certain critical questions, such as issues of meaning or purpose. Scientism denies that there are “any significant differences in the methods appropriate to studying social and natural objects” (Bhaskar 1998, 2). Scientism thus reduces reality to what can be known through the application of one specific research method. Epistemology is allowed to determine ontology, in that the use of one specific research method determines what is “seen”—and hence judged to be real. Scientism is, on this approach, blind to the existence of levels of reality that cannot be engaged by the methods of the natural sciences—methods, it must be added, which were developed for other purposes. Science can no more investigate “ultimate questions” than PET can determine whether my toaster is working properly. This point is emphasized by the Spanish philosopher José Ortega y Gasset (1883-1955), who celebrated the cognitive achievements of science, while stressing its existential limitations: Scientific truth is characterized by its precision and the certainty of its predictions. But science achieves these admirable qualities at the cost of remaining on the level of secondary concerns, leaving ultimate and decisive questions untouched (Ortega 1967, 259).

This stratified approach to science and religion has the enormous advantage of doing justice to their complexity and stratification. It recognises that the natural sciences exist in relationships of interaction and dependency, and that religion is a multi-layered phenomenon which cannot be reduced to any of its communal, symbolic, narrative or ideational elements. It does not displace, but rather complements, perspectival approaches. It also enables one to make some cautious judgements about the priority of certain levels over others, although these are open to misconstrual.

Multiple Perspectives, Levels, and Narratives

23

Yet there is more that needs to be said. One of the more fundamental concerns about Ian Barbour’s four-fold taxonomy of relationships between science and religion—conflict; dialogue; independence; and integration— is that it is of severely limited utility in allowing engagement with historical debates, in that these are socially and culturally embedded, often involving the dynamics of institutions (such as the church), cultural associations and historical memories, rather than the mere relation of ideas (Cantor and Kenny 2001; Harrison 2015). It is also of limited use in understanding the manner in which both communities and individuals assess and integrate the basic themes of science and religion. We therefore need a third approach, which is better adapted to exploring the social and cultural locations of the interaction of science and religion. In the final section of this work, I shall therefore consider a “multiple narratives” approach, which draws on insights from cultural anthropology and sociology in discussing how societies and individuals determine their view of the relation of science and faith.

3. Multiple Narratives about Reality My third approach helps us understand the cultural interaction of science and religion, particularly their interplay in relation to questions of meaning and value. Since about 1950, cultural anthropologists and others have noted how human beings use narratives as tools for the interpretation of complex realities, including our history and identity. [We] are animals who must fundamentally understand what reality is, who we are, and how we ought to live by locating ourselves within the larger narratives and metanarratives that we hear and tell, and that constitute what is for us real and significant (Ochs and Capps 1996, 19).

From an anthropological perspective, narrative is found to be a preferred way of making sense of experience across human cultures, which allows the narrator (whether this is an individual or a community) to impose order on otherwise disconnected events, and to create continuity between past, present, and imagined worlds (McLean 2008; Watson and Watson 2012). My own realization of the potential of this approach arose in the early 2000s, as I became increasingly aware of the role of “grand stories” in shaping worldviews. Both C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien offered sophisticated literary accounts of how such narratives could capture the imagination of a culture, and thus shape the ways it viewed certain questions––including, of course, the relation of science and faith. Lewis’s

24

Chapter One

critique of scientism often takes the form of reflections on how we can break the imaginative thrall of naturalism. My awareness of the importance of narratives became greater in 2014, as my growing interest in cultural anthropology led me to research the role of narratives in organizing human experience and shaping cultural identity. Although I was late in realizing the importance of such narratives, they now play a central role in my thinking about how the cultural location of science and religion is determined (cf. Pedynowski 2003). Why is this so important? The important point to appreciate here is that the relation of science and religion is often determined and positioned by cultural narratives—such as the Enlightenment’s foundational metanarrative of the liberation of humanity from the darkness of religious superstition through a cultural emancipation inspired by reason. The philosopher Charles Taylor has developed a complex and rich account of how such a “master narrative” gained dominance in western culture. This narrative is only one of several “broad framework pictures of how history unfolds”; it has, however, achieved a social dominance which helps us to understand how “disenchantment” arose in the first place, and led to the erosion of the cultural plausibility of the transcendent in the second (Taylor 2007, 573). Taylor frames discussion of questions such as the relation of science and religion in terms of the social dominance of a cluster of modern prejudices which he designates “The Immanent Frame”. This cultural metanarrative weaves together a number of themes, including the disenchantment of the world, an understanding of nature as an impersonal order, the rise of an “exclusive humanism,” and an ethic which is framed primarily in terms of discipline, rules, and norms. This “exclusive humanism” advocates a view of human flourishing which denies or suppresses any notion of a transcendent source of morality, such as God or the Tao, and which refuses to recognize any good beyond this life and world (Colorado and Klassen 2014). There has been a marked shift towards what Taylor terms “Closed World Structures” that tacitly accept “the immanent frame” as normative, seen in the fact that most people no longer see natural events as acts of God (Taylor 2005). Nature has become reduced to the predictable and quantifiable. For Taylor, this means that the dominant cultural narrative leaves no place for the “vertical” or “transcendent”, but in one way or another closes these off, rendering them inaccessible or even unthinkable. Taylor concludes that “Closed World Structures” now function as unchallenged axioms in western culture, making the assertion of alternatives seem irrational and counter-cultural.

Multiple Perspectives, Levels, and Narratives

25

Taylor’s analysis of the rise of secularism is of interest in itself; my concern here, however, is primarily to note how narratives are used to frame discussions of obvious relevance to the general field of science and religion, including such specific questions as the respective cultural locations of science and faith and the broader question of the perceived rationality of faith in God. The use of multiple narratives is useful to the field of science and religion in at least two ways. First, it helps us understand how certain ways of reading history have become influential in shaping contemporary attitudes towards religion. Narratives of the past—such as particular interpretations of the debates surrounding Galileo and Darwin––are subtly transposed into worldviews. If we wish to challenge the worldview, we must first engage the narratives on which they are based. That is why historians such as John Hedley Brooke and Peter Harrison are of such importance in today’s debates about science and faith (e.g., see Brooke 1991; Harrison 2015); they help us understand the genealogy of contemporary cultural prejudices. And second, it helps us grasp how stories shape meaning, rather than simply conveying information. Again, certain accounts of Galileo and Darwin are not seen as simply historical narrations, but are articulations of meaning and value, with Galileo and Darwin both acting as agents who embody and commend certain culturally embedded norms. Anyone wishing to study the history of science and religion, or to understand the contemporary cultural prejudices against a positive engagement between science and faith, needs to appreciate the importance of narratives as a tool of historical interpretation on the one hand, and as a means of cultural assertion on the other. Scientism can here be understood as a cultural metanarrative which proclaims the inevitable historical triumph of science, in much the same way as an earlier generation of bright-eyed idealists proclaimed the historical inevitability of socialism (Popper 1957). The infamous and largely discredited “conflict” thesis forms an integral part of this narrative, which frames the historical relationship between science and religion as antagonistic—a war from which only one party can emerge as victorious (Brooke 1991; Harrison 2015; Turner 1978). The narrative in effect positions and determines the relation between science and faith. Scientism is characterised by its insistence that this metanarrative alone is normative. It is not difficult to discern this narrative beneath the surface of the leading manifestos of the “New Atheism”. But how reliable is this approach? Anthropologists have noted that no single metanarrative, on its own, seems adequate to organize and correlate

26

Chapter One

the complexities of human existence and experience. This has been explored in some detail by the sociologist Christian Smith, who points out that we must—and, as a matter of observable fact, we do—use multiple narratives to locate ourselves within our world, and understand what we experience (Smith 2009, 63-94). Smith lists a number of such narratives encountered in the twenty-first century, which seem to provide frameworks of meaning for those who hold them. Examples of relevance to this paper include the Christian narrative, the Scientific Enlightenment narrative, and the Chance and Purposeless Narrative. Smith notes that those who affirm the primacy of one “master narrative” still draw on others to provide detail, texture and colour for their rendering of reality. If Smith is right, scientism cannot hope to sustain any exclusive claim to tell the truth and create meaning. If scientism proposes itself as the exclusive narrative of human identity and destiny, it will find itself entangled in and compromised by the complexities of human nature. Smith’s analysis suggests that we naturally use multiple narratives, even if we might privilege one in particular.

Conclusion I have set out in this paper three approaches to the interaction of science and faith which I have found helpful, not least in understanding the complexity of reality, and how easy it is for us to see only part of a bigger picture while believing that we see it in its totality. Reality is just too rich to be exhaustively, or even representatively, described by one tradition of investigation, one angle of approach, or one level of description. There are so many facets of existence that need to be explored, so many levels of reality to be engaged. That’s why we need multiple ways of looking at ourselves and our world. I have no doubt that there are other approaches that could be deployed. My purpose here has simply been to commend three that I have personally found illuminating and useful over my forty years of reflection on these issues. My own experience suggests that most people find the multiple perspectives approach most helpful, in that it is easily visualized through appropriate analogies. An appeal to multiple narratives is less accessible to many, yet offers important benefits for historical reflection, and underlies my own “enrichment of narratives” approach to science and faith (McGrath 2015). Thinking in terms of multiple levels gives many people a framework for assessing and critiquing reductionist approaches to human beings, perhaps the most compelling example of a multi-layered organism. In the light of this approach, most people can see immediately the

Multiple Perspectives, Levels, and Narratives

27

fundamental flaw in, for example, Francis Crick’s simplistic neurological overstatement: “You,” your joys and your sorrows, your memories and your ambitions, your sense of personal identity and free will, are in fact no more than the behaviour of a vast assembly of nerve cells and their associated molecules … You’re nothing but a pack of neurons. (Crick 1994, 3)

The “multiple levels” approach provides a framework which immediately identifies the problem with Crick’s statement, and offers a solution. We are indeed made up of neurons, and lots of others things as well—but that does not mean that we are nothing but neurons. This confuses a component or level within a system with the system as a whole. The answer lies in considering human beings as complex totalities, which cannot be defined or described in terms of any their constituent parts. In the end, however, I simply offer these three approaches to my readers in the hope that they will find them as useful as I have. Each offers its own distinctive angle of approach, and each is capable of further development.

References Allen, P. 2006. Ernan McMullin and Critical Realism in the ScienceTheology Dialogue. Aldershot: Ashgate. Barbour, I. G. 1966. Issues in Science and Religion. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall. Bechtel, W. 1994. “Levels of Description and Explanation in Cognitive Science”, Minds and Machines, 4:1, 1-25. Bhaskar, R. 1998. The Possibility of Naturalism: A Philosophical Critique of the Contemporary Human Sciences, Third edition. London: Routledge. Brooke, J. H. 1991. Science and Religion: Some Historical Perspectives. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cantor, G. and Kenny, C. 2001. “Barbour’s Fourfold Way: Problems with His Taxonomy of Science-Religion Relationships”, Zygon, 36, 765-81. Collier, A. 1994. Critical Realism: An Introduction to Roy Bhaskar’s Philosophy. London: Verso. Colorado, C. D. and Klassen, J. D. 2014. Aspiring to Fullness in a Secular Age: Essays on Religion and Theology in the Work of Charles Taylor. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. Coulson, C. A. 1953. Christianity in an Age of Science. London: Oxford University Press.

28

Chapter One

—. 1955. Science and Christian Belief. London: Oxford University Press. —. 1958. Science and the Idea of God. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Crick, F. 1994. The Astonishing Hypothesis: The Scientific Search for the Soul. London: Simon & Schuster. Fransen J., Uebelhart, D., Stucki, G., Langenegger, T., Seitz, M. and Michel, B. A. 2002. “The ICIDH-2 as a Framework for the Assessment of Functioning and Disability in Rheumatoid Arthritis”, Annals of the Rheumatic Diseases, 61:3, 225-31. Geertz, C. 1968. “Religion as a Cultural System”, in Cutler, D. R. (ed.), The Religious Situation. Boston: Beacon Press. Gorski, P. S. 2013. “What Is Critical Realism? And Why Should You Care?” Contemporary Sociology: A Journal of Reviews, 42:5, 658-70. Harrison, P. 2015. The Territories of Science and Religion. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. McGrath, A. E. 2002. A Scientific Theology: 2–Reality. London: T&T Clark. —. 2007. “Theologie als Mathesis Universalis? Heinrich Scholz, Karl Barth, und der wissenschaftliche Status der christlichen Theologie”, Theologische Zeitschrift, 62, 44-57. —. 2015. Inventing the Universe: Why We Can’t Stop Talking About Science, Faith and God. London: Hodder & Stoughton. McLean, K. C. 2008. “The Emergence of Narrative Identity”, Social and Personality Psychology Compass, 2, 1-18. Midgley, M. 1995. Wisdom, Information, and Wonder: What Is Knowledge For? London: Routledge. —. 2004. The Myths We Live By. London: Routledge. —. 2014. Are You an Illusion? Durham: Acumen. Ochs, E. and Capps, L. 1996. “Narrating the Self”, Annual Review of Anthropology, 25, 19-43. Ortega y Gasset, J. 1967. “El origen deportivo del estado”, Citius, Altius, Fortius, 9:1-4, 259-76. Pedynowski, D. 2003. “Science(s): Which, When and Whose? Probing the Metanarrative of Scientific Knowledge in the Social Construction of Nature”, Progress in Human Geography, 27, 735-52. Pigliucci, M. 2013. “New Atheism and the Scientistic Turn in the Atheism Movement”, Midwest Studies in Philosophy, 37:1, 142-53. Popper, K. R. 1957. The Poverty of Historicism. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Potochnik, A. 2010. “Levels of Explanation Reconceived”, Philosophy of Science, 77:1, 59-72.

Multiple Perspectives, Levels, and Narratives

29

Rivera, N. 2010. The Earth is Our Home: Mary Midgley’s Critique and Reconstruction of Evolution and its Meanings. Exeter: Imprint Academic. Robinson, D. N. and Williams, R. N. 2014. Scientism: The New Orthodoxy. London: Bloomsbury. Scruton, R. 2013. “Scientism in the Arts and Humanities”, The New Atlantis, 40, 33-46. Shipway, B. 2004. “The Theological Application of Bhaskar’s Stratified Reality: The Scientific Theology of A. E. McGrath”, Journal of Critical Realism, 3, 191-203. Smith, C. 2009. Moral, Believing Animals: Human Personhood and Culture. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Taylor, C. 2005. “Geschlossene Weltstrukture in der Moderne”, in Fechtrup, H., Schulze, F. and Sternberg, T. (eds.), Wissen und Weisheit: Zwei Symposien zu Ehre von Josef Pieper. Münster: LIT Verlag. —. 2007. A Secular Age. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press. Torrance, T. F. 1969. Theological Science. London: Oxford University Press. —. 1996. Theology in Reconstruction. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans. Turner, F. M. 1978. “The Victorian Conflict between Science and Religion: A Professional Dimension”, Isis, 69, 356-76. Üstün, T. B., Chatterji, S., Bickenbach, J., Kostanjsek, N. and Schneider, M. 2003. “The International Classification of Functioning, Disability and Health: A New Tool for Understanding Disability and Health”, Disability and Rehabilitation, 25, 565-71. Watson, T. J. and Watson, D. H. 2012. “Narratives in Society, Organizations and Individual Identities: An Ethnographic Study of Pubs, Identity Work and the Pursuit of “The Real””, Human Relations, 65:6, 683-704. Watts, F. 1997. “Are Science and Religion in Conflict?” Zygon, 32, 12538. World Health Organization. 2001. International Classification of Functioning, Disability and Health. Geneva: World Health Organization.

CHAPTER TWO FROM AUTHORITY TO AUTHENTICITY AND ACCOUNTABILITY WILLEM B. DREES

In 2015 the Science and Religion Forum celebrated its Fortieth Anniversary. In the same year, Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, which I serve as editor, was in its fiftieth year of publication. Such anniversaries provide occasions to reflect on religion and science today, on changes in the last forty or fifty years, and on the way forward. There have been major developments in science. I will very briefly discuss those below. However, I do not think these developments in science, impressive though they are, make the situation for “religion and science” fundamentally different. Far more important are changes in the character of religion, at least for people in “Western” countries. “Secularization” is a label for those developments. Secularization should not be understood as merely a numerical change, less people in the pews, though that is part of the story. More fundamental, in my opinion, is that what it means to be religious has changed. Being religiously engaged is more than accepting a particular set of beliefs, and certainly much more than might appear from the discussions on theism, atheism and naturalism that dominate religion and science discourse. Think of all the magic in video games and of the contemporary “Easternization” (Campbell 2007) and turn towards spirituality. “Religion today” will be discussed in somewhat more detail below, drawing on studies on the Netherlands and the United States. The secularizing trend is recapitulated in the title as “From Authority to Authenticity”. Very schematically, in earlier times one used to be born Roman Catholic, Anglican, Reformed, or whatever––and most people stayed with the tradition in which they were born and raised. Authority and community were given elements of one’s identity. The “Church”, of whatever particular orientation, was the source of authority. Those who

From Authority to Authenticity and Accountability

31

did not have a religious framework belonged to a particular social movement––say as social democrats or communists––and with that came identity, safety and a sense of duty. One might speak of this––schematically exaggerated –– position with the philosophical term heteronomy, as the law (nomos) is given from outside. The term might be understood easily when contrasted with its modern counterpart, autonomy, referring to the law being set by oneself. Whether the changes took place in the 1960s, earlier or later, the more recent mood––by way of contrast––can be described as a turn towards individualism. There is less stability in professions and jobs, in communities and in families. With the emphasis on the individual, the norm seems to have become “authenticity”; one has to choose––in work and leisure, in relationships and in religion––whatever fits best who one really is or aspires to be. Thus the first half of the title, “From Authority to Authenticity”, serves to characterize a cultural trend that has taken place. Rather than a given, as a community and an authority religion or spirituality have become a chosen orientation. Even those who claim to return to the purity of their religious tradition, whether in an evangelical Christian commitment or as radical Islamists, do so as their personal choice. In the Protestant Reformation, the call to return to the sources, ad fontes, of early Christianity evoked study to find out what early Christianity had really been. Without such respect for scholarship and historical nuance, current radicals have elected to accept the authority of a tradition on the basis of their own invented interpretation or that of a guru or leader who seems to them most authentic. Reflections on “religion and science” have to take on board this fluidity on the religious side. Assuming that there are two givens––religion and science––and that the question is how these two relate seems to me to assume a more traditional and stable understanding of religious traditions than fits our time. I do not accept the metaphor of “building a bridge”, even though I have great respect for the work of Robert J. Russell and the Center for Theology and the Natural Sciences, which uses heavily the iconography of the bridge (Drees 2003, 114-5; see www.ctns.org). Nor do I favour the ambition of a “dialogue” or even intellectual “integration” to overcome “conflict”, to use three major categories of the scheme of Ian Barbour (1997, 77-105). Even if “science” and “religious or non-religious existential orientations” are seen as fundamentally different human projects, as advocates of an independence view would maintain (see Bolger 2012; Ruse 2015), they might both be relevant when we seek to serve society. And even though they are different, there still are

32

Chapter Two

intellectual issues about the religious or non-religious orientations we hold. One should also be accountable for the orientation one chooses. Thus, the “Authenticity and Accountability” in the title. With a broader understanding of religion, the apologetic and theological orientation of much “religion and science” may be less relevant, but even then we engage science, technology, religion and human values. Given that beliefs have consequences, we should act responsibly. Thus, we ought to be held accountable for drawing on the best available knowledge for the positions we hold, or at least for seeking to avoid nonsense given what we currently know.

Science Today: Brief Comments Science has progressed enormously in the past half century. In physics, a much greater depth has been achieved, theoretically and experimentally. The universe as a whole became an object of study with the establishment of the Big Bang theory, followed by further refinements and by remarkable observational work on the universe at great distances. Developments in life sciences have had more immediate impact, from cells and DNA to gene expression, three dimensional understanding of proteins, and much else. Occasionally, current knowledge is that we know we must be missing something. On the basis of the impact of gravity, astrophysicists have concluded that the matter we see is only a fraction of all the matter that has gravitational effects; they thus have come to speak of “dark matter” and “dark energy”, terms that serve as place holders for current ignorance. While different branches of the natural sciences developed theoretically and experimentally or observationally, coherence across the disciplines increased as well. Different “levels of complexity” need their own conceptual vocabulary, but physics, chemistry, biology and the neurosciences are tightly connected. Some speak of reduction as “higher” phenomena being understood as materially realized in physical processes, while others speak of emergence as “higher” phenomena emerging out of more simple processes. As I see it, reduction and emergence are two terms that describe the same coherence, the same compatibility of different descriptions (Drees 1996). One more development, alongside greater depth in all disciplines and greater coherence across disciplines, is the pragmatic impact of science. We have an enormous power to manipulate the world, as shown by the creation of new materials, the possibility of genetic modification, and the rise of modern information and communication technologies.

From Authority to Authenticity and Accountability

33

Not all countries and cultures are equally involved in the development of science. Wealthy countries are dominant, given resources needed for research. However, in the natural sciences we encounter a model of knowledge that approximates fairly well the ideal of knowledge that is universal, independent of cultural, religious and political preferences. There is substantial variation in access to science, and the reception of scientific insights is clearly related to context and culture, but science itself seems to be shared, independent of cultural and religious values (e.g., McMullin 2012 [1983]; Ruse 2012). Science offers fascinating insights, handling the large and small with incredible precision. However, with respect to the discussions on religion and science, I do not think that there have been very fundamental developments since the rise of evolutionary biology, the discovery of the structure of DNA, the rise of quantum physics, and the experimental support for the Big Bang model of the universe––the last of these developments being in the 1960s. Some argue that philosophy of science, our understanding of the nature of scientific understanding, has changed more drastically than our understanding of nature itself. A most influential title has been Thomas Kuhn’s The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, which first appeared in 1962. Through his work, and the studies of many historians and sociologists of science, contextual approaches have uncovered the social and historical situated character of the natural sciences. This has been used to argue that science is not as reliable and rational as it had been taken to be. Which may be right; it is the work of fallible humans, with all their biases. Nonetheless, in a convoluted process of piecemeal improvements, in methods and instruments, questions, theories and conceptualities, and social structures such as universities with tenure and journals with peer review, we have come up with a mixture of empirical, observational and mathematical methods to approach reality which are remarkably effective and reliable by standards such as depth and precision, coherence, predictability, and pragmatic applicability (for one post-Kuhn reconstruction of science, cf. Kitcher 1993). Science, though a human product, is awesome as a collaborative, critical and creative social practice and in its understanding of the universe and the cell.

Religion: An Analytical Concept became an Actor Concept “Religion” has changed significantly, in ways that have a great impact on “religion and science”. Before we come to some “facts”, or at least numbers, a comment on the concept of “religion” and “a religion”. The

34

Chapter Two

more I have been involved in the study of religion, the more I have realized the many different ways the concept of “a religion” is used. It started as an analytical concept, a category imposed by outsiders in order to classify groups of people (Harrison 1990; Smith 1998). However, it has become an actor concept; nowadays, someone might say: “I am not religious”. As the two most important facets of religion, I would consider (a) a social one––belonging to a particular community, and thus adopting a particular identity––and (b) an individual one, of human existential orientations, of personal values and attitudes, “moods and motivations”, as we will see in a definition by Clifford Geertz, to be discussed later. In both contexts, beliefs play a role, as beliefs mark identity and legitimize values and attitudes. However, practices should not be underestimated, as these may strengthen a community and may motivate people to belong to a community, in the communal version, or serve to express one’s identity and attitude, in the more individualistic mode. To see how “religion” has changed in the last half century, I offer some figures from sociological research. Such research tends to focus on membership and participation, and thus the community aspect, though more individual issues of conviction also show up. I limit myself to Western countries, in particular the Netherlands and the United States.

Religion in the Netherlands: The Rise of Something-ism For my own country, the Netherlands, there are surveys that have been repeated every decade. We begin with figures on membership, of the Roman Catholic Church, of the major Reformed Churches (which merged in 2004), of other churches and religions, which includes smaller Christian denominations, evangelical groups, Jews, some Hindus, and as a consequence of labour migration, a number of Muslims which has grown since the 1960s, and those who do not self-identify as a member of any religious organization. Comparing figures from 1966 and 2006, we can see some trends (see Table 1). Membership has gone down considerably for all churches and religious groups together, from 67% to 39% in four decades. According to this survey, membership among the young and middle-aged is further down, especially for the two larger churches. Hence, the general trend may be expected to continue. However, membership need not be all. How important is the membership to the individual? Some numbers on engagement with one’s own church, based on self-reports, are given in Table 2.

From Authority to Authenticity and Accountability

35

Of those that are members of the major churches in the Netherlands, Catholic and Protestant, over 50% consider themselves “loosely engaged” or not engaged at all. Such members might show up for a service at Christmas, but not otherwise. Similarly for a question to whom one would turn for advice when facing a moral or existential conflict: In 1966, 35% referred to a pastor or minister as their most trusted advisor; in 2006, this applied only to 10%. Membership

1966

2006

2006

17-34 yr

35-54 yr

55 yr and over

Roman Catholic

35 %

16 %

9%

13 %

28 %

Main Protestant (reformed) Churches

25 %

14 %

10 %

13 %

18 %

Other churches and religions

7%

9%

12 %

8%

8%

No affiliation

33 %

61 %

69 %

66 %

46 %

Table 1. “Belonging to a church”, according to surveys in 1966 and 2006, and by age group in 2006 (Bernts, Dekker and De Hart 2007, 14 and 16).

The 2006 figure was significantly higher, however, among members of “other religious groups” (e.g., Evangelicals, more strict Calvinist churches, Muslims), of whom 43% listed their pastor or minister first (Bernts, Dekker and De Hart 2007, 31f.). There are also clear differences between the Roman Catholic Church and the major Reformed church on one side, as churches one tends to be “born into”, and the diverse category of “other” churches and religions, which include some churches one enters into by choice (e.g. evangelicals). The decline of the larger “established” churches indicates that religious socialization has diminished considerably. From 1966 to 2006, the number of non-affiliated has risen from 33% to 61%. However, in the same period the number of atheists has risen only from 6% to 14% of the population, far behind the 61% of non-affiliated. Thus, how do the non-affiliated understand themselves? For 2006, of those

Chapter Two

36

who self-described as non-affiliated, 23% self-declare as atheist, 35% as agnostic, 8% as theist and 34% as believing in “something” (Bernts, Dekker and De Hart 2007, 42). And, as another indicator, 29% of the nonaffiliated say they believe in life after death, 33% that they do not know for sure, and 38% that they do not believe in life after death (Bernts, Dekker and De Hart 2007, 49). Thus, in the Netherlands a few of the nonaffiliated self-identify as theists, and quite a few non-affiliated persons believe in life after death, or at least do not exclude the possibility. An agnostic orientation or “something-ism” characterizes about two-thirds of the non-affiliated. Engagement

Very intense

Intense

Loosely

Not at all

Roman Catholics

12 %

29 %

48 %

11 %

Mainline Protestant

22 %

24 %

42 %

12 %

Other religious groups

57 %

18 %

22 %

3%

Table 2. Engagement with one’s church, among affiliated persons (Bernts, Dekker and De Hart 2007, 19).

There is much less engagement among the affiliated (see Table 2) and much more belief among the non-affiliated than one might have expected. Secularization is a complex phenomenon. Institutional identification and personal belief do not align. A slogan that expresses this is: “I am not religious but I am spiritual”. For a more extensive analysis of the Dutch situation, focusing on consequences for public policy, see Van de Donk et al. (2006). For some information on the situation in Germany, see a contribution by Dirk Evers (2015). Are these trends typical for modern, Western countries? As a second context, let us consider a few figures from the United States.

Religion Today in the United States American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us by Robert D. Putnam and David E. Campbell (2010) offers extensive data and an analysis of religious involvement in the United States of America.

From Authority to Authenticity and Accountability

37

According to some of their numbers the American case is quite different from the one in Western Europe. According to a survey from 2006, in the US 38% would identify as an active member of a congregation, whereas a comparable number for Italy would be 9% and for France 4%. And 47% of Americans would claim that religion is “very important” in their lives, compared to 17% of the Swiss, 12% of the Dutch, and 9% of the Swedes (Putnam and Campbell 2010, 8-9). Flavours and intensities

% of population

Religious intensity

Evangelical Protestant

30

0.4

Roman Catholic

24

0.05

None

17

- 1.3

Mainline Protestant

14

0.1

Black Protestant

8

0.6

Other

3

- 0.1

Jewish

2

- 0.6

Mormon

2

0.5

Table 3. Flavours and intensities in the US in 2006 (Putnam and Campbell 2010, 17, 24).

However, variation in religious commitment among Americans is substantial. To illustrate this, Putnam and Campbell constructed a scale that indicates “religious intensity”; the number has no meaning by itself; it is normalized at 0 for the average. However, as Table 3 indicates, religious denominations (they speak of “flavours”) such as Evangelicals and Black Protestants are more engaged in their community than Catholics and mainline Protestants. Some American figures seem remarkably stable over many decades. For instance, in 1937 73% would have been a member of a church or congregation; in 1999, 70%. And in 1948 73% believed in life after death; in 2006, 70% (Putnam and Campbell 2010, 71). Despite the appearance of stability, there are indicators of major changes in behaviour.

Chapter Two

38

This is illustrated in Table 4 by figures on attendance during the adult years, considered by decade of reaching adulthood. To outsiders, the rise of Evangelicals in the United States might seem to indicate a religious revival among the younger generation. However, involvement in the evangelical movement peaked in the mid-1980s, whereas the category of unaffiliated “nones” continues to rise (Table 5). Decade of reaching adulthood

Nearly weekly attendance

1950s and before

40 – 50 %

1960s

30 – 40 %

1970s, 1980s, 1990s

20 – 30 %

2000s

15 – 20 %

Table 4. Church attendance by decade of reaching adulthood (after Putnam and Campbell 2010, 74).

As in the Dutch case, the majority of the non-affiliated are not outspoken atheists in terms of their personal beliefs. Rather, they prefer not to identify with existing religious organizations. Putnam and Campbell see a new market: Given the rise of religious nones, it would seem that there is a potential constituency for a new form of religion within the contemporary United States. We thus speculate that religious entrepreneurs will increasingly seek to reach into this untapped pool. (Putnam and Campbell 2010, 163)

According to Putnam and Campbell, the structure of American socialreligious life is congregational, and that might continue among “nones”, whereas the European model seems to be less conducive to the formation of new communities of such a kind. Perhaps there might be an opportunity for “religious naturalists” (e.g. Goodenough 1998) here, including those who founded the “Religious Naturalist Association” (RNA)––an orientation which seems to have been nourished by contributors to “religion and science” reflections. Perhaps the expectation of an organized replacement for those who do not identify with an existing religious tradition is a factor in explaining why organized “religious naturalism” so far is mostly an American phenomenon (see, for

From Authority to Authenticity and Accountability

39

instance, the list of advisors to the RNA on their website religiousnaturalist-association.org, and Crosby 2002; Hogue 2010; and Stone 2009). Among 18-29 year olds at that time

1973

1985

2000

2008

Evangelical

20 %

25 %

21 %

17 %

None

13 %

12 %

21 %

27 %

Table 5. Self-identification among 18-29 year olds (after Putnam and Campbell 2010, 125).

Is individualism and the plurality of religious organizations risky to society? Given the plurality of orientations and organizations, how do members of one group think of those with a different affiliation? Putnam and Campbell have figures on “exclusivity”, as they call it. Only 13% would hold that their own religion is true, whereas others are not. Another 6% would be sceptical of all religious claims, holding that “there is very little truth in any religion”. An overwhelming 80% holds that “there are basic truths in many religions” (Putnam and Campbell 2010, 543f). Thus, even though membership of a particular congregation is important, most acknowledge that other communities might be adequate too. Even among the Evangelicals, 75% would be non-exclusivists. Campbell and Putnam (2010, 523-7) explain this tolerance by the social dynamics that facilitate switching during a life time, entering into mixed marriages, and living in mixed neighbourhoods, thus giving rise to diversity within families and among acquaintances and friends. This acceptance of other views gives them reason to be optimistic about tolerance; the American pattern is “faith without fanaticism” (2010, 547).

The Changing Character of Religion: Some insights from the United Kingdom Numbers need interpretation. With Linda Woodhead, British sociologist of religion, I think that it is not merely participation that has changed. “Being religious means something quite different for young people today

40

Chapter Two

than it did for their grandparents” (Woodhead 2013, emphasis added; for a global view, see Woodhead, Kawanami and Partridge 2009). Woodhead points to changes in the political climate during the leadership of Margaret Thatcher (UK Prime Minister, 1979-1990) and Ronald Reagan (US President, 1981-1989). Their orientation and support base was conservative, but also anti-establishment. For Thatcher, herself a Methodist, this also was in opposition to the dominant position of the established Church of England. The paternalistic consensus, ridiculed already in the 1960s, became less and less a living reality. The climate became more individualistic. As one element in this cultural change, continuing with the religion into which one was born and baptized became less common. Religious identity became a matter of choice, even for those who stayed in the church to which their parents belonged. Evangelicals, Pentecostals and other independent churches and religious groups profited. So too did Western Hinduism (e.g., “transcendental meditation”) and Western Buddhism, not as an adoption of Asian religions, but as Western creations that drew on Asian elements, according to the argument by Colin Campbell in The Easternization of the West (2007). One sees a shift away from long-term membership in communities to a more fluid involvement; such shifts have been documented well in The Spiritual Revolution: Why Religion is Giving Way to Spirituality (Heelas and Woodhead 2005), based on a study of a provincial town in the United Kingdom. At the same time, Western European countries saw a more outspoken presence of a different religious presence, Islam, mostly among migrant communities resulting from colonial history (e.g. in France and the United Kingdom) and labour migration (e.g. in Germany and the Netherlands). A pivotal year may have been 1989, the year the Berlin Wall fell and the year of the controversy over Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses. As Woodhead (2013) writes, “the year in which the Berlin Wall fell marked the symbolic end of both the great secular progressive projects and of traditional religion”. Seeing a book being burned in the streets of Bradford, UK, must have been quite surprising to secular elites that had expected a gradual conformation to a liberal orientation. Outspoken “new atheism” has been fuelled by new assertions of “strong religion” (Almond, Appleby and Sivas 2003) such as the Rushdie affair, the attack of September 11, 2001 on the World Trade Center in New York, and the bombs in the London Underground on July 7, 2005. Fundamentalisms of various kinds are not at odds with the modern, individualistic orientation, but rather a possibility within the recent modern

From Authority to Authenticity and Accountability

41

landscape. Though nominally appealing to traditional resources, whether the Bible or the Qur’an, representatives of fundamentalisms have unashamedly modern ways of reading such texts, treating them as manuals that can be used without any sense of historical context or distance, and thus without any need for a hermeneutical or authoritative process of interpretation. Due to both modernism that did not see the need for membership, and fundamentalisms that were modern in patterns of reading and reasoning while appealing as if they offered a counter-narrative, churches that lost the most ground were those that relied on tradition – in membership “by birth”, in beliefs, and in interpretations. “The majority of the population in Britain today is left with some form of spiritual commitment—more informed by tradition in the case of older people than younger ones—but no visible means of institutional support” (Woodhead 2013). Quite a few dissociate themselves from “religion” and from “atheism”, as these terms are taken to stand for dogmatism and superficiality. To summarize the current situation for modern countries in the West: We see secularization, but not as a turn to science, naturalism and/or atheism. Rather, the trend might be characterized as a combination of indifference and of “believing without belonging” (Davie 1994), as the relevance of membership in a national church or a local congregation has gone down. Among the remaining members the older generation is overrepresented. More than half of the members self-describe as “loosely connected” or “not connected”. Thus, decline in membership will continue. Decline in membership is not only happening for religious organizations; other types of membership organizations see this too. The decline in membership does not correlate with an intellectual debate, as if membership is a consequence of shared beliefs, and one is no longer a member because one does not share particular beliefs. Most people are eclectic; they play with ideas. Some would consider themselves “spiritual but not religious”, while others are neither atheist nor religious but rather indifferent (or “just normal”, as Evers (2015, 509) reports a response from former Eastern Germany). In this context, we see changing sources of authority, a shift from a given community (citizenship, tradition) and its established leadership to the individual and his or her immediate friends and acquaintances, even when those immediate relationships are globalized, maintained via modern communication technologies. It is not that “spiritual seekers”, say adherents of New Age, Paganism and the like, are less engaged socially and ethically than members of traditional churches, though there is a slight shift towards environmental causes versus social justice issues (Berghuijs 2014). It is

42

Chapter Two

not moral engagement or “spiritual belief” that has changed, but the sources of authority people appeal to. With respect to values, we see a shift from values that emphasize citizenship, community, tradition and similar collective notions to a more individualistic orientation that makes authenticity the central value. Thus, authority that used to reside in religious organizations is now far more an individual and eclectic matter (see also Taylor 2007). A new voice for a religious organization such as Pope Francis may well attract attention, but that is not so much because he speaks for the tradition as it is because he is seen as authentic, an individual of interest. In Europe and in the United States, we witness a shift towards a society in which religious belief (often relabelled “spirituality”) is treated as an individual option, a matter of choice. That applies for those inside churches and other religious organizations as much as for those outside such organizational forms of belonging.

“Religion and Science” in a Changed World In “religion and science” discourse we encounter a lot of arguing pro and con about design and origins, relating these to the Bible or theological doctrine, apparently repeating the “natural theology” discourse of the 18th and 19th centuries. However, underlying these traditional discussions, we may also see within “religion and science” the changing landscape of religion. Advocacy of Creationism and Intelligent Design operates to a large extent independently from traditional religious structures, and would be misunderstood if taken to be the continuation of earlier institutional structures of religion. The controversies are typically shaped by coalitions of individuals in advocacy groups developing their own individual interpretation of religion. To me, an outsider, looking at the United States of America, the movement labelled “Tea Party” exemplifies a coalition of those who distrust universal ambitions in education, distrust government to organize the public good, and distrust “the establishment”, whether religious or non-religious. Not only New Age types or benign agnostics operate in a new landscape, with de-traditionalization and an elevation of authenticity, but so do adherents of charismatic and evangelical forms of Christianity, as well as of various other forms of “traditionalisms” and fundamentalisms. I think this is typical of the Western world, even for young Western Muslims. Wearing a headscarf has become a matter of self-expression. Radicals invent their own version of Islam with self-appointed leaders and

From Authority to Authenticity and Accountability

43

the use of modern resources such as the internet. In Islamic reasoning we occasionally see some of the older pathways engaging a religious authority that is heteronomous, external and given, for instance, in a set of articles on Islam and biomedical ethics in Zygon three years ago (Alghrani 2013; Ghaly 2013a, 2013b; Padela 2013; Rasheed and Padela 2013; Shabana 2013), but this seems more a matter of legitimization rather than of traditional authority. That the role of tradition assumed in such a debate on Islamic bioethics has become foreign to most Western readers but seems also somewhat instrumental for such Muslim intellectuals themselves, illustrates the cultural shift regarding religion in the West. The distrust of authority is not merely a distrust of religious authority. It also shows up as a distrust of science in many domains of life. About food or health, e.g. on vaccinations, people make up their own mind rather than follow “authorities”. Thus, “religion and science” also has to deal with changes in the standing of science and of scientific organizations. My own earlier writings are within the individualistic mood, though respectful of tradition. In Religion and Science in Context: A Guide to the Debates (Drees 2010a, 11-38), I distinguished various motives and agendas in “religion and science”. Some work is driven by an apologetic agenda, as apologetics for religion among science-minded audiences and as apologetics for science among the religiously minded. The second is more prominent in the United States, whereas the first is more typical for the European market, but there too we also have to consider the fact that for many “science” is not the source of authority that it might once have been. A task for “religion and science” is also to counter superstition—as the subtitle of Carl Sagan’s (1995) book The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark evokes – and the modern individualistic playing-down of consolidated knowledge. Another setting is intra-religious competition, as different groups and persons appeal to science or claim to follow a scientific methodology, in order to strengthen their own position and challenge others. Richard Olson (2011) described the “conflict” notion as useful in a competition between groups––by pointing out that when other views are in conflict with science, they should be dismissed. A further orientation, most individualistic in kind, is anthropological, to articulate how important features of human existence can be maintained when one accepts the scientific image of reality, including ourselves. Though such agendas in science and traditional religion are legitimate, they tend not to stimulate self-critical scholarly research (except for the work by historians of science and of religion), a somewhat pessimistic assessment on which I concur with Michael Ruse (Drees 2010b, 122; Ruse

44

Chapter Two

2015). Aside from the bias that might be stimulated by a particular agenda, I also think that we tend to lack clarity on the understanding of religion, and its changes in the contemporary world. As far as projects are apologetic for traditional religious traditions, or seek to retrieve traditional themes in modern forms (as I assume is the programme exemplified by Andrew Davison in Chapter Three of this volume), they might have a decreasing audience. What would be more constructive in our time? Let me first say something more on the character of religion, as the intersection of a worldview and an ethos. In my own efforts at an intellectual understanding of “theology” (the ideas-side of religion), I have learned from anthropologists, especially Clifford Geertz who wrote, fifty years ago, sacred symbols function to synthesize a people’s ethos—the tone, character, and quality of their life, its aesthetic style and mood—and their world view—the picture they have of the way things in sheer actuality are, their most comprehensive ideas of order. (Geertz 1973 [1966], 3, emphasis added; see Drees 2010a, 68)

A combination of ethos and worldview returns as the distinction between “moods and motivations” and “a conception of a general order of existence” in the definition of religion Geertz subsequently offered: a religion is (1) a system of symbols which acts to (2) establish powerful moods and motivations in men by (3) formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and (4) clothing these conceptions with such an aura of factuality that (5) the moods and motivations seem uniquely realistic. (Geertz 1973 [1966], 4)

As an anthropologist, Geertz clearly looked at groups and their systems of symbols and structures of authority. With the changes indicated above, we are more individualistic, and that is fine with me. But even then, “religion and science” has a similar dual orientation as that described by Geertz, seeking to develop a plausible “conception of the general order of existence” that is coherent with our attitudes and ideals and supportive of our “moods and motivations”, and one which has “an aura of factuality”. One might approach “religion and science” pragmatically, as the quest to find a combination of ethos and worldview that helps us to live well. Thus, one might see as the purpose of “religion and science”, alongside critical thought, the provision of constructive proposals for visions that integrate an ethos and an understanding of reality. If “religion and science” is a project to be approached via practical philosophy (social

From Authority to Authenticity and Accountability

45

philosophy, ethics), the question is how to think of the coexistence of two major but different human activities working together for a common good. Working together may respect differences in kind and status. The main concern then might be to understand the good, and the factors that help promote “the good”, as the opposite of “good” is all too often a disappointed “intended well”. Even if the driving ambition is “practical” (social, moral), we need critical intellectual consideration. Using the best available knowledge is a matter of intellectual honesty and of moral responsibility, especially as beliefs have consequences. The classic discussion is well illustrated in the essay by the mathematician William K. Clifford (1879), “The Ethics of Belief”, and the response by William James (1956 [1896]), “The Will to Believe”, which could have been better titled “The Right to Believe”, as James argues that under certain conditions where there is insufficient evidence, it is still legitimate to decide to hold a particular belief. How might science and religion work together for a common good? Arguing for “independence”, as Ruse (2015) does, may be sufficient for the theoretical interest in claims about reality, but does not present us with the particular roles science and religion could have. In working together, science is primarily a source of understanding, models of reality, and through technology a source of power, the ability to modify reality. Scientific practice also provides a model for good collaboration and for rational operation, and hence a normative example. Religions primarily provide stories and visions, models for reality. They could also help us reflect on the “human condition”, both individual and collective. One might hope that religions provide normative and inspiring examples, but given embarrassing examples from people who have religious offices or justify violence with religious motives, this exemplifying role should be treated cautiously, if at all.

SRF and Zygon: Responsible Platforms What might scholars in “religion and science”, such as those meeting in the Science and Religion Forum, contribute today? Their particular intellectual niche, it seems to me, is to engage and nourish science, and the intellectual ambition that comes by engagement with science, also in domains such as history, anthropology, psychology, the study of religions and the like. Not by dismissing human existential quests, as the new atheism seems to do, but also not by allowing “self-invented” varieties of science to stand for genuine science. Rather, the aim should be to bring a genuine scientific orientation to the table in the human, individual and

46

Chapter Two

communal discourses about our existential orientations and moral responsibilities, encouraging a constructive and critical reflection on worldviews and values. I would expect the Science and Religion Forum to serve as a platform for an intellectually and socially responsible encounter between our best available knowledge and methods and our values and forms of practical and theoretical human self-understandings present in our situation. I personally think that such groups should avoid becoming an advocacy group for a particular cause or vision, and rather be an environment that fosters good information and critical reflection, open to the plurality of orientations in our time. A journal such as Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science is a somewhat different beast. As a scholarly journal, also in digital form, Zygon can have a global scope. According to the report on 2014 from the publisher, Wiley, the journal is present in over 10,000 libraries, roughly 1/3 in North America, 1/3 in Europe, and 1/3 in rest of the world. The majority of the articles are written by authors based in North America, but a shift in submitted and accepted papers seems to be occurring, and as editor, that is certainly something I like to see. As the editor of this journal, I see it as my responsibility to provide a platform, but not so much one for participants in a conversation from person to person. Articles, hopefully, have been composed carefully by the authors, their arguments and presentations have been reviewed critically by at least two colleagues of good standing, and in most cases thereafter they have been revised in response to comments of the reviewers. Thus, a journal offers more than a private conversation; articles that appear in print should be well argued, based on good research and resources, and make an original point. By publishing certain articles, inviting some thematic sections, and drawing on particular conferences, Zygon does contribute to the shape of the agenda for “religion and science” discourse in our time. Zygon’s particular orientation is broad, with religious and nonreligious points of view represented, including voices from those representing more traditional forms of religion. The journal is broad in terms of its disciplinary orientation, including as authors natural and social scientists, scholars from the humanities and religious studies, theologians and philosophers, insiders speaking from within a tradition or particular scientific context and outsiders, describing “others”. A common denominator, for the journal, is that we emphasize the importance of science as done by scientists; engaging a self-invented alternative “science” is not engaging science as it is. If an author submits a manuscript that offers an alternative within science, say to Einstein’s

From Authority to Authenticity and Accountability

47

relativity theory or within contemporary biology, the author is referred to journals in those scientific disciplines, as the proper forum to evaluate such a claim would not be Zygon but the particular scientific community. Zygon aspires to be scholarly, providing opportunities for authors. As academic recognition depends on proper publications, I as editor am particularly open to contributions by early career scholars, though we also publish the scientist emeritus who reflects upon their discipline served for many years. In a changing world, with science providing an increasingly deep and unified understanding of reality that may seem more and more remote from human existential interests, and with existential orientations, whether religious or non-religious, becoming more and more individualized with “authenticity” as the prime norm, communities such as the Science and Religion Forum and journals such as Zygon should aspire to contribute both critically and constructively to a serious engagement with the best available knowledge and methods and with moral wisdom that respects but transcends personal “authenticity”.

Acknowledgments The article is the developed form of the Gowland Lecture, delivered on September 3rd, 2015, at the meeting of the Science and Religion Forum in Durham, UK. An earlier version was presented at the conference “The future of science and religion in a globalizing world”, the 60th conference of the Institute on Religion in an Age of Science, held at Star Island, NH, in the United States, August 2-9, 2014, and published in Zygon (Drees 2015). Drees also thanks the Dutch Science Foundation, NWO, for its support for the Horizon project “What Can the Humanities Contribute to our Practical Self-understanding?”

