Threads from Henry's Web

Category: Christianity

  • Faith and Imagination

    I haven’t been blogging here for the last couple of days. Even though I only do network management/maintenance work part time, every so often I end up with full days away from my computer, and thus likely to write much less. I must confess that my market value in technical work (I have my own company) is substantially higher than as a writer or lecturer. Thus I keep doing it.

    As always I was collecting ideas for blogging. I found the Rapture Ready site through Exploring Our Matrix, and my plan was to post something about my Revelation study guide on my company blog–and I still plan to do so. (How’s that for sneaking the commercial into the intro?)

    So this is my “Sunday morning, I got up early enough for work, but have time before church” blog! What caught my attention as I worked my way through the Rapture Ready site was a paragraph on evolution, and even there it was not what it said about evolution, but what it says about faith and imagination that really caught my interest:

    In my opinion, it takes less faith to believe that Almighty God created the earth in six days—He could have done it in six minutes if He chose to—than to believe that some cosmic explosion is responsible for the life and beauty all around us. The creation story is not in conflict with science; it is in conflict with any worldview in which God is absent. When I look at a newborn baby, I cannot imagine a big bang, but I can imagine a loving creator.

    “It takes less faith . . .” I’ve heard that one plenty of times. Someone explains some ridiculous conception of origins, and then says that it takes more faith than believing whatever they believe about origins. Now whether you agree with me on the theory of evolution or not, I’d like you to consider whether that is an argument you’d like to use.

    Is there some benefit somewhere in believing the thing that takes less faith? “1Now faith is the substantial nature of things we hope for, the clear conviction of things we don’t see.” — Hebrews 11:1, my translation. There are really two elements here, the first is faith and its value, and the second is “things we don’t see.” I’ll get to that in a moment.

    Regarding faith, however, I have a second question. If you believe God did it, how can there be a difference in the amount of faith it requires to believe in a particular way in which God did it? Apparently for the author of the Rapture Ready web site, it is much easier to believe in a literal creation week. But somehow he finds the Big Bang difficult to comprehend. (Since I’m not really trying to debate evolution here, I’ll ignore the fact that the Big Bang is not a part of the theory of evolution, well, at least mostly ignore it.)

    But if God could make the world in six minutes if he chose, why not six seconds? Why not a fraction of a second? Why not in no time at all? The point I’m trying to make is that if God is omnipotent, or something so close to it that we can’t tell the difference, then there is no difference in the probability that he might use any particular way. If I see a complex creation of human ingenuity, I will assume that it was assembled one part at a time in some logical order. That’s because humans are limited. But if I assume a device that can create whole machines instantly, I would no longer be able to look at an assembled machine and make such an assumption.

    There are no probabilities with God. We can’t say, based solely on theology, what God can or can’t do. That’s what omnipotence is all about. So theologically it truly shouldn’t take any different amount of faith to believe that God accomplished his will through one means or another. God can do it in whatever manner he chose.

    In addition, there is certainly no value in believing the thing that takes less faith. Bluntly for me the “low faith” option is to just accept that the world is, and not worry about its origins. I’m actually quite capable of doing that. Christians might ask if I’m not really defaulting to a “high faith” option of believing that everything came into existence by pure chance. No, I would not be. Some people seem to have problems with unanswered questions. I’m fine with saying, “Here’s the universe. I’m clueless as to why it’s here, but here it is.” It happens that my faith goes beyond that, but that’s another thing. Amongst the various ways in which God could have done it, I see no difference in the faith required to believe any particular one.

    But then we get to imagination. I think spirituality requires some imagination. I don’t really know all that much about any spiritual realm. I frequently disappoint atheist or agnostic friends with my lack of effort to prove any of the things I believe–by faith. You see, they are “not seen” and I don’t try to pretend that they really are seen. So in that gap there is some room for imagination.

    People have imagined things in the spiritual realm for millenia. Descriptions of angels and demons, of God’s home in heaven or the place of torment in hell, and all the various ways God accomplishes things–all these are products of imagination. I believe that there is a spiritual something–we often use “spiritual reality” but that sounds like an oxymoron to me–behind the things that I imagine, but I suspect (or imagine?) that what is, in a spiritual sense, is so much beyond my imagination that I would find it not only hard, but impossible to imagine. MercyMe may only be able to imagine (I love the song), but I can’t even do that.

    I think these are two arguments that should be dropped from our vocabulary. We can’t measure the faith required to believe God did things a particular way, because he is equally capable of using any way he chooses. If we could measure the faith, there is no reason to believe that the means requiring less faith would be better. Our imaginations aren’t the measure of what is true or what is possible. We can only imagine, and we do it poorly.

    I have faith because, well, I just do. I imagine because it’s a great joy to do so. Neither prove anything.

