BioLogos and Christian unity. Part I: The cost of artificial unity

Christian unity is not something to take lightly. Famous biblical proof texts urge us to pursue it. Basic theological commitments establish it as a primary goal of believers. Basic human nature would seem to drive us to seek solidarity with those who share fundamental beliefs. So when a Christian – especially a Christian in the midst of a dispute or disagreement with another Christian – makes an appeal for unity, only a fool would rise to disagree. Considered in isolation, talk of unity is powerfully persuasive to Christian believers. "Considered in isolation." That's where I will focus as I try to explain (again) why talk of unity can be inappropriate and even dangerous when it is offered outside of context. In short, I take the following to be evident: unity is not an end in itself, and is not achieved by wishful thinking or gushy happy talk. I'll look at those two points in two posts on BioLogos and Christian unity.

So, I'm occasionally frustrated by the stance of my friends at BioLogos when it comes to Christian unity. Consider a recent and widely-discussed piece by Darrel Falk, on the question of why BioLogos is co-sponsoring a conference (called The Vibrant Dance) with two organizations known to regularly misrepresent science: Reasons To Believe (RTB) and the Discovery Institute (DI). Falk notes that this choice has been criticized by believers and skeptics alike. In my opinion, his defense of that choice misses the most important criticisms. His defense amounts to a claim that Christian unity matters more than just about anything else. Specifically, he asserts that "what we have in common far outweighs the differences we may experience." And "we" is BioLogos, RTB, The DI, and an interesting group of other organizations, one of which is my employer (Calvin College). I will have words for Calvin in the near future. Here are some comments on his reasoning and his claims in that post.

Continue reading...

Stealing it back

So is evolution a weapon of unbelief, empowering the dark forces of atheism in their assault on Christendom by air, land and sea? It's sure easy to hear the dogs of war howling in the background of the weird debate over whether the NCSE is biased toward belief.

I don't have time to post my thoughts on that debate right now. Instead, I offer a talk I gave in a Calvin College chapel service in 2005, which I've been intending to share here since the beginning. The topic was the Psalms. The title was "Stealing It Back." I've edited it slightly. I think it says a lot of what I think when I see smart atheists (who I like and respect) using the chilling language of armed conflict when discussing the simple question of whether faith and science are "compatible."

Calvin College chapel
19 September 2005
"Stealing It Back"

First, a quick disclaimer about my use of the term "struggles." I do want to tell you about my journey as a Christian academic scientist and the power of God's word to bring strength into our lives. But I don't want you to think that I've had it rough or that I would ever compare the bumps in this journey to the kinds of experiences that we'd call suffering. It helps me in this regard to recall my wife's frequent response when I whine about my "struggles" (mostly unfinished grading): waa waa waa.

So seriously, some thoughts on how God's word has been a rock to me, a light unto my path. I want to highlight three questions or issues in the journey, and show how Psalm 104, a personal favorite, has been a rock for me.

Early in my career, when I was in graduate school, I'd often find myself in a conversation something like this:

"So Steve, what is it that you're studying again?" "Oh, I'm interested in the subcellular mechanisms underlying enhanced neurite outgrowth induced by steroid hormones in cultured neurons from the moth nervous system."

Well, not really...I would patiently explain that I was interested in how nerve cells grow and that I was studying the question in a model system where it was easy to do that. The next question would go something like this: "Why on earth would you want to do that?"

One person did actually ask the question just like that; typically it would be more polite, and would assume that my work had one or both of the following motivations: 1) to cure diseases (in humans, not moths); or 2) to witness to unbelievers. In fact, my work then and now does touch on both those things and they're both of obvious importance. But imagine what it sounded like to me when a church leader said to someone else, about me: "Isn't it great that Steve's there at Harvard Medical School doing research? Think of all the opportunities he has to witness to those people." It didn't seem to enter anyone's mind that studying God's creation could have a more intrinsic value than that.

It was certain of the Psalms that grounded me here, and helped me to see that my calling was not merely a vehicle to get me into the presence of the godless early and often. I'm sorry that I missed Scott Hoezee's message on Psalm 19, because I quoted that Psalm in my dissertation, writing, "the heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Same goes for neuronal morphology."

Psalm 104 is an extended reflection on creation. Here's how it describes some of God's interactions with natural creation:

The LORD wraps himself in light as with a garment; he stretches out the heavens like a tent and lays the beams of his upper chambers on their waters. He makes the clouds his chariot and rides on the wings of the wind. He makes winds his messengers, flames of fire his servants.

– Psalm 104:2-4, TNIV

and later in verse 31 the Psalmist says:

May the glory of the LORD endure forever; may the LORD rejoice in his works.

Why look intently at the creation and try to understand it? Because it's cool; God thinks it's cool. He gets delight from it, rides around on it. He rejoices in it. To enter the examination of God's creation is to share God's delight in what he has made. It's his creation. He made it. He thinks it's great.

A second struggle I had was one that arises as a consequence of the fact that much biological science can in fact be used to help cure disease or grow food or help meet various human needs. Strangely, at least in the Christian circles we used to frequent, this created a tension between God's miraculous provision and his non-miraculous provision. There was something better about miraculous healing, for example, than healing brought about by, say, antibiotics. In fact, we did occasionally hear claims that one should forgo certain medical interventions and instead seek God's healing. The problem with this sort of thinking is that it ignores God's claims here in Psalm 104 to be behind all provision of pretty much every kind.

He makes springs pour water into the ravines; it flows between the mountains. They give water to all the beasts of the field; the wild donkeys quench their thirst. The birds of the sky nest by the waters; they sing among the branches. He waters the mountains from his upper chambers; the land is satisfied by the fruit of his work. He makes grass grow for the cattle, and plants for people to cultivate— bringing forth food from the earth: wine that gladdens human hearts, oil to make their faces shine, and bread that sustains their hearts. The trees of the LORD are well watered, the cedars of Lebanon that he planted.

– Psalm 104:10-16, TNIV

I'd love to try manna sometime, because I'm curious, but if you want to eat bread from God's hand, you can buy it at D&W. (If you try to buy some wine to gladden your heart, though, be prepared to show ID).

In Psalm 104, God claims every form of provision as his own. If our scientific efforts to understand spinal cord injury someday get people out of wheelchairs, God will claim that too. Psalm 104 helped me abandon the notion that non-miraculous provision is not God's provision.

The last struggle I've had as a Christian biologist has been the one you probably assumed we'd spend our whole time on. Yes, the topic is evolution. Early in my development as a Christian scientist I worried that evolution could threaten the idea of God as the creator of life. I think I know why I had this worry, and I'll talk about it in a second, but the worry disappeared over time as I learned more and more about God's limitless claims on this universe. Here in Psalm 104 God is identified as the source of just about every biological process I can think of. We've already noted his hand in the provision of food of all kinds for all kinds of creatures. (We left out lions, who "roar for their prey and seek their food from God.") Verses 24-30 are central to my hopeful commitment to biology:

How many are your works, LORD! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. There is the sea, vast and spacious, teeming with creatures beyond number— living things both large and small. There the ships go to and fro, and the leviathan, which you formed to frolic there. All creatures look to you to give them their food at the proper time. When you give it to them, they gather it up; when you open your hand, they are satisfied with good things. When you hide your face, they are terrified; when you take away their breath, they die and return to the dust. When you send your Spirit, they are created, and you renew the face of the ground.

That word there in verse 30, "created," I learned recently, is bara, the same word used in Genesis 1-2. It was Psalm 104 that finally helped me to rest in the knowledge that whatever the process of biology that we're considering, death, reproduction, feeding, whatever...it's all God's hand. Period. Studying animal development is studying creation, Bara Creation.

Now why was this so significant for me? Well surely because it helped remove doubts I may have been harboring about God's wisdom and omnipotence as a creator. But also because it exposed for me one of the biggest lies that often crops up in discussions of biology among Christians.

