A Few Over-generalizations

Some of you may remember that I’d basically given up on the whole evolution “debate” out of what amounts to sheer exasperation with pretty much every side involved. Recently, however, I seem to have been drawn in again, mostly through discussions with several youth members at church. It has led me to do some more reading in the area, on two sides (of many) in particular, and yet I still find myself at a place of …

… “So?”

The issue that keeps coming back for me is this: how is it that the two sides in question seem so full of paradoxes, and how then can we then make these central debates to any sort of worldview?

For example, young-earth creationists claim that the universe was created in six, 24-hour days (because time was measured that way already) by a benevolent God who told them to be fruitful and multiply and to take care of their garden and the people of the earth He loves so much. I get the opposition to abortion, it seems to fit pretty well with “God loves all creatures”. However, they then oppose social health care, as if it would be such a terrible thing for everyone to be healthier, for more people to live, and for more people to live well. Now, I know there are issues with health care reform and socialized health care from an economic perspective (i.e. we can’t really afford it), but how on earth can you claim that these are issues that scripture can oppose? Sure, they’re not particularly consistent with traditional American values, but scripture isn’t particularly for or against America. I’ve yet to hear from any of the conservatives/fundamentalists how the two go hand-in-hand. Now they may, there’s the possibility since everything is really a religious issue, but I’ve yet to hear their justification for it. What the world does is only my concern inasmuch as I need to understand it to then show them the love of Christ in a way they can understand.

My beef with the other side is that they’re just as paradoxical. Most naturalistic evolutionists would say that there was no particular cause for everything, just random chance (if we can label it that). They also would tend to say, by definition, that everything arose through natural selection of genetic variation, the fittest genes survive, the most cunning are able to pass on their genetic material for a new generation. However, what I don’t understand is that the same group of people – to over-generalize – also seem to be most often in favor of universal health care, socialism, etc. This isn’t to knock those ideas one way or the other, but to notice an inconsistency: if you’re so in favor of naturally selected survival, then why on earth would you try to guarantee everyone surviving? And THEN you say that it’s our freedom of choice that we should make abortion legal. It seems a contradiction and a paradox to me as to how these can all coincide in the same worldview.

Just some thoughts, hoping that maybe it’ll get my writing juices flowing again. I’ve been away from this for far too long and I miss it. And yet I also seem to have very little time for it. Ah well.

Cheers.

Dawkins on Missing Links

I've seen this mentioned a few times as an evolutionist being stumped by a creationist's question. I think that's ridiculous; just because you can't answer the question right away doesn't mean you're stumped - it just means it's a hard question, and those take longer to answer. In fact, I think the answer he gives later in the video is actually quite well-spoken, though it takes as much a leap of faith to believe what he's saying as any other perspective (it would seem odd that we haven't found any of the failed-intermediate species). Anyway, just thought it was interesting. Thanks to Matt Stone for the heads-up.

Christian Agnostic, Part IV: Science and the Bible

One of my biggest pet-peeves is when a Christian or a Church says "the Bible is the scientifically-accurate word of God." Now, I do understand the context for such a qualifier - science has challenged a lot of what Christians through history have assumed to be true. Galileo noticed that we're not the center of the universe, and then Einstein showed that we could be, depending on our perspective. Darwin noticed that organisms adapt to their surroundings as they change, challenging the notion that once creation happened, nothing changed afterwards.

But the context doesn't seem to prevent my irritation.

It's ironic that so much of the debate is over a book that isn't actually a science textbook. On what level do we think that Moses was thinking "biology 101" when he compiled the accounts of creation in Genesis? Who writes a science text thousands of years before the idea of sceince even existed? Who, for that matter, would do so in poetry? Poetry is reserved for the things we can't explain, not the things we can!

I also find it ironic that many of the Christian notions challenged by science are actually cultural and not really biblical; many came from medieval notions of truth, which originated in their theology. For example, the medieval notion of the earth as the center of the solar system came from theology, not the theology from the evidence. The idea was that God made man last, therefore humanity is most important (interesting that they didn't extend this to gender). Now, from a certain perspective, no, the earth is not the center. The Earth revolves around the sun - we can look up (and even GO up) and see this to be so. However, Einstein being the genius that he was, changed all that. Because of perspective, we can literally be the center of the universe again; the universe, from a certain perspective (one with its fixed reference on our planet), quite literally revolves around us. But it is ALSO true that, from another perspective (one with its fixed reference outside our planet), the earth rotates and then orbits around the sun along with seven other planets and one planetoid (sorry Pluto), along with countless moons, comets, asteroids, etc. It's not either/or because of perspective. Western culture is actually one of the few cultures concerned with what literally happened in the past; most other cultures are more concerned with how we are to act NOW, and so they tell stories FROM the past in order to instruct the PRESENT.

And so I ask, must we think that scripture is scientifically accurate? Is the reason for scripture to show HOW things are, or to show WHY things are? Science and scripture are not necessarily incompatable. Science, for example, is quickly concluding that the universe was made out of nothing, that the Big Bang had to create matter from literally nothing in order for it all to work. Christians think that too - we call it "ex nihilio" (the fancy latin term for "out of nothing") except we say that the whole thing had a cause - God. Science is still "agnostic" about the cause. But are the two fundamentally incompatable? No. Scripture never says HOW God did it, only WHY He did it (and that He did it at all). But imagine you're a person ignorant of quantum mechanics and chemical microbiology (just imagine ... it shouldn't be too hard to imagine this) and living after all of this creation stuff has happened, and then think: how do you explain it to future generations? Of course:

Poetry!

