Monthly Archives for January 2008

Politics revisited

I’m starting to read the news again, now that the Presidential race is underway for real. So far, I haven’t become depressed, which is a big step for me. Actually, I am surprised at how detached I am about the election. I can actually see photos of Hillary without my blood pressure rising. I guess my “news sabbatical” paid off.

This year’s race should prove to be interesting. It looks like for the first time in history, we are guaranteed that the Democratic candidate will be a minority. Barak Obama, is more or less black, and Hillary is technically a female, although she appears to have more testosterone than some of the male candidates we’ve seen. And, contrary to the bizarre fundamentalist e-mails making the rounds, Obama is not a Muslim.

On the Republican side, we now have three “iffy” candidates. Romney, of course, is a Mormon; perhaps we should see who their new “prophet” is before we decide on him. Huckabee is a radically beyond-conservative Christian, who has some very not-mainstream ideas about the role of religion and politics. He scares me, but it looks like we won’t have to worry about him, as he’s falling way behind. And then there’s McCain, who scares me more than anyone. It seems apparent to me that he’s got some issues, and I wonder if he may not have some latent PTSD. Besides, he’s pulled some sneaky underhanded stunts in the last year or two, and I don’t think we can trust him. Of the three, I’d have to choose Romney, who overall seems like a nice, honest guy.

Overall, the Republican race is boring, and in my opinion none of them really deserve to be President. The Democratic side, on the other hand, has more intrigue than a David Baldacci novel. Obama is doing his best to keep the upper hand, while Bill plays the hatchet man for Hillary. Although, Bill has been so over the top – and now it comes out that he’s still selling his political clout to the highest bidder – that I wonder if he’s really trying to tank Hillary, or at least give her someone to blame if she loses.

Hillary is the most interesting candidate, mainly because she’s so hard to figure out. I don’t think we’ve ever seen the “real” Hillary; I suspect everything she does is an act. We should be calling her “the chameleon,” as she tries to blend in to whatever situation suits her. She’s liberal one day, conservative the next, an overcomer one day, and a victim the next. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why anyone would vote for her. I dont’ think that anyone really likes her; I mean, how could you, really? Friendship usually implies some kind of trust – and from what I’ve heard from ex-”friends,” trust is one thing you can’t do to Hillary.

Obama impresses me, even though I probably disagree with much of his politics. I think he, of all the candidates, is the most humble and even-keeled. He is able to present his thoughts in a very clear, well-reasoned way, and he – as Caroline Kennedy has said – is inspirational in a way that we haven’t seen for a while. He also presents his Christianity in a very sound way, and seems to have really thought through the issues of faith and politics. He, and perhaps Romney, have the greatest potential to unite the country.

At the moment, I’m supporting Obama – the first time I will have voted for a Democrat in my life. If Hillary gets the nomination, then I’ll vote against her. But, if McCain is the Republican candidate, I may just stay home.What will be really interesting is if Hillary and McCain end up on the final ticket. That, at least, will be a campaign to watch. As BTO sang, b-b-b-baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

Webber: The Divine Embrace 3

The primary difference between the Reformation and the modern period of history is that the Reformation looked backward to regain the source of ancient church while the modern era, shaped by an anti-historical attitude, looked forward.

As Webber explains in Chapter 3 of The Divine Embrace, the Reformers considered the Roman Church from about 1300 to 1500 to have been a departure from the original faith (and, as I’ve said before, Luther referred to earlier popes for authority in arguing his position to the then current Catholic Church). Luther and other reformers keyed on 2 central issues: the inability of man to choose God, and God’s initiative to become joined to humanity. This focus parallels the Eastern Orthodox concept of theosis – the real participation of man in the incarnation, death and resurrection of Jesus. In other words, “God becomes one of us so that we may become one with God.”

However, Webber points out that the reformers were still a part of a scholastic kind of theology that went back to Aquinas and Augustine. Contemplation and Participation, the earlier focuses, were replaced by the concepts of justification and sanctification. This, Webber explains,

set up what was to become a severe problem in the modern era – the separation of spirituality from a relational, lived theology to a spirituality rooted in a forensic justification … This turning eventually meant that justification became the focus of an intellectual spirituality and sanctification was turned toward a preoccupation with experience.”

