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.

How evolution can inspire faith

It is understandably typical for Christians to consider evolution as something that confronts and challenges faith. To say that North American evangelicals consider evolution to be largely incompatible with Christian belief is to state the painfully obvious. An evangelical who will just admit that common descent might be true is a progressive thinker, and much of the current discussion is dominated by attempts to push back on evolution by suggesting that it really isn't a completely accurate – or even minimally accurate – description of the development of life in God's world. Almost certainly because of perceived "incompatibilities," evangelical theological reflection on the implications of various scientific conclusions, specifically with regard to biblical interpretation, is regularly decried as dangerously inadequate. (Consider Peter Enns' recent review of a new book on the age of the earth by two of my most excellent colleagues. HT: David Opderbeck.) In other words, many thinking evangelicals are concerned about the lack of serious evangelical engagement of evolutionary theory.

But help is on the way. I've already mentioned Gordon Glover's wonderful Beyond the Firmament (and I reviewed it for the forthcoming issue of the Reports of the NCSE). I haven't seen Denis Lamoureux's Evolutionary Creation yet, but if it's as good as Mike Beidler says, then the landscape is looking a lot less barren. And now we have a very significant new voice in the conversation: my friend Daniel Harrell, associate minister at Park Street Church in Boston, a brilliant reformed preacher and gifted thinker whose ministry had a profound impact on myself and my family at a critical juncture in our spiritual lives. Daniel has written an excellent and interesting book on evolution and Christianity, and I give it my highest possible recommendation.

It's called Nature's Witness: How Evolution Can Inspire Faith, and you can buy it at Amazon or CBD right now. I read it a few months ago and blurbed it, and sometime in the next few months I hope to review it here. In the meantime, look for occasional comments and quotes. But for now, here's an excerpt from the Introduction, presented with permission from the publisher. In fact, this is the bulk of the Introduction, but the final paragraph is the paragraph I would have chosen to capture the essence of Daniel's approach and his project.

Walking across the Boston Common one cold winter’s eve, I was approached by a gentleman, somewhat agitated, who recognized me from church. “Are you the minister who’s writing the book on evolution?” This didn’t sound good. “Uh, ... yes?” I replied, bracing myself. “Do you believe in the word of God? Do you believe that God created the heavens and the earth in six days, like the Bible says?” His articulation was semiautomatic—as was his tone. I assured him that yes, I believed the Bible says that God created the heavens and the earth in six days. I also believe that rivers clap their hands and that mountains sing (Ps 98:9) because the Bible says that too. But I don’t think that the Bible means six twenty-four-hour days any more than I believe that the Bible means that rivers have literal hands. He worried that I suffered from delusion (which as far as I am concerned is never outside the realm of possibility). However, I reminded him that there are two types of delusion. There is the delusion that believes something that is not true, and there is the delusion that fails to believe something that is true. If evolution is an accurate description of the emergence of life, as science attests, then believing it alongside the Bible should pose no threat. There’s no need to fear any honest search for truth because in the end, all honest searches for truth inevitably lead back to God. Historically, religious faith, particularly Christianity, served as the loom onto which the discoveries of science were woven. It was within a Christian theological framework that scientific disclosure found its transcendent meaning. Descartes, Bacon, Galileo, Kepler and Newton, believers all, saw their work not as replacements for faith, but as extensions of it. The idea was that the best of science and the best of theology concerted to give human beings deeper insight into the workings of the universe and, subsequently, into the divine character. Scientific discovery was received with gratitude to the Almighty for the wonder of his creation. Scientists, alongside the psalmist, would proclaim, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands” (Ps 19:1 NIV). The balance between faith and science (or reason) was established in the Middle Ages by Thomas Aquinas. Aquinas, building on Augustine, established a delicate equilibrium between theology (reasoning down from faith) and philosophy, analogous to science (reasoning up from sensory data). Aquinas, unlike the Reformers who would follow, taught that human senses and rational faculties, as made by God, were competent for understanding reality, albeit from a limited standpoint. The limits were filled in by theology. Aquinas asserted that God acted through “secondary causes,” creating the world according to his laws and then giving nature room to unfold in accordance with God’s laws. Whatever was good science was good as far as God is concerned; science simply described what God had already done. However, if God operated mostly behind the scenes as the prime cause, then it wasn’t long before people started wondering whether he was there at all. In time, reliance upon divine revelation gave way to human reason in its Enlightenment form, and soon the supernatural was rendered superfluous. As science advanced, Christians reacted by retreating into a sort of Manichean dualism whereby science was demonized and faith grew reliant on a super-supernatural world where any ordinary explanation raised suspicion. With battle lines so starkly drawn, scientists were left to assume that any move toward Christian faith was akin to committing intellectual suicide. Conversely, the faithful relied on science for their medicine or the weather forecast, but much more than that was to attempt spiritual suicide. Let a spark of evolution in the door and you were liable to catch the whole house on fire. The controversy between Christian faith and evolution is exacerbated by increasing mounds of scientific data that lend weight to evolution. Paleontology, biochemistry, cosmology, physics, genetics—you name the discipline—each regularly puts forth newly discovered evidence in support of Darwin’s simple idea of descent with modification. While some people of faith choose to keep their doors closed, shutting out science is not necessary. Christian faith by definition defies human conceptions of reality (1 Cor 3:19). Its claims are grounded in extraordinary events that defy scientific explanation (most importantly the incarnation and resurrection of Jesus). But God is not only present where science is silent; he remains present even where science speaks loudest. The expansiveness of the universe, the beauty and complexity of organic life and the remarkable makeup of human consciousness—naturally explicable occurrences—are also interpreted by Christians as manifestations of God (Rom 1:20). Christianity consistently asserts that all truth is God’s truth, implying that faith and science, despite differences when it comes to explaining why, nevertheless should agree in regard to what is. Why bother talking about God if God has no relation to observable reality? An avalanche of books has been devoted to the controversy between Christianity and evolution. Don’t expect a contribution to that debate here. There are plenty of other places where that conversation occurs. Instead, I’d like to look at Christian faith in the face of evolution as essentially true as most scientists assert. Now I know that just because a particular theory makes sense of the way something could have happened, it doesn’t necessarily mean that it actually happened that way. But if evolution truly provides an accurate description of life on earth, and things did happen the way evolution describes, how might we rethink the way we think about what the Bible says? To rethink what we think about the Bible is not to rewrite Scripture, nor is it to capitulate to Christianity’s detractors. Instead, rethinking and reworking our theology in light of accurate data results in a more dependable and resilient theology. To be a serious Christian is to seek truth and find it as revealed by God both in Scripture and in nature. If God is the maker of heaven and earth, as we believe, then the heavens and earth, as science describes them, have something to say about God. Natural selection need not imply godless selection. To be reliable witnesses of creation can’t help but make us more reliable witnesses to the Creator.