References Alghrani, A. 2013. “Womb Transplantation and the Interplay of Islam and the West”, Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, 48, 618-634. Almond, G., Appleby, R. S. and Sivan, E. 2003. Strong Religion: The Rise of Fundamentalisms Around the World. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Barbour, I. 1997. Religion and Science: Historical and Contemporary Issues. New York: Harper San Francisco. Berghuijs, J. 2014. New Spirituality and Social Engagement. Utrecht: Utrecht University.

48

Chapter Two

Bernts, T., Dekker, G. and De Hart, J. 2007. God in Nederland 1996-2006. Kampen: Ten Have. Bolger, R. 2012. Kneeling at the Altar of Science: The Mistaken Path of Contemporary Religious Scientism. Eugene, OR: Pickwick. Campbell, C. 2007. The Easternization of the West: A Thematic Account of Cultural Change in the Modern Era. Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers. Clifford, W. K. 1879. “The Ethics of Belief”, in Stephen, L. and Pollock, F. (eds.), Lectures and Essays, Volume II. London: Macmillan, 177211. Crosby, D. A. 2002. A Religion of Nature. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Davie, G. 1994. Religion in Britain Since 1945: Believing without Belonging. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. Donk, W. B. J. H. Van de, Jonkers, A. P., Kronjee, G. J. and Plum, R. J. J. M. 2006. Geloven in het publieke domein: Verkenningen van een dubbele transformatie. Den Haag: Wetenschappelijke Raad voor het Regeringsbeleid; and Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Drees, W. B. 1996. Religion, Science and Naturalism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. —. 2003. ““Religion and Science” Without Symmetry, Plausibility, and Harmony”, Theology and Science, 1, 113-128. —. 2010a. Religion and Science in Context: A Guide to the Debates. London: Routledge. —. 2010b. “The Multiplicity of Purposes of “Religion and Science””, in Evers, D., Jackelén, A. and Smedes, T. A. (eds.), How Do We Know? Understanding in Science and Theology. London: T&T ClarkContinuum, 121-141. —. 2015. “From Authority to Authenticity: IRAS and Zygon in New Contexts”, Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, 50, 439-454. Evers, D. 2015. “Religion and Science in Germany”, Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, 50, 503-533. Geertz, C. 1973 [1966]. “Religion as a Cultural System”, in Geertz, C., The Interpretation of Cultures. New York: Basic Books, 1-46. Ghaly, M. 2013a. “Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-First Century”, Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, 48, 592-599. —. 2013b. “Collective Religio-Scientific Discussions on Islam and HIV/AIDS: I. Biomedical Scientists”, Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, 48, 671-708. Goodenough, U. 1998. The Sacred Depths of Nature. New York: Oxford University Press.

From Authority to Authenticity and Accountability

49

Harrison, P. 1990. “Religion” and the Religions in the English Enlightenment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Heelas, P. and Woodhead, L. 2005. The Spiritual Revolution: Why Religion is Giving Way to Spirituality. Malden: Blackwell. Hogue, M. S. 2010. The Promise of Religious Naturalism. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield. James, W. 1956 [1896]. The Will to Believe, and Other Essays on Popular Philosophy. New York: Dover. Kitcher, P. 1993. The Advancement of Science: Science without Legend, Objectivity without Illusions. New York: Oxford University Press. Kuhn, T. 1962. The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. McMullin, E. 2012 [1983]. “Values in Science”, Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, 47, 686-710. Olson, R. 2011. “A Dynamic Model for “Science and Religion”: Interacting Subcultures”, Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, 46, 65-83. Padela, A. I. 2013. “Islamic Verdicts in Health Policy Discourse: PorcineBased Vaccines as a Case Study”, Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, 48, 655-670. Peters, K. E. 2015. “The “Ghosts” of IRAS Past and the Changing Cultural Context of Science and Religion”, Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, 50, 329-360. Putnam, R. D. and Campbell, D. E. 2010. American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us. New York: Simon & Schuster. Rasheed, S. A. and Padela, A. I. 2013. “The Interplay between Religious Leaders and Organ Donation among Muslims”, Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, 48, 635-654. Ruse, M. 2012. “Science and Values: My Debt to Ernan McMullin”, Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, 47, 666-685. Ruse, M. 2015. “Why I am an Accommodationist and Proud of It”, Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, 50, 361-375. Sagan, C. 1995. The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark. New York: Random House. Shabana, A. 2013. “Law and Ethics in Islamic Bioethics: Nonmaleficence in Islamic Paternity Regulations”, Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science, 48, 709-731. Smith, J. Z. 1998. “Religion, Religions, Religious”, in Taylor, M. C. (ed.), Critical Terms for Religious Studies. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 269-284.

50

Chapter Two

Stone, J. A. 2009. Religious Naturalism Today: The Rebirth of a Forgotten Alternative. Albany, NY: SUNY. Taylor, C. 2007. A Secular Age. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Woodhead, L. 2013. “How Religious Identity has Changed”, Blog on “Pandaemonium” web site, 15 August. Available at http://kenanmalik. wordpress.com/2013/08/15/religion-is-not-what-it-used-to-be/. Woodhead, L., Kawanami, H. and Partridge, C. 2009. Religions in the Modern World: Traditions and Transformations, Second edition. London: Routledge.

CHAPTER THREE THEOLOGY AND THE NATURAL SCIENCES: NECESSITY, HISTORY, AND CONTEXT ANDREW DAVISON

Attention to natural science is an indispensable task for theology, and always has been. At least, such attention is an imperative if one defines the task of theology as a whole in an expansive fashion, for instance, as thinking about God, about God’s dealings with creatures, and about creatures in relation to their creator. At the very beginning of his Summa Theologiae, Thomas Aquinas described the subject matter of theology in such a way,1 as being more or less “God and everything as it relates to God” (1912, I.1.7).2 Take that seriously and it will call not only for accuracy in our thinking about God, which is of course a tall order, but also for accuracy in our thinking about creatures. If the task of theology is to consider everything, albeit under the aspect of its relation to God, then attention to the natural sciences is indispensable, since the natural sciences offer an indispensable perspective on the nature of reality, for which nothing else can stand in. The theologian cannot properly think about creatures in relation to God, as their beginning and end, unless she understands those creatures fully: unless she understands what she is considering in relation to God. On that front, the natural sciences offer an irreplaceable perspective, although to say that does not mean, of course, that the natural sciences allow us to dispense with every other perspective.

1

Or of “sacred teaching” to be more precise. “God”, Aquinas wrote, is “the object of this science”. Any other matter, and indeed potentially every other matter, is “treated of under the aspect of God: either because they are God Himself or because they refer to God as their beginning and end” (1912, I.1.7).

2

52

Chapter Three

Augustine: Not Making “Howlers” Augustine of Hippo provided a different reason for theological attention to what we would today call the natural sciences, and although it is a strikingly modest reason, it remains useful. He said, to put it in modern terms, that theologians and those who represent the theological tradition must avoid howlers. They need to be careful and accurate when talking about the workings of the world, Augustine wrote, because if they are seen to be obviously ignorant or careless in their treatment of mundane, earthly things, they will not command respect in their treatment of divine things.3 This is, as I said, a modest aim—it is about not losing credibility on account of “scientific” mistakes—but it is a good place to start. It remains as valid as a motivation today as it did in the fourth and fifth centuries. One part then, and a useful part, of having a scientific specialization among theologians would be simply to help theological invocations of science be accurate. That is a decent aim, but it is limited, in that it attaches no inherent value to scientific knowledge as part of progress in elucidating theological truth. Getting the science wrong would risk only the credibility of theology, rather than its accuracy.

Avoiding Errors in Theology With that in mind, then, we might turn back to Aquinas, who made a bolder claim, about the content of theology and not simply its credibility. We find it, for instance, in a discussion as to why the second book of his Summa Contra Gentiles was worth writing, which is to say, a discussion 3

“Usually, even a non-Christian knows something about the earth, the heavens, and the other elements of this world, about the motion and orbit of the stars and even their size and relative positions, about the predictable eclipses of the sun and moon, the cycles of the years and the seasons, about the kinds of animals, shrubs, stones, and so forth, and this knowledge he holds to as being certain from reason and experience. Now, it is a disgraceful and dangerous thing for an infidel to hear a Christian, presumably giving the meaning of Holy Scripture, talking nonsense on these topics; and we should take all means to prevent such an embarrassing situation, in which people show up vast ignorance in a Christian and laugh it to scorn… If they find a Christian mistaken in a field which they themselves know well and hear him maintaining his foolish opinions about our books, how are they going to believe those books in matters concerning the resurrection of the dead, the hope of eternal life, and the kingdom of heaven, when they think their pages are full of falsehoods on facts which they themselves have learnt from experience and the light of reason?” (Augustine 1982, I.19.39).

Theology and the Natural Sciences: Necessity, History, and Context

53

about why it is worth thinking about creation: errors about creatures sometimes lead one astray from the truth of faith, so far as the errors are inconsistent with true knowledge of God…It is, therefore, evident that the opinion is false of those who asserted that it made no difference to the truth of the faith what anyone holds about creatures, so long as one thinks rightly about God. (Aquinas 1955, II.3.1)

Get creatures wrong, and you will get your theology wrong more generally, Aquinas is saying. That is not to say that all theology is natural theology––some extrapolation from creatures to creator––far from it. But, if the work of the theologian is to think about everything as it relates to God, if it is her task to think about creatures in light of God, then it matters that she think rightly about creatures themselves. Aquinas’s idea that errors about creatures lead to errors in theology is presented with little reference to the study of nature, in that passage, although we can expand it in that direction. The particular examples of “error” that he went on to provide all lie a good way outside what would look to us like examples of the usefulness of natural science.4 However, cogent scientific examples with which we could supplement his list today are easy to find: for instance that our theology of the human being must be compromised, and has been compromised in the past, if we think of women as deficient men (following the erroneous natural science of 4

Also of some concern might be the way in which Aquinas writes, in the next chapter, that “the teaching of the Christian faith deals with creatures so far as they reflect a certain likeness of God, and so far as error concerning them leads to error about God”. While that second point keeps open what has been said so far about this passage, in the rest of the paragraph Aquinas follows the lead suggested by the first point, about theology being interested in creatures in as much as they bear “a certain likeness of God”. Consequently, he writes that “[while] human philosophy considers them as they are … The Christian faith … does not consider them as such; thus, it regards fire not as fire, but as representing the sublimity of God, and as being directed to Him in any way at all” (emphasis added). The theologian engaged with science today will almost certainly not want to collapse the second reason (that errors concerning creatures lead to errors concerning God) into the first (that creatures reflect a likeness to God), in such as way that no creature is of interest to theology in any more than a “symbolic” way (theology “regards fire not as fire, but as representing the sublimity of God”). Indeed, in any case, it would be a rather more characteristically Thomist point to remark, over and beyond what Aquinas himself wrote here, that creaturely things bear the likeness or trace of God not as ciphers but in their dense particularity as the sort of creature that they are: fire as fire. To take up a phrase from Alison Milbank, they are “not… transparent but rather radiant” (2009, 25).

54

Chapter Three

Aristotle on that score).5 Similarly, in theological ethics, any attempt to advance a theological perspective on a technological or scientific development ought to proceed from a thorough understanding of the underlying proposal upon which one is proposing to bring theology to bear. The church leader or spokeswoman who sets out to say something about mitochondrial DNA transfer, for instance, will be severely limited without a solid understanding of the science that is at stake.

The Value of Secular Learning Before moving on from Aquinas, we might consider a comment on his milieu offered by Josef Pieper, and what Pieper saw as a battle in thirteenth century thought over what it was profitable for a theologian to know (2001, 118-26). On the one hand we have those who supposed that a theologian should know only what theological texts teach, venturing further than that only, and strictly, for tightly delimited theological purposes, laid out in advance on theological grounds. On the other hand, we have those who thought that a wide knowledge of secular matters was commendable, without having to know in advance where the connections with theology might lie. (By “secular” here I do not mean “opposed to theology or to religion”, but rather “of the saeculum”: concerning the world, of which the natural sciences are very much part today.) Those with a contemporary interest in the natural sciences may take particular inspiration from the way in which this breadth of interest is exemplified by Aquinas’s teacher, Albert the Great, and not least from his contention that in empirical matters “Experiment is the only safe guide in such investigations”.6 The quotation with which Pieper illustrates the justification of an expansiveness of scholarly interest comes, in fact, not from Albert but from Aquinas: that “it is commendable among those 5

E.g. Aristotle, The Generation of Animals, 775a12-21 (and 727a23-26, 728a1725). See Sophia M. Connell (2016), especially chapter 3. This view influenced Aquinas, for instance (1912 I.92.1 obj. 1), although we might note that his resistance to following the influence of Aristotle was also strong. (See, for instance, the detail of his reply to the objection just cited, and 1912 I.92.3, where he argues that woman is subject to man but that she is not “to be subject to man’s contempt as his slave” —that is a good way off what we would rightly uphold today, but it shows a certain kicking back against the classical “scientific” picture.) 6 “Experimentum solem certificat in talibus” (On Plants, VI.2.1, quoted in Kennedy 1907). We also find Albert writing that “The aim of natural science is not simply to accept the statements [or accounts] of others, but to investigate the causes that are at work in nature” (On Minerals, II.2.1, also quoted by Kennedy). For an introductory survey of Albert’s interest in nature, see Pieper (2001, 110-18).

Theology and the Natural Sciences: Necessity, History, and Context

55

professed in religious orders to devote themselves, not only to sacred learning, but to secular study”.7

Theology Learning from Science; Science Learning from Theology I have mentioned the omnivorousness of a theology that is cast as thinking about everything in relation to God. That bears on one of the more important methodological or structural points about the discipline of science and theology, not least in terms of how it is embodied in institutional terms.8 I refer to the way in which the study of science and religion has been carried out almost entirely within faculties of theology and religious studies, rather than in faculties of science. To be blunt, theologians are simply much more interested in the work of the scientists than scientists are in the work of theologians. As a first response, that observation can be accepted as accurate, and as reflecting a natural state of affairs. For all we rightly celebrate the widespread triumphs of the sciences today as being able to investigate so many areas of the natural world, theology is the more omnivorous subject. Theology is the subject, the science, the discipline, with the higher-order interests (and perhaps the highest), with the broader, more synthetic brief, namely to think about everything, in every aspect, as it bears upon God (or perhaps we should better say, as God bears upon it). From this it follows that we will almost always see theology learning from science, and not science from theology. That follows, quite simply, from the definitions of the disciplines themselves: it belongs to theology as theology to think about the concerns of science as science, whereas it 7

Contra Impugnantes III.4.10 (translation adapted from that of Procter (1902)). This is a survey of responses to those who opposed the Dominican way of life and outlook. Aquinas is, in fact, himself quoting St Jerome (A Letter to Pammachius the Monk). 8 The question as to whether “theology and natural science” (or its cognates) constitutes a distinct “discipline” or a “field” of study is an important one, but it is not one that I will address at any length here (or, for that matter, what differences exist between those “cognate” names). Evidence for an intellectual domain of study of this sort is perhaps suggested by a conviction in the mind of the general public that a certain set of significant and related questions lie there, and a range of institutional arrangements point to something with an identity of this sort, including journals, societies and academic positions. As to whether that is a useful state of affairs, I leave that to another time, although I would certainly wish to say that “theology and natural science” represents a real and useful theological subdiscipline, but one that will thrive the more it is integrated with others.

56

Chapter Three

does not fall to science as science to think about the concerns of theology as theology. Exceptions here prove the rule, since it might fall to the scientist in some capacity other than pursuing scientific knowledge to think about theology, perhaps as religious believer or someone on a spiritual quest, just as it might fall to the scientist as scientist to think about theology, but not as theology, and rather as, say, the function of the brain during practices of prayer. Considered this way, we have an endorsement and justification for one angle upon the endeavour of “theology and science” which we might simply call the “making theologians aware of science” perspective. We can endorse that without putting theology on the back foot: far from it, since it is from the position of theology as the highest, or widest-reaching, discipline that it can be, and is, open to all such knowledge in this way. One possible exception to this science-to-theology dynamic, which would see the scientist learning from the theologian (and doing so as a scientist in pursuit of science), would involve philosophy. Scientists, in my experience, think rather rarely about philosophy, but sometimes they do and, indeed, such thoughts are particularly associated with some of the most significant advances in science, the “paradigm shifts” of Thomas Kuhn (1970 [1962]). Here, the work of the theologian may benefit the scientist, even if only occasionally, since the theological traditions are particularly treasure houses of philosophical insights.9

9

We might also note, in passing, that the study of science can also prove grist to the theological mill, or—to change the metaphor—that science can turn out to be a “spanner to tighten the nuts and bolts” of theology, rather than being “a spanner in the works”. It does so, for instance, when it calls theology back to some insight of which it may partly have lost sight, or which it was never in a position fully to develop. We might think of evolution, which turned the attention of theologians to valuable, half-submerged theological perspectives, which represented a more fruitful expression of theological instincts than the theological settlement of Darwin’s own time. Paley’s account of a “watchmaker” God hardly makes the most of notions of secondary causation; evolution helped theologians to remember that God’s self-communicative act is one that communicates to creatures the power to act, and the integrity of a real agency: “things were made like God not only in being but also in acting”, as Aquinas put it (1952, 3.7). Or, to turn to a phrase in his Commentary on Aristotle’s Physics, in creation it is “as if the shipbuilder were able to give to timbers that by which they would move themselves to take the form of a ship” (1963, II, Lecture 14).

Theology and the Natural Sciences: Necessity, History, and Context

57

Historical Angle In the middle part of this essay, I come to some thoughts about our recent history. In a volume that celebrates the past and considers the future, a robust analysis of the former will be of use for the latter.10 We might identify the 1960s and 70s as the period when a field of “science and religion” emerged as a sub-discipline within theology. The achievements of those early decades saw, in particular, the establishment of the theoretical and institutional apparatus. We have the foundation of societies, including the British Science and Religious Forum in 1975, for instance, and of journals, such as Zygon, first published in 1966. In terms of methodology, pioneering work by Ian Barbour, and later by John Polkinghorne and Arthur Peacocke, succeeded in laying out typologies of relation between science and religion. That was particularly valuable, in the first instance, simply for suggesting fruitful ways in which patterns of inquiry and discussion could be imagined: for raising the possibility that one could hope for something beyond either the narrative of an intrinsic war between science and religion, or the sense that the best one could expect was a relation of polite indifference between the fields. The work of these pioneers, and of this period of innovation in the institutional and theoretical apparatus, established “science and religion” as a field of study. The period from the 1980s into the early years of this millennium strikes me as representing a new phase in the science and theology project. The focus switched to the study of particular questions, as is represented by the topics of the series of conferences called the “Divine Action Project”11 co-sponsored by the Vatican Observatory and the Center for Theology and the Natural Sciences in Berkeley, California. These conferences ran for just over a decade, from 1992 to 2003, and led to volumes on Quantum Cosmology, Chaos and Complexity, Evolutionary and Molecular Biology, Neuroscience and the Person, and Quantum Mechanics. Broadly, this period produced work in theology and science that was generally reactive and revisionist. It was reactive in the sense that the agenda was driven by a sensed need to respond to particular topics in contemporary science seen as problems: to reductionism in neuroscience, for instance, or to proposals about the very early universe, or to concerns about what scope physics allowed for God to act in the world. This work was also often revisionary, in the sense that the lineaments of the theological responses it offered departed markedly from classical Christian 10

I am grateful to Jacob Sherman for discussions of this material. For a review of this history, see Wildman 2004, 31-75. The remit went further than the “Divine Action” title might suggest. 11

58

Chapter Three

orthodoxy, as understood historically by the Catholic, Protestant, Eastern Orthodox and Anglican traditions. Such theological reference was most notably revisionary when it came to the doctrine of God, with pantheism or panentheism as a significant, even sometimes dominant paradigm. That, of course, chimed with the prevailing theological sensibilities of the time, which were notably further from the classical understanding of the Christian faith than perhaps at any previous time, and certainly further away than the centre of gravity would be today. We can see a connection between the mood being reactive and the revisionary spirit of what was proposed, since to see various topics in science as problems for theology fits with, or seemed to demand, the revisionary perspective that previous Christian theology did not have the resources to meet new challenges.12 I have mentioned the various publications associated with the Divine Action Project. Contributors to these, it might be noted, were often more firmly in a reactive ambit than a revisionary one. John Polkinghorne’s work, which was beginning to bring discussions of theology and science to a general theological audience by the end of the 1980s, is similarly less revisionary.13 More constitutively willing to depart from the earlier theological tradition was the work of Arthur Peacocke, whose publications in the field had begun with Creation and the World of Science in 1979. In what I am calling this second of three stages to date, we also see notable work in historical scholarship, especially from the 1990s onwards, with the publication, for instance, of John Hedley Brooke’s Science and Religion: Some Historical Perspectives in 1991.14 Such historical work proved particularly important for further establishing the credibility of a science and theology dialogue, as going beyond some inevitable paradigm of opposition. It did so, particularly, by a historical demonstration that the relationships between science and religion had often been very different in the past.15 Conflict is clearly not the only possible paradigm, once we see that other paradigms, and often more fruitful ones, have prevailed in other periods. 12

My concern in this essay is primarily with the relation of science to Christian theology. 13 The first edition of The Way the World Is was published in 1984, followed by One World, Science and Creation, and Science and Providence before the 1980s was out. 14 And also Ronald L. Numbers’ work on creationism as a historical phenomenon, for instance (2006 [1993]). 15 We might also think of Edward Grant’s The Foundations of Modern Science in the Middle Ages (1999), and his earlier Physical Science in the Middle Ages (1978), although on that front we already had A. C. Crombie’s two volume Medieval and Early Modern Science (1959).

Theology and the Natural Sciences: Necessity, History, and Context

59

In terms of institutional consolidation, the 1990s saw the endowment of chairs or lectureships in theology and natural science. These include, for instance, positions at Princeton Seminary,16 Cambridge,17 and Oxford.18 That brings us to a third stage in this proposed three-part scheme, which would be where we stand today.19 (I suppose, following Hegel, that today is always the third stage.) As a possible demarcation between the current period and the previous one, I can point to the short interval between the final conference in the Divine Action Project series, the “capstone” conference of 2003 (also the year that the journal Theology and Science was first published), and a conference convened in 2006 by the Vatican Observatory (this time without the co-sponsorship of the Berkeley Center) on “Creatio ex Nihilo Today”, published as Creation and the God of Abraham in 2010.20 If the earlier phase had been driven by a particular need to respond to scientific topics and concerns, and often in a revisionary fashion, the 2006 conference clearly breathed different air. The topic, creation out of nothing, comes from theology, for all it was brought into dialogue with science, and the tone was markedly confident, with theological engagement with texts and authors from what might be called an orthodox theological vision, and an emphasis on the fathers and the scholastics. A glance at the index turns up eight page references for Balthasar, two for Barth, and none for Calvin and Luther. There is only one reference to Pannenberg. Among philosophers, Plato and Aristotle head the pack, with perhaps a score of pages for Platonism, and a good deal more for Aristotle. Avicenna features prominently, but pride of place goes to Thomas Aquinas, who commands an entire two-column page in the index. Something is different here. That fits alongside a wider shift in Christian theology, which is today 16

The James I. McCord Chair, 1990. The Starbridge Lectureship, 1994. 18 The Andreas Idreos Chair, 1999. 19 This third phase has also seen something of an embarrassment of riches in the publication of companions and handbooks in the field: for instance from Oxford University Press (Oxford Handbook of Religion and Science, 2006), Cambridge University Press (Cambridge Companion to Science and Religion, 2010), Routledge (Routledge Companion to Religion and Science, 2011) and Blackwell (Blackwell Companion to Science and Christianity, 2012). I appreciate that there are counter-examples to any broadly drawn historical scheme, so that the work of Thomas Torrance, for instance, would seem to fit more closely with the third phase of my scheme than the first and second, within which it was actually produced (Space, Time and Resurrection, for instance, was published in 1976). 20 Burrell, D. B., et al. (eds.) 2010. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 17

60

Chapter Three

often, even predominantly, characterised by a theology of retrieval: a second flowering of the Ressourcement that started in France and Belgium in the mid-twentieth century—or perhaps it is only the latest moment in a perpetual cycle of returning to sources.21 The outlook today is shifting towards a renewed sense that inherited traditions of theology bear overlooked resources, and that the problems posed by dialogue with the natural sciences are not always so new. A generation of theologians brought up on Herbert McCabe, Rowan Williams and John Milbank, and through them pointed to the Fathers and Scholastics as figures with whom one is engaged in substantially the same theological project, is profoundly different from, say, the world of the Church of England in the 1970s or 80s.22 The prevalence of writers on science and religion coming from a fairly resolutely “catholic” perspective today is also notable.23 As refracted in a “theology and religion” sub-discipline, we see at least two further characteristics that distinguish this third period from the second. First, the direction of travel is, more than before, from a basis in theology, now turning to science, rather than from science as setting the agenda before turning to theology.24 Secondly, theologians working with scientific questions are frequently also deeply engaged with philosophy. Again, that reflects broader shifts. One can hardly find a doctrinal theologian today, younger than perhaps fifty years old, who is not deeply involved with topics in metaphysics.

Multi-Lateral Discussions I close this essay by considering some broader features of discussion in which a dialogue between theology and science is typically embedded today. A notable phenomenon is a shift from a bilateral dialogue between 21

The re-flowering of widespread study of the fathers in the nineteenth century might be one more example in England and Germany. 22 Consider the two least confident reports by the Church’s Doctrine Commission: Christian Believing (London: SPCK, 1976) and We Believe in God (London: Church House Publishing, 1985). 23 In the United Kingdom we might think of Sarah Coakley, Conor Cunningham, Michael Dodds, Denis Edwards, Michael Hanby, Janet Martin Soskice, Jacob Sherman, Simon Oliver, and myself. Alister McGrath would be another scholar grounded in a range of historical sources, who is, however, a more strongly, but not exclusively, Protestant-minded theologian. 24 The theological picture is also a holistic one: perhaps because the foundations are seen to be in theology, the theological resources brought to bear are wide and interwoven, not only historically speaking, but also in terms of the web of systematic themes.

Theology and the Natural Sciences: Necessity, History, and Context

61

theology and science to something far more multilateral. If earlier periods justified the possibility of a constructive conversation between theology and science, either methodologically or historically, that was still conceived largely as a conversation between those two partners. Today, the picture is rather different. Theology (and religious studies), and various scientific disciplines, are frequently drawn into far more widely interdisciplinary studies and discussions. Excavating the reasons for this shift would, no doubt, call upon us to consider the causes of a more general turn to inter-disciplinarity in the university. I shall not attempt that here. I will, however, point to one, quite specific contributor to the new popularity of a certain kind of interdisciplinary discussion, with theology and the natural sciences as significant partners. That relates to a scholarly transcendence of the sense of a dualism between matter and spirit. A glance at notices in any faculty on my campus, where departments and faculties of humanities and social science are clustered in Cambridge, will demonstrate a current fascination with materiality, and with what seems to be called, technically speaking, “things”, or “the thing”. This represents a shift in perspective over a question no less significant than the meaningfulness of matter. It is a shift, quite simply, from a reductionist, atomistic, combinatorial way of understanding materiality, where meaningfulness is automatically off the agenda, to one that recognises that matter is always social, historical, and semiotic, and therefore meaningful. Water, as an example, is either just two atoms of hydrogen joined to one of oxygen, or it is cultural, biological, ethical, legal, economic, and sacramental. There is a new attention to the latter. This shift, by which we recognize and study matter (and “things”) as meaningful, is part of a picture that spells a new openness to theology and religious studies across the university, which we would not have expected a decade ago. That shift is seen most of all with some of the newer faculties, at least in my university: with English, Mediaeval and Modern Languages, for instance, and with anthropology, sociology, and I dare say criminology, and then, among the older faculties, with law and classics, but not so much with philosophy A key to this new interest in theology is a recognition that theology and religion are not simply about “otherworldliness” and some abstract sense of “the spiritual”. Almost all of the examples of this new interdisciplinary interest in theology and religious studies recognize the deep concern and involvement of religion and theology with materiality, bodiliness and practices of life. While these shifts are much to be celebrated, we should admit that they

62

Chapter Three

raise potent questions about how we conceive a “theology and science” field. The concerns of these new interdisciplinary areas of interest are clearly ones that interest the theologian, not least a theologian with a professional interest in science––they include health, medicine, creaturehood, the body, materiality, and so on––and yet the mood and mode of engagement will be rather different from the past. A multilateral conversation is different from a bilateral one. Moreover, the scientists in the room are likely to face rather stronger ideological criticism about the business and practice of science––and I choose the word “business” advisedly––than they will have received from theologians of late, who in recent decades have often been rather timid when it has come to such “political” criticism. In conclusion, we might turn to the more localized question of relations between the parts of theology and religious studies faculties. The first question concerns the welcome recent emergence, within the theological study of science, of a distinct approach from the perspective of Biblical studies. This is one of the most important things to have happened in the past decade or so. There is now therefore a conversation to be had here between those who approach a theological dialogue with the sciences from the angle of doctrine or philosophical theology, and those who approach it from Biblical studies. In one sense, those of us whose outlook is first of all doctrinal will no doubt particularly welcome attention to sources that these traditions consider to be revealed, however careful we might want to be about what that means. All the same, there is also something to the synthetic mind-set of the doctrinal and philosophical theologian that might lead its participants to wonder how the specificity of remaining with particular Biblical texts works out in practice. The second question concerns the way in which “theology and science” relates to other theological disciplines. On the one hand, we can point to a truly widespread interest in that field, certainly among students and other scholars of theology, but also among colleagues in other faculties. And yet, on the other hand, does it not still somewhat separate, cut off from the rest? Science and religion has its own specialist journals, but are they read to any great extent by those outside our immediate discipline? Asked another way, are papers in “science and religion” often published in more central, mainstream theological journals: in, say, Modern Theology or The International Journal of Systematic Theology, to speak from the doctrinal side? Such questions may lead us to wonder whether the next stage, after the success of a “theology and science” field as a distinct sub-discipline of theology, will see closer integration with other theological sub-disciplines,

Theology and the Natural Sciences: Necessity, History, and Context

63

which might see teaching related to science dispersed into other theological courses. That is what I see in my own faculty, with a new first year paper on the doctrine of creation that will combine lectures on doctrinal history with other perspectives, of which one would be science and religion, and others might be artistic treatments of that doctrine. Whatever the future holds, the points made at the beginning of this essay remain, that it is important for theologians not to make scientific blunders, and that errors about creatures can lead to errors in theology more generally. Those principles remain, one modest and one going rather further.

References Augustine. 1982. The Literal Meaning of Genesis, trans. Taylor, J. H. New York: Newman Press. Aquinas. 1912. Summa Theologiae, Second edition, 22 volumes, trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province. London: Burns, Oates & Washbourne. —. 1952. Disputed Question on the Power of God, trans. English Dominican Fathers. Westminster, MD: The Newman Press. —. 1955. Summa Contra Gentiles, 5 volumes, trans. Pegis, A. C., Anderson, J. F., Bourke, V. J. and O’Neil, C. J. New York: Hanover House. —. 1963. Commentary on the Aristotle’s Physics, trans. Blackwell, R. J., Spath, R. J. and Thirlkel, W. E. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Connell, S. M. 2016. Aristotle on Female Animals: A Study of the Generation of Animals. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Grant, E. 1978. Physical Science in the Middle Ages. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. —. 1997. The Foundations of Modern Science in the Middle Ages: Their Religious, Institutional and Intellectual Contexts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kennedy, D. 1907. “St. Albertus Magnus”, in The Catholic Encyclopedia, Vol. 1. New York: Robert Appleton Company. Kuhn, T. 1970 [1962]. The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Milbank, A. 2009. Chesterton and Tolkien as Theologians: The Fantasy of the Real. London: T&T Clark. Numbers, R. L. 2006 [1993]. The Creationists: From Scientific Creationism to Intelligent Design. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

64

Chapter Three

Pieper, J. 2001. Scholasticism: Personalities and Problems of Medieval Philosophy. South Bend, IN: St Augustine’s Press. Procter, J. 1902. An Apology for the Religious Orders. London: Sands & Co. Wildman, W. J. 2004. “The Divine Action Project, 1988-2003”, Science and Theology, 2(1), 31-75.

CHAPTER FOUR PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE: THOUGHTS ON SCIENCE AND RELIGION FROM THE NEXT GENERATION MICHAEL BURDETT

The possibility of commenting on the past, present and future of the field of science and religion is an exciting prospect for a relatively junior scholar such as myself. Young academics, graduate students particularly, are a bit like town busybodies or Victorian maidens: we love to gossip, deconstruct, argue about and just make sense of the field we are getting trained in. Perhaps it is because we are learning the subtle dance of getting permanent jobs that requires analysing every interaction and source to know just how to strategically place ourselves in the field that motivates such obsession. Or it could be that we are like the fledgling learning to practically stretch our muscles and wings and apply the theoretical knowledge to the real world itself—learning to fly in reality, not just in abstraction. Regardless, such an opportunity affords me the space to say what I really think about the field of science and religion, where it has been, where it is at present and where, I hope, it is going. On second inspection, however, this is an incredibly daunting task. Not least because I don’t have the same experience as many other senior scholars in this book and that have spoken on this topic for some years now. The past, for many of these figureheads, were actually lived discourses, rather than words on a page as they have been for me. But, perhaps the eyes of distance—those of an outsider or someone on the receiving end of this history—might prove an important and needed perspective for the field. Therefore, I won’t let the lack of practical experience in the field deter me from commenting on the past, present or the future. Recognising that any text or commentary is always perspectival and context-dependent, I should begin by giving a brief account of my position

66

Chapter Four

in this field so as to situate my comments that follow. As I have intimated, I am a relatively young scholar. I am educated as a scientist and a theologian. I originally did work in physics and engineering in the aerospace industry in Los Angeles for a number of years while pursuing studies in theology and philosophy in tandem. When I then did my graduate work in theology at Oxford you might think it strange that I didn’t decide to do “science and religion” explicitly as such—at least not right away. I recognise the field of science and religion has its own history and set of issues as a field and, while I think it is important to study the content of this conversation, I found it critical to study both the sciences and theology separately so as to lay a solid foundation in each. I still think one can gain an important perspective from inhabiting the distinct fields of science and theology to understand the inner logic, method, concerns and language of both before trying to integrate them. Indeed, one of Ian Barbour’s central concerns, as we will come to see a bit later, is that both maintain their distinct integrity in this engagement, and being trained in each separately helps cultivate an awareness of their separate integrities. Therefore, I really do have a foot in the various streams that flow into the field of “science and religion” and I am committed to both “science” and “religion/theology” as distinct enquiries that must recognise their own voice when dialoguing with the other. Two other items are worth mentioning up front. What might make me unique in my perspective here is my training in engineering and technology. Coming from this applied side of the sciences has me trained to approach most issues in the academy, and in this field in particular, in entirely pragmatic ways. I constantly turn to practical questions like: What point does this topic have? Who will care about this? Who is our audience? How is this lived out? How do laymen experience science and religion today? What concerns them? So, my perspective favours the practical and this is why I have tended to focus my efforts on technology for: (1) it is how people experience the fruits of science in our world and (2) it is the big elephant in the room that is rarely discussed in science and religion circles. Now, the final bit of context is that I find myself on both the research/academic side of science and religion and what might be called the confessional context. I attend academic conferences that aim to advance the entire field of science and religion and do not necessarily presuppose a particular faith tradition.1 Beyond this, however, I am also 1

But given the current state of the field, it is predominantly white males commenting on the coherence of the Christian faith with modern science. I discuss this in greater detail later.

Past, Present and Future

67

deeply involved in the confessional context in the United States and to a lesser extent in Britain. I’ve done social scientific studies on the beliefs and resourcing of science and religion in Christian higher education, and I’ve been involved with several projects that help cultivate a healthy science and religion dialogue among evangelicals and other Christians. So, I am just as aware of the “apologetic strand” of science and religion in the pews as that trumpeted from the ivory tower. What is more, I recognise how both of these areas feed into the science and religion field and make up a large set of the voices within it.

Implications for Reflecting on the 40th Anniversary of the Science and Religion Forum and My Contribution to It Throat clearing aside, I should say that taking stock of the science and religion field is timely––and not only as a way to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the Science and Religion Forum. Doing so at any time is always an important task. However, if I am allowed to probe a bit further, this moment in the field seems a particularly important time to assess the past, present and future of the field. I’ve had countless conversations the past few years with many scholars and laymen in the field and the sense many of us have is that science and religion is at an inflection point. Indeed, these private conversations have spilled over into print and in public discourse. Taede Smedes (2008) touches on this precise point when he says “…although the field may have reached a state of maturity, it also seems to have reached a kind of midlife crisis”. What is more, the recent Templeton-sponsored event at the British Academy in 2012 entitled “Gifford Lectures Revisited” had previous Templeton Prize winners and Gifford Lecturers do precisely what we are doing here: reflecting upon the past and present so as to determine the trajectories for the future in the field. I think all of us feel “stock taking” is needed for the health of the field and because our present moment requires it. So, in the space remaining, I will give a brief account of the history of the field of science and religion and analyse present issues so as to diagnose future trajectories. To focus my efforts on the past I will turn to Ian Barbour’s own stock taking of the field some 40 years ago in an essay entitled “Science and Religion Today” (Barbour 1968a) before giving some personal comments where I contend that much of the field in the past 40 to 50 years has traditionally focused on the conversation between Christianity and the natural sciences. At present, however, we are beginning to see that the future of the conversation lies beyond the dialogue between the natural sciences and Christianity. I suggest that the

68

Chapter Four

future dialogue will and ought to expand in several directions: (1) into non-Christian religions and theology, (2) into the human sciences, (3) into Science and Technology Studies and (4) into the humanities more broadly.

The Ghost of Science and Religion Past It is almost uncontested that the late Ian Barbour is attributed with the founding of the academic study of science and religion. His seminal book Issues in Science and Religion (Barbour 1966) solidified this area of study and secured his position as its patron saint (Smedes 2008, 235-6). The book itself is still one of the most important introductions to the field, if a little dated in places, and every time I open its pages I am stunned by its balance, coherence and comprehension. Some two years later Barbour edited a sister volume entitled Science & Religion: New Perspectives on the Dialogue (Barbour 1968b). His chapter contribution in it entitled “Science and Religion Today” provides an instructive counterpoint to us, for in it we glimpse what concerns were at the forefront of the field at its origin. So, allow me to unpack this article by way of shining light on the “past” field of science and religion and what leaders of the field thought about science and religion at its origin.

Barbour’s Assessment of the Origin of the Field of Science and Religion Barbour begins the essay by acknowledging that much of the field at its origin was concerned with not repeating the conflicts of the past. In particular, Barbour cites three areas where conflict had arisen for science and religion but, by and large, these were no longer issues for the field. First, Barbour points to the volatility and conflict associated with scriptural literalism. Whereas scriptural hermeneutics proved to be an important topic in such seminal science and religion historical events as the condemnation of Galileo and the reception of Darwin’s theory of evolution, Barbour claimed in the late 1960s that the field of science and religion had moved beyond the impasse of scriptural literalism and scientific enquiry. As Barbour (1968a, 5) put it, “The authors in the present volume see in Genesis the images of a pre-scientific cosmology used to express abiding religious insights. Scriptural literalism is no longer a major issue between science and religion”. And yet, some 40 years later an entire museum would be built as a symbolic edifice to scriptural literalism and the continued battle between science and religion. Indeed, Barbour himself would later say “I under-estimated the appeal of

Past, Present and Future

69

creationism and the new forms it would take in public education after losing repeated challenges in the courts” (2008, 266). Second, Barbour insists that the “God of the gaps” strategy within the science and religion engagement has run its course. The examples of history caution against such a move. The Newtonian God who had to periodically intervene to re-align planetary deviations was removed a century later by Laplace’s calculations. Similarly, the God who created the eye by divine fiat invoked by certain 18th century scientists was made superfluous by Darwin’s theory of evolution. Barbour claimed that direct “intervention” into the natural world was no longer en vogue for the field of science and religion. Yes, special divine action was an important topic (and would become a central issue from the 1980s to the present), but noninterventionist approaches were favoured. Thus, Barbour happily claimed “the “God of the gaps” is rejected by most theologians as well as scientists today” (1968a, 6). Yet many argue the Intelligent Design movement today has once again resurrected this whipping boy of the science and religion dialogue. Indeed, Barbour (2001, 211) would go on to criticise Intelligent Design for invoking this science and religion heresy. Finally, Barbour cites the demise of both evolutionary naturalism and natural theology. Barbour argues that there are still proponents of naturalism but that this is not a conclusion warranted by scientific findings, but rather a philosophical/metaphysical position presupposed outside of the domain of science. In the same way, Barbour argues we need to resist the urge to utilise scientific evidence in support of theism. In other words, trying to build a robust theology using purely natural and scientific means, as natural theology had done in the 18th and 19th centuries, was doomed to failure from the beginning. Doing so would only ever invite the God of deism, not that of any particular faith tradition, and would lead to God’s removal from public life.2 As Barbour (1968a, 8) claims, “Most contemporary Protestant theologians have little interest in natural theology, and most philosophers are dubious about deriving any far-reaching metaphysical conclusions…from scientific theories”. However, yet again, we find here that Barbour’s contentions about “sorting out” the past conflicts of science and religion are not so clear cut. Metaphysical naturalism still seems to be a constant threat to the field with characters such as Jerry Coyne and Richard Dawkins still, somehow, having a voice in how science and religion is perceived by the surrounding populace. And, we have seen a renewed interest in natural theology by theologians 2

And a deistic God who is “necessary” for the world’s continuity and coherence is bound to be removed. See Jüngel (1983) for a genealogy of the removal of a necessary God from public life.

70

Chapter Four

such as Alister McGrath (2008), albeit not the brand that is decried by Barbour. In fact, it is anticipated by him. Perhaps Barbour’s assessment of the field in the late 1960s should act as a cautionary tale to us. As someone whose area of interest in theology is eschatology and futurism, I can personally attest to the short shelf life of any claims about the future. What is more, making bold claims that certain conflicts or issues would be sorted once and for all just doesn’t take seriously enough the highly contextual nature of these issues. For, when we take the claims of scholars such as David Livingstone seriously3—i.e. that doctrinal adherence or cognitive belief is just one factor in a wide array of influences on how an issue in science and religion takes hold—we ought to be more reticent to claim that pure argument alone can sort out anything for good in this field. Past conflicts were not the greatest threat to the field of science and religion, Barbour thought. Rather, in the 1960s he found a much larger threat to the dialogue in the form of various arguments for their independence—i.e. the Gouldian non-overlapping magisteria (Gould 1999). Several movements promulgated the separation of science and religion, the two most significant Barbour identifies were neo-orthodoxy and existentialism. Neo-orthodoxy challenged the theological contention that anything of real value could be gained from studying “the book of nature”. Instead, all knowledge of God had to be grounded in the special self-revelation of God in Christ and adhered to by faith. As Barbour put it, “Religious faith depends entirely on the divine initiative, not on discovery of the kind by which science advances” (Barbour 1968a, 9). For the neoorthodox position, science might fill out the empirical details of particular natural events, but the theological import of things like a doctrine of creation is not in the “how” of the natural order, but rather is to tell us something of God’s nature (that God is sovereign, transcendent and purposeful) and that the world is ordered and largely good (Barbour 1968a, 10-11). Therefore, scientific and theological statements operate on different levels and have differing aims. As Barbour tells us, it is hard to see, then, why science and religion ought to discuss anything if they have no area of common overlap. Besides a blow to science and religion from within the confines of theology, Barbour also identifies a detractor from within philosophy. Existentialists and those in the I-Thou tradition assert that personal selfhood and interpersonal relationships can only be known in terms of 3

See Livingstone (2014) for a wonderful assessment of the role “place, politics and rhetoric” played in the reception of Darwinian evolution in unique geographical, cultural and religious settings.

Past, Present and Future

71

“subjective involvement”. There is a special kind of knowledge gained only when one is personally committed and invested in the area of inquiry. Many religious thinkers claim religious knowledge is of this existentialist, self-involved variety. Scientific knowledge, on the other hand, eradicates such knowledge and promotes detachment from its line of inquiry. One cannot be a good scientist by giving subjective accounts of experimental data—it must be reproducible without personal bias. Therefore, any dialogue between science and religion will be foolhardy because they are isolated by method, commitment and aim. Of course, in this essay Barbour does more than cite past conflicts. He also points out the areas of productive dialogue that he foresaw would define the field for the future. In particular, Barbour puts forward two areas of productive dialogue and several more future “prospects for dialogue” he thought required addressing. First, several scholars at that time were actually drawing several parallels between the methods of science and religion despite the existentialist and positivist claims to the contrary. The work of philosophers Russell Hanson (1958) and Thomas Kuhn (1970) challenged the positivistic view of science and Michael Polanyi (1962) indicated that personal judgements were endemic to the practice of any science. Hence, separating science and religion by differing methods of concern (i.e. “subjective involvement” vs. “objective distance”) just didn’t fit the evidence on either side.4 Instead, identifying commonalities in method and in operation of the respective fields was a highly fecund venture that Barbour encouraged greatly. Second, Barbour points to the productive interaction between evolution and theology. The work of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (1975) was flying off the shelves in the 1960s across the English-speaking world. His creative and bold synthesis of evolution and the Christian faith was ground-breaking at the time and, despite constantly finding his texts in used bookshops today, he is enjoying something of a minor resurgence. Indeed, Barbour himself seemed to be swept away by the productivity of Teilhard’s synthesis for both its broad evolutionary scope and its scientifically-informed theology. Barbour held that projects such as Teilhard’s were the shape of things to come. Barbour became even more speculative when commenting on the many issues raised by others in the book aforementioned. Inasmuch as the other contributions fill out and help to delineate the field at its origin, Barbour raises five illuminating questions in dialogue with these other scholars. (1) What is the place of nature in theology? (2) Should we seek a unified world-view? (3) Is metaphysics a bridge between science and religion? (4) 4

Barbour also cites the work of Charles Coulson (1955).

72

Chapter Four

Is the idea of God’s creativity in nature a reversion to the “God of gaps”? (5) Does evolution have implications for our understanding of God? I won’t have time here to unpack all of these questions, nor how Barbour approaches them as important trajectories for future research, but what fascinates me in all these questions is how many of them still drive the field today. We are still trying to work out the proper bounds and place of natural theology and indeed the place of nature within a robust theological framework. We are still grappling with the implications of evolutionary theory for theology and religion. We are still wrestling with the nature of divine action as it relates to natural mechanisms. We are still trying to discern the boundaries of science and religion as they relate to each other and we continually rely upon philosophy and hope that it can act as an important handmaiden to addressing many of these questions. Of course, I’m not saying that nothing of substance has occurred in the field the last 40 years. Clearly, much has been done in the intervening time to advance our deeper appreciation of these questions and perhaps we understand a bit more about how to begin answering some of them. But these questions remain and it is startling how similar the research programmes are today to those of decades past.