  • Feeling Wonder, Wanting to Know

    This is one of those Sunday morning quick posts, because I’m feeling it right now. As a note to my critics, I’ll be off to church in a bit, and that’s partly what got me thinking about this topic. I have been gravitating more and more toward a service at a church downtown that offers weekly communion. Over the years I’ve migrated from a church that celebrated communion quarterly, to the standard United Methodist monthly, to the point now where I find that too rare. Once I found a church service that offered the Eucharist on a weekly basis, I felt the pull!

    Since I am often visiting other churches, I get to take advantage of this from time to time, and now it looks like I may be doing some teaching there, so that will be great. Why? As the incarnation has become more and more firmly placed at the center of my theology, the Eucharist has gravitated toward the center of my liturgy. I think most Christian theologians will understand that. It’s not that the incarnation was ever unimportant, but in my personal theological reflection it has become the antidote to more and more potential problems and the answer to more and more questions.

    There’s a mystery and a wonder in this celebration that becomes greater as one both reflects theologically and dives into the event spiritually. Even when the liturgy is badly done, an unfortunately frequent occurrence in Methodist churches, I feel the sense of mystery and wonder. There is nothing quite like trying to wrap one’s mind and spirit around the concept of infinite God combined with human flesh in that 1+1=2 event to open one’s spiritual awareness.

    Yesterday I blogged about an “unseemly glee”, and it appears that I may have been less clear that I would have wished. Commenter Larry B notes:

    I think you bring up a good point here, but I also think you overstated your case a bit here. Christians aren’t the only ones guilty of the type of feeling you describe here. I would postulate that all religions revel in the mystery of the unknown. Any encroachment on that pulls a little bit at a core sentiment for religion.

    First, I had no intention of suggesting that only Christians have such feelings. I comment on Christianity because I’m a Christian, and that’s what I know. While I have studied other faiths, particularly in the ancient near east, I cannot claim a similar level of knowledge. But to the best of the knowledge I have, Larry is quite correct here. The feeling is held in common over a broad range of religions. But there is a divide amongst adherents of religions, and here I want to comment on Christianity only again, between those who sense wonder and react negatively to exploration and discovery, and those who embrace both wonder and knowledge.

    Skipping a paragraph, let me quote again:

    I think you have just touched a little bit on common human nature hear where we have a yearning for mystery.

    True, but it is not the yearning for mystery that I deplore, but rather the sense of glee against those who seek knowledge. The seekers are often filled with just as much wonder as anyone else; they simply don’t let wonder and yearning for mystery stop the seeking.

    Larry posted a third paragraph between these two that provides an excellent illustration. Go back there and read his comment to get the full connection.

    Let me illustrate my feeling of wonder and desire for knowledge. Of all the sciences, I probably understand geology the best, followed by astronomy. This is purely amateur knowledge gotten by personal reading and “informal field study” (read, I had roadside geology guides and went and looked at the stuff they pointed out). So when I go to Niagara Falls, I have a pretty fair idea of the geological history and a great deal of the geological future of the formation. For some reason, that knowledge doesn’t prevent any of the feeling of awe and wonder that I get in looking at it.

    To try another example, I have a little Shih Tzu dog named Barnabas. He’s quite a character, and he often fills me with quite a sense of wonder. I believe on the one hand that he is the product of hundreds of millions of years of evolution, and many thousands of years of domestication and breeding culminating in the formation of the breed I have. Professional breeders matched his parents. But I do not have a moment of problem calling him a gift of God or wondering at the creator. Barnabas was our son’s companion throughout his illness, encouraging, entertaining. James used to comment that it was hard to stay sad or angry when that dog was around.

    The two things are not in any way incompatible. That’s why I believe that those who try to throw mystery up in the face of scientists are missing the point. Many of those same scientists feel a sense of mystery, but at the same time they keep right on investigating. I believe what I missed in my post yesterday was drawing the line between mystery and wonder, which is quite compatible with seeking knowledge, and either the fear that mystery will go away, or the glee in throwing mystery in the face of those who seek knowledge.

    There is plenty of mystery in the universe. We have learned many things, but we are in no danger of running out of mystery even if we assumed that all sense of wonder was drained from a topic when it was investigated. Both fear and glee are not indicated. Wonder and seeking are.

  • Unseemly Glee at the Unknown

    What is it that makes Christians frequently rejoice when told that something is unknown?

    I received an e-mail today from Breaking Christian News, which discusses odd coincidences or perhaps weird happenings amongst organ transplant recipients. Now bluntly I don’t see that there is enough here to get excited about. I think the writers grossly underestimate the potential for personality change when one undergoes a traumatic experience, such as a major surgery. The illness before, the concern, and then the effort of recovery all make a very large impact. If one assumes changes in the personality of recipients, it would then not be all that unlikely that in some cases these changes would find some connection to the organ donor.