You see, there are two big problems that Christians who oppose evolution seem to have with it. 1) Some Christians say it's a lousy theory and that evolution didn't happen. If you think about it, that's just an empirical question like those faced in any science all the time. 2) Some Christians say evolution can't have happened because that would mean God didn't create living things. There are whole movements in Christianity right now that are dominated by the claim that if naturalistic explanations for life are true, then God is out of the picture. I hope you'll agree that a biologist making that assumption is in dangerous territory while considering the evidence for evolution.

Psalm 104 destroys that assumption. It's simply not true that those things about life that have been explained naturally have thereby been removed from God's oversight or responsibility. Soaking in Psalm 104 helped me to finally stop worrying about what I might find while examining the living world, because whatever I find there already belongs to him.

But one last thing, and an explanation for the title of this talk. This notion that a naturally explainable phenomenon is not in God's purview ought to be laughable on its face. So where did it come from, and why is it still so strong? Why was I worried that evolution could eliminate God as Creator?

Don't have time to explore that now, but suffice it to say that some enemies of our faith (and quite a few confused Christians) are deliberately repeating and defending this nonsense, painting a picture of a God who gets smaller every time another scientific experiment is completed. It seems to me that there's been a robbery. Something rightfully God's, and ours, has been stolen.

So what should we do? Well, this is where my journey as a Christian biologist is now. It's not so much that I want people to accept evolutionary theory. I want us, as Christians, to see God as the ruler and sustainer of creation, however it might be ruled and sustained.

You're probably all too young to know much of anything about Charles Manson. He was a homicidal maniac back in the 1970's, and a famous book about him and his followers got its title from a Beatles song that Manson incorporated somehow into his wickedness. The song is called "Helter Skelter." On U2's Rattle and Hum album, you'll find a recording of "Helter Skelter" from 1987 (right around the year some of you were born). Bono introduces the song like this: "This is a song Charles Manson stole from the Beatles. We're stealing it back." This is how, reflecting on Psalm 104, I see part of my mission as a Christian biologist. Opponents of our faith stole the reverent study of the biological world from the church. We're stealing it back.

...so our response to the living world can be like that of the Psalmist after considering God's creation:

I will sing to the LORD all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live.

– Psalm 104:33, TNIV

Weekly sampler 12

Shall we play a game? Recall Hugh Ross' fictional tale about the "team of physicists" that remade molecular genetics. Ross claimed, falsely, that:

They noticed that the quantity of "junk" in a species' genome was proportional to that species' degree of advancement.

The biological truth is the opposite: amount of DNA, "junk" or otherwise, is so uncorrelated with other aspects of biology that the situation was termed a paradox when it was first uncovered. Well...let's see the paradox in living color. In the next few Weekly samplers, I'll present you with some organisms (all animals) and we'll see how well you can guess their relative amounts of DNA (per genome) based on their "degree of advancement." Good luck! (Hint: use a quarter; it's easier to catch, and easier to find on the floor if you drop it.)

Which organism has the larger genome?
	This one?	Or this one?
1
2
3

Answers are here. Explanation can be found on the superb blog of one of the world's leading experts on genome size.

1. This story is 6 years old, but I never heard it till this week. A 52-year-old woman gets DNA testing to determine whether she can serve as an organ donor for her son. The tests reveal that she is apparently not the mother of two of her children. But...she is the mother of all of her children. How can this be?

She's a tetragametic chimera, meaning simply that her body is composed of cells descended from two genetically distinct embryos which evidently fused very early in development. Her ovaries are descended from one of those embryos, but her blood descends from the other. The result: she conceived children with gametes derived from one embryo, but her blood (which was used for the genetic tests) comes from the genetically-distinct other. Each of her cells has just one "parent", but as a whole she is derived from two distinct embryos, each of which arose from two distinct sperm/egg pairs; thus she, as a whole, is derived from four gametes instead of the typical two. Wild! And lots of fun for certain friends of mine who (like me) enjoy reflecting on human personhood and personal identity.

2. The newest issue of The Economist has an interesting piece on a large new European scientific collaboration.

“Explaining Religion”, as the project is known, is the largest-ever scientific study of the subject. It began last September, will run for three years, and involves scholars from 14 universities and a range of disciplines from psychology to economics. And it is merely the latest manifestation of a growing tendency for science to poke its nose into the God business.

Bring it on!

3. This View of Life is a nice-looking site that aims to be "a beginner's guide to a science-based understanding of evolution." I'd love to hear some feedback from anyone who's checked it out. (Via the ASA listserv.)

4. Read Ryan Gregory on the much-abused concept of Just-So Stories.

5. Earlier this week, I heard an interesting story on MarketPlace about "video games that are good for you." I think I'll ditch Text Twist and try this instead. The games "reduce stress and boost self-confidence." Do they have any that add time to the day?

6. At the Howard Hughes Medical Institute (HHMI), a site called BioInteractive is crawling with "free resources for science teachers & students." Lectures, animations, "virtual labs." It's a mixed bag, but very much worth a stroll. (Via Panda's Thumb.)

In high praise of Howard Van Till

Howard Van Till is one of my heroes. It's been a month and a half since his address to the Grand Dialogue, and I still think about it, even though the ideas were all familiar to me. I think this is due partly to the fact that the excellent talk displayed Howard's disarming warmth and generosity, and partly to the fact that he was already one of my heroes. Here I'll discuss some of the main points of the talk, and in the process I hope you'll discover why I hold Howard Van Till in such high esteem.

Howard is professor emeritus of physics and astronomy at Calvin College, where I teach and work. The publication of his 1986 book The Fourth Day – and the ensuing controversy at the college and especially in the Christian Reformed Church (CRC) – had an enormous impact on both. Some commentators suggest that the disputes over evolution that were spawned by the book are largely responsible for the existence of an entire denomination, the United Reformed Church, which represents one of the major secessions from the CRC in the last two decades of the 20th century. The book actually did not tackle biological evolution so much as it described cosmic evolution, the ancient universe, and the tragedy of "scientific creationism." It contains immense wisdom on the nature of science, and many of my colleagues still give it pride of place on their bookshelves.

The controversy exacted a toll, though, and I know just enough of the story to know that it is a sordid and disgraceful tale. I suspect that Howard is hundreds of times more gracious than I would be. And some of his recent public remarks give me the impression that the scandalous (if not blasphemous) behavior of our community led Howard to move away from traditional Reformed Christianity. Howard's theological pilgrimage is not my subject here, but this aspect of Howard's journey is something of a backdrop for my own life as a Reformed Christian scientist, if only because I couldn't do what I do at Calvin if it weren't for Howard and his contemporaries.

Howard's talk was entitled "IS THE COSMOS ALL THERE IS? The quest for answers to big cosmological questions." There are plans to post video at the Grand Dialogue site, but in the meantime you can download the extensive outline that Howard provided from my personal website.

Here are Howard's main questions, with comments that don't already appear on the outline, and then some comments on the question & answer period that followed the lecture.

1. Why is there something rather than nothing?

Howard says this is a "hard question," and I guess we have to agree with him there. This was one of my favorite sections of the lecture, so here it is approximately verbatim, in quasi-dramatic form.

Religion. Because God made something.
Howard. Sorry, that's the answer to a different question. You still have to explain why there's a god vs. no god.
Religion. But it's impossible for God not to exist. He necessarily exists.
Howard. Sorry, that's just too easy. Not all assertions are true, even if offered by brilliant philosophers or theologians.
(Steve. Touché.)
P.W. Atkins & Co. It just happened. From nothing.
Howard. Sorry, that doesn't work either.

I'll just interject here that one reason I look up to Howard Van Till is that he seems to share my discomfort with being identified with a "side."

Howard. What about: "we don't actually know." What we have here is a profound mystery that should inspire profound awe and humility.

At that point, Howard referred to a folk singer named Iris DeMent, and quoted this lyric:

Everybody's wonderin' what and where they they all came from
everybody's worryin' 'bout where they're gonna go
when the whole thing's done
but no one knows for certain
and so it's all the same to me
I think I'll just let the mystery be

The song is "Let the Mystery Be" from the Infamous Angel album.

2. What is the universe like?

Howard identified this as an "easier" question, but he tackled one not-so-easy question when addressing the nature of the universe.