I hope you're intrigued. Go buy the book—you'll love it—then look for occasional conversations here about some of Daniel's ideas.

Steve Matheson, Calvin College

Of course there's a double standard!

Bilbo has become a regular commenter here, and he is a very welcome addition. He is a semi-regular contributor to the ID blog Telic Thoughts, and I've had the pleasure of meeting him in person. A layman who is willing to acknowledge his limited understanding of evolutionary science, he's thoughtful and direct.

I'll address his comments and questions regarding Michael Behe's The Edge of Evolution in a separate post. Here I'll tackle his peevish accusation that I employ a double standard when I lambaste the punk Dembski but (allegedly) give a pass to the Atheist Ayatollah PZ Myers. The reference is to Crackergate, the brouhaha surrounding Myers' effort to desecrate a Roman Catholic communion wafer. (Greg Laden put together some good links, and the good folks at the Boar's Head Tavern are discussing the saga and its recent conclusion.)

First, it's not true that I haven't been critical of Myers' behavior. Over at Clashing Culture, where I blog on science and belief with three others, Mike (who also blogs at Tangled Up in Blue Guy) started a discussion of the then-unfolding dustup, focusing on the juxtaposition of Myers' offense with the death threats he subsequently received (one of which cost someone her job). The ensuing conversation was quite interesting, I thought, and included three comments by me. I didn't re-post them here, for various reasons, and I don't think it's necessary to do that (in full) now, especially since some of the references to other comments will be confusing. Instead, I'll just summarize with some excerpts.

On why PZ's "desecration" is not mere "criticism" or even "ridicule":

If PZ’s behavior is notable at all, it isn’t notable for being critical or dismissive of the beliefs of others. In fact, I would be opposed to an ethos that discouraged the critical appraisal of “beliefs” or that considered any kind of “desecration” to be somehow anti-social or hate-inspired. Some of the things I believe are nothing short of outrageous in the eyes of certain other kinds of believers. No, there’s nothing notable about attacking religious belief.

What would make PZ’s statements disturbing would be if it was apparent that he wasn’t aiming to attack or criticize ideas – or at least not solely intending such – but was plainly hoping to hurt people. [...] I’m afraid that I found PZ’s words to look too much like hate, too much like the kind of thing that is specifically and solely intended to cause harm. That the harm is not physical in nature is only relevant when comparing it to, say, a death threat...

It’s a fact that PZ’s denunciations occasionally veer into territory that is reasonably construed as hate speech, and his lusty participation in the Culture War (TM) necessarily leads him into questionable conduct. Truth, after all, is the first casualty of war, and Crackergate is incomprehensible outside the framework of Total Culture War.

On why mere unbelief can't justify desecration:

What’s worse, a death threat or a desecration threat? The answer is obvious, but the question is