    But all of that could be studied. My hunch that this isn’t outside of the range of reasonable probability could be proven right or wrong. If proven wrong, one could study the process and the potential exists to determine just what is going on and how it works. In other words, this set of observations might either prove not to be significant, or could provide the basis for further research.

    The BCN article cites Dr. Danny Penman:

    In his article entitled, Can We Really Transplant a Human Soul? Penman writes, “Virtually every doctor and scientist will tell you the heart is a mere pump.” But now, “A few brave scientists have started claiming that our memories and characters are encoded not just in our brain, but throughout our entire body. Consciousness, they claim, is created by every living cell in the body acting in concert…Our whole body, they believe, is the seat of the soul; not just the brain. (BCN source is this article in the Daily Mail

    Now my point is not my personal feeling about this, which is admittedly not an educated opinion. I know very little about this field. My secondary point is that a scientist with one of the proper specialties, when confronted by this information would either use his existing knowledge to dismiss it if that was proper (for example, he knows the broader statistical picture, and thus knows that this is not significant) or he would find it significant, and then ask, “How does this work?”

    My primary point, however, is that many Christians, represented here by Breaking Christian News, have quite a different reaction. They don’t seem to think of the possibility that this represents a question to be answered. Rather, they hope it’s a mystery that science cannot solve.

    While as Christians we know how God created man in His image, it is nevertheless fascinating to see the scientific world confront the mysteries of life in a way that points to the power of an Almighty God.

    But this article doesn’t describe science confronting anything. It reveals speculation. At best, it would reveal questions that research ought to answer. This is the attitude that lies behind the God-in-the-gaps argument. It puts spirituality and religion where our ignorance lies. There is little reason to complain when skeptics describe religion as anti-knowledge if we place our most important ideas in areas of ignorance.

    This particular case is only an example. I’m confronted regularly with claims that science cannot possibly discover some particular thing, such as a natural explanation for the origin of life. These claims are not made in a neutral tone, nor are they made with disappointment that there is a boundary to knowledge. They are made with glee. Those who make them are glad that they have found something that science cannot do.

    I think there is a ignorance, fear, and envy represented by this type of claim.

    Ignorance, because people don’t understand what science does. Science explores the natural world. As long as something is in the natural world, don’t put up a stop sign. It won’t work. But science is not the study of everything. Excluding the supernatural, science cannot, as such, tell us what our ethical goals and standards should be. It can enlighten us as to the side effects of our decisions, and thus help us make ethical decisions. Science is also not designed to study the supernatural.

    Fear, because people don’t understand science. Scientists constantly discover and explain things that appear to the uninformed to be things that ought to be true mysteries. Ignorance reacts to what it does not know with fear. This is a good example of the difference between “is” and “ought.” We ought to investigate the unknown rather than cower away from it with fear. The instinct of many people is to avoid the danger as long as possible, a course of action that often results is greater disaster later.

    Envy, in that science explains things that used to be in the field of religion. Now they appear to be the province of very intelligent people. I see this type of rejoicing whenever people perceive that religion has “gotten a point” against science.

    The bottom line here is that ignorance is, well, ignorance, and thus is in constant danger of being overthrown. If we, as people of faith, truly believe that God is the ultimate creator of everything, that reason behind all the reasons, the “uncaused cause,” then we ought to rejoice at those who use their divinely created brains to discover more and more about God’s creation.

    I’m certain that God isn’t threatened. If he’s big enough to be the final cause, he can handle people figuring out where the seat of consciousness is in one species of creature on one planet in one solar system in one rather unexceptional galaxy. So it must be that some people of faith feel threatened. That, I suspect, can only come from not trusting God to be God, in other words, from seeing God as less than the creator of everything, as someone who might be dethroned by the next discovery.

    Or perhaps it’s just personal envy that someone else knows more than we do. Could be!

  • Historicity of Genesis 1-11

    I think those of us who are not all that conservative, as in moderates and liberals, do everyone a disservice with the admonition, “Don’t take it so literally.” Unless, of course, we break down “not literally” a bit further. The word “literal” has gotten muddied in the public understanding, and is often taken to mean “true,” so “not taking it so literally” is “not taking it so truthfully.” But more importantly, literal is (or should be) a fairly narrow category and “not literal” involves quite a number of possible types of literature.

    But there’s another question that non-scholarly readers of the Bible have pretty regularly: Just what is it that I’m supposed to get out of this? I’ve heard this many times teaching groups of United Methodist laypeople, well educated folks, but not Bible scholars. They’re pretty well convinced they shouldn’t take it too literally, but they are often uncertain where to go from there. Then they hear anyone who doesn’t take it literally condemned as one who doesn’t believe the Bible at all.