As you can read on the outline, Howard described the universe as "big and old, nearly empty and mostly cold," but emphasized the fact that the universe has "a formational history that is readable by natural sciences," including a formational history of life on earth. Then he outlined what he calls the "Right Stuff Universe Principle" (RSUP), which posits that the universe ("amazingly") has the Right Stuff (resources, potentialities, and capabilities) to actualize everything we see, naturally. (Call it "fine tuning" if you want; same thing as near as I can tell.)

As you might guess, 'naturally' means 'without the need for supernatural filling-in', and 'supernatural action' means specifically coercive divine action; I learned that this latter phrase is the language of process theology. Howard's summary: "The principle is a statement about the adequacy of natural causes to accomplish all the formational histories in question."

If you've read Howard on "robust formational economy" then much of the preceding should sound pretty familiar. But then Howard addressed this question, which I find tiresomely familiar: how did science come to adopt the assumption of the "adequacy of natural causes to accomplish all the formational histories in question"? Quoting Howard:

Some religious critics object to science unfairly excluding supernatural causation. Sorry…that’s a serious and mischievous misrepresentation of the history of science’s consideration of assumptions. [...] The “hybrid” approaches were discontinued because they were inadequate to explain formational histories. The “right stuff” principle was adopted because it worked.

The ellipses indicate parts I didn't write down, but I think it's clear what Howard is getting at. And I think he's completely right. Can you see why this man is one of my role models? The RSUP, in Howard's eyes, is more than just "fine tuning," more than just "getting a bunch of numbers right." It is a truly astounding fact of the natural world. And it raises an obvious and difficult question.

3. How can something as remarkable as the RSUP be true?

Howard proposed several possible answers, found on the outline, including three religious answers worth expanding here (roughly quoting Howard in all cases):

• In the spirit of St. Augustine, assert that the cosmos is a creation, a manifestation of the Creator's creativity and generosity. God was both able and willing to give it that rich a being. Howard: this is the solution I used to recommend, and still recommend to those embracing “traditional Christian theism.”
• In the spirit of process theology, postulate that the very natures of God, the world and the God/world relationship are such that supernatural intervention is excluded and so the RSUP has to be true.
• In the spirit of the ID movement, cancel the question. Deny that the universe has the Right Stuff.

I'm waiting for someone to explain process theology to me. I did buy a brand new book at the conference, which contains lots of process theology (or so I'm told). I'm interested, but my commitment to "traditional Christian theism" is non-negotiable, so I guess I'll just browse.

Howard dismissed the "Cosmic Casino Hypothesis" (the RSUP is the result of dumb luck) as "not very helpful" and he seemed cool to the multiverse. I suspect he favors this last option, quoting as best I can:

And then there's agnosticism, or humility. We'll just say that we don’t really know. Let the mystery be.

4. Does the universe need a creator, and if so what does a creator do?

In this part of the talk, the main idea I found notable was the question of whether there has always been a universe. If I got Howard right here, he said:

I was taught that the answer is clearly “no.” But I’m inclined to disagree now.

I'm not sure what he meant on that one.

5. How would anyone know what a creator is like?

Howard introduced this final section by noting that this question was likely to be the most "disturbing and thought-provoking" of the lecture, stating with disarming good humor but unapologetic bluntness that "I want you to go home with new questions." His focus was on scientific explanations for religious belief, and the outline provides significant detail.

And it was interesting, and it was thought-provoking, but it was hardly disturbing to me, probably because I don't understand why explaining something – whether it's religious belief or photosynthesis or genetic recombination or zits – reduces its religious significance, its majesty, or even its mystery. I've heard about Pascal Boyer's work, and Justin Barrett's, and it's cool stuff, and I just don't get all freaked out about it. Explanation is no alternative to belief.

Howard emphasized the idea (after Justin Barrett) that belief in the supernatural could have emerged through the action of our so-called hyperactive agency detection device (HADD), which is basically the high-sensitivity aspect of our consciousness that jumps at the sound of a twig snapping in the forest. After exploring these interesting ideas, Howard concluded that "having religious beliefs is as natural as natural can be." Then he closed with comments that I jotted down as follows:

But then…how can this brain be trusted to give us true answers [to the big questions above]? One suggestion that is worth testing: perhaps we should deal with these intuitive beliefs the same way we would deal with a ‘snap’ sound in the jungle. We should begin with our intuition, but then turn the question over to our slower, more rational evaluation and see if it holds up. (I place a very high value on rational, as many are quick to point out...) Run the belief through some basic tests, and dare to honor the score. Don’t believe something because it's “emotionally reassuring” or because “tribal orthodoxy” holds it to be true.

"Dare to honor the score." That's a dramatic challenge, and I think Christians should be unafraid to accept it. We have nothing to fear from a sober examination of God's world.

Aftermath and concluding comments

After the lecture, there were responses from two local physicists, including my friend and colleague Deb Haarsma, then there were questions from the audience.

Watching Howard handle questions was, for me, impressive and humbling, and it was this experience that caused me to conclude that Howard was not just a hero but a true role model. Somehow, he's able to combine generous openness with blunt (even fierce) criticism. Some examples:

• In his response to a rambling comment from an audience member, Howard concluded: "I don't know as much as I used to." The audience answered with its biggest applause of the day.
• His response in full to a sickeningly self-indulgent sermon riddled with Christianese platitudes and proof texts: "You've given your testimony and we should just leave it at that."
• One perceptive questioner wondered whether the evolutionary explanation of belief (HADD) would cast the same doubt on scientific understanding as it would on religious belief. Howard identified this as "a classic question and a good one," and agreed that both science and religion "deserve equal criticism." But then this: "When I look at how traditional beliefs are handled in religion vs. science, I think science is doing a superior job with respect to examining its 'traditional beliefs'."

That last comment is the kind of fearless confession that makes me admire Howard so much. It's just not fashionable, especially among Christians, to say that science is better at self-criticism and error correction than is Christianity. But it's true, and maybe someday I'll learn, from Howard, how to be brutally frank without being brutal.

One last thing. I don't know whether Howard Van Till self-identifies as a Christian. And I don't intend to walk away from my faith (or, more specifically, from what I believe to be revelation) under the influence of scientific explanation. But when the subject is science and explanation, I agree with Howard a lot more often that I do with most of the Christians I know, and he has a passion for truthtelling that would completely transform the so-called faith-science dialogue, if even a few more people followed his lead.

Crossing the divide

I recently recommended a very nice new blog by Mike Beidler called The Creation of an Evolutionist. It's subtitled "My journey from young earth creationism to evolutionary creationism," and it's downright fun to read. Mike is engaging and bright. He writes with enthusiasm and joy, so it's hard to imagine that his journey might have been difficult in places. But I'm sure it was.

Others have shared here and elsewhere about the trauma that many experience when considering the abandonment of creationism, an experience I mostly avoided because I never fully embraced creationism, and certainly never adopted a young-earth position. But it's easy for me to understand the emotional environment in which such struggles occur, and that's why I'm glad commenters like David O. have insisted on pointing out that the debunking of crude folk science (like the Reasons To Believe train wreck) is not helpful in the absence of a sound theological framework. Why? Because the obstacles that keep most Christians from embracing evolution and an ancient creation are not merely (or even mostly) academic in nature. They're deeper, much deeper than that: they're emotional, tied to the most basic ways by which Christians define themselves.

In the newest issue of Science, a remarkable News Focus piece tackles this very subject. You need a subscription to access the article online. I'll quote it extensively here, but if you are at all interested in this topic, I urge you to get a copy and read it. I find the article remarkable not just for its coverage of the issue, but for the fact that it is published in Science, one of the most prominent science journals in the world.

The article is "Crossing the divide," written by Jennifer Couzin, and it displays this tagline: "Like others who have rejected creationism and embraced evolution, paleontologist Stephen Godfrey is still recovering from the traumatic journey." Godfrey works at the Calvert Marine Museum in Chesapeake Bay; he was raised in a "fundamentalist" Christian environment but came to a "staunch acceptance of evolution."

