THE THEOLOGIAN
SAID TO THE SCIENTIST
Rev. Alfred Williams
Ladera Community Church
May 25, 2008
Isaiah 40:12-14, 25-31
Prayer: Holy God: beyond the accustomed reach of our minds and grasp of our faculties, sharpen our senses and deepen our insightfulness into the meanings and the mysteries of this life entrusted to us, for your Love’s sake. Amen.
The theologian said to the scientist, “We need to talk.” And why shouldn’t they? After all, both science and theology emerge from the same human mind and both are engaged in what is essentially the same endeavor – to understand life and the universe; to make sense out of human experience. At their best they have much in common. Both stand in awe of existence – be it the expanse of the cosmos and the intricacies of the cell and the atom, or the mysteries of life and death and the paradoxes of judgment and grace. At their best, both scientists and theologians go about their work with disciplined modesty and open-ended inquiry.
Robert Sapulsky, Professor of Neurology and Neurological Sciences at Stanford, describes the scientist’s search of truth:
“Science isn’t remotely about a scientist announcing truths or The Truth. It’s about stating things with a certain degree of certainty. A scientist will say, ‘In this experiment, I observed that A causes B; it didn’t happen every single time, and my statistical analyses show that I can be X percent certain that this A/B connection didn’t happen by chance.’”
Sapulsky goes on to say:
“I’m not trying to be a postmodernist gibbering about how science is a purely subjective process and there are no objective truths. There are truths, and scientific knowledge produces temporary points of solid ground in pursuit of them.
“But an observable must have predictive power and be capable of independent replication by others. And scientists must be willing to abandon supposed knowledge when a completely different explanation arises.” 1
Though I am not so naïve as to assert that a majority of theologians today pursue their work with the scientist’s discipline and openness, I do believe that an increasing number of theologians are humbled by the impossibility of the task to which they commit themselves. In the words of Alan Paton,
“Theologians thrust their heads through the stars, searching the void for the Incomprehensible and Holy. Like a searchlight their intellect probes the darkness to and fro unceasingly, aware that the universe of the intellect is not the universe of God and God is not captured in it.” 2
I once heard a theologian described as a blind man in a windowless room on a moonless night at midnight searching for a black cat that wasn’t there. Except that the theologian trusts – as does the scientist - that truth is there, if not to be captured, then to be better understood. In that sense, both scientists and theologians are people of faith.
Now let’s be clear. There are significant differences between the focus and the methods of scientists and theologians. Broadly speaking, scientists focus attention on structure and order (on the what and the how).
Theologians focus on purpose and meaning (on the why and to what end). Because of their specific focus, theologians are unable to use the tools and techniques and procedures available to the scientist. Theologians rely much more on the cumulative insight of tradition, on metaphorical language, and on disciplined practices of meditation and contemplation that delve deeply into the inner self.
The theologian inquires about the objects of our trust and loyalty, the character of our ultimate concerns, the final justification for our values. Inevitably, the work of the theologian is self-involving and elicits personal involvement.
No, science and theology are not the same. But even though there are differences in the way scientists and theologians go about trying to comprehend life and the universe, there are also convergences and crossovers. For that reason the committed theologian and the dedicated scientist have every reason to engage one another in dialogue.
There is every reason for the theologian to ask the scientist, “What you are learning?” For instance, is the report accurate that ‘meaning, belief, and consciousness emerge mysteriously from idiosyncratic networks of neural firings in the brain?’ Is there a possibility that ‘emotions play a significant role in all forms of thinking?’ Is there solid evidence that ‘love is vital to brain development?’ What of the research suggesting that ‘genes are not merely selfish?’ That ‘people seem to have deep instincts for fairness, empathy and attachment?’ Or what about the findings of Andrew Newburg of the University of Pennsylvania, that ‘transcendent experiences can actually be identified and measured in the brain,’ (something about a decrease in the activity in that part of the brain which orients us in space)? 3
One theologian extremely interested in this particular area of research is the Dalai Lama. It is said that the Dalai Lama keeps a plastic model of the human brain with detachable parts on his desk at home. Which may explain why the Dalai Lama spent three days last year at Stanford Medical School in dialogue with faculty members: neurosurgeons, neurologists, psychologists and psychiatrists. I am told that next year the Dalai Lama may again meet with faculty members at Stanford Medical School focusing on compassion.4
There is one good reason for theologians to know what scientists are learning. That reason is this. Theologians who are aware of and humbled by the limits of their five senses and finite brains, know full well that even the most profound theologies are ‘ladders to heaven made of sticks and stones.’ They know that the most they can do is fashion metaphors: finite words, poetic figures of speech that point beyond themselves to transcendent truth. Metaphors, created from the stuff of what we know of the world around us – or what we think we know – at any one time and place.
But times change and so does knowledge of our world. Woe to the theologians who cling to metaphors fashioned by old understandings that new, well-documented science has replaced. For example, deliver us from theologians who continue to speak of a static universe, dismissing the evidence that the cosmos is in constant process of change and evolution. The phrase, “God is still speaking,” is an apt metaphor for a God of ceaseless creativity in a constantly changing universe. And far more theologically profound than we may realize!
There is another important reason for theologians and scientists to talk. Theologians and scientists share an ethical responsibility for the stewardship of life and the enhancement of creation’s worth and dignity. Let me ask you all for an off-the-top-of-your-head response. Name one crucial ethical issue about which you believe science and religion should be in dialogue? I am convinced that most if not all of those issues need the disciplined research of the “what and how” that comes from science and the insightful wisdom of the “ought and why” that comes from religion and the humanities.
Let me close with a suggestion made by Bill King, Lutheran campus minister at Virginia Tech. Bill King is convinced that the really crucial conversations involving science and religion are not conducted at professional meetings between scholars, but day in and day out as persons influenced by scientific perspectives consider the claims of religious faith.
King believes it is important for people of religion to support and encourage those whose vocation is science, and to engage them in conversation. How to begin such a conversation? King suggests something as simple as an earnest inquiry over coffee, when the person of faith says to the person of science, “With what issues do you struggle in your scientific work?” And when the person of science says to the person of faith, “What insights does your faith bring to these issues?”5
William Bragg, a pioneer in the field of X-ray crystallography, was asked whether science and theology are opposed to one another. “Yes,” he replied, “but in the same sense that my thumb and my forefinger are opposed to one another – between them I can grasp everything.” Bill King comments, “Perhaps, between science and theology, we cannot grasp everything, but surely the combination reveals more of the cosmic mystery than either can touch alone.” Which encourages me to say: “Theologians and scientists, both professional and armchair, we need to talk.” 6
NOTES
- Atlantic Monthly, June 2008, p. 60.
- Meditation for a Young Boy Confirmed, pp. 3-4, Forward Movement Publication.
- The Neural Buddhists, Op-Ed page, New York Times, May 13, 2008.
- Thunder from Tibet, The New York Review of Books, p. 48, May 29, 2008.
- The Christian Century, July 2-9, 1986, pp. 611-614.
- Ibid.
