The Hubris of (Some) Scientists

If you happened to read this article in Tuesday’s NY Times, you would have found some pretty shocking statements.

The idea that human minds are the product of evolution is “unassailable fact,” the journal Nature said this month in an editorial on new findings on the physical basis of moral thought. A headline on the editorial drove the point home: “With all deference to the sensibilities of religious people, the idea that man was created in the image of God can surely be put aside.”

With all deference, the NY Times quotes Nature as stating, Jews and Christians are ignorant bumpkins.  Why should that trouble my sensibilities?

The article goes on:

Or as V. S. Ramachandran, a brain scientist at the University of California, San Diego, put it in an interview, there may be soul in the sense of “the universal spirit of the cosmos,” but the soul as it is usually spoken of, “an immaterial spirit that occupies individual brains and that only evolved in humans — all that is complete nonsense.” Belief in that kind of soul “is basically superstition,” he said.

Let’s be exactly clear with what V. S. Ramachandran, who is Indian, is saying here. I don’t know what Dr. Ramachandran’s personal religious beliefs are, but he here argues that the Hindu-Buddhist religious concept of “the universal spirit of the cosmos” is scientifically acceptable.  Meanwhile, the Jewish-Christian concept of personal souls is “superstition.”  (Though I’m not aware of any theologians who would consider the soul “occupying” the brain or having evolved.)

If Dr. Ramachandran wishes to believe that, then that’s between him and God (or the universal spirit of the cosmos, as the case may be).  But how, exactly, is this science?  Further, how would Dr. Ramachandran counsel a Christian working as graduate assistant under him?  “Superstition” is a strong word, especially from a professional scientist.

We have heard from scientists, such as Stephen Jay Gould, that science and religion can peacefully coexist.  Science, we have been told, discusses the “what” and “how” of the world, while religion examines the “why.” Here is at least one group of scientists who expose that as a false paradigm.  For them, science – understood materialistically, with no room for anything that can’t be measured – determines the whole of truth.

Camping is Not Optional

What a great name for a website and organization.

 I have to say, I like their purpose, too. 

We also believe that human beings were designed to be interdependent with the natural world as well, which is why we’ve chosen an outdoor setting for these events.  While the average modern life doesn’t readily incorporate a daily relationship with the air, trees, soil, land forms and creatures that surround us, spending a period of time in more direct relationship can serve to remind us of the ways in which we might make conscious choices every day to be good stewards of the earth.  In addition, the quiet of a farm or forest or beach provides an important retreat from the noise, an opportunity to breathe deeply, listen closely and love extravagantly.

Elizabeth, the kids, and I are hoping to get in some good camping pretty soon.  If our schedule’s don’t lighten up, though, we might have to make do with our (hardly at all) rustic backyard.   We do have some poison ivy back there, so at least that part will be authentic.

Books I Like: Understanding Comics

I have been a fan of comic strips and comic books since I was a kid, and I’ve been known to pick up a graphic novel here and there. Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud is a nonfiction graphic “novel” about how and why comics “work.” Why does it look like Superman is flying? How do we know what Charlie Brown is thinking? Why do we even care?

McCloud clearly and helpfully explains the fundamental visual and narrative techniques of comics, often with very clever “meta” illustrations. I would attempt to describe some of them, but that would be as interesting as, well, explaining a comic strip. I’m not LaGuardia, here. McCloud also examines the nature of comics, the combination of words and pictures in a narrative art form.

If you are like me, a thoughtful, mature, and good-looking adult who still sneaks over the graphic novel aisle at Borders, read this book. It will arm you with plenty of explanations when your significant other asks why you spent the grocery money on six different X-Men titles and a reprint of The Dark Knight Returns.

Scott McCloud’s official website

The Complete Gospel, Abridged

Here, Scot McKnight describes some positive and negative aspects of the “Romans Road” method of presenting the gospel, including this sage comment:

First, it is only one “language game” for the gospel. The Romans Road is not “the” gospel but “a way” of expressing the gospel. It tells the truth about the gospel, but not the whole truth.