My Thoughts on the Past Transitioning now from Barbour’s perspective on the field at its origin, I’d like to make some comments about what I think has typified it the last 40 to 50 years. First, it is clear to me that the natural sciences have dominated the science and religion conversation. Within the physical sciences the following issues exemplify the domination of the natural sciences in science and religion: (1) Divine action and quantum indeterminacy, (2) the theological implications of Big Bang cosmology and the physical origins of the universe, and (3) the far future of the cosmos and its import into eschatology. Or we might turn to issues within the life sciences. Things like: (1) apparent directionality or convergence in special trajectories and what this might say about a divine Creator, (2) what paleogenetics might tell us about our mythic primogenitors, and (3) how socio-biology through things like kin selection and reciprocal altruism shifts our conceptions of evolution and has significant import for theism. I am in good company when I make the claim that natural science has dominated our conversations in science and religion. In the aforementioned event at the British Academy where previous Templeton Prize winners and Gifford Lecturers were asked to comment on the field in 2012, the

Past, Present and Future

73

majority made the exact same claim. What is more, as we have seen in Barbour’s synopsis of the field, all scientific issues he touched upon were firmly lodged within the natural sciences. I’m sure there are a plethora of explanations for this bias, but it is beyond the scope of this paper to engage them. Before turning to the final section of this paper on the present concerns and trajectories latent in the field, it is important to note, quickly, three other features that I believe have characterised the field since its inception. Moving from the biases on the scientific side of this dialogue, we can distinguish something similar on the theology/religion side. Namely, almost all engagement with the sciences in the field has been with Christianity and Christian theology. Of course, the book Science and Religion Around the World (Brooke and Numbers 2011) has invited greater contribution from the non-Christian faith traditions. But, where this has occurred, it is either scant5 or it hasn’t made its way to the forefront of the field. Finally, I’d like to add that both history and philosophy have been significant areas of discourse in the field of science and religion. Indeed both have acted as important ballast amidst the forays into the tumultuous and normative waters of engagement between science and religion. Some of the most impressive and timely work relies upon the consistent work done by historians of science and religion and by philosophers. So, to summarise, I’d say the past has been typified by, largely, engagement between the natural sciences and Christianity with significant and steady input from historians and philosophers.

The Ghost of Science and Religion Present and Future: Broadening the Boundaries In the remaining time I want to both assess current trends in the field that signal a new tack and trajectory and, where no such trend is observable, also comment on where I think the field ought to go. I’ve structured my thoughts around four distinct foci in this regard: (1) expansion into non-Christian religions and theology; (2) more substantial discourse in the human sciences; (3) greater dialogue with the burgeoning field of Science and Technology Studies; and (4) broadening into the humanities more generally. Let’s dive into the first one.

5

Notable texts that are the exception and represent science and religion in the nonChristian faiths include: Dallal (2010), Efron (2007) and Wallace (2003).

74

Chapter Four

Expansion into Non-Christian Religions and Theology In many ways the recognition that the bulk of the conversation has depended upon a singular religion, Christianity, invites such a call to the rest of the faith traditions. But, beyond just the argument for “playing fair”, it is clear that this invitation is critical because non-Christian religions are on the rise. Recent numbers from the Pew Foundation suggest that Islam is one of the fastest growing religions in the world. From 1970 to 2010 Islam had a growth rate of 2.33, compared with Christianity at 1.47, and made up nearly a quarter of all religious adherents in the world, compared with Christianity at nearly a third. The expansion of globalisation and mobilisation over the last 50 to 60 years has meant an increasing exposure to the plurality of differing faiths. Indeed, whereas some 50 to 60 years ago the standard secularization thesis reigned supreme and we were taught that the rest of the world would soon look like Western Europe, it is clear that current global politics and society cannot be explained without reference to the proliferation of religion.6 Of course, part of this growing plurality is into minority religions and non-traditional religions or religious faith. This can mean growth of minority religions like Baha’ism or, as we see in the United States and elsewhere, the rise of the “Nones” where people increasingly have no faith or decline official affiliation. The rapidly changing currents on the religious side of the science and religion field command engagement with these growing religious trends and the faithful who adhere to them explicitly or implicitly. I should add a few things related to my claims here. First, this doesn’t mean utilising only the tools of religious studies to do so. Yes, studying the phenomenon of religion is an important venture here, but real substantive work needs to be done by practitioners, adherents and theologians. Drawing on the work done by comparative theology will be critical to engaging these other faith traditions well. Second, I signal a similar call to the under-represented theological subdisciplines in the field. So often scientists who happen to be amidst the faithful lead the dialogue. Frankly, we need more theologians qua theologians in this field.7 Traditionally, this has meant employing philosophers of religion as philosophical theologians or, to a lesser extent, 6 Excellent texts that study the plurality of secularization around the world include: Berger, Davie, and Fokas (2008); Calhoun, Juergensmeyer, and VanAntwerpen (2011); and Taylor (2007). 7 Smedes (2008, 244ff.) makes the same point where he reflects on the lack of real impact the field of science and religion has made on the core of theology.

Past, Present and Future

75

constructive theologians. However, historical theology, ethics and political theology, practical and applied theology all can contribute in their own way to the field. For example, new work on the evolution of morality ought to spur us to include theological ethicists. Current research on the science of ritual ought to incite us to call upon practical, historical and liturgical theologians. Even if this work is already being done it is not often included within the boundaries of the science and religion field. Hence, it is a key component of this “broadening the boundaries” initiative I am putting forward here. Finally, increased globalisation and mobilisation hasn’t just meant exposure to other faiths within our own borders but also the expansion of our faith traditions into other parts of the world. Current research from the Pew Foundation reveals the centre of gravity of Christianity is creeping southward. Much could be said about what impact this might have beyond the borders of science and religion but one of the most significant challenges ahead for the field will be the clash between a lauded naturalistic paradigm from the North that is so central to the practice of science and the more animistic, spiritualist and holistic paradigm of the South. Work done by Smith and Yong (2010) on science and religion from a Pentecostal and Renewalist vantage point are central to starting this dialogue.8 However, this is just the beginning of the dialogue. More resources need to be poured into it.

More Substantial Discourse in the Human Sciences I’ve referred several times now to the event at the British Academy in London entitled “Gifford Lectures Revisited”. All the speakers present were asked to comment not only on their own contribution to the past field of science and religion through their Gifford lectures, but also on how their views of the field have changed and what they might include in their lectures were they to give them today. As an attendee, I was given the distinct impression that, as I’ve intimated, the past focused on our surrounding natural environment. However, they also overwhelmingly stated that the future of the field lies within the study of ourselves—in the study of the human being.

8

Whilst Smith and Yong acknowledge exactly the need to address science and religion from a Pentecostal and Renewalist position because of its spread southward, all contributions in this text are still based in the Renewalism of the Global North. Surely this needs to be done first, but it does invite more contextual sources in subsequent engagements.

76

Chapter Four

Today we are seeing a surge of interest in the human sciences. Whereas human science leaders in the field have been around since the beginning— Malcolm Jeeves, Nancey Murphy or Fraser Watts—it is only in the last 10 to 15 years where the human sciences have begun to take a major position in the field. Two areas are worth unpacking in more detail: (1) psychology and neuroscience; and (2) sociology and anthropology. One area of the scientific study of religion has had significant impact in recent years: the cognitive science of religion. Led by people such as Stewart Guthrie (1995), Thomas Lawson, Richard Sosis, Justin Barrett (2004), Robert McCauley (2011), Pascal Boyer (2001) and Scott Atran (2002), the study of the development of religion and religious thinking as “maturationally natural”9 within normal human beings has helped to solidify the fecundity of the human sciences in the field of science and religion. Indeed, we are at the leading edge of identifying the philosophical and theological implications of the findings of the cognitive science of religion, and texts by Visala (2011) and De Cruz and De Smedt (2015) are leading this important conversation. The second area concerns sociology and anthropology. There has been a proliferation of sociological studies on religious adherents’ views of science and scientists’ views of faith. Elaine Ecklund (2010) gives an important assessment of top scientists’ beliefs about religion, debunking some of the myths in the process, like the one that all atheistic scientists are hostile to religion and that spirituality does not matter to scientists. Studies such as Ecklund’s are a breath of fresh air in a public space dominated by accusation and misunderstanding. We find something similar in the work of Christian Smith and Jonathan Hill, only now it is the faithful’s perception of science that is scrutinised. The work of Jonathan Hill (2015), for example, ascertains what factors influence scientific rejection in North American Christian populations. Hill concludes it has everything to do with one’s social networks and the inherent ideologies found therein—not home schooling, not level of education and not geography. What recent sociological studies tell us is that often non-cognitive or extra-cognitive factors can play a tremendous role at the intersection of science and religion. We are seeing an extra-cognitive turn in science and 9

This neologism of Robert McCauley (2011, 31-82) refers to those abilities that arise in normal functioning humans as part of the expected developmental process. These “universal” capacities require no explicit instruction and humans engage in them without effort and require no material input. An example of a maturationally natural capacity is language acquisition and use.

Past, Present and Future

77

religion where scholars are attending more and more to practice and other embodied factors that help to shape people besides just rational belief. Practices infuse and shape a group and give them ways of embodying and inhabiting the claims that draw them together. These kinds of scholars recognise that religion, ideologies and beliefs are tied to embodiment and practice. Indeed, there has been some significant work done by Donovan Schaefer (2015) that appeals to affect theory and the emotions as a better way to understand religion in the context of science. And, Harvey Whitehouse and Cristine Legare are researching the scientific study of ritual, work which has vital import for understanding not only religion as a practice but even science as it is practiced.10

Greater Dialogue with Science and Technology Studies Paying attention to practice in the sciences naturally leads to the third area of future engagement—with Science and Technology Studies. Science and Technology Studies (sometimes referred to as Science, Technology and Society) has been a growing field the last 50 to 60 years. It is an offshoot of science studies and it assesses how political, social and cultural forces affect science and technology and how science and technology, likewise, influence politics, society and culture. In other words, it studies how science and technology are endemically human disciplines and practices. Perhaps the greatest contribution this new area of dialogue would make to the field of science and religion is its scrutiny of the big elephant in the room, technology, and the difference it makes to science and society. It is incredibly surprising to me that technology has been overlooked in the field for so long. Particularly because Barbour’s seminal Gifford lectures include the forgotten second volume Ethics in an Age of Technology (1992). Perhaps explanation should be sought in the title of the field itself: we are talking about “science” and religion, not “technology” and religion. Or perhaps explanation for its absence might be sought in a major tenet of the philosophy of technology: that the point of technology is that it remains tacit and seamless with our actions. By its very essence technology is meant to remain hidden and, thus, it has remained unstudied. However, it has been absent from the conversation for far too long. We wouldn’t have modern science today without technology and vice versa. It surely inflects and colours our experience of the natural world when doing science and, clearly, it does so outside of the laboratory. Furthermore as I explained at the beginning, it is the most immediate way people outside 10

For more on the scientific study of ritual see McCauley and Lawson (2002).

78

Chapter Four

the sciences experience the fruits of science. Science and Technology Studies recognises the power of technology in the scientific world and even gives it a new name to better describe the incorporated synthesis of both in our contemporary world—technoscience.11 There is an entire conversation happening in this field that is so close and relevant to what we do in science and religion—history of science and technology, philosophy of science and technology, hermeneutic and critical approaches to both—that it amazes me there hasn’t been more interaction to date. We would have a lot to gain from this interaction. Indeed, one area of perceived growth in the future for science and religion related to technology is in the future of human transformation. With the mapping of the human genome and new ground-breaking biotechnologies such as CRISPR/Cas9 the future of genetic engineering has really arrived. We can do it cheaply, universally and effectively now when not more than a few years ago we could not. Proximate ethical and safety issues always arise with these new technologies and powers, but what is often overlooked are the anthropological and special implications of intentional genomic change. Right now the United States and Europe have banned the intentional modification of the germline (i.e. the heritable genetic material), but just a few months ago CRISPR was used in China to alter the germline (Cyranoski and Reardon 2015). This could initiate vast changes to the human species that invites substantial theological reflection beyond just immediate ethical concerns.

Expanding into the Humanities Finally, I want to turn to the last area that science and religion should turn to as part of broadening its borders: the humanities. C. P. Snow famously summarised in 1959 the growing rift between the sciences and the humanities in what he referred to as “The Two Cultures”. Snow contended that the major hurdle to solving global problems in the 20th century stems from this undesirable bifurcation. Indeed, it is difficult to find anyone in higher education who is not privy to the proliferation of specialisation in the academy and the constant splintering of relative academic disciplines. I’m sure we wouldn’t suffer so much if this splintering were not beset with diverging disciplinary cultures and the 11

The term “technoscience” commonly refers to both the constitutive practice of science and also the social and technological context of science. Technoscience designates that scientific knowledge is mediated by historical, social and material networks. For more on technoscience see Ihde and Selinger (2003) and Nordmann (2011).

Past, Present and Future

79

ensuing failure of dialogue or synthesising to take place. Indeed, the very idea of a uni-versity with a common pursuit of knowledge almost seems laughable now—then again, “multi-versity” sounds rather strange, if more correct. But here the field of science and religion is in a privileged position. Science and religion can act as a vanguard for bridging these two cultures and, indeed, it has a responsibility to do so. Because the field has had such consistent dialogue and practical experience “crossing the aisle” these last 50 years, we ought to invite other disciplines into our conversation; not only because the state of education needs it, but because science and religion has much to gain from it as well. What is to be gained? Several things. Deepening discussions with those in literature has vast import for science and religion. A neglected topic within science and religion is the imagination and its role in the construction of controlling images, metaphors and analogies that are the bedrock of the scientific and the religious task. Janet Soskice’s book, Metaphor and Religious Language (1985), is a good start, but it has been calling out for companion pieces the last 20 to 30 years. This means we pay little attention to the role of science fiction—the cradle of the scientific imagination—in influencing people’s beliefs on science and religion topics. Instead, it is dismissed as half-baked science or idle speculation not worthy of academic attention. Gaining a stronger appreciation for the imagination in science and religion also means taking the literary and existential/religious category of myth seriously. Demythologisation might have had its place in the early 20th century but it seems to have done more damage than good today, and I find this difficult to say as someone with strong existentialist tendencies. We cannot deny the role particular narratives of the existential/mythic variety play in our lives, or their influence on how we perceive and pursue both science and religion together and respectively. It really is time to expand our remit and invite the rest of the humanities to the table.

Conclusion The field of science and religion is at a crossroads. As I have indicated, much of the past dialogue has focused on the natural sciences and Christianity with important input from history and philosophy. However, we are seeing today a major transition within the field and, I have argued, this requires a broadening of the boundaries. For the health of the field, what is required is no less than (1) expansion into non-Christian religions and theology; (2) more substantial discourse in the human sciences; (3)

80

Chapter Four

greater dialogue with the burgeoning field of Science and Technology Studies; and (4) broadening into the humanities more generally. As we meet the present opportunities and challenges we currently face, it is imperative we respond to them well. And perhaps in another forty years our own academic progeny will be assessing how well we both diagnosed the field and acted for the betterment of it.

References Atran, S. 2002. In Gods We Trust: The Evolutionary Landscape of Religion. New York: Oxford University Press. Barbour, I. G. 1966. Issues in Science and Religion. London: SCM Press. —. 1968a. “Science and Religion Today”, in Barbour, I. G. (ed.), Science and Religion: New Perspectives on the Dialogue. London: SCM Press. —. 1968b. Science and Religion: New Perspectives on the Dialogue. London: SCM Press. —. 1992. Ethics in an Age of Technology. London: SCM Press. —. 2001. “Science and Scientism in Huston Smith’s “Why Religion Matters””, Zygon, 36(2), 207-214. —. 2008. “Taking Science Seriously without Scientism: A Response to Taede Smedes”, Zygon, 43(1), 259-269. Barrett, J. L. 2004. Why Would Anyone Believe in God? Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press. Berger, P. L., Davie, G. and Fokas, E. 2008. Religious America, Secular Europe? A Theme and Variations. Aldershot: Ashgate. Boyer, P. 2001. Religion Explained: The Evolutionary Origins of Religious Thought. New York: Basic Books. Brooke, J. H. and Numbers, R. L. 2011. Science and Religion around the World. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Calhoun, C. J., Juergensmeyer, M. and VanAntwerpen, J. (eds.) 2011. Rethinking Secularism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Coulson, C. A. 1955. Science and Christian Belief. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. Cyranoski, D. and Reardon, S. 2015. “Chinese Scientists Genetically Modify Human Embryos”, Nature News, April 22. Dallal, A. 2010. Islam, Science, and the Challenge of History. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. De Cruz, H. and De Smedt, J. 2015. A Natural History of Natural Theology: The Cognitive Science of Theology and Philosophy of Religion. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.

Past, Present and Future

81

Ecklund, E. H. 2010. Science Vs. Religion: What Scientists Really Think. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Efron, N. 2007. Judaism and Science: A Historical Introduction. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Gould, S. J. 1999. Rocks of Ages: Science and Religion in the Fullness of Life. New York: Ballantine. Guthrie, S. 1995. Faces in the Clouds: A New Theory of Religion. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hanson, N. R. 1958. Patterns of Discovery: An Inquiry into the Conceptual Foundations of Science. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hill, J. P. 2015. Emerging Adulthood and Faith. Grand Rapids, MI: The Calvin College Press. Ihde, D. and Selinger, E. (eds.) 2003. Chasing Technoscience: Matrix for Materiality. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Jüngel, E. 1983. God as the Mystery of the World: On the Foundation of the Theology of the Crucified One in the Dispute between Theism and Atheism, trans. Guder, D. L. Edinburgh: T & T Clark. Kuhn, T. S. 1970. The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, Second edition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Livingstone, D. N. 2014. Dealing with Darwin: Place, Politics, and Rhetoric in Religious Engagements with Evolution. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. McCauley, R. N. 2011. Why Religion Is Natural and Science Is Not. New York: Oxford University Press. McCauley, R. N. and Lawson, E. T. (eds.) 2002. Bringing Ritual to Mind: Psychological Foundations of Cultural Forms. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. McGrath, A. E. 2008. The Open Secret: A New Vision for Natural Theology. Oxford: Blackwell. Nordmann, A. 2011. “Science in the Context of Technology”, in Carrier, M. and Nordmann, A. (eds.), Science in the Context of Application. London: Springer,467-482. Polanyi, M. 1962. Personal Knowledge: Towards a Post-Critical Philosophy. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Schaefer, D. O. 2015. Religious Affects: Animality, Evolution, and Power. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Smedes, T. A. 2008. “Beyond Barbour or Back to Basics? The Future of Science-and-Religion and the Quest for Unity”, Zygon, 43(1), 235-258.

82

Chapter Four

Smith, J. K. A. and Yong, A. (eds.) 2010. Science and the Spirit: A Pentecostal Engagement with the Sciences. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Snow, C. P. 1993. The Two Cultures. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Soskice, J. M. 1985. Metaphor and Religious Language. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Taylor, C. 2007. A Secular Age. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Teilhard de Chardin, P. 1975. The Phenomenon of Man, trans. Wall, B. New York: Perennial Library. Visala, A. 2011. Naturalism, Theism and the Cognitive Study of Religion: Religion Explained? Farnham: Ashgate. Wallace, B. A. (ed.) 2003. Buddhism and Science: Breaking New Ground. New York: Columbia University Press.

CHAPTER FIVE A FUTURE FOR SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY IN PASTORAL HERMENEUTICS: EQUIPPING THE SHEPHERDS GILLIAN K. STRAINE

Introduction Since its inception the field of science and religion has had duel foci: to consider how the two magisteria interrelate and to respond theologically to the world that science is discovering. The emphasis has always been on the rational and intellectual; it is a field founded on good arguments, defined positions and structured schemes. In this chapter, these debates and their fruits are taken into a new field of thought: Pastoral Theology. This includes new research exploring whether science and religion might help pastors in their work and, more broadly, whether a more existential route through science and religion interactions might help in human healing and self-understanding. Pastors are busy people. When they are not repairing leaking roofs, or sorting out flower arranging rotas, they are dealing with questions which are central to human existence: why are we here, how should we relate to the world and in what way might we discover how God intersects with the human condition? They are often answering these types of questions while offering solace to people in times of uncertainty and suffering. Pastors are of the world, but have one foot in the other world of the transcendent. Further, they are on the front line for interpreting what religion means to the vast majority of people who come into contact with it. Arguably, pastors are among the people most in need of the very best of what science, and the science and religion debates, are all about. In this chapter, an attempt is made to reflect on the extent to which science might aid “pastoring” by examining the science and the suffering caused by cancer. Cancer was chosen because it is a common disease: 1 in

84

Chapter Five

2 will be diagnosed with it in their lifetime (Cancer Research UK 2015). But despite this, it is a disease which comes with a weighty taboo, which complicates suffering. The shape of this chapter is as follows: after examining the work of a pastor, the science of cancer is theologically reflected upon using an interdisciplinary methodology based on the work of French philosopher Paul Ricoeur. Cancer is understood not merely as a physical illness but as a disease which causes a multiplicity of suffering in part due to its ongoing mythological power. Original qualitative research on the experience of cancer is used to frame the theoretical work. The outcomes of this process include ideas and guidance for those working with the ill, and their friends and family. In this approach, science and religion are put into conversation in the field of pastoral theology in such a way that the science itself is used to provide practical insights which have the potential to ease suffering. This is a novel area of engagement in the broad field of science and religion, and one which the author hopes will be fruitful, and expansive in the future of science and religion as an academic discipline.

The work of a pastor Why should pastors be interested in the world of religion and science, and vice versa? And what is pastoral theology? The work of a pastor begins in the practical: to bring God’s love to God’s people, particularly those who suffer. It is one of the roles of the ordained; indeed in the Anglican Diaconal ordination service the Bishop says the following words: They are to proclaim the gospel in word and deed, as agents of God's purposes of love. They are to serve the community in which they are set, bringing to the Church the needs and hopes of all the people. They are to work with their fellow members in searching out the poor and weak, the sick and lonely and those who are oppressed and powerless, reaching into the forgotten corners of the world, that the love of God may be made visible. (The Ordinal 2000)

Of course, the job of making the love of God visible is not restricted to those in the ordained ministry; pastoral work is the calling of every Christian. It is an enormous task, one which involves sacrifice, prayer and faith. Jesus’ life as one of service and care for the marginalised is the exemplar for this work and, although it is often sentimentalised, the image of Jesus

A Future for Science and Theology in Pastoral Hermeneutics

85

as a shepherd is of use in considering the role of a pastor.1 This metaphorical image has layers of meaning, including the idea of feeding and guiding (teaching), searching for the lost sheep (evangelism) and caring for the flock (healing, reconciling and sustaining). The shepherd is an image reflecting the earthly tasks incumbent upon a pastor, but it is also a deeply prophetic role. For, recognising the transcendence of God, the pastor must also be able to speak of that which is not of this world (Tillich 1959), never being tied to earthly troubles and pleasures, but, as St. Paul says, forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, “I press on towards the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 3:13-14). Suffering is a universal theme of humanity and a central theological question: Why do people suffer? There are many different answers and none are easy. But this is the hallowed ground onto which a pastor must enter, attempt to ease the pain, and point to God in relation to the situation. In the place created by suffering, pain and uncertainty, a pastor interprets the stories of human beings into the greater stories of the faith; a pastor witnesses to the suffering and comes alongside with compassion; in the face of suffering a pastor does not give up faith in God even when it appears that we are abandoned; a pastor waits for new light and hope to emerge; a pastor reads and interprets experience and explanations in the light of God; pastors are theologians.2 Therefore pastoral work, which begins in the practical action of making visible the love of God, is inextricably tied into the theology which underpins it and thus it takes its place in the academy, is studied and researched, and is subject to methodology and analysis under the title of Pastoral Theology. In the 20th century, the importance of the human in theology was recognised, especially through theological movements such as existentialism, liberation theology and feminist theology. At the same time, popularity increased in “Christologies from below”, which took as their starting point not the divinity, but the human aspects of Jesus’ life, for example in the work of Jürgen Moltmann and Wolfhart Pannenberg. Process theologies, panentheism and debates on the impassibility of God also endorse a rather more earthly starting point for the development of theology.

1

Biblical sources for the image of Jesus as Shepherd include Isaiah 40:11, John 10:1-18 and Hebrews. 2 There are many books on pastoral ministry, for example: Graham (2009); Swinton and Mowat (2006); and Whipp (2013).

86

Chapter Five

Pastoral (sometimes called practical) theology3 is one of these movements which takes lived experience and the human condition seriously in an inductive theological task. There are many manifold definitions of pastoral theology (Pattison and Lynch 2005) and it remains a disputed field, but the following sums up well how the author defines pastoral theology with regard to the work being discussed: a place where religious belief, tradition and practice meets contemporary experience, questions and actions and conducts a dialogue that is mutually enriching, intellectually critical, and practically transforming” (Pattison and Woodward 1994, 9).

On one level pastoral theology is not new of course. Theologians since the beginnings of the Christian church having always been doing it; for example, consider the revision of eschatological theology made in response to the early Christian martyrs. Today, pastoral theology stands out as its own branch of theology, distinct though not disconnected from other branches of theology. It is a field which deals in experience and this has led to a variety of methodologies with varying criteria against which to measure success (for example, Browning 1991; Graham 1996; Lartey 1997). Most pastoral theology methods begin with the experience of an individual or faith community. The experience usually raises a question which is explored in conversation with a religious tradition to find a new way of looking at the world and/or offering new theological insights. The experience itself which begins these cycles of thought is usually one which raises questions, causes problems or provokes pastoral difficulties. But it is a difficult task. For example, just consider what the word “experience” involves: we all interpret an experience differently based on our past, prejudices, faith systems and world views. We then use language to describe the experience, using words which have to be interpreted by whoever is listening; this is a process which is never straightforward nor even accurately predictable. How often do we hear of two people both 3

There are ongoing discussions about whether it should be called practical or pastoral theology, see for example Woodward and Pattison (2000). Originally, “pastoral theology” was the theological basis of the work of a pastor. But the term “practical theology”, which emerged from the German Protestant tradition in the late 18th century, extended this to also include activities such as worship and preaching. In the Anglican tradition, “pastoral theology” is used to talk about theology related to practical action. Both definitions today are concerned with using theology to inform action, relating it to Christian theology, with a focus on the church and contemporary issues and areas of concern to the church.

A Future for Science and Theology in Pastoral Hermeneutics

87

being at the same event, but experiencing the “experience” in vastly different ways? In the same way, the “results” or “products” of pastoral theology might be similarly contingent. An outcome might be the ratification of a particular theodical theory, or a different sense of God’s purpose in our lives, or a firm understanding for those involved of God’s immanence in the material world. It is often quite dependant on the situation, with the theological outcomes particular and local. Stephen Pattison (2000), one of the leading pastoral theologians in the United Kingdom, describes this type of theology as “contemporary enquiry” and as “dynamic, searching and open ended”. In fact, it often leads to more questions and the results may have limited value and relevance, perhaps only to the person or situation being considered. Indeed, pastoral theology is not without its critics, largely around the subjectivity of the methods and the limits of its scope. But as a place of conversation, and with good self-critical awareness, it has the potential to be enormously useful in the pastoral situation, seeking answers to problems. It is a type of theology which might be particularly suitable for our current context, seeking answers to guide living in a postmodern world faced with the challenge of handling profound uncertainty (Graham 2006). The examination of science by pastoral theology, the work of this paper, is rare. But, I argue, vital. Pastors have a duty to keep up to date with the world around them, for if their worldview is irreconcilable with science then their credibility is thrown into doubt. Further, their twin roles of prophet and pastor would be undermined without it. How can a prophet proclaim what is transcendent from the world if that pastor doesn’t engage with the best knowledge we have of the world? How can the pastor describe the things of the world in the light of faith, if that pastor remains in the dark about the physical world? Further, some argue that theologically it is in the knowing about the world that we glimpse the mind of Christ. Building on the work of Michael Polanyi (1962) and the “personal nature” of scientific knowledge, the American theologian James Loder writes that the ultimate meaning of scientific knowledge relates to the self-involvement of the knower: … no view of science is adequate that fails to recognise that all knowledge of the universe is incomplete and probably misleading until it includes the person, the knower himself or herself. Indeed, it is precisely through persons that the universe becomes conscious of itself …. Thus, the dialogue between theology and science, which is so central to practical theology, must take place at the level of personal knowledge if its outcomes are to be truly comprehensive. (Loder 2000, 26)

88

Chapter Five

Against the superiority of scientific rationality and subjective knowing in postmodern science and theology, Loder contends that it is the personal involvement with scientific knowledge which leads to theological understanding. His idea is ratification for the idea that we are instrumental in knowledge, theological and scientific, and in this chapter a particular outworking of this idea is presented: a pastoral theological process in which personal involvement with the science of cancer leads to theological knowledge. We begin this pastoral theological mission by setting the question and ask what is it about cancer that raises a theological question for pastors?

Defining the question One in two people will develop cancer at some point in their lives (Cancer Research UK 2015). Yet despite it being so common, and survival rates increasing, it is a disease that provokes a degree of fear and loneliness which goes far beyond the physical manifestations in those affected. Indeed, cancer produces a plethora of suffering. Cancer is subject to an unusual level of taboo. People are often uncomfortable even saying the “c-word” and doctors have reported that they would rather give a diagnosis of heart disease, which is statistically more deadly than cancer, such is the weight of the word. Cancer impacts on personal identity, not only physically, but also spiritually and psychologically. A growth can affect how you think about yourself and the control that we have over our own bodies. It can set people against their own bodies. It causes the boundaries of personal identity to be weakened. Physically, the treatment can be tough, destroying autonomy and changing one’s physical appearance. People often avoid the ill, not knowing what to say. Indeed, it can feel to the ill that his or her entire identity is lost to the disease. But the threat to identity is not just about physical and social changes, and their psychological impacts. Cancer is a word, a diagnosis that comes with heavy moral undertones rather than a disease that is about uncontrolled cell division. Many ask, either aloud or to themselves, “What did I do to deserve it?” Cancer is a loaded word, and one which is “encumbered with metaphor” (Sontag 1988). The cancer mythology is heavily dualistic and the common rhetorical response is to use the “war” metaphor. How often do we say or hear that someone has lost their battle to cancer or is fighting hard? This suggests that by sheer force of will alone the cellular multiplication can be conquered. The corollary, of course, can be that if the cancer is not

A Future for Science and Theology in Pastoral Hermeneutics

89

radiated out, poisoned out or cut out, it is because the person with it did not fight hard enough. This myth is explored here. The methodology used in this work is described in the next section. But in terms of pastoral theology, it is important to note here that good self-awareness is a primary skill. To that end, the author notes that her primary motivation for pursuing the question presented in this paper is that she was diagnosed with, and survived, advanced cancer of the lymphatic system in 2000. The author therefore accepts that she is not entirely neutral with regard to how cancer affects people. With this in mind, the work was broadened out by conducting research into other peoples’ experiences of cancer by collecting their stories and ideas. Twenty-five people were interviewed and surveyed across four groups: people who have cancer, their friends and families, health care professionals and pastors (Booth et al. 2008). The first insight from these stories is that the majority of people found difficulties with the war metaphor. It did appeal to some, for example, one said that, “it is accurate. If you’re not fighting the cancer, you are fighting to stay sane and function normally in the wake of the devastation it brings”. But most found that the idea of war was negative and added to their burden. For example, one person with the illness noted that, “I find those metaphors quite offensive” and another whose relative died from cancer was quite emphatic: “It makes it sounds like they gave up or weren’t strong as a person. Cancer is an evil and very hard disease to overcome…the person didn’t lose, their body was no longer able to take the abuse inflicted by cancer and/or its treatment”. The language we use around cancer might inflict those with the disease with an additional complex of guilt, causing them to question whether they are trying hard enough; an additional burden on top of everything else they have to worry about. Cancer is not simply a terrible disease, but a potentially heavy label which carries a great weight, and its theological burdens cannot be ignored. A Christian with the illness might ponder whether she really is, “wonderfully and fearfully made” as the psalmist sings (Ps. 139) and created in the image of God, as the Doctrine of Creation suggests. Now that the background has been explored, the pastoral theological question may now be formulated: Can theological reflection on the science of cancer offer alternative metaphors for the experience and insights which can aid the work of Christian pastors?

90

Chapter Five

In the next section, the theological method to be used in answering this question is outlined.

Paul Ricoeur Paul Ricoeur was a French philosopher (1913-2005) best known for his work in hermeneutics. He trained in the phenomenological tradition of Continental Philosophy but is also noted for his interdisciplinary work. The breadth of his thought covered many fields, including history and ethics, and in his diverse work on hermeneutics he looked at areas such as dreams, metaphors, sacred texts and human ontology.6 Hermeneutics is the art of interpretation leading to understanding, and using hermeneutics is not new in either the sciences or religion7 though we are perhaps more used to it in theology. For example, consider the word “stain”. It has a literal meaning (what happens when, for example, wine is spilt on the carpet). But it has a theological symbolic double meaning when it is subject to interpretation (a stain on a human person involves ideas of sin, the Fall and the need for redemption offered by Christ). A sign, words, actions, all things can have multiple meanings derived in interpretation, thus good interpretation is a skill and tool for making philosophical and theological enquiry. Indeed Ricoeur would argue that hermeneutics is a factor in any sort of enquiry and at the root of how we gain all knowledge, including self-knowledge. Interpretation is not just about a way of knowing, but rather it is how the knowing affects being in the world (Ricoeur 1981). The German philosopher Martin Heidegger (1889-1976) wrote that the Greek words for “interpreting” and “interpretation”—hermeneuein and hermeneia—can be traced back to “Hermes,” the name of the Greek god (Heidegger 1982). Hermes was a messenger for the god Zeus, communicating from the gods to mortals, and to the underworld. The early modern use of the term “hermeneutics” was normally associated with the interpretation of scripture and described the process of uncovering holy messages. Later the use of the term was broadened to take in methods of understanding and explicating both sacred and secular texts from antiquity. It is a term that continues to suggest an interpretation disclosing something 6

There are many good introductory texts on Ricoeur, for example Pellauer (2007). For example, Wilheim Dilthey wrote that both science and religion require interpretation/hermeneutics: the interpretation of science leads to explanations, while the interpretation of religion leads to understanding. Wolfhart Pannenberg argued that both science and religion seek the role of meaning in human experience.

7

A Future for Science and Theology in Pastoral Hermeneutics

91

hidden from ordinary understanding and which is mysterious. In this way, the interpreter is accessing a body of knowledge from elsewhere, and is a bridge to that place, a mediator between a mysterious other world (Thiselton 2009), to the end that knowledge is increased. Therefore hermeneutics, as we understand it today, refers to both communication and epistemology. The hermeneutical approach is subjective, and is therefore open to criticism, but attempts to mitigate this through various methodological techniques. It is to Ricoeur and his method of interpretation that we turn next. Despite his Protestant background, the focus of Ricoeur’s work was philosophical and not theological, and he did not write much on the natural sciences. But neither did he ignore the field of theological enquiry (Stiver 2012), and it is a growing area of thought how Ricoeur might be used in the interpretation of science. His methods are notoriously difficult to define, due to his productivity and diversity of subjects, but a number of studies show that it is possible to draw out themes and motifs in his work. One such is a recent book by the American theologian Kenneth A. Reynhout (2013) who sums up Ricoeur’s method of interdisciplinary enquiry in the following statement: “Interdisciplinary interpretation is the dialectical process of understanding through explanation” (Reynhout 2013, 68). The statement can be tested by taking the example of reading a text: sometimes in the act of reading, the reader feels they have been changed, perhaps in self-understanding or in philosophical outlook. In the process of reading, the text is interpreted by the reader and understood in a deep way (perhaps in a way that the author did not expect) and “something happens”: new knowledge which changes the interpreter is gained. This process of interpretation is more than just seeking knowledge; rather the Ricoeurian method describes a process by which explanation (the text) is used to carve out deeper self-understanding, even across interdisciplinary boundaries. For Ricoeur, interdisciplinary interpretation is about finding bridges across, or shrinking the distance between, the interpreter and the object of interpretation, in a process which is less about storing up information and more about growth by appropriation. This process is a struggle, but a worthwhile one which seeks to equalise, or bring home, or make one’s own the alien in a process of interpretation; by appropriating across the normal boundaries between subjects, knowledge is gained in a way that deepens self-understanding. Theologians do this naturally. For example, the experience of reading the Gospels deeply and interpreting them in a life of faith can be a deep

92

Chapter Five

and profound process. This type of practice is always subject to the charge of being subjective; however the process which will be described below aims to filter out good interpretations and allow judgments to be made of the validity of any insights drawn. One scholar of Ricoeur, Reynhout, suggests that Ricoeur’s method of interdisciplinary interpretation through the dialectical process of understanding through explanation can be validly applied by theologians wishing to interpret the world of science, i.e. theological knowledge (understanding) may be drawn out through reflection on science (explanation of the natural world). Much of Ricoeur’s work, especially his later work, focuses on hermeneutics of the self: understanding self through the interpretation of experience. He called this “ontology by way of detours” (Reynhout 2013, 54), and the detour he took in this exploration was through philosophy. But it could have been through other subjects. Here his work is expanded such that theological insights are gained by a little detour into science. Let’s go back to the phrase, and break it down a little. The “dialectic” exists between understanding and explanation. The word “dialectic” usually suggests two entities with different points of view engaging with one another to find the truth. Here, however, the dialectic and opposition are about the way that explanation and understanding are created, or the type of knowledge that they describe; “understanding” is a top-down idea of knowledge, where the one is the reason for the many and a synthesis of parts creates a meaningful whole. On the other side is “explanation”, a bottom-up idea of knowledge where it is found by breaking down and finding rules, underlying realities or teleology. Ricoeur writes: “in explanation we ex-plicate or unfold the range of propositions and meanings, whereas in understanding we comprehend or grasp as a whole the chain of partial meanings in one act of synthesis” (Ricoeur 1976, 72). Here I am seeking to address the pastoral theology questions by conducting interdisciplinary interpretation between theological knowledge and the science of cancer; our theological understanding will be challenged by taking a detour into the science of cancer. The dialectic exists between the science of cancer and our theological views, and in the act of interpretation we are hoping to gain understanding which will allow us to address our questions about cancer mythology in the hope of aiding the theology which undergirds all pastoral work. In the Ricoeurian methodology as suggested by Reynhout, an interpretation of the science is done through theological reflection. This requires self-awareness and honesty. To that end, and prior to any

A Future for Science and Theology in Pastoral Hermeneutics

93

discussions of an interpretation, it is important that the following caveats and aims are explicated: 1. The science of cancer is examined, acknowledging that I am not a cancer specialist but it is in the nature of interdisciplinary work that one is often not an expert in one half of the conversation. But we have the ability to learn and to use what we have learnt in theological conversations. There are risks in this approach but that is not unusual in theological reflection. 2. I acknowledge my own framework and pre-existing understandings. I am a Christian priest, cancer survivor and member of a faith community. I am predisposed to certain ways of thinking and ideas about God, creation and theological epistemology. However, I aim to judge my interpretations and accept the possibility that this process might result in a change of theological ideas. 3. This is a subjective process. Thus I acknowledge that multiple meanings are possible, just as the understanding produced may not have universal utilisation. 4. In this process, I am committed to working out the meaning of the science “for me”. I bring to the interpretation certain key theological ideas, namely that I am made in the image of God, wonderfully and fearfully made. I aim not to find new meaning in the text/science or project my own agenda onto the text/science, but rather to discover a “new type of being in the world”, made possible by the interpretation. The first step in this process is to present the explanation: the science of cancer.

The science of cancer Cancer is shockingly ingenious (Weinberg 1999). Rather than being like an enraged bull hurtling around the body, the biochemistry of cell reproduction reveals that cancer is much more like a skilful, wily fox tricking cells into compliance and subverting the systems designed to stop it: The cancer cell is a renegade. Unlike their normal counterparts, cancer cells disregard the needs of the community of cells around them. Cancer cells are only interested in their own proliferative advantage. They are selfish and very unsociable. Most important, unlike normal cells, they have

94

Chapter Five learned to grow without any prompting from the community of cells around them. (Weinberg 1999, 97)

The ten thousand billion or so cells in the human body all work together in harmony, delicately observing one another sending and receiving complex signals to work as one. All cancer needs is one cell that “decides” to do its own thing, without consideration of the greater organism. This type of self-interested biochemistry is a surprisingly unlikely event, given all the cell division that goes on in a human body over its lifetime. But when it does happen, when one cell begins rapid and uncontrolled multiplication, the eventual effect of the tumour is death to the whole body. The roots of this lie in the “blueprint” of the cell, the genetic information that regulates how a cell divides. The key lies with proto-oncogenes, parts of a cell’s genetic code linked to reproduction and susceptible to becoming oncogenes through mutations of the code. The oncogenes are the “cancer genes” and are responsible for cancer-like cell division. The body has several lines of defence against cancerous growth, one of which are the tumour suppressor genes which act as a check and balance to the system, stopping runaway growth. However, if cancer inactivates these genes then runaway growth may occur. Indeed, cancer cells act in many ways to circumvent the body’s defence systems. It may meddle with growth signalling proteins to trick a cell into multiplying, using the cell’s own highly developed systems to bring about its own downfall. Cancer cells can also undermine the cell’s natural clock and its own suicide program. Cellular DNA has an ingenious way of remembering how many times it has already reproduced to safeguard against eternal multiplication. At both ends of the DNA structure there are a string of bases, the ends of which are called telomeres. After each replication, which involves the DNA splitting into RNA and being copied, the telomeres are shorted by about 100 bases. When the ends of these tales are reached, the cells will stop replicating. Some cancer cells however manage to “resurrect” the enzyme which can remake the telomeres, thus subverting a natural way to stop cell division. Targeting telomerase may be an important future development in the treatment of cancer. A cell also has its own self-destruct program called cell apoptosis. A cell will activate this rapid death for several reasons: including if the cell receives irregularities in the internal growth regulating circuitry. This may happen in the event of a cancer cell. Further to this, all cells will activate their suicide programs if an oncogene is activated. It seems like a failsafe security system. But this too the cancer has wheedled out of, cleverly circumnavigating cell apoptosis in a number of ways.

A Future for Science and Theology in Pastoral Hermeneutics

95

The science of why cancer appears at all in the body remains a key research area, and one that is pertinent to our theological enquiry given its links to pastoral questions that it raises. It also remains an active and contentious area of science. Cancer always has its roots in things going wrong at the genetic level. How these changes to the genetic code or DNA happen is a key question in cancer research, especially the weight given to potential causes (www.patient.info/health/what-causes-cancer). There are environmental links to the DNA mutations that cause cancer; some cancers shows there is a strong heredity factor in calculating risk; others argue that it is down to “bad luck”, i.e. it is difficult to predict when there will be a random mutation in the body which leads to cancerous growth. Age, lifestyle and exposure to radiation also are all potential factors. While most research will say it is dependent on cancer type and is a combination of all three potentially, some will highlight the random nature of cancer inception (Tomasetti and Vogelstein 2015), others the environmental factors involved (Wu et al. 2015).

Theological outcomes This offers only a brief sketch of basic cancer histology and a little of the current debates about cancer origins, but it is certainly enough for us to begin a theological reflection. As Ricoeur would say, what does this science mean “for me”? What happens when the explanation (cancer science) is put into a conversation with my theology? What emerges when oncological genetics meets my faith, and the belief that I am uniquely created and loved by God? The following outcomes of this reflective process are as follows: a) The science of cancer once it has appeared in the body (for example, how it avoids the cellular systems that are meant to protect against such growth) does ratify some aspects of the war metaphor. Cancer cells cleverly undermine the cell’s own defence mechanisms, and it seems to be something like a battle of wits to stop it. b) The science of the origin of cancer, whether is it caused by “bad luck”, heredity or environmental factors, disabuses any notion that cancer is a moral judgment, or some kind of personal attack against the body. The random nature of cancer emphasizes that this is not a disease given out in judgment. Our status as Imago Dei is not harmed by the occurrence of a random mutation, whether truly random or dependent on the environment or heredity factors. In its origins, it is not an attack and it is not personal: it’s biochemistry.

Chapter Five

96

c) Although it can be metaphorically seen as a battle to be fought once cancer is diagnosed, it is not a battle against evil or sin or a baddie, but rather a battle of biochemistry and nature. Cancer remains “the enemy” because it kills, but its origins are not in sin/badness/evil which are at the root of the war metaphor. d) The science shows it is cellular dysfunction that is at the root of cancer, and not an external force. At its origins cancer is non-dualistic.

All of these outcomes allow me to preserve my theological selfunderstanding as wonderfully made in the image of God. This theological detour into oncological science does not require me to adjust the doctrine of creation “for me”. But the work does suggest two outcomes.

Revising metaphors and pastoral outcomes Firstly, we need a revised metaphor for cancer, one which is able to encapsulate its origins. The qualitative research amongst those associated with cancer showed that the language we use around the disease really does matter because symbolic language and metaphors hold power; as Ricoeur (1967, 348) wrote, “the symbol gives rise to thought”. The war metaphor pits someone with cancer against their own body, creating unnecessary and false dualisms. Cancer is obviously something to be “fought” as it kills, and once in treatment it may feel like a battle, but there is a danger that the language that is used around the disease turns the sufferer against her own body, when the science shows that cancer is not some evil enemy inside, but rather a function of cellular multiplication within the body which has been initiated externally, or randomly or genetically (all are morally neutral). In the qualitative research amongst those with the disease, friends and family of the ill, medical professionals and pastors who work with the ill, I asked the participants to describe how they thought of cancer, choosing from the following statements: x x x x

An enemy within my body; Something that has gone wrong with my body; Part of my body; None, please suggest a different statement.

Universally, the “friends and family” group chose the statement: “an enemy within my body”. However, all medical professionals and people who had had cancer described it as, “something has gone wrong with my body”. There appears to be a clear difference between those who understand

A Future for Science and Theology in Pastoral Hermeneutics

97

the disease scientifically and those who have the disease, and all those who have to care for those who are ill. Further research would be useful to explore the extent to which friends and family of the ill personify the disease, and the degree to which people with the disease do not. My brief research suggested that the latter group do not feel as alien to the illness as the war metaphor might suggest. New metaphors therefore must dispel dualisms that promote isolation from one’s own body. Rowan Williams (2007) writing a commentary on the healing miracles in St Mark’s gospels points out that they are at root not only about physical healing but rather they focus on restoration and reconnection. For example, when the leper is healed he is allowed to rejoin the community from which he had been excluded (Mark 1: 40-45) and when the paralytic is lowered through the roof to the feet of Jesus, before he is physically healed, Jesus forgives him, perceiving first an inner alienation and fear (Mark 2: 1-12). In cancer, healing is needed not only physically, but psychologically and socially, and reconciliation needs to be found between the self and the body which appears to be killing itself through uncontrolled cell division, driven on by the same force that is part of all healthy cell division. A new metaphorical relationship to the experience of cancer is needed, especially for those engaged with pastoring the ill, one that resonates with both the science of cancer and the theological conviction that we are made in the image of God, wonderfully and fearfully. The metaphors needed must open doors of hope, preventing the polarising fear and paranoia that everything, including one’s own body, is out to get you. In the questionnaire, I asked people to suggest new metaphors and to respond to some suggestions and a number appealed: a tree with a bit of disease; a journey; a boat ride; a garden with lots of work; a dance with many people. The appeal of these metaphors and images is personal, and it would be interesting to extend this work. The second outcome of the theological reflection on the science of cancer is to use what has been learned to help those who are engaged in pastoral ministry to the ill and their friends and family. The survey results from this group, suggest that they understand their role as pastors when ministering around cancer in the following way: x x x x x

to address loneliness and isolation; to listen; to address fear; to show compassion; to address the issues of the war metaphor and feelings that people think it is a judgement against them;

Chapter Five

98 x

to hold the stories.