And so to extend the argument further, when we say that organisms evolve and change and adapt to their surroundings, is that fundamentally incompatable with God breathing life into Adam? Only if you have a very narrow view of a God who doesn't work with what's present to change it. And if things can't change and adapt to new circumstances, what makes you think that people can change? Why bother with evangelism or mission if we think that people will always stay as they are, born sinful? I think that evolutionary theory is quite compatable with the story of the gospel, when told a certain way:

In the beginning was The Cause, and He created the universe out of nothing. He created it with order and purpose, with complex and intricate governing rules so that the atoms and molecules would know how to interact. The universe expanded to fill the space He had created, and by His hand, the planets took shape around stars, some around several stars. One planet was just right for a particular plan, and so he made it form in a certain way; volcanoes parted the waters and created fertile dry land. The volcanic activity also cleared the poisonous atmosphere, and in a puddle of green goo, God began moving the molecules into proteins, and the proteins into cells, and the cells into all sorts of organisms. God is like a potter, molding and forming a shapeless lump of clay into a masterpiece of artistic harmony, form and function. The animals grew ever complex, until one day, in the sixth age, God's last creation came to the point where He was ready for His best creative act yet: he breathed His own life into men and women. The two enjoyed the paradise of a planet God had created, until one day, something happened that changed all that ...

Is it perfect? Of course not, but like all things, it's open to interpretation, change, and refinement. God is ever creating, building life from chaos and confusion. Retelling it this way is very risky, but in the end, after refining it, I think it will be worth it. We need to retell anew the stories for our culture in a language that makes sense to each generation, lest they become old, stale, irrelevant.

(to be continued)

Back to Eden

I think it's hilarious that some ministers love to pull out the Great Commission only when it's convenient, like when talking about how we shouldn't be worrying about environmentalism or taking care of our planet. In the rest of church life, the Great Commission is a statement to which they pay lip-service, evangelism a means of garnering new church members for their tithe than the restoration of human beings. I had one of those "shake your head and laugh because if you didn't you'd cry" sort of moments today in Doctrine, during a discussion on the very issue of creation-care. It inevitably happened that a few people brought up the "well it's too much of a distraction from our God-ordained mission to evangelize the world" comment that comes up in these situations.

"Too much of a distraction."

Words cannot express how angry I got at that moment. I did a decent job of restraining myself, though Dan helped too. I found something stirred within me that I've been noticing a lot lately. When I returned from India, my thoughts dwelled on the environmental damage I saw there, the garbage everywhere, the brick and mortar torn down and tossed into piles, the fires burning plastics into the air. I returned to my daily life, and on my drive to work, began noticing the new land being cleared for a wider route 68 into Lexington (to handle the growing traffic as the suburbs expand). And I just felt sad. Not that we don't need a wider road - we do - but the way in which it's being done. Instead of working WITH the land, the engineers decided instead to cut down old, ancient trees that were "in the way" (though I'm pretty sure they could've worked around most of them) and then burn them. They didn't even have the decency to use the wood for something useful, they burned it in massive bonfires.

And I felt sad.

Sometimes, when I'm too tired on my way to (or from) work, I get close to tears as I think of the waste. I'm not saying that life doesn't have its seasons, that sometimes the tree really does have to come down, but when it's avoidable?

And some people still find this irrelevant, "too much of a distraction." The very place they live is a place to exploit, rather than see the wonders of God's creative hand. They'll sing "God of Wonders" but only insofar as they don't yet need to use those wonders, insofar as their use and abuse of those wonders doesn't affect their quality of life. And the Great Commission is used as the excuse. "Go and make disciples of all nations …" is used to tell the Christian community that they don't have to be responsible with the way they live.

It bastardizes the Great Commission by saying this. What is a disciple but a person who learns at the feet of Jesus? If Jesus is the guy who walked from place to place, taking times of solitude in Gardens and on hillsides overlooking lakes, the picture of a God who creates everything good, from nothing, then I'm not sure that I'm reading the same scriptures they are. When I see Jesus care for others, for the lowest of humanity, it is never at the expense of creation. Creation is worked, improved, pruned, but never destroyed. Yes, creation is a resource for the survival of humanity; but Adam was given dominion over creation. If Jesus is the second Adam, then dominion implies servanthood, and to serve others is also to serve and maintain our planet. Where would we be without the delicate balance that is found in the created order?

Now, to be moderately fair, one of the students on that side of this discussion did mention that we owed a great deal to the environmental movement of the 1960's and '70's … but … (and there's always a "but") he thinks that the church is jumping on the "bandwagon" thirty years too late. I'm well aware that environmentalism can be a bandwagon, just like wearing crosses or attending protest rallies. But if Christians are starting to realize that they still have just the one planet, and want to take care of it, then this is a good thing! Not to mention the fact that the environment is STILL a priority in popular culture (perhaps more so, with the Global Warming debate as important as it is). If these Christians (the ones who all of a sudden seem so into the Great Commission) want to relate Jesus to this culture, then maybe working alongside those in the environmental movement (rather than against them) is a wise idea; it's like making important to you what is important to us (instead of telling them to find important only what you find important). Failing this, perhaps being concerned about the environment needs to be in the interests of self-preservation; it doesn't get any better unless you WORK at it.

