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 |