This is done in a dual capacity as both shepherds and prophets. The science shows that this is not a moral disease, nor is it a result of an external negative attack. This can lead to confidence in dealing with fear and uncertainty, and the theological insight might set a clear mandate for understanding healing as reconciliation. Those with the disease themselves are more likely to be less dualistic in terms of their conception of the disease than friends and family. But this is notwithstanding their prophetic role in proclamation that the sufferings and uncertainty of this life do not mirror the hope and perfection of God. The application of metaphors in cancer is highly personal and the pastor must tread carefully to reflect and encourage those with whom they work. But one job of the pastor is to reframe the experience of a suffering human, opening up space for reflection and allowing freedom in how they think about their situation. With care, it might be possible in the pastoral interaction to mention new metaphorical ideas of the disease, to dangle a different image and disrupt the dominant and unhelpful narrative (Whipp 2013). When done with sensitivity, this has the potential to deepen selfunderstanding and promote healing and reconciliation. This work might also be fruitfully extended into other parts of science, particularly where there is uncertainty. Does a detour into the mathematics of quantum mechanics, for example, throw light on pastoral situations of uncertainty? Would an examination of the science of evolution be of pastoral use to those despairing about genetic mutations? There are many potential areas to explore.

Conclusions In conclusion, the work presented here demonstrates that science, interpreted theologically, deepens self-understanding. This work is rooted in experiences of cancer and the process of theological reflection on science as suggested by the work of Paul Ricoeur. Work such as this shows the value of taking seriously the human experience. Further, it shows the potential for experience to be a unifying focus for science and religion. The task of science is always to find unity of explanation, for example in the Grand Unified Theory of matter. However, theology is much more open to diversity of ideas about God (for example, ideas about the relationship of God to creation throughout the 20th century). In the field of science and religion, it is a significant question how a relationship between science and religion is understood

A Future for Science and Theology in Pastoral Hermeneutics

99

when one is heading for unity, and the other favouring diversity. But where experience and interpretation are taken seriously, then there is potential for a relationship between science and religion to flourish. I chose cancer to work with because I have experienced it, and the healing of reflecting on it theologically. Cancer is a liminal place, a threshold, full of uncertainty but also potential. Interpreting cancer and the science of it theologically is pure hermeneutics, bringing about the potential for a “transformation of thinking” and of being. The question was asked: Can theological reflection on the science of cancer offer alternative metaphors for the experience and insights which can aid the work of Christian pastors? This can be answered affirmatively; reflecting on the science suggested directions for new metaphors and gave pointers for pastors. But more than this, reflecting on the science has the potential to lead those involved in the cancer experience into freedom: release from the hold the war metaphor has over hearts and minds and the freedom to explore how each individual interprets the cancer experience. Freedom and choice based on both science and theology can only aid those going through cancer and their friends and families. This freedom is the central outcome for those who pastor. Interpreting science reveals that a message of hope and freedom needs to be uttered— and more than just speaking, action is needed. It is unarguably a subjective and context-driven situation, but in working with those with the disease, space needs to be created by the pastor: space for analysing the rhetoric of cancer; space to allow for cognitive reframing; space for metaphorical creativity. In these spaces, the pastoral meets the prophetic, and a life which involves suffering and uncertainty has the room to be reimagined. The pastor-prophet holds back the curtain a little, and allows the fullness of life to be glimpsed, the Gospel good news to be reflected, and the poetic in the Gospel to resonate: Work and action, prayer and presence, informed by science and enlivened by faith. Cancer is a journey that no one would choose to embark upon. But theological reflection and space for metaphorical creativity can be liberating to those who are journeying, such that when they look ahead to the path that is set before them they may see the horizon tinged with light and with the hope of the resurrection.

100

Chapter Five

References Booth, W. C., Colomb, G. and Williams, J. M. 2008. The Craft of Research, Third edition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Browning, D. 1991. A Fundamental Practical Theology: Descriptive and Strategic Proposals. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press. Bultmann, R. 1951-55. Theology of the New Testament, 2 volumes. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Cancer Research UK. 2015. “1 in 2 people in the UK will get cancer”, Cancer Research UK Press Release, 4 February. Available at: http://www.cancerresearchuk.org/about-us/cancer-news/pressrelease/2015-02-04-1-in-2-people-in-the-uk-will-get-cancer. Graham, E. 1996. Transforming Practice. London: Mowbury. —. 2006. “Pastoral Theology in an age of uncertainty”, HTS Theological Studies, 62:3, 845-865. —. 2009. Words Made Flesh: Writings in Practical and Pastoral Theology. London: SCM Press. Heidegger, M. 1982. On the Way to Language. New York: Harper and Row. Lartney, E. 1997. In Living Colour: An Intercultural Approach to Pastoral Care and Counselling. London: Cassell. Loder, J. 2000. “The Place of Science in Practical Theology: The Human Factor”, International Journal of Practical Theology, 4:1, 22-41. Pattison, S. 2000. “Some Straw for the Bricks: A Basic Introduction to Theological Reflection”, in Woodward, J. and Pattison, S. (eds.), The Blackwell Reader in Pastoral and Practical Theology, First edition. Oxford: Blackwell, 135-145. Pattison, S. and Lynch, G. 2005. “Pastoral and Practical Theology”, in Ford, D. F. and Muers, R. (eds.), The Modern Theologians, Third edition. Oxford: Blackwell. Pattison, S. and Woodward, J. 1994. A Vision of Pastoral Theology. Edinburgh: Contact Pastoral. Pellauer, D. 2007. Ricoeur: A Guide for the Perplexed. London: Continuum. Polanyi, M. 1962. Personal Knowledge. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Reynhout, K. A. 2013. Interdisciplinary Interpretation: Paul Ricoeur and the Hermeneutics of Theology and Science. Plymouth: Lexington Books. Ricoeur, P. 1967. The Symbolism of Evil, trans. Buchanan, E. New York: Harper and Row.

A Future for Science and Theology in Pastoral Hermeneutics

101

—. 1976. Interpretation Theory: Discourse and the Surplus of Meaning. Fort Worth, TX: Christian University Press. —. 1981. “The task of hermeneutics”, in Thompson, J. B. (ed.), Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences: Essays on language, action and interpretation. New York: Cambridge University Press, 43-44. Sontag, S. 1988. Illness as Metaphor. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Stiver, D. R. 2012. Ricoeur and Theology. London: Bloomsbury. Swinton, J. and Mowat, H. 2006. Practical Theology and Qualitative Research. London: SCM Press. Thiselton, A. C. 2009. Hermeneutics: An Introduction. Cambridge, MA: Eerdmans. Tillich, P. 1959. The Theology of Culture. London: Oxford University Press. Tomasetti, C. and Vogelstein, B. 2015. “Variation in cancer risk among tissues can be explained by the number of stem cell divisions”, Science, 347:6219, 78-81. Weinberg, R. A. 1999. One Renegade Cell: How Cancer Begins. New York: Basic Books. Whipp, M. 2013. Pastoral Theology. London: SCM Press. Williams, R. 2007. “A Theology of Health for Today”, in Baxter, J. (ed.), Wounds that Heal: Theology, Imagination and Health, First edition. London: SPCK, 3-14. Woodward, J. and Pattison, S. (eds.) 2000. The Blackwell Reader in Pastoral and Practical Theology. Oxford: Blackwell. Wu, S., Powers, S., Zhu, W., and Hannun, Y. A. 2015. “Substantial Contribution of Extrinsic Risk Factures to Cancer Development”, Nature, 16 December, advanced online publication.

CHAPTER SIX PROOFS, POINTERS AND THE WOW FACTOR: A RELATIVELY OBSCURE DURHAM CONTRIBUTION TO THE BIG QUESTIONS DAVID WILKINSON

Introduction The conference explored the past and future engagement of science and religion. One of the threads that runs through such an exploration has been the design argument. Indeed, in moments when we feel such an argument has died a death, it resurrects itself, sometimes in a new form and sometimes in its more traditional formulation. Thus the mortal wounds inflicted on the design argument in the 19th century by Darwin and the post-Darwinian controversies did not stop Sir James Jeans in the interwar period of the 20th century, or the rise of anthropic arguments in the last four decades, or indeed the more recent rise of the movement of Intelligent Design. Indeed the popularity of multiverses in modern cosmology can be seen in part as a reaction against a possible restatement of the design argument. Yet the design argument may be more complicated than the introductions to science and religion describe it. To illustrate this I would like to go a remarkable but little known figure in the history of Durham University, Temple Chevallier (1794-1873). His life has many remarkable parallels with Charles Darwin, but more importantly his presentation of the design argument shows its subtlety of use in the 19th century (Wilkinson 2015). It also has much relevance for those who may engage with it today.

Chevallier: Astronomer and Theologian Chevallier was a huge influence in establishing mathematics, engineering and astronomy which have become leading features of research at

Proofs, Pointers and the Wow Factor

103

Durham. His career began in Cambridge when he entered Pembroke College in 1813, taking a BA in 1817 with a strong mathematical flavour. He was made Fellow of Pembroke College in 1819, and in 1820 became Fellow and tutor of what became St Catherine’s College. In 1818 he was ordained in the Church of England and between 1821 and 1834 was priest at St Andrew the Great in Cambridge. This must have been a formative period for Chevallier, as a scientist and a theologian, in a Cambridge heavily influenced by the work of William Paley. William Paley had arrived in Cambridge in 1759, and in 1766 he was elected a fellow of Christ’s College, acting as tutor from 1771 to 1774. In 1775 Paley left Cambridge for a series of ecclesiastical appointments but in 1794 his Evidences of Christianity was warmly received and in 1795 he received the Doctorate of Divinity from Cambridge. In 1802 he published his most significant book, Natural Theology; or, Evidences of the Existence and Attributes of the Deity. It is generally held that his works were used at Cambridge for nearly half a century after his death. An oft quoted example is that as an undergraduate at Cambridge, Charles Darwin read much of Paley’s writings: In order to pass the B.A. examination, it was also necessary to get up Paley’s Evidences of Christianity, and his Moral Philosophy. This was done in a thorough manner, and I am convinced that I could have written out the whole of the Evidences with perfect correctness, but not of course in the clear language of Paley. The logic of this book, and, as I may add, of his Natural Theology, gave me as much delight as did Euclid. The careful study of these works, without attempting to learn any part by rote, was the only part of the academical course which, as I then felt and as I still believe, was of the least use to me in the education of my mind. I did not at that time trouble myself about Paley’s premises; and taking these on trust, I was charmed and convinced by the long line of argumentation. (Darwin 1902, 34-35)

Natural Theology uses the workings of the body, the functions of animals and plants, and the arrangement of the human frame to show divine providence, although it is interesting that on astronomy Paley states, My opinion of Astronomy has always been, that it is not the best medium through which to prove the agency of an intelligent Creator; but that, this being proved, it shows, beyond all other sciences, the magnificence of his operations. The mind which is once convinced, it raises to sublimer views of the Deity than any other subject affords; but it is not so well adapted, as some other subjects are, to the purpose of argument. (Paley 1809, 378)

104

Chapter Six

It is clear that Chevallier saw his faith, science and indeed ministry closely entwined. When in 1834 he was offered the Chair of Mathematics at the newly founded University of Durham, he wrote: I shall not take it, unless I see a fair prospect of obtaining at the same time some parochial duty: for having been so long engaged in a parish, I do not mean to secularize myself so completely as I should do in that case. I should not make that a point if I could have the Divinity Professorship. (Chevallier 1834)

It is also clear that Chevallier was disappointed never to be offered the Chair in Divinity. He accepted the Chair of Mathematics in 1835 and also became Reader in Hebrew. When his colleague the Revd Henry Jenkins was preferred as acting Professor of Divinity, Chevallier could not stop himself commenting, “an able man, but wants unction; and has never had charge of a parish” (Chevallier 1835). He continued to hold both of these posts until 1871. In addition, in 1841 he became Professor of Astronomy and took the lead in establishing an observatory in Durham. If this was not sufficient for Chevallier, he also acted as Registrar of the University between 1835 and 1865, notably battling with the then Bishop of Ely who rejected some Durham graduates as candidates for ordination. Chevallier cannot be understood without seeing him as a committed pastor as well as academic. This tradition of the scientist who is also a priest can often be ignored in discussions of science and religion, but is important from Copernicus onwards. Here it still exists in the 19th century and influences Chevallier. Between 1835 and 1873 he served as parish priest of Esh, undertaking the rebuilding of the church largely at his own expense. Later in 1858 he became Rural Dean, and in 1865 Residentiary Canon of Durham Cathedral. The churchyard at Esh reveals the death of his only son at the age of 15, in a parallel to the death of Annie Darwin which affected Darwin’s faith so much. Chevallier did not experience such a loss of faith and also seemed unaffected in his faith by the Darwinian controversies. In terms of his academic work he wrote many papers on astronomy and physics including meteorology (Kenworthy and Lowes 1993, 51-6). He was the first to institute in England regular and continuous observation of sunspots and made important observations of Jupiter’s moons. So significant was his work that a lunar crater is named after him. In theology he published a translation of the Apostolic Fathers that went into a second edition (Chevallier 1833).

Proofs, Pointers and the Wow Factor

105

Yet his thinking on the relationship of science and religion is shown most clearly in his Hulsean Lectures given in Cambridge in 1826 and 1827, “On the proofs of Divine Power and Wisdom, derived from the study of astronomy and the evidence, doctrines and precepts of Revealed Religion”.

On the proofs of divine power The form of these lectures is instructive. They are given as 20 sermons on “the evidence for revealed religion”. The first 12 lectures explicitly follow the pattern of Psalm 19, with four on astronomy, four on the Bible and four on the spiritual life. The pattern is important, for it represents his theological understanding of natural and revealed theology. Thus: Lectures 1-4 1The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. 2Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge. 3There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard. 4Their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world. In the heavens he has pitched a tent for the sun, 5which is like a bridegroom coming forth from his pavilion, like a champion rejoicing to run his course. 6It rises at one end of the heavens and makes its circuit to the other; nothing is hidden from its heat. 7The law of the LORD is perfect, reviving the soul. The statutes of the LORD are trustworthy, making wise the simple. 8The precepts of the LORD are right, giving joy to the heart. The commands of the LORD are radiant, giving light to the eyes. 9The fear of the LORD is pure, enduring forever. The ordinances of the LORD are sure and altogether righteous. 10They are more precious than gold, than much pure gold; they are sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb. 11By them is your servant warned; in keeping them there is great reward. 12Who can discern his errors? Forgive my hidden faults. 13Keep your servant also from willful sins; may they not rule over me. Then will I be blameless, innocent of great transgression. 14May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer. (Chevallier 1827)

It is not entirely clear how the other 8 relate to this theme, and one might suspect that Chevallier was employing a few older sermons to fill up the program.

106

Chapter Six

Nevertheless, the structure of the first 12 sermons shows someone schooled in the Cambridge of Paley, yet holding together natural theology and the revealed theology of the Bible. If Paley had represented a move away from revealed theology to a greater dependence on natural theology and in particular the design argument, this was not shown in Chevallier. From this holding together of natural and revealed theology, a number of themes emerge in the lectures. First, science is a gift from God. The current popular media image models the relationship of science and religion as one of conflict, represented either in the work of Richard Dawkins or in six day creationism and Intelligent Design. This conflict is often read back into the 19th century, but Chevallier shows that this was far from the truth. He embodied a tradition for Christians which saw science as a gift. This is implicit in his Hulsean Lectures, shown through his delight in using many particular examples of the work and experience of scientists from Newton to Jeremiah Horrox’s observation of the transit of Venus. In fact in a lecture delivered in 1836 to the University of Durham entitled “The Study of Mathematics as Conducive to the Development of the Intellectual Powers” (Chevallier 1836), Chevallier responded to an article in the Edinburgh Review which claimed “every step in mathematical demonstration calls forth an absolute minimum of thought”, “in mathematics, dullness is elevated into talent, and talent degraded into incapacity” and “a great genius cannot be a mathematician”. His response argues for the beauty and usefulness of mathematics and the natural sciences, not least in pointing to the wisdom and power of a creator. This was a gift from God and therefore cannot be dismissed as unimportant. Mathematics and the natural sciences were given “to contemplate the Creator in his works”. Of course, Chevallier was here simply part of the legacy of the influence of Christian faith on the growth of science (Collingwood 1940; Foster 1934; Hooykaas 1973; Oakley 1961; Russell 1985; Zilsel 1942). His passion for science flowed out of his Christian convictions about the world. There were many in the 19th century who shared this point of view, not least Michael Faraday (1791-1867), who was characterised as “his deepest intuitions about the physical world sprang from this religious faith in the Divine origin of nature” (Williams 1965, 4). This was more a theology of nature rather than natural theology. Second, science demonstrates the power of God. In lecture 1 Chevallier explores divine power using the text from Psalm 19:1 “The heavens declare the glory of God”. It is here that his interest in astronomy comes to the fore. He uses the size of the universe to communicate not only the

Proofs, Pointers and the Wow Factor

107

greatness of God but also a sense of perspective for human beings. He surveys the solar system and also uses discoveries from telescopes to discuss binary stars and groups of stars. While he acknowledges that these considerations almost bewilder our minds, they point to how amazing is the God who created all this. This is a use of science which does not attempt to give logical knock down proofs of the existence of God, but to give a sense of perspective, excitement and amazement at the universe. It engages the emotions as well as reason. In popular descriptions of the design argument, it is often portrayed as an attempt to prove the existence of God. Here Chevallier has a much more modest aim in using awe to raise questions of how great God is. Third, scientific laws are a reflection of God’s working. In lecture 2, Chevallier discusses the force of gravitation and uses it to speak about the nature of scientific laws. He objects to Newton’s view that God is needed to occasionally intervene in sustaining the orbits of the planets in the solar system. In lecture 4 he discusses Buffon’s hypothesis that it was a comet which dragged out material from the Sun to form planets. He argues from the orbits of the planets that this is not the case, but then notes that even if correct it does not remove the Creator, as God is the source of the law of gravitation by which these things happen. If on the other hand Laplace is correct, and the planets formed in the collapse of solar nebula, Chevallier raises the question of where does the initial rotation come from? Yet seeing the possibility that the initial rotation could be explained by science, once again he argues that this does not rule out a Creator, and at this point quotes Paley, referring to the scientific explanation as the “instruments by which it may have pleased the Almighty to execute his will” but as not explaining “the wisdom” (Chevallier 1827). If the scientific laws explain the workings of the solar system, where do the laws themselves come from? Thus Chevallier opposed any sense of what today is called a god of the gaps (Coulson 1955, 7), where God becomes the explanation of science’s unanswered questions. Pointing to the laws of physics is not invoking a god of the gaps, as science cannot explain where the laws come from, it simply assumes them. It needs to be noted that Chevallier is not always consistent. He can be tempted by the god of the gaps, flirting with the question of where the initial rotation of the solar system comes from and later discussing the initial placing and movement of the rings of Saturn, but in the end he points to the laws as the way God creates and sustains. By pointing to God’s creativity being within the scientific laws, Chevallier also guards

108

Chapter Six

against deism in seeing God simply as the one who starts the system off and then leaves it to itself. Fourth, science can give pointers to design. While acknowledging in lectures 2 and 3 that the biological world is more popular in discussions of design, Chevallier continues to be eager to use his interest in astronomy. Here he points to both law and circumstance. As we have seen, the laws of physics are a reflection for him of the providence of God. Now he explores a number of circumstances which make life both possible and beautiful, including the distance of the earth from the sun, the stability of the planetary system, the seasons, the density of water, the density of the air, the proportion of land and sea, the tides and the fact that the sun is the only luminous body in the solar system. This is very reminiscent of discussions of anthropic balances in recent years (Davies 2006; Rees 2000), but Chevallier never uses these discussions of circumstances to offer a proof for God’s existence. They are simply used as pointers to the creative skill of God in a universe which brings forth and sustains life. Fifth, science has its limits. While Chevallier flirts with a god of the gaps, it never turns into the type of approach current in the contemporary version of Intelligent Design, or a more classical design argument based on logical reasoning. This is because of his high view of scripture. God is known because he reveals himself in his Word. As Chevallier works through Psalm 19, in Lecture 5 he concludes: “But at this very point, where the feeble torch of reason ceases to direct our footsteps in the investigation of truth, the word of God shines forth, a lamp to our feet, and a light to our path” (Chevallier 1827, 93). There will be those who will find too much of a discontinuity here, and it is true that Chevallier moves quickly from the book of God’s works to the book of God’s word. But for Chevallier biblical revelation gives the context to understand the pointers of awe, the laws and design. Science has its limits in bringing us to knowledge of who God is. Indeed in Lecture 1 he had set the scene, criticising those who have pride in reason and commenting (noting from above that Chevallier’s use of “proofs” may be better understood as “pointers”): In the heavens, as in every other part of creation, there exist proofs of power and design. And if we stop short in our researches, without extending our thoughts from the wonders of nature to the God of nature, we omit to do that which reason recommends and revelation enjoins. (Chevallier 1827, 9)

Proofs, Pointers and the Wow Factor

109

It is Chevallier’s commitment to holding together biblical revelation with his science which will later in the century allow him to respond to evolution without hostility or any sense of it being a threat. He was one of 717 “gentlemen”, many of whom were the leading scientists of the day, who signed “The Declaration of Students of the Natural and Physical Sciences” in 1865: We, the undersigned Students of the Natural Sciences, desire to express our sincere regret, that researches into scientific truth are perverted by some in our own times into occasion for casting doubt upon the Truth and Authenticity of the Holy Scriptures. We conceive that it is impossible for the Word of God, as written in the book of nature, and God's Word written in Holy Scripture, to contradict one another, however much they may appear to differ … We cannot but deplore that Natural Science should be looked upon with suspicion by many who do not make a study of it, merely on account of the unadvised manner in which some are placing it in opposition to Holy Writ. We believe that it is the duty of every Scientific Student to investigate nature simply for the purpose of elucidating truth, and that if he finds that some of his results appear to be in contradiction to the Written Word, or rather to his own interpretations of it, which may be erroneous, he should not presumptuously affirm that his own conclusions must be right, and the statements of Scripture wrong; rather, leave the two side by side till it shall please God to allow us to see the manner in which they may be reconciled. (Cited in Gay 2007)

This declaration responded in part to the earlier Oxford Declaration, organized by a group of High Anglicans, which gathered signatures to demand that the Church of England hold to the inspiration and divine authority of the Bible (Chadwick 1970, 84). Chevallier, and others who were scientists and Christians, wanted to resist the tendency to denounce science for the sake of defending scripture. Rather they wanted to affirm science as a gift from God, and lay science and the scriptures side by side believing that the Author of both would not allow them to ultimately contradict. The Declaration illustrates very well the point that the responses to Darwin were complex. Further Chevallier resonates with the argument of Livingstone that many of “Darwin’s forgotten defenders” were those who had a strong commitment to the authority of scripture (Livingstone 1987).

The heavens declare the glory of God: the revival of the design argument Chevallier gives us an example of the use of astronomy in natural theology but also a strong commitment to seeing that natural theology in

110

Chapter Six

the context of revealed theology, an example that is helpful to bear in mind in light of the revival of natural theology in contemporary cosmology (Wilkinson 1990). If we were to take Chevallier’s approach with the science of today what might it look like? I would suggest that he would see a number of pointers in the way the heavens declare the glory of God. First, the size of the universe revealed by telescopes from the twentieth century onwards is not a trivial thing to note. One recent observation by the Hubble Space Telescope was of a galaxy, EGSY8p7, which is one of the furthest objects in the universe, 13.2 billion light years away. Of course as we look out into the universe, so we look back in time, and we are seeing this galaxy as it was within a billion years of the Big Bang itself. The forthcoming (and much delayed) launch of the James Webb Space Telescope will extend even more our ability to look further into the universe, perhaps to within 500 million years of its origin. Of course EGSY8p7 is only one galaxy within 100 billion galaxies in the universe, each typically containing 100 billion stars. For Chevallier this would be a source of awe about the power of God in creation. Second, the intelligibility of the universe is an astonishing experience of science. When in July 2012, the discovery of a Higgs boson-like particle was claimed at the Large Hadron Collider at CERN, this was greeted in some of the popular press as the “god particle” and portrayed as yet another triumph of science over religion. However, the confirmation of the theoretical prediction by Peter Higgs and others that this particle gives mass to elementary particles gives us enhanced confidence in the standard model of particle physics. And it is striking how simple and elegant this standard model is. There is no one discovery that will show us God, but the beauty of the laws of physics, and the fact that these laws are intelligible to us, poses the question of whether there is a deeper story to the universe. For someone such as Chevallier who is convinced that the Creator God has revealed himself in his Word, the intelligibility of the laws of physics is fully consistent with this belief. Third, in the words of Paul Davies what are we to make of the “goldilocks enigma”? (Davies 2006) For some four decades, astronomers have been toying with the design argument on the basis that the finetuning of the laws and circumstances of the universe which lead to intelligent life are extraordinary. It has been influential on physicists such as Sir Fred Hoyle, who would be far from traditional Christian theism. Perhaps the clearest exposition of its significance came in Rees’ Just Six Numbers (Rees 2000). He highlights the apparent fine-tuning of the ratio of the electrical force to gravitational force, how firmly atomic nuclei bind

Proofs, Pointers and the Wow Factor

111

together, the amount of material in the universe, the cosmological constant, the ratio of energy needed to disperse an object compared to its total rest mass energy and the number of spatial dimensions in the universe. If any of these were just slightly different from what they actually are, intelligent life would not develop within the universe. He then gives three options to explain this striking feature of the universe. First, one can simply accept that this is just the way it is, and not ask further questions. Rees resists this option on the grounds that this fine-tuning is of such an extraordinary degree that it pushes you to consider whether there is a deeper story to the universe. The second option is to see it as evidence of a creator God. This is not discussed in depth. The third option is the one he sees as “compellingly attractive” and “a natural deduction from some (albeit speculative) theories” (Rees 2000, 150). This is that the anthropic principle selects this universe out of many. We see fine-tuning because we are here to observe it. In another universe where there is no fine-tuning there would be no observers to see it. The move here is to introduce the concept of many universes or the multiverse. This has become very popular in recent discussions, and there are a multitude of multiverse theories. One popular in the eighties and nineties claimed that the mass of the universe is so great that eventually gravity will reverse the expansion bringing the universe back to a Big Crunch. Some then said that the universe “bounces” back into a Big Bang and the process of this oscillating universe goes on into infinity, thus providing an infinite number of universes. At each “bounce” the parameters change leading to different universes. This way of imaging an infinite number of universes was ruled out by the observation in the late nineties that our universe would in fact expand forever and not collapse. A second observation is to say that our universe is one of many bubble universes which emerge out of fluctuations in a quantum field. Just as you form different sizes of bubbles with detergent on the surface of water, our universe may have been one among many and had just the correct finetuning to expand and produce observers. A third and somewhat bizarre suggestion is Everett’s interpretation of quantum theory, which says that whenever a measurement is made of the quantum world the universe fulfils all quantum possibilities, forming a new universe with each possibility. This leads to literally billions and billions of independent universes all slightly different from each other. However, this coupling of the anthropic principle with a theory of many universes is more of a metaphysical suggestion than a physical theory. The question must be asked, in what sense do other universes exist if they have no observable consequences? The trouble with these theories

112

Chapter Six

of many universes is just how do you pass information from one universe to another in order to know that it is there? (This is in fact a complex argument. If for example a particular theory, inflation, is required to explain certain features of our own early universe and a particular form of this theory predicts the existence of other universes, is this a physical or metaphysical theory?) There are many who argue, with some justification, that talk of many universes goes beyond physics, to the extent that it becomes an explanation of the way the world is on the same level as religious or philosophical explanations. How do we then assess the anthropic principle, the multiverse and finetuning? These concepts sound a necessary note of caution that our observation of the universe is dependent on the fact that we are here. And they further give an alternative (if only metaphysical) explanation of design. The design argument depends on the possibility that there is no other explanation apart from that of a designer. What Darwin did in the 19th century was to give through natural selection an alternative explanation to design. This was far more powerful in subverting the design argument than the philosophical criticisms of Kant and Hume given years before. Likewise the possibility of a multiverse cautions us against resurrecting the design argument as a means of proving the existence of God. Yet the Goldilocks enigma of fine-tuning can still be used in a manner reminiscent of Chevallier in pointing to at least a question of whether there is a deeper story to the universe. Fourth, might there be another pointer to a deeper story to the universe in its very futility. In 1998 the Supernova Cosmology Project of Saul Perlmutter and the High-Z Supernovae Search which was headed by Brian Schmidt and Adam Riess discovered, quite unexpectedly, that the universe is accelerating in its rate of expansion due to some unknown type of force, possibly so-called “dark energy” (Perlmutter 2003; Perlmutter et al. 1999; Riess et al. 1998, 2001). The significance of this discovery was recognized in the award of the Nobel Prize in 2011. In fact such an interpretation has been confirmed by more recent results from the Wilkinson Microwave Anisotropy Probe (WMAP) and the European Space Agency Planck satellite (Hinshaw et al. 2013; Peiris et al. 2003). While many scientific questions remain, the bleak future of such a universe is an accelerated heat death. When the universe is 1012 years old, stars cease to form, as there is no hydrogen left. At this stage all massive stars have now turned into neutron stars and black holes. At 1014 years, small stars become white dwarfs. The universe becomes a cold and uninteresting place composed of dead stars and black holes.

Proofs, Pointers and the Wow Factor

113

As might be expected, science has attempted to provide some optimism and indeed salvation for human life. Some have pointed to the possibility that this universe may be one of many and therefore the demise of this universe needs to be seen in the context of the “endless fertility” of new universes. However Polkinghorne comments that such a scenario presents “a scene of occasional islands of meaningfulness erupting within an ocean of absurdity” (Polkinghorne 2002, 27). Alternatively, Dyson and Tipler are struck by the ability of humans to manipulate the environment on Earth and wonder if this could be extrapolated forward. Dyson suggests that biological life would adapt first through genetic engineering to redesign organisms that could cope in such a universe. Then consciousness would be transferred to new kinds of hardware that would be able to cope with the ultra-low temperatures of a heat death universe, including for example a complex dust cloud. In this way “life and intelligence are potentially immortal” (Dyson 1988). Tipler sees consciousness transferred to computers which expand across space. He argues that it is possible on such a model that a point will be reached when an infinite or maximum amount of information will have been processed, and “life” has expanded everywhere in the universe (Tipler 1994). However, both Dyson’s and Tipler’s models cannot cope with an accelerating universe. Science cannot change the prediction that the future of the universe itself is futility. Paul Davies suggests that an “almost empty universe growing steadily more cold and dark for all eternity is profoundly depressing” (Davies 2002, 48). Once again we are faced with an interesting question of whether this futility points forward to a deeper source of hope for the future. In the same way that Paul in Romans 8 speaks of a creation straining forward and longing for the future, might the Christian conviction of a new creation based on the resurrection of Jesus be a conversation partner in the face of pessimism for the long-term future of the universe (Wilkinson 2010)?

Conclusion Temple Chevallier in the midst of the 19th century saw no conflict between science and religion. In fact, the joy and beauty of science was a reflection of it being a gift from God. He also shows a complexity in his use of science for theological purposes. The language of proof to modern day ears may be misleading. He saw astronomy as giving pointers or evidences not to the existence of God but to the divine power. His belief in God came supremely through his commitment to the fact that God reveals himself in the Bible.

114

Chapter Six

There are strong indications, contrary to the popular view, that negative responses to Darwin were not because the theory of evolution was an attack on scripture, but because it was an attack on the design argument (Wilkinson 2009). This argument had become isolated from a commitment to biblical revelation. Thus Darwin’s alternative explanation for design attacked the core of the basis of belief in God. Chevallier did not share this approach and so did not feel threatened by Darwin. This is a caution to those who see today the possibility of a resurrected design argument. Whether in the work of cosmologists such as Paul Davies or the new advocates of Intelligent Design, there is little place for the role of biblical revelation. This makes such arguments vulnerable to god of the gaps and deism. It is much better to develop natural theology under the context of revealed theology, developing a theology of nature where awe, intelligibility, fine-tuning and even futility can become pointers to the God-human relationship in a cosmic context or at the very least be seen as indicators that there is a deeper story to the universe which lies beyond science’s ability to fully explain.

References Chadwick, O. 1970. The Victorian Church. London: Adam and Charles Black. Chevallier, T. 1827. On the proofs of divine power and wisdom derived from the study of astronomy: and on the evidence, doctrines, and precepts of revealed religion, Hulsean lectures, Cambridge. London: Printed by J. Smith ... for J. & J.J. Deighton ... and C. & J. Rivington. —. 1833. A translation of the epistles of Clement of Rome, Polycarp, and Ignatius and of the apologies of Justin Martyr and Tertullian / with an introduction and brief notes illustrative of the ecclesiastical history of the first two centuries. Cambridge, London: Printed by J. Smith ... for J. & J.J. Deighton ... and J.G. & F. Rivington. —. 1834. “Letter No. 2, 31 October 1834, to Revd George Elwes Corrie”, Additional Manuscripts 837: Revd Temple Chevallier correspondence, 1832-1865, Durham University Library, Archives & Special Collections. —. 1835. “Letter No. 9, 21 November 1835, to Revd George Elwes Corrie”, Additional Manuscripts 837: Revd Temple Chevallier correspondence, 1832-1865, Durham University Library, Archives & Special Collections.

Proofs, Pointers and the Wow Factor

115

—. 1836. The Study of Mathematics as Conducive to the Developement of the Intellectual Powers … A terminal lecture delivered before the University of Durham, March 11, 1836. Durham: John W. Parker. Collingwood, R. G. 1940. An Essay on Metaphysics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Coulson, C. A. 1955. Science and Religion: A Changing Relationship. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Darwin, F. (ed.) 1902. Charles Darwin: his life told in an autobiographical chapter, and in a selected series of his published letters, edited by his son, Francis Darwin. London: Murray. Davies, P. 2002. “Eternity: Who Needs It?” in Ellis, G. F. R. (ed.), The Far Future Universe: Eschatology from a Cosmic Perspective. Radnor: Templeton Foundation Press, 41-52. —. 2006. The Goldilocks Enigma: Why Is the Universe Just Right for Life? London: Allen Lane. Dyson, F. 1988. Infinite in All Directions. New York: Harper & Row. Foster, M. B. 1934. “The Christian doctrine of creation and the rise of modern science”, Mind, 43, 446-468. Gay, H. 2007. ““The Declaration of Students of the Natural and Physical Sciences”, revisited Youth, Science, and Religion, in mid-Victorian Britain”, in Sweet, W., and Feist, R. (eds.), Religion and the Challenges of Science. Aldershot: Ashgate, 19-41. Hinshaw, G., et al. 2013. “Nine-year Wilkinson Microwave Anisotropy Probe (WMAP) Observations: Cosmological Parameter Results”, Astrophysics Journal Supplement, 208, 19-25. Hooykaas, R. 1973. Religion and the Rise of Modern Science. Edinburgh: Scottish Academic Press. Kenworthy, J. M. and Lowes, M. D. 1993. “The Chevalier family: their contribution to meteorology in the north-east of England”, Weather, 48(2), 51-6. Livingstone, D. 1987. Darwin's Forgotten Defenders. Edinburgh: Scottish Academic Press. Oakley, F. 1961. “Christian theology and the Newtonian science: Rise of the concepts of the laws of nature”, Church History, 30, 433-457. Paley, W. 1809. Natural Theology: or, Evidences of the Existence and Attributes of the Deity, Twelfth edition. London: Printed for J. Faulder. Peiris, H. V., et al. 2003. “First Year Wilkinson Microwave Anisotropy Probe (WMAP) Observations: Implications for Inflation”, Astrophysics Journal Supplement, 148, 213. Perlmutter, S., et al. 1999. “Measurements of Omega and Lambda from 42 High-Redshift Supernovae”, Astrophysics Journal, 517, 565.

116

Chapter Six

Perlmutter, S. 2003. “Supernovae, Dark Energy, and the Accelerating Universe”, Physics Today, April 2003, 53-60. Polkinghorne, J. C. 2002. The God of Hope and the End of the World. London: SPCK. Rees, M. 2000. Just Six Numbers: The Deep Forces that Shape the Universe. London: Weidenfeld & Nicholson. Riess, A., et al. 1998. “Observational Evidence from Supernovae for an Accelerating Universe and a Cosmological Constant”, The Astronomical Journal, 116 (3), 1009 - 1038. Riess, A., et al. 2001. “The Farthest Known Supernova: Support for an Accelerating Universe and a Glimpse of the Epoch of Deceleration”, Astrophysics Journal, 560, 49-71. Russell, C. 1985. Cross Currents: Interactions Between Science and Faith. Leicester: Inter Varsity Press. Tipler, F. J. 1994. The Physics of Immortality. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson. Wilkinson, D. A. 1990. “The Revival of Natural Theology in Contemporary Cosmology”, Science and Christian Belief, 2(2), 95-116. —. 2009. “The Work of a Friend: Theology in the Light of the Origin of Species”, Epworth Review, 36(2), 45-65. —. 2010. Christian Eschatology and the Physical Universe. London: T&T Clark. —. 2015. “Proofs of the divine power? Temple Chevallier and the design argument in the 19th century”, Scottish Journal of Theology, 68(1), 3442. Williams, L. P. 1965. Michael Faraday. London: Chapman & Hall. Zilsel, E. 1942. “The genesis of the concept of physical law”, Philosophical Review, 51, 245-279.

PART II

CHAPTER SEVEN IS THE DIALOGUE OF SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY SELF-DEFEATING? A RESPONSE TO THE “HARRISON THESIS” MICHAEL FULLER

The “Harrison Thesis” The historian Peter Harrison delivered the 2011 Gifford Lectures at the University of Edinburgh, which were subsequently published under the title “The Territories of Science and Religion”. At the conclusion of this book, Harrison makes a remarkable statement: “[the] urging of a consonance between science and religion reinforce[s] the very conditions that make conflict possible. Advocates of constructive dialogue are thus unknowingly complicit in the perpetuation of conflict” (Harrison 2015, 198, my emphasis). This claim,—that those who wish to pursue a dialogue between science and religion are unconsciously “buying into” an understanding of these two areas of human endeavour which sets them at odds, and that such dialogue is thus compromised from the outset—will be referred to in this paper as the “Harrison Thesis”. Ever since Ian Barbour offered “dialogue” as one of the categories in his celebrated four-fold paradigm for categorising the ways in which science and religion interrelate (see Barbour 1998, 77ff.; Barbour 2000), the notion of “dialogue” has featured heavily in the work of Science and Religion scholars (e.g. McGrath 1998; Polkinghorne 1995; Richardson and Wildman 1996). If the pursuit of dialogue is in fact inadvertently reinforcing conflict between science and religion, then that dialogue would appear to be self-defeating, and its future—one of the topics being considered in this Symposium—would appear to be bleak. The aim of this paper is to scrutinise the background Harrison offers for his Thesis; and, on the assumption that it is a justified one, to offer pointers towards alternative ways of thinking about the future of the interrelationships

Is the Dialogue of Science and Theology Self-Defeating?

119

between science and religion, moving away from the notion of dialogue as it has hitherto been understood. How, then, does Harrison arrive at the understanding which leads him to advance this Thesis? At the outset of his book he introduces a powerful analogy to illustrate the point he wishes to make (it is this analogy which gives his book its title). One cannot look at a map from the sixteenth century and expect to see “Israel” and “Egypt” on it. The geographical territory now occupied by those nation-states was there, to be sure; but at that point in time, it was part of the Ottoman Empire. In the same way, says Harrison, one cannot project one’s modern understandings of “science” and “religion” into the past, because to do so would be similarly anachronistic. And Harrison goes further than this, pointing out that the “manner of [the] emergence” of science and religion as they are now understood … can provide crucial insights into their present relations. In much the same way that we can make sense of certain contemporary international conflicts by attending to the historical processes through which national boundaries were carved out of a geographical territory, so too, with the respective territories of religion and the natural sciences. (Harrison 2015, 3)

In other words, the historical study of the ways in which the concepts of “science” and “religion” came to be understood the way they are today can throw important and valuable light on the way in which they are considered to inter-relate.

Changing meanings of “Religion” Harrison unpacks this idea by charting the changes in meaning of the word religio, from the time of Thomas Aquinas onwards. He notes that this word is used infrequently before the 17th century, and that when used, “it did not refer to discrete sets of belief and practices, but rather to something more like “inner piety”, or “worship”” (Harrison 2015, 8). Thus, for example, the idea of “true or false religion”, found in the early fathers, was “concerned not with belief, but rather worship and whether or not worship is properly directed” (loc. cit.). Harrison notes that Latin has no articles, and that the expression vera religio clearly means rather different things when it is translated as “true religion” and when it is translated as “the true religion”: the former implies a praxis, and the latter a set of (propositional) beliefs. Harrison exemplifies this by the way in which John Calvin’s Institutio Christianae Religionis, which might be rendered as “Institution of Christian Religion”, or even “Institution of Christian Piety”, came to be translated as “The Institutes of the Christian

120

Chapter Seven

Religion” from the early nineteenth century onwards. He observes: “The modern rendering is suggestive of an entity, “the Christian religion”, that is constituted by its propositional contents—“the institutes”. These connotations were completely absent from the original title” (Harrison 2015, 11). Today there is a common understanding of the word “religions” relating to the various faith traditions of the world. Harrison notes that the idea of “religions” in the plural was more or less entirely absent in the Middle Ages: then, with the Reformation, came an understanding of “religions” as what we would now term “denominations”—different confessional varieties of Christianity. This is seen in the tag cuius regio, eius religio, which was coined after the Peace of Augsburg in 1555 to encapsulate the idea that the religion (Catholic or Protestant) of a prince should determine the religion of the territory over which he ruled. As Harrison puts it, this means that “For the first time, “religion” could be understood as a political and legal construct” (2015, 97). And there were soon important ramifications of this, as Harrison explains: The inscribing of these religious boundaries onto the map of Europe, coinciding as it did with the beginning of Western colonial projects, was followed by the creation of what we now call world religions. These came into existence through the projection of the religious fragmentation of Western Christendom onto the rest of the world. In much the same way that religious difference was now a feature of the geography of Europe, an analogous religious differentiation was thought to characterise the whole of the globe. (Harrison 2015, 99)

In support of this observation, Harrison notes the first appearances of the words Buddhism (1801), Hinduism (1829), Taoism (1838) and Confucianism (1862), and concludes that “the precondition for the appearance of these plural “religions” was the emergence of a generic conception of religion, typically understood in terms of beliefs and practices, during the early modern period” (Harrison 2015, 101). As Richard King has pointed out in the case of Hinduism, it is, of course, too simplistic simply to say that oriental religious traditions are purely the construct of Westerners imbued with the rationalist, categorising approach that characterised Enlightenment thinking. Influences within those Eastern traditions, including political and nationalist influences, have had a part to play as well in constructing what we may today refer to as “Hinduism”. Nevertheless, King offers support to Harrison’s approach, maintaining that the “essence” of Hinduism “did not exist (at least in the sense in which Western Orientalists and contemporary Hindu movements have tended to represent it) until it was invented in the nineteenth century” (King 1999, 185).

Is the Dialogue of Science and Theology Self-Defeating?

121

Conceptions of truth The arrival of an understanding that there could be many different religions, not just varieties of ways of interpreting the doctrines of Christianity, in turn (says Harrison) brought into focus questions about the truth of different religions. If religions are defined in propositional terms, then, Harrison makes the point, only some religions—and possibly only one—will be true, while others will be necessarily false. Looking ahead, the possibility of this new kind of conflict presages a potential conflict between religion and science, once both enterprises are understood as systems of practices and beliefs. (Harrison 2015, 103)

Many Western thinkers, assuming the truth of Christianity, sought to use the kinds of logical arguments which were gaining favour as Enlightenment thinking rose to dominance in Western Europe in order to establish this truth against the claims of other religious traditions. They thus embedded in the general Western consciousness not only a particular understanding of religion, but also a particular understanding of how it should best be defended. Moreover, with the rise of natural theology came the understanding of this approach to theology as an inductive science, offering rational support to religious belief; this, in turn, says Harrison, “served to reinforce the modern propositionally driven understanding of religion. On this understanding, “religion” itself was argued to be the product of induction—that is to say, a system of knowledge supported by a particular form of reasoning” (2015, 155). The journey from mediaeval understandings of religio to the modern understanding of religion is therefore a significant one, which radically changed the mediaeval concept and which resulted in an understanding of religion conceived largely in rational terms—an understanding which is still prevalent today. It transpires that the modern concept of science has undergone no less of a transformation from the mediaeval idea of scientia. “[I]n the Middle Ages both notions [i.e. scientia and religio] have a significant interior dimension, and what happens in the early modern period is that the balance between the interior and the exterior begins to tip in favour of the latter” (Harrison 2015, 14). Thus, returning to Aquinas, scientia was similarly conceived by him to be a habit of mind, or inward disposition: an intellectual habit, just as religio was a moral habit. Scientia was about the derivation of truths from first principles, and was a kind of “mental habit that was gradually acquired through the rehearsal of logical demonstrations”: it was “not just a set of ordered propositions, but also a

122

Chapter Seven

mental disposition” (Harrison 2015, 12, 69). All areas of intellectual endeavour in which systematised knowledge was possible were known in the Middle Ages as the “liberal sciences”. The English word “science” followed this practice until the nineteenth century, when, Harrison maintains, ““science” began to refer almost exclusively to the natural and physical sciences” (2015, 14). Harrison shows how modern historians have embedded in the history of science the notion that it is to be contrasted with religion. For example, those who date the origins of science to the ancient Greek thinker Thales of Miletus do so principally because he rejected supernatural (i.e., “religious” in the modern sense) explanations of phenomena. But, as Harrison points out, Thales also “declared that “all things are full of gods”, and on discovering his famous theorem he is said to have sacrificed an ox”: as he drily notes, “these are not the actions of a hard-nosed scientific naturalist” of the kind which these Whiggish accounts of history have assumed Thales to be (2015, 24). To summarise Harrison’s argument: “religion”, in the way in which it is commonly understood today as a system of beliefs and practices, is a construction of the early modern period. In the context of colonial expansion, and the West’s encounter with “world religions”, this understanding subsequently led to questions about which religion is “true”. This in turn led to what Harrison calls “the construction of the neutral epistemic space in which Christianity was “impartially” judged to be the true religion” by rational argument (2015, 191). Into this epistemic space also fitted the nineteenth century construction of “science”, as something with universal applicability; and, as Harrison puts it, “At this juncture in history the West’s sense of the source of its superiority shifted from its religion to its science” (2015, 191). The locus of conflict then shifted from conflict between different religions to conflicts between religion and science, and this “conflict model” was projected back into history to bolster the epistemic claims of science. “The modern idea of religion made it possible for Christianity to claim to be the one true religion. Modern science now claims an analogous universal applicability”, writes Harrison (2015, 192). But, of course, this would not have been possible had religion not claimed such applicability in the first place, thereby creating the epistemic space which science could proceed to usurp.

Responses to Harrison This, then, is the background to the “Harrison Thesis” set out above, that Advocates of constructive dialogue are … unknowingly complicit in the perpetuation of conflict. The Thesis highlights a major problem for the

Is the Dialogue of Science and Theology Self-Defeating?

