FOR SOME time now, given the noisiness of the “new atheists” we have been pondering a SEARCH issue on Science and Faith to help readers engage in a conversation, rather than an altercation, in this area, seeing the two as complementary to one another in our understanding of reality.
FOR SOME time now, given the noisiness of the “new atheists” we have been pondering a SEARCH issue on Science and Faith to help readers engage in a conversation, rather than an altercation, in this area, seeing the two as complementary to one another in our understanding of reality.Having gathered a variety of material for this issue, it is a joy to introduce it with a special article by Keith ward, former Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford University and noted writer in this field. (His latest book, Love is His Meaning, is also featured among our book reviews. )Theodicy is a key area for pondering in the conversation, since so often the question arises “How can God – if he exists – allow suffering in his creation?” There is no neat answer to the question, as is pointed out by Cathriona Russell in her article “Creation: an invitation to share God’s love”. However william Olhausen in his “Christian apologetics and the challenge of science” shares some helpful observations.Engaging both head and heart in this area is not easy, and our contributors have done so in different ways. Michael Fuller of Edinburgh University puts his passion into insisting on conversation, not conflict, reminding us that many scientists are also faithful Christians. Mark Gallagher, recently graduated from CITI, chides church people for making little attempt to engage scientists in discussion, relating to the symbol and metaphor of scientific discourse. Gillian Straine, a cancer survivor herself, brings her own experience to bear on how prevailing metaphors surrounding cancer help or hinder the sufferer to understand themselves as made in the image of God.Moving outside the specifically Christian sphere of thinking, it is good to welcome the Muslim cosmologist M. Basil Altaie of Yarmouk University in Jordan to our team.. His reflections on modern cosmological thinking in relation to the Qu’uran and developments in Islamic philosophy are enlightening.This issue concludes with an In Retrospect by Prof John Bartlett on his onetime mentor in TCD, Professor H F woodhouse, and a Liturgica page by Dean Tom Gordon. A striking collection of book reviews completes the summer
offering. Enjoy the read!
Contents
Aspects of Science and Faith
THE SIX essays in this issue offer six different approaches to bringing scientific understanding and religious faith together in positive and mutually enhancing ways. we are fortunate to live in an age when scientific understandings of the universe are growing rapidly, and both in medicine and technology are transforming the way we live. The availability of amazing surgical treatments and the almost universal use of mobile phones and computers have become facts of everyday life that past generations could hardly imagine.
THE ANGLOPHONE debate that pitches creationisms against the empirical sciences has not helped Christians in general to rediscover all that is startlingly implied in the doctrine of creation. I do not propose in this paper to enter directly into that fray, but rather to give an account of the promise and fragility of creation, which are aspects of creation that are uncovered in, and not apart from, the dialogue with sometimes rival cosmologies.
The doctrine of creation is irreducibly linked theologically to that of salvation, nevertheless it does call for a distinct treatment.2 The creation narratives set in order a multiplicity of events but they are also part of a beginning that does not belong to the sequence that it inaugurates. They point back towards an initiation that remains ungraspable. In the natural sciences too, the physical origins of the universe cannot be reconstructed empirically; they could be said to be a part of primordial time not historical time. In consequence any perceptions of convergences or rivalries between models of creation and probability in physics, for example, are not simple to adjudicate.
A REMARKABLE phenomenon of recent decades has been the propagation of the idea that ‘science’ and ‘religion’ must be thought of in terms of rivalry and disagreement, to the extent that some have even maintained them to be fundamentally incompatible.1 However, the idea that religion and science are, of necessity, mutually antagonistic is a myth. It is, to be sure, a myth which runs deep in western society today; indeed, as one scholar has put it, “The secular public, if it thinks about such issues at all, knows that organised religion has always opposed scientific progress ... the religious public knows that science has taken the leading role in corroding faith”.
Now it is, of course, the case that some forms of religious expression (notably, in the west, certain kinds of conservative Protestantism) pit themselves against some forms of science; and, similarly, some scientific commentators, notably those espousing a metaphysical position which is known as scientism – see later - pit themselves against religious belief. However, these groups should in neither case be seen as espousing views which religious or scientific practitioners are obliged to uphold. There is nothing that is essential to the practice of either religion or science that precludes the other.
This should not surprise us. A moment’s reflection enables us to see that ‘religion’ is a very wide-ranging, blanket term which covers ways of living that may or may not involve (for example) belief in a God or gods, ritual practices and observances, the use (in a variety of ways) of texts accorded sacred status, and so on. Similarly, ‘science’ is generally reckoned to involve fields of study as diverse as particle physics and palaeontology (let alone those social sciences which seek to understand all aspects of human life, including religious behaviour). what, if anything, these disparate pursuits might have in common – whether, for example, they all subscribe to some ‘scientific method’, and if so what that method looks like – is much discussed.
MODERN SCIENCE has challenged all religions. Scripture emphasising the role of the divine action in our physical world is thought to be outdated by those who consider the natural world to be sufficient unto itself. The concept of God as the creator and sustainer of the world diminished during the last four centuries. Further development of natural sciences has deepened the gap between science and faith. Many people consider that we can, and should, develop our own social systems; and some scientists such as the late Stephen Hawking believe that there is no need for a God to manage the universe.