    To narrow that down again, just what historical information might one get out of a non-historical passage of scripture? In the case of Genesis 1-11, I have frequently noted that it is not narrative history. But “narrative history” is not necessarily equivalent to “no historical value at all.” There is more of a continuum (one of my favorite words) of possibilities for historical values, and a number of twists and turns.

    For example, I could say that a book is a work of fiction. Does that mean that it has no historical value? Consider these examples:

    • A fantasy novel/series, not set in the real world, such as Lord of the Rings
      One might extract information on the time of the writer, but vanishingly little information about the real world. Even extrapolating to the time of the writer based on his themes would be a difficult proposition.
    • A generic novel set in the real world, Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged
      This book is intentionally set in an indefinite future (from the time of writing) with generic titles for government officials such as head of state rather than president, for example. There are incidental references to real historical figures, numerous references to real places, but also numerous references to things that don’t exist. One would get a very skewed view of the United States if this is one’s source. Yet one would find historical data embedded in it.
    • A novel set in a realistic historical period, Rand’s The Fountainhead, for example.
      I’m distinguishing this category from historical novel in that presenting historical information is not part of the author’s intent, yet the setting is intended to reflect a specific period.
    • A historical novel
      Often a fictional story intended to present a realistic view of a period of history. While the actual characters and character-specific events are fictional, the background and the major historical events are generally intended as accurate.
    • A biography
      Generally this is intended as true, yet dialog and information about the subject may limit the general historical value.
    • A history with a mission
      Portrayal of a period of history intended to present a particular philosophy of history, or the viewpoint of a particular group or something similar.
    • An objective (wishfully) history
      In this case, the author intends to write a sequence of events from an objective point of view in order to correctly portray those events, not accomplish some philosophical goal. Absolute objectivity is impossible, I believe. I’m speaking about the intent.

    That gives a kind of summary of some of the levels of historicity that one might find. Consider the gospels briefly. It is fairly common in a course in the gospels (or one particular gospel) to note that the gospel writers did not set out with the intent of writing history. They are presenting a picture of Jesus. Many things that an objective historian (remember: intention!) might present are subordinated to the picture the writer is trying to portray. Some people here this comment as a statement that the gospels contain no historical information, or no reliable historical information. That is certainly never my intent in making the statement. I’m simply pointing out that we should expect the needs of the historian to be thoroughly subordinated to the needs of the biographer and even more so to the theologian.

    So let’s briefly look at some historical options in Genesis 1-11 now that we have some loose collection of ideas to which to compare.

    The first option, of course, is to regard this portion of scripture as narrative history. Many Christians have done so. This assumption leaves a number of details to be discussed. How detailed is that history? Is it chronological? This latter question can come in two parts: 1) Is it intended as sequential or descriptive in another sense? and 2) Is it intended to portray the passage of time accurately?

    Young earth creationists (YEC) would answer that it is narrative history, that it is intended to be sequential, and that the passage of time is intended as an accurate portrayal. This involves two aspects of the text. First, we have the days of Genesis 1 & 2. In the YEC position, these are literal, 24 hours days. But secondly we have the years in the genealogies of Genesis 5 & 11. Here the YEC position is that the years are real years, are accurately portrayed, and that there are no gaps in the genealogies, in other words they are complete.

    That’s a substantial number of claims. I would simply note that if you start from level ground, looking at the story in the context of ancient near eastern literature, none of these things is obvious. Nonetheless it is not my purpose to evaluate, so much as to point out the possibilities.

    Old earth creationists (OEC), differ from this in that while most of them would hold that the sequence is intended as true, the flow of time in the narrative is not even. For example, between Genesis 1:1 and Genesis 1:6 there would be nine billion+ years, while between Genesis 1:6 and 1:11 there would be a bit less than 4 billion years, while starting with verse 14 we have some difficulties with sequence. The genealogies are assumed to contain gaps so as to provide a longer history following Adam and Eve.

    Some OECs read the passage more symbolically, i.e. it contains valid historical information, but this information is presented in the form of symbols. Thus sequence, consistency of timing, and referent can be adjusted substantially while still maintaining that there is historical content.

    Finally, Christians who accept evolution, but not all theistic evolutionists, most commonly see the passage as mythology, i.e. God presents truth through the medium of the cosmology and the way in which such information was presented in that culture. Now one might think this means there is no historical information in the passage, but again that is not the case. It will still present information about how the world was understood in its time, and how the authors understood themselves and their relationship to God. That is historical information, even though that is not what is intended.

    Note that there are some Christian theistic evolutionists who would also see these passages symbolically and find some sense of a presentation of the way it happened in the passage. Thus there are a variety of views on the historical content of the material, and those views don’t precisely match. I have been extremely brief here and probably have left some holes. Hopefully readers will quibble with me in the comments to some can get filled in.