123

“dialogue” model for the interaction of science and religion, since it maintains that it is not only those who push the “conflict” model who support problematic understandings of science and religion—those who support the idea of dialogue also inadvertently do so as well. How, then, might one respond to this? Is dialogue between science and religion necessarily a self-defeating exercise, as Harrison implies? Here are three possible responses to the “Harrison Thesis”. The first might be to concede Harrison’s point. We might then simply abandon a “dialogue” model of science and religion in favour of an “independence” one (to borrow another of Ian Barbour’s categories): a model which lets science and religion each do their own thing in the modern world as “non-overlapping magisteria” (Gould 1999). This may be superficially tempting. But I would fear that the mutual incomprehension of many of those espousing what we might loosely term “scientific” and “religious” world-views would swiftly become increased, and the already pumped-up and over-heated rhetoric promoted by advocates of the “conflict thesis” could thus only be amplified yet further. A second response might be to use Harrison’s arguments to challenge those advocating “scientific” and “religious” worldviews today. Are they aware of the historical contingencies that have led to the present-day understandings of science and religion? How helpful would it be to recover older understandings of religio and scientia, seeing them both as habits, or ways of thinking—the former in terms of directing worship appropriately and the latter in terms of training ourselves in rigorous thinking, with both alike being aimed at the inculcation of virtue? If these understandings can be recovered, does mutually-enriching dialogue remain a possibility? Perhaps. However, one must acknowledge here the immense institutional difficulties to be overcome. On the one hand there are scientific hierarchies that focus on results (grants acquired and papers published) without paying much attention to the inward disposition of the individual scientific practitioner; and, on the other hand, there are churches which may place major emphasis on the correctness of their own truthclaims, as against those of other churches, or of other religions, or even of science, rather than on the inculcation of holiness. A third response to the Harrison thesis might be to argue for a change in the “rules of engagement” within the space in which dialogue between science and religion is to take place. Wentzel van Huyssteen is, I think, arguing precisely along these lines in his appeal for a postfoundationalist understanding of rationality, and for “transversality” as a means of “moving away from the unity and domination of reason, to the pluralization of human rationality” (van Huyssteen 2006, 18). If a religion

124

Chapter Seven

is about rather more than belief in a particular set of propositions, and participation in a particular set of ritual practices—as I believe it is—then the space within which the dialogue of religion and science currently takes place is unhelpfully self-limiting for the advocates of religion. Harrison’s analysis is, I think, of tremendous value in illuminating how this space has originated, and how advocates of both scientific and religious world-views have become trapped in it. If we can extricate ourselves, whether through following van Huyssteen’s approach or otherwise, a new phase of mutual understanding between science and religion might become possible, with each being seen as a way in which individuals may develop themselves as fully as possible as human beings. The Harrison Thesis challenges us to think carefully about the whole enterprise of attempting a dialogue between science and religion. But in accommodating it, exciting new ways forward for the interaction of these areas of human endeavour will doubtless soon start to emerge. There will, I am sure, still be plenty of important work for a Science and Religion Forum to be undertaking forty years hence.

References Barbour, I. G. 1998. Religion and Science: Historical and Contemporary Issues. London: SCM. —. 2000. When Science meets Religion. London: SPCK. Gould, S. J. 1999. Rocks of Ages: Science and Religion in the Fullness of Life. New York: Ballantyne. Harrison, P. 2015. The Territories of Science and Religion. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. King, R. 1999. “Orientalism and the Modern Myth of “Hinduism””, Numen, 46, 146-185. McGrath, A. E. 1998. The Foundations of Dialogue in Science and Religion. Oxford: Blackwell. Polkinghorne, J. 1995. Serious Talk: Science and Religion in Dialogue. London: SCM. Richardson, W. M. and Wildman, W. J. 1996. Religion and Science: History, Method, Dialogue. London: Routledge. van Huyssteen, J. W. 2006. Alone in the World? Human Uniqueness in Science and Theology. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans.

CHAPTER EIGHT INTEGRATING SCIENCE AND RELIGION EMMANUEL NARTEY

Introduction Nearly all great social theorists of the last two centuries maintained that religion, to use the memorable phrase of Walter Lippmann, could not withstand the “acids of modernity” (1982 [1929]). In A Secular Age (2007), Charles Taylor argued that secularization has made both belief and non-belief unstable and fragile. In this paper, I propose three distinct understandings of secularization: the elimination of religion, the privatization of religion, and the differentiation of religion. I will argue that the third understanding poses the greatest challenge for theists and will consider how far religion can be accommodated within a scientific worldview.

Ways of Understanding Secularization Notwithstanding the fact that the words secularism and secularization can have negative connotations, there is a sense in which we can talk of them in so-called healthy or positive terms, such as the guaranteed freedom of religion from state interference (and vice versa) enshrined in most liberal democratic constitutions. The word secular is etymologically derived from the Latin saeculum for “generation” or “age”. It simply referred to the temporal or worldly as distinguished from the eternal or spiritual. Secular priests were ones who lived in the world rather than the regular clergy, who lived in monasteries or religious communities under a regula, a spiritual rule. Later, secularization referred to the process by which church lands or possessions were appropriated by the worldly powers. One way of understanding secularization is by equating modernity and development with the disappearance of religion. This is a much more

126

Chapter Eight

radical meaning in which secularization is not just a passage from church control to state or private control but rather a passage from belief to unbelief. In this view, religion is perpetually tied to Auguste Comte’s theological stage of animating denizens, not the “positive” or scientific stage that is defined by natural explanations and empirically verifiable evidence. Religion ought to disappear with the advent of the scientific age precisely because science and religion are thought to be intrinsically incompatible. The claim that religion will disappear as a necessary concomitant of the emergence of modernity is fraught with three problems. First, it cannot be gainsaid that most of the thinkers who articulated and vigorously defended it not only believed that it was happening but also thought it must happen, but there is no evidential support for the supposed necessary connection. Second, it is unclear what is meant by the “modern mind” such that religious language and concepts are intrinsically incompatible with it. Religious language and concepts are not intrinsically anti-scientific or nugatory at all. Even if some features of religion or the religious experience appear to be incompatible with certain other pieces of evidence, this does not mean that it is intrinsically anti-scientific. Third, there is an ambiguous leap from treating the “secularization thesis” as something descriptive to regarding it as something normative or prescriptive. There is simply no justification for the normative conclusions derived from the descriptive theory, and there are good reasons for thinking that the implied thesis is untrue. I think the foregoing considerations also apply to the second, more nuanced meaning of becoming secular. In this view, secularization means that modernity will confine religion to the private or personal aspects of life, i.e., “privatize” it. Privatization means that religion will only be a source of personal meaning, character formation, guidance and counselling in interpersonal relationships, inspiration in striving, refuge and consolation in suffering or grief, and hope for individual eschatological survival beyond death. Religion must advance no claim to a role in public life except, perhaps, by fostering private virtue. It is worth noting that this meaning of secularization is confronted with the same problem as that of secularization as the elimination of religion. Privatization of religion is advocated not just as something that is happening, but also as something that ought to be the case, as societies go through the process of modernization. But neither version of the secularization thesis is incontestable. It is worth noting that even though parts of the world appear to have grown dramatically less religious with the advent of modernity, other parts

Integrating Science and Religion

127

have not. Admittedly, some theists in pluralist societies have learned to be circumspect in public displays of their faith. The current situation is undoubtedly a marked departure from the past, where religion was axiomatic and public manifestations of religious songs, prayers and symbols such as crucifixes and Christmas trees were hardly challenged in public places. Controversies surrounding Muslim women who wear headscarves, particularly niqabs, have recently surfaced in France and the United States in the wake of terrorist attacks. The matter became an election issue in Canada in October of 2015, and individuals and nativist movements in much of Europe, America and elsewhere are likely to become more aggressive and loud with their rhetoric in reacting to callous terrorist attacks. Also, many privatizing, pietistic strands of traditional religions now seem to accentuate personal experience and individual soteriology. Notwithstanding these apparent transformations in public religious observance, none of the great world religions—especially Christianity, Judaism, and Islam—have abandoned their claims to a role in public life and political debate. In Latin America, in Eastern Europe, in Asia, in Africa, in the Middle East, and in the United States, it is an indisputable fact that religion has been, for good or ill, an enormous public force, and that seems likely to persist. It is possible that the growing number of the unaffiliated may just be a new religion that impugns the adequacy of the categories of the religious, the secular, and the fashionable myths about warfare between religion and science. If so, then secularization, neither as the disappearance nor as the privatization of religion, is an inevitable consequence of modernization, but only a possible consequence.

Secularization as differentiation A third way of becoming secular is what I will call “secularization as differentiation”. This refers to a series of declarations of autonomy from religion with particular institutions and individuals setting out rules for an area of human endeavour that was independent of the sacred scriptures and ecclesiastical authorities. The privileging of Kantian incarnations of autonomy over heteronomy was evident in the functional differentiations of various sorts of individuals and institutions, including Galileo for science, Adam Smith for economics, and Machiavelli for politics. There is no gainsaying that modernization in the West has invariably involved a functional differentiation and emancipation of different spheres of life from pre-modern religious tutelage. The state, the economy, and science are the leading examples. Pontiffs once claimed ultimate authority

128

Chapter Eight

over kings, who were anointed in quasi-sacramental coronations. Theologians invariably defined the nature of law, wrote moral guidebooks for rulers, and prescribed just prices and wages for craftsmen and merchants. Guilds, in turn, observed religious duties and saintly patronage. The Bible, although not necessarily read literally, wielded authority over every dimension of life. Over time, each of these spheres of activity— state, economy, and science—claimed an autonomy to proceed by its own laws, methods, and authorities apart from sacred scriptures or religious authorities. They would be relatively religiously neutral or faith-free. In varying degrees, other spheres or subdivisions followed suit: education, medicine, art, and even spiritual and moral guidance in the form of modern therapy. It is important to note that there were larger and more ramifying processes at work. Martin Luther’s 95 theses and the Protestant Reformation it generated fragmented church authority. The Scientific Revolution enthroned a Book of Nature alongside the Book of Revelation. As for politics, ambitious monarchs tried to enforce religious uniformity after the Reformation, an effort that bred assassinations, civil violence, and protracted warfare. Eventually it sparked a reaction. Step by step, stateenforced orthodoxy mutated into guarantees of religious tolerance. Philosophers like Hugo Grotius and John Locke developed theories basing the justification of political authority on human reason and natural law rather than on sacred scripture or religious legitimization. This third process of secularization—secularization as differentiation —is inherent to modernity, and it is due to this that it poses the greatest challenge for religious belief. Secularization as differentiation appears to be an incontestable and irreversible process. It is in this third sense that we are all secular. Our numbers, driven by the three great engines of secularization—science, the state, and the market—are sure to grow. Indigenous healers will give way to modern medicine for HIV-positive villagers in developing countries. Catholics may make pilgrimages to shrines or grottos seeking miraculous cures, but they do not go seeking diagnoses. Islam will accommodate modern economic principles of risk and reward just as Christianity did, whether it is considered as “taking interest” or not. Religious leaders will fight a losing battle to prescribe rules for artistic creativity. A variety of ancient cosmologies and creation myths have gradually adjusted to the discoveries of the natural sciences and the cultural challenges of the modern media. This whole process of differentiation has been immensely complicated, lasted centuries, and often involved fierce struggles with religious authorities, not least in the case of Galileo.

Integrating Science and Religion

129

It is hard to deny that secularization as differentiation has come to stay; it seems to be the norm for theists in the public square, even though an overt process of secularization as differentiation is scarcely perceptible. In 2005, John G. Roberts, and then Samuel Alito in 2006, testified at the Senate confirmation hearings on their own nominations to the U.S. Supreme Court. Each nominee testified again and again that he would carry out his duties in the Supreme Court not on the basis of his religion but strictly in terms of the internal demands of American law and Constitutional principles. A number of theists defended this approach and objected to any intimation that the Senators should scrutinize the nominees’ religious beliefs. It seems reasonable to say that like many contemporary theists, Roberts and Alito were presenting themselves as the very models of modern secular people. Were they saying that they live as though God does not matter? No. But they were clearly saying that when it comes to resolving questions of Constitutional law, they were going to proceed as though the texts, authorities, and rituals that ruled and governed their religious lives did not matter, unless these were somehow already incorporated into American constitutional jurisprudence.

Ironies about secularization as differentiation There are two great ironies about the process of secularization as differentiation. One is that in some respects it has been very good for religion. The differentiation or separation of church and state had two results. First, it protected religion from the taint of political entanglements that had discredited churches in some parts of Europe. Second, it created a free market of religious competition that kept religious groups inventive and energetic. In this respect, it seems that liberal democracies can accommodate a gamut of secular as well as religious elements and options. This reinforces the claim that secularization need not entail the elimination or privatization of religion. The other irony is that in some respects the process of secularization as differentiation has been rooted in religion. In A Secular Age, Charles Taylor sees the shift to secularity as consisting in, inter alia, “a move from a society where belief in God is unchallenged and indeed, unproblematic, to one in which it is understood to be one option among others, and frequently not the easiest to embrace” (2007, 3). Taylor traces this process from medieval Christendom through the Reformation and the emergence of what he terms Providential Deism to its culmination in exclusive nonreligious, sometimes anti-religious humanism. According to Charles

130

Chapter Eight

Taylor, the impetus for Reform is central to the process of secularization. Reform had its most manifest expression in the Protestant Reformation. But the impulse was much older and continued in both Catholic and Protestant Europe much later. Reform sought a purer, simpler, more universal and egalitarian Christianity. Taylor does not argue that the titanic shift he describes makes belief impossible, but he believes that secularization has made both belief and non-belief unstable and fragile. This Reform impulse emphasized practical morality and contributed to what Taylor, with Max Weber (1958), terms the “disenchantment of the world”. No longer did humanity feel that it lived in a world of warring good and evil spirits or spiritual forces needing to be propitiated or combated. Front and centre were human moral agents and their responsibilities, no longer the duties of worship or asceticism but primarily those of everyday family, social, and economic well-being. Religion became more internal and individual, less external and communal. The universe became less mysterious. Time became clocklike, measured mechanically by regular units rather than organized around the Angelus bells and holy days of obligation and liturgical seasons. Both nature and politics were increasingly seen as patterned by impersonal laws that could be understood and applied to ameliorate suffering and improve the human condition. Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann have noted that one challenge to this process of secularization is pluralism (Berger and Luckmann 1966, 73). And by pluralism, Berger means the coexistence side by side of different racial, ethnic, and religious groups, with enough civic peace that they interact socially. According to Berger, secularization does not mean that modern people cannot believe, but it does change how they believe. Its multiplication of the sheer number of religious choices surrounding us does not necessarily lead to secular choices but does make it more difficult to attain and maintain certainty. Taylor seems to endorse Berger’s view that pluralism is very much part of today’s challenge. The situation today is “marked by an unheard of pluralism of outlooks, religious and non- and anti-religious … It is harder and harder to find a niche where either belief or unbelief goes without saying” (Berger and Luckmann 1966, 73). But it seems that Berger draws too sharp a line between secularization and pluralism. The world has always had different racial, ethnic, and religious groups, often living in close proximity but hardly coexisting in civic peace and interacting socially. How does it come about that now they do—at least at some times and in some places? It seems that part of the answer is modernity’s

Integrating Science and Religion

131

creation of those relatively faith-free or religion-neutral zones of activity in our civic, cultural, and economic environments. But the pluralism of different religious or non-religious beliefs, different lifestyles, different identities that now jostle side by side, can easily overwhelm or erode the confidence of a theist in hewing to any one commitment. Secularization facilitates an unprecedented pluralism of believing and non-believing alternatives, but having the freedom to choose is valuable. I will now consider how far religion can be accommodated within a scientific worldview.

Accommodating religion within a scientific world-view Since Ian G. Barbour’s fourfold typology of Conflict, Independence, Dialogue, and Integration, various models have been developed and canvassed for relating science and religion. But as John Hedley Brooke (1991) has rightly shown, the relationship between science and religion is a complex and changing one that has been constructed in many different ways, times and cultures. And no single model can lay claim to capturing the complexity of the relation between science and religion. It appears that a reality divided neatly into a dualism of the sacred and the secular, the natural and supernatural, does conflict with secularization as a differentiation of spheres. But there are reasons for thinking that this appearance is misleading. For what secularization as differentiation suggests is that the sacred—the graced—is also operative in those differentiated spheres, no less than in the undifferentiated pre-modern reality where religion tended to permeate everything explicitly. Modern science, economics or politics may have evolved laws and procedures and authorities independent of those that were biblically based or sanctioned by religious authority, but some theists nonetheless see the hand of God in those spheres no less than in the explicitly religious outlook from which they have become differentiated. Pioneers of the Scientific Revolution seem to have captured this idea in their tactical appeal to the Book of Nature as a source of revelation alongside the Bible, the Book of Revelation. In one very important sense, John Roberts and Samuel Alito are quintessential secular men when, as Supreme Court justices, they make themselves answerable to the Constitution and the huge fund of jurisprudence surrounding it rather than, say, to Deuteronomy or Papal encyclicals and all their surrounding fund of scriptural and theological exegesis. But insofar as the differentiation of constitutional law and democratic, limited government from religiously-anointed rule and

132

Chapter Eight

established churches has proved critical to social peace, individual dignity, and human cooperation, it is accurate to say that Roberts and Alito are also acting in their work religiously. Rather than compartmentalizing their lives—religious folks on weekends, constitutional interpreters, or scientists, or entrepreneurs the rest of the week—they exercise their faith in carrying out their secular duties. Just as conflicts between the Book of Nature and Holy Scripture arose in the 17th century, conflicts between religious and secular principles and authorities arise today. The modernity that gave us differentiated spheres of life has not put an end to conflicts among them. These spheres or zones are not discrete and impenetrable territories like separate planets, but something much more dynamic, fluid, overlapping, and intersecting. Some of these spheres are more clearly independent of religious oversight than others. And we should not forget that conflicts arise not just between religion and other spheres but also among all the spheres. Consider, for example, a controversy over a fertility treatment or a research project requiring the destruction of embryonic human life. Is that a medical-scientific issue, a legal issue, a policy issue, a religious issue, or perhaps an economic market issue—if a couple or a pharmaceutical company can pay for it, why not provide it? Of course, it is all of these, but which has ultimate sway and why? In a society that is secular in this sense of differentiated spheres, religion is no longer the default authority, but it has not disappeared as a potential force. In many cases, religion has not abdicated its claim to be the ultimate judgment over ends or means and the meaning of life. Religion can challenge the jurisdiction of other spheres with its own definition of what is at stake in such conflicts. But, unlike in the premodern period, it will just do so as one of several competing contenders. A believing scientist, philosopher, constitutional scholar or financial regulator is not limited to the personal or private recognition that God and grace are at work in all that she does, by “secular” research or constitutional or accounting standards. She is also free, either as an individual citizen or part of a religious community, to make her faith part of the pushing and shoving in the public square, with the recognition that there are other voices and she cannot always win the major cultural wars or social issues of our time. Consciousness, thought, and the whole human dimension—normativity and value—are arguably beyond science. Science does not replace religion, and science cannot explain everything. In fact, science and religion are different, powerful and mutually enriching ways of understanding and explaining the universe and our place in it (McGrath

Integrating Science and Religion

133

2015). This calls for an openness to learning from each other and seeking together, albeit from different perspectives, a more comprehensive, coherent and satisfying picture of reality that is not solely dictated by methodological naturalism. Whenever possible, theists could adopt methodological naturalism and its results while adding a theistic hermeneutics or existential dimension to the findings of modern science, and formulate proposals regarding divine action. Theological conceptions of the human person and sexuality could be informed by insights derived from current psychology and neuroscience, and theists can be open to ways in which the findings of established science might enhance theological discourse. But this does not entail that theological claims and interpretations should be contingent upon the latest science or gaps in our current scientific knowledge, precisely because scientific theories are provisional and the perennially valid truths of revelation are not. In many ways, theological presuppositions have shaped and dictated the way science is done, but theologians ought to eschew the danger of basing their hermeneutics entirely on the current science, given its provisional nature. For, as John Brooke has rightly observed, In sophisticated accounts of the origins of modern atheism it is recognized that, where Christian apologists relied on a science-based natural theology to secure the rationality of belief, their efforts often backfired either by inviting an atheistic response or by depending, damagingly, on obsolescent theories. (Brooke 2010, 119-120).

Since there is no free-floating science, and since science alone cannot provide all the answers to our ultimate questions, science needs to be directed by normative considerations. Religion can provide the ethical standards and caution that science may require on issues pertaining to human life, moral responsibility and human dignity. Finally, theists could explore various ways of integrating methodological naturalism into theology, harmonizing biological and human evolution into the theistic world view and finding a proper place for a theological understanding of reality within our scientific world view, in our natural quest for a rationally satisfying understanding of reality and the human condition. The relationship between science and religion is much more complicated than is often assumed. Exploring the potential of each for enriching our understanding of reality is a more viable way forward than any attempt to sustain a fruitless and discredited warfare model. Notwithstanding the views of secularization theorists, secularization is not inherent to modernity either as the disappearance or as the privatization of religion. But secularization as differentiation is. And precisely because it

134

Chapter Eight

is, it poses the greatest challenge for theists. Perhaps Christian theists are being pressed by the challenges of the secular and beyond toward a deeper, more authentic identity than most of them would have settled for in the centuries of Christianity’s hegemony. Ultimately, what counts is how best both theists and non-theists can mutually enrich and diversify their examined lives in the pursuit of happiness by learning, respecting, and appropriating the enduring religious and secular values of our age as they look to create a just society in an increasingly complex and challenging global environment.

References Barbour, I. G. 2000. When Science Meets Religion. New York: HarperCollins. Berger, P. L. and Luckmann, T. 1966. “Secularism and Pluralism”, International Yearbook for the Sociology of Religion, 73. Brooke, J. H. 1991. Science and Religion: Some Historical Perspectives. New York: Cambridge University Press. —. 2010. “Science and secularization”, in Harrison, P. (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Science and Religion. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Clark, J. K. 2014. Religion and the Sciences of Origins: Historical and Contemporary Discussions. New York: Palgrave MacMillan. Cottingham, J. 2014. Philosophy of Religion: Towards a More Humane Approach. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Graham, G. 1992. “Religion, Secularization and Modernity”, Philosophy, 67 (260), 183-197. Jacobsen, J. and Pellegrini, A. (eds.) 2009. Secularisms. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Jeeves, M. and Brown, W. S. 2009. Neuroscience, Psychology and Religion. West Conshohocken, PA: Templeton Press. Kitcher, P. 2014. Life After Faith: The Case for Secular Humanism. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Lippmann, W. 1982 [1929]. A Preface to Morals. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers. McGrath, A. 2015. The Big Question: Why we can’t stop talking about Science, Faith and God. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Stenmark, M. 2010. “Ways of relating science and religion”, in Harrison, P. (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Science and Religion. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Taylor, C. 2007. A Secular Age. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press.

Integrating Science and Religion

135

Warner, M., van Antwerpen, J. and Calhoun, C. (eds.) 2010. Varieties of Secularism in a Secular Age. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Weber, M. 1958. “Science as a Vocation”, in Gerth, H. H. and Mills, C.W. (eds.), Essays in Sociology. New York: Oxford University Press.

CHAPTER NINE TOWARDS A BOLDER ENGAGEMENT BETWEEN THEOLOGY AND SCIENCE: LEARNING FROM THE EPIPHANY PHILOSOPHERS FRASER WATTS

The Epiphany Philosophers were a group of Cambridge academics and contemplatives, active from the 1950s to the 1980s, working on the relationship between science and religion. I believe that there is much to be learned from them about how to work in this area, and that they deserve to be better known. Their approach to science and religion was distinctive and offers an interesting alternative to much conventional work in science and religion. It is arguable that much work on the interface of science and theology has been timid about both disciplines; the Epiphany Philosophers were bold about both. They were path-breaking and, at their best, intellectually brilliant. Their radical approach to both science and religion is what I believe is needed now to reinvigorate the field. Few have been so willing to question the scientific orthodoxies of the day as the Epiphany Philosophers; their rigorous philosophy gave them the confidence to challenge the metaphysical assumptions that often go unchallenged in conventional science, and to take a serious, rigorous interest in unorthodox areas such as parapsychology. They were more concerned about truth than respectability. The group included people who were, or became, leading figures in physics, biology, linguistics and psychology; and they looked out experts beyond their immediate group when they needed them. They also had a distinctive focus on contemplative religion, which provides an experiential and empirical approach to theology. The contemplative emphasis on experience gives it some similarities to

Towards a Bolder Engagement between Theology and Science

137

science. They were impatient with the Church of England, which they saw as having limited horizons and being unwilling to change, though all were members of it. The report of their inaugural conference says, The discussion … showed the very great difficulty many of the group found in seeing how integrity could be maintained within the Ecclesiastical order of the Church of England …. The so-called “apathy of the laity” is often the exasperated despair of people who feel that they can no longer go on within this system. (Braithwaite and Emmet 1954, iii)

Their story begins with their inaugural conference held in Cambridge in 1951 (Braithwaite and Emmet 1954). In their early years they broadcast quite frequently on the Third Programme. Their most sustained public output was the journal they edited, Theoria to Theory, which ran from 1966 to 1981; and their last output was the Whiteheadian Pardshaw Dialogues (Emmet 1987). The year in which Theoria to Theory was launched, 1966, was a key year for science and religion. It also saw the launch of Zygon, the subject’s longest-running journal, and the publication of Ian Barbour’s Issues in Science and Religion (Barbour 1966), which set the agenda for the field and dominated it for decades. The Epiphany Philosophers offer an alternative to that Barbour mainstream.

Leadership The natural leader of the group was probably Margaret Masterman (1910-86). She had been a pupil of Wittgenstein, and been in the seminar group that resulted in the “Blue Book”. She did not publish much pure philosophy, but she is known for her brilliant paper on “The Nature of a Paradigm”, in which she criticised the many different ways in which Thomas Kuhn uses that concept in the Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Masterman 1965). Rowan Williams acknowledges the influence of her work on language in his Gifford lectures (Williams 2014). Masterman was a scientist as well as a philosopher, and a founding figure in the emerging field of computational linguistics and machine translation. She took a distinctive approach, now recognized as being ahead of her time. For twenty years she led a free-standing research outfit, the Cambridge Language Research Unit, which did important and influential work. Some of her key papers in that field, edited by Yorick Wilks, have been published under the title Language, Cohesion and Form (Masterman 2010). Another key figure was Dorothy Emmet (1904-2000), who founded and for many years led the Philosophy Department at the University of

138

Chapter Nine

Manchester. Dorothy was broad in her philosophical sympathies at a time when that was unfashionable. She led the way in the post-war rehabilitation of metaphysics with her book The Nature of Metaphysical Thinking (Emmet 1945). She also had strong interdisciplinary interests and published several books on the interface of philosophy and social anthropology. One of her PhD pupils at Manchester was Alasdair MacIntyre, with whom she co-edited Sociological Theory and Philosophical Analysis (Emmet and MacIntyre 1970). Whitehead was a significant influence on her, but she was not a narrow or doctrinaire process philosopher. Her output was huge, and she continued to publish regularly into her 90s, including Philosophers and Friends: Reminiscences of Seventy Years in Philosophy (Emmet 1996). She edited Theoria to Theory from start to finish. The third philosopher in the group was Margaret’s husband, Richard Braithwaite (1900-90), Knightsbridge Professor of Moral Philosophy at Cambridge. He had a more distinguished career than his wife but probably regarded her as having the more creative mind. He is best known for Scientific Explanation (Braithwaite 1953) and An Empiricist's View of the Nature of Religious Belief (Braithwaite 1955), which demythologised religious belief. He was never quite on message with the rest of the Epiphany Philosophers about religion, more given to “demythologisation”, but he was a constant presence, both supportive and critical, and attended all their religious activities. No muddled thinking could survive his scathing critique. One hapless visitor who expressed uncritical enthusiasm for Fritjof Capra was soon shot down by Braithwaite. Indeed, meeting the Epiphany Philosophers was like entering a lion’s den, and the unwary and unprepared could limp away badly mauled. Another significant founding figure was Edward (Ted) Bastin (19262011), a physicist and mathematician who collaborated with David Bohm and others on quantum physics (e.g. Bastin 1971), and contributed to the discovery of the combinatorial hierarchy, on which he worked while at Masterman’s Language Research Unit. He also helped found the Alternative Natural Philosophy Association (ANPA), which worked towards a major scientific revolution that it saw as coming in the 21st century. Along with Margaret Masterman, he was one of the natural contemplatives of the group. Though the founding group are now all dead, many of the younger members of the Epiphany Philosophers are still working in a way that is much influenced by them, including Anthony Appiah, Chris and Isabel Clarke, John Dobson, Jim Garrison, Rupert Sheldrake, myself, Jonathan Westphal and Yorick Wilks.

Towards a Bolder Engagement between Theology and Science

139

Contemplative Religion The Epiphany Philosophers’ focus on contemplative religion is unusual in work on science and religion. For one thing it is unusually specific. Much theology in the science and religion dialogue, for example in work on divine action, is based on what might be called “lowest common denominator” theism, and seldom goes beyond rather basic ideas about creation and providence. Compared to that, the Epiphany Philosophers were much more focused in their religious and theological interests, and their particular focus was on contemplative religion and mystical theology. The choice of contemplative religion is significant in the context of the dialogue with science, because it is one of the points at which theology becomes most directly empirical. Contemplative religion is both a tool for personal transformation and a gateway into a different mode of experience in which the spiritual aspects of reality are experienced more directly than is usually the case. It is worth noting that this doesn't need to be formulated in dualist terms, as though there was a spiritual world that was disconnected from the everyday world. It can be understood in terms of greater sensitivity to the spiritual aspect of one world. Contemplative religion is primarily a matter of practice. However, in as far as it is possible for experienced contemplatives to report on what they experience, it is also a mode of enquiry. That makes it analogous to scientific enquiry. There are paths of investigation within alternative or romantic science, such as Goethe’s work on plants, which are actually quite close to contemplative practice. Goethe’s approach to science can be seen as pioneering the use of meditative experience in scientific enquiry, and it is something that Rudolf Steiner tried to develop further in the early twentieth century. Note that this is very different from the way of relating science and religion that arises when natural theology is dominant. Then science becomes a source of data, on the basis of which arguments can be mounted that lead to theological conclusions. With contemplative religion, theology becomes a kind of systematisation of religious experience. Nancey Murphy has suggested that is true of theology generally (Murphy 1990). That does not seem to me to accord well with how much theology is conducted, but it does seem to capture the relationship between mystical theology and contemplative practice. The experiential focus on contemplative religion of the Epiphany Philosophers had far-reaching implications for how they approached work on the interface of science and religion. For one thing, it made psychology, which is in part the scientific study of human experience, an important

140

Chapter Nine

scientific partner, as is reflected in a key role that the psychologists Michael Argyle and Robert Thouless played in their opening conference. It also led them, in Theoria to Theory, to be interested in topics, such as responses to stress, that are not normally part of the science and religion canon. The basic idea was that the scientific study of stress may help in understanding the unusual experiences produced by contemplative practice. The Epiphany Philosophers didn’t just take an intellectual interest in contemplative religion; they practised it. They were more than an academic society; they were also a contemplative Christian community. They took some of their early inspiration from the Community of the Epiphany in Truro. The report of the Epiphany Philosophers’ inaugural conference says that the Truro community’s founder, Bishop George Wilkinson, “had a special sympathy for the problems of those immersed in contemporary intellectual life” (Braithwaite and Emmet 1954, 2). Sister Emily from Truro attended the inaugural conference and gave a paper on forming a common mind in the religious life, and the Epiphany Philosophers took their name from the Community of the Epiphany though, happily, the meaning of Epiphany as “showing forth” was another factor that made it appropriate. The Epiphany Philosophers also had a close association with Sisters of the Society of St Margaret. Their mother-house was in East Grinstead but, for a time, they also had a house in Cambridge, and the Epiphany Philosophers built an ashram at the bottom of their garden. Later, when there was a new Mother Superior, the nuns became less sympathetic to the Epiphany Philosophers and built a dividing wall between the two properties; the new nuns were said to be “the wrong kind of nuns”. The close relationship that the Epiphany Philosophers originally had with the Sisters may have given Iris Murdoch the idea for her novel The Bell (Murdoch 1958), which is about an informal lay community gathered around a Convent. Murdoch was a friend and close colleague of Dorothy Emmet. After the Society of St Margaret had left Cambridge, the Epiphany Philosophers developed links with Turvey Abbey, near Bedford. Nuns were important to the Epiphany Philosophers throughout. The Epiphany Philosophers’ community life together was organised around quarterly residential and quasi-monastic meetings at Burnham Overy Staithe windmill in Norfolk. These Mill meetings were undertaken with high seriousness of purpose and were quite demanding for the participants. For example, they included a “chapter of faults” in which there was examination of offences that had been given by one member of the group to another. Religious offices were an important part of their life

Towards a Bolder Engagement between Theology and Science

141

together; they wore albs and sang plainsong. In their later years, Rowan Williams, then Dean of Clare College, celebrated the Eucharist for them.

Radical Science It is also possible to discern something distinctive in the Epiphany Philosophers’ approach to science. A prominent feature of the mainstream approach to science and religion of recent decades, reflected in the work of founding fathers such as Ian Barbour, Arthur Peacocke and John Polkinghorne, has been an eagerness to accept current scientific orthodoxy as a given, and to work within it. There has been an anxiety to dispel any suspicion of being maverick about science. The Epiphany Philosophers had a less timid approach to current science, and did not hesitate to challenge it where they saw that as justified. They also had no problem with embracing radical approaches to science. It has been widely accepted that scientific theories are not logical deductions from scientific data, something that Karl Popper and others have argued very effectively. Science seems to be shaped as much by metaphysical assumptions as by empirical data, a point that was very much in the philosophical air when Theoria to Theory was launched in 1966. This would be widely accepted by philosophers, but the implications have not always been seen clearly by those doing substantive work on the interface of science and religion. Once it is accepted that scientific theory is shaped by metaphysical assumptions it follows that different background assumptions will often lead to different interpretations of data. Science usually makes naturalistic assumptions that religious people do not make. Indeed, for some, it is part of the actual definition of science that it should be based on naturalistic assumptions. However, that is clearly unconvincing when applied historically. It would mean, for example, that Isaac Newton could not be regarded as a scientist as he was not a philosophical naturalist. The Epiphany Philosophers were sympathetic to the view that naturalistic assumptions, far from being a prerequisite of science, constrained and distorted it; they saw science as unnecessarily constrained by current orthodoxies. That was a general point of principle, and was carried through to every topic they looked at. Their programme was, in effect, to liberate science from unnecessary constraints, and to free it up to become a more genuinely open-minded enquiry. So liberated, they thought it would become more consonant with contemplative religion. At the same time, they thought that contemplative experience could provide an

142

Chapter Nine

additional source of informal data that could usefully feed into scientific theorising. One area of science that was a particular focus of interest from this point of view was biology. At the time of Theoria to Theory, biology was going through a very reductionist period, influenced by the success of biochemistry. Of course, that was not true of all biologists. Brian Goodwin was one notable exception in taking a more holistic, organismal approach (Goodwin 1994), and he contributed to Theoria to Theory. Rupert Sheldrake, then a young member of the Epiphany Philosophers, played a key role in this developing critique of biology, which found expression in his A New Science of Life (1981) and many later books such as The Presence of the Past (1988). The Epiphany Philosophers’ interest in parapsychology developed into Sheldrake’s concept of the “Epiphany Philosophers extended mind” (Sheldrake 2003). I have discussed Sheldrake’s significant contributions to theoretical biology more fully elsewhere (Watts 2011). There was also much discussion of developments in physics, in which Ted Bastin played a key part, and they were influenced by David Bohm’s synthesis of quantum physics and a contemplative worldview. Among the younger generation of Epiphany Philosophers, Chris Clarke has continued the exploration of physics, in relation to areas such as relativity theory (Clarke 1996) and the quantum basis of consciousness (Clarke 2013). Isabel Clarke has continued the psychological focus of the early days of the Epiphany Philosophers, focusing particularly on the relation between psychosis and mysticism (Clarke 2008), and they share an interest in exploring the interface between scientific and contemplative ways of knowing (Clarke 2005). The Epiphany Philosophers were more open to parapsychology than most people working in science and religion, suspecting that its rejection by scientific orthodoxy was not empirically based but a matter of prejudice. The evidence for some aspects of parapsychology is stronger than is often supposed (Eysenck and Sargent 1982), and the problem with parapsychology is not primarily one of empirical support but more one of consistency with currently prevailing assumptions. It is something on which Margaret and Richard disagreed, and there is a hilarious account of an argument about it in Theoria to Theory. Margaret wanted to invite Uri Geller to see if he could bend their spoons. Richard objected on two grounds: first that he didn’t believe in that sort of thing, and secondly that they had Georgian silver. Margaret lambasted him for the incoherence of his position in advancing both objections simultaneously; she would allow him one or the other, but not both.

Towards a Bolder Engagement between Theology and Science

143

I came to the Epiphany Philosophers myself through my interest in Rudolf Steiner and the anthroposophical movement (e.g. Watts 1986), an interest that the Epiphany Philosophers shared. I was introduced to them by Jonathan Westphal, who was Assistant Editor of Theoria to Theory in its later years, and whose work on the philosophy of colour (Westphal 1991) reflects the focus on Goethean science in anthroposophy. The Epiphany Philosophers encouraged me to work on the interface of psychology and religion, and my first work on this was a series of four articles in Theoria to Theory. I later re-used some of that material in The Psychology of Religious Knowing (Watts and Williams 1988). That book contributed to my being appointed Starbridge Lecturer in Theology and Natural Science at Cambridge; moving to Cambridge in 1994 brought me, in turn, into closer contact with the Epiphany Philosophers. I have always shared their commitment to contemplative religion and their openness to radical science.

Evaluation Philosophy was the primary discipline of three of the key people who led the Epiphany Philosophers. Indeed, they may have been the most distinguished set of philosophers to have taken a close, sustained and coordinated interest in science and religion. The role of philosophy was to ensure that everything, in both religion and science, was subject to rigorous scrutiny. All concepts and arguments were subjected to the most searching examination. History and philosophy are often said to be “mediating” disciplines in work on the interface of science and religion. However, for the Epiphany Philosophers that doesn't seem quite right, as it seems to imply that there is no direct connection between science and religion. On the contrary they assumed that contemplation could feed into scientific theorising quite directly; that is what was proclaimed in the title of their journal “Theoria (i.e. contemplation) to Theory”. The covers of the later volumes of Theoria to Theory say that it is concerned with “how imaginative insight can become working theory”. They also considered that there was a close analogy between scientific and theological theorising. Margaret Masterman published an influential series of articles in Theoria to Theory on “Theism as a Scientific Hypothesis” (Masterman 1966/7) that both argue for the relevance of theism to scientific theorising, and draw attention to the formal similarities between scientific theory and Christian doctrine. She illustrated the latter

144

Chapter Nine

point by the similarities between a Boolean lattice and the Christian doctrine of the Trinity. The Epiphany Philosophers were deeply dissatisfied with the state of both science and religion. Often both are treated respectfully, with a view to brokering a convincing harmonisation between them. The Epiphany Philosophers thought both were in need of radical reform, and that each could be used to reform the other. Contemplative religion could be used to inform and emancipate science. Equally, the empirical approach of science could be used to usher in a mode of religious life that was more grounded in actual religious experience, and less constrained by arbitrary doctrine and authority. The long-term significance of the Epiphany Philosophers is that they approached dauntingly difficult questions with courage and cheerful confidence. They argued fiercely, and often seemed eccentric. But their objectives were bolder than any other group of people working on science and religion I have known. Anthony Appiah (2008), writing about them in the New York Times, says that the Epiphany Philosophers were collectively his intellectual mentor in his Cambridge days, and “completely exhilarating”. Their contribution to work on the interface of science and religion deserves to be celebrated.

References Appiah, A. 2008. “The Epiphany Philosophers”, The New York Times Magazine, 21 September. Available at: http://www.nytimes. com/2008/09/21/magazine/21jolley-side.html. Barbour, I. 1966. Issues in Science and Religion. New York: Prentice Hall. Bastin, T. (ed.) 1971. Quantum Theory and Beyond: Essays and Discussions Arising from a Colloquium. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Braithwaite, R. B. 1953. Scientific Explanation: A Study of the Function of Theory, Probability and Law in Science. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. —. 1955. An Empiricist's View of the Nature of Religious Belief. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Braithwaite, R. B. and Emmet, D. M. 1954. Epiphany Philosophers: Conference Report. Privately printed. Clarke, C. 1996. Reality Through the Looking Glass: Science and Awareness in the Postmodern World. Edinburgh: Floris Books.

Towards a Bolder Engagement between Theology and Science

145

—. (ed.) 2005. Ways of Knowing: Science and Mysticism Today. Exeter: Imprint Academic. —. 2013. Knowing, Doing, and Being: New Foundations for Consciousness Studies. Exeter: Imprint Academic. Clarke, I. 2008. Madness, Mystery and the Survival of God. Winchester: O Books. Emmet, D. 1945. The Nature of Metaphysical Thinking. London: Macmillan. —. 1987. “Pardshaw Dialogues: sense awareness and the passage of nature”, Process Studies, 16 (2), 83-145. —. 1996. Philosophers and Friends: Reminiscences of 70 Years in Philosophy. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Emmet, D. and MacIntyre, A. 1970. Sociological Theory and Philosophical Analysis. London: Macmillan. Eysenck, H. J. and Sargent, C. 1982. Explaining the Unexplained: Mysteries of the Paranormal. London: Prion Books. Goodwin, B. 1994. How the Leopard Changed Its Spots: The Evolution of Complexity. New York: Prentice Hall. Masterman, M. 1965. “The Nature of a Paradigm”, in Lakatos, I. and Musgrave, A. (eds.), Criticism and the Growth of Knowledge: Proceedings of the 1965 International Colloquium in the Philosophy of Science, 4. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 59–90. —. 1996/7. “Theism as a scientific hypothesis”, Theoria to Theory, 1(1), 76-87; 1(2), 164-186; 1(3), 232-250; 1(4), 338-353. —. 2010. Language, Cohesion and Form, ed. Wilks, Y. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Murdoch, I. 1958. The Bell. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Murphy, N. 1990. Theology in an Age of Scientific Reasoning. Cornell: Cornell University Press. Sheldrake, R. 1981. A New Science of Life: The Hypothesis of Formative Causation. London: Anthony Blond. —. 1988. The Presence of the Past: Morphic Resonance and the Habits of Nature. London: Collins. —. 2003. The Sense of Being Stared At: And Other Aspects of the Extended Mind. London: Arrow Books. Watts, F. 1986. “The spiritual psychology of Rudolf Steiner”, in Claxton, G. (ed.), Beyond Therapy: The Impact of Eastern Religions on Psychological Theory and Practice. London: Wisdom Publications, 101-122. —. 2011. “Morphic fields and extended mind: An examination of the theoretical concepts of Rupert Sheldrake”, Journal of Consciousness Studies, 18 (11-12), 203-224.

146

Chapter Nine

Watts, F. N. and Williams, M. 1988. The Psychology of Religious Knowing. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Westphal, J. 1991. Colour: a Philosophical Introduction, Second edition. Oxford: Blackwell. Williams, R. 2014. The Edge of Words: God and the Habits of Language. London: Bloomsbury.

CHAPTER TEN SCIENCE AND RELIGION: A FUTURE SOURCE OF ASSISTANCE FOR ECOLOGICAL COMMITMENT? FABIEN REVOL

Introduction Lynn White’s famous accusation of responsibility for the ecological crisis, addressed to Western Christianity (1967), had the effect of an earthquake among Christian thinkers—although not immediately in France. It might be useful to consider how White came to this accusatory conclusion, as there is a link between religious discourses on nature, the image of nature common to a civilization, the way those images shape mentalities, and the behaviour that the human being consequently adopts towards nature, for good or for ill. Ecology is often understood as synonymous with protection of nature. This is a short cut that comes from a process beginning with the knowledge of ecosystemic function, the consciousness of the fragility of ecosystems and the possible negative influence of human activity on their equilibrium. Ecology as a discipline originally stems, of course, from biology: it is the biology of ecosystems. If therefore a religious discourse, aware of White’s criticisms, could engage the ecological crisis, it would provide believers with suitably adapted images of nature. It seems inescapable that the dialogue between science and religion should be used as a means of rigorously shaping such images. Indeed, nowadays religious forms of discourse regarding nature should take into account and rightly interpret those provided by scientific discourse. And as ecology is a scientific discourse, every theology attempting to dialogue with ecology should adopt the methodology of “science and religion”. In order to sustain this claim, I first analyse White’s argument; this will lead our reflection toward three examples of the encounter between

148

Chapter Ten

cosmology and theology which seek to bring forward religious pictures of the world. These will enable us to conclude, with Pope Francis in his recent Encyclical letter, Laudato Si’ (2015), that Christians must be aware of the scientific discourse on ecology in order to live the gospel of creation well, and thus be good wardens of the common home.

Lynn White’s Criticisms Science and religion is an academic field that should be useful to help address ecological crisis, especially by work on images of nature that are built together in dialogue between ecological science and the theology of creation. This insight comes from an analysis of the arguments developed by Lynn White Jr in his 1967 article “The historical roots of our ecologic crisis”. In this text, he does two major things. He accuses western Christianity of being responsible for the current ecological crisis. And he develops an interesting point of view about the mechanism at work, featuring the link between religious discourse and ecological behaviour. In these two statements, there is also some science and religion at work, as we shall see.

1. An accusation addressed to Christianity White contended that Christianity bears the burden of guilt for the ecological crisis because its theological and anthropological doctrines about creation imply wrong behaviours toward nature. He writes, for instance: “Especially in its Western form, Christianity is the most anthropocentric religion the world has seen”; “Christianity made it possible to exploit nature in a mood of indifference to the feelings of natural objects”; “Christianity bears a huge burden of guilt”; “Christianity, in absolute contrast to ancient paganism and Asia's religions (except, perhaps, Zoroastrianism), not only established a dualism of man and nature but also insisted that it is God's will that man exploit nature for his proper ends”; “No new set of basic values has been accepted in our society to displace those of Christianity. Hence we shall continue to have a worsening ecologic crisis until we reject the Christian axiom that nature has no reason for existence save to serve man” (White 1967, 1205, 1205, 1206, 1205, 1207). These claims might be understandable if we assume that White was not speaking of Christian theology, expressing Revelation and its substance, but of a sociological approach to Christian thought and practice in the context of modern society.

Science and Religion

149

Here, science and religion are strongly connected. White speaks of the way Western Christianity received a Cartesian interpretation of Genesis 1, and its consequences in terms of Christianity’s relationship to the natural world. Descartes (2012 [1637]), following Bacon and Galileo, established a new philosophy of science that gave birth to the modern scientific method. In doing so, he gave new representations and images of nature: that of pure quantifiable stuff, only defined by spatial coordinates, movement and quantity. As his philosophy developed alongside a corresponding theology, he provided evidence for the existence of God (Descartes 2013 [1641]) and also for the immortality of the human soul. It was a seductive system for the church as it sought to muster apologetic arguments. We can see that what White really criticized, without recognising it, is a philosophical system connecting philosophy of science with a theology that looks Christian and could sustain Descartes’ project of the building of a science without risking the flames of the anger of the Holy Office, heir of the Inquisition. In his recent encyclical (2015), Pope Francis said something interesting about this picture of nature: This allows us to respond to the charge that Judaeo-Christian thinking, on the basis of the Genesis account which grants man “dominion” over the earth (cf. Gen 1:28), has encouraged the unbridled exploitation of nature by painting him as domineering and destructive by nature. This is not a correct interpretation of the Bible as understood by the Church. Although it is true that we Christians have at times incorrectly interpreted the Scriptures, nowadays we must forcefully reject the notion that our being created in God’s image and given dominion over the earth justifies absolute domination over other creatures. (Laudato Si’ §67)

The pope challenges the Cartesian interpretation of Genesis 1 as something akin to a heresy. Can we theologians do something about it? Can the field of Science and Religion help fix and even change our paradigms about nature?

2. An anthropological scheme Actually, Lynn White gives us the clue. There is a true link between religious discourse and the way we relate to nature. It is true again here because, even though our western world is much secularized, the majority of people on earth believe in a God; and Christianity is still expanding. So what is White’s good idea? “What people do about their ecology depends on what they think about themselves in relation to things around them.