Amen. Following the Reformation (from 1500 to about 1750) came the Enlightenment. Where the Bible was the authority during the Reformation years, science and reason became the authority during the Enlightenment. “Thinking,” says Webber, “was based on a distinction between the object and the subject.” The world, including the Bible and spirituality, became something to be studied and analyzed. Furthermore, the modern world became “preoccupied with facts.” Anything that did not fall within the realm of objective fact was opinion, including religion.

As a result, theologians started applying rules of reason and science to the Bible and theology, and apologetics was born. This was a total break from Reformationist thinking, as

The Reformers did not seek to prove Scripture. They simply spoke out of a Scriptural worldview. For them, the story of God did not need to be proven; it simply needed to be proclaimed.

Spirituality – the living out of our faith – changed as well. Where the Reformers saw justification and sanctification within the context of union with God, modern Christians began to see justification as something objective, resulting in our right standing before God. In essence, the incarnational understanding of Christianity was lost, and therefore sanctification became a works-oriented endeavor.

I’ll stop here, and pick up next time with the end of Chapter 3 where Webber discusses the Romantic movement – the antithetical reaction to modernism – and its impact on spirituality.

As I read through Webber’s discussion of modernism, it occurred to me that we are, in a sense, still prisoners of modernism. It is almost impossible for us to conceive of a non-modern concept. Even post-modernism – as much as some would like to deny it – is rooted firmly in modernism.  Many years ago, I remember having a missionary from Hong Kong come and speak to my Sunday School class (I was probably in Jr. High). I was upset at her comments – that we in American will never be able to understand the Bible as well as the kids in Hong Kong because we in the West have stopped thinking like the people who wrote the Bible. However, through the years I have seen that she was very right. This was true of me, even though I was raised in a Lutheran church, being taught from Luther’s pre-modern catechism. It’s funny how our modern thinking changes the way we interpret concepts.

The adventure continues …

Faith and doubt

Faith is very often understood by people as a defeat of intelligence. In other words, faith begins when I can no longer think creatively, when I let go o any attempt at rational understanding, and when I say ‘I believe’ because it is so absurd that it is the only way of facing the problem. … But this is not faith as understood by the great men of all religions, and particularly the Christian faith. Anthony Bloom, God and Man

This misunderstanding is what is usually discussed by secularists who attempt to draw distinctions between “faith” (used disparagingly) and what can be “known” through reason and science. While there are, of course, many people whose faith could fall into this “bad” faith. However, while it may serve the purpose of materialists to categorize all instances of faith as this bad faith, this becomes something of a straw man argument, as it is based on what is called a hasty generalization, a logical fallacy which presumes that certain traits of a small sample are held in common in a larger population.

Anthony Bloom takes a rather interesting approach to the issue of faith, as he was educated in the sciences prior to his becoming a priest, by comparing the skepticism of the scientist to the doubt encountered by Christians. First, however, he explains that faith which is based solely on the trust of what others say is inadequate, and will often be lost to doubt when challenged by life experiences or other contrary information. Faith, to him, must be verified by personal experience; otherwise, it remains something which requires further investigation.

He also discusses the subjective element of knowledge. When we experience something, at that particular moment we cannot be objective about it. Our objectivity, as well as our faith, begins the moment after. We have certainty about what we experienced, but we are no longer experiencing it; that moment has passed. He quotes the definition of faith from Hebrews 11, that faith is the “certainty of things unseen,” saying “We usually lay the stress on ‘things unseen’ and forget the ‘certainty’ about them.

This reminds me of the film Contact, based on the book by Carl Sagan (who, by the way, worked on the screenplay, but died during the movie’s production). The movie makes some very interesting changes from the book, spending more time focusing on the concept of belief. (Warning, plot spoiler ahead!) At the end of the film, Jodi Foster is faced with having this certainty of belief based on her subjective experience, without the benefit of any objective evidence. It would seems that in some respects, especially if you’re a fan of Schroedinger, that there is no such thing as purely objective scientific belief; it is all based on a subjective moment. Science, however, hopes to be able to repeat these subjective moments to create some consistent objective data.

