Talk given by the Rector on 4 February 2007Our
title this evening is 'Science versus Religion?', which is often how
it's seen. As if they're at opposite ends of a see-saw so that the rise
of one necessarily leads to the decline of the other. As if they're in
a fight with each other. But to see science and religion in conflict
like this is totally unnecessary. More than that, it's both
unscientific and it's irreligious. It does justice to neither. Making
them slug it out against each other means that they both lose out.
Whereas,
in fact, science and religion have nothing at all to fear from each
other. They're friends, not enemies! Indeed, they need each
other. As Einstein said, 'Science without religion is lame.
Religion without science is blind'. So, right from the start, let's be
clear. Let me make my main point right at the beginning. If anyone
tells you that you can't be a tip-top scientist and a committed
Christian at the same time, don't believe them for a moment. It simply
isn't true!
To kick off, we're going to explore a few avenues
from history of science. We discover, first of all, perhaps to our
surprise, that many of the early scientists who made ground-breaking
discoveries were convinced Christians. Take Isaac Newton (1642-1727),
for example, regarded by many as the greatest figure in the history of
science. He is said to have spent as much time in Bible study as in
scientific research.
Or Johannes Kepler (1571-1630), best
known for working out the laws of planetary motion. He felt that he
was 'thinking God's thoughts after him' and said 'I believe
only and alone in the service of Jesus Christ. In him is all refuge and
solace'. Or Francis Bacon (1561-1626), who laid the foundations for the
way science has been conducted ever since. He saw God as the author of
two 'books': his words in Scripture and his works in nature. As he
said, 'Let no one think or maintain that a person can search too far or
be too well studied in either the book of God's word or the book of
God's works'.
Or how about Michael Faraday (1791-1867) of whom
it's been said that, had he been alive in the era of Nobel Prizes, he
would have won at least eight of them! When he was close to death, a
friend visited him and asked, rather light-heartedly, "Sir Michael,
what speculations have you now?" Faraday's career had consisted of
making speculations about science and then dashing into the laboratory
to either prove or disprove them. But Faraday took it very seriously
and replied: "Speculations, man, I have none. I have certainties. I
thank God that I don't rest my dying head upon speculations for 'I know
whom I have believed and am persuaded that he is able to keep that
which I've committed unto him against that day'".
Finally,
there's James Maxwell (1831-1879), the first Cavendish Professor of
Physics at Cambridge University, who had the text of Psalm 111:2
inscribed in Latin over the archway of the newly-built Cavendish
Laboratory in 1874. When the lab moved to modern buildings on the
outskirts of Cambridge the text moved with it and it adorns the
entrance of the new Cavendish as it did that of the old, though now in
English: 'Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who
delight in them'.
Secondly, it's worth recognising that the
whole business of scientific research grew out of a world view based on
faith in God. For science to work, the universe has to be ordered and
rational - things have to be consistent from one day to the next. It's
in the nature of things that water boils at 100 degrees, full stop. We
don't have to worry about the possibility that it will do that today
but then might boil at only 90 degrees tomorrow. The universe is marked
by this sort of reliability and predictability. There's no particular
reason why this absolutely has to be so. But it is. And the idea that
we can rely on this, that it's worth exploring and experimenting, stems
from the dependability of the God revealed through Judaism and
Christianity, a God who is the faithful and omnipotent creator and
sustainer of all things. This is the fundamental reason science
developed as it did in the Middle Ages in Christian Europe, culminating
in the brilliant achievements of the seventeenth century and beyond. In
other words, as the historian and philosopher Herbert Butterfield put
it, 'Science is a child of Christian thought'.
Thirdly, as we
think about the relationship between science and religion, we need to
look at the downside. We need to take on the chin the fact that
religion has often tried to bat on a distinctly sticky wicket and done
itself no favours. Two people to think about - Galileo Galilei and
Charles Darwin.
Back in the 17th century, for example, Galileo
Galilei (1564-1642) looked at the planets through his new-fangled
telescope and was able to show fairly conclusively that the sun, rather
than the earth, is at the centre of the solar system. Unfortunately,
this didn't go down too well with the church authorities. The accepted
view of things was geocentrism (the earth at the centre). Heliocentrism
(the sun at the centre) was regarded as heretical. Why? Because of what
we now see as an inappropriately literal interpretation of verses like
Psalm 93:1, which says, '...The world is firmly established; it cannot
be moved.'
The result was that in 1633 Galileo was hauled in
and ordered to stand trial on suspicion of heresy. Despite his claim
that 'The Holy Scriptures are intended to teach men how to go to
heaven, not how the heavens go', he was required to recant his
heliocentric ideas, was ordered to be put in prison, (a sentence that
was later commuted to house arrest), and the book in which he had set
out his conclusions was banned. But even in Galileo's own lifetime, the
church's geocentrism was beginning to buckle under the sheer weight of
undeniable scientific evidence. Galileo was formally rehabilitated a
century after his death in 1741, when Pope Benedict XIV authorized the
publication of his complete scientific works. In 1758 the general
prohibition against heliocentrism was removed from the list of censored
books that Catholics aren't allowed to read (the Index Librorum
Prohibitorum). Finally, in 1992, 350 years after Galileo's death, Pope
John Paul II expressed regret for how the Galileo affair had been
handled.
Galileo's story illustrates a common problem. Religious
people have often taken a stand on an issue in what we later come to
see as the mistaken belief that to give way will fatally undermine the
basis of our faith. Of particular relevance to us in our studies of
Genesis is that fact that this is something that at least some
religious people still do when it comes to thinking about the creation
of the world. They certainly did to begin with.