Godfrey's "anguished path" began with his study of fossils. 'Anguished' sounds right:

With this shift came rejection from his religious community, estrangement from his parents, and, perhaps most difficult of all, a crisis of faith that endures.

After noting the immense emotional appeal of creationism and the cruel God-or-science choice it typically presents, Couzin observes:

People like Godfrey tend not to advertise their painful transition from creationist to evolutionist, certainly not to scientific peers. When doubts about creationism begin to nag, they have no one to turn to: not Christians in their community, who espouse a literal reading of the Bible and equate rejecting creationism with rejecting God, and not scientists, who often dismiss creationists as ignorant or lunatic.

Gosh, that paragraph about sums up one of my main goals as a Christian biologist: to offer fellow Christians at least one other choice. I hope it saddens you as much it does me, and it oughtn't matter whether you believe or not.

There are some rough spots and simplifications in the piece: Couzin refers to the "fateful apple" in Eden, for example, and seems to suggest that only "biblical literalists" hold that "belief is generally an all-or-nothing proposition." (Though I think I know what she means.) The descriptions of the harrowing journey from YECism to evolutionary creation, however, are raw and jarring. Woven into Godfrey's story are quotes from Denis Lamoureux, Brian Alters, and Christopher Smith, Godfrey's brother-in-law who is a Baptist pastor here in Michigan. But it is Godfrey's "anguished path" that is laid out in disheartening detail. Examination of fossil strata (and footprints therein) finally leads to the "explosion" of his YEC ideas.

Godfrey ran through bitterness, anger, and disappointment about having been deceived for so many years. He sought out creationists and confronted them. Late in graduate school, he and his devout Christian wife, mother-in-law, and mother attended a weekend symposium at a Bible school in New York state, where Godfrey says he angrily stood up at the end of a talk and argued passionately with the speaker.

Well...gulp. That reaction is understandable, even laudable, but I think Dr. Godfrey would agree that it's not the way that things should go for long. Indeed, he identifies at least some times when one ought to let sleeping dogs lie.

But sometimes, former creationists believe, changing minds is not worth the heartache it brings. Godfrey no longer considers evolution worth mentioning to his parents, now 78 and 79 years old, and he asked that they not be contacted for this article. “You can live your life just fine and not know squat about evolution,” he says.

The hardest parts of the story for me to read were those that described his parents' distress, convinced as they are that "their afterlife depends on embracing creationism." But before you conclude that he (or I) would embrace laissez faire, consider his passion here:

Just as he longs for biblical literalists to be more receptive to evolution, Godfrey also wishes that biologists would join the discussion. He was incensed 5 years ago when, participating in an evolution-creationism debate at Bishop’s University, where he once argued against the fossil record, no one from the biology department attended.

Ouch! Not in my house.

According to Couzin, "Godfrey is conflicted about how, and how forcefully, to press his case." He co-wrote a book with his brother-in-law; his father prayed that it would fail to be published at all, and Godfrey seems unconvinced that the book had any impact.

I want to hear voices like Godfrey's, and David Opderbeck's, and others who have traveled this "anguished path." I've explained elsewhere why I don't think laissez faire is always – or even usually – the right approach. But my path was far less anguished, and I never knew the complete isolation that so many of these wise people experienced. (Thank God.) So I'm listening.

Christendom cannot continue to construct and support folk science and desperate dishonesty. It must not continue to employ falsehood in the "defense" of the gospel. But the dismantling of these corrupt and toxic structures has to be done for the sake of the gospel, and not for any other reason.

That's my pledge. Hold me to it.

De-bunking, not debunking

I'll soon post the first in a series of articles that will explain why I believe that Christians are unwise to turn to Reasons To Believe (RTB) or to other proponents of "intelligent design" for competent Christian commentary on evolutionary biology. I think it's important for Christians to reject folk science and the lack of integrity its presence implies, and my goal in creating Quintessence of Dust is to help Christians understand biology.

But in response to my introductory post on RTB's repeated misuse of the concept of "junk DNA," a commenter, dbecke, raised a very serious concern regarding this quest of mine:

I'm still looking for a philosophical and theological position here that isn't "folk" philosophy or theology. As I mentioned earlier, I'm not sure it does a great service to those of us in the evangelical community who want to confront this honestly to merely debunk popular creationist organizations. We need serious evangelical theological input on how all this relates to the doctrines of scripture, man, and the fall. Are there theologians at Calvin, for example, who will accept and contextualize your position? Otherwise it seems to me that there's a danger of debunking people's faith along with the folk science. [italics are mine]

My comment in response mentions some resources that dbecke and others might consult in search of evangelical "contextualization" of common descent, and I try to reveal why it is that I'm not as agitated by the theological issues as are some of my friends and colleagues. But that is insignificant compared to the risk of "debunking people's faith," which is my subject here.

I think the thrust of dbecke's point is that the exposure of deficient creationist folk science by itself is not helpful, because thinking evangelicals also need a theological framework within which to consider natural history and causation. In a very basic sense, I agree, because I affirm that all Christians need a theological framework within which to consider all of creation. And even more generally, I think that dbecke is right to call on evangelical scholars to carefully consider the ancient earth and common ancestry in the context of historic confessions of Christian faith and traditional commitments of evangelical Protestantism.

But I have two big problems with the way the challenge is presented. Addressing these concerns gives me the opportunity to be clear about my theological perspective, and about the risks I see in most creationist apologetics. My intent, then, is not to contradict or correct dbecke as much as it is to explain exactly why I strive to discredit creationist folk science (and lies).

My two objections to this challenge involve my rejection of these two proposals:

1. It is assumed that the faith of a Christian can be undermined ("debunked") by rhetoric or argumentation; and
2. It is asserted that, given the aforementioned assumption, the debunking (by a fellow Christian) of bogus apologetic claims entails unacceptable risk to the faith of those who embraced those claims.

In short, I don't buy the premise and I disagree even more vehemently with the conclusion.

Those who know what it means to be Reformed might already understand my rejection of the premise. I hold faith to be a function of God's grace, so that people come to faith by virtue of the work of God, who alone brings the dead to life. I'm a good enough Calvinist to believe that no one can be snatched out of God's hand. Therefore, I don't believe that people are won to faith by reason, and conversely I don't believe that people can be separated from Christ by argumentation. (How all this actually works is another topic.) So if I seem to be unmoved by warnings about "debunking" people's faith, chalk it up to my Calvinism (and roll your eyes if it helps).

But I'm even more concerned about the suggestion that debunking folk science can lead to the "debunking" of someone's faith. For the sake of argument, let's grant that someone could be talked out of their belief. Now let's imagine someone who has based some measure of his belief on false claims regarding the natural world. For example, let's consider someone who has come to faith after reading Creation as Science by Hugh Ross. (We'll call this person Sam.) Now let's assume that Sam actually believes that "biologists have yet to observe any significant evolutionary change, other than extinctions" (p. 142) and that Sam concludes (with Ross) that this factoid (among others concocted by RTB) points to the reliability of Genesis 1. Sam's faith is contaminated by folk science, and in this case the folk science is bogus and easily refuted.

Sam's faith, then, is vulnerable to whatever extent it is dependent on folk science. And there are three possible outcomes here. Maybe Sam will sail through life without ever confronting the most basic facts about evolution. Or maybe Sam will live in blissful ignorance until the fateful day that s/he meets, say, Sam Harris. Or maybe Sam will meet fellow Christians who will help decontaminate his or her faith and, if all goes well, leave her or him strengthened and encouraged by the knowledge that the foundation of our faith is not to be found in our understanding of eukaryotic genetics.

If you want to worry about Christians being exposed to the "debunking" of their faith, you should worry most about that second possibility. (See Ronald Numbers' testimony at the beginning of The Creationists for an example.) If you want to help, then think about ways to encourage Christians in their faith as defined by your favorite creed, focused on the only one with the power to save. And if you want to express anger, vent it at those who are peddling shabby folk science labeled as 'apologetics'.

One of my aims is to help people de-bunk their faith. Bunk is worthless at best, dangerous at worst, and a disgrace to the name of Christ in any case.