150

Chapter Ten

Human ecology is deeply conditioned by beliefs about our nature and destiny—that is, by religion” (White 1967, 1205). According to White, we have here a deep anthropological setting and mechanisms that seem to be working all over the world. Let us say it in other words. The way we humans relate to nature depends on how we regard it. Our mentalities are informed by images and representations of nature. White says that the biggest source of those pictures is religious discourse about nature. For Christians, the representations of nature can be and are shaped by our theology of nature, nourished by our theology of creation. Aware of that mechanism, in the late 1990s Harvard University gathered hundreds of theologians from all religious traditions in order to let them meet and discuss how they could summon the spiritual resources of their theological traditions to help the fight against ecological crisis. The proceedings of this three year conference are published in a series of volumes, each one devoted to the links between a particular religion and ecology (Chapple 2002; Chapple and Tucker 2000; Foltz, Denny and Baharuddin 2003; Girardot, Miller and Xiaogan 2001; Grim 2001; Hessel and Ruether 2000; Tiroh-Samuelson 2002; Tucker and Berthrong 1998; Tucker and Williams 1997). A digest of the series can been found in Gottlieb (2006).

The links between cosmology and theology of creation This work on pictures of nature must be done according to the way contemporary culture speaks of nature. I mean by this that it is only by means of a dialogue between culture and theology that the right images of nature can be shaped and adequately interpreted from Christian Revelation. This is what Judeo-Christianity actually did throughout its history. Here are three examples on cosmological themes.

1. In the Bible Russell (2011) says that Gen 1 is the fruit of the engagement of the Jewish faith with the Babylonian culture’s discourse on the natural world. The influence of the second on the first is evident, but, we can also see that there are clear distinctions: for instance on the fourth day, luminaries of day and night, the stars, are created; they do not even have a name, but functions are attributed to them which obey and apply God’s order. The conclusion is that the stars are neither God nor of divine nature: one should not worship them. We have here, in the Bible, an example of

Science and Religion

151

dialogue between Babylonian science and Jewish religion that shaped the representation of nature among believers for centuries. As Middle Eastern cosmologies influenced Hebrew reflection on creation and are established at the heart of Scripture, so contemporary cosmology feeds our current reflection on creation.

2. In the Mediaeval Period Russell (2011) goes on to say (like Jean-Michel Maldamé (2011) in France, and also like Ian Barbour (1997) fourteen years before) that mediaeval theologians did this work in their time, especially by using the philosophy of Aristotle, whose philosophy of nature was a science. Actually one of the best examples would be Thomas Aquinas. Especially in his Summa Contra Gentiles, in the volumes about Creation (1992 [1258-1265]) and about Providence (1991 [1258-1265]), we can see how he works theologically according to Aristotle’s physics and astronomy, and using arguments from astrology, in order to think about the role of the stars in the government of creation, as being thus partial delegates of God’s holy Providence. We can see that this approach has been shown to be inaccurate and has been ignored by contemporary theology. It seems inappropriate that this movement should cease while the natural sciences have transformed our cosmological representations. Ian Barbour uses Aquinas’ example to illustrate integration as a way to relate science and religion. This is the way to build a vast and coherent theological and philosophical system (Barbour 1997).

3. The new cosmology Nowadays some authors have met the challenge of bringing the general picture of the universe into dialogue with theology, speaking of “the new cosmology” (see for instance Swimme and Berry 1992). What is it all about? The new cosmology is the integration in one big fresco of the two paradigms of the evolution of the world from the Big Bang, and the evolution of the living world, seeking for continuity between the two evolutions, from atoms to complex and living systems and to human personal and social life. The main figures of this big fresco are to be found among philosophers like Henri Bergson (2001) and Alfred N. Whitehead (1979), and in the spiritual figure of the Jesuit Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (1955). But, to my knowledge, the thinker who reflected most deeply on the new cosmology in an ecological perspective is the American Passionist priest Fr Thomas

152

Chapter Ten

Berry, well known for his proposals in the field of the spirituality of ecology. He wrote a book jointly with the cosmologist Brian Swimme, The Universe Story: From the Primordial Flaring forth to the Ecozoïc Era—a Celebration of the Unfolding of the Cosmos (1992). The title alone gives us a clue to what is meant here: the integration of the history of the universe, such as the interpretation of scientific cosmology and biology gives, with a spiritual approach to ecological commitment. Let us also say that many of Berry’s theological views are taken from Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. Why is it right to do such a task of bringing ecology together with Science and Religion?

A vigorous call in an encyclical I proposed this paper before knowing what topics would be present in the encyclical letter Laudato Si’. I was a bit confused when I found that the Pope had treated the subject I wanted to present. So I can now join Pope Francis in his initiative.

1. A question of truth Actually, in order to be well aware of the challenges of contemporary ecological issues, Christian believers must understand the basics of scientific ecology, and assimilate scientific results from which scenarios concerning the evolution of the biosphere can be inferred. But, deeper than this, there are clues in the text of the encyclical that Pope Francis has a good understanding of Lynn White’s criticisms and comments about the way religious discourse can shape our ecological behaviour. He said in 2015, for instance, “If we want to bring about deep change, we need to realize that certain mindsets really do influence our behaviour” (Laudato Si’ §215). This is to be understood in the context of a previous text (2013) in which he said: “The deposit of the faith is one thing … the way it is expressed is another”. There are times when the faithful, in listening to completely orthodox language, take away something alien to the authentic Gospel of Jesus Christ, because that language is alien to their own way of speaking to and understanding one another. With the holy intent of communicating the truth about God and humanity, we sometimes give them a false god or a human ideal which is not really Christian. In this way, we hold fast to a formulation while failing to convey its substance. (Evangelii Gaudium §41; first line quoting John XXIII 1962)

Science and Religion

153

Pope Francis applies this to what we saw earlier about modern philosophy and the technocratic paradigm. The way Christians embraced the Cartesian interpretation of Genesis 1 was a deformation of the substance of faith. Chapter Two of the encyclical, “The Gospel of Creation” (Laudato Si’ §62 - §100), is a new proposal of what is already present in the Christian deposit of faith, from the Bible to the living tradition, to show how Christians should be the first among humans to take care of our common home. My claim here is that Pope Francis does this building of a theology of creation in dialogue with ecology as a science, as the biology of ecosystems.

2. “Everything is connected” What do we learn about ecology as a science that should be so important to theology? The Pope says it nine times in his text: “Everything is connected” (e.g. Laudato Si’ §16). Ecology as a scientific discipline is interested in what constitutes ecosystems, habitat systems in the etymological meaning of the term. Ecology is the branch of biology that deals with all living beings that live in a place and that interact. The sum of the interactions between the living beings and also between the living and the mineral substrate is an ecosystem. And, conversely, an ecosystem, as a system, shapes living beings into what they are. The paradigm of scientific ecology is the reflection on interactions of interdependence, and on constitutive interactions. An ecological philosophy of nature is thus possible on the basis of this interaction. This was, for example, highlighted by the early environmentalist Aldo Leopold in the United States in 1949, with his concept of “land ethics” (Leopold 1968). From a theological point of view, it seems appropriate to receive this information and reflection on nature in relation to what we have said of human beings for many years. It is partly because he is a relational being that man is said to have been created in God's image. It also joins the stream of personalist philosophies that thinks of the human being as a system of relationships. And, indeed, Christian theology has claimed for two millennia that the God of the Gospel is one God in three persons, united by a communion of relationships. The divine persons are defined by their relationships with each other. Could it be that creation, of which the creatures are in the world under a relationship and interaction status, bear thus the seal of their Creator? The theological tradition is full of examples, found for instance in Saints Augustine (1991 [411]), Bonaventure (2005 [1221-1274]) and Thomas Aquinas (2012 [1274]). God leaves traces of his

154

Chapter Ten

Trinitarian life in creation. Will we recognise them? Especially in the way ecosystems work? At the scale of an ecosystem, even that of the whole planet, the outcome of these networks of interactions is biodiversity, past, present and hopefully future. Without it, life would not be possible, because it is a necessity of its operation to adapt to changing environments and sustain them. Aquinas raised the question of the diversity of created beings (Aquinas 2012 [1274]). For him, the huge number of forms is the expression of one of the most important goals of creation: to reflect the perfection and generosity of God. For, as God is one, infinite, perfect and eternal, he can communicate his perfection to creation only in the state of finitude, imperfection, and most of the time, plurality. Thus, the more forms are present in creation, the more it will as a whole be a reflection of God's perfection. This large number of forms is also the sign of the generosity of the creator who is not stingy with the gift of life he deems good. Pope Francis sees this when he says that a better knowledge of biodiversity leads to a theological interpretation of the manifestation of the glory of God in creation (Laudato Si’ §42). Furthermore the experience of ecology shows how interactions of interdependence configure the existence and life of natural beings. The linking not only allows the existence of interactions in a network, but it brings extra being. And if nature demonstrated creativity by displaying unpredictable novelty, we can say that the interaction is the source of this creativity. Theologically, is it telling us something about how God creates things? The creativity of nature leads us to believe that God sustains and energizes its creation, for example in a process of continuous creation, that is to say an idea of the creative action of God in time. What does it mean for God to create? Theological tradition teaches that creation is a single act that poses in being everything that exists since the divine eternity, from the beginning to the end of the history of the universe. But, according to the majority of the texts of the Bible, creation is also a temporal organization process of the cosmos, as in the tradition of the books of Wisdom. It is also the fact that God brings novelty in the history of nature as he does in that of Israel, as evidenced by the book of Isaiah and the Psalms. Note that this aspect has not escaped the Fathers of the Church such as Clement of Alexandria, or Augustine, who both assert that God did not stop his creative activity at the end of the sixth day, but that thereafter it took another form, particularly through the unfolding of causal reasons in Augustine, also called logoi by Maximus the Confessor (for these examples see Revol 2015). These are just three examples of concepts on which to build, for those theologians interested in ecology.

Science and Religion

155

3. A new triangle: Ecology, Science & Religion, Theology of Creation In short, the methodology of Science and Religion could play a very important role for ecological commitment. Its methodology is the right tool to help theology dialogue with ecology as a science. This dialogue could help Christians express accurately the way they understand God’s work in creation and the place of the human being in this big picture of creation, as well as its mission therein. Those representations of nature are good theological updates in a form that can be useful for Christians to deal justly with their natural environment. Science and Religion methodology would thus play the role of a mediation between ecology and theology of nature and creation, in order to rediscover how caring for creation is not optional for Christians, but belongs to the heart of the Christian faith—to its substance—as is argued by Pope Francis, who sees it as deeply rooted in Biblical Revelation. Then ecological commitment should appear to be natural and obvious to all disciples of Christ, called to be good wardens of the common home.

References Aquinas. 1991 [1258-1265]. Summa Contra Gentiles: Providence, Part II, trans. Anderson, J. F. Paris: University of Notre Dame Press. —. 1992 [1258-1265]. Summa Contra Gentiles: Creation, trans. Anderson, J. F. Paris: University of Notre Dame Press. —. 2012 [1274]. Summa Theologica, Part I, Extended Annotated Edition. Altenmünster: Jazzybee Verlag. Augustine. 1991 [411]. The Works of Saint Augustine, a Translation for the 21st Century: The Trinity, trans. Hill, E. and ed. Rotelle, J. E. New York: New City Press. Barbour, I. 1997. Religion and Science: Historical and Contemporary Issues. New York: Harper. Bergson, H. 2001 [1941]. L’Évolution créatrice. Paris: Coll. Quadrige, PUF. Bonaventure. 2005 [1221-1274]. Works of St. Bonaventure Series, Vol. IX, Breviloquium, trans. and ed. Monti, D.V. New York: Franciscan Institute Publications. Chapple, C. K. (ed.) 2002. Jainism and Ecology: Nonviolence in the Web of Life. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

156

Chapter Ten

Chapple, C. K. and Tucker, M. E. (eds.) 2000. Hinduism and Ecology: The Intersection of Earth, Sky, and Water. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Descartes, R. 2012 [1637]. Discourse on the Method of Rightly Conducting One's Reason and of Seeking Truth in the Sciences. Start Publishing LLC (e-book). —. 2013 [1641]. Meditation on First Philosophy, With Selections from the Objections and Replies, A Latin-English Edition, trans. and ed. Cottingham, J. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Foltz, R. C., Denny, F. M. and Baharuddin, A. (eds.) 2003. Islam and Ecology: A Bestowed Trust. Harvard: Harvard University Press. Francis. 2013. Evangelii Gaudium (Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium of the Holy Father Francis to the Bishops, Clergy, Consecrated Persons and the Lay Faithful on the Proclamation of the Gospel in Today's World), 24 November. Online : Libreria Editrice Vaticana. Available at: http://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/ apost_exhortations/documents/papa-francesco_esortazione-ap_ 20131124_evangelii-gaudium.html. Francis. 2015. Laudato Si’ (Encyclical Letter Laudato Si’ of the Holy Father Francis on Care for our Common Home), 24 May. Online: Libreria Editrice Vaticana. Available at: http://w2.vatican.va/content /francesco/en/encyclicals/documents/papa-francesco_2015 0524_enciclica-laudato-si.html. Girardot, N. J., Miller, J. and Xiaogan, L. (eds.) 2001. Daoism and Ecology: Ways within a Cosmic Landscape. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Gottlieb, R. S. (ed.) 2006. The Oxford Handbook of Religion and Ecology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Grim, J. A. (ed.) 2001. Indigenous Traditions and Ecology: The Interbeing of Cosmology and Community. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Hessel, D. T. and Ruether, R. R. (eds.) 2000. Christianity and Ecology: Seeking the Well-Being of Earth and Humans. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Leopold, A. 1968. A Sand County Almanack, and Sketches Here and There. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Maldamé, J. M. 2011. Création par evolution: Science, philosophie et théologie. Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf. Revol, F. 2015. Le temps de la création. Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf. Ricklefs, R. E. and Miller, G. L. 1999. Ecology. New York: W.H. Freeman.

Science and Religion

157

Russell, R. J. 2011. “Theological Debates Around Evolution”, in Auletta, G., Leclerc, M. and Martinez R. A. (eds.), Biological Evolution: Facts and Theories, A Critical Appraisal 150 Years After “The Origin of Species”, with an Address of Cardinal Levada. Rome: Gregorian & Biblical Press, 645-663. Swimme, B. and Berry, T. 1992. The Universe Story from the Primordial Flaring forth to the Ecozoïc Era—a Celebration of the Unfolding of the Cosmos. New York: Harper. Teilhard de Chardin, P. 1955. Le Phénomène Humain. Paris: Seuil. Tiroh-Samuelson, H. (ed.) 2002. Judaism and Ecology: Created World and Revealed Word. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Tucker, M. E. and Berthrong, J. (eds.) 1998. Confucianism and Ecology: The Interrelation of Heaven, Earth, and Humans. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Tucker, M. E. and Williams, D. R. (eds.) 1997. Buddhism and Ecology: The Interconnection of Dharma and Deeds. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. White, L., Jr. 1967. “The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis”, Science, 155, No. 3767, 1203-1207. Whitehead, A. N. 1979 [1929]. Process and Reality, Second edition. New York: Free Press.

CHAPTER ELEVEN FORTY YEARS OF BIO-THEOLOGY NEIL SPURWAY

The plenary programme of this conference only recognized the interface of theology with biology in a paper by Helen de Cruz which, of all ironies, was the one invited contribution which could not be written up in time for inclusion in this volume. It is more than arguable that a society owing its existence to Arthur Peacocke should have represented this part of the Science-Religion field far more generously—and should have done so chiefly in the more mechanistic/process orientations which were Arthur’s main concern. The case could be presented under at least a dozen subheadings: in this tight overview I shall touch on a biblical seven, and limit myself to two references per lead author.

1. Evolution per se Arthur Peacocke re-emphasized the 19th century recognition that evolution itself demands recognition of God’s immanence within creation. Thus Charles Kingsley, the recipient of one of Darwin’s many advance copies, wrote back: “Now that they have got rid of an interfering God—a master-magician …—they have to choose between the absolute empire of accident and a living immanent, ever-working God” (Kingsley 1859, cited in Darwin 1887). “The absolute empire of accident” is, of course, exactly what Jacques Monod (1972) thinks we inhabit. I invite readers with a different cast of mind to savour Kingsley’s contrary view—that of a “living, immanent, ever-working God”. Can there be a better encapsulation of the position of what (despite respected criticisms of the term) I shall call the Evolutionary Theist? Some thirty years after Kingsley, the Oxford theologian Aubrey Moore proclaimed that: “Darwinism … has conferred upon philosophy and religion an inestimable benefit, by showing us that …. Either God is everywhere present in nature, or He is nowhere” (1891, 73). In the ensuing

Forty Years of Bio-Theology

159

80 or so years many great theologians—especially, in my reading, other Anglicans—took these ideas forward, but they were developed with particular consistency by Arthur Peacocke (2004a [1979] et seq.), who even quoted directly from Moore in the title of one of his later books (2004b). The perspectived position is, surely, that to the Theist evolution implies immanence? However, let me not expect this sweeping assertion to stand without acknowledgement of its theological significance. As pointed out, in the middle of the period under review, by Crawford Knox, the concept of God’s immanence has a 2000-year history: [T]o say that God is immanent within the world is sheer Pantheism, unless the expression is most carefully guarded. The right manner of statement is that the world is in God; it is in God, as Plotinus says, “as a net is in the sea”, contained but not containing …. (Knox 1993, 59)

“Contained but not containing” elegantly encapsulates the Panentheism which Peacocke, along with Philip Clayton, actively adopted (Clayton and Peacocke 2004). However, it is worth noting that the whole Immanentist turn is a counter to the radical separation of God from the world which, according to Knox’s persuasive analysis, began in Western Christianity with Augustine of Hippo. By contrast, a more Eastern, Incarnationalist position is exemplified among current British writers by Christopher Knight (2007).

2. Order, emergence and convergence In the forty years under consideration, Humberto Maturana (Maturana and Varela 1979), Brian Goodwin (1994) and Christian de Duve (1996) have been among a considerable number of scientists arguing that general patterns could be discerned in biological development. These have been largely rejected by the mainstream (notably represented by Stephen J. Gould, e.g. 1996). One whose work has been hard to reject is Stuart Kauffman (1995 et seq.). Using experimental observations mainly of non-living systems, and extensive computer modelling, he has contended that “laws of complexity” in the universe can lead to the emergence of “order for free”. The most interesting systems are those “poised on the edge of chaos”—the condition, most importantly, of life! Arthur Peacocke (2004a [1979], 113-9), Neils-Henrik Gregersen (2003) and Philip Clayton (2004) have also noted the emergence in complex systems of properties unpredictable from the component parts.

160

Chapter Eleven

Some phenomena emerge in this sense within physical systems, but far more—and more challengingly—do so in matter that is alive. A related point, but one of which the interpretation is more debatable, is the occurrence of widespread convergence in evolution. This has been for many years the focus of attention of Simon Conway Morris (2003 et seq.). The question however, remains: Darwin himself foresaw that niches would generally be filled, but does it require a deep drive towards particular patterns to make them be so (Morris 2008)? The divergence of interpretations parallels that concerning fine-tuning of the cosmological constants: these constants undoubtedly fall within the very narrow limits necessary for life, but does that imply an Anthropic Principle (Barrow and Tipler 1986; Drees 2010, 100-102)? More robustly founded is recognition of how biochemical and physiological systems feed influence both backward and forward— “whole-part” or “top-down”, as well as “bottom-up” causation (Noble 2006; Peacocke 2004a [1979], 4-8; Watts 2015). While this does not demand a theological interpretation, it opens the field wide.

3. Divine Action Implicit under both the preceding subheadings is the “how” of God’s action in the world—the “causal joint”, in the telling phrase of Austin Farrer (1966). This was discussed within our 40-year period in many writings of both Arthur Peacocke (e.g. 2004b, 8-21) and John Polkinghorne (e.g. 1989, 5-7), and also in the magisterial series edited by Robert J. Russell and colleagues and published jointly by the Vatican Observatory and the Center for Theology and the Natural Sciences, Berkeley (e.g. Russell et al. 1995, 1998, 2001). For an invaluable overview see also Southgate 2011. The majority of contributors to Robert Russell’s series were inclined to look for the causal joint in the indeterminacy of events at the quantum level, an indeterminacy which is still (following the initial thinking of Werner Heisenberg) considered by the majority of physicists to be fundamental (“ontological”). The scientific problem with this approach is the number of quantum events which would need to occur in very close temporal succession to result in, say, the mutation of a gene, or the activation of a synapse. Polkinghorne, by contrast (though himself a particle physicist), looks to the practical (“epistemological”) unpredictability of chaotic systems as the loci at which the divine hand might act undetected. Both, therefore, are arguments for a “God of the gaps” who will, however, always go unnoticed by us.

Forty Years of Bio-Theology

161

Notwithstanding the weight of these two arguments, and the status of those who have supported them, my own alignment is with Farrer (op. cit.), Drees (1996, 93-106) and Coakley (2012) in their view that the causal joint is not open to human identification. As Coakley says, “God does not compete for space with individual events studied by the scientist” (op. cit., 99).

4. Consciousness The paramount emergent is consciousness. This to my mind should be the bedrock of religious awe. Arguably indeed it embodies the concept of imago dei under another name. Clearly the field of consciousness studies, by philosophers, neuroscientists and workers on artificial intelligence, is far too large to survey broadly here; but Nancey Murphy, Warren Brown, Philip Clayton and Malcolm Jeeves are among science-theologians who have tackled it (Brown, Murphy and Maloney 1998; Clayton 2004; Jeeves 2004; see also Fuller 2014, chapters by Murphy and Chris Frith). In regard to Clayton’s argument, the impressive essay by Sarah Lane Ritchie (Chapter 12 in this book) deserves a wide readership. But will human beings ever understand consciousness per se—as distinct from its substrate mechanisms? Like philosopher Colin McGinn (1997), I confess that I doubt it. Can a telescope see itself?

5. Evolutionary Epistemology For the radical evolutionist, not only our sensory systems and brains, but the concept-forming propensities which those brains possess, are the products of natural selection, honed and filtered entirely by their adaptive advantage within the natural world. The germ of this idea can be found in Darwin’s notebooks, and it was constructively developed by 19th century thinkers as eminent as William James. (Campbell (1974) offers a scholarly historical overview.) More recent thinkers who have grasped this nettle (notably Lorenz 1973, Munz 1993, and Vollmer 1984) have mainly done so under the heading “Evolutionary Epistemology (EE)”. The challenge of EE for theology is impossible to overestimate, for it implies that “at no stage has there been any transfusion of knowledge from the outside, nor of mechanisms of knowing, nor of fundamental certainties” (Campbell 1974). It seems to me (Spurway 2009) that almost the whole edifice of traditional dogma collapses under this critique, for it surely implies that concepts of existence or activity outside of this world are not even false—they’re meaningless. Yet, as Wentzel van Huyssteen

162

Chapter Eleven

put it in his Gifford Lectures, “evolutionary epistemology has been almost totally neglected by contemporary theology”, a blindness which has “reinforced esoteric, disembodied and overly abstract notions of human uniqueness” (van Huyssteen 2006). And not only notions of uniqueness, I would say, but all propositions purporting to offer knowledge of worlds and states of being other than those within which our mental apparatus formed.

6. Evolution of morality Since the 1960s the standard view has been that evolution favours selfishness—though it may sometimes do so in an enlightened way, notably in consonance with game theory (Dawkins 1976; Hamilton 1964; Maynard Smith 1976). But it has more recently been contended that true cooperation and altruism can result from natural selection. Wright (1994), Ridley (1996) and Foster (2009) were among those making early moves in this direction, but Martin Nowak, Sarah Coakley and colleagues, using mathematical models and indicative evidence, have placed such thinking on the surest footing yet (Coakley and Nowak 2013).

7. Suffering in Nature However, as Darwin saw vividly, suffering and death are inescapable consequences of life, embedded in natural selection: Darwin wrote in 1856 “what a book a devil’s chaplain might write on the clumsy, wasteful, blundering, low and horribly cruel works of nature!” (Letter to Joseph Hooker, 1856). Surely this, not evolution as such, is the key challenge of biology to theology/theodicy? (“Cosmic Fall” claims won’t do—there was parasitism among the first cells, predation began in multi-cellular animals with the Cambrian explosion, there have been extinctions throughout the fossil record … and dinosaurs had both TB and arthritis! Suffering is inherent in life—as, of course, is death.) The special challenge of evolution by natural selection is that predation and obvious suffering are necessary mechanisms—suffering is instrumental, as Darwin well knew. “From the war of nature”, he wrote, “from famine and death, the most exalted object which we are capable of conceiving, namely, the production of the higher animals, directly follows” (Darwin Origin, 1859). This realization deeply affected his religious sense, and parasitism caused him particular anguish: “I cannot persuade myself”, he wrote, “that a beneficent and omnipotent God would have designedly created the Ichneumonidae with the express intention of

Forty Years of Bio-Theology

163

their feeding within the living bodies of caterpillars” (Letter to Asa Gray, 1860). Gray’s astute reply was that evolution posed fewer problems than special creation, because it gave a reason for the suffering—as Darwin had himself written in the Origin, it was part of the process which had given rise to human beings. This has been beautifully put by Michael Pollan: Without predation to cull the herd, deer overrun their habitats and starve — all suffer, and not only the deer but the plants they browse and every other species that depends on those plants. In a sense the “good life” for deer, and even their creaturely character … depends on the existence of the wolf. From the point of view of the individual prey animal predation is a horror, but from the point of view of the group—and of the gene pool—it is indispensable. (Pollan 2006, 322-3; cited in Southgate 2008, 6)

Modern bio-theologians, Protestant and Catholic, increasingly embody this recognition in their philosophies of nature. The resulting God-concept must be kenotic, echoing the 3rd century Patripassian “heresy” that God suffered with Christ on the cross. Thus Holmes Rolston’s astringent assessment of “Cruciform Creation”: Biological nature is always giving birth, regenerating, always in travail. Something is always dying and something is always living on …. This whole evolutionary upslope is a calling in which renewed life comes by blasting the old. Life is gathered up in the midst of its throes, a blessed tragedy lived in grace through a besetting storm. … There is a great divine “yes” hidden behind every “no” of crushing nature. God … is the compassionate lure in, with and under all purchasing of life at the cost of sacrifice. … [T]he aura of the cross is cast backward over the whole global story, and it forever outlines the future. … The capacity to suffer through to joy is a supreme emergent and an essence of Christianity. (Rolston 2001, 58-60)

Further, on the god-concept implied, consider John Haught: A coercive deity—one that an immature religiosity often wishes for and that our scientific skeptics almost invariably have in mind when they assert that Darwin has destroyed theism—would not allow for the otherness, autonomy, and self-coherence necessary for the world to be a world unto itself. The image of a vulnerable, defenseless, and humble deity may seem shocking to some, but it is crucial to the primordial Christian sense of the nature of ultimate reality. It is in a god who submits to crucifixion that Christian faith invites us to put the fullness of our trust. (Haught 2000, 41, 47)

164

Chapter Eleven

For perspectived assessments of such viewpoints and their backgrounds, one could not do better than to weigh the balanced, sensitive and highlyinformed accounts of Christopher Southgate (2008), a long-standing and substantial member of this Forum, and his sometime student Bethany Sollereder (2015). Finally, however, as a rider to all such discussions, Ilia Delio contends that the difficulty of mainstream, doctrinal Christianity in embracing humanity’s total involvement in the natural world and natural forces derives from excessive assimilation of Plato and Aristotle by the early church: The marriage of Greek metaphysics to Christianity gave rise to a system of God, humanity and creation that was too neat and orderly to be disrupted. Christian doctrine was inscribed within the framework of a perfect, immutable, hierarchical, and anthropocentric order. Christianity is a religion of personhood rooted in love; at least this was the core message of Jesus. It lost its personality early on when it adopted the Greek notion of soul and the supernaturality of the divine. The human person became a synthesis of parts in which the soul held priority over the body, giving the impression that “Christians do not believe in human progress” …. We set our eyes on another world in hope we could merit entrance into it. But we humans are not transients, renting a home in the cosmos until we can move to a more permanent one. Human life is not extrinsic to cosmic life, a strange species in an otherwise natural world. We are the latest arrivals in an evolutionary universe; we emerge from the whole and are integral to it. (Delio 2013, 13, 115)

*** I conclude, with Theodosius Dobzhansky (1973) that “Nothing in biology makes sense except in the light of evolution”—and nothing in theology should do so either.

References Barrow, J. D. and Tipler, F. S. 1986. The Anthropic Cosmological Principle. Oxford: Clarendon. Brown, W. S., Murphy, N. and Malony, H. N. 1998. Whatever Happened to the Soul? Scientific and Theological Portraits of Human Nature. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress.

Forty Years of Bio-Theology

165

Campbell, D. T. 1974. “Evolutionary Epistemology”, in Schlipp, P. A. (ed.), The Philosophy of Karl Popper. La Salle, IL: Open Court, 413463. Clayton, P. 2004. Mind and Emergence: From Quantum to Chaos. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Clayton, P. and Peacocke, A. R. 2004. In Whom We Live and Move and Have Our Being: Panentheistic Reflections on God’s Presence in a Scientific World. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans. Coakley, S. 2012. “Natural Theology and the Flat-plane Fallacy”, in Robinson, A. (ed.), Darwinism and Natural Theology: Evolving Perspectives. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Coakley, S. and Nowak, M. A. (eds.) 2013. Evolution, Games, and God: The Principle of Cooperation. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Darwin, F. (ed.) 1887. The Life and Letters of Charles Darwin, Vol. 2. London: John Murray. Dawkins, R. 1976. The Selfish Gene. Oxford: Oxford University Press. De Duve, C. J. 1996. Vital Dust: Life as a Cosmic Imperative. New York: Basic Books. Delio, I. 2013. The Unbearable Wholeness of Being: God, Evolution, and The Power of Love. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis. Dobzhansky, T. 1973. “Nothing in Biology Makes Sense Except in the Light of Evolution”, American Biology Teacher, 35, 125–129. Drees, W. B. 1996. Religion, Science & Naturalism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. —. 2010. Religion and Science in Context: A Guide to the Debates. London: Routledge. Farrer, A. 1966. A Science of God? London: Geoffrey Bles. Foster, C. 2009. The Selfless Gene: Living with God and Darwin. London: Hodder & Stoughton. Fuller, M. 2014. The Concept of the Soul: Scientific and Religious Perspectives. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Goodwin, B. 1994. How the Leopard Changed its Spots: The Evolution of Complexity. New York: Scribner. Gould, S. J. 1996. Life’s Grandeur: The Spread of Excellence from Plato to Darwin. London: Jonathan Cape. Gregersen, N. H. 2003. “Complexity”, in Gregersen, N. H. and van Huyssteen, W. (eds.), Encyclopaedia of Science and Theology. New York: Macmillan. Hamilton, W. D. 1964. “The Genetical Theory of Social Behaviour (I & II)”, J. Theoret. Biol., 7, 1-16, 17-32.

166

Chapter Eleven

Haught, J. 2000. God after Darwin: A Theology of Evolution. Boulder, CO: Westview. Jeeves, M. (ed.) 2004. From Cells to Souls—and Beyond: Changing Portraits of Human Nature. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans. Kauffman, S. 1995. At Home in the Universe: The Search for Laws of SelfOrganization and Complexity. New York: Oxford University Press. Knight, C. C. 2007. The God of Nature: Incarnation and Contemporary Science. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress. Knox, C. 1993. Changing Christian Paradigms and Their Implications for Modern Thought. Leiden: Brill. Lorenz, K. 1973. Die Rückseite des Spiegels. Berlin: Piper. (Translated as Behind the Mirror, New York: Harcourt Brace, 1977.) Maturana, H. and Varela, F. 1979. Autopoiesis and Cognition: The Realization of the Living, Boston Studies in the Philosophy of Science. Dordrecht: Reidel. Maynard Smith, J. 1976. “Evolution and the Theory of Games”, Amer. Sci., 64, 41-5. McGinn, C. 1997. “Out of Body, Out of Mind”, in McGinn, C. (ed.), Minds and Bodies: Philosophers and their Ideas. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Monod, J. 1972. Chance and Necessity, trans. Wainwright, A. London: Collins. Moore, A. 1891. “The Christian Doctrine of God”, in Gore, C. (ed.), Lux Mundi, Twelfth edition. London: John Murray. Morris, S. C. 2003. Life’s Solution: Inevitable Humans in a Lonely Universe. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. —. (ed.) 2008. The Deep Structure of Biology: Is Convergence Sufficiently Ubiquitous to Give a Directional Signal? West Conshohocken, PA: Templeton Press. Munz, P. 1993. Philosophical Darwinism. London: Routledge. Noble, D. 2006. The Music of Life: Biology Beyond Genes. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Peacocke, A. 2004a [1979]. Creation and the World of Science. Oxford: Oxford University Press. —. 2004b. Evolution, the Disguised Friend of Faith. West Conshohocken, PA: Templeton Press. Polkinghorne, J. R. 1989. Science and Providence. London: SPCK. Pollan, M. 2006. The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals. New York: Penguin. Ridley, M. 1996. The Origins of Virtue. London: Penguin Books.

Forty Years of Bio-Theology

167

Rolston, H., III. 2001. “Kenosis and Nature”, in Polkinghorne, J. R. (ed.), The Work of Love: Creation as Kenosis. London: SPCK, and Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans. Russell, R. J., Murphy, N. and Peacocke, A. R. (eds.) 1995. Chaos and Complexity: Scientific Perspectives on Divine Action. Vatican City: Vatican Observatory, and Berkeley, CA: Center for Theology and the Natural Sciences. Russell, R. J., Clayton, P., Wegter-McNelly, K. and Polkinghorne, J. (eds.) 2001. Quantum Mechanics: Scientific Perspectives on Divine Action. Vatican City: Vatican Observatory, and Berkeley, CA: Center for Theology and the Natural Sciences. Sollereder, B. 2015. ““The Lions Roar for Prey, Seeking their Food from God”: Divine Action and Evolutionary Suffering”, in Hickman, L. (ed.), Chance or Providence? Religious Perspectives on Divine Action. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Southgate, C. 2008. The Groaning of Creation: God, Evolution, and the Problem of Evil. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press. —. (ed.) 2011. God, Humanity and the Cosmos: A Textbook in Science and Religion, Third edition. London: T&T Clark/Continuum. Spurway, N. 2009. “What Can Evolved Minds Know of God? Reconsidering Theology in the Light of Evolutionary Epistemology”, in Spurway, N. (ed.), Theology, Evolution and the Mind. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. van Huyssteen, W. 2006. Alone in the World: Human Uniqueness in Science and Theology. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans. Vollmer, G. 1984. “Mesocosm and Objective Knowledge”, in Wuketits, F. M. (ed.), Concepts and Approaches in Evolutionary Epistemology. Dordrecht: Reidel. Watts, F. 2015. “Lawfulness, Biological Contextuality and a Theology of Interdependence”, in Spurway, N. (ed.), Laws of Nature, Laws of God? Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Wright, R. 1994. The Moral Animal: Evolutionary Psychology and Everyday Life. New York: Pantheon.

CHAPTER TWELVE EMERGENT CONSCIOUSNESS AND THE (IN?)SUFFICIENCY OF CLASSICAL THEISM FOR SCIENCE AND RELIGION SARAH LANE RITCHIE

Introduction As theologians seek to align their work with contemporary science, many divine action theories have focused on the so-called “causal joint”— the point at which divine intention meets physical mechanisms. In recent years, such theories have turned to emergence—the process by which hierarchical natural systems reach levels of complexity sufficient to produce novel properties. In particular, emergence-based theories of human consciousness have seemed to offer an ontologically “open” space in which God might act without intervening in natural laws. This approach has been comprehensively developed by philosophical theologian Philip Clayton, who argues that “an emergentist theory of mind thus opens up the possibility of a divine influence at the mental or spiritual level that does not require an exception to any natural laws” (Clayton and Knapp 2011, 58). However, causal joint theories identifying possible loci for noninterventionist divine action, such as those involving quantum mechanics, chaos theory, and now emergence,1 have also been critiqued as subtly sophisticated “God of the gaps” approaches (see Saunders 2002). In particular, emergentist theologies are often quite ambiguous when one

1

Particularly noteworthy are the six volumes resulting from the CTNS/Vatican Observatory Joint Program: Scientific Perspectives on Divine Action (CTNS/VO: 1990-2005). Likely the most comprehensive research program of its type to date, this “Divine Action Project” is representative of the myriad attempts to locate special divine action in ontologically “open” areas of the natural world.

Emergent Consciousness and the (In?)sufficiency of Classical Theism

169

moves beyond the vague generalities of metaphor to the concrete mechanisms of physical systems. This critique is levied against not only emergentist theologies, but scientific emergence theories more widely. One notable exception is the work of biological anthropologist Terrence Deacon, which offers what is arguably the most plausible account of exactly how complex entities (including the human mind) could emerge from physical processes. Crucially, Deacon’s account of emergence is an entirely naturalistic one, posing serious challenges to theologies of divine action that understand emergent consciousness as being ontologically distinct from the physical processes on which it relies. If such naturalistic accounts of emergence are correct, then divine action in the emergent mind is as fully interventionist as the parting of the Red Sea (for example).2 Bringing Clayton into conversation with Deacon, it is here suggested that efforts to articulate a scientifically credible, emergence-based theology of divine action in the mind are actually undermined by the very scientific theories of emergence on which they are based. Further, I will use this critique to question whether the challenges consistently faced by non-interventionist theologies of divine action more broadly might not reflect philosophical and theological assumptions that need to be re-evaluated in future science and religion research—namely, those regarding the God-world model.

Emergence Emergence is not itself a single scientific theory, but rather the multidisciplinary awareness that the natural world is ordered hierarchically, with sufficiently complex systems producing emergent phenomena not available to their “lower level” components; the whole is more than the sum of its parts. Emergence theorists must walk a sort of tightrope, balancing a commitment to both the physical processes on which systems are wholly dependent, and to the “something more” that emergent phenomena are thought to exhibit. Though definitions abound, three features of strong emergence3 can be identified. First, emergent phenomena 2

There are (potentially more attractive) ways to conceptualize divine action than the standard “interventionist/non-interventionist” framework, which will be highlighted below. Here, interventionist language is used merely to demonstrate that, in principle, divine action in the mind would be just as natural/physical as the parting of the Red Sea (or any other seemingly “more physical” phenomenon). 3 “Strong”, ontological emergence is dealt with here. Other relatively “weak” emergence theories abound, but as these deal mostly with epistemological emergence (i.e. “emergent” properties are only apparently so, and may be in

170

Chapter Twelve

are unpredictably novel; they are neither expected nor deducible from the components that comprise them. Second, they are irreducible, not sufficiently explained by reductionist analysis of their parts. And finally, emergent phenomena are said to exhibit downward causation; they have causal powers that act upon and change the components of which they are formed. An emergentist might thus posit that consciousness is ultimately unexpected given everything there is to know about the brain, irreducible to the neural networks on which it yet supervenes, and possessed of causal powers to affect the neurons on which it is dependent. Strong emergence, however, faces serious conceptual difficulties. First, there is a sense in which emergence theories capitalize on an argument from ignorance. That is, emergentists are forced to affirm “in principle” unpredictability solely on the basis of current scientific knowledge. Second, in attempting to align themselves with some form of rigorous physicalism, emergentists must subject themselves to the physicalist “causal closure” principle—the naturalistic assertion that every physical event has a physical cause. In other words, if strong emergentists are correct in asserting that consciousness is an emergent, non-physical phenomenon that has effects on the world (and thus is not epiphenomenal), this emergence would necessarily break the physicalist thesis of causal closure—presumably undermining its ostensibly naturalistic status. The third and related critique is that the emergentist assertion of downward causation is paradoxical. Jaegwon Kim has argued at length against the “double counting” often involved in emergence theories. That is, if a complex system (the mind) is fully composed of components (neurons), how can the mind act upon those components except through bottom-up causation (through the neurons themselves)? As Kim puts it, “to think that one can be a serious physicalist and at the same time enjoy the company of things and phenomena that are nonphysical, I believe, is an idle dream” (Kim 2000, 120). It is unclear where, exactly, the “something more” of emergent phenomena could plausibly come into play.

Terrence Deacon’s Emergence Theory These are serious critiques of emergence in general, even apart from any theological implications for divine action. However, recent work by anthropologist Terrence Deacon offers what is arguably the most comprehensive and plausible answer to standard critiques of emergence theories. Though remarkably complex and nearly impossible to summarize, principle reducible to lower-level constituents), they are not relevant for the argument at hand.

Emergent Consciousness and the (In?)sufficiency of Classical Theism

171

it can be stated that in Incomplete Nature: How Mind Emerged From Matter (2012), Deacon essentially tries to show how any intentional or teleological processes (including minds) could emerge from physical processes. Put simply, Deacon does this by emphasizing the role of absence, constraint, and what is not there in efficacious systems, rather than what is. Much like the hole at the centre of a wheel, a system’s ability to do things is tied up in its formal structure and what is missing, rather than a positive exercise of agency. For Deacon, then, consciousness is not material, but is nevertheless explicable in wholly naturalistic terms. As Deacon explains, “such concepts as information, function, purpose, meaning, intention, significance, consciousness, and value are intrinsically defined by their fundamental incompleteness. They exist only in relation to something that they are not” (Deacon 2012, 23). In other words, a system is constrained when it lacks the freedom to do otherwise, and this negative lack of options essentially forces the entity into a positive “result”, as it were. A lower-level example of this might be a snow crystal, which becomes exceedingly complex and ordered as it falls through the atmosphere because of the compounding constraints on where new molecules can “fit”. Of course, there is an enormous gap between the self-organization of snow crystals and the vibrant inner lives of human beings. But the value of Deacon’s work is in the way he breaks down complex phenomena like life and consciousness into discrete hierarchical levels. He begins not from consciousness but from a place of ultimate simplicity, examining what would have been required for anything to perform work or act in seeming opposition to entropy. The main idea is that as simple systems (like sugar dissolving in water, or water falling over a waterfall) come into contact with each other, they constrain each other in compounding ways, leading to self-organizing systems like crystals or whirlpools. When those systems in turn constrain each other, the constraints are compounded and “ratcheted up”, eventually resulting in the first life forms and, ultimately, consciousness. Importantly, Deacon’s approach addresses the key critiques of emergence put forward by Kim and others. He can sidestep the causal closure and double-counting problems precisely because causation itself is seen as a result of formal constraint, rather than additional, “positive” agency. As Zachary Simpson explains, “constraint does not double-count causally, as its form of causation is not efficient, but, rather negative. Limitation constitutes a different form of causal power” (Simpson 2013, 409). By taking seriously the interconnected, systemic, and mutually constraining nature of physical processes, Deacon is thus able to re-

172

Chapter Twelve

conceptualize causation itself and withstand the usual critiques of emergence theories. In regard to the mind, Deacon contextualizes consciousness in a larger emergence narrative. Consciousness is not to be seen as a “one-off”, but rather a continuation of the emergent processes that produced life and other complex systems. In other words, something is missing from our understanding of reality if there is no explanation of the shocking tendency for things to become more ordered, more intricate and complex; it is not just consciousness that seems inexplicable. However, if consciousness is seen as continuous with evolution and the origin of life itself, the “hard problem” is re-conceptualized; consciousness becomes an almost expected result of emergent natural processes. That is, one need not jump from the universe’s initial physical state to human consciousness, but rather recognize that there are innumerable small steps in between. Inter-systemic constraints, over time, compound in such a way that self-sustaining emergent properties result. As Deacon summarizes his approach: Despite its counterintuitive negative framing, this figure/background reversal of the way we conceive of living and mental causality promises to reinstate subjective experience as a legitimate participant in the web of physical causes and effects, and to ultimately reintroduce intentional phenomena back into the natural sciences … Mind didn’t exactly emerge from matter, but from constraints on matter. (Deacon 2012, 538)

The key is that while emergent consciousness is real, it is at the same time completely naturalistic. While space constraints prevent comprehensive analysis (and critique) of Deacon’s impressive work, it is worth highlighting its relevance to the question of divine action and consciousness. Namely, if Deacon is on to something, then consciousness is not a unique phenomenon mysteriously open to divine agency, but an almost expected result of the physically closed, natural processes of emergence. It is this “physicalizing” of consciousness that distinguishes Deacon from Clayton, to whom we now turn.

Philip Clayton’s Emergentist Theology Philip Clayton’s emergentist theology is remarkable for its serious attention to both scientific knowledge and the theological claim that God acts specifically and personally in the world. He certainly accepts “the epistemic priority of contemporary science as a source of justified explanations about the natural world” (Clayton 2004b, 631) and even insists upon a methodological “presumption of naturalism” (Clayton 1997,

Emergent Consciousness and the (In?)sufficiency of Classical Theism

173

171). Nevertheless, Clayton maintains that an intellectually satisfying theory of divine action is plausible, if one focuses the discussion on divine action in the emergent mind. This conclusion that God acts primarily (or even only) in the human mind arises from a specific understanding of emergent consciousness—namely that the human mind has a freedom and causal agency that is distinct from other natural phenomena. Clayton is not a substance dualist and strongly affirms that “there is no absolute dividing line between mind and matter” (Clayton 2008, 58) and, in speaking of human mentality, he argues that if such freedom exists, it has to be understood in terms of a developmental story that includes the role of physical laws, biological drives, and the increasing latitude of behaviour in more complex organisms—features both shared with other animals and distinguishing us from them. (Clayton 2008, 58)

That being said, Clayton is keen to argue for a “qualitative difference” between consciousness and other emergent phenomena. He admits that his theory “presupposes that human thought will not ultimately be explained in terms of physical or biological laws” (Clayton 2008, 226). For Clayton, then, emergent consciousness is an ontologically distinct phenomenon that is under-determined by the physical substrates on which it is yet dependent. Trading heavily on the supposed under-determination of the human mind, Clayton sees divine agency operating on the level of emergent consciousness, which is open to God’s “lure” or influence on an interpersonal level. In order for this picture of divine action to work, Clayton opts to depart from the classical theistic God-world model (necessarily so, in his view) and develop an explicitly Christian panentheism—a view wherein the world exists within God, but God also transcends the world. Clayton’s “panentheistic analogy” (PA) thus becomes: God:world::mind:body. In other words, God is able to influence conscious minds in much the same way as the mind is able to influence the body; “no natural law is broken when you form the (mental) intention to raise your hand …The PA therefore offers the possibility of conceiving divine actions that express divine intentions and agency without breaking natural law” (Clayton 2004a, 83-84). In order for this model to work, this analogy must be strengthened into ontology. Not only is God analogous to the mind, but “Clayton’s account of divine action requires an ontological relationship between human consciousness and God, if there is to be any divine influence whatsoever upon the world” (Simpson 2008, 16). For

174

Chapter Twelve

Clayton, God operates within human minds at the level of ontologically emergent human consciousness as part of the same overall system. Clayton’s emergentist panentheism cannot be fully explored here, but it should be clear that his panentheistic approach to divine action is dependent upon an under-determined emergent consciousness. However, Clayton’s understanding of emergent consciousness differs from that of Deacon. Interestingly, Clayton himself agrees that Deacon “offers the clearest expression of the logic of scientific emergence available today” (Clayton 2008, 71). Clayton also acknowledges the important role of constraint and formal structure in the downward causation exhibited by emergent systems. However, Clayton consistently privileges consciousness as somehow different in kind from other emergent phenomena, as this is crucial for his argument that God acts without interfering in natural laws. Clayton’s departure from Deacon, Simpson argues, “entails the rejection of Deacon’s narrower conception of causation” (Simpson 2013, 414).4 Clayton thus privileges human consciousness in his emergentist theology, but he seems to do so without offering a compelling scientific rationale— and congruence with scientific rationale is exactly what he claims to be pursuing. The crucial point here is that Deacon’s account, arguably the most detailed and comprehensive emergentist framework for consciousness thus far, renders the mind as completely natural. Yes, Deacon argues for the causal agency of emergent phenomena. His anti-reductionist tone, however, should not be taken as an indication that emergent consciousness is anything other than completely natural and explicable in scientific terms. Deacon argues that the mind is real and efficacious, but still continuous with the rest of the natural world—not distinctive in kind. This is in marked contrast to Clayton’s depiction of emergent consciousness as ontologically different in kind from the physical world. And yet, precisely because Clayton embraces the sciences (and particularly scientific theories of emergence), he has committed himself to developing a theology that is at least consistent with the best emergence theories available. Thus (and perhaps ironically), it would appear that Clayton’s commitment to scientific knowledge leads his own view of the emergent mind to be undermined by scientific theories of emergence; the natural mechanisms of Deacon’s emergence theories make any additional divine action redundant. As Clayton’s editor points out, Clayton’s “own picture of the mental may obviate the need for divine influence altogether…referring to 4

Indeed, much of the deflationary argument here has been articulated well by Simpson. The unique emphasis here is on the larger theological implications involved if emergentist divine action is insufficient.