But in my mind, the only real reason to take care of our planet IS God. Think of Him as a parent; a parent takes care of his kids for a while, and through their adult years as well (though in a different capacity). But in that, He teaches them to also take care of themselves. In this case, creation - both the Earth AND Humanity - must take care of itself. The environment naturally seeks balance, so the problem lies not with the earth, but with human beings. And this is what we see with God's command to Adam.

It seems significant to me that Jesus, after He was resurrected, first appeared as a gardener. If God is the creator and works with His creation as a parent, then it makes sense that Jesus is tending the Garden of His creation. Jesus died and rose not just for sinners, but for those who were sinned against - including creation. Someday, scripture writes, Jesus will return again and restore His Kingdom. But this is not simply the restoration of rule; it is a restoration of creation. Jesus moves us all back towards Eden, both body and soul, mind and flesh, man and beast, creation. As much the Coming Kingdom is the restoration of the relationship between God and Humanity, it is also the restoration of harmony between the creation and those that live in it.

The Lord is my Shepherd; I have everything I need
He lets me see a country of justice and peace
And directs my steps toward his land

[Zephania Kameeta, Adaptation of Psalm 23]

UPDATE: Found this video at the Onion on this very topic! How convenient!

China Celebrates Its Status As World�s Number One Air Polluter

Expanding Earth

Ok, how crazy an idea is this really? I'm curious for those of you who may have gone further in your scientific training than I have if this is entirely preposterous or if it has any weight to it at all. All I'm asking is that you suspend disbelief and give it some consideration. I have no idea if this is right, but it's certainly interesting.

Today's Onion Video Is ...

Should Americans Return To A Simpler, Stone Age Lifestyle?

The Bigger Picture (Part II)

Sorry for the long pause in writing, I've been ... busy. Busy is probably the opposite of hyperbole, let's say I've been slowly going insane over the past four weeks. I've had work; at Coldstone, we once again no longer have a manager, making that three managers in four months that have either been fired or quit on us. This time, though, they decided to go a different route and give me all the responsibilities without the salary. Oh, I got a raise, for which I'm grateful, but I'd just as well not be the one in charge. It's one of those "I could get fired if anything bad happens!" which doesn't make it easy to sleep at night. But I love my new job at the optometrist's office. The people are great, the doctors are fantastic, and the work pace is steady. And I get to sit down most of the day instead of stand.

Then there's the baby. She's fantastic (new pictures on flickr), if a bit fussy sometimes. Actually, she's been fussy a lot lately, giving Liz a run for her sanity every two hours. And I really mean every ... two ... hours. My parents were here a week and a half ago, which was awesome. And this past weekend was the Paine family reunion in Illinois. We had a good time, but getting there took a lot longer than we expected due to torrential rains in Indiana, a huge traffic jam in Louisville, and of course, the usual delays from having a four-week-old baby to worry about. But in and amongst all this I haven't had time for reading, much less any writing. But I have a very slow day at work today, so I thought I'd pick up the story where I left off in the last post.

* * *

There are lots of kinds of scripture, but the hardest thing for many Christians to wrap their head around is determining whether a certain passage of poetry should be taken literally or metaphorically. Scripture itself isn't even in historical order, though it roughly moves from earlier to later with some interruptions. For example, the letters of Paul are not in chronological order, likewise for much of the later old testament. Some books (or parts of books) seem fairly indicative of history, though told as a bard would in the early Celtic legends. Others seem to be simply emotional expression, though we could probably match them to historical events (many of the psalms are like this). Still others are both; they contain many levels of history, symbolism, metaphor, truth.

The book of Genesis is this last sort of scripture; it happened, but it's also metaphorical, full of symbols that mean a lot if you understand the perspective of those who wrote it and heard it first. Like the book of Joshua, Genesis is much more than it appears. Its authorship is somewhat debatable; some say that Moses wrote it, but most historians these days believe that Moses was merely a collector of many other works, adding his own commentary as needed. Its original authorship seems to include Adam himself, Noah, Enoch, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the many fathers of the Israeli nation. Historians and Bible Scholars tend to agree that Genesis wasn't written by just one person, but by many. Speaking from a literary standpoint, the style shifts back and forth, changing voice. We can tell when one person is writing and then another takes up the next line of the story (Sidenote: the methods for this used are often the same used in criminology and linguistic forensics, when researchers are able to tell one "voice" from another because of their writing style. You know, like in CSI).

But Genesis 1 is the crux of it all, the most debated passage in scripture these days. Evolutionists, creationists, and everybody in between seems to have an opinion about what this passage means. Genesis 1 is written in the form of a poem, an illustration of the beginning of something. You can see it over and over again, with two different refrains: "And God said, let there be __ and there was", and "and there was evening, and there was morning, the __ day." As a poem, it's not half bad, though I imagine it was probably far more impressive in its original tongue. Poetry usually is.