Charles
Darwin's book 'On the Origin of the Species' was published in 1859. It
set out to show that all the different species of plants and animals we
see on the earth today are descended from a few, much simpler, ancient
species that gradually evolved over the course of millions of years.
Rather than being the special, individual handiwork of the Creator,
Darwin thought that all living species had developed solely through the
process of what we call 'natural selection', generally summarised as
the 'survival of the fittest'.
The book created a storm and
aroused strong opposition, not least among many of the leading
scientists of the day. The following year, the British Association for
the Advancement of Science was due to meet in Oxford. This was seen as
a marvellous opportunity for science to demonstrate its respectability
and crush Darwinism once and for all.
The scene was set for a
debate between the Bishop of Oxford, Samuel Wilberforce, known as
'Soapy Sam', and one of Darwin's friends, the biologist Thomas Huxley,
known as 'Darwin's Bulldog'. Bishop Wilberforce spoke powerfully,
ridiculing Darwin and heaping scorn on Huxley. Towards the end of his
speech he turned to Huxley and asked whether it was through his
grandfather or his grandmother that he claimed to be descended from a
monkey? Huxley got up and delivered a polite but pointed rebuttal to
each of the Bishop's arguments. He said there was nothing new in the
Bishop's speech except for the question about his ancestry. But Huxley
had an answer for that too. "If the question is put to me, 'Would I
rather have a miserable ape for a grandfather, or a man highly endowed
by nature and possessed of great means and influence, and yet who
employs these faculties and that influence for the mere purpose of
introducing ridicule into a grave scientific discussion' - I
unhesitatingly affirm my preference for the ape."
Insulting a
Bishop in those days was not the done thing and pandemonium broke out.
We're told that the clergy present roared their outrage and
disapproval, Darwin's supporters cheered, the undergraduates yelled for
both sides, and a Lady Brewster fainted and had to carried from the
room. After the din had died down, the Chairman of the meeting invited
Joseph Hooker, the nation's finest expert in botany, to close the
session. Emboldened by the response to what Huxley had said, Hooker
dismantled each of the points the bishop had made and exposed his
objections as worthless. "Obviously the Bishop has not read Darwin's
book and is obviously equally ignorant of the rudiments of botanical
science," he said. He added that "I knew of this theory fifteen years
ago. I was then entirely opposed to it... but since then I have devoted
myself unremittingly to natural history; in its pursuit I have
travelled around the world. Facts in this science which before were
inexplicable to me became, one by one, explained by this theory, and
conviction has been thus gradually forced upon an unwilling convert."
As
we know all too well, the general view in our culture is that there has
been a wide gulf between science and religion ever since. But how
unnecessary! Again, the religious men of the day took their stand on
ground that we now know to have been distinctly dodgy. There are loose
ends on both sides of the argument which make it unwise to be
completely dogmatic. But I'd want to argue that the best way of
understanding the two 'books' of God's works in nature and his words in
Scripture so that they don't contradict one another is to take what we
find in Genesis 1, not as a literal timetable of what God did in six
periods of 24 hours, but as a poetic expression of the order and beauty
of creation.
Fourthly, there's another series of mistakes which
we need to try and avoid. It's to do with trying to create a rigid
compartment for science and keeping it very separate from an equally
rigid compartment for God. So someone might try to be a good scientist
during the week and a good Christian on Sunday but never let the one
have any influence over the other. One way this can happen is if we
think of God merely as the 'God of the gaps'. The idea is this. When it
comes to scientific study, there's quite a lot that we have been able
to work out and that's great. But, as any scientist worth their salt
will readily admit, there's an enormous amount that we still don't have
a clue about - despite all the progress we have made. The trap that
some have fallen into is to say that the bits we can't explain are what
God does directly. He is seen as the 'God of the gaps'.
The
difficulty is, of course, that the gaps are getting smaller and
smaller. One of the amazing things about our God-given intelligence is
the way that each succeeding generation of scientists manages to find
answers to problems which had their predecessors completely foxed! But
to say that there's only room for God in the things we don't understand
is ridiculous. If he's any sort of God worth believing in, he must be
more than that. Either God is in every detail of his universe - like an
artist is indirectly revealed in every part of his canvas - or he's not
there at all. Either it's worth being a scientist and a Christian for
seven days a week - or it's not worth trying to be both at all.
Which
flows neatly into the fifth and final thing I want to do - which is to
suggest that there's a great deal to be said for regarding science and
religion as, not in competition with each other, or completely separate
from one another, but on the same side. To see them as entirely
compatible. To view them as complementing one another. Each has
distinctive insights to offer when it comes to discovering what 'life,
the universe and everything' is about. Each just needs to be careful
not to trespass unhelpfully on territory best covered by the other.
Perhaps it helps to think about the different ways in which we know
things. All of us, almost without thinking, make a distinction between
scientific knowledge and personal knowledge. Scientific knowledge is
about what we can describe and analyse and work out. It's about
answering the questions 'what?' and 'how?'. Whereas personal knowledge
is about who we can meet and relate to and encounter. It's more about
answering the questions 'what for?' and 'how come?'.
Imagine
an enormous cake being wheeled in on a trolley. We invite scientists
from various fields to analyse it and tells us about its nutritional
value and chemical analysis and so on in great detail. They produce an
enormously long report which tells us all we need to know - and much
more besides. Apart from the answer to the question 'Why did someone
make this cake?' For that we need the cook to step forward and tell us
that she made it for her nephew's birthday.
Our universe is
full of things to explore and discover. Science is a never-ending
voyage of wonderful discovery. But for the answer to the question
'why?' we need to pay attention to the ways in which the Maker has
chosen to make himself known. When it comes to science and religion
it's not either-or but both-and.
© 2007 David Stone |