    Two additional notes:

    1. I don’t regard any of this as an issue with inerrancy. I know folks who accept Biblical inerrancy who have no problem with the idea of regarding a passage as symbolic or as myth, provided that one is assuming that was the way God intended it to be presented. Then the portion that would be inerrant is whatever message God intended to present in that medium. I don’t accept inerrancy, but I like my debates over the topic to relate to actual disputes!
    2. I distinguish here Christian theistic evolutions as there are numerous other options for those who are theists but not Christians, including ignoring the Bible completely. Deistic views of evolution similarly have no need of discussing how Genesis is understood. This is strictly a Christian or Jewish enterprise, and is different in nature for each of those groups.

  • New Poll: Who Does God Hate?

    With the number of posts on this topic, I’d like to get an idea of how readers of this blog think or feel about God and hate.

    You’ll find the poll in the right sidebar. Please feel free to comment either here or on the poll page itself. I suspect this one needs a comment or so!

  • Does God Hate Sinners?

    Peter Kirk reviews some comments to see if John Piper believes this. It’s a worthwhile, link-rich post. Check it out.

  • Is Sunday my Sabbath?

    As an ex-Seventh-day Adventist I get this question frequently. This fine Sunday morning while I’m playing with my computer, let me answer both yes and no!

    There are several ways in which ex-SDAs deal with the Sabbath. The first is to accept the Sunday as the Sabbath in accordance with the letter of the commandment, with the day changed by authority of Jesus or the apostles. I find this change unsubstantiated. The second is to apply the Sabbath command in some other way, but nonetheless explicitly, such as to the command to “rest in Christ.” I take neither of these approaches, though I think the second of them has some merit.

    For me, Jesus presented the ideal that all commands were to be taken in spirit and from the heart rather than in terms of simply following the letter. In fact, the letter could get in the way of living right if one didn’t find a way to soften it from time to time. The difference would be between an employer giving one employee a list of work rules, while telling another employee to work as he pleased, but to make sure to get certain tasks done.

    Thus for me the fourth commandment simply provides a guideline. That was how sacred time was delineated for a specific time, place, and group of people. I do not live at that time, nor in that place, nor am I part of that group to whom the specific command was specifically addressed. (However you read this, don’t assume I think I’m better than that group of people. Just different.)

    So in answer to the immediate follow-up question: Do you discard the rest of the commandments? Yes and no, and in the same sense. The ten commandments were part of Jewish law. They express principles that would be part of any divine law, but they do not apply as letter to all of us.

    Sunday is time I set aside to spend with God, along with many other specific times during the week, but it’s not a fulfillment of the letter of the commandment. Rather, it’s the application of the principle of time set aside for God as I believe it applies to my life, my place, and my time.

  • Peter Enns, Incarnational Inspiration, and Seminary Authority

    In 2005 Peter Enns, a professor of Old Testament at Westminster Theological Seminary, published a book titled Inspiration and Incarnation, and it is likely going to cost him his tenured position. I’m writing about this on this blog because of the implications of his incarnational view of inspiration for Biblical interpretation. I have not yet read this little book. I found out about it through this controversy. Let me comment to you the Christianity Today news article, and this review in JETS by G. K. Beale. The review is not particularly favorable, but it follows the kind of standards for writing and citation that would suggest it’s fair. (HT: Everyday Liturgy)

    What am I writing about, if I haven’t even read the book? Primarily I’m writing because of the impact on good education of seminary policies such as this one. Secondly, I know of other cases in which discussion of inspiration leads to this kind of reaction, to the detriment of serious consideration of the issues. Often the people in the pews are left without any sort of answers, or better any sort of structure in which to discuss answers because the theologians are avoiding them. Thirdly, I publish a book that uses the incarnational metaphor, Who’s Afraid of the Old Testament God?, by Dr. Alden Thompson, who has also elicited some controversy due to his view of inspiration. Finally, I hold an incarnational view of inspiration myself, as espoused in my book When People Speak for God.

    If you were to take the quotes and summaries by G. K. Beale in his review, not do any contortions to try to put a good face on them, i.e. take the more liberal interpretation, then you would have something like my own position. I will have to see when I get a copy of the book myself whether I think these things are fair with reference to Dr. Enns. I would simply note at this point that none of the material quoted appeared at all shocking to me, but then I’m not an evangelical.

    The problem I have here is with the seminary. First, let me say that I fully accept that a seminary belonging to or sponsored by a confessional body, has every right to control what is taught there. At the same time, the rest of us have every right to criticize their choices. The value of that criticism has nothing to do with changing the seminary. They’re not going to listen to me, and I wouldn’t even argue that they should. I’m not evangelical, I’m not Calvinist, and I don’t like the Westminster Confession.