Bloom suggests that Christians should adopt the scientists’ attitude toward doubt: “For the scientist, doubt is a systematic weapon; it is a joy.” Christians, on the other hand, often take a different attitude toward doubt, reacting with anguish. Bloom goes on to explain the scientists’ methods, explaining that if a scientist is merely interested in protecting his reputation, he will defend his model from any criticism. However, a good scientist creates models specifically with the intent of breaking them, so he can create better models:

At the root of the scientist’s activity there is the certainty that what he is doubting is the model he has invented … But what he is also absolutely certain of is that the reality which is beyond his model is in no danger if his model collapses (emphasis mine). The reality is stable, it is there; the model is an inadequate expression of it, but the reality doesn’t alter because the model shakes.

Bloom then suggests that “truth” can be substituted for “model,” suggesting that truth (as we know it):

is something which is an expression of reality, and an expression means two things: first, that the reality which surrounds us in perceived (obviously incompletely; secondly, that it is expressed (also incompletely …).

He compares our understanding of truth to a snapshot, which is a perfect representation of a slice of reality, but which is a false representation of the whole of reality. Our knowledge of truth is, to some extent static whereas reality is dynamic. Our theologies, our philosophies, as with our scientific models, are therefore falsified as we try to represent something beyond the model.

His point, again, is that as Christians, we should embrace doubt – which is not complete loss of belief but rather the recognition that our model may be inadequate – as the scientist doubts, because the scientist “believes in the reality beyond and not in the model he has constructed.”

A couple of comments on Bloom’s thinking: First, he is obviously speaking in very ideal terms about the methods of scientists. As has been discussed about the recent publication on ID by the NAS, as well as with topics like global warming, there seems to be a lot of model protecting going on. I’ve seen this justified and rationalized, but the fact remains that this is model-protecting. Some is based on what is needed to secure and maintain funding, or issues relating to tenure, and so on, but it is naive to think that all science functions as Bloom suggests.

Also, while I agree generally with Bloom’s thoughts about doubt, I think we can question that application of the scientific method as it pertains to issues of theology and philosophy. As will be discussed in connection with my series on Webber’s The Divine Embrace, this way of thinking presumes a Modernist mindset. I think we need to see the scientific method as a tool, and a limited tool at that; I think we err in assuming that science and logic have the last word when it comes to truth or reality.

A little humor

Need a little out of the ordinary humor? Look here, and here.

The Divine Embrace 2: heresy vs. spirituality

Webber, as I mentioned in part 1 of this series, defines spirituality as “a lived theology.” That is, Biblical spirituality is based on the core teachings of the Church, as expressed in the earliest creeds. The early heresies, such as Gnosticism and Arianism not only challenged theological ideas, but challenged those areas that directly impacted how we are to live. The Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds specifically affirmed the Incarnation, the “God joined with man” concept that is essential to any understanding of what it means to be a Christian. Early Church theology, as does Orthodox theology today (and a similar concept in Lutheranism) is that of Theosis, or man becoming God (essentially, “Christ-like,” rather than equal to God). It is the principal of God becoming man that makes it possible for man to become joined to God.

Furthermore, this spirituality is solely at God’s initiative. The Pelagian heresy taught that man could achieve holiness through his own will. It was Augustine who argued that “a man’s free choice avails only to lead him to sin.” Pelagianism was rejected at the Council of Carthage in AD 407, which agreed that “our spirituality is not accomplished by our initiative but by God, who became incarnate…” It is only Jesus who can unite us to God.

Early Christian spirituality, says Webber, was a theological spirituality; that is, the theology was not meant to be merely believed, it was meant to be lived. The concept of the Trinity, for example, is essentially relational or communal; therefore, there can be no such thing as an individualistic spirituality. He quotes Philip Sheldrake as saying,

The incarnation is more than a defense of the reality … of the human nature of Jesus Christ. It is a governing principle of Christian living; of God’s way of relating to creation and our way of response.

Spirituality, then, is participating in the purposes of God in history, at the initiative of God.

Webber goes on in Chapter 2 to explain how Platonic Dualism began to distort the original concept of spirituality. Plato, as we know, saw the material world as inferior to the Ideal world, separating the physical from the spiritual. This way of thinking began to creep into the Church, causing a shift in contemplation from God as subject, to God as object. God was no longer the origin of our spirituality, the One who reached out to us, but spirituality became our way of reaching out to God. Spirituality shifted from being a gift of God’s grace to a striving after grace. That which was physical and normal to life became seen as evil, and only the spiritual was seen as good.