At the start, it says "in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth." My first reaction is, in the beginning of ... what, exactly? Of time? Of space? Of everything? We don't seem to be off to a good start if the text is pure history; important details are left out. Looking closer, you could spend ages studying just verses 1 and 2:

(1) In the begining, God created the heavens and the earth. (2) Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

So let's see if I understand this right. In the beginning, God creates the heavens and the earth. There's no particular indication of what "heaven" means here, but most likely it would indicate that space beyond earth's atmosphere, a place we typically associate with a void. But you have to remember, if before this there was only God, there would first have to be created a place in which a universe could exist. And the earth.

An interesting parallel is John 1:1-5:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

John takes five verses to say what the author of Genesis 1 took two. We learn some interesting stuff in there, about the triune nature of God, about God's relationship with darkness, and about God's creative nature. It's a loaded text full of mystery, poetry, and truth.

But the next verse (Gen 1:2) makes the first seem odd; the earth was formless and empty. God first creates the heavens and the earth, but the earth was formless and empty. Genesis 1 begins not when there was nothing, but when there was already something. But in classic form, the scripture's author writes it as the understatement of the ages; in fact, understatement runs rampant through the biblical story. Think of Gabriel, "be not afraid." Really? Well, ok, if you say so. "Yep, God made everything. But THEN ..." Maybe the authors just knew that God can't be captured just in words, an idea we (read: modern-day people) might want to keep in mind more often.

If you think about it more, it makes sense that Genesis 1 is poetry; how else could you possibly capture, in any meaningful way, God's desire to produce creation? How else could you record something so beyond man? Scientific language will never do it justice; to say "first he did this, exactly this way, and then he did this, but in between there was this middle stage where this happened ..." seems to lose the message. Poetry (and art in general) is the best way to capture something so profound without resorting to massive volumes of text. Sure, it's less specific, doesn't give a "how", but it reads a lot better.

Besides, if God made it, does it matter exactly how He did it?

(to be continued)

The Bigger Picture (Part I)

So often we want to call scripture one thing or another; it's poetry, or metaphor, or history, or prophesy, or scientific account, but only one thing at a time. It seems we always have to dissect it into little pieces to understand it, to "deconstruct" it, but in doing so we tend to forget to "reconstruct," and lose sight of the bigger picture. Scripture is a lot of things all at once, its whole greater than the sum of its parts. As Rob Bell says, "this is about that."

For example, take a passage in Joshua, a passage that is, strictly speaking, historical in nature; it is written in the style of a piece of history. Joshua 3 describes the nation of Israel - a shepherding, migrant nation after it left the slavery of Egypt under Moses - as it passes across the Jordan river into Canaan. But the chapter is more than just part of Israel's history. Like so many places in scripture it is filled with symbolism and metaphor built on events that actually seem to have happened.

Joshua, newly-appointed leader of the Israeli nation, is told to lead his people into Canaan. In order to get there, Israel must somehow get across the Jordan river, a dangerous river at the easiest of times, and, this being the season of the annual flood, is treacherous at best, deadly at worst. To cross this river, especially for a large nation from the desert, spells death.

But Joshua knows that God is up to something, that God will keep the promise he made to Abraham and to Moses, that Israel will have its own land in Canaan. Per God's instructions, Joshua tells the priests (from the tribe of Levi) to carry the Ark of the Covenant into the river ahead of Israel and to wait until Israel crosses. I imagine that this fills them with a certain fear; stepping out in faith is never easy, after all. As they do so, the river slows down, and eventually stops altogether, and begins flowing backwards far upstream. Israel works its way across the now-dry river-bed and into Canaan, no worse for wear.

That's the historical bit. What's interesting is that the author of the text chose to include a number of details that most of us wouldn't think were important at all for a historical account. Sure, it's miraculous that the river dried up, but if that were so, why include all this other information? The answer lies in Israel's history. The book of Exodus is a major focal point for the Israeli calendar; the story of God's mercy, of his Might in saving the nation from slavery in Egypt and leading them into the freedom of their own nation is one remembered to this day in many festivals. By the time this text was in circulation, every Jewish child would know this story, and every adult would, upon reading a text such as Joshua, pick up on key details.

For example, the tribe of Levi is told to carry the Ark ahead of Israel, in essence, to lead the way, harkening back to the Exodus through the desert when God's pillar of fire moved ahead of them, guiding them to Mount Sinai. Next, the Ark moves into the river, and at its presence, the waters recede. At this, the Jew would remember Moses and the Red Sea.

But here the author includes some seemingly trivial information. First, we're told that the water recedes all the way back to a town called "Adam." This is an odd detail in and of itself, but the next seems nearly pointless: it says that the water is not allowed to flow into the dead sea. Now, anybody is smart enough to know that if you stop a river upstream, the places downstream don't get any water; it's enough to leave it implied. But the author feels the need to leave it there, to let us know that the river no longer flows from the town of Adam all the way to the dead sea, known for its extremely high salt content and (thus) lack of life.

If God uses history as metaphor, then this is a pinnacle story, the essence of the gospel found buried deep within the old testament. Over and over again, Israel was told that they were to be humanity's representatives for God, a "priestly nation" in which God will tell the story of the world. The water was death for the Israelites, but into the middle of it, God (symbolized as the Ark) enters and works a miracle. Death stops flowing, and in fact, flows backwards all the way to Adam, recorded as the first human in Genesis 1. The author then tells us that death stops flowing all the way to the sea of Arabah, the sea of death.