I'll sign off with this little fable I composed (in consultation with a budding novelist to whom I've been married for 23 years and 3 days). I hope it crystallizes my ideas and intentions so that I don't need to express them again soon.

The New Bicycles

Once there was a town in which there were many large highways that converged around a prominent hill. Atop that hill sat the town's only library. In order to get to the library, citizens of the town had to traverse the highways, which were frequented by speeding trucks and vehicles driven by reckless and malicious punks. The highway system was occasionally expanded, and there were frequent -- if not always confirmed -- reports of grisly deaths on the highways. Citizens had always found various ways to get to the library in safety, but many never attempted the trip, and folks were always looking for safer and more convenient routes to the top of the hill.

One day there was a commotion in the town square, which was situated about a mile from the library. A tall, wise-looking man in a suit was advertising a new and highly effective means of getting to the library. He was selling bicycles, and his claims were extraordinary. "This bicycle," he announced, "will get you safely to the library every time, and it will be faster and easier than any other means you can imagine. This bicycle has been compared to every other conveyance ever designed, and it has been found to be utterly superior to all of them."

Some people were a little skeptical, and asked some obvious questions. How do you know so much about bicycles? "I worked for ten years as a car salesman." Who designed the bike? "I did, with some help from my assistant, who has done detailing on motorcycles." How does it work? "Simple. Just read the manual. You ride, really fast, straight up this road till you get to the library." Wait, is it really that easy? "It sure is. I explain it all in my books." But what about the dangerous highway crossings? "No problem at all. The bike sails right through. Works every time."

He sold a lot of bikes, and people seemed happy with the product. Some ecstatic customers returned and reported that they had reached the library without so much as a scratch. Some had even seen the murderous punks on the road, but reported no problems. (Those that didn't return...well, no one heard from them, so I guess everyone thought they were okay.)

But one day a new person showed up in the town square. She rode up on a Trek Portland (you know, the all-weather ten-speed with fenders and disc brakes) wearing bike shorts and a super cool jersey. Her helmet had a sun visor, and her backpack clanked with tools. She was quite curious about the bikes that the man was selling, but he didn't seem interested in discussing them with her.

She looked the bikes over, then she started talking to his customers. "I wouldn't buy that bike if I were you." Why not? "It's quite poorly made. For one thing, it doesn't have any brakes." How would you know it doesn't have brakes? "Well, I'm a cyclist and a bicycle repair specialist." So? The man who sold me this is a famous bike salesman. He once sold cars, you know. "Yes, I know, but I think it's pretty clear he doesn't know very much about bikes. This bike is dangerous. It will get you to the library quickly and easily, but it's not safe. You're in danger when crossing the roads." Someone else scoffed. Oh, nonsense. I've ridden mine to the library, and I'm fine. I brought back this book about how to go really fast across the highway on my bike. It's written by the salesman.

The cyclist continued inspecting the bikes, discovering numerous flaws in their design and learning that the customers rode the bikes through some particularly dangerous intersections. As she urged people not to buy or ride the salesman's bikes, she found that some were confused about their options. Are you saying there are bikes that are better than this one? "Oh, yes, definitely. You can get a bike with brakes and with gears and with mirrors. But you don't need a bike at all. You can walk. There are stoplights and crosswalks at some of the intersections elsewhere in town. You can get to the library without so much risk, and you can enjoy the view of the town on the way. It takes longer, and it's more effort, but it's fun and interesting, and you can use the money you would have spent on the bike to buy good walking shoes. Or books."

Then the cyclist was approached by an earnest young man. Why are you telling people to get off the bikes? Some of them might not get to the library. "I'm not telling them to skip the library. I'm not even telling them they have to walk. I'm just trying to get them off those dangerous bikes." But the bikes get them there quickly and easily, and some people depend on the bikes for their access to books. "Y'know, kid, I'm certain that there are other ways to get to the library -- walking, for instance. But even if some people need a bike, there are other bikes that are much better made. Sometimes they're even a lot cheaper. I mean, that guy at Macbeth Cyclery is pretty much giving them away. And I repeat: these bikes here are dangerous. Some of the punks on that road are trying to hurt people who are on the way to the library. Crossing the highway with a defective bike is foolish, don't you think?" The young man shook his head. I don't know. Are you sure that people won't get hurt on the way to the library? "No, I'm not sure of that, and I'm not saying that walking removes all risk. But I'm sure that people are not better off when they're riding across a freeway on a bike with no brakes that was designed by a car salesman."

Why I like the "New Atheists"

Recently I made a few comments on Greg Laden's Blog over at ScienceBlogs, in which I expressed some, um, concern regarding an aroma of ugly anti-Christian thuggery. The context was a silly (and banal) article on the "War on Christmas," which is some idiotic dustup in the so-called Culture Wars.

I've bashed Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion repeatedly on this blog. I'll probably do it again. And I dissed another crappy blog at ScienceBlogs because it consists of far more "atheist chest-beating" than science or scientific commentary.

All this might give the impression that I don't like atheists, or that I object when they get loud and feisty, or that a prominent aim of this blog is the debunking of atheist claims or the engagement of atheist polemics. Let me be clear: none of the above is true.

My primary audience -- the group of people for whom I intend to write -- is Christian, and especially evangelical. This doesn't mean that I assume that only Christians will read or appreciate the blog, but it does mean that I nearly always write with thinking Christians in mind. I am working to discredit the anti-evolution folk science of Reasons To Believe because I want evangelicals to abandon apologetics that damage the reputation of Christ and the church, and so I'm writing about their elementary errors for the sake of Christian integrity. Debunking nonsense and disarming attacks of various kinds are major goals of mine, but the targets aren't atheists -- they're Christians.

But still, you might wonder what I think of the New Atheists. In short: I think they're a welcome addition to the public square. Here are a few of my reasons.

1. Christianity (perhaps I should say Christendom) needs opposition.

For one thing, such opposition is a bit like peer review. The New Atheists aren't merely announcing their unbelief. They're saying, "we think your belief is idiotic." And they're saying, "we think your belief is harmful." I say we think of those challenges as negative comments from a manuscript reviewer. In science, when you get a nasty review of a manuscript, you either revise the manuscript or you explain to the editor why the reviewer is mistaken. (Or both. Usually both.) Even if the reviewer is a butthead, her/his critique must be effectively dealt with if the editor is to be convinced that the paper is worthy of publication. As I've mentioned before, peer review often makes the original article much better.

Moreover, active opposition can expose weaknesses that the church is otherwise unable to see or unwilling to acknowledge. These flaws might be noted by the critics, or they might be revealed in the ways Christians respond to the attack.

2. Unbelievers should be represented in the public square, in the same way that various faiths are (or ought to be).

The Christian Right has its culture warriors, other faiths have their well-known organizations and representatives. Right-wing Christians can applaud James Dobson, and thereby contribute to the cultural conversation; others of us can oppose him, and similarly stake a claim. How can it be unhealthy or inappropriate for atheist voices to speak similarly on behalf of like-minded persons?

3. The New Atheists are providing atheists an opportunity to clarify their various cultural positions, individually and collectively.

I suspect that many atheists don't care to be identified with an "atheist community" at all, but to whatever extent they do, they can use the New Atheists as a starting point for identifying areas of specific interest in public discourse. The New Atheists are speaking loudly in the public square, and some of them have staked out positions that may not represent anything remotely resembling a generalized "atheist" position.

I am eager to know, for example, whether most atheists would find Francis Collins' description of his conversion to represent a religious attack on science. Sam Harris apparently does. Is this a typical position for an atheist? For an atheist scientist? I would prefer to work with unbelievers who reject such warmongering, just as I would prefer to work with Christians who denounce and disavow just about everything Pat Robertson has ever said. The New Atheists, if nothing else, have created new topics for discussion, and given everyone new opportunities to weigh in on those questions.