A second crucial shift in contemplation came in the late Medieval period, with the rise of mysticism. Where earlier contemplation was focused on the purposes of God (creating, incarnation and re-creating) of which we were the beneficiaries, now contemplation was focused on man’s experience, as he tried to grab hold of God. It was a shift of focus from God’s work toward us, to our work toward God. Furthermore, this shift caused a split between theology and spirituality, which now became a “spiritual discipline.” In man’s seeking after God, his relationship with God then started to take on a romantic aspect.

It is amazing for me to read Webber’s account and see these influences still at work in – and sometimes controlling – the church today. What really grabbed me was this comment by Webber:

… the language of spirituality moved from the “indescribable wonder of God” to the “wonderfully indescribable experience of God.” …spirituality expressed a movement away from “God’s story,” to “my story.” …

Consequently, participation in God shifted from life-affirming spirituality to a life-denying spirituality.

Webber’s correct, here, I believe. Of course, if you’ve read through this blog over the last couple of years, you’ll see that I’ve been on a similar track. But, Webber actually knows what he’s talking about, and he says things so much better than I can.

I have not done this chapter justice at all, but merely tried to pick out a few of the highlights, so you’ll be encouraged to buy the book, or at least begin to think about these things. Next time, we’ll move into Chapter 3, dealing with the Reformation to 1900. After than, he deals with Modernism in Chapter 4, and post-Modernism in Chapter 5. Then, he gets us back to the Good News. I can hardly wait.

Two views of Scripture

Some time ago I wrote a bit about the authority of the Bible, which you can read here. Beneath the issues of orthodoxy, orthopraxy, theology and denominationalism we will often find some discussion about the Scriptures, with questions as seemingly elementary as, “what constitutes Scripture?” We are taught as children that the Bible consists of 66 books, beginning with Genesis, ending with Revelation, all inspired by the Holy Spirit (the Aprocrapha is, of course, not inspired). We even somehow think that the order of the books is important, sometimes judging those who don’t know where Romans is.

This morning I read a couple of very interesting posts on the subject on the internet monk blog. The first is by Michael Spencer (the IM himself – he’s actually Baptist, I think), who identifies himself as a “post-evangelical,” which he defines elsewhere on his blog. The second post (on the same internet monk site) is by guest-poster Josh Stodtbeck, a Lutheran blogger who gives a Lutheran perspective on the Scriptural Canon.

Both posts raise very interesting issues and challenges with regard to how militant we can be concerning our position on the Canon of Scripture. As I think I’ve mentioned before, it is interesting to note that based on what we read in the New Testament, the “Word of God” does not seem limited to anything which was written down, and in fact, seems to speak of oral testimony. It would seem that some fundamentalist approaches to the Bible, while trying to raise the stature of the Bible and encourage faith by assigning adjectives such as inerrant, may in fact have the opposite effect.

As Paul told Timothy, all scripture is inspired by God. However, as I realized some years ago, in context we see that Paul was referring to that “scripture” which Timothy learned as a child. While I do not doubt the inspiration of the New Testament books, it seems fitting to ask (and not assume), “What did Paul mean by ‘scripture?’” Michael Spencer writes:

It is important, however, to note that the term “scripture” was not synonymous with “approved canon.” It is apparent that Jewish writers could use the term “scripture” in a much broader sense than we would use the word “canon,” and that books not included in canonical lists might be referred to as scripture. This seems to provide strong evidence that there are books- such as the Apocryphal books- that may have been quoted as “scripture” while not appearing universally on all Jewish lists of canon. In fact, it’s clear that the Jewish canon was never as settled as the retelling of the canonical tale might sometimes imply. This suggests that the category of “beneficial, but not authoritative” should be applied to some writings, and that supplemental collections of non-canonical books and readings are appropriate.

Spencer’s post give’s his own, “post-evangelical” views. Mr. Stodtbeck presents a Lutheran understanding of the Canon and how it works in practice; that is, how it impacts Lutheran theology. For example, he discusses how not all books were unanimously adopted into the Canon; some books, like Revelation, were highly contested:

An example of the application of this is that Lutherans will never make some particular interpretation of Revelation a church-defining issue. Yes, we preach from it, write commentaries in it, and read it in our lectionaries, but because the early church witness to the origin of this book is divided, our confessional principles on eschatology are ultimately drawn from the Gospels and Epistles.