    I criticize nonetheless because I believe we need to be aware of the problem of education that is constrained by a specific confession and that won’t allow anyone to question or work around the boundaries. The area of inspiration is one that has many lay members confused, and it is one where our young people who go to secular universities find themselves generally unequipped. When we constrain the playing field so thoroughly that we can’t discuss the type of issues that Dr. Enns raises, then I question the quality of the education that results.

    There is here a great gulf fixed between a secular, academic education, and an education at a confessional institution. I’m not sure how one should draw the boundaries if one belongs to a confessional church, but if one’s convictions are to be sound I think one has to have honestly explored alternate possibilities without the fear that stepping across the line will ruin one’s life.

    The combination of those elements is very difficult, and perhaps even impossible for a very confessional church, which is why I avoid such a thing. I am jealous of the ability to explore, to be wrong, and perhaps later to correct my course.

    In the final analysis, however, those who want to explore real answers to questions of inspiration will probably have to break the bonds in a more serious way, finding a less constrictive environment. The problem for many is that they have a firm faith and a strong commitment to their faith community, so it is hard to just move on. Such is the tragedy of the right of the seminary to manage itself, versus the need for thinking people to explore.

    While I found it necessary to step out of the community in which I grew up, I understand those who find that difficult, and who then spend years or decades in conflict with a community that they love.

    One final note–these are the folks who want to “teach the controversy” in public universities and in our high schools. The real goal is to put science within confessional boundaries, a straightjacket that will certainly not fit it.

  • Book: Evolution and Christian Faith

    I’m constantly on the lookout for books on evolutionary theory aimed at the general public rather than specialized audiences, so when I saw this little book on the shelf of the local university library, I took it home to check out.

    My response to it is a bit mixed. There are a number of good things about it. It’s simple, it presents most of the basics of evolutionary theory at the most basic level, and it deals with intelligence design briefly and vigorously. On the other hand, its approach to Biblical interpretation is vague, its theology is a bit soft, and its assumption that these arguments have any hope of reaching fundamentalists or even conservative evangelicals is frankly just a bit naive.

    The author, Dr. Joan Roughgarden, is an evolutionary biologist who is also a Christian and a member of the Episcopal church. She begins by discussing the relationship between science and religion. She suggests that the conflict between religion and science is fostered by the fact that we don’t discuss the two together. Her favorite topic of research is lizards, and she laments that evolutionists rarely discuss God and anti-evolutionists discuss God and rarely discuss lizards (p. 6).

    Unfortunately she really doesn’t do very much of discussing the two together. She does draw a few lines of connection between the Bible and science, but these can be divided between the naive and the distantly metaphorical. I don’t mean to be too cruel here, because there are a number of wonderful passages in this book, especially in describing the basics of evolutionary theory in non-specialists terms.

    In this early chapter she also intends to draw a distinction between what is solid and what is still questionable or “squishy” in evolutionary theory. That promise is very interesting, as is her distinction between the “real” controversies, which are in the details and in the leading edge of evolutionary theory, as opposed to the fake controversy created by intelligent design.

    In the second chapter, Dr. Roughgarden discuss the first “solid” element of evolutionary theory which she rightly calls a fact, common descent. She argues that there is nothing in a literal reading of Genesis that would deny this. The then continues in the third chapter with variation, which again she says does not contradict a literal reading of Genesis. I happen to agree with her on this point, as I state in my earlier blog post An Evolutionary Understanding of Kinds. The problem, as most people who have discussed this issue will see, is that with these two elements we’re pretty much out of literal readings of Genesis 1 and 2 that will support evolutionary theory, and most conservative Christians will not even agree to those.

    Thus it is no surprise that chapter 4 deals with reading the Bible literally, and suggests essentially that Jesus came to change a rule-based approach to one based on principles and relationships. Most interpreters would have some trouble using that point to suggest that we now have permission to read certain things literally or not literally based on whether they agree with our scientific understanding. The connection there is a bit vague. Further the dividing line is also a bit vague. How do you decide?

    Dr. Roughgarden doesn’t tell us. She leaves us with the literal reconciliation of common descent and variation without a “kinds” boundary in living things, while suddenly rejecting such a literal reading of the days of creation based on the changed approach brought by Jesus. I don’t think this will provide a consistent approach to hermeneutics, and I don’t think it will impress the fundamentalists.

    In the fifth chapter she carries this point to the other extreme, using the vine and the branches (John 15:1-6) as an illustration connecting natural breeding (which she prefers to natural selection) in the Bible. This is such a metaphorical connection that it strains my reading a bit, and I’m quite an advocate of metaphorical readings. But she goes on in chapter 6 using Mark 13 and the parable of the sower as a connection to random mutation (p. 45). The explanation of random mutation is pretty good, however.