For the Hebrews, deep water was known as a symbol of death, of the demonic, and of hell. Stories are told of the many sailors and fishermen who perished on the sea of Galilee, and popular mysticism attributed this to demons "rising from the deep" to claim their lives. This is probably why it freaked out the disciples so much when Jesus walked along on top of the deep, and then commanded the storm - the very instrument of the death of so many sailors and fishermen - to cease, to calm. How can anyone but worship He who commands death to cease?

(to be continued)

[Logic Error]

I've been pondering the necessity of "logic" as of late. The trouble at the moment is that logic has begun to seem a bit tiresome; so many people use logic to prove so many things. The end result is that we have a lot of people that can "logically" prove whatever they really want to.

The thing about logic is that first, you have to buy into the system. If you believe logic works, then it works. It is its own language. Mostly, logic works within systems, languages. The so-called "laws" of logic only apply within a certain language. For example, the word "cause" can mean different things in different systems - determinists believe "cause" to mean (and therefore "be") something different than, say, libertarians do.

The trouble that comes from this is when different systems try to use logic to prove their side. I've just been reading about the "free will" debate in a philosophy book, and it seems to me that the two systems have nothing in common. One system claims that we are free because of their definition of the word "cause", and the other system claims that we aren't free out of an argument based on their definition of "cause." Yet another system says that we're only sort-of free because of yet another definition of the word "cause." And all three systems use logic to prove their way, and more logic to disprove everybody else.

In other words, our definitions of words assume certain logical arguments, thereby forming one large circle of logic. Logic is a self-contained system.

Since language is culturally based, it stands to reason (no pun intended) that really, somebody's stance on a particular issue is usually related to the way they have learned their language. It turns out that the eskimos have many different options for the concept of "snow," whereas in Queensland, Australia they only conceive of snow as one sort of thing. How important a concept is relates to how useful it is in practical experience.

We look no further than the game of basketball for an exmaple Professor Walls gave in class. The winning team often attributes their success to their amazing abilities as athletes (free will, as it were - "we just wanted it more"), whereas the losing team often often attributes their failure to "fate" ("I guess it was meant to be, we tried so hard!").

And so while logic is a nice little system of itself, it is necessary that you believe in logic for it to work - it is a self-contained system. Science, religion, and even atheism are all self-contained systems, where the language they use "proves" their beliefs. If something doesn't prove a belief, the language used is modified until the evidence matches the belief.

I, for one, have yet to understand how logic can account for things like paradoxes (of which the Christian faith contains many) or the flow of time. So many logic arguments presuppose a linear flow of time, when this has never actually been proven to exist. We may think that it's linear, but then again, earth looks flat unless you take a look at it from farther away. And who's to say that your five senses (or more or less, since some cultures don't acknowledge certain senses and others claim more than five) are not deceiving you?

No, faith is involved. We cannot be certain that we know something, but we can be certain that we believe something. And I mean everybody.

I submit to you a new definition of religion: "religion is any self-contained lingual system which, by virtue of its culturally-refined definitions of words and use of grammar, may be used by devout adherants to prove itself and disprove other lingual systems."

What say you?

Science and Religion

I received a comment on a post a while back that I wanted to comment on more extensively. The comment read:

"You might think of the discoveries of science as tools. For example, evolution and genetics are enormously powerful tools for conducting medical research. Another example: When you build a house, you would be wise to use a building code manual. You would want to know some math and physics too. Religion could be thought of as a tool people use for their emotional well being and to provide social structures for societies. But you wouldn't want to use the Bible if you're trying to figure out what optimum roof truss spacing you need to support the weight of your roof.

Recently on the radio I heard a religion scholar named Karen Armstrong. She said she evaluates faith traditions with the following question: "Does it result in practical compassion?" I think this is a very powerful view of religion that gets away from the endless (and destructive, in my mind) arguments over who (or which religion) owns the truth about God. It also enables us to find a way to respect traditions we don't fully accept for ourselves. (As you said in your original post, we have to figure out how to get along.)

You could carry this over to the evolution concept and say "Does it have a practical application that will help us find a cure for malaria, for example." And, yes, in fact it adds a great deal to the understanding of this medical problem. You may not have to accept it theologically, but it's critical for us to respect its usefulness as a very important tool in medicine and scientific research (and many other fields). Why so critical? So we can solve problems!"

On one level, I couldn't agree more. Evolution, like all scientific theories, is a tool and a language used to describe and explain certain observations made by various individuals we call "scientists." As a language, then, it is simply a construct we use. It is not the truth, but it attempts to describe the truth. It is a perspective. Science works in such a way that if new evidence comes along that better explains the observations we've made, we can revise the language we use to explain the universe we live in. It's a work in progress.

A great example in recent news is the terran solar system. Human language has now evolved to a point where we describe planets differently than we used to. Pluto, now, is part of a binary dwarf-planet system, rather than a planet with a moon. The language has changed because our understanding of the phenomena has advanced to a point where we can use new evidence - and new language - to better explain the universe. It was the case with Newton's gravitational laws to Einstein's relativity to Quantum Physics; as our understanding progessess, so does our language.

