In the beginning

First, an explanation concerning the "we" in this paper. In November 1997 after a faculty meeting on questions dealing with the core curriculum at Saint Vincent College, Dr. John Smetanka of the Physics Department asked Father Campion Gavaler of the Religious Studies Department if he would be interested in getting together to talk about the relation between science and religion. In our initial meeting we agreed to continue our conversation with a two-fold purpose:

1. to enjoy the experience of talking about a very complex and interesting subject, and
2. to prepare a summary of our conversations for use in the science and religious studies courses that we teach.

We invite you to join the conversation: in person, or send comments to Dr. John Smetanka (e-mail: smetanka@acad1.stvincent.edu or via ground mail: Saint Vincent College, Department of Physics, 300 Fraser Purchase Road, Latrobe, PA 15650).

Our conversation about science and religion takes place in a post-modern world. We no longer live in the "modern" world where science was synonymous with progress and the questions raised by science were considered to be the only relevant questions that one might ask of reality. George Steiner commented on the dissolution of the modern worldview with its dissolution of civilized norms and of human habits: "Art, intellectual pursuits, the development of the natural sciences, many branches of scholarship flourished in close spatial and temporal proximity to massacres and the death camps." One may no longer speak of science as if it could exist in a world where no other questions about human existence mattered. After what humanity experienced in the period 1915-1945 one may no longer naively identify human progress with science: ". . . terror that brought on the death, through war, starvation, and deliberate massacre of some seventy million human beings in Europe and Russia . . ." Both quotations are from In Bluebeards’ Castle: Some Notes Toward the Redefinition of Culture (Yale University Press, 1971, p.30).

We believe that science does not ask all the questions that matter, nor does science answer all the questions that do matter. To the question, "How did it all begin?" or "How will it all end?" the answer "Probably by accident" is not a conclusion of science. Nor is the scientific method able to address questions like "Why are we here?" or "What is the meaning of life?" To answer "There is no purpose or meaning" is not a conclusion of science because the questions lie outside the scope of the scientific method.

Galileo and Pope John Paul II on the same page
 

In Western Civilization it was the "Mother Church" which gave birth to a child, the modern world of science. The child as it grew wanted more independence, which the mother was reluctant to grant. The result was that the child left home confident of making it on its own and to create a much better world, having left the old-fashioned way of its mother. Perhaps now the child grown to maturity, and not so sanguine about the world it has created or about a future world, is ready again to relate to the mother in a more mature, complementary way.
 

 That this metaphor of mother and grown child provides the best description of how we ought to think about the relation of religion and science came to be a basic assumption of our conversations. Neil Postman, Chair of the Department of Culture and Communication at New York University, said that he has two favorite quotes when thinking about science and religion. The first is by Galileo: "The intention of the Holy Spirit is to teach how one goes to heaven, not how heaven goes." The second is by Pope John Paul II: "Science can purify religion from error and superstition. Religion can purify science from idolatry and false absolutes." Postman adds: "I take these men to mean what I mean to say. Science and religion will be hopeful, useful, and life-giving only if we learn to read them with new humility ¾ as tales, as limited human renderings of the Truth" ("Science and the Story that We Need," First Things, January 1997, p. 32).

The scientific method

To answer the questions of how science and religion are similar and how science and religion are different, a review of the scientific method is useful. Sir Francis Bacon first described systematized science, or an approved method for scientific inquiry, in the sixteenth century. The modern equivalent differs little from Bacon’s philosophy.

The scientific method begins with gathering, cataloging and analyzing data. Typically, within this paper, data will refer to a collection of measurements that are possibly relevant to the physical phenomena being studied. Measurement will be a reoccurring and important ingredient as we address our questions and is central to the scientific method. However, we recognize that scientific investigation can begin with Gedanken or "thought" experiments.

From the data, a scientist puts forward unifying ideas in the form of a hypothesis. The hypothesis is a statement which adequately explains the existing observations (the existing data). The scientist is guided by a number of criteria, which aids in the formulation of the hypothesis. First, the hypothesis must be relevant to the data. Keep in mind that in many cases, data is collected, and almost always analyzed, with the hypothesis in mind. Second, the hypothesis must be falsifiable. That is, there must be a means of gathering data that could, depending on the specific measurements, disprove the hypothesis. Third, the hypothesis should be consistent with previous hypotheses which have been successfully put forward. Of course, new data may disprove previous hypotheses in which case a new hypothesis may replace an existing hypothesis. In addition, two hypotheses can adequately explain existing data but make different predictions regarding future data. In this case, both hypotheses may exist until the distinguishing data are collected and one (or both) of the hypotheses is disproved. Fourth, a hypothesis should be simple, satisfying the philosophical statement of William of Occam, known today as Occam’s Razor, that the simplest hypothesis should have preference over all others. Finally, a hypothesis must have predictive power. That is, a scientist wielding a hypothesis must be able to make predictive statements regarding data not available (e.g. yet unobserved phenomena or results of experiments not yet performed).

