A Thinking Reed

"Man is but a reed, the most feeble thing in nature, but he is a thinking reed" – Blaise Pascal

Directing traffic between science and theology

The other day I asserted that Christian theology still hasn’t fully absorbed the insights of Darwinism, even where it claims to have accepted them. This Christian Century article provides a good overview of some attempts to do just that.

I think there are two issues that stand out as particular challenges for theology here: the nature of divine action and providence, and the nature of human beings. This article deals mostly with the former, though it touches on the deeper connection between human beings and the rest of creation that Darwinian science discloses.

There is also an epistemic question here of exactly what kind of status theological and scientific claims have and, in cases of apparent conflict, which should give way. Ultra-fundamentalists might say that theological claims always trump scientific claims, whereas many secularists would say the opposite. But most of us, I think it’s safe to say, reside somewhere in the middle: we recognize that new knowledge of the physical world requires at least some modification (or at least re-interpretation) of certain traditional theological claims. On the other hand, a lot of dubious claims have been passed off as the assured findings of “Science,” which are nothing of the sort.

A concrete example might help us see the problem a bit more clearly. Much traditional theology taught that death was, in some mysterious sense, the result of sin. This could be understood in different ways: death could be seen as the punishment for our disobedience of God’s commands, or it could be seen as the inevitable result of humanity’s turning away from communion with God (or some combination of the two).

The picture given to us by evolutionary theory, however, tells a very different story. In this telling the existence of death long preceded human sin, or the existence of human beings for that matter. In fact, given our understanding of the evolutionary process, it seems that death is something like an inextricable aspect of the process by which new forms of life come to be. Far from being a punishment imposed from without, death is a necessary condition of human existence (at least in this world).

How theology negotiates this apparent conflict has far-reaching implications. It affects our understanding of providence, sin, atonement, and redemption. For instance, if death is, in some sense, a “natural” part of existence rather than a punishment for sin, does this affect how we understand what it is Christ is supposed to save us from and how he does it? Or what does the omnipresence of death say about God’s power and goodness?

There isn’t, it seems to me, any single “correct” way for proceeding here. The Christian metaphysic (or narrative if you prefer) isn’t a single monolithic whole, but a mutable cluster of views some of which are more central than others. To what extent it can be changed without surrendering something essential is something about which there’s been a lot of disagreement. Reinhold Niebuhr, for instance, has been alternatively praised as providing a successful re-interpretation of some central Christian claims, and criticized as someone who essentially abandoned those claims. (See, for instance, Was Reinhold Niebuhr a Christian?)

At the same time, Christians looking to be up-to-date have at times been too quick to embrace claims that are properly speaking philosophical rather than scientific. A lot of revisionist theology which denies God’s intervention or the possibility of miracles falls into this category; it has embraced a philosophical naturalism which isn’t mandated by scientific findings, even if it may be compatible with it.

In his short book An Examined Faith, the Protestant ethicist and theologian James Gustafson identifies three strategies theologians use in dealing with scientific and other “secular” sources of knowledge: rejection, absorption, and accommodation. Rejection subsumes scientific claims to theological ones, whereas absorption does the reverse (perhaps with the creation of a “nature spirituality”). But accommodation of some kind remains, for Gustafson, the most viable strategy.

Within the “accommodationist” strategy Gustafson distinguishes between approaches in which scientific findings primarily limit religious claims and those which authorize them. Limiting approaches means, essentially, that religious claims need to be re-visited primarily where they conflict, or appear to conflict, with the well-founded findings of science. Authorizing approaches go further in using science to inspire or shape the character of theology. For instance, a limiting approach might acknowledge that biological and other sciences show certain things to be true about human beings, but deny that they give an exhaustive account of human nature. An authorizing approach might, on the other hand, seek to provide an overview of human nature entirely legitimated or inspired by scientific considerations (see Gustafson, pp. 90-91).

As Gustafson says

Few, if any, Christian thinkers use only one criterion or rule to direct the flow of traffic in any intersection where theology and ethics meet scientific and other secular traffic. Interest in different Christian doctrines determines which secular traffic has to be directed, as I have shown above. Accommodation to traffic from astrophysics is different from accommodation to psychoanalysis: the former, prima facie, intersects with the doctrine of creation, the latter with theological anthropology. (p. 91)

A further implication, I think, is that there is no general a priori way of determining how “science” should relate to “theology.” Rather, the approach should be more piecemeal, by identifying specific doctrines which seem to intersect with particular scientific findings (be they physical, biological, social, etc.), each of which may be more or less well-founded. The challenge is that it would seem to require that religious thinkers be well-informed about particular scientific disciplines and findings and not rely exclusively on generalized characterizations of what “science” does and doesn’t do.

10 responses to “Directing traffic between science and theology”

  1. I think you’re right that we’re still having to take in the implications of evolutionary theory. I don’t think the existence of death prior to human beings, however, necessarily undoes the central theological contention that we have become SUBJECT to death. In finding our ur-ancestors becoming aware and then responding to the reality of death not in faith in God but in alienation from God, we have been shaped and formed thusly, and become subject to sin (alienation from God) and death (rather than faith that God holds us and will find a way for us) as such.

  2. “Accommodation to traffic from astrophysics is different from accommodation to psychoanalysis: the former, prima facie, intersects with the doctrine of creation, the latter with theological anthropology.”

    Interestingly, in the psychoanalysis of the ‘postmodern’ Freudian Jacques Lacan and Zizek, creation and anthropology are both addressed, so it gets even more interesting when Christians attempt to engage his thought.

  3. Christopher, I think that’s a promising approach to take. Death has become menacing for us in a way that perhaps it wouldn’t have been for our ancestors had they not fallen. That strikes me as an example of maintaining the theological meaning of the doctrine.