4. The attack of the New Atheists has encouraged me as a Christian.

Wait...huh? I'm dead serious. I've read most of Dennett's Breaking the Spell, as well as his Darwin's Dangerous Idea and much of Consciousness Explained. (I really enjoy his writing and his arguments.) I haven't read any of Sam Harris other than that sickening letter to Nature, nor have I read Hitchens (outside my ravenous consumption of everything he writes in the Atlantic Monthly). But I've read almost everything Dawkins has ever written, including The God Delusion, and I've seen the hilariously sycophantic pleading on his behalf by Dennett and Michael Shermer. And this is my response:

That's it?! That's all you got?!

Now don't get me wrong. I don't think the New Atheists are stupid for doubting, or even for considering Christianity to be rubbish. I just don't find anything in their writing that is a threat to my belief.

So...here's to the New Atheists. May God richly bless them.

Belief, evolution, evil, and me

My recent post on the so-called problem of evil has generated some interesting comments that are worth addressing in a separate post. The comments raise questions of a somewhat personal nature, but because I write as a Christian, I think the issues are fair game.

One commenter, Ron, addresses the "compatibility" of God and suffering, and reads Scott Carson to be claiming that we must either blame humans for the whole mess, or dismiss suffering as unimportant since "the body is just a physical shell." I think Scott's answer is bigger than that, and would point Ron to some of Scott's more recent articles, but Ron's remarks do raise the question of what I think of suffering and the "problem of evil."

And Paul wonders why I believe any of Christianity, after correctly noting that I don't think that evolution or the problem of evil poses "a threat to Christians."

First evolution (i.e., common descent, and specifically shared ancestry between humans and other creatures). In my view, evolution as a scientific explanation is no more a threat to Christian belief than any other scientific explanation. (My favorite comparisons would involve embryonic development, where natural explanation is ubiquitous, largely uncontroversial, and contradicted by certain readings of certain biblical passages.) If evolution is a special problem for Christians, the problem is not in the explanation, but in the historical narrative. I don't consider that a "threat" to Christian belief, but I do think it's a problem worth working on. Perhaps by the end of this post it will be clear why I'm not threatened by the historical narrative issue.

Let me explain a little more about why I think evolutionary theory is no different from other science in its potential to undermine belief. Science, to me, is the rational exploration of God's creation. This ongoing exploration has enabled humans to assemble reliable explanations for innumerable phenomena of interest: sunrise and sunset, moonlight, weather, growth and development of plants and animals, causation of various diseases. Some of these are phenomena for which biblical writers offered "explanations" that are either incorrect (on a plain reading) or are not natural explanations at all. In my view, various "scientific" accounts in the Bible are easily seen to be folk science or, more generously, what John Calvin called "accommodation." This fact about scripture was known to many Christians long before anyone even dreamed of an ancient earth or common descent. Evolution came very late to that game, and it seems to me that those who claim to reject faith upon reading in Genesis about the "two great lights" in "the vault of the sky" are on better footing than those who reject Christianity because evolution falsifies "each according to its kind."

Furthermore, in case this isn't already obvious, I reject any implication that natural explanation even addresses divine action or agency. Psalms 104 and 139 famously deal with biological phenomena of great interest to biologists, including predation and human embryonic development, and assign causation to God using some of the same Hebrew words used in more fantastic contexts in Genesis. More to the point, Paul in Colossians 1 seems to identify Christ as the source of essentially all natural causation: "For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together." And so I find distinctions between natural and supernatural causation to be pedantic at best, dangerous at worst. God works in the world. I'm curious about how he does it, and I happen to believe that much of this work can be understood.

The problem with evolution, as I've noted before, is that the history of human sin (i.e., the fall) does not fit clearly as a historical narrative. And while I concede that this is a problem, I don't see how it's a deal-breaker for Christian belief (or for my belief, anyway). Before I explain why, let me turn to the problem of evil.

It seems to me that the problem of evil, as typically presented, reduces to something like this: "If I were God, I would do X. God doesn't do X. This is a problem."

Don't like that paraphrase? How about this one: "God must be good. If he's good, he should do good things. And he should stop bad things. I have determined that he doesn't always do good things and/or stop bad things. This is a problem."

I haven't written the problem in those ways so that I can convince unbelievers that the problem is silly or that they are stupid for wrestling with it. I wrote it like that to illustrate how I, as a believer, see the "problem." My faith doesn't start with moral reasoning or other judgments and end with God, like this: "I have determined that God does good things, therefore I will believe in Him." Indeed, that kind of talk is antithetical to my Reformed perspective. I start with my belief. I start with an act of grace, leading to belief. I start with God: "completely wise, just, and good" as the Belgic Confession puts it. And, noting that biblical authors -- and Jesus himself -- did not seem to fret about the "problem of evil," I conclude that the existence of suffering is, in fact, "compatible" with God's character and existence. The alternative, that I would judge God's actions, is an absurdity to me as a believer.

And this leads me to Paul's question: why do I believe? He offers me these choices: "Do you believe it because you are convinced by some reasoning or does it just resonate with you?" It's not the former, so I guess it's the "resonate" thing. I can't really say why I believe; I attribute my faith to an act of God himself, in good Calvinist fashion. But I can offer this additional observation regarding "what makes me tick": I see my faith and my reading of scripture as radiating out from the life of Jesus. His incarnation, life, death, and ascension are The Story. I don't start at the beginning, with the ancient Near Eastern cosmology, then work my way through till I get to Pentecost. I really do focus on Jesus, the Alpha and the Omega.

As I explained before, my emphasis on Christ's preeminence makes the academic issue of Adam's actual home address a mere curiosity. And natural evil? Well, among other things, his incarnation accomplished this: he didn't make our suffering go away; he entered into it with us. That might not be what I "want," or what I would do, but it's so very different from the sterile Hobson's choice that standard "problem of evil" formulations present.

All right, sorry that went on so long. My intent was to be open about my belief, and the perspectives that underlie my thoughts on this blog. Now back to some hard science.

Oh look. It's the problem of evil.

There are some really superb blogs over at Science Blogs, and some of the best ones are required reading here. It's hard to stomach PZ's religious blatherings, but he's a gifted science writer and a skilled commentator on developmental issues in evolution. Laelaps is a treasure trove, and Shelley Batts should have won that scholarship; her neuroscience blog, Retrospectacle, is varied and always sharp. And I'm sure that undiscovered treasures are buried in the many blogs I've never visited.

But there are some blogs over there that are little more than the diaries of atheists. Not that there's anything wrong with that (i.e., godlessness): Larry Moran's Sandwalk is one of my must-reads, as is Abbie Smith's ERV, and like many well-informed bloggers who are evolutionists, both are skeptics. Their blogs are important because they're full of serious science, the kind of analysis that is actually more dangerous to creationism and ID than the newsletter fodder that gets pinned up on the walls of the blogs of less thoughtful commentators. If the bosses at Science Blogs haven't already tried, they should beg Larry Moran to move Sandwalk to Science Blogs. And if they're starting to consider a no-growth policy, then they should let Sandwalk take the place of the surprisingly shallow EvolutionBlog of Jason Rosenhouse.

Early on here at QoD, I had EvolutionBlog on my Blogs of Note list, simply because a prominent blog (as evidenced by its presence at Science Blogs) on "the endless dispute between evolution and creationism" seemed apropos. But it's sadly short on science, and long on anti-faith chest-beating. Ooh, but here's something new: the problem of evil.

There are at least two things that I find odd about much of what passes for atheist commentary on the problem of evil. First, folks like Rosenhouse seem to think that every instance of suffering (by humans or giraffes or echidnas or moths) represents a new instance of the problem of evil, as though the problem is magnified with each new meal by a carnivore. Heaping more dead salmon on the pile, it seems to me, doesn't change the basic problem of suffering in God's world. Second, I'm fascinated by the nearly-ubiquitous implication that the problem of evil is somehow linked to common descent. Huh? Humans, including Christians, were quite well acquainted with suffering and natural evil -- on an apocalyptic scale -- long before Darwin scooped Wallace. The problem of evil, if it's a problem for Christianity, isn't linked in any unique way to evolutionary theory.