The attempt to explain the behavior of gravity provides an example of the scientific method in action. The universal law of gravitation as written by Isaac Newton in the Principia (1687) adequately explained the observed motion of the planets around the sun. When new planets, asteroids and comets were discovered (e.g. Uranus (1781), Neptune (1846), and Ceres (1801)) they behaved as predicted by Newton’s Law of Gravity. Each discovery of a new planet, asteroid or comet was an opportunity to falsify Newton’s hypothesis. In fact the existence of Neptune was predicted by careful analysis, using Newton’s law, of the perturbations (differences between the predicted motion of Uranus and its actual motion) seen in Uranus’ orbit.

However, not all solar system observations conformed to Newton’s predictions. The orbit of Mercury did not behave as predicted by Newton’s laws. The successful discovery of Neptune from analysis of perturbations in Uranus’ orbit lead astronomers to predict that an undiscovered planet – named Vulcan – caused Mercury’s perturbations. Unlike the discovery of Neptune, exhaustive searches did not result in the discovery of Vulcan. Instead this hypothesis was abandoned for a more radical idea. Albert Einstein in 1917 explained the observations of Mercury by replacing Newton’s law of gravity with his general law of relativity. General relativity made the same predictions as Newton’s law of gravity for all the other planets but predicted Mercury’s deviations from the old law. In addition, Einstein’s general relativity made additional predictions. The most notable, the shifting of star’s positions near the sun was observed in 1919 during an eclipse. The existence of this phenomenon predicted by Einstein’s general theory of relativity led to its widespread acceptance. Nonetheless, scientists are ever vigilant carrying out detailed experiments and observations that test the general theory of relativity.

Knowledge independent of the observer

The last criterion for a hypothesis gives the scientific method its iterative nature. Data must be collected to confirm the validity of the hypothesis’ predictive power. The evaluation of this data can lead to modifications of the original hypothesis or replacement with a new hypothesis if the current one is inadequate. These modifications or replacement hypotheses in turn require further data to confirm or reject their predictions. Even in cases when the latest data agree with the predictions of the hypothesis, the second criterion ¾ regarding falsifiablility ¾ requires that data can be collected which have the potential of falsifying the hypothesis. Only after repeated tests do we elevate a hypothesis to the rank of a theory or a law. Nonetheless, no matter what we call the hypothesis, by its very nature, it can never be proved true. There must always exist a means of disproving the hypothesis. This differentiates scientific inquiry from mathematics, logic and perhaps some aspects of computer science.

Clearly the scientific method rests upon the collection of empirical data. In this regard, practitioners of the scientific method must make some additional assumptions. First, knowledge of reality, though influenced by the observer, is ultimately independent of the observer. This can be referred to as critical realism. Second, in a similar vein, the result of an experiment or the collection of data does not depend on the observer. In this way, other investigators can repeat experiments.

Lastly, the validity of an hypothesis relies solely on its ability to predict future events. Every hypothesis regardless of internal consistency or aesthetic appeal is at the mercy of empirical data. In theory, a single observation has the ability to destroy the most elegant and time-honored law of nature. For instance, an observation of heat flowing from a cold object to a hot object in a closed system would invalidate the First Law of Thermodynamics (among many other laws) even in the absence of a replacement for the over 200-year-old law.

Einstein joins the conversation
 

In 1939 Albert Einstein delivered an address on the relation between science and religion. He remarked that it would not be difficult to come to an agreement as to what we understand by science. "Science is the century-old endeavor to bring together by means of systematic thought the perceptible phenomena of this world into as thorough-going association as possible" ("Science and Religion" Out of My Later Years, Philosophical Library, 1950, p.44). In that lecture, Einstein also remarked that when asking himself what religion is, he could not think of an answer so easily. He said, ". . . I still remain convinced that I can never under any circumstances bring together, even to a slight extent, the thoughts of all those who have given this question serious consideration" (p.44). Anyone who thinks about the relation of science and religion not only has to state his understanding of sciences, but his understanding of religion as well.