Science, in the case of absolute truth, has more to say than religion, in some ways. Science posits a universe with an abolute set of boundaries (sometimes called laws) in which all behavior - of objects, life, molecules, etc. - can be rationally explained. If you know the laws, you can then explain (and hopefully predict) how everything works, then use that knowledge to do things. So many religions don't buy into this kind of world; they think that truth is "relative," meaning that it changes from individual to individual. While I don't think that anybody really buys into relativity (how can you possibly when you're absolutely sure that each time you take a step you won't go hurtling off into the oblivion of space?), lots of people have used it as a useful mental construct that makes any argument go away. We can all be happy because everybody is right and nobody has to feel dumb for being wrong.

In order to discover its absolute truth, science relies on repeatable, verifiable evidence by multiple objective observers in order to explain behavior. The trouble is, there is no such person; objective observers do not exist, because everyone's perspective is subjective. In order to be an objective observer, you must be unimpaired by judgemental bias, something that human beings are incapable of. A mundane example: a scientist observes something happen, but as soon as he sees it, by his very nature he is already conjuring up a theory as to why it happened. In order to prove his theory, he must conduct experiments, which are then designed to prove his point, rather than disprove it (in pure science [translation: optimistic science], this is the opposite; you perform experiments to disprove your theory, but rarely does this happen in a world that expects results - we are not payed to disprove our theories, rather we are payed to prove a theory that will make money and progress). Still, the fundamental principle is a good one; if you can observe something repeatedly, you will be able to develop a theory to explain it. It works - we have the drugs and the cars and the computers to prove it. Ask anybody.

Religion, like science, is a construct, a language we use to try and explain the various phenomena we observe in the much-debated metaphysical world. These phenomena tend to be much more subjectively verifiable, however, open to much speculation due to the low number of observers and the unrepeatable nature of the phenomena. So many people do not understand that religion, like science, is also a work in progress. We aren't perfect, and since we aren't in control of metaphysical phenomena, and therefore can't perform experiments to verify their existence, we have to go with the evidence we have, limited as it is. Religion, by its nature, will talk about things that it has very little understanding of - God, first and foremost. Because religion does not require repeatable evidence, it can believe in God/gods, angels, demons, nymphs, sea monsters, aliens, and all sorts of things that science does not.

Science, on God, has a fundamental flaw. As many scientists acknowledge, it is impossible to prove the existence of God simply because there is no objective observer, nor is there verifiable evidence. In order to prove God, you would have to be outside of God. Since God is everywhere (omnipresence), this is impossible; the very definition of Hell, in some textbooks, is a place with the absence of God. So you'd have to be in hell to prove God is there, and chances are that if there were such a place, you'd be there precisely because you didn't believe in God. Science gets stuck in a logic loop here; either God is or he isn't, and it's easier to believe he isn't.

And so often enough, science and religion start to speak different languages, simply because of their differing requirements for evidence. In the end, the people (humanity) seems to have gone the science route because of one thing: results. Science has proven itself time and time again because it provides tangible benefits to people. You can see these benefits everywhere: medicine, technology. The fact that you're reading this right now is a result of science.

I'm not saying this to say religion is wrong, but to inspire us forward. Science can only bring us so far, and it cannot give us one thing: meaning. It is the task of religion to give us a language for meaning. There is an absolute truth out there, and though our perspectives cloud it (we see as through a glass darkly), it's there. I submit that God is there, and in fact, all around us. Seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you.

Continuing the Discussion

I've been having a fantastic discussion on evolution in the comments section of a previous post. To join our discussion, go here. I'd love to hear more from both sides of the debate, especially in regards to teaching evolution in schools, but also on proofs for both (well, ok, all) sides.

Reasonable Doubt

Without sounding like I'm trying too hard to be the voice of reason here, I'd like to add my two cents to a debate that's been going on for a while. I know that nobody ever actually asks my opinion in these matters, but on this particular debate, given my rather long and somewhat dissatisfied history with the subject, I want to have a go at finding an alternative to all the squabbling.

I've been through this all before. Did God create all that we see, or some big bang way back when? The real question, though, is what the hell do we teach our kids? I think that so many of the normal folk realize that we can never truly know the answer to the first question (that is, until we die, when we can't really come back to tell everybody else), and thus, the second question becomes so much harder. Do we teach them evolutionary "theory" or do we teach them "intelligent design?"

For whatever reason, the debate has touched a nerve in the American populace (while the rest of the world looks on thinking 'what's their problem?'). I have my theories on that one, but they'll have to wait. Some people are adament: evolution is not just a theory, it's proven fact. Others hold the opposite: evolution isn't even science, but that it itself is religion, and not very good religion at that.

I've been thinking. I do that. It's a problem because it keeps me from going to sleep at night (but at least it gives you something to read). But it seems to me that the question keeps coming back to everybody's definitions of the word "religion." Really, the definitions of a lot of words - neither side of the debate speaks the same language, not really - but for now, "religion" is a good place to start. If you go by a reasonably broad definition of religion - say, a belief system involving an element of faith or trust that one can't know all the answers but looks at what they see to extrapolate the rest - then I'd say sure, evolutionary theory, creationism, intelligent design, and aliens all fit into the "religion" category. Maybe not aliens, but I suppose we can all see what we want.