    Chapter 7 is a discussion of direction in evolution which, in my opinion, doesn’t deal adequately with the challenge presented by the theory of evolution to the older Christian understanding of the way in which the universe works. This is followed by chapter 8 which is occupied by a discussion of Roman Catholic theology. In it, Dr. Roughgarden acknowledges that the challenge to evolutionary theory and the impetus to teach intelligent design in the science classroom are not largely driven by Catholics. Those who are pushing it are, to a large extent, not going to be moved by statements by the Pope, however good those statements are.

    Following this is a chapter on the things that evolution has not accomplished yet which is largely dedicated to discussing the definition of an individual, and where natural selection operates, individual or group.

    The chapter on intelligent design was quite good. I was surprised that after a call largely for peace, this chapter is a pretty vigorous attack. On page 94 Dr. Roughgarden provides four things that intelligent design proponents need to do in order to get their views examined scientifically (p. 94). These are good criteria that would require the ID folks to do some actual science, an unlikely prospect. She further describes the controversy proposed by ID (as in “teach the controversy”) as “concocted” (p. 95), and finally calls ID “junk religion” (p. 101). She says it should be discussed in religion classes in order to point out just how bad it is as theology. She doesn’t think it has any place in science classrooms. On this, of course, I agree!

    Chapter 11 is given to sexual selection, and I have a hard time seeing why it is in the book. It makes little sense to me, but I’m not an evolutionary biologist. If it does have a purpose, that would seem to be to suggest that we shouldn’t present natural selection in such a competitive fashion. I’m not sure just how this works. Natural selection does involve a fairly heavy competitive element.

    The last chapter points to new directions. These could be summarized by saying that scientists should present themselves less like Richard Dawkins, and theologians should avoid referring to a wrathful God so much. I’m pretty much in agreement with that, but I don’t think either Dawkins or Falwell and Roberts (who she uses to illustrate what’s wrong in religion) will follow the suggestions.

    My overall impression is that Dr. Roughgarden is a good scientist who has a liberal view of religion, but has a limited understanding of the type of theological ideas that drive evangelicals and fundamentalists. She expresses a peaceful and experiential faith that I can truly appreciate. If my review sounds rough, it’s because I don’t think that she has engaged the controversy that is actually going on. She’s hoping for peace.

    I enjoyed this book, but I don’t feel I can add it to my list of recommended reading for those who are trying to get acquainted with the creation-evolution controversy.

  • Church and Healthcare: Fear

    Let me remind everyone that I’m really thinking on my blog, rather than providing answers that I have really thought out in discussing health care issues and the church. I have lots of pieces, but I don’t feel that I have anything like an assembled puzzle. My comments will also necessarily derive from personal experience. And as always, I tend to ramble a bit!

    One direction from which we can come at this issue is from the question of need. What is it that a person needs from their church community when facing either illness or death? Since Mark brought up especially end of life issues, I’m focusing on this, including life-threatening illnesses.

    Several times when we’ve gone into the children’s wing of the hospital where our son received chemotherapy, my wife has commented that the real enemy is not cancer, but fear. I confess that the first time she said that, my reaction was a bit bewildered. Yes, I know that we have to fight fear, but we’re putting all of these chemicals into a child’s body for the purpose of killing the cancer, hopefully before they kill him. That’s surely fighting the cancer!

    But she has a point. The real difficult thing about illness and eventually facing death is the number of decisions that have to be made. Now my wife and I obviously were not facing our own deaths, but rather the death of a child. At first I was less involved. I was the step-father, but then James had to face the death of a loved one during his own struggle–his father died of a heart attack. After this I got a new perspective, because I was the one to go with him to doctor’s consultations. I remember his response vividly. He had only known about his father’s death for perhaps 15 minutes when he walked up to me and said, “Well, I guess it’s all up to you now.” Thought it wasn’t “all up to me,” he had a point.

    The thought of death does something to us, even as Christians, that I think makes us irrational. I say (and confess) “us” even though I believe our family managed to step back. The first thing is to realize that death isn’t your worst enemy. I say that not merely as a Christian who believes that there is more for us after this life. Leaving that aside, the process of medical care can be much more terrifying than the thought of dying.

    To be honest, I don’t know how most people do it. I grew up in a medically oriented family. We discussed health issues around the dinner table. We talked about dying as a pretty ordinary topic. We talked about the choices in medicine constantly. My wife is an R. N. and has 12 years experience as a hospice educator. With all that background available, we would get into a doctor’s office for a consultation and become hopelessly confused.

    I remember one consultation after the first recurrence of the cancer. The oncologist was outlining treatment options. I could look at James and see him tuning out. I told the doctor that I had the role of being the idiot and started asking him detailed questions, making him explain the treatment options, their impact both in terms of effectiveness and side effects. By being the complete idiot and making him go into ABC mode, I got the information. I’m wondering how many people would push that hard, or know when to push. He was a good doctor, with an excellent reputation, and we liked him. We ended up taking “none of the above” and going with a plan cooked up by a surgeon at another hospital.