Religion and theology

Religion in the broadest understanding, in common with science and the arts, is an affirmation of hope ¾ an affirmation that there is meaning. It is a rejection of nihilism. Each religion must be specified further, however, by explaining the source of the hope it affirms. In our conversations on the relation between science and religion, we have restricted our reflections to the physical sciences and biblical religion. And within the broad spectrum of a biblical religion, there is a wide variety of understandings. We have talked about the relation of science to biblical religion as interpreted in Catholic theology. We assume the classical definition of theology: faith-seeking understanding. The personal encounter with the transcendent God comes first; theology seeks to express the meaning of the encounter and the consequences of the encounter in language. Among other things, theology tests the validity of the encounter of faith. There have been a lot of false prophets in biblical religion. What are the similarities and differences between scientific and theological inquiry from these perspectives?

Both scientists and theologians begin their inquiries out of an affirmation of faith. To scientists, in Einstein’s formulation, "belongs the faith in the possibility that the regulations valid for the world of existence are rational, that is, comprehensible to reason. I cannot conceive of a genuine scientist without that profound faith" (p.46). For scientists this belief (not a conclusion of the scientific method) may be implicit. To reflect on its origin and meaning is the task of an inquiry other than scientific. The theologian’s inquiry rises out of the experience of faith of a totally different kind: that is, the experience of the transcendent which only the personal language of "I" and "Thou" is even faintly adequate to name the experience. This is the God who creates all living beings and gives these beings responsibility for the care of a universe as their dwelling place. It is likely that science as it developed in the Jewish, Christian, and Islamic world has its origins in the biblical faith of a personal, intelligent creator who gives humans responsibility for the world in which they dwell. Humans, created in the divine image, are thus capable of understanding the laws that govern the universe.

Further, in the Catholic understanding of the biblical tradition, theological inquiry rises out of the experience of being granted the gift of dwelling not only in the physical universe with all its wonders, but simultaneously ¾ through communion with the glorified humanity of Jesus Christ ¾ dwelling in the life of God. Catholic theology speaks of the mutual indwelling of Father, Son and Spirit in one divine nature as Perichoresis ¾ a movement of personal relations comparable to dance. Theological inquiry attempts to describe the choreography of the divine dance to which all human beings are invited to participate.

I and It; I and Thou

The response of an observer to the physical world through scientific inquiry is to interpret the data and to describe what one has observed, usually through mathematics. Scientists have at times stated that the beauty and mystery of the world they observe overwhelm them. The response of a person to the experience of reality of the personal transcendent God is awe in the face of the mystery of a different order. It is response to the ultimate "Thou," followed not by an attempt to describe but instead by prayer: "O, Lord" or "Holy, Holy, Holy" or "Here I am, Lord. Thy will be done." In this experience one cannot simply be a detached observer. One is a participant through life-changing acceptance or rejection.

Scientific inquiry deals with the physical universe as a set of problems to be solved. One may choose to work on the problem or set it aside. It is quite a different experience for one who has encountered the presence of the transcendent "Thou." The mystery of personal encounter cannot be reduced to the status of a problem to be worked on with one’s intelligence. It is a call to a personal response that is determinative of ultimate meaning and happiness.

Friendship can’t be reduced to chemistry

One of the characteristics of the scientific method is its iterative nature. If one has interpreted the reality that has been observed correctly, another person who repeats the experiment will achieve the same results. Again, the situation of the encounter with God is entirely different. Theological reflection may show that there seem to be negative subjective attitudes (e.g. pride) that preclude the possibility of such an encounter, and positive attitudes (e.g. humility) that make it more likely. There are no steps to be followed that will automatically result in the experience of an encounter with God. There are not even steps that will automatically bring about the encounter of friendship between two persons. Related to this difference of predictability, one may observe that the results of scientific inquiry are cumulative ¾ knowledge added to knowledge. That is not the case in regard to the encounter with God. One would hesitate to say that a person’s faith-experience of God today is deeper than that of Abraham or Moses. Christians today would hesitate to say that their faith-experience of the risen Lord is deeper than the faith of the first Christians who willingly gave their lives as a consequence of this encounter. The experience of God is always unique for each person. Only the interpretation of the experience of faith through theological inquiry is cumulative, as for example, the ethical consequences of these experiences.
One aspect of theological inquiry is the task of verifying the authenticity of the encounter of faith. How can one discern the difference between delusion and encounter with the transcendent God? To assert without proof that the affirmation of the reality of transcendent personal God is itself a delusion is not helpful. And of course, the assertion itself is not the conclusion of scientific inquiry. The assertion likewise would cause one to pause when one considers the kinds of persons who have spoken of a relationship of trust with God as Father, not least of which is Jesus. They are persons of high levels of consciousness and goodness. "The fruit of the Spirit is love" (Gal 5:22).

