The Believer-Scientist (Part 1)

Book #2: The Language of God by Francis Collins

The last book I reviewed for this blog espoused the glories of evolutionary biology and alluded to how it might render the religious perspective on the nature and origins of life unnecessary and undesirable.

And now for something completely different.

The Language of God takes the perspective that religion and science need not be at odds because they are trying to answer different questions. Collins, who terms himself a “believer-scientist,” was the head of the Human Genome Project, mapping out the genetic code that makes us who we are at the most basic level. This perspective certainly gives Collins a unique lens on creation, as he has become familiar with the language that made humanity. As an evangelical Christian scientist, Collins termed this code ‘the language of God.’

I say that Collins is an evangelical Christian; by his own admission in the book, that is true.  This does not, however, devalue his perspective on religion and science. My more liberal readers need not fear that Collins is a Young Earth Creationist or even an advocate of Intelligent Design theory. In fact, he does as thorough a job debunking those as he does atheism and agnosticism. Collins takes a stance that he calls “theistic evolution” or “BioLogos,” in which he basically argued that God established the creation mechanisms for the world and knew what the end result would be, but allowed the creation to be an ongoing process through evolution.

I find myself drawn to this sort of conclusion, which seems to be a solid middle ground between faith and science, but as I read I also found myself perturbed by Collins’s approach to theology. He emphasizes the existence of a Moral Law as a reason for believing in God, and certainly overuses C.S. Lewis quotes to make his theological points. You’d think that Mere Christianity was a book of the Bible from reading the way Collins writes about its author.

(Side note: I also strongly disagreed with Collins’s characterization of the Gospels as eyewitness accounts of Jesus’s life. The Gospel of Mark, which was the earliest, was published around 66 C.E., at least 30 years after Jesus died. Highly unlikely that any of them were actually there for the events of Jesus’s life. This is a nit-picking disagreement, but one which matters to me.)

My issue is not with C.S. Lewis himself entirely; his is clear thinking and writing that contributed powerfully to Christian thought. And I certainly understand that he was influential on the faith process of Francis Collins. I do, however, think that Lewis (and by extension, Collins) create false dichotomies at times– such as the idea that Jesus could not possibly be *just* a good human teacher; he must either be what he claimed, the Son of God, or crazy, or a liar.

Both Lewis and Collins also strongly imply (or state outright) that the existence of morality demands the existence of a God. This is an issue that I am looking forward to reading more about, because my thinking to date suggests that while morality is an argument for the existence of God, God need not necessarily be the origin of morality. At any rate, it’s a thought-provoking question that I look forward to pursuing more.

The Language of God by Francis Collins is worth reading, but I have to admit that I didn’t like it quite as much as I expected. I agreed with his portrait of theistic evolution and the opportunities it gave for reconciling science and faith, but was largely unpersuaded– and sometimes was disappointed– by his theology. As I learned early in my academic writing career, overemphasis on one source weakens an argument, and the way Collins overused C.S. Lewis quotes was greatly disappointing. Perhaps once again we have a classic case of the brilliant scientist who makes a sub-par theologian.

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It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.

I’m sure that everyone has heard by now that the world did not, in fact, end on Saturday May 21, 2011, as was predicted by Harold Camping and his followers.

I must admit that I felt an odd blend of emotions in the lead-up to and aftermath of Saturday… a mix of theological revulsion, pity for the followers who had quit their jobs and caused strife in their families, thorough amusement at the Twitter and Facebook responses I was reading (#RapturePickupLines, anyone?), and a weird fascination with how the whole thing was happening.

By way of a news update, yesterday Camping announced that May 21 was more of a “spiritual” coming of Christ (more than another Saturday?) and that a merciful God must have decided to spare the world five months of Tribulation…but that his prediction that the whole world will end on October 21 was still correct. Here we go again.

Among the more interesting pieces I’ve found since Saturday are two responses to Camping from figures who have been fairly active in debates over the role of religion: John Shelby Spong, the ultra-liberal former Episcopal Bishop, and Richard Dawkins, the famed atheist and evolutionary biologist. In these pieces, Spong claims that Christianity should not be identified with Camping’s “nonsense,” and that science explains the end of the world. Meanwhile, Dawkins writes that science explains the end of the world and that anything taught by religious “traditions” is nonsense.

I was fascinated by the fact that, while the spirit in which the message is conveyed differs, Spong and Dawkins were basically expressing the same idea. Religions should not be troubling themselves with something like the end of the world, because science has already been explaining it. There is empirical evidence for how and (roughly) when the world is going to end, so these predictions of the Rapture are hogwash. (Incidentally, the Rapture is hogwash for more than one reason– I recommend this article from Methodist pastor Mark Schaefer for an in-depth explanation.)

I tend to agree with Dawkins and Spong that religion should not be troubling themselves with expecting the end of the world. First of all, it is both morbid and useless to worry over something that you cannot control. Second, and more importantly, the end-of-the-world mindset can encourage people to forget about responsibilities in the here and now. It broke my heart to read a story in the New York Times about a family in which the parents believed in the May 21 prophecy and the kids didn’t, in which one of the kids no longer felt motivated to pursue future plans– not because he believed the world was going to end, but because he no longer felt support from his parents for his hopes and aspirations. This is just wrong.

Expecting the end of the world can also lead to nihilistic politics that absolve us of our responsibilities to each other and to the earth. What would motivate us to care, if the world is just going to end soon anyway? Ironically enough, these sorts of policies make it more likely that humanity will destroy itself sooner versus later. As Spong wrote in his article, “Human life will come to an end a lot sooner if politicians lead us into either nuclear holocaust or environmental disaster.”

It is precisely this reality that religion should be fighting against. Religion should be a voice against dangerous (and anti-scientific) mindsets that would hasten the end of the world simply by believing it is imminent. Maybe the Biblical statement that “none shall know the day or hour” was meant to stop us from worrying about the problems of what is to come in the distant future, and keep us focused on solving problems that affect real people in the present and immediate future.

In the beginning…

God created the heavens and the earth. So says the beginning of the book of Genesis. As most people with half an ear open will be aware, though, not everyone believes this to be true. In fact, the large majority of the credible scientific community (and a fair chunk of the theological community) would disagree with a literal reading of the Genesis 1 story. When combined with the roughly 40% of Americans who deny the theory of evolution, we have the makings of a deeply contentious relationship between science and religion.

It is this contention that sparked the idea for this project. In conversations with some of my atheistic friends, I have been told that religion and science– most specifically, evolution and creationism– are irreconcilable. The ideas are too disparate, the methods are too opposite, I am told. They are different in every possible way. They may be right, but I am not willing to concede the point without examining the ideas further.

I am a progressive Christian, a United Methodist, and a longtime student of the humanities. Unlike many of the people whose books I will be reading, I do not have any formal training in science or theology; however, I have a deep appreciation for both, and I want to know more. I want to develop my own ideas by reading what others have said. To do this, I will be reading and responding to books by people from all sides– evolutionary biologists and theologians, atheists and evangelicals and everywhere in between.

I believe common ground can be found. I believe that an intrinsic sense of wonder is shared by both scientists and people of faith, and that this commonality means that science and religion need not be permanently at odds. I could be wrong. This is my quest to find out.