    Eric, that makes good sense since, ultimately, anthropology and creation are linked.

  4. We tend to forget there was an early phase of Hebrew theology at which the Jews were monotheists and had already incorporated the Genesis stories but had not yet adopted the apocalyptic ideas inspired by Persian religion or ideas of an afterlife connected with the idea of the soul.

    During that time, for the Jews, the Almighty Creator God had created us and left us with death in some mysterious way as related in Genesis.

    Their thought and theologizing incorporated a finite human existence that begins with birth and ends, once and for all, with natural death.

    Are not the Psalms from this time? Is not the 23rd Psalm from this time? And are not Job and Ecclesiates from this time?

    And, really, is not every believer who holds that, for all of us, this is the one and only life there is faced with that same theological puzzle of the meaning of evil in a life that cannot outlive it?

    I gather that would include most contemporary Jews as well as pretty much all Christain theological liberals, at least.

    And I am not actually aware of any theodicy that does not essentially reject that very same death-bound horizon.

    So if that perspecitve is accepted, perhaps there can be no theodicy?

    Which, after all, appears to be the point of the book of Job, no?

    So far as I know, Christian thinkers have not paid a lot of attention to Jewish thought on the matter since “After Auschwitz.” And that’s a pity.

    And, so far as I know, Christians of liberal persuasion do not much address the question, at all.

  5. By the way. Have you read this?

    http://www.stjohns.presbychurch.net/Sermons/god_and_altzheimers_2_06_05.htm

    We are not ethereal souls leasing space in a temporary body; we are made and we are shaped by how we experience the world in our skin, our flesh, our hands, our eyes, our mouth, our smell and our ears.

    This is how God made us, and this is how we will continue after death.

    I believe there is a bodily resurrection yet ahead of us, a restoration to wholeness for all of God’s beloved creation – but a wholeness that incorporates and makes use of our wounds.

    Jesus walked among the disciples and showed them his hands, his feet, even the slice in his side.

    Thomas touched that place and found out that while it existed, it did not matter to Jesus’ ability to be present with him and the rest of the disciples.

  6. Well the OT is certainly aware of the problem of evil (as in the Psalms of lament), specifically the problem of why the wicked prosper and the innocent suffer. And there does seem to be a trajectory toward seeing some kind of eschatological age as God’s ultimate answer to that. Most modern theodicies presuppose, if they don’t make central, the idea that God will right every wrong post-mortem.

    Maybe, as has been suggested by various folks, our heightened sense of individuality makes the immortality of the race, clan or nation insufficient consolation. (A problem which is intensified if we think the race itself is ultimately doomed!)

    I do, though, think that a view which holds that the value of things resides in their existence for whatever time they exist is worth thinking about. Was the existence of the dinosaurs pointless because they ceased to exist? Or does God delight in the existence of a multiplicity of creatures, some of which must die out to make room for others?

  7. But surely Christianity, and Judaism both before and after it came by the apocalyptic perspective, agree that finite beings have intrinsic worth.

    Were it not so it is hard to see how there could be a problem of evil, anyway.

    Are you suggesting some sort of incompatibility between seeing that and yet holding that evil poses a problem that cannot be overcome unless death is overcome?

  8. No, I’m not proposing an incompatibility. I’m just wondering aloud (well, metaphorically aloud) if you could have a theodicy that affirmed the value of individual finite beings without positing an after-life. Maybe there could be a distinction drawn between the “objective” worth of an individual life and that worth of that life to the individual himself. (I’m pretty sure these can’t be rigorously separated, though.)

    In other words, even if there was no afterlife, God might be justified in deeming the world worth creating simply by virtue of the value of the existence of its inhabitants for whatever time they exist. This may run aground on the fact that many of those inhabitants would not deem their own existence to have been “worth it,” however.

  9. Maybe this will make my point clearer: much Christian theology has been comfortable with the supposition that non-human animals have no afterlife and yet it still affirms that they have some value. This, despite the fact that many of them suffer horribly in this life. So, in principle, could this cover humans too? (Or, as I prefer, should the supposition of post-mortem existence be extended “downward” to cover animals?)

  10. Those ancient Jews surely did, and held as well that a long, healthy life, with a successful and thriving family were genuine goods and essential parts of a happy human life.

    Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics is all about what makes up a good life, it being understood from first to last that he is talking about our little finite, earthly life, assumed to be a once-thru affair.

    Most ancient ethics is concerned with just that question what is a good and happy life, within that same finite horizon.

    I think it is no accident that, in the ancient as well as the modern worlds, death is a challenge to the goodness of life (rather than just a mystery or a puzzle when contrasted with the gods’ happy immortality) only on the understanding that the world, life, and the conditions of life are all the doing of an infinite Creator who could well have had things quite otherwise.

    In short, the Problem of Evil is distinctly a problem of monotheism, just as it appears in philosophy of religion.

    But you are right that it is generally human death that is so regarded within that context.

    That distinction accompanies another between the nature of the human soul and that of animal souls, wherein it is maintained that the human soul is rational while animal souls are not.

    Supposed significant differences involve being able to think and communicate, and being a moral subject. But another, and perhaps more relevant, supposed difference is the knowledge of universal mortality, and one’s own mortality.

    Still, is it not the whole of nature that is fallen? Will not the lion lie down peacefully with the lamb, one day?

    Those who make most of the Fall and the ultimate Redemption of the whole frame of the world insist that carnivorous habits will pass with this fallen frame.

    I don’t know their views well enough to do more than guess, but that at least seems to suggest animals, too, will live forever in the glorified natural world to come.

    Though I am not aware of anyone who suggests that not only the human but also the animal dead shall rise.

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