But there's not much more for me to say, because Scott Carson does it so much better. I've removed the worthless EvolutionBlog from my blogroll, and replaced it with Carson's An Examined Life. (Thanks to John Farrell for the tips.) His latest post, Notes from the Scorecard Department, is the kind of blog article that should make textbook publishers nervous. If you're a Christian, be warned: you may find harsher words there for yourself than for blissfully ignorant bloggers like Jason Rosenhouse. And if you think the question of suffering is a big deal, start with Carson's claim that the Problem of Evil isn't a problem at all. No matter how you come down on the question, take note of the difference in depth of thought and analysis. Rosenhouse:Philosophy :: Behe:Genetics.

"The gift is not like the trespass"

Our family embraced the Reformed tradition (of evangelical Christianity) while we were a part of Park Street Church in Boston. We have many fond memories of our time at Park Street; I first picked up a copy of Del Ratzsch's excellent Science and Its Limits from the church library there, and it was at Park Street where we first learned about Calvin College. But right now, I'm remembering the many times when I heard a particularly excellent sermon, the kind of sermon that makes you feel as if you're hearing simple and well-known truths for the first time. If you're a Christian, perhaps you know what I'm talking about. This past Sunday, I had one of those experiences. The text was Romans 5:12-21, and when my friend Rev. David Kromminga was finished, I had that weird feeling like I'd never read Romans 5 in my life. It's worth sharing here, because the text is one that surfaces amid creationist objections to evolutionary theory.

If there is any problem at all between evolution and Christian belief, it arises in the context of the historical narrative of redemptive history. (The notion that evolutionary theory, as a natural explanation, is hostile to Christian belief is, in my opinion, preposterous. Hence my low regard for ID.) Specifically, the historical nature of the Fall, in which sin and death entered the world due to the actions of two particular people, is difficult to fit into the narrative of common ancestry.

In my view, the problem is simply historical (the stories don't seem to fit well together), but many Christians see a more serious conflict, because they believe that the existence of a single historical Adam is central in the redemption narrative. In fact, I'm sure that the vast majority of evangelicals would take this position. And Romans 5 would be a big reason why.

The standard proof text is this one: "Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned..." (Romans 5:12, TNIV). The basic claim, that sin entered through Adam, is repeated three more times in the passage. Moroever, the passage clearly sets up Adam and Christ as types to be compared. No list of "dangers of theistic evolution" would be complete without reference to Romans 5.

I think this is sad, because it seems to me that Paul is trying to say something much bigger than "Adam brought death, Christ brings life." The problem with that summary is that it strongly intimates a kind of equality between the two types, as though Adam's sin was "cancelled out" by Christ's redemptive work. What Paul is saying, I think, is something like this: "don't think for a moment that one of those is equal to the other." Verse 12: "The gift is not like the trespass." Or, as David put it on Sunday: "the rot does not equal the redemption." Read the whole passage; Paul's repetition suggests that he is determined to make sure we get that message.

I agree that the "historical Adam" question is a tough one. But I'm not sure it's enormously important. Adam was the "dirt man." Jesus is the God man. The gift is not like the trespass. Let's not compare the God man to the dirt man, as though they're two sides of the same coin. And let's not forget that Jesus is the author and finisher, the beginning and the end. Even if we never figure out how that whole dirt-man thing actually went, we'll know everything we need to know if we know the God man.

Sympathy for the Devil's Chaplain (Part II)

Long before Richard Dawkins topped the charts with his recent entry into the folk-religion genre, he was reviled by Christian culture warriors as a Public Enemy, an ayatollah of atheism, the embodiment of the evil that ensnares all who embrace Darwin's Dangerous Idea^TM. His revivalistic fervor, combined with his, um, expertise in handling the media, makes him a near-perfect spokesperson for unbelief, and consequently he is credited with some now-famous pronouncements on subjects related to faith and science.

Now to be sure, some of Dawkins' more colorful and/or controversial statements are indefensible, and his fellow atheists at least occasionally point this out. (I do think that unbelievers should be more willing to disavow some of his truly sickening behavior, but if atheists asked me for quid pro quo, I'd need to blog 10 hours a day just on the subject of evangelical Christian misconduct.)

But this is the second of two articles in which I do penance for referring to the Devil's Chaplain as an 'idiot.' So I'm not going to catalog his misdeeds/misstatements. Instead, I'll to pick a few of his more famous sentences and explain why every Christian's favorite materialist mullah is often just being brutally frank.

First, let's acknowledge that sometimes Dawkins is misunderstood and/or misrepresented. The first few chapters of The Extended Phenotype, as I explained in my previous post, involve Dawkins' careful exposition of the ways in which his ideas had been misconstrued, sometimes wildly so. For a more recent example, consider the whole "brights" episode. In the summer of 2003, Dawkins and fellow atheist apostle Daniel Dennett launched a campaign (in the UK and USA) to get atheists more respect. They called on fellow unbelievers to adopt the label "bright," analogous to the label "gay" successfully adopted by homosexuals. Many Christians I know found this to be arrogant and offensive, mostly because they connected the dots and interpreted "bright" to be the opposite of "dumb" or "dim." Dennett has specifically disclaimed this intention (see also page 21 of Breaking the Spell), and I'm taking his word for it. So, let's not waste our time demonizing Dawkins for offhand comments that may not reflect what he really believes.

Here, then, are some of Dawkins' better-known remarks, and my comments.

1. "Undisguised clarity" or arrogance?

It is absolutely safe to say that if you meet somebody who claims not to believe in evolution, that person is ignorant, stupid or insane (or wicked, but I'd rather not consider that).

--from a review of Blueprints: Solving the Mystery of Evolution, in the New York Times, 9 April 1989

Ah yes, this is, I think, The Mother of All Richard Dawkins Quotes. It's provided fodder for Christian critics of all stripes, essentially all of whom express indignation and outrage. I see two types of responses. One response is universal: everyone who attacks the statement says that it is arrogant or bullying. The other is specific to anti-evolution critics: they say (of course) that it is wrong. In this latter camp, we find young-earth creationists denouncing Dawkins with typical vitriol, but also "skeptics" like Alvin Plantinga, who insist that there can be reasoned doubt about evolutionary explanations.

On the first count, while I agree (as do other atheists) that Dawkins can be abrasive and insensitive, I am generally uninterested in controversies surrounding etiquette. There are, of course, appropriate and inappropriate ways to tell someone that they don't have a bloody clue what they're talking about, but I know just how hard it can be to remain patient while being regaled (for the umpteenth time) with all the stock objections to evolution. (My most recent little piece of hate mail came from a man who shamelessly confessed to having first learned all the biology he needed to know from a local weatherman. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP.) Yes, there is probably a nice way to say "you're wrong about that," but (perhaps owing to my Scottish ancestry) I'd rather be clearly corrected than have to sit through all the fawning disclaimers.

I think Dawkins was trying to say "evolution is beyond a reasonable doubt" in a dramatic and attention-getting way. And he succeeded. Now, was he displaying arrogance or intolerance? I'm quite sensitive to this charge; it has been thrown at me by at least one evolution-bashing colleague. I do worry about being arrogant, at least because I'm not (usually) trying to be obnoxious. But, as Dawkins noted in a subsequent reflection on criticism of the quote in question: "undisguised clarity is easily mistaken for arrogance." Was he being over-the-top obnoxious? Intolerant? Insensitive? Well, let's have a look at a little of the context of the quote:

We are not talking about Darwin's particular theory of natural selection. It is still (just) possible for a biologist to doubt its importance, and a few claim to. No, we are here talking about the fact of evolution itself, a fact that is proved utterly beyond reasonable doubt. To claim equal time for creation science in biology classes is about as sensible as to claim equal time for the flat-earth theory in astronomy classes. Or, as someone has pointed out, you might as well claim equal time in sex education classes for the stork theory. It is absolutely safe to say that if you meet somebody who claims not to believe in evolution, that person is ignorant, stupid or insane (or wicked, but I'd rather not consider that).