Science seeks to provide a rational analysis of the natural world, while religion presents to us an eschatological destiny that goes beyond rationality. But ought everything in Nature to be understood rationally? Do we never dream to understand why we are here? No matter whether we are the result of natural evolutionary process or not, does our existence with such a wide gap in the cognitive ability between us and the rest of the animal kingdom suggest a merely rational explanation? Does our behaviour conform to the level of the high intelligence we possess?
Two gifts
According to the understanding of a devout Muslim intellectual there can be no conflict between correct science and true religion. Science is the gift of the Creator who has provided us with a high level of cognitive ability in order to see the glory of his creation and to use what we discover for our welfare and happiness, enabling us properly to worship Him. Religion is a gift that is intended to guide people toward good deeds, general welfare and care for everything in this world. Science in the eyes of a devout Muslim is a precious way to understand God’s creation and, therefore, may help us realise how the afterlife is possible. At this point the Qur’ān orders us to search the Earth seeking knowledge about how creation began in order to realise the possibility of our resurrection:
THE RELATIONSHIP between science and religion is a key area of human thought and an active one in the academy today. Over the last few decades, we have focused on defining that relationship, exploring the doctrine of creation and divine action, yet leaving many areas under-explored. Further, there has been frustration that the work of science and religion remains marginal within the academy, and some have warned of the dangers of not working in a cross-disciplinary way, and of failing to engage with lay people.
Michael Fuller, in a paper examining the ways that science and religion might relate in the future, suggested that there might be opportunities when focusing on a practical issue2. In this paper, I present an illustration of this approach: science and religion meeting over a shared interest in cancer.
Cancer is an illness which provokes human suffering, not only physically but also psychologically and socially. In what follows, I take the focus to be the human experience of illness, asking whether the experience of suffering has epistemological value in the dialogue between science and religion. The outcomes suggest that such an exercise can produce new insights of value to those suffering and to those caring for them. I will show, using a hermeneutical process suggested by Paul Ricoeur, that new metaphors for cancer can emerge which augment theology and theodicy. This leads to empowerment for those suffering and acts as an aid to storytelling, which is increasingly recognised as a key component of healing.
Thus I will argue that the epistemological value of this academic foray lies in genuine human experiences of healing.
Indeed, this paper is based on my own healing journey, undertaken following a diagnosis and successful treatment of advanced Hodgkin’s Lymphoma when I was twenty-one. During my training for ordination in the Church of England, and aware that my experience may impact negatively on my ability to pastor, I begin to trace my own story, searching for new language to explore the science of the cancer which had grown in my body.
Christian apologetics and the challenge of science
ALISTER McGrath, a scientist and theologian, is clear that no war exists between science and religion. However, the problem many of us face in our own communities is that this myth has been peddled so successfully by Richard Dawkins and other leading neo-atheists that a great many people feel justified in avoiding any serious engagement with the Christian faith safe in the knowledge that science has not only won the war but has become the great hope for salvation – in this world, if not the next!
Kindly agnostics may concede that they “enjoy the traditions around Christmas – for children, of course”. They may also concede that some sort of love ethic must be a good thing – “but I don’t have to believe all the superstitious stuff or go to church to be a good person”. The nub of the problem for many lay people is this: science deals with observable data and Christian faith is concerned, in large part, with unobservable data. Thus there is no evidence for Christian faith and so Christianity cannot be true. QED. The attempt by Christians to defend the truth or reasonableness of Christian faith through explanation and argumentation is called ‘apologetics’.
Anglican apologetics in the later 20th century
For much of the twentieth century theologians in the west were struggling to come to terms with the intellectual challenge posed by logical positivism. Such was the hostility of the intellectual climate for faith in Oxford that Christian thinkers such as C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkein made their apology for Christianity through the writing of elaborate parables: The Narnia Chronicles and The Lord of the Rings trilogy respectively. Importantly, Lewis and Tolkein were attempting to defend an orthodox understanding of Christianity. A generation later, a different approach was taken by prominent Anglican theologians John A. T. Robinson and Don Cupitt. Cupitt’s work proved to be hugely influential for a sizeable minority of Anglican clergy who came under his influence through the 1970s and 1980s. The legacy of the so-called ‘Sea of Faith’ movement extended around the Global North of the Anglican Communion, most notably in the thinking of Bishop Jack Spong of The Episcopal Church, who hailed the Jesus Seminar as North America’s own expression of the Sea of Faith. At the same time, Bishop David Jenkins and Archbishop John Habgood sought to take seriously these more ‘radical’ accounts of Christianity whilst also allowing for the intellectual credibility of a more recognisably orthodox faith in God.
Living words for the Lab and the Church - seeking metaphors that connect
IT IS AXIOMATIC that there are inherent misunderstandings in the dialogue between science and faith. For beneficial dialogue to be pursued between the two, the way dialogue is carried out must be re- addressed. My question is: could it be the theologian who needs to deal generously with the scientific researcher, and not vice versa?