You may not agree with either position, but if you have any interest at all in the subject, I think you’ll find the articles worth your time.

Evangelical Modernism

Perhaps I’m getting a little bit ahead of myself here, as I’m taking topics discussed by Webber out of order; however, I was reading a blog post this morning that got me thinking along these lines, and it seemed fitting to comment while my thoughts were fresh (their shelf-life isn’t that long anymore). I am thinking out loud, for the most part, so take that into consideration as you read.

It seems to me that one of the major issues with the Evangelical church (“Evangelical” in this sense referring to post-reformation churches, even though Luther used the term to refer to his movement) is that it is completely and solidly rooted in Modernism. One of the most irritating qualities of Modernism is the almost essential arrogance that comes from the belief in progress; that is, that “new” is better than “old.” Evangelicalism seems to exhibit the same tendency to believe in theological “progress,” as well as the resulting sense of arrogance in how they deal with past theological positions. While many would argue, especially in the case of fundamentalists, that this is absurd, I think in the “big picture” it makes sense.

With Evangelicalism, there are some basic presumptions that may not be true. One such presumption is that it is an advancement to think of theology almost as a science, being able to break large concepts down into minute detail and argue over the fine points. This scientific approach has, as Webber points out, reduced theology to a set of facts or propositions which can – and must – be believed. This systematic approach appears to have a goal of eradicating any sort of mystery from theology, believing that we can reason our way through our faith. Our faith (as Webber also points out) can then conceivably be conveyed to others in a logical, reasoned way, what we think of a “apologetics.” Evangelicals reason their way to truth, whereas the reformers simply proclaimed it.

Years ago I had a friend who was a Greek Orthodox priest, born and raised in Greece. One day a few of us were dialogging on matters of faith, and another friend of mind tried to get Father Nick to explain the Orthodox position on some hot theolgical topic. I was intrigued so much by Father Nick’s response that I have never forgotten it. He was somewhat frustrated with the conversation, and merely said, “We don’t think that way.” When my friend couldn’t believe that the Orthodox Church had no position on Biblical inerrancy, he replied, “we’ve just never questioned it.” He went on to try to explain his frustration with the Western way of picking things apart into little pieces, and how he felt more in common with a Muslim raised in the East than with a Christian from the West, because of the extreme differences in worldview. Who is more correct? What’s your criteria for deciding?

The Church of the West, especially the Evangelical church, presupposes that the Modern approach to theology and spirituality is necessarily better than what came before, that our perspective has been able to identify errors of the past and better refine the issues. It’s progress. Now, I won’t dispute that some discoveries of earlier manuscripts have allowed for a bit of Biblical fine-tuning, however, these things have been fairly minor. However, I think I am correct when I say that people like Augustine and Martin Luther would consider most if not all of the Evangelical church to be heretical. Is it progress, or simply a 200-year deviation?

Another issue with the Evangelical church today, which is in part a result of that “progressive arrogance,” is its lack of knowledge – or even interest – of anything outside of Evangelicalism. Some have a very loose understanding of the Roman Catholic Church, and Calvin’s been updated to fit some modern Reformed theology, but very few have even a mediocre grasp of what I will call Liturgical Christianity – the Lutherans, Anglicans and Orthodox. Infant baptism, for example, is argued against by people who really have no clue as to its theological and anthropological basis. Consequently, the resulting discussion is meaningless from a pre-Evangelical point of view.

Part of the problem is that Evangelicalism is largely an experience-based religion, and most Evangelicals have never experienced – or felt it necessary to experience – anything else. They were raised or converted in Evangelical Churches, and were also born and raised (for the most part) into Modernism, or converted from liturgical churches into Evangelical churches as having a more “modern” theology (more on this in another post). There are no catechism or church history classes, the creeds are not taught, and it’s lucky if these people even know the Lord’s Prayer. There’s a big emphasis on “Bible,” but only as interpreted by their own pastor or group.

The result is a perpetuation of a movement which may, in fact, be heretical. (As I mentioned, it is, by pre-Evangelical thinking.) Those indoctrinated into Modernism and Evangelicalism may now be reacting with some incredulity at this comment; that would be the arrogance I mentioned, that sense of needing to be “right.” It’s okay, it’s natural. I know, as I experience it myself; but, I’m trying to get over it.