If that gives you offense, I'm sorry. You are probably not stupid, insane or wicked; and ignorance is no crime in a country with strong local traditions of interference in the freedom of biology educators to teach the central theorem of their subject. I recently toured East Coast radio stations, doing phone-ins. I came away optimistic. I had expected hostile barracking from creationists with closed minds. Instead, what I found was genuine curiosity and honest interest. I got sincere questions from intelligent people who really wanted to know because they had literally no education in evolution.

--from a review of Blueprints: Solving the Mystery of Evolution, in the New York Times, 9 April 1989

When the quip is put back into its native habitat, I find it to be provocative but not inappropriate. It can be paraphrased, in my opinion, as follows: "If you claim to doubt evolution, then I'm quite sure this is because you don't know much about it. I can think of a few other reasons, but they're not nearly as likely, and some of them wouldn't reflect well on you." And I do think that the context makes clear that Dawkins is specifically addressing common descent.

Which brings us to the second response to the quote: that it is wrong, because there is plenty of room for reasonable doubt regarding common descent. In my view, common descent is indeed beyond a reasonable doubt. (If I felt like dealing with the different meanings of the word 'evolution,' I would have typed them here.) And so, like Dawkins, I think there are relatively few means by which one would arrive at rejection of common descent. Ignorance is by far the most commonly-traveled path. Stupidity sure isn't going to help. Insanity is not worth discussing. Wickedness...well, some people do seem to, um, prevaricate about evolutionary science, but come on: that's not what Dawkins was saying. He was saying this: if you doubt common descent, you either don't understand it, or you are refusing to understand it. And to Dawkins, this refusal to understand, this willful ignorance if you will, is insane, stupid, even wicked.

Now, it's important to note that Dawkins was referring to common ancestry in his comments. Many Christian critics imply that Dawkins was denouncing any and all skepticism of evolutionary theory. I think the fuller context of his remarks makes clear that this criticism is invalid.

But is ignorance really the only reason why a reasonably intelligent person might reject common ancestry? In his follow-up, Dawkins allows that his analysis may have been incomplete:

There is perhaps a fifth category, which may belong under 'insane' but which can be more sympathetically characterised by a word like tormented, bullied or brainwashed. Sincere people who are not ignorant, not stupid and not wicked, can be cruelly torn, almost in two, between the massive evidence of science on the one hand, and their understanding (or misunderstanding) of what their holy book tells them on the other. I think this is one of the truly bad things religion can do to a human mind. There is wickedness here, but it is the wickedness of the institution and what it does to a believing victim, not wickedness on the part of the victim himself.

It is here that I part with Dawkins, at least a little. I know people who doubt common descent (more specifically, universal common descent), not because they are ignorant of the data or of the explanation, but because they have an additional data set that needs to be taken into account. These folks understand the Bible to be making certain factual claims about the age of the earth or of the nature of the Fall. They know, full well, why scientists accept common descent as a scientific explanation, but are searching for a rival explanation that also enfolds the "biblical data." As I've written before, I think these people are mistaken about the "biblical data," but they are not torn, tormented, bullied, brainwashed. You can probably tell that I respect the ideas and work of these young-earth creationist theorists vastly more than those of the Intelligent Design movement. Similarly, I find Alvin Plantinga's (now dated) criticisms of evolutionary science to be embarrassingly weak (even in their time), but when he expresses doubts based on possible points of factual conflict with Christian belief (i.e., the assertion that humans were created "specially"), then his skepticism cannot be dismissed using Dawkins' rubric.

2. Darwin made me an atheist.

Darwin made it possible to be an intellectually fulfilled atheist.

-- from The Blind Watchmaker (1996 Edition), page 6

Plenty of Christians are convinced that evolution is a particularly sharp implement in the Devil's toolbox; some creationists seem convinced that the theory is at the root of every known evil. (Adam must be relieved.) Certainly many are quite sure that accepting evolution is a big step toward unbelief.

And that's what Richard Dawkins thinks, right? Well, maybe, but here's that quote in its complete context:

...what Hume did was criticize the logic of using apparent design in nature as positive evidence for the existence of a God. He did not offer any alternative explanation for apparent design, but left the question open. An atheist before Darwin could have said, following Hume: 'I have no explanation for complex biological design. All I know is that God isn't a good explanation, so we must wait and hope that somebody comes up with a better one.' I can't help feeling that such a position, though logically sound, would have left one feeling pretty unsatisfied, and that although atheism might have been logically tenable before Darwin, Darwin made it possible to be an intellectually fulfilled atheist.

-- from The Blind Watchmaker (1996 Edition), page 6 (italics in original)

In other words, Darwin provided a natural explanation for a previously-unexplained set of observations -- granted, a vast and overwhelmingly impressive set of observations -- namely, "endless forms most beautiful" in living creations. But really, that's all Darwin did, and I think that's all Dawkins is saying here. This matters to atheists, I presume, because unexplained stuff (of any kind) makes them uncomfortable. Providing a natural explanation for anything -- comets, hurricanes, pleasure, pain, neuronal development -- makes the world a little more comfy for an atheist. And that makes sense to me. As Alvin Plantinga puts it: "...evolution serves to answer what would otherwise be a crushing objection to naturalism."

I think Dawkins is surely right about all this, but I think it's a mistake for Christians to overemphasize his otherwise indisputable assertion. First of all, while scientific explanations might make it easier for an atheist to sleep, they ought not affect the slumber of a believer, unless that believer, like Dawkins, has anchored her/his belief in natural phenomena that can't be explained. I reject the notion of God as an Explanation, and I'm distressed by the impression that so many of my fellow Christians feel so compelled to find unexplained phenomena, so as to label them "God's work." Second of all, I think it's a dangerous thing to suggest that people become atheists because of a scientific theory. Maybe that's because, as a Reformed Christian, I don't think it's nearly that easy to separate someone from the love of Christ. And finally, I am uncomfortable with the notion, upon which whole ministries seem to be based, that scientific explanations (or lack thereof) are strongly linked to belief. Doesn't Hebrews 11:3 say something different?

3. Believing without evidence?

Richard Dawkins, the scientist's scientist, actually confessed that he has religious belief -- in evolution. He said that he would believe it even if it were unsupported by evidence. No, really:

Even if there were no actual evidence in favour of the Darwinian theory (there is, of course) we should still be justified in preferring it over all rival theories.

Even if the evidence did not favour it [evolution], it would still be the best theory available!

-- from The Blind Watchmaker (1996 Edition), pages 287 & 317 (italics in original)

Oh, the fun that ID people have had with these. Outside the intended context, it does look like Dawkins is advocating "blind faith" in evolutionary theory, as though he embraces the theory only to escape the clutches of a loathed rival. Whether or not Dawkins sees evolution that way, the quotes above are not what they seem, and in fact they are assertions with which I handily agree.

Let's take the second quote and put it back into the paragraph from which it was excerpted:

The theory of evolution by cumulative natural selection is the only theory we know of that is in principle capable of explaining the existence of organized complexity. Even if the evidence did not favour it, it would still be the best theory available! In fact the evidence does favour it. But that is another story.

-- from The Blind Watchmaker (1996 Edition), page 317 (italics in original)

Here Dawkins is doing something that I tried to do in my first post on this blog: he is separating the evidence for evolution from the explanatory power of evolutionary theory. Notice that he didn't write, "Even if the evidence contradicted it..." In fact, Dawkins loves to relate the response of J.B.S. Haldane to the question of whether and how evolution could be falsified: "fossil rabbits in the Precambrian." It's really not reasonable at all to suggest that Dawkins is claiming that one ought to accept evolution in spite of the evidence, and the rest of the chapter ("Doomed rivals") from which the quotes are taken makes this quite clear.

What Dawkins is saying, I think, can be paraphrased like so: "We ought to prefer evolutionary theory over its rivals, whether or not there is more evidence in favor of evolution, because the theory is the only one that provides a compelling natural explanation for biological complexity." You don't need to be an atheist, or a "Darwinian fundamentalist," or wicked or insane, to agree. You need only be a person who prefers natural explanations for the natural world, a person who thinks that the formation of the wonders of God's biological creation can be understood by some of those very wonders.

Okay, I'm done with my penance. Back to the Journal Clubs; I have a backlog of articles worthy of our attention.