I personally think that there are six major religions of the world: judaism (deifies "Jehovah"), christianity/christendom (deifies "I AM"), Islam (deifies "Allah"), Buddhism (deifies the intellect), Hinduism (has lots of deities), and atheism (deifies science and the self). There are lots of variations on that, but those are the biggies. My personal background, like many in the US, is christendom. I grew up going to a presbyterian church every week (with the few rare exceptions where I managed to beg/cajole/plead my way out of it), but at the same time, barely heard much about creation. Aside from the occasional "God created everything," I didn't hear much else from a 'christian' perspective on the matter. I learned the standard evolution model taught in new york schools. It was about high school that I started taking an interest in the subject, when I started wondering if perhaps my beloved science and my not-so beloved religion had any conflicts. For the next four years I read and studied and examined the two sides of the debate. I talked with teachers, fellow students, pastors - anybody who would listen (my poor parents had their ears questioned off, and I still remember 3am conversations with my mother on the specifics of the Genesis account, when my half-asleep father would come in begging her to come to bed).

I came to the conclusion that God had indeed created everything, but that Genesis doesn't mention "how" - science could shed light on that in the evolutionary theory. So I bopped along for awhile, happy that I'd figured it out, and then, tragedy struck - I entered college and was hit by a problem with the argument. It turns out that, due to a rather interesting logical fallacy, you can't just mesh the two arguments together like that. So, with the debate renewed, I continued to study.

I'm still not sure I've landed anywhere solid - and nobody really ever can, which is why I pretty much stepped away from the debate for about two years - but at the moment I consider myself an old-earth creationist. I don't buy into the whole "6000-year old" earth mumbo jumbo; the evidence is too overwhelming on both sides for that to be true (we all know the science, but did you know that "yom", the hebrew word for "day", can also mean "age"? it makes Genesis 1 read really differently).

I think this is where my insight might be useful. In all my searching, reading, discussing, etc, I discovered a little piece of information that could prove itself to be the solution: science needs the evolutionary theory to uphold a lot of other theories that seem to be working out just fine, which is one reason that scientists hold on to evolution so tightly - they need it, badly. However, the parts of it that they need don't really have much to do with apes or big bangs. The parts they need have a lot to do with genetics, cell biology, adaptation theory, and that sort of thing - the raw data, not the theory.

See, evolution has two parts: microevolution (survival of the fittest, called "natural selection") and macroevolution (accumulation of natural selection, genetic variation, and whatnot; and it usuall talks about apes starting to talk). This is the solution:

In schools, we need to do three things:
1) acknowledge that none of us really have the answers to life, the universe, and everything
2) remove the theories of origin from science classes and instead teach the genetics, the natural selection, and the stuff that's useful to science but that isn't terribly controversial
3) begin a manditory religion class (teaching all six major world religions, which is where we can then include theories of origins)

I think this solves a lot of problems. It acknowledges that religion is important, that it affects more than just what you do on sunday, \ that you can't just lump it into a history class (because there is so much to learn about), and it allows kids exposure to a greater amount of culture. It also clears up the issue of whether or not we evolved - nobody knows for sure. Some scientists are so sure, and some creationists are so sure, but in the end, they weren't there, and they're still just guessing. Some are guessing harder and smarter than others, but they're still just guessing. It moves the information in question into an arena that allows kids to expand their minds and think, to work through the arguments and maybe even grow a little. We can do science in science class, philosophy and religion (and therefore controversey) into their own class.

In the end, I know that whatever we do, nobody will be happy about it. Creationists usually are the sorts of people that think their kids are being corrupted by the public school system anyway, and so if worlds like "evolution" or "sex" or "homosexuals" are ever mentioned without saying "God doesn't like ___" in front of them, the parents freak out. Likewise, scientists have a rather unhealthy habit of making anyone who claims any sort of deity to be a fool unworthy to be in the presence of the wise scientist. BOTH attitudes are unhealthy, unwise, and frankly, appallingly annoying. It's time to start thinking of everybody involved, not just one side or the other.

We still have to live together, ya know.

The Evolution of the Pot

I shall begin at the beginning, or rather, at the end: it was the year 5023, and scientists were sorting through the grime of the past ages when they uncovered a unique find: a small piece of hard clay. After analysis it was concluded that the clay was a remnant of a larger creature that they deemed “pottus firmus.”

Around the world, paleontologists continued to discover fragments and sometimes complete skeletons of various devices that appeared to be related to the first fragment. Other full skeletons of newer creatures were discovered buried in various strata of rock, dirt, and sometimes, in fields of ice. Genus and Species were assigned. One bold paleontologist posited that not only were these pots related, they were links in a chain, one creature leading to the next.

Pottus Firmus, he said, was in fact the original, a creature formed from the dust of the earth itself. Firmus evolved, over time, into Pottus Bulbus, with its larger bottom and smaller top that better contained water. As evolution progressed, Bulbus’ outer shell became more ornamented, and, unable to mate with like creatures, became Pottus Decorum. Over time, it gave way to Pottus Amphorai, a larger and better adapted creature to the harsh Mediterranean environment where it was found.