Emergent Consciousness and the (In?)sufficiency of Classical Theism

175

a metaphysical or theistic source of additional causation may be seen as causal overdetermination” (Simpson 2008, 18). In sum, if consciousness is naturally explicable, divine action in the human mind (even the emergent mind) might turn out to be just as interventionist as more allegedly “physical” divine acts that are deemed so unpalatable (even by Clayton himself). Moreover, it is worth emphasizing just how restrictive Clayton’s theology of divine action might be. By effectively limiting divine action to the realm of human consciousness, Clayton significantly constrains divine agency. By the same token, a divine agency that is limited to acting in human consciousness is quite anthropocentric. An approach so strongly emphasizing divine agency in human minds might not do justice to God’s relationship with the whole of creation. If divine action is needful and beneficial for humans, surely the whole of creation would be deserving of the same careful attention and interaction?5 In sum, it is worth questioning whether Clayton’s divine action theology is worth the purchase price, as it were, of a significantly limited role for divine agency, especially if his emergentist approach is on shaky scientific ground anyway.

Suggestions and Challenges to Traditional Presuppositions While my main goal in this paper has been to critique one emergentist theology of divine action in the mind, I do want to use this critique to tentatively suggest fruitful areas of inquiry for divine action theologies. Clayton himself highlights one method—namely, by challenging classical theism and situating his theory within a panentheistic framework; he clearly finds this to be a necessary move if divine action is to be “rescued” from physicalism. But panentheism has been seriously critiqued as a viable God-world model (Drees 1999) and as Michael Dodds concludes, “despite its efforts to tread a middle course … panentheism seems to collapse inevitably into pantheism” (Dodds 2012, 167). The question, it seems, is whether a more traditional theism can incorporate scientific insights (including, but not limited to, emergence) into a more robust theological framework for divine action that is neither limited to consciousness, nor reliant upon unorthodox versions of theism. I suggest that this may be feasible; such an endeavour would likely require significant development in pneumatology or doctrines of God’s immanence, and would likely be situated within a robust theistic 5

For more on the hierarchical and anthropocentric prioritization inherent in emergentist theologies, see Jackelén (2006).

176

Chapter Twelve

naturalism. Such a program would actually be consistent with Clayton’s own work, but would result in a far more comprehensive range of divine action possibilities. While such a theology cannot be fully developed here, it is worth highlighting the presuppositions that need to be re-examined if such a theology is to be possible. Namely, it should be recognized that divine action theologies are entirely dependent on one’s model of the God-world relationship, and that “causal joint” projects presuppose a model in which divine action of the interventionist sort is an aberration, a divine lawbreaking of sorts. That is, the logic behind searching for divine agency in underdetermined aspects of the natural world is that the physical universe is “naturally” self-contained and law-abiding; any divine meddling is thus problematic unless it occurs in ontologically open areas of the natural world. But this line of thought is question-begging; as Alan Padgett explains, “the picture of God and the world which “intervention” evokes … assumes a deistic notion of God and the world” (Padgett 2012, 535). This, however, is a theological and philosophical assumption that is not mandated by science itself. It may well be the case that Clayton is, in a sense, correct: if the traditional interventionist model and language are assumed, panentheism might indeed be the only real option for divine action theologies. If, however, those assumptions are challenged, other theological routes may be viable. Of course, it has become axiomatic in science and religion discussions that God should not intervene in natural laws. But considering that the various causal joint projects have been seriously criticized and perhaps found wanting, it may be worth stepping back and questioning those longheld theological assumptions. As Mark Corner argues, “there is a danger implicit in this notion of “intervention”. It implies that human beings ordinarily inhabit a self-sufficient universe …. If God “intervenes” in the world, that implies that the Deity ordinarily stands apart from it” (Corner 2005, 7). Again, this (perhaps unwitting) implication that the physical world is self-sufficient—that divine action is an aberration against natural processes—is a metaphysical and theological assumption worth challenging. Though science must almost necessarily presuppose a closed physical universe, one can question whether methodological scientific naturalism necessarily implies the metaphysical impossibility of God acting in the natural world. After all, science must necessarily be carried out from within the observable world; it has no tools with which to gain objective perspective on reality as a whole. Perhaps by re-examining metaphysical assumptions about the God-world model, classical theology may turn out to have the resources available (e.g. via pneumatology or

Emergent Consciousness and the (In?)sufficiency of Classical Theism

177

doctrines of divine immanence) to develop an account of divine action that includes God’s interaction with creation at multiple (possibly innumerable) loci in the natural world—not just consciousness.6 In conclusion, the central argument of this paper has been that theological appropriations of emergence are insufficient in light of scientific emergence theories. Bringing Deacon and Clayton into conversation, it was argued that any coherent theology of divine action must take seriously the reality that the natural world, including consciousness, involves intelligible physical processes that might appear to make divine action redundant or interventionist. Not only does Deacon’s work render emergent consciousness completely natural and explicable in physicalist terms, but a theology of divine action that is limited to the human mind may be too weak for Christian theology. Moreover, this analysis of emergentist divine action was used to highlight the need for a re-examination of theological presuppositions regarding the God-world model. Non-interventionist causal joint projects (including Clayton’s) assume a model of God that may be both unnecessary and worth challenging. In particular, a robust theistic naturalism may offer a more philosophically satisfying and theologically sound framework in which to understand divine action. By questioning the metaphysical models implied by interventionist language, classical theism may be shown to be sufficient for an account of God’s action in the world, including in (but not limited to) the emergent human mind.

References Clayton, P. 1997. God and Contemporary Science. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. —. 2004a. “Panentheism in Metaphysical and Scientific Perspective”, in Clayton, P. and Peacocke, A. (eds.), In Whom We Live and Move and Have Our Being. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 73-92. —. 2004b. “Natural Law and Divine Action: The Search for an Expanded Theory of Causation”, Zygon, 39, 615-636. —. 2008. Adventures in the Spirit: God, World, Divine Action, ed. Simpson, Z. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press. 6

For example, theistic naturalists such as Christopher C. Knight seem to be developing such models of the God-world relationship. As Knight explains his approach, “Questions about how God acts “on” the world—as if from outside—are rendered meaningless, since the model rejects the conceptual picture of what the cosmos can do “on its own”” (Knight 2007, 122). This is a robust naturalism that of necessity includes and allows the brute reality of divine presence and activity.

178

Chapter Twelve

Clayton, P. and Knapp, S. 2011. The Predicament of Belief. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Corner, M. 2005. Signs of God: Miracles and Their Interpretation. Basingstoke: Ashgate. Deacon, T. 2012. Incomplete Nature: How Mind Emerged from Matter. New York: Norton. Dodds, M. 2012. Unlocking Divine Action: Contemporary Science and Thomas Aquinas. Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press. Drees, W. 1999. “God and Contemporary Science: Philip Clayton’s Defense of Panentheism”, Zygon, 34, 515-525. Jackelén, A. 2006. “Emergence Everywhere?! Reflections on Philip Clayton’s “Mind and Emergence””, Zygon, 41, 623-632. Kim, J. 2000. Mind in a Physical World: An Essay on the Mind-Body Problem and Mental Causation. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Knight, C. C. 2007. The God of Nature: Incarnation and Contemporary Science. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press. Padgett, A. 2012. “God and Miracle in an Age of Science”, in Stump, J. B. and Padgett, A. (eds.), The Blackwell Companion to Science and Christianity. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-Blackwell, 533-542. Russell, R. J., Murphy, N. and Stoeger, W. R. (eds.) 2008. Scientific Perspectives on Divine Action: Twenty Years of Challenge and Progress. Tucson, AZ: Vatican Observatory Foundation. Saunders, N. 2002. Divine Action and Modern Science. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Simpson, Z. 2008. “Editor’s Introduction: Adventures in Dialogue”, in Clayton, P., Adventures in the Spirit: God, World, Divine Action, ed. Simpson, Z. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1-20. —. 2013. “Emergence and Non-Personal Theology”, Zygon, 48, 405-427.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN “HE WHO DESCENDED IS HIMSELF ALSO HE WHO ASCENDED”: EXPLORING THE IDENTITY OF THE SON OF GOD IN LIGHT OF QUANTUM HOLISM FINLEY LAWSON

The Problem of Reductionism for the Incarnation Modern science has a long history of being associated with reductionism, or the belief that the sum is simply the totality of its parts. Likewise, much discussion of the Incarnation has revolved around understanding how the various parts—human body, human soul, Son of God—come together to form a unified whole that is the Son of God incarnate. However contemporary science, in particular quantum theory, goes against the mainstream scientific grain and embraces to a greater or lesser extent a form of holism. I will argue that the holistic nature of reality posited by dual-aspect quantum theory provides opportunity for developing a new understanding of how the Son of God’s identity may be maintained, from pre-incarnate to incarnate to ascended existence. In opening this dialogue we are able to examine God as a genuine feature of reality, in light of our most fundamental understanding of that reality. Brian Leftow (2011) highlights eight metaphysical models of the incarnation that aim to explain the unity of the divinity and humanity of the Son of God, without descending into either Nestorianism or Docetism.1 What is common to all eight accounts is that they aim to reduce the person 1

Nestorianism was a 5th century contention that the divine and human natures of Christ were so separated from each other that they were “not in contact”. Docetism, by contrast, was a very early view that the human nature and life of Christ were not real, but matters of appearance only. Both positions were adjudged heretical.

180

Chapter Thirteen

of Christ to fundamental parts. This belief in the reducibility of nature to distinct parts is based in a Newtonian or classical understanding of the nature of the world. The fact that this reductionist view is held as a conceptual starting point for exploring the Incarnation assumes, a priori, that the world is so divisible. We have failed so far to radically question this basic assumption of our Christological dialogue, that the world is fundamentally divisible into two distinct substances, mental and material. However, physics has now shown us that our belief that the world was fundamentally divisible into parts is wrong: quantum physics has provided an ontology in which the previously “fundamental” particles (electrons, quarks etc.) are in fact nothing more than patterns of reality, or secondary manifestations. From this quantum standpoint,2 therefore, the fundamental ontology rests not on a dualistic split of two disparate substances, but on something more fundamentally holistic.

Quantum Holism There is a crucial distinction to be made here, in that the picture provided by quantum holism differs significantly from that provided by neutral monism. Whilst neutral monism and dual-aspect theory appear on the surface to posit very similar ontologies (and indeed the divide between the two has become increasingly blurred in recent years) neutral monism can be understood as a “compositional” rather than a “decompositional” theory. Thus, whereas neutral monism posits that the mental and physical are composed of a third, neutral, substance, dual aspect theory requires a fundamental holism in which mental and material are neither reducible to each other nor to a third substance but rather are to be understood as emerging through a break in the holistic symmetry. The holistic reality itself is “perfectly symmetric […] there are no distinctions” (Atmanspacher and Primas 2008, 186): the distinctions arise from appropriate partitioning that produces the relevant patterns. This partitioning is necessary in order to break down the holistic universe into “domains which are amenable to epistemic discourse” (loc. cit.), and these decomposed descriptions are always contextually based. Thus the break in the holistic symmetry is caused not at the ontological but rather at the epistemological level. This means that our existing framework for the incarnation, which describes the world in terms of ontologically distinct primary elements, is no longer 2

It is important to note that there is a marked diversity in the views on the ontological implications of quantum theory. The aim of this paper is not to convince the reader of the correctness of the dual aspect interpretation, but to examine the implications of its ontological commitments.

Exploring the Identity of the Son of God in Light of Quantum Holism

181

correct—we are trying to examine the identity of the Son of God using a framework that only enables us to use binary concepts, when in fact the fundamental ontology is infinitely more divisible than this allows. The idea that the ontological divisions of reality are not as clear cut as our epistemic ones is highlighted in the concept of wave-particle duality. This phrase has long been used to describe the fact that both light and matter (in the form of electrons for example) exemplify both particle-like and wave-like properties and that neither single set of properties is able to fully explain the behaviour. However Hans Primas (2007) argues that we make a fundamental error in referring to this as a duality, because we are once again setting ourselves up to a dichotomous way of thinking. There are in fact infinitely many additional states that electrons can be in that are neither particle-like nor wave-like, and as such, what we should speak of instead is “complementarity”. This is because complementarity refers to something that is much broader than duality: duality implies that the elements or properties being discussed fit into separate and distinct categories, whereas complementarity refers to a holistic framework in which such divisions are not ontologically possible. In principle, what complementarity allows us to do is to refer to different aspects of the same object that are both epistemically accessible, but not at the same time, i.e. “observing one of them in a given empirical context excludes observing the other one in the same context” (Atmanspacher 2012, 103). Complementarity allows us to expand our frame of reference to include descriptions that, if brought in to a dualistic framework, would be contradictory or paradoxical.

Quantum Holism and the Incarnation With the world being formed of a unified, holistic reality, our understanding of the relationship between divine and human, and God incarnate and the Trinity, needs to be re-examined. The divine and human are no longer forced into opposite corners of our ontology with an apparent chasm between the spiritual divine and the material human—we are in fact made of the same fundamental “stuff”. Classically understood in terms of a God-man duality the incarnation is paradoxical, Christ in being both fully human and fully divine is at times both omniscient and full of doubt. One way which this has been traditionally dealt with is through the “Qua- propositions”—Christ is able to be omniscient qua divine and ignorant qua human. The difficulty of this approach of a dualistic understanding of the world is two-fold: firstly the division between human and divine attributes can appear to be somewhat ad hoc,

182

Chapter Thirteen

claiming divinity or humanity depending on what seems appropriate; secondly it makes Christ the Son of God a whole made up of entirely distinct parts, at the obvious peril of bordering too close to Nestorianism. In wave-particle complementarity it is not enough to understand the properties individually: if we do that we lose sight of the true nature of the particle. It is not at one time wave-like and at another time particle-like, but rather our choice of what we are looking for shows it to exhibit one of these two, or indeed other less dichotomous characteristics, even though these characteristics do not define it fully. As Atmanspacher explains, “complementarity thus implies that either the physical or the mental aspect is accessible in a given empirical context, although both of them are necessary for a complete picture” (Atmanspacher 2012, 103). I believe that the same can be said in the case of the Son of God, with respect to his incarnate form; he is not either man-like or god-like3 but instead exhibits whichever characteristics we are looking for at a given time. This is not to say that Christ chooses to hide or reveal his divinity or humanity at will, but rather that the fact that he appears to be wholly divine or wholly human in the instance of a particular act rests in how we choose to contextualize that revelation. Ontologically speaking the incarnate Son of God is never more or less human, but epistemically speaking there are times when we can access one complementary characteristic over and above the other. This rests in the fact that quantum holism posits a reality that is decompositional not compositional. “If we isolate a phenomenon and assign individuality to it, we create an entity which we call a pattern” (Primas 2007, 11-12), and it is to these patterns, not the fundamental building blocks of reality itself, that our distinctions refer. This is not to say that complementarity is to be understood as an analogy for the hypostatic union, but rather that, if we accept dual-aspect ontology, complementarity exemplifies the way in which our understanding of reality needs to be far more nuanced.

The Divisibility of Christ What does this nuanced understanding of reality mean for our Christological understanding? The first issue that needs to be addressed is whether this new ontology leaves room for a Trinitarian understanding of 3

“Man-like” and “god-like” are not used to imply that there was only the appearance of full divinity or full humanity in Christ. Instead they are used in a way analogous to “particle-like” and “wave-like” in quantum physics—the term is quantifying the characteristics displayed rather than the underlying ontological reality of the object being discussed.

Exploring the Identity of the Son of God in Light of Quantum Holism

183

God, or whether it in fact implies a form of Sabellianism.4 It may seem that the discussion of Christ’s humanity and divinity as complementary aspects is too similar to the Sabellian heresy; however quantum holism does not commit us to the indiscernibility of individual objects. Quantum holism challenges the fundamental substance of these objects but not their individuality. Quantum holism commits us to asserting that the Father, Son and Holy Spirit are made of the same fundamental substance, not that they are fundamentally one and the same. Equally, this understanding of the complementary aspects of the Son of God does not imply that He is not fully two natures in one person. What it does mean however is that we need to re-examine how we are to understand both the unity of Christ and the Trinity in light of a non-dualistic reality. In the person of Christ we are not dealing with the union of two separate substances but the union of two different instances of the same substance. This is not to say that humanity is God, but that, as already stated, in light of the non-divisible nature of reality, God the Son and the person of Christ in whom God is incarnate are fundamentally made of the same “stuff”: what differ are the patterns in reality that our compositional stuff makes. The incarnation therefore is not about the Son of God being ultimately divisible into discrete parts—God, human body and human soul—because such divisions are epistemological not ontological: rather it is about understanding how what we know as divine and what we know as human come together in the person of Christ, and what this contextually-based divine-human decomposition means for understanding the humanity of the Son of God. It may well be that with time, and greater understanding of the holistic ontology, we may discover that the nature of Christ’s unity rests in the fact that in His personhood there is no epistemic break in the symmetry. With the emphasis for partitioning resting in epistemic rather than ontological distinctions, there is no reason to assume that Christ’s personhood needs to be “partitioned” in order to be fully human and fully divine. Whilst the exact nature of Christ’s personhood goes beyond this paper’s scope of simply presenting a non-dualistic framework for theological discussion, it does highlight the radical difference between our current Newtonian ontology, and the holistic ontology posited by quantum physics. The fact that this holistic ontology moves away from Christ’s nature(s) being divisible into discrete parts raises the question as to whether it

4

Sebellianism was a 3rd century contention that the three persons of the Trinity were not distinct persons but three modes or aspects of one God, only differentiated in the believer’s perception of God.

184

Chapter Thirteen

ultimately commits us to a eutychianistic5 understanding of Christ. Whilst on the surface it appears that, with an indivisible nature, the most that can be said about Christ is that He was neither fully human nor fully divine, but rather a mixture of humanity and divinity, this is only the “best case” scenario if we are determined to hold on to the dualistic notions of mindbody and divine-human. Holism doesn’t posit that it is not possible for Christ to be fully human and fully divine, but that our distinctions between “human” and “divine” are to be understood as epistemic—such discrete (Boolean) distinctions are necessary for us to make sense of the world, as we have “an innate preference for two-valued logic” (Primas 2007, 12). It may even be that the distinction between divine and human comes down to the fact that we are epistemically limited, in other words we don’t have the capacity for a global holistic understanding, whereas God does. Such a view of the limitation of humanity in relation to divinity would tie into an understanding of the incarnation as a self-limiting act on God’s part: although an exploration of this view is beyond the scope of this paper, it offers interesting opportunities for further discussion.

The Humanity of Christ Another area that cannot be fully explored here but is worth touching upon is how it may be possible for a holistic fundamental ontology to provide insights into why there appears to be a marked distinction in Christ’s “humanity” pre- and post-resurrection. Post-Resurrection Christ certainly appears to be more ephemeral and able to do typically nonphysical things (such as passing through doors) in a way that he arguably didn’t pre-resurrection. This change would appear to point towards there being a greater distinction between mental and material (or divine and human) than a mere difference in their “domains of discourse”. However there are two points to be made in response to this critique. The first, although seemingly trivial, is actually quite pertinent, and that is to question why Jesus’ post-resurrection acts such as walking through doors are “more” non-physical than any of His pre-resurrection miracles such as walking on water. The second point, which is more pertinent to the content of this paper, is that to view Christ’s post-resurrection self as less physical simply highlights how deeply entrenched dualism is in our way of understanding the world. The holistic ontology posited by dual-aspect theory states that this divide between mental and material does not exist at the ontological level, so the question becomes why is it, if we are made of 5

Eutychianism stressed the unity of Christ's nature to such an extent that his divinity consumed his humanity “as the ocean consumes a drop of vinegar”.

Exploring the Identity of the Son of God in Light of Quantum Holism

185

the same “stuff” as Christ, that we are unable to walk through doors? Although this goes beyond the boundaries of this work, my initial response is to return to Primas’ statement that a pattern is a phenomenon we have isolated and given individuality, and to raise the possibility that the appearance of such diversity is down to the arrangement of these individual patterns of reality. We have certainly isolated Christ and given him individuality above and beyond that of humans and prophets; perhaps it is this that plays a role in our perception of a greater lack of physicality post-resurrection. For God to become man and walk among us therefore does not require Him to move from one type of matter to another. We do not run up against the issues associated with a materialist model of the incarnation, such as how Christ incarnate or ascended can maintain memories from his preexistence or incarnation. Instead, the problems of the identity of the Son of God become related to how He becomes wholly present in the person of Christ. This is not merely an epistemic claim that we are able to understand God through Christ, but an ontological claim about the actual presence of the second person of the Trinity within a time and place in history. We are no longer trying to overcome the issue of the divine ghost in the human machine but instead to understand how the decomposition of the unified whole both in Christ and the Trinity allows for these identities to be separate, yet united in a meaningful way. It is important to note that the removal of the ontological gulf between divine and human still allows for an epistemic gap between us and God. It still leaves us free to choose to believe in a “hidden” God, and in doing so it doesn’t compromise the act of faith itself. However, it does require us to shift our focus in how we understand the identity of the Son of God over time, and in doing so impacts our wider understanding of Trinitarian and divine-human relations.

A New Framework for Incarnational Theology The new framework then is based on a fundamentally indivisible reality that allows us to acknowledge that all that is in principle knowable is not necessarily knowable simultaneously. Thus we are able to know the divinity and humanity of Christ but if we try to understand the divinity within the framework of His humanity, or vice versa, the picture we arrive at is paradoxical. If, however, we are able to broaden our epistemic framework beyond the classical dualistic picture we are able to overcome the paradox by understanding divinity and humanity as complementary concepts. Whilst the potential for many different, complementary,

186

Chapter Thirteen

distinctions may create as many problems as it solves, if one were able to view the totality of descriptions this would provide a complementary picture of the whole. This would appear to echo the work of Alister McGrath and others, such as Mary Midgley, who talk of the need for combining many tool boxes or narratives in order to describe the situation in its entirety. How these patterns of reality combine to form us, our thoughts, our God, is outside the scope of this paper, but I propose that this is where we need to focus our theological discourse in the future. Our understanding of the Son of God being fundamentally divisible into distinct but “intermingled” parts is based on our epistemic limitations not on a priori truths. We may need to acknowledge that these limitations cause us to understand the world in terms of a locally dualistic ontology, but if this is the case we must also understand that our knowledge is not of the global (holistic) ontology; i.e., we may find that we are only able to talk of Christ in these dualistic terms, but if this is the case we must recognize that this language is not referring to an ontological distinction but to an epistemic or possibly even a semantic one. Any division by us of the world into parts must take place within an understanding that there will be phenomena that are not explicable in terms of local dualistic descriptions, and thus we need to examine the Incarnation in terms of global holism not the local, dualistic distinctions between the material (body) and the ephemeral (mind/Son of God).

References Atmanspacher, H. 2011. “Quantum Approaches to Consciousness”, in Zalta, E. N. (ed.), The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Summer 2011. Available at: http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2011/ entries/qt-consciousness/ [accessed 1 January 2015]. —. 2012. “Dual-Aspect Monism a la Pauli and Jung”, Journal of Consciousness Studies, 19, 96–120. Atmanspacher, H. and Primas, H. (eds.) 2008. Recasting Reality: Wolfgang Pauli’s Philosophical Ideas and Contemporary Science. Berlin: Springer. Leftow, B. 2011. “The Humanity of God”, in Marmodoro, A. and Hill, J. (eds.), The Metaphysics of the Incarnation. Oxford: Oxford University Press (eBook), 20–44. Primas, H. 2003. “Time-Entanglement Between Mind and Matter”, Mind and Matter, 1, 81–119. —. 2007. “Non-Boolean Descriptions for Mind-Matter Problems”, Mind and Matter, 5, 7–44.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN SCIENCE AND RELIGION IN SCHOOLS: LOOKING FORWARD AND LOOKING BACK ADRIAN BROWN

In 1994 I spoke to the Science and Religion Forum under the title “Science and Religion at the chalk face: where it all goes wrong in schools”. As part of the presentation I listed twelve areas of concern. It is interesting to look back on them after more than twenty years. Of the things in schools1 that inhibited the successful handling of science and religious issues, only two can be said to have significantly improved over these two decades. The first is the massive amount of material produced to enable students to explore questions relating to science and religion. The second is the emergence of Concept Cracking, an alternative paradigm for the teaching of Religious Studies which has broken the hegemony of the hitherto dominant phenomenological approach. This has allowed space for dealing with conceptual matters. In schools, not least with the demise of General Studies and the like, Religious Studies has become the primary natural home for these explorations, along with some less widely studied Philosophy courses. The relative growth in importance and popularity of Religious Studies has embraced science and religion questions, Goveian damage to RS notwithstanding.2 There are unresolved and ongoing areas of concern which have not seen much progress. Teacher stress is undiminished; early specialization militates against cross-curricular themes; there is a cultural resistance to topics deemed to be “less useful”; work that is not focused on examinations 1

My focus is primarily on state education. Private schools arguably have more freedom to explore these issues and are less constrained by the imposed expectations issuing from central government. 2 During the tenure of Michael Gove as Education Secretary many RS courses were lost and fewer specialist teachers trained, largely due to the privileging of other subjects in the curriculum as a result of the European Baccalaureate.

188

Chapter Fourteen

is widely seen by parents, teachers and pupils as having low status; teams of staff in a department are not all comfortable with this topic and the quality of delivery suffers accordingly; teachers have little time or energy to read and keep up with the latest work; expertise in matters of science and religion is lacking; fundamentally science is hard and religion is demanding—needless to say, the interface is intimidating.

Leaders in the field A significant figure in the advancement of science and religion in schools has been Michael Poole, a distinguished member and one-time Chair of the Science and Religion Forum (see Chapter 16 herein). He first published A Guide to Science and Belief in 1990 and the latest edition is still available. The Farmington Trust in Oxford supported this pioneering work and have continued to be interested in the field. It was the vision of the Stapleford Centre to invite Mike Poole to be a core writer in what became God Talk, Science Talk, a teacher’s guide for the topic (Brown, Hookway and Poole 1997).3 This was the first significant attempt to equip staff with an understanding of key themes and the material to enable them to work through them with secondary students. Extensive trialling and refining of the material in real schools ensured that the finished product was something that did indeed work! The careful direction of Trevor Cooling ensured that attention was paid to differentiation of material to meet the needs of teachers and students through Key Stages 3, 4 and 5. The book was widely praised and its implementation as a term-long program of study with the whole of year 8 at the Ecclesbourne School was a major reason for the first Templeton Award for Science and Religion in Schools being awarded to that school in 2001. This was also the year when Arthur Peacocke, the founding figure behind the Science and Religion Forum, was awarded the Templeton Prize at the Guildhall in London. Also present was Russell Stannard. It was clear even then that Stannard had already made a massive contribution to both science education via his books for children on physics and, with Here I Am (1992), one of the best introductions to thinking about God that I know. He has produced some fine material on the interface since then, notably Science and Belief: The Big Issues (2012)4 with its helpful video material and print resources developed with RE Today. The latter 3

Under the auspices of Stapleford, Hookway later wrote a volume in the REthinking series (Hookway 2007). 4 Available at http://www.retoday.org.uk/resources/23/read/160.

Science and Religion in Schools: Looking Forward and Looking Back

189

organisation has ensured that the topic has coverage in its regular magazines, REtoday and REsource, as well as in stand-alone volumes that teachers have used and valued, such as Rivett (2003), which seeks to exemplify issues through Christianity, Islam, Hinduism and Humanism. The Farmington Institute was mentioned earlier and is based at Harris Manchester College in Oxford, where a fellow of the college, Alister McGrath (cf. Chapter One in this volume) is the current Andreas Idreos Professor of Science and Religion. The Institute has for over two decades provided term-long residential fellowships for teachers of Religious Studies, enabling them to work on topics of interest away from the demands of school. In providing funds to cover their absence, a unique opportunity has been afforded to many hundreds of teachers, some of whom have made distinguished contributions to Religious Studies. Although very few pieces of research have embraced science and religion matters, a notable DVD (Philosophy, Science and the God Debate, 2011) was produced by Chris Jervis who interviewed McGrath, John Lennox and Keith Ward about core aspects of the relationship between science and faith. The then director of Farmington, Martin Rogers, secured a substantial grant from the Templeton Foundation to fund the production of what became two volumes entitled Science and Religion in Schools,6 one for Secondary Schools and one for Primary Schools. Both included material on CD ROMS. The co-director of the project was our Forum’s President John Hedley Brooke (cf. Chapter Seventeen in this volume). As significant as the final material was, it proved to be a difficult and ambitious attempt to get a massive team of almost thirty writers and editors to cover a comprehensive range of issues in the field. With varying degrees of success, much was done and much learned about just how tough a challenge these topics are! Latterly, much of the material has been relocated online at the Faraday Institute for Science and Religion,7 based at St. Edmund’s College, Cambridge. In addition, Faraday has developed its own resources, both print and audio-visual, and has a list of speakers and runs events for schools. It has a genuine interest in research and an interest in the field at every level of education. It was a privilege to be part of the team assembled as one of the final writing projects of the Stapleford Centre to

6

See www.srsp.net. www.faraday.st-edmunds.cam.ac.uk, with school-focused material on www. faradayschools.com. 7

190

Chapter Fourteen

put together the teachers’ guide that accompanies their Test of Faith8 resource for schools. We have come a long way since the early 1990s!

Pervasive problems But there is always more to be done. One has a sense that the “field” of “science and religion” is understood, but as yet there are few dedicated units in Higher Education. In schools it is no better. By and large teachers and pupils operate in the same defined subject areas they always have. There is little conversation between disciplines and little explicit awareness of the changing landscape of our world and the imminent challenges of the next few decades. To these I now turn. Sitting in the airport at Geneva, at the close of the first joint CERNand Wilton Park-sponsored conference, I began to muse further on the range of problems that had arisen in gathering together eminent physicists, philosophers and theologians to talk about The Big Bang and the Interfaces of Knowledge.9 What were clear were the huge gulfs in understanding, and the lack of a common language at all levels. Interest groups in the human enterprise are now so many, and the growth of knowledge so rapid, that the days of the Renaissance man or woman are long gone. Within any one science or humanity, few are conversant with more than a small portion of what is known, to the extent that it is difficult to understand other sub-specialisms. More difficult still are conversations within one of C.P. Snow’s “Two Cultures”, e.g. between biologists and physicists. With Snow’s theme firmly in mind, the conversations between the arts and sciences seem more difficult than ever. Add to that the gulf between expert and lay members of all of these communities and the space for misunderstanding and misinterpretation is massive. No wonder the media get it so wrong so often! An additional observation is that few practitioners of a given discipline have had a deep exposure to ways of looking at their subject area from other perspectives. So the history of, sociology of, philosophy of, and ethics of a given domain are often not considered by those working within it. When these contextual, broadening insights are missing from those who teach a subject, the unintended consequence is a narrow understanding of what is going on. As one who had read the History and Philosophy of Science at university, I vividly 8

Test of Faith resources can be found at www.testoffaith.com. This is the title of the conference, the subsequent report and the e-book which I produced as the official rapporteur for the meeting. The former is available from www.wiltonpark.org.uk/conference/wp1180/ and the latter, with diagrams and video interviews included, is downloadable (free) from iTunes. 9

Science and Religion in Schools: Looking Forward and Looking Back

191

remember having my interesting stuff excised, from a unit of work I wrote for year 9 physics students, by a head of department who on every other measure was an outstanding colleague. But biographical asides were not deemed necessary in the 1970s. Little has changed in science education, despite the instincts of many teachers that it is precisely this kind of stuff that helps make a subject live for pupils. The default impression is that science is not the work of human beings but somehow a pure and unsullied activity conducted by exalted beings who have a monopoly on the formula “it has been scientifically proved”—if I may paraphrase the sociologist Anthony Standen (1958). Children have distressingly little time and opportunity to reflect on what they are learning. Indeed, many argue that children have never been so programmed to learn how to pass examinations, at the expense of a more general education, than they currently are. Their apprenticeship is seriously lacking in self-examination and approaches study in what is often a slavishly instrumental and uncritical manner. I think it is possible to frame some of this in terms of what I want to call “Epistemological Sensibilities”. Wary of the risk of caricature, let me suggest that one of the typical differences between the self-understanding of science studies and religious studies in school is in regard to their epistemological commitments. Most science teachers, if only they knew it, are critical realists in their approach to the sort of knowledge they believe that science delivers. There is a tacit belief in what might be termed “true truth”. The givenness of the world is the final arbiter on what counts as knowable and known. Scientific theories are tested against the non-negotiable real, external world, more or less. Those who operate in the world of religious studies are mindful of claims made by people and groups of all faiths and none, that their worldviews are also constrained in some measure by a Reality beyond our subjectivity. But—and this is key—many are more concerned with the utility of religion than with its veracity. Respect for the other is central to the pedagogy of the subject, and perhaps unwittingly there is a tendency to bracket off concerns about “The Truth” in order to foster listening and dialogue that is not primarily concerned with establishing any concept of right or wrong belief. Tolerance is the watchword, even when it risks distorting the actual concerns of committed religious believers by underplaying truth claims, many of which are irreconcilable between communities. Orthopraxis is fine; orthodoxy smacks of some sort of claim to be a superior player in the marketplace of views. Thus we might suggest that relativism, despite its problems, is the default epistemological stance

192

Chapter Fourteen

for many, and that truth questions are reduced to issues of usefulness—to me, to us and possibly to others too. So where is a typical student situated in all of this? My experience suggests that students are very adept at compartmentalizing their encounters, to the point where they are often resistant to engaging in conversations that cross disciplinary boundaries. Students are very happy to buy into the narrative of science, not least because it seems to be able to deliver the technologies that mediate their encounters with the world –and increasingly with others within it, both real and virtual. At the same time they have an interest in something which increasingly goes under the shorthand umbrella term of “spirituality” rather than religion. And spirituality is very “me”, a consumer option to add to my lifestyle rather than a disciplined belonging to a community of believers in a tradition that has been tried, tested and institutionalized.

The Vital Need for Integration I would suggest that there is little attempt here to integrate all of this. On the one hand there is a theory of knowing that is essentially modernist, often in a positivistic guise, but not articulated clearly. On the other hand young people are deeply and unquestioningly postmodern. They live on the surface, uninterested in the past and what it can teach us, suspicious of authority and content to live in a narcissistic present, keen to do enough to have the buying power to participate in the consumer culture in which they find themselves. Behind and beyond all of this is what I have termed the “Global Livability Question”. How should we live in a world which ultimately will not allow us to be self-interested, without challenging the assumptions embedded in our neo-liberal capitalist world? I was interested to note the well-argued plea, from the retired Head Master of Eton, for an imaginative engagement across disciplinary boundaries. Rather than STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Maths) he would advocate the need for STEAM, incorporating the Arts. He writes that “in school terms this means exploring the relationship between established silos of knowledge” (Little 2015, 126). This is no doubt easier in the Private School sector, but it is not impossible elsewhere, given vision and suitable staff who can domain surf, plus a little curriculum time. A major part of my short book on education, Changing the Climate (2015), is an argument for the need to respond to the challenges of climate change in terms of cross-curricular work that embeds issues of sustainability, justice, care for the poor of the planet, and discovering an alternative way of living that is not destructive of our collective

Science and Religion in Schools: Looking Forward and Looking Back

193

194

Chapter Fourteen

futures. In all of this we desperately need the best that science can offer us, allied to the wisdom, often found in religious traditions, to inform our choices about what to prioritize for the common good of our global neighbours, both in the immediate and the long-term future. In conclusion, therefore, I want to suggest a few of the future trajectories in the science and religion conversation which will need to be unpacked and implemented in our education systems. The overarching notion of relationships is key to all of it. We are variously related to the Divine, other persons, other living things, the planet itself and, critically, to ourselves. This latter is often the most problematic, but unless we learn to love ourselves healthily and appropriately we will find it hard to love others. Thus I would argue that core to good education are the goals of paeidia and eudaimonia. We need to develop self-knowledge and selfmastery in order to be able to flourish in the world. Cooperation is going to be more important than competition. Altruism is needed more than selfishness. Healthy relationships have always marked the best communities, and schools are no exception. Focus on these and the results will take care of themselves (with a bit of hard work and appropriate professionalism!). More holistic, interdisciplinary education is needed. For too long we have chopped up education into silos that Procrustus would be proud of. We need more storytelling within and across the cultural divides. We can all relate at some level to stories. It is no coincidence that they were the preferred dominical teaching method in the Gospels! Finally, if we are to prepare our children for a different global future, we have to be clear about possible major shifts. Climate change is going to define so much. Neo-liberal capitalism will have to adapt to survive, if it can. Wisdom will be the necessary handmaid for knowledge, and political decisions will be crucial in assigning resources to helpful growth areas and away from destructive ones. We will need to hone and teach better riskassessment skills. Ethical questions will be at the core of decision-making, not least in applied science and technology. At present, ethical discussions are often lagging behind the emerging science and an active interdisciplinary engagement really needs to be embedded in key areas. Allied to all of this, religious communities have the potential to shape the lives of billions for good. They ought to be beacons in the vanguard of a better future, rather than the dinosaurs that they so often appear to be, grazing where they always have, oblivious to the impact of what could be the greatest Anthropocene challenge mankind has yet faced.

Science and Religion in Schools: Looking Forward and Looking Back

195

References Brown, A. 1999. “Youth Cultures and RE teaching in England today”, in Tidman, N. A. (ed.), Into the Third Millennium, Proceedings of the August 1998 EFTRE conference in Copenhagen. Malmö: Prinfo/Team Offset & Media, 98-110. —. 2011. Reassessing the Culture of Assessment. Cambridge: Grove Books. —. 2015. Changing the Climate. Cambridge: Grove Books. Brown, A., Hookway, S. and Poole, M. 1997. God Talk, Science Talk. Oxford: Lion Hudson. Hookway, S. 2007. REThinking 16: Religion and Science—seeing with both eyes. Nottingham: The Stapleford Centre. Little, T. 2015. An Intelligent Person’s Guide to Education. London: Bloomsbury. Philosophy, Science and the God Debate. 2011. [DVD] Rivett, R. (ed.) 2003. Science and Religion: exploring the creative interface. Birmingham: Christian Education Publications. Standen, A. 1958. Science is a Sacred Cow. New York: Dutton. Stannard, R. 1992. Here I Am. London: Faber & Faber.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN WHAT DO TEENAGERS BELIEVE ABOUT THE SOUL? FINDINGS FROM A SURVEY AND INTERVIEW STUDY WITH UPPER SECONDARY SCHOOL STUDENTS BERRY BILLINGSLEY, MEHDI NASSAJI, ALESSIA COSTA AND KEITH CHAPPELL

Introduction This conference was an invitation to look at the past, present, and future of the science and religion dialogue. In the context of school education, the future is the next generation and the quest is to develop and establish more effective ways to ensure that young people have the support and insights they need to engage actively with the big questions of human existence. An important question to ask in this field is to what extent young people are in a position to make progress in their understanding of the relationships between science and other disciplines. The question matters because many of the problems that concern individuals and society can neither be fully addressed by science nor are completely unrelated to science. Theologians, scientists and philosophers have insights into the natures of science and religion which enable them to consider why the two are not necessarily incompatible. In secondary schools internationally, however, the lessons for each curriculum subject are typically focused on the questions, methods and norms of thought associated with one discipline (Billingsley, Riga, Taber and Newdick 2014). Consequently opportunities for students to consider crossdisciplinary questions and to develop interdisciplinary insights tend to be limited. Previous research has studied students’ reasoning about the

What do Teenagers Believe about the Soul?

197

origins of the universe and of life and has shown that they frequently hold narrow and even misconstrued perceptions of science and religion, and as such are blocked from accessing the range of positions that scholars take (Billingsley, Taber, Riga, and Newdick 2013). For students to make progress in their understanding of the relationships between science and religion, they will need to consider different scholarly positions on the nature of science and the types of questions science can address. A focus in science lessons on teaching concepts via closed, so-called “recipe experiments”, has led several generations of students to perceive science as a boundless set of experimentally proven facts (Tytler 2007). A period of curriculum reform in England and elsewhere has attempted to shift students’ perceptions of the nature of science (Taber 2007). While these reforms have had some effect on teachers’ practice, most teachers remain reluctant to look at topics that bridge disciplines and to discuss why some questions are more amenable to science than others (Lederman, Antink, and Bartos 2014). The focus of our current project is to discover students’ perceptions of what it means to be human, and particularly to discover how they conceptualise and reason about the soul. We focused on the concept of the soul for three main reasons. Firstly, the soul is frequently a central focus in scholarly debates that consider what it means to be human in the age of neurosciences and genetics. Secondly, students in the selected age group (upper secondary) have science lessons about the factors which affect human behaviour, and these ideas have the potential to conflict with some conceptualisations of the soul. Thirdly, we surmise on the basis of existing research that media reporting of scientific advances has the potential to influence what students believe about the soul. In particular Racine and colleagues (2010) identify “neuroessentialism” as an emerging trend in media interpretations of neuroimaging, where neuroessentialism refers to depictions of the brain as the essence of a person, with the brain a synonym for concepts like “person”, “self” or “soul”. It seems reasonable to say that secondary students are likely to encounter headlines like “it’s all in your genes” or “we’re just a bundle of neurons”, which are not uncommon in media reports. Our expectation is that these types of reports both influence and also raise questions for students, and we are looking to discover what types of questions are raised and what kinds of reasoning students use when they formulate their positions. To build our understanding of students’ beliefs about the soul and their perceptions of what, if anything, science says about the soul, we carried out a survey with 590 students in Years 9-12 (age 14-17) from eight secondary schools, including some faith-affiliated and some independent

198

Chapter Fifteen

schools. The survey was designed as a series of statements each with a set of options (“agree”, “neither agree nor disagree”, “disagree”, “I don’t understand the question”). Students were provided with a space under each statement where they could write a comment. We also conducted in-depth interviews with 25 students in Years 10-11 (aged 15-16) in four schools in the South of England: a non-Church, independent school; a non-Church, girls’ community school; a Church academy and a Church boys’ academy. Participants were recruited from the respondents of the initial survey on the basis of their willingness to participate in the next stage of the research. Participants included both students who self-identify as religious and those who self-identify as nonreligious. In the quotations, students’ names are replaced with pseudonyms. The interview transcripts and students’ comments in the survey were analysed to construct a picture of students’ perceptions of the attributes of the soul and also of their uncertainties and predicaments. These are the data and discussions we focus on here.

Findings and Discussion The survey revealed that a significant proportion of the participating students perceive belief in a soul to be incompatible with a scientific worldview. In particular, one of the statements in the survey was “The scientific viewpoint is that the soul is not real”. Of the students responding to the survey, two fifths (42%) agreed with this statement while one fifth (18%) disagreed. Another statement was, “Science is compatible with religious ideas about the soul”. We found that one fifth of students (21%) agreed with this statement while 36% disagreed. Teenagers’ positions on the soul are thus diverse, but underpinning this diversity of beliefs there are some commonly identified attributes of soul and some commonly expressed contentions between what science and religion are perceived to say.

a) Attributes of the soul We noticed that, although students described the soul in many different ways, there were some attributes and characteristics that were cited by several participants. Broadly speaking, and whether or not they themselves believed in the soul, students said of the soul that it is the source of free will and your conscience, it is eternal, it is what makes you “you” and is the source of your personality, it carries your aspirations and values, it makes humans different from other animals, and it is like the mind;

What do Teenagers Believe about the Soul?

199

although it must be acknowledged that not every student asserted all attributes and characteristics. For many students it was felt to be important that the soul is not part of the regular physical universe and as such can leave the body at death. As one student commented on the survey, “Religion says that the soul can exist without the body so they must be separate” and another commented, “I believe the soul is within the human body but when you die the soul lives on”. Several students said that since the soul is not physical, it is outside science to explain, for example, “The soul is only explained in religion as it is a supernatural thing rather than a physical thing”. Students who identified themselves as religious were more likely to also reference attributes such as: “It goes up to heaven”; “it contrasts with instincts”; “it is pure and tries to get rid of sin”; “it is the link between the person, the Holy Spirit and God”; “it is given to humans by God”.

b) Reasoning about whether and why the existence of the soul is contested It was clear from the interviews that students widely felt that belief in the soul is attractive but also difficult to defend. We noted that students frequently used words like “belief”, “story”, “idea” and “hope” to explain the uncertain status of the soul. Kiara (age 15) explained that the idea of the soul is “like a story book”. I think I have a soul. I think my soul is my conscience and, sometimes, my choices and, I think, if I was to die, I think people enjoy thinking that you’re going to live on through your soul and your conscience—that’s sort of where your personality comes from and is carried with you wherever you go. But, I think that’s quite romantic, isn’t it? [laughs] I think, a lot of what I believe, I believe because you don’t want to believe that you’re just going to—a soul is such a lovely idea and even though someone doesn’t have a soul—it all sounds so like a story book, you know. I’d like to think I have a soul, yeah.

In their reasoning about why the existence of the soul is contested, the idea that it is not physical was often mentioned. David (age 15) contrasts the physical body with his conception of a soul and concludes that he cannot justify belief in a soul: “I would like to think there is a soul, I would. Because it gives you a sense of, when you die it’s not all over. That’s not it, it’s just the beginning. But, I think deep down, I think we don’t have a soul. I think it’s just the physical body”.

200

Chapter Fifteen

In their reasoning many students also linked the question of whether to believe in the soul to the question of whether anything exists beyond the physical universe, such as, “I think that the physical reality is all there is and we don't have a soul”. Some students were uncertain about the nature of reality: “I don't know what I think about souls or whether there is other reality except physical”. As such students are grappling with the nature of the soul (is it physical?) and also the nature of reality (can there be anything that is not physical?). The notion of how, if at all, to prove the existence of the soul was raised by many students. One wrote on the survey, “I am quite the materialist. I do not believe in things I have not seen proof for. Although there may indeed be a god as I have not seen anything to disprove his existence, I believe that something does not exist until there is proof that it does”. There were also students who argued that there is evidence for a dualistic soul, with such comments as “I think evidence of “out of body experiences” may support the theory of an exterior soul, and dualism”.

c) Perceptions of direct challenges from science Our analysis of the interviews indicated that many students perceived that science and scientists accept that something exists only if it can be observed directly and there is physical evidence or “proof” that it exists. Kitty (age 14) said, for example, “science doesn’t really think that there is a soul […] because, well science is all about elements and substances, but the soul doesn’t really have any substance to it, so they [say] it can’t really exist”. Nyah (age 15) also felt that scientists would reject the premise of the soul: [Scientists] would say: “in my opinion, [the soul] doesn’t exist”. They would say that the soul is a very, the soul is a concept that religious people use and it gives a hope for afterlife. It’s a comfort, it’s not really real, to be honest it’s made up to comfort people.