Science doesn’t tell you what’s good or bad

It seems to be generally recognized that one cannot speak of conflict between scientific inquiry and theological inquiry in regard to the question of ethics. Einstein in his reflections on the relation between the two modes of inquiry stated the matter as clearly as anyone:

Science does not ask the ultimate questions

It also seems to be more generally recognized that on cannot speak of conflict between scientific inquiry and theological inquiry in regard to the "how" question of biology or astrophysics. Conflict arises when the limits of scientific inquiry or of theological inquiry are ignored. There is a religious fundamentalism ("Creationism") for example, that mistakenly interprets the Genesis accounts of creation as scientific facts. Contemporary Catholic theology, much more aware of the necessity of identifying the correct literary form of a text, rejects such interpretations. On the other hand, there is a scientific fundamentalism ("Scientism") which presumes that the scientific method exhausts all that can be known. Thus, because the scientific method does not ask a question such as "Why is there being?" or "What is the purpose of human existence?" scientific fundamentalism asserts that there could be no creator who brought about our existence for a purpose. These assertions are obviously not conclusions of scientific inquiry. Often, especially if famous scientists present them, the unwary accept them as "science" rather than groundless philosophical assertions. Carl Sagan provides a good example with his often-repeated proclamations from his TV Cosmos series that "the Cosmos is all there is, or ever was, or ever will be." It reminds one of a teenager who proclaims that "Rock is all the music there is, or ever was, or ever will be." One only hopes that one day this teenager will be able to hear a Mozart sonata.

We did not spend any time discussing current controversies about teaching Genesis as science, or about teaching science as the ultimate explanation of things in the public school system.

Information Age to a Wisdom Age?
 

Our aim was quite modest when we began our more-or-less regular 50-minute weekly conversations three months ago: (1) just the fun of talking about interesting stuff, (2) possibly putting together some summary notes of our ideas about science and religion in order to invite our students to join the conversation. We have no illusions about being on the cutting edge of thinking either about science, religion or the relationship between the two. Fortunately, at the institution where we teach, our educational philosophy affirms that there is no conflict between religion and science. As part of the core curriculum, students study the natural and social sciences, humanities, mathematics, and religious studies. Faculty members, at times, talk about the need to integrate these studies, and even attempt to do so in projects such as the Common Text Project where the same text is examined from different perspectives. There is an intuitive belief that ultimately reality is not chaos, and the aim of education out ought to reflect that.

We concluded our conversations in an open-ended way by talking about where we are and about what the future might demand. More and more people are beginning to sense that we are not in the Information Age but rather in an "information glut". As an example, Edward O. Wilson ¾ Professor of Science and Curator in Entomology, Museum of Comparative Zoology, Harvard University ¾ in his article "Back from Chaos" speaks about the growing fragmentation of knowledge and the need to cross disciplines in order to create a "common groundwork of explanation" (Atlantic Monthly, March 1998). This is certainly not happening now. As Wilson remarks,

The Atlantic Monthly editor prefaces Edward O. Wilson’s essay with this note:

Luke Timothy Johnson aptly complements Aristotle’s principle in his recent book Religious Experience in Earliest Christianity (Fortress, 1998):
 

It is certainly the case that every method of inquiry must be implicitly imperialistic and reductionist. That is, it must seek to explain everything it can in terms of its perspective, and it cannot apriori leave aside anything as privileged and unavailable for analysis. The mathematician is required to reduce everything possible to mathematical concepts. The psychologist is also correct in seeking to explain every phenomenon in psychological terms; functioning as psychologist, her analysis of religion must ‘reduce’ religion to psychology. To do otherwise would be to betray the method. . . . The difficulty arises when this implicit reduction becomes explicit and negates the legitimacy of other modes of knowing or other dimensions of being not accessible to the method in question . . . There is a subtle but important difference between saying, "Within the frame of historical (or psychological) methodology this experience does not exit," and saying simpliciter, "this experience does not (or cannot) exist" (page 40).

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