It is here that his theory lost some credibility, because he could find no link between Amphorai and the next most recent skeleton in the ground, Pottus Tremendum, a smaller but fearsomely sturdier creature suited to the harsher environment of a warring world. Finally, Pottus Moderna was the final link in the chain, but after which the race went extinct after the large thermonuclear disaster of 2158.

Eventually it was discovered that they were not creatures at all, but kitchen pots. The study was abandoned, and the paleontologist gave up his study of population biology in favor of basket weaving.

I know I should leave well enough alone, but for those of you who know me, you know that I can’t resist talking about two things, both of them former thesis projects: postmodernism and the evolution/intelligent design debate.

First we must separate a problem: evolution isn’t a single unified theory, rather it is a conglomeration of a lot of different ideas, and like creationism, no two scientists hold the exact same view of it (though I will admit that lots more scientists come much closer to holding identical beliefs than religious proponents of Intelligent design). The most easily distinguished categories are micro- and macro-evolution. The two do not depend on one another to exist, or rather, macroevolution depends upon microevolution, but not vice-versa. Microevolution, then, can be an independent theory in and of itself (sui generis, you might say), the driving force to the more controversial theory of macroevolution.

No matter how hard scientists try, they can’t seem to get away with the one major problem with their theory of macroevolution: probability. It seems to keep throwing a wrench in the works, because while they can often show that evolution is technically possible, it’s never been shown that it’s any more probable than any other theory of origins (partly because evolution makes no claim to know how it all started, just that it did at some point). Simply because a bunch of things look the same doesn’t mean that they evolved of … what force? What is the driving force of evolution? It’s not the laws of thermodynamics, they prove that evolution shouldn’t happen, but they also show that life shouldn’t happen either. Yet it does.

For example, the probabilities involved with the evolution of the first protein are astronomical. To get from a random batch of primordial chemicals to one protein, fully formed, are so high it’s not really worth talking about. The number of chemical reactions required, the forces working against those reactions happening, and then for the protein to not denature within moments of its formation in a hostile environment makes its un-guided evolution next to impossible. The cell (of any organism) has so many chemical stabilizers (mRNA and rRNA, transcription proteins, etc.) for creating proteins because proteins, especially the complicated proteins required for complex life, do not naturally form – they are created. It is against the laws of nature (especially thermodynamics) for proteins to form (for example, the shape of a protein is dependent upon the interaction of various parts of the protein, which are easily disrupted by the presence of other chemicals, ions, etc, and the chances of this happening in a primordial environment are slim).

Another example: let’s grant that nature defied the odds (for what other driving force can we give evolution but the sort of ethereal “nature”?), and somehow a little critter evolved from the primordial goo. It’s single-celled, and eventually multiplies into a plethora of different single-celled organisms, and eventually into multi-cellular yet mitotically-replicating organisms (organisms that divide themselves into two identical pieces). Yet as soon as an organism evolves that requires mitosis to divide (sexual reproduction, meaning it needs two of that organism), the species would have died immediately. First, there’s only one of this thing (let’s say it’s a fish or something) around because it’s so improbable in the first place that it evolved. Second, even if another did evolve, the odds of it being at the same time and the same place as the first one are huge!

Ok. So if macroevolution doesn’t work, yet microevolution does, it still doesn’t explain where it started. This is, in fact, what distinguishes intelligent design theorists from creationists: microevolution is acknowledged (as well as all scientific evidence) as a valid source of data. And alternately, what distinguishes ID theorists from Evolutionists is twofold: denial of macroevolution and acceptance of a higher power / deity / god as the source and explanation of a created universe. In most instances, this is really just political cover for a Christian who would rather not mention the title “God” in scientific circles, for fear of retribution by his or her unbelieving colleagues.

As it turns out, most scientists would rather shoot themselves than commit the scientific heresy of admitting the existence of a God who might have things figured out better than they do, and they’d rather get angry and upset and violent than admit that they might – might – be wrong. I guess my point in writing this post was not to say that I hate all evolutionists, but to say that I think it’s time that evolutionists gave up their self-righteousness and listened with an unbiased mind for a change. After all, I bought their evidence. I’m a proponent of Intelligent Design; I used to be a scientist, and can’t deny the evidence for microevolution, and frankly I can easily buy the insubstantial evidence for macroevolution – but only the evidence. I can, like many, offer an alternative explanation for it that is really just as probable and just as valid. It does require that I admit the existence of an all-powerful God, but that’s ok with me. I’m a Christian too, so it works as a worldview. I mean, evolutionists are going on a lot of faith too, why is God so hard to admit?

Intelligent Evolution

I am amused to share with you all my latest discovery: The Dilbert Blog. Not only does Scott Adams share with us his innermost thoughts, but every so often, he writes a gem of such magnitude that every theological student should read it. And every scientist.

This is what I'm talking about.

That's right: Scott Adams writes about the debate between Evolutionists and Creationists. And it contains the best thoughts I've heard on the subject in ages. My favorite comment was "Scott: This was all just a ruse for you to prove yourself correct that any debate about Evo-ID just turns into angry posts and name-calling, wasn't it?" ... and something tells me he's right, but that's why I love the post so much, because he's so right.

Enjoy the article. It's worth the read.