The survey comments also provided many examples of students saying that science and scientists require proof before they accept that something exists: “Scientists do not believe in anything that they can't prove therefore can never really believe in God”. There were also some students who argued that scientists have a range of positions: “science is bigger than just one thing, it’s made of scientists who have different ideas”. Another perceived challenge from science concerned whether aspects of human personality could be attributable to the soul or attributable to the physical person. For example one student commented, “Science has

What do Teenagers Believe about the Soul?

201

evidence that our consciousness is from our brains, but religion says it's from our soul”. For many of those who saw the supernatural soul as separate from the physical brain, this meant there were two parallel and competing ways to account for human attributes such as feelings, aspirations, agency, consciousness and conscience. Another student wrote, I am not sure whether we have a soul, I would like us to live on after death through our souls and dwell in heaven but I find it too unbelievable in terms of science that we have a separate conscience when we have discovered so much about how our brain functions biologically.

Another wrote, “I believe there is a soul inside of us which science doesn't agree with”. In contrast, some students argued that the soul accounts for aspects of being human that we cannot explain, e.g. “I believe that we will never be able to fully explain the feelings and emotions of humans as they are so complicated”.

d) Students’ perceptions of the power and limits of science The idea that the soul is not physical is important to students for a number of reasons. In students’ perceptions of reality, if humans do not have supernatural souls, then they are fully immersed in the physical universe that science describes. Science is associated with a paradigm that dismisses the possibility of a spiritual dimension of life—“We’re told we’re just the activity of carbon and some proteins”. If there is no supernatural soul, the perception is that the person exists only because of evolution (which is perceived as atheistic). “Science states that the purpose of life is to survive and pass on the genes of the parents to ensure the species survives”. The essence of personality is no longer spiritual and coherent throughout life; it is now fragmented into genes, brain cells and neurochemicals. “There’s no evidence for the supernatural soul. Humans evolved through the same process as animals and carry out most of the same processes as animals. Not to mention that humans and animals both have the same capacity to feel pain and other sensations”. The universe has no meaning and its operations are caused by disinterested mechanisms. There is confusion too about whether humans are markedly different from other animals, “Overall I am confused over what is right. Seeing what humans have built compared to the feats of other animals I must admit that we are special”. Students responded to this dilemma in different ways. Some students explained that there are no limits to the capacity of science to explain human experience, “I think that science will be able to explain almost

202

Chapter Fifteen

everything, if not everything about the human body in the near future”. Some accepted what they described as the only rational belief: “Although it would be nice to know that us humans have an ultimate purpose and we are not simply here to survive; I think the reality is that we are no more or less special than any other living thing in the world, we are just a small part of evolution”. Many other students rejected what they perceived as the scientific view on the basis that it didn’t seem to explain their personal experiences of reality: “We have strange impulses such as love, compassion and others that can go against our basic survival instincts which science cannot explain. Science shows the brain as an emotionless computer but there is clearly something more to it”. We also noted comments by some students who said that science is only a part of a bigger picture: “I like to believe that science can't tell us everything and that we humans are more than just facts and figures”.

Conclusion Students’ perceptions of the attributes of the soul are some or all of the following: “It is the source of your personality, capacity to make choices, moral compass, aspirations, a way to relate to God and a basis on which to believe a person can be eternal”. We noted from their interviews and survey comments that the existence of the soul matters to many teenagers but also that they perceive it to be a difficult idea to defend in the light of science. The notion of soul was connected for many students with a reality that is coherent and invested with meaning. We also found that students tended to associate a scientific worldview with physical reductionism. These findings seem to us to be important to consider in relation to curriculum design and planning, particularly as students currently have few opportunities in school to look at topics and questions that bridge the disciplines. In the follow-up work we are carrying out now, we are developing and trialling workshops designed to give students opportunities to consider different positions on the perceived contentions and questions that have emerged from the study. The workshops we are designing include some that are focused on questions we have explored with students in our previous research. An example is a cross-curricular session on evolution, in which students critically examine whether evolution is necessarily atheistic. We are also developing workshops which aim to encourage students to explore the relationships between contemporary biology and different perspectives on the soul.

What do Teenagers Believe about the Soul?

203

References Billingsley, B., Riga, F., Taber, K. S. and Newdick, H. 2014. “Secondary school teachers’ perspectives on teaching about topics that bridge science and religion”, Curriculum Journal, 25(3), 372-395. Billingsley, B., Taber, K., Riga, F. and Newdick, H. 2013. “Secondary school students’ epistemic insight into the relationships between science and religion—a preliminary enquiry”, Research in Science Education, 43(4), 1715-1732. Lederman, N. G., Antink, A. and Bartos, S. 2014. “Nature of science, scientific inquiry, and socio-scientific issues arising from genetics: A pathway to developing a scientifically literate citizenry”, Science & Education, 23, 285-302. Racine, E., Waldman, S., Rosenberg, J. and Illes, J. 2010. “Contemporary neuroscience in the media”, Social Science & Medicine, 71(4), 725733. Taber, K. S. 2007. Classroom-based research and evidence-based practice: a guide for teachers. London: SAGE. Tytler, R. 2007. Re-imagining science education: Engaging students in science for Australia's future. Adelaide: ACER Press.

PART III

CHAPTER SIXTEEN THE BIRTH OF THE SCIENCE AND RELIGION FORUM MIKE POOLE

In Autumn 1973, having been appointed full time to a lectureship in Physics Education at King’s College London, I had expressed my wish to undertake some research in the field of science and religion, with particular reference to secondary education. “There are three people you must talk to”, I was told; and Arthur Peacocke was one of them. So, at 12.15, four days before Christmas 1973, according to an old diary, in Room E6, Old Court, Clare College Cambridge, I first met the Dean, Revd Dr Arthur R. Peacocke. Arthur made me welcome, kindly showed me round the Chapel and then we sat down and chatted. Among other things he asked was whether I was interested in a planned new venture to set up a forum for consultations on matters of science and religion, following earlier informal meetings. I said I was indeed interested and quickly found myself the first Treasurer of what came to be known as the Science & Religion Forum, most of whose annual meetings I have benefitted from attending over the last forty years. According to my archives, recruitment for an earlier (1972) gathering was achieved: … when the founder Dr A. R. Peacocke wrote to scientists belonging to the University Teachers’ Group. In 1974 when the association decided to become more public a press release was issued informing people of the group. Since then there have been a few reports in the press about the group. But probably the greatest amount of recruitment has been done through personal contacts.

By May 1976 the mailing list had 138 names on it. In the above-mentioned document it was made clear that “membership is open to anyone who is interested in the association and pays an annual

The Birth of the Science and Religion Forum

207

subscription of £1 is payable (sic.) to cover postage and other expenses”— but that is jumping ahead. Our President was the then Bishop of Durham, the Rt Revd Dr John Habgood, later to become Archbishop of York in 1983. The secretary was Dr Geoffrey Price and our Chairman was, of course, Arthur. The inaugural meeting of the Forum took place in the University of Durham, at Van Mildert College, from April 10-12 1975, jumping in at the deep end with “The Problem of Consciousness”.1 I realised, during a conducted tour of Durham Castle at the 2015 40th Anniversary Meeting of our Science and Religion Forum, how appropriate was the choice, within the University of Durham, of Van Mildert College for that inaugural meeting of an academic body which wished to subject issues concerning the interplay of science and religion to rigorous scrutiny. William Van Mildert was the last of the Prince-Bishops and a driving force in the foundation of the University of Durham, which has now hosted several of our annual consultations. He gave Durham Castle and a number of other properties towards this founding. Now to return to Arthur himself. His leadership was exemplary. He was highly proactive, with plenty of good ideas and the energy to develop them; as well as having a wide range of contacts, worldwide. Yet he was always ready to put others into the limelight and encourage the talents of newcomers and younger people. For example, from earliest days, the Forum made space during its two-day residential consultations for the 1530 minute “paperettes” through which people could “stretch their wings” at speaking publicly about topics of mutual interest. A personal appreciation of Arthur’s kindness arose over breakfast at a later Durham conference, this time at St John’s College: he told me that, when curates etc. asked him how to start off in the field of science & religion, he would recommend them to read my User’s Guide to Science and Belief. Somewhat later than the time when I first met Arthur, through moving in various educational circles, I had the pleasant surprise of meeting the other half of the partnership, Rosemary Peacocke, HMI. I grew to value the kindness and the friendship of both of them over many years. I know it gave particular pleasure to the many delegates at the fortieth anniversary conference to meet up with Rosemary once again.

1

Cf. “Science and religion”, 1975, in Nature 255, p. 280. Four papers from the conference (by Peacocke, A. R.; Appleton, T.; Robinson, H. M.; and Bowker, J.) were later published in Zygon, Vol. 11 (4), December 1976, 307- 379.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN FORTY YEARS OF THE FORUM: A FEW AFTER-DINNER REFLECTIONS JOHN HEDLEY BROOKE

Looking back A fortieth-anniversary conference is inevitably a time for reflection as well as for thinking of the future. If I may be permitted a personal recollection, it would relate to an occasion in the late 1960s when I gave my first public talk on the relations between religious belief and the sciences. It was at a conference held in the cathedral close at Norwich; and one reason I remember it so well was the magnificent display of magnolias set against the mellow, sunlit stone. I was at the time a doctoral student in Cambridge and I remember speaking on the Cambridge geologist Adam Sedgwick, who was also a canon residentiary of Norwich cathedral. I mention that event of long ago because my invitation had come from Arthur Peacocke, who was already organising meetings on “science & religion” several years before the Forum was launched as one of the several organisations he inspired and realised. It therefore gives me very special pleasure that, on this occasion, Rosemary Peacocke should be with us as a special guest of honour. Actually, within the space of a couple of weeks, I have found myself at two meetings that would never have happened had it not been for Arthur. When Mark Harris emailed to check that I was still willing to give an after-dinner address, he courteously expressed the hope that I was enjoying a peaceful and productive summer. I had to reply that I was currently in the middle of Ecuador, dodging political protests against the President and, as it happens, also dodging eruptions of the Cotopaxi volcano. The reason was that I was on my way to a workshop in the Galapagos Islands organised by the Ian Ramsey Centre in Oxford and the San Francisco University of Quito. Arthur’s role in instigating the Ian

Forty Years of the Forum: A Few After-Dinner Reflections

209

Ramsey Centre is well known and there was yet another resonance, in that one of the other plenary speakers was Celia Deane-Drummond, a former Chair of the Forum, who, both informally and in her lecture, made explicit reference to the help she had received from Arthur in re-shaping her career. His legacy continues to have many manifestations, including the Essay Prize in his name that the Forum now awards annually to a young scholar in the field. It was here, in Durham, in April 1975 that the Forum was inaugurated. A primary purpose was to make available the insights that came from the academic study of science and religion to scientists, teachers, members of the clergy or the laity—anyone in fact with an interest in the subject. As its first Treasurer, Michael Poole, recalls (Chapter 16), the annual subscription was the princely sum of £1. If there has been an over-arching goal it has been to explore ways of finding consonance between the discourses of science and religion rather than capitulating to the rhetoric of those who see or want nothing but conflict between them. This is not the occasion for a detailed history, but it does seem appropriate to mention a few of the circumstances that have shaped the Forum and made it what it has become today. By far the most important has been the vision and dedication of those who have held office, in some cases for many years. I will say more of this in a moment. But of crucial importance have been the annual conferences at which members have met and shared their concerns - in a context where the speakers have regularly been among the most distinguished in their respective areas of expertise. Perhaps some of the most memorable meetings have been those held in conjunction with other organisations having cognate interests: We combined with the British Ecological Society in 1996; with the British Association Festival of Science in Leeds in 1997 and Exeter in 2004; with the Ian Ramsey Centre in 2005 when Einstein’s special theory of relativity was commemorated; and with ESSSAT in Edinburgh in 2010, when our minds were focused on the question: “Is religion natural?” It is especially appropriate that we should have Willem Drees, a former President of ESSSAT, with us as this year’s Gowland Lecturer. A significant moment in the Forum’s development came in 1982 with the launch of the regular publication that we know today as Reviews. Under the editorship first of Peter Hodgson, and then of David Bartholomew, it developed into a valuable guide to many of the most recent and significant books in the field. During his editorship David was able to report that publishers were now off their own bat sending him books for review, a burden for him but an indication of the growing respect in which the publication was held—an indication, too, of the great

210

Chapter Seventeen

expansion of the field of “Science & Religion” during the 1980s and 1990s. It was in 2004 that the Forum was enriched as a Society when the “Christ and the Cosmos Initiative”—the brainchild of the Methodist minister Bill Gowland—merged with our organisation, an event commemorated each year in our Gowland Lecture. An innovation of another kind was marked in 2007 when, under the chairmanship of Neil Spurway, it was agreed that the profile of the Forum would be enhanced if our annual conference proceedings were to be published as a book. This has led to an expanding series of monographs (of which the present volume is the ninth). In providing tangible records of the conferences, these monographs have included essays from some of our most distinguished and innovative scholars. For example, the volume on Darwinism and Natural Theology, edited by Andrew Robinson following our 2009 conference in Cambridge, has outstanding contributions from David Fergusson and Sarah Coakley. And there are gems in them all. Looking back over the years, it is perhaps a pity that such a series was not launched earlier because one is struck by the almost prescient quality of the conference themes. In 1991, here again in Durham, God’s Action in the World was under discussion, before it became such a big topic later in the 1990s. Today almost every university seems to have a project on what it means to be human—the very subject of our meeting in Newnham College Cambridge fifteen years ago. In short there are achievements we can truly celebrate. But the one I particularly want to mention relates to that original purpose of the Forum as conceived in the 1970s and reaffirmed in recent years. When I have attended our meetings I have been struck by a sense of community among our members whose smiling faces reappear every year. I am grateful for the welcome I have always found here and for the insights I have gained from so many exchanges with friends and colleagues. There is, of course, no such thing as a dialogue between science and religion. “Science” and “religion” are both abstractions, as one of our Vice Presidents, Peter Harrison, has recently reminded us in his Edinburgh Gifford Lectures, The Territories of Science and Religion. There can only be dialogue between people, and that the Forum has warmly encouraged. Which leads me to express my thanks, on behalf of the membership, to those who, over the years, have done so much to make this sense of fellowship possible. When, in 2004, a former President, Russell Stannard, introduced the logo that appears on the front cover of Reviews, he suggested that several interpretations were possible—including seeing the figure as someone holding open their arms in an act of welcome,

Forty Years of the Forum: A Few After-Dinner Reflections

211

signifying that the Forum embraced all people of whatever religion or none. Something of this breadth can be seen in the records. For example the report of our 2002 meeting in Chester, when the subject was the problem of evil, refers to an attendance of 74 participants, with representation from the Netherlands, Iran, India and New Zealand, as well as the UK. Long may that openness continue. There is a special reason this year why an expression of gratitude is called for. And it is a sad one. As many of you will know, since last year’s meeting in Leeds, we have lost two colleagues who, as successive secretaries of the Forum, were exceptional in their loyalty and commitment to its success. Following the loss of Peter Colyer, after a courageous struggle with cancer, we learnt of the sudden and unexpected death of Jeffrey Robinson who had nobly added the duties of Treasurer to his secretarial role. To take over the planning and organisation of this conference in mid-stream, and in such a circumstance, was a difficult challenge and has been a complicated task. We all owe special thanks to our Chairman, Mike Fuller, to Hilary Martin and to Mark Harris, who between them salvaged this event, which could so easily have been in jeopardy. And that is perhaps the moment also to thank our host, David Wilkinson and St John’s College, for playing their indispensable part. David has often spoken at Forum events and we are truly grateful for his support.

Looking forward Before closing, I would like to leave the past and look, briefly, to the future. For historians, who usually say the future is not their period, there is a certain temerity in this. But I am often asked where I think the flash points in the relations between science and religion are likely to be in the years ahead. One must, of course, always ask “whose science and whose religion?” But what shall we be dialoguing about when the Forum meets 40 years hence? One thing about which we may know more by then is how life originated on Earth and the extent to which it may have been seeded by extra-terrestrial material. No doubt in some circles the old question will return: whether a naturalistic explanation must render a Creator redundant. Only those ignorant of the sophisticated theologies of nature that have informed discussion in the past could make that mistake. The science of synthetic biology will doubtless have advanced to a point where, through the modification of the DNA of a species, new living beings will have been produced, different from all existing forms. Flamboyant biologists

212

Chapter Seventeen

are already writing books with titles like Genesis, explicitly mimicking theological categories. But we have very little understanding of the ecological impact of man-made species and the range of hazards they might present. Genetic engineering will doubtless have advanced beyond the stage of making designer cats cuter and more cuddly—a prospect recently reported by science journalists in connection with the pinpointing of genes that differentiate domestic from feral felines. What will it be like to live in a world of designer pets? Or designer humans? Whether enhanced or not, homo sapiens seems likely to be transformed further away from a once “natural” state, whether by drugs or other means of genetic interference. Our ever more sophisticated biotechnologies seem destined to collapse further the old Aristotelian distinction between the natural and the artificial. When that distinction is eroded, will there be any “nature” left, on the basis of which to construct a natural theology? The rapid increase in the number of exoplanets, many more likely to resemble the earth in occupying habitable zones, will revitalise the ancient discussion of extra-terrestrial intelligence and the implications their discovery would have for different systems of religious belief. When the discovery of a cousin for the Earth was recently announced, a journalist for The Times reported that ET has always been science fiction—until last night. I did not much care for the history in that remark but there will be plenty of room in future to debate the ethical and doctrinal issues that would attend a real encounter with ET. Interestingly, in an intriguing survey conducted by Ted Peters on religious attitudes towards the discovery of ETs, he has found that secular scientists often assume wrongly that such a discovery would destroy religious belief. Peters shows from the results of his survey that most religious groups do not believe that their religion would be compromised. They do, however, tend to the view that the discovery of ET would be a problem for those of religious traditions other than their own. This of course introduces another set of issues that remains underresearched in the literature on science & religion—namely the importance of a comparative methodology when evaluating the attitudes of different religious traditions towards the culture of science. How one religious tradition is perceived by another becomes an important question when we ask, as many have, why the idea of “conflict between science and religion” is so embedded in popular culture. This is, after all, the idea against which much of the activity of the Forum has been directed. But at a conference last May in Madison, I suddenly saw, with greater clarity than before, that part of the answer lies with the polemical value of the conflict thesis in the

Forty Years of the Forum: A Few After-Dinner Reflections

213

context of battles, not between science and religion, but between different religions. It has been a characteristic of several mainstream religions that, especially in modern times, they have wished to claim a special relationship with science. The argument then goes: “there is no conflict between science and religion in my religion, but there is in yours”. I have found that formula on many occasions and in many contexts. Apologists for Islam will sometimes say that there was no Galileo affair in our religion. Protestant apologists will say that science prospered during and after the Protestant Reformation, but was held back by the authoritarianism of the Catholic Church. Buddhists have said their own philosophy is more conducive to science than the monotheistic religions, which struggle to integrate the activity of their Gods with the workings of Nature. Richard Dawkins will say that there is no conflict between science and his philosophy, but there is between science and what he understands religion to be. This, then, may be one reason among many why the conflict thesis is difficult to defeat. It is simply too useful as a polemical instrument for extolling the virtues of one’s own metaphysics or religion. On that point I shall end because it also promises to give historians something to discuss 40 years hence. So I conclude with an anecdote that would seem salient, and worrying, in this context. A few years ago I attended a seminar given in the Oxford Centre for Hindu Studies. The speaker was an Indian chemist of some distinction. His talk frequently made reference to the fact that there was no conflict between science and his religious tradition—with the implication that there was for other religions. In the questions that followed he was asked how those of his persuasion were able to accommodate Darwinism and the Big Bang with their cyclical view of the cosmos. “That’s no problem at all,” he replied: “we don’t accept them”.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CLOSING REFLECTIONS MARK HARRIS

As the Conference Secretary, I have to admit that I felt a little nervous about organising the Fortieth Anniversary conference. Not only was it a big milestone for the Science and Religion Forum, but the Committee had decreed that it should explore the quite general title of “Science and Religion: Celebrating the Dialogue, Exploring the Future”. The generality of the title was one thing; the fear that it might inspire all of our invited speakers to say much the same thing was another (“there is no conflict between science and religion”). In the end, I need not have worried. By any standard the conference was a great success, and the title inspired some exciting input in terms of new directions for the field, and of the challenges we face now. This volume has set out the new directions in detail, and in this short piece I simply want to reflect on the challenges we face at the moment, especially concerning the social and academic status of the science-and-religion field. Everyone knows that “Science and Religion” is a hot topic. Having worked either in academic physics or theology for much of my professional life, I am used to people shifting uneasily when, at those proverbial parties, they ask me what I do for a living. As a result I had previously become accustomed to changing the subject quickly. Not so with my current role in teaching Science and Religion. Now, when people ask me what I do for a living, I can guarantee that my answer will generate an interested response, often accompanied by a frank opinion about the feasibility of the subject. For, as all of us in the Science and Religion Forum know, the science-religion discourse is of enormous popular interest; indeed, it is hardly possible to live in the Western world and not hold an opinion on it, still less be ignorant of its significance. As we also know, the science-and-religion discourse is almost universally construed in terms of a “debate”, and a debate that is characterised by “conflict” above all. In the face of the perceived (and

Closing Reflections

215

often entrenched) antagonism, the calls made by the scholarly field of Science and Religion for nuance and complexity have so far had relatively little impact; the debate has become stuck in a rut, as it were. This entrenchment is at least partly because “conflict sells” in the popular media, much more so than “complexity” and “nuance”. But it means that organisations such as our own face something of an uphill struggle in attempting to enrich the dialogue. This is not helped by the fact that the science-and-religion discipline has not yet achieved a sufficiently critical momentum that it is taught and researched as a matter of course in universities that otherwise cover its relevant components: the natural sciences, philosophy, religious studies, and theology. This is something of a paradox: the science-religion field is of enormous significance in interpreting and relating the great questions of existence to each other, but it is still something of a niche area in academic studies. So, while there is much excellent work going on—and our Fortieth Anniversary conference offered ample testimony to that—the field has not yet broken through the “glass ceiling” whereby all major university faculties of philosophy and religion would feel compelled to hire a specialist in the area, in recognition of its patent significance. Hence, I do not believe that all is rosy in the science-and-religion garden at the moment, and some of the comments made by speakers at the conference confirmed me in this suspicion. In a very revealing paper on the past and future of the field, Wim Drees warned us frankly of the dangers of failing to engage both with our academic peers and with the religious beliefs and practices of ordinary people. We are not very successful in reaching out either to the academy or beyond it, he pointed out, which has meant that our work is still rather socially marginal. Those were the terms he used, and coming from the editor of the leading journal in our field (Zygon), I think that it is important that we hear them. And Alister McGrath, in an otherwise very upbeat paper about the future of science and religion, spoke of the “flatness” of many of the attempts to relate science and religion to each other, at least until recently. It does not help that the science-and-religion field is also rather “flat” in terms of its human diversity. Michael Burdett hinted in his talk that Science and Religion is dominated by white, male, mostly Anglo-Saxon, Christians. Hence, while the field may deal in questions of the utmost significance for all human beings, its practitioners represent a rather niche corner in the spectrum of human diversity. The same is true of the membership of SRF. It is wonderful that the Forum’s membership has been rejuvenating to some extent in recent years, but we need to be doing rather more, I think, if the Forum is to be in good health in another forty

216

Chapter Eighteen

years’ time. Arthur Peacocke—our key founder—left us with an inestimable legacy, as did his fellow pioneers in the science-and-religion field, especially Ian Barbour and John Polkinghorne. But I wonder whether they might not be a little shocked to realise that—again as Michael Burdett demonstrated—we are still rather often asking much the same questions as they were, and in much the same way? There are dangers, I believe, for a field that continues to be so fixated with method, and with the need to keep defining itself, especially if after all that talk we go back to quantum physics and evolutionary biology as the only sciences that are really important to us, and to a rather cerebral form of Christianity as our religion of choice. Viewed in this way, it is perhaps not surprising that the academic study of Science and Religion remains something of a niche topic, even while its popular significance is unquestionable. This rather negative first reflection leads me on to a much more positive second one. I was delighted by the many new directions we were shown in the conference. As I mentioned at the beginning of this piece, in organising the conference I was rather apprehensive that every speaker might say much the same thing. But far from it! We were given a wealth of new approaches to the dialogue. I can hardly mention them all but, to take three, Michael Burdett’s interests in technology, Gillian Straine’s emphasis on science and religion as a pastoral issue, and Helen De Cruz’s work on palaeoanthropology (which regrettably could not be represented in this book), are all issues that the field has hardly touched upon yet, but which are clearly very fertile ground for future harvests. My own interests are perhaps closer to home. As a physicist-turned-biblical scholar I found a particular resonance in Andrew Davison’s suggestions of a closer integration of Science and Religion with the theological enterprise. I myself am keen that much wider areas of theology and biblical studies should prove a natural home for Science and Religion than has been the case so far. As I mentioned above, it is anomalous that while every seminary or university department of theology and religion in Europe and North America maintains its core teaching staff in topics such as biblical studies, philosophical theology, and religious studies, only a handful have seen fit to create positions in Science and Religion, in spite of the obvious significance of the field in today’s religious and cultural landscape. I sincerely hope that over time that situation improves. There are signs of growth (especially owing to the outreach of the Templeton organisations), but it seems slow. In the meantime, the conference provided valuable pointers towards what needs to be done to engage more closely with the questions that our fellow academics beyond Science and Religion are

Closing Reflections

217

asking, and the questions that ordinary people are asking in their very different religious contexts to our own. So I would like to finish these reflections simply by reacting with enthusiasm to what was presented at the conference, and to return to a quietly confident hope that, looking forward to the next forty years, the Forum will be able to respect Arthur’s legacy by moving into brave new worlds for Science and Religion.

INDEX Albert the Great, 54 Alito, Samuel, 129, 131-2 altruism, 72, 162, 194 Anderson, Pamela Sue, 7 anthropic arguments, 102, 108, 11112, 160 anthropocentrism, 148, 164, 175 anthropology, 7, 23-4, 61, 76, 138 anthroposophical movement, 143 anthroposophy, 143 Apostolic Fathers, 104 Appiah, Anthony, 138, 144 Aquinas, Thomas, 51-6, 59, 119, 121, 151, 153-4 Argyle, Michael, 140 Aristotle, 54, 56, 59, 151, 164 astroethics, 6 astronomy, 102-6, 108-9, 113, 151 atheism (see also New Atheism), 11, 30, 41, 133, 201 Atmanspacher, Harald, 180, 182 Atran, Scott, 76 Augustine, 2, 52, 153-4, 159 authenticity, 2, 30-2, 42, 47 autonomy, 31, 88, 127 Avicenna, 59 Babylonian science, 151 Bacon, Francis, 149 Baha’ism, 74 Balthasar, Hans Urs von, 59 Barbour, Ian, 2, 11, 23, 31, 57, 6673, 77, 118, 123, 131, 137, 141, 151, 215 Barrett, Justin, 76 Barth, Karl, 59 Bastin, Edward, 138, 142 Berger, Peter, 74, 130 Bergson, Henri, 151 Berlin Wall, 7, 40 Berry, Thomas, 152

Bhaskar, Roy, 18-22 Biblical Studies, 62, 216 Big Bang theory, 32-3, 72, 110-11, 151, 190, 213 Big Crunch, 111 Billingsley, Berry, 4 Bohm, David, 138, 142 Bonaventure, 153 Boyer, Pascal, 76 Braithwaite, Richard, 138 bridge (iconography of), 31, 71, 91 British Academy, 67, 72, 75 Brooke, John Hedley, 4, 25, 58, 131, 133, 189 Brown, Adrian, 4 Brown, Warren, 161 Buddhism, 40, 120, 213 Burdett, Michael, 2, 215-16 Calvin, John, 59, 119 Cambrian explosion, 162 Campbell, Colin, 40 Campbell, D. T., 161 Campbell, David E., 36-8, 39 cancer, 3, 83-101, 211 capitalism, 194 Capra, Fritjof, 138 causal joint (See also divine action), 160-1, 168, 176-7 causation (See also causal joint), 56, 170-5 Center for Theology and the Natural Sciences, 31, 57, 160 chaos, 57, 159, 168 Chardin, Pierre Teilhard de, 71, 151-2 Chevallier, Temple, 3, 102-116 Christ, 4, 19, 70, 85, 87, 90, 155, 163, 179, 180-6, 210

Index Christianity, 5, 11, 31, 34, 42, 58, 67, 73-5, 79, 120-2, 127-8, 130, 134, 147-9, 159, 163-4, 189, 215 Christology (See also Christ; Incarnation), 5, 85, 180 Church of England, 40, 60, 103, 109, 137 Clark, Stephen R. L., 7 Clarke, Chris, 138, 142 Clarke, Isabel, 138 Clayton, Philip, 4, 159, 161, 168-9, 172-7 Clement of Alexandria, 154 Clifford, William K., 45 Coakley, Sarah, 161-2, 210 cognitive science of religion, 6, 76 coherence between scientific disciplines, 32, 33 of science and religion, 14 Colyer, Peter, 211 complementarity of science and faith, 15 wave-particle, 181-2 Comte, Auguste, 126 conflict (of science and religion), 3, 10, 23, 25, 31, 43, 58, 106, 113, 118, 121-3, 131, 212-4 Confucianism, 120 consciousness (See also mind), 113, 132, 142, 161, 168-75, 177, 201, 207 contemplation, 143 contemplative religion, 136, 139, 140-1, 143, 144 Conway Morris, Simon, 160 Cooling, Trevor, 188 Copernicus, 104 Corner, Mark, 176 cosmology, 68, 72, 102, 110, 148, 150-2 Coulson, Charles A., 12-17, 19, 71 Coyne, Jerry, 69 creation (See also God: relationship to creation), 53, 59, 93, 108, 110,

219 113, 139, 148, 150-1, 153-5, 158, 163-4, 175, 177 continuous, 154 cruciform, 163 doctrine of, 63, 70, 89, 96, 148 myths of, 128 new, 113 creationism, 42, 58, 69, 106 Crick, Francis, 27 critical realism, 1, 18, 22 Cunningham, Conor, 60 Dallal, A., 73 dark energy, 32, 112 dark matter, 5, 32 Darwin, Annie, 104 Darwin, Charles, 25, 56, 68-6, 1024, 109, 112, 114, 158, 160-3 Darwinism, 70, 102, 104, 158, 213 Davie, Grace, 41, 74 Davies, Paul, 110, 113-4 Davison, Andrew, 2, 44, 216 Dawkins, Richard, 69, 106, 213 De Cruz, Helen, 76, 158, 216 De Duve, Christian, 159 De Smedt, J., 76 Deacon, Terrence, 169, 170-2, 174, 177 Deane-Drummond, Celia, 209 death (See also life after death), 94, 162, 199 deism, 69, 108, 114, 129, 176 Delio, Ilia, 164 Descartes, 149 design argument, 3, 42, 102, 106-14 dialogue (of science and religion), 2f, 11f, 17, 23, 31, 58-60, 62, 67, 69, 70f, 73, 77, 79, 86f, 118f, 122-4, 131, 139, 147-8, 150f, 153, 155, 196, 210, 214, 216 Dilthey, Wilheim, 90 disability, 7, 20, 21 divine action, 4, 24, 57-9, 69, 72, 107, 133, 139, 154, 160, 168-77 Dobson, John, 138 Dobzhansky, Theodosius, 164 Docetism, 179

220 Dodds, Michael, 60, 175 Drees, Willem, 2, 209, 215 dual aspect theory, 180 dualism, 61, 88, 96-8, 131, 139, 148, 173, 180-1, 183-6, 200 Dyson, Freeman J., 113 Easternization, 30 Ecklund, Elaine, 76 ecological crisis, 4, 7, 147, 148, 150 ecology, 147-50, 152-5 ecotheology, 7 Edwards, Denis, 60 evolutionary epistemology (See also epistemology), 161-2 Efron, Noah, 73 emergence, 4, 32, 159, 161, 168-73, 174f, 177 Emmet, Dorothy, 137, 140 empiricism, 3, 5, 22, 54, 126, 136, 141f, 144 Enlightenment, 20, 24, 26, 120, 121 Epiphany Philosophers, 3, 136-46 epistemology (See also evolutionary epistemology), 14, 20, 22, 32f, 52, 56, 65, 71, 78, 87f, 90-3, 122, 133, 162, 186, 192 eschatology, 70, 72, 86, 126 Eutychianism, 184 evangelicals, 35, 37, 39, 40, 67 Everett, Hugh, 111 Evers, Dirk, 36, 41 evolution, 33, 56, 68-72, 75, 98, 109, 114, 133, 151f, 158-60, 1624, 1172, 201f evolutionary epistemology, 161 evolutionary naturalism, 69 existentialism, 70f, 85 extra-terrestrial intelligence, 212 faith, 10ff, 23, 25f, 39, 53, 58, 66, 69ff, 73ff, 84ff, 92ff, 95, 99, 104, 106, 127f, 131f, 150, 152f, 155, 163, 185, 189, 197 Fall, 90, 162 Faraday Institute for Science and Religion, 189 Faraday, Michael, 106

Index Farrer, Austin, 160f feminist theology, 85 Fergusson, David, 210 fine-tuning, 110-12, 114, 160 France, 37, 40, 60, 127, 147, 151 free will, 27, 198 freedom, 99, 131, 171, 173 Fuller, Michael, 3, 211 Galileo, 25, 68, 127f, 149, 213 Garrison, Jim, 138 Geertz, Clifford, 34, 44 Geller, Uri, 142 Genesis, 68, 149, 153 genetic engineering, 78, 113, 212 Gifford Lectures, 67, 72, 75, 77, 118, 137, 162, 210 God, 24f, 85, 93, 98, 106, 132, 188, 199, 202 as creator, 107, 110f,153f belief in, 129, 149, 200 existence of, 107f, 111ff, 149 human relationship to, 2, 83 image of, 89, 149, 153 knowledge of, 53, 55, 70, 98, 108, 185 love of, 84f, 95 nature of, 51, 58, 70, 85, 87, 150, 153f, 158f, 162f, 175 power of, 106f, 110, 113 relationship to creation, 51, 53, 98, 169, 173, 175 relationship to human beings, 51, 114, 181 revelation of, 19, 70, 108, 113, 152 Son of, 179, 181-3, 185f will of, 148 god of the gaps, 13, 72, 107f, 114, 160, 168 god particle, 110 Goethe, Johann, 139, 143 Goldilocks enigma, 110, 112 Goodwin, Brian, 142, 159 Gould, Stephen J., 70, 123, 159 Gowland, Bill, 210 Grand Unified Theory, 98

Index gravitation, 32, 107, 110 Gray, Asa, 163 Gregersen, Neils-Henrik, 159 Grotius, Hugo, 128 Guthrie, Stewart, 76 Habgood, John, 207 Hanby, Michael, 60 Hanson, Russell, 71 Harris, Mark, 4, 208, 211 Harrison, Peter, 3, 25, 118-24 Haught, John, 163 healing, 83, 85, 97-9 heat death, 112f Hegel, G. W. F., 59 Heidegger, Martin, 5, 90 Heisenberg, Werner, 160 hermeneutics, 68, 83, 90f, 99, 133 Hermes, 90 heteronomy, 31, 127 Human Genome Project, 6 Hill, Jonathan, 76 Hinduism, 40, 120, 189 history, 23ff, 40, 45, 51, 63, 66, 69, 73, 78f, 90, 122, 143, 159, 185, 190 Hodgson, Peter, 209 holism, 4, 179-84, 186 hope, 52, 85, 97ff, 113, 126, 164, 199, 200 Horrox, Jeremiah, 106 Hoyle, Fred, 110 human condition, 2 human flourishing, 2, 24 human nature, 2, 6f, 26f, 53, 90, 197f, 201, 210 human sciences, 68, 73, 75f, 79 human telos, 6 Humanism, 24, 129, 189 humanities, 46, 47, 61, 68, 73, 78ff Hume, David, 112 image of God (See also Imago Dei), 89, 93, 96f imagination, 79 Imago Dei (See also image of God), 6, 95, 161 incarnation, 4, 159, 179ff, 182-6,

221 indeterminacy, 72, 160 individualism, 2, 31, 39 information, 32, 91, 94, 112f, 171 integration (of science and religion), 2, 23, 31, 62, 131, 151, 192, 216 Intelligent Design, 6, 42, 69, 102, 106, 108, 114 interdisciplinary, 90, 93 interdisciplinary method, 61, 84, 91f, 194 Islam, 5, 40, 42, 74, 127f, 189, 213 James Webb Space Telescope, 110 James, William, 45, 161 Jeans, James, 102 Jeeves, Malcolm, 76, 161 Jervis, Chris, 189 Judaism, 127 Jüngel, Eberhard, 69 Kant, Immanuel, 112, 127 Kauffman, Stuart, 159 Kim, Jaegwon, 170f Kingsley, Charles, 158 Knight, Christopher C., 159, 177 knowledge (See also epistemology; God: knowledge of), 14, 19, 32, 43, 45ff, 52, 54, 56, 71, 79, 87, 90ff, 121, 147, 154, 161, 172, 174, 190f, 194 Knowles, Jeremy R., 12 Knox, Crawford, 159 Kuhn, Thomas, 33, 56, 71, 137 language, 7, 15, 86, 89, 96, 105, 126, 137, 152, 190 Laplace, Pierre, 69, 107 Laudato Si’, 148ff, 152f laws (of science), 107f, 110, 128, 130f, 159, 168, 173f, 176 Lawson, Finley, 4, 5 Lawson, Thomas, 76f Leftow, Brian, 179 Legare, Cristine, 77 Lennox, John, 189 Leopold, Aldo, 153 Lewis, C. S., 23 liberation theology, 85 life after death, 36f, 126, 201

222 life sciences, 32, 72 Lippmann, Walter, 125 Livingstone, David, 70, 109 Locke, John, 128 Loder, James, 87 Luckmann, Thomas, 130 Luther, Martin, 59, 128 Machiavelli, Niccolo, 127 MacIntyre, Alasdair, 138 Martin, Hilary, 211 Masterman, Margaret, 137f, 143 mathematics, 98, 102, 106 matter, 32, 51, 61, 98, 160, 171ff, 181 Maturana, Humberto, 159 Maximus the Confessor, 154 McCabe, Herbert, 60 McCauley, Robert, 76f McGinn, Colin, 161 McGrath, Alister, 1, 2, 70, 186, 189, 215 metanarratives, 23ff metaphysics, 60, 71, 138, 164, 213 Midgley, Mary, 14, 16, 186 Milbank, Alison, 53 Milbank, John, 60 mind (See also consciousness), 4, 126, 168ff, 171ff, 174f, 177, 184, 198 miracles, 97, 184 modernity, 125f, 128, 130, 132f Moltmann, Jürgen, 85 monism, 180 Monod, Jacques, 158 Moore, Aubrey, 158f multiverse, 3, 5f, 102, 111ff Murdoch, Iris, 140 Murphy, Nancey, 76, 139, 161 mysticism, 139, 142 myth, 7, 76, 79, 84, 89, 138 narrative, 2f, 5, 7, 10f, 14, 22ff, 25f, 41, 98, 186 Nartey, Emmanuel, 3 natural law, 128

Index natural sciences, 11, 13, 18f, 22, 32f, 51f, 54, 60f, 67, 72f, 79, 91, 106, 109, 119, 128, 151, 172, 214 natural selection (See also evolution), 112, 161f natural theology, 3, 7, 42, 53, 69, 72, 103, 105f, 106, 109, 114, 121, 133, 139, 210, 212 naturalism, 18, 20, 24, 30, 38, 41, 69, 133, 172, 176f nature, 7, 19, 24, 33, 53, 71f, 96, 106, 108f, 147ff, 150f, 153ff, 158, 163, 180, 213 book of, 70, 109, 128, 131f suffering in, 162 neo-orthodoxy, 70 Nestorianism, 179, 182 Netherlands, 30, 34ff, 40 neuroessentialism, 197 neuroscience, 6, 32, 57, 76, 133, 197 New Atheism (See also atheism), 25, 40, 45 Newberg, Andrew, 6 Newton, Isaac, 69, 106, 107, 141, 180, 183 non-overlapping magisteria, 70, 123 Nowak, Martin, 162 Numbers, Ronald L., 58 Oliver, Simon, 60 Olson, Richard, 43 ontology, 20, 22, 90, 92, 173, 180, 181ff, 184 Ortega y Gasset, José, 22 oscillating Universe, 111 Padgett, Alan, 176 paleogenetics, 72 Paley, William, 56, 103, 106f panentheism, 58, 85, 159, 173ff Pannenberg, Wolfhart, 59, 85, 90 pantheism, 58, 159, 175 parapsychology, 136, 142 pastoral theology, 2, 83-87, 89, 92, 216 Pattison, Stephen, 86f

Index Peacocke, Arthur, 6, 57, 58, 141, 158ff, 188, 206, 208, 215 Peacocke, Rosemary, 207f personal identity, 27, 88 perspectivism, 1 Peters, Ted, 6, 212 Pew Foundation, 74f philosophical theology, 62, 216 philosophy, 56, 60f, 66, 70, 72f, 79, 90, 92, 136ff, 143, 153, 158, 187, 213f of colour, 143 of science, 33, 78, 149, 190 of technology, 77 practical, 44 Pieper, Josef, 54 Plato, 59, 164 Plotinus, 159 pluralism, 130f pneumatology, 175f Polanyi, Michael, 71, 87 Polkinghorne, John, 57f, 113, 141, 160 Pollan, Michael, 163 Poole, Michael, 4, 188, 209 Pope Francis, 42, 148f, 152ff Popper, Karl, 141 postmodernism, 7, 87f, 192 Price, Geoffrey, 207 Primas, Hans, 180, 181, 185 Process theology, 85 providence, 103, 108, 139, 151 psychology, 45, 76, 133, 136, 139, 143 psychology of religion, 6 psychosis, 142 Putnam, Robert D., 36ff quantum physics, 4f, 11, 33, 57, 72, 98, 111, 138, 142, 160, 168, 17984, 215 Racine, E., 197 Radda, George, 11 Reagan, Ronald, 40 reality, 1, 2, 13-23, 26, 33, 43ff, 47, 51, 131, 133, 139, 163, 172, 176, 179ff, 185f, 191, 200ff

223 reason, 24, 41, 52, 107f, 121, 123, 128, 197 redemption (See also salvation), 90 reductionism, 7, 18, 21, 26, 57, 61, 142, 170, 174, 179f, 202 Rees, M., 110f Reformation, 31, 120, 128ff, 213 relativism, 191 relativity theory, 47, 142, 209 religion (selective entry) (See also contemplative religion), 2f, 6, 17f, 20ff, 25, 30ff, 37ff, 54, 74, 76f, 79, 83, 119ff, 124ff, 129, 130, 132f, 191f, 209, religious experience, 6, 126, 139, 144 religious studies, 2, 46, 55, 61f, 74, 187, 189, 191, 214, 216 Ressourcement, 60 resurrection, 99, 113, 184, 185 revealed theology, 105f, 110, 114 Revelation, 3, 108f, 114, 128, 131f, 133, 148, 150, 155, 182 Revol, Fabien, 4 Reynhout, Kenneth A., 91f Ricoeur, Paul, 3, 84-92, 96, 98 Riess, Adam, 112 Ritchie, Sarah Lane, 4, 161 ritual, 75, 77, 124, 129 Roberts, John G., 129, 131f Robinson, Andrew, 210 Robinson, Jeffrey, 211 Rogers, Martin, 189 Rolston, Holmes III, 163 Ruse, Michael, 43, 45 Rushdie, Salman, 40 Russell, Robert J., 31, 150f, 160 Sabellianism, 183 Sagan, Carl, 43 salvation, 7, 113 Schaefer, Donovan, 77 Schmidt, Brian, 112 Scholz, Heinrich, 20 science (selective entry) (See also life sciences; natural sciences;

224 scientism), 14, 17, 19f, 31, 33, 55, 78, 121f, 128, 141, 179 biological sciences, 6, 11f limits of, 22, 107f, 132f, 196, 199, 201 methods of, 7, 16, 18, 32, 66, 133, 139, 141 Science and Religion Forum, 1, 3ff, 30, 45ff, 57, 67, 124, 164, 187ff, 206ff, 209ff, 212, 214ff, science fiction, 79 Scientific Revolution, 128, 131 scientism, 7, 13f, 16f, 19, 22, 24ff scripture, 90, 108f, 114, 127f, 132, 149, 151 secularization, 2f, 25, 30, 36, 41, 74, 125ff, 128ff, 131, 133 self (See also personal identity), 7, 91, 97 selfishness, 194 sexuality, 133 Sheldrake, Rupert, 138, 142 Sherman, Jacob, 60 Simpson, Zachary, 171, 174 sin, 90, 96, 105, 199 Smedes, Taede, 67, 74 Smith, Adam, 127 Smith, Christian, 26, 76 Smith, James K. A., 75 Snow, C. P., 78, 190 socialism, 25 socio-biology, 72 sociology, 2, 23, 61, 76, 190 Sollereder, Bethany, 164 Sosis, Richard, 76 Soskice, Janet Martin, 60, 79 soteriology (See also salvation; redemption) 127 soul, 4, 105, 164, 179, 183, 197-202 immortality of, 149 Southgate, Christopher J., 160, 164 space, 5f, 110, 113 Spurway, Neil, 210 Standen, Anthony, 191 Stannard, Russell, 188, 210 Steiner, Rudolf, 139, 143

Index Straine, Gillian, 2, 216 suffering, 3, 83ff, 88, 98f, 126, 130, 162f Swimme, Brian, 151f Tao, 24 Taoism, 120 Taylor, Charles, 24f, 74, 125, 129f technology, 2, 6f, 32, 45, 66, 68, 73, 77f, 80, 192, 194, 216 technoscience, 78 Templeton, 67, 72, 188f, 216 Thales of Miletus, 122 Thatcher, Margaret, 40 theism (See also panentheism; pantheism), 6, 30, 69, 72, 110, 139, 143, 163, 168, 175, 177 theodicy, 87, 162 theology (selective entry) (See also ecotheology; natural theology; pastoral theology; philosophical theology; theology of nature), 19, 44, 51, 55, 61, 139, 176, applied theology, 75 comparative theology, 74 of retrieval, 60 political theology, 75 theology of nature, 3, 106, 114, 150, 155, 211 Thouless, Robert, 140 time, 5, 110, 130 Tipler, Frank J., 113 Tolkien, J. R. R., 23 Torrance, Thomas F., 19, 59 Trinity, 144, 153f, 181ff, 185 United Kingdom, 40, 41, 67 United States of America, 30, 34, 36, 38, 42f, 47, 67, 74, 78, 127, 153 van Huyssteen, Wentzel, 123f, 161 Visala, Aku, 76 Wallace, B. A., 73 Ward, Keith, 189 Watts, Fraser, 3, 76 wave-particle duality, 181 Weber, Max, 130

Index Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale, 22 Westphal, Jonathan, 138, 143 White, Lynn, 147-52ff Whitehead, A. N., 138, 151 Whitehouse, Harvey, 77 Wilkinson Microwave Anisotropy Probe, 112 Wilkinson, David, 3, 211

225 Wilkinson, George, 140 Wilks, Yorick, 137, 138 Williams, Rowan, 60, 97, 137, 141 Wittgenstein, Ludwig, 137 Woodhead, Linda, 39, 40 Wynn, Mark, 7 Yong, Amos, 75 Zoroastrianism, 148 Zygon, 30, 43, 45ff, 57, 137, 215