The basic problem between the disciplines is a linguistic one. Linguistic study is not the concern of scientific disciplines, so any dialogue with the language of science by the theologian must use a generous hermeneutic, initiated by the theologian, and followed through by the scientist to engage disciplines fully. The language of religion and faith allows for creativity, imagination and beauty, or ‘art’ to be expressed. Conversely, the scientific language in current interdisciplinary dialogue is that of the technician only. while research science is an art in the lab, the language through which it is reported does not allow this art to be expressed. The ‘art’ necessary for all research in science is often hidden behind the formulaic structure of the published academic document.
The misrepresentation of science as having an inferior language most often occurs because dialogue is premised on a false equivalency: theology engages in dialogue with the scientific technician, not the scientific researcher. To formulate beneficial solutions to this linguistic impasse, a new understanding of shared tools such as metaphor and symbol in the arsenals of both disciplines is essential.
The living language of science
Science in the lab is lived as a creative and imaginative art, yet it is predominantly reported in technical language which does not demonstrate this. Chemistry publications, for example, communicate information in diagrams, charts, or some form of visual representation of interpreted numerical results alongside verbal language suitable for results discussion. Methodology is discussed in technical language only, and although not included in the body of the text, it forms the core of the paper. The introduction and conclusion of a paper use some other linguistic tools, but in an efficient manner.3 This issue is becoming better understood, but there is still a lack of literature around the language of empirical science.
THE VEN. Andrew Pike’s words at Professor woodhouse’s memorial service (St Anselm’s Church, Vancouver, 23 Oct. 2010) – ‘an honest and moral man who shunned arrogance or falseness’ - ring absolutely true. I first met him in December 1965 when interviewed for the Junior Lectureship in Divinity at Trinity College, Dublin; after the interview but before the result was known, with characteristic spontaneous generosity he invited me and my wife, as strangers to Dublin, to his home for dinner. From then until his retirement he was unremittingly kind and supportive, as indeed to all his students. He was not a always relaxed in debate; I heard one day fierce altercation next door, the door opened, a future senior officer of the Anglican Communion departed slamming it angrily; and an anxious-faced Regius Professor appeared, saying, ‘John, John, I think I have been a little hard on that young man.’
Eric belonged essentially to the older Church of Ireland. Born on 16 May 1912, son of the Revd Hugh Parker woodhouse, he was educated at Portora School, and at Trinity College, Dublin, where he read Classics and Mental and Moral Science (1931), English Literature (1932), ending with Modern History and Political Science; he became a Scholar and got his BA in 1934. Theological training for ordination followed, during which he won a number of prizes, and he attained his B.D. in 1937. He was ordained deacon (1937) and priest (1938) in the Diocese of Down. Curacies at St Donard’s, Belfast (1937-39), and at Bangor (1840-44) were followed by incumbencies at Aghalee (1944 - 46) and Newtownards (1946-51), where he began research for his D.D. which he attained at TCD in 1952; he was justly proud of earning it by research rather than gaining it honoris causa. He told me he would sit begowned in his study so that visiting parishioners would through the window see him studying and leave him undisturbed! He held academic posts in Canada, at wycliffe College, Toronto (1951-54), the Anglican Theological College in Vancouver (Principal, 1954-59), and the University of King’s College, Halifax (1959-63), before returning to TCD in 1963 as Regius Professor of Divinity (1963-82).
Liturgica 2: Gathering for Worship – the opening Gambit
APPARENTLY, shoes are the decisive factor in forming a first impression from whence any relationship progresses for good or ill. Polished or muddy, thoughtfully chosen or casually adopted, stylistically appropriate or visually disastrous, shoes define what follows on from the opening encounter.
So too with liturgy. There is much to be attended to in introduc- tions. words, gestures, symbols and movement are important and frame what is to follow. Yet in many experiences of worship these opening moments lack intentionality, preparation or thought. Bonho- mie, cold formality or an awkward use of gesture, posture and move- ment can indicate a lack of understanding as to the task in hand. The presider is caught between the perceived formality of liturgical lan- guage and a need to be cheery and engaging.
Not infrequently, an opening exchange from the chancel steps welcomes visitors, clarifies page numbers and proclaims that parish magazines are available at the back. But such is often a prelude to a retreat to altar or prayer desk where the atmosphere dramatically shifts. And so a stiffly-offered ‘The Lord be with you’ suggests the beginning of a fifty-minute ordeal to be got through rather than a joyous celebration of expectation, focus and joy.
The task could hardly be more challenging. Each member of the gathered assembly comes with concerns ranging from school fees to the fact that the cat was worryingly sick the previous evening. whilst the uniqueness of each worshipper is to be cherished, the presider is called at the beginning of worship to establish the Body as a gathered community rather than a disparate collection of individuals and individualisms.
And then there is the job of defining why this Sunday is different from the one before, namely, the engendering of expectation as to what the scriptures of this particular day might unfold. The presider is to establish a crucial relationship with the gathered assembly and thereby enable the members of the congregation to relate dynamically, warmly and expectantly each to the other. To this end opening words, gestures, symbols and movement need careful attention. Like shoes, they define what follows.