This was not, by the way, a summary of Webber, just some of my thoughts as I’m reading a variety of things. I will outline some of Webber’s thoughts in the next few days.

Webber: The Divine Embrace 1

The other evening I sat down to finish The Bourne Legacy (which I’ll be blogging on soon), but first started to page through the books I had just received from Amazon. I turned to Chapter 2 of Robert Webber’s The Divine Embrace, and was immediately hooked. Even though the hour was late – normally too late for serious reading – I just couldn’t put the book down. Jason Bourne will just have to hang on for another day or two…

Chapter 2 of Webber is entitled A Historical Perspective I (AD 30 – 1500), where he outlines the history of Christian thought concerning the topic of spirituality, which he defines as “a lived theology.” His concept of spirituality is essentially the concept that I have been working under for the past few years, that the type of God that we believe in (or, who we believe that God is) determines how we will live our lives. Conversely, I also believe that the way we live our lives reveals what we believe about God (our theology). Webber strongly makes the point that theology and spirituality cannot – or should not – be separated from each other. They key, rather, to understanding spirituality is in a “lived theology … found in God’s vision of creation, incarnation and re-creation.”

Webber shows how the development of the creeds were more than just theological statements (in the modern sense), they were affirmations of the Biblical spirituality that was under attack by various heresies. The Apostles Creed is the most basic and fundamental of the creeds, countered gnosticism, which taught a spirituality based on freeing the spirit from the bondage of the fallen, physical realm. The Apostle’s Creed very strongly affirms the incarnation, and was seen by the early Church as a guideline for the Christian life, not just belief.

It is interesting, reading through Webber, how certain elements of the heresies of the early church are still around, challenging a true Biblical spirituality. In fact, much (and perhaps post) of evangelicalism functions under some form of one or more of these early heresies, and absolutely functions under non-Biblical post-medieval philosophies. Over the past year I’ve grown increasingly disillusioned with Evangelical theology and practice, as has been evident on this blog. As I’ve dug a bit more into the theological and philosophical history of the church, the Evangelical church seems to have less and less to offer. And, the post-modern, “emerging” church is in no better shape.

Webber, however, is doing something other than confirming what I’ve already been thinking, he’s pointed out some errors in my own thinking, that I thought I had already repaired. This is exciting… As I’ve just posted on skepticism and having our beliefs challenged, I am truly excited when I discover possible errors in my own thinking, and perhaps have an opportunity to correct those errors.

I’ll start posting a series on this book, outlining his main points and giving my own thoughts. As always, feel free to comment along the way.

What a fool believes

But what a fool believes he sees
No wise man has the power to reason away
What seems to be
Is always better than nothing

- What a Fool Believes, Michael McDonald & Kenny Loggins

There have been some interesting comments in the last couple of days on relating to faith and belief. Coincidentally, yesterday I ran across the new 2008 The World Question Center question, “WHAT HAVE YOU CHANGED YOUR MIND ABOUT? WHY?

Most of what I’ve read so far has actually be pretty disappointing, with some people clearly not wanting to admit they’ve changed their mind at all about anything important. However, I was a bit intrigued by the answer from Rupert Sheldrake, who I admit I’ve never heard of. However, he’s apparently smart enough for someone to have felt that he may have changed his mind about something important. Whoever he is, he seems to be something of a cynic; probably not the sort to expect to liven up a party. His answer begins,

I used to think of skepticism as a primary intellectual virtue, whose goal was truth. I have changed my mind. I now see it as a weapon.

Well, alrighty then. Kind of makes you sorry you asked. He then credits this revelation to the Creationists:

Creationists opened my eyes. They use the techniques of critical thinking to expose weaknesses in the evidence for natural selection, gaps in the fossil record and problems with evolutionary theory. Is this because they are seeking truth? No. They believe they already know the truth. Skepticism is a weapon to defend their beliefs by attacking their opponents.

He rather fair-handedly points to the use of skepticism as a form of counter-argument in business, religion (of course), and even science. Although he does seem, as I’ve said, to be a rather dour fellow, I would tend to agree with him that skepticism is not usually objective. But then, I don’t see how it really could be. If someone came to you with a new, rather remarkable scientific discovery, most people would tend to respond either positively (“cool! let’s see if we can do it again!”) or negatively (“that doesn’t seem right, you’d better double-check your math”). And, I don’t see a problem with either one. The scientific process would seem to benefit from testing by both sides.