    Now our church family was a bit of a mixed bag throughout all of this. Because I’m going to point out some real failures of support, I want to note that I believe everyone sincerely wanted to be “the body of Christ” for us. Most of them also did reasonably well. But there were people who were not at all helpful. In most cases, I think this was because of fear, either their own, or their assumption that we would be running scared. (Please don’t imagine us as some kind of fearless heroes. We just tried to remain rational under pressure!)

    Let me just list some things:

    1. You don’t have to be down all the time just because you or a family member is ill. A number of people took me aside because they felt they needed to let me know that Jody (my wife) was in denial, and didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation. She was much too cheerful. All things considered, I suspect the hospice educator was adequately informed. I was happy that there were times when she could be cheerful.
    2. Repeat that point for James. I don’t know how many times I was told he didn’t understand his condition and the fact that he could die. When he first went into treatment he wasn’t all that clear, but by the time it was all over he could educate most adults on cancer, death, and dying. Again, any time he could be cheerful was good. Before his father died, he and I had an agreement that we would just have fun, so I never brought up the illness when we were together unless absolutely necessary. Of course later that had to change. Church members (or any friends and relatives) need to be aware that you don’t need someone to be miserable with you. Often it’s nice just to have someone be normal and do normal things.
    3. It is impossible to follow every diet, special remedy, or treatment plan found on the internet. We were frequently presented with complete solutions discovered via the internet, ranging from eating lots of brussels sprouts to buying a several thousand dollar water filtration system. It was OK for people to suggest, but when they followed up to see if we were following their suggestions it was a bit much.
    4. Similarly, you can’t go to every faith healer, preacher, prayer team, special revival, or healing service that is offered. We had people who were desperate because they thought if we didn’t go to a particular place, James would not be healed, but if we did, healing was certain.
    5. People don’t necessarily hear what you teach and preach. Since both Jody and I teach and offer seminars, including on the topic of prayer, it was often expected that we should be able to pray for our son’s healing and that would be it. Apparently very few people had ever listened and realized that we had very explicitly said that there was no such guarantee or expectation. (Cue the folks who say that it was because we didn’t believe enough or in the correct faction that there was no healing.)

    One Sunday near the time that James went home we all skipped church and met in the living room. Some of our family members had been hurt by things they had heard. I pointed out that the people who did the hurting were not intending to, but that they were very likely operating from fear. If you can find a reason why someone else is suffering, then you can feel that you won’t be targeted. On the other hand if they could be convinced that the right prayer would result in certain healing, they could feel confident that if that nasty diagnosis came in, they could handle it.

    The idea of losing a child to cancer is so horrifying that we’d like to find a reason, and specifically a reason that doesn’t apply to you. Good luck! I wish anyone who does this the best in making yourself feel confident. But bad things do happen to generally good people, and whatever comes up as your lot, whether you look at is as God’s plan, or just the way things work in this world, you’re going to have to deal with it.

    So what does a church do as a community about this fear? I found that there is one key, and that is staying together and sharing. James had friends who drew closer, and he had friends who couldn’t handle being with him in the fire of affliction. We have been so amazed and thankful for those friends who stuck with him. The majority of those were a few years older than he was, and that difference got more marked as time went on. He simply no longer talked about the things that the boys his own age were interested in. But there were a number of close friends his own age who walked the walk with him. There are others I know who have regretted it.

    Simply staying friends, remaining part of the community, and allowing the portions of life that can go on normally to do so is extremely important. There’s such a thing as dying while you’re still alive. James made an early decision not to do that. His final summer he started out in marching band for his high school. He made a difficult decision to step out because he realized he wasn’t going to be strong enough to march that season and indeed would probably not live through it, but he continued to join them on the field, and help with those things he was physically capable of doing.

    He made a conscious decision that death wasn’t going to stop him. The rest of us had to go along with that! And it was the right decision. The fear can destroy you long before the disease does, and make your remaining days a living death.

    There is a value here in education, but that needs to be supplemented by active support. “Support” as I’ve said, isn’t a matter of having the right thing to say all the time. It’s a matter of simply continuing to be connected even when you don’t know what to say. I already knew all the words. The problem wasn’t to know what I ought to think. The problem was to get the encouragement and strength that comes from community. The ones who showed up and felt foolish, or so they tell me, didn’t hurt us in any way. Generally we had no idea they were as clueless as they claimed. We were just glad they were there. The folks who melted away–those hurt.

    Most churches need to really reorient their thinking to truly be a community. The response to every problem is to have a program, and designate people. And of course we do need designated leaders and programs can help. But it’s not the designated people who showed up that helped. It was the close friends who remained and got closer.