I agree that it’s not the whole story, but I have systematic theology texts on my shelf that are longer than the Bible itself, yet still aren’t the whole story. Have some Christians presented the Romans Road as the whole of the gospel? Definitely. I think that if you asked them, they would agree that there’s much more to the gospel than a handful of verses from Romans, but when you repeat an abbreviation over and over again, it becomes louder than the complete message.

To put this crassly, think about an entrepreneur’s “elevator pitch.” It’s not designed to give the whole, agonizing back story if the company, its product, production methods, target market, etc., etc. Instead, the 15 or 30 second elevator pitch is supposed to give a brief-yet-true glimpse of the business, to draw the interest of the investor or customer. Using this model, the Romans Road would be perfectly appropriate in a conversation with a stranger or in introducing a friend to the basics of the gospel for the first time, but completely inappropriate for teaching someone what it means to follow Christ daily (the “long obedience in the same direction” that Eugene Peterson writes about).

Keep in mind, of course, that as soon as you substitute any particular method of evangelism for the true gospel, you’ve settled for something sub-Christian. One of the dangers of the elevator pitch is that you’ll begin to believe it. When you describe something via shorthand, that shorthand starts to change the way you think about the original something. For a simple example, think about our nicknames for our loved ones. Another example is corporate branding. Wal-Mart has sold itself so well as the home of “lowest prices guaranteed,” that they now have trouble selling more upscale products.

This is why we have to careful about the shorthand we use to describe the gospel. Any shorthand presentation must be carefully sculpted to be completely true, even in its brevity. We must also continually return to Scripture (our primary source of the gospel). We must be reminded that God’s good news is much larger and much more grander than we can express in a few words, a sermon, or even a lifetime of books.

Does it matter what professors believe?

A friend of mine recently told me that, when she was in college, she never wanted to know her professors politics or religion. She didn’t want to have “an agenda pushed down her throat” (her words) while she was learning their subject. She just wanted to focus on the subject at hand.

Now, I work for a ministry whose mission is to develop Christian professors who will be a redeeming influence in the university. We expect their faith in Christ to influence their teaching, research, and everything else they do as professors. So my friend’s statement troubled me.  Would it be better for professors to “focus on the subject at hand” and check their politics and religion at the door?  Is it even possible?

I can appreciate my friend’s position. It always annoyed me in college when profs aggressively pushed a point-of-view that I disagreed with. But, in a college classroom, we’re all adults, and my feelings shouldn’t determine the content of the curriculum.

I am currently wrapping up a series on world religions at Lakeside, so I have various conflicting theologies bumping around in my head right now. On my way home, I began thinking about how professor’ religious beliefs might shape their teaching and research.

For example, Christianity teaches that, at the core of everything, there is a person. More specifically, there are three Persons, Three-in-One, co-existing in co-eternal community. According to Christian theology, personhood is at the center of the cosmos.  Every concept in Christianity is related to the personhood of God (e.g. sin is a personal offense against God; salvation is personal reconciliation with God).

Contrast this with Buddhism and Hinduism. Certain forms of these two religions teach that personhood is an illusion, that all distinct “persons” are really just expressions of the world-soul, which is a nonpersonal, spiritual force. Our objective in life is to perceive the world as it truly is (i.e. an illusion), to realize that there is no “self,” and to gain enlightenment that all is One.

To recap, in Christianity, personhood is fundamentally important. In certain Eastern religions, personhood is an illusion.

Wouldn’t those two perspectives lead to different conclusions in any academic subject that deals with human beings? Wouldn’t your interpretations of Shakespeare and Faulkner differ depending on whether you believed them to be two eternally distinct persons, or you believed them to be two representations of the same nonpersonal force?  Without even considering whether one of these world views is correct, wouldn’t they – shouldn’t they – affect your perspective on ethics, psychology, sociology, or healthcare?

And, if you can’t apply your deepest-held beliefs to an academic subject, if you can’t communicate those beliefs and the ensuring applications in a clear, respectful, and convincing manner, then what’s the point of being a professor?