Sheldrake concludes,

In practice, the goal of skepticism is not the discovery of truth, but the exposure of other people’s errors. It plays a useful role in science, religion, scholarship, and common sense. But we need to remember that it is a weapon serving belief or self-interest; we need to be skeptical of skeptics. The more militant the skeptic, the stronger the belief.

Here, we must be careful. is there only one goal of skepticism? I don’t think so; certainly the discovery of truth could be a goal of skepticism, along with showing error. If we don’t try to expose errors, then we certainly have no interest in the truth (this is perhaps a bigger problem than insincere skeptics). The Apostle Paul, in 1 Corinthians, even mentions the positive side of quarrels, as serving to show who is indeed correct. Again, without the challenge of thinkers who disagree, error would continue.

In many instances, however, I think Mr. Sheldrake is correct. Some playing the role of skeptics may have no interest in truth, but rather are trying to obfuscate the truth. We must indeed be skeptical of the motivation of skeptics, however be willing to engage even an insincere skepticism when it serves the purpose of testing that which is held as truth. Only a fool (tying this back to the opening lyrics) fails to entertain challenges to his position.

On Faith & Belief: The NAS doth protest too much, methinks

According to the recently published tract from the NAS, entitled Science, Evolution, and Creationism, the “materialism of the gaps” approach is apparently the new scientific method:

Even if their negative arguments against evolution were correct, that would not establish the creationists’ claims. There may be alternative explanations. For example, it would be incorrect to conclude that because there is no evidence that it is raining outside, it must be sunny. Other explanations also might be possible.

The NAS apparently sees an evil monster out there that must be killed at all costs. It doesn’t seem to matter that the major proponents of Intelligent Design (who, once again, don’t all consider themselves “Creationists”) and other Darwin-doubters are not proposing that ID is a scientific theory or that it be taught in schools as science. They are merely suggesting that science be taught as science, and let people draw whatever philosophical conclusions are appropriate. However, apparently the skepticism which is so important to science has its limits:

In science, a “fact” typically refers to an observation, measurement, or other form of evidence that can be expected to occur the same way under similar circumstances. However, scientists also use the term “fact” to refer to a scientific explanation that has been tested and confirmed so many times that there is no longer a compelling reason to keep testing it or looking for additional examples. In that respect, the past and continuing occurrence of evolution is a scientific fact. Because the evidence supporting it is so strong, scientists no longer question whether biological evolution has occurred and is continuing to occur.

Scientists no longer question …;” therefore, this implies, those who question the assumptions made by Darwinists are not scientists. And, presumably, neither was Copernicus, who dared question the consensus belief of his day in the “fact” of Ptolemy’s cosmology.

So, why is the NAS so nervous? As I’m sure I’ve said before, if the science behind Darwinism is as solid as they insist, why do they have to work so hard to deflect any criticism (skepticism)? As my friend Mike commented yesterday,

It takes so much effort to believe that we will grasp at any straw we can. Nobody in science claims that there are any absolutes, that all is a matter of probability.

Mike was referring to religious belief, but it seems that the NAS finds itself in a similar position. Perhaps the probabilities are not quite as strong as the NAS would like to think? Perhaps they should consider that in literature and movies, it is the preservationist “old guard” who always comes off looking foolish.

Anthony Bloom sees the issue of belief to be similar for both theology and science. He writes in God & Man in the chapter entitled Doubt and the Christian Life (p. 36):

At the root of the scientist’s activity there is the certainty that what he is doubting is the model he has invented … But what he is also absolutely certain of is that the reality which is beyond his model is in no danger if his model collapses. The reality is stable, it is there; the model is an inadequate expression if it, but the reality doesn’t alter because the model shakes.

If, then, we are truly seeking truth, we should have no strangle hold on the model; we know, after all, that it is imperfect and it is our job to doubt the model. The alternative – in the theological realm, anyway – is nothing less than idolatry. In the field of science, it simply becomes something other than science, which brings me back to the NAS’ pre-Copernican mentality. Note that I’m not dealing with the specifics of any scientific or non-scientific argument; to drop into a Darwin v Creation argument here is missing the larger point.

Actually, this is all really an introduction to the nature of belief and faith, which is something I’ll write about in the days to come. The NAS’ little tract seemed a good non-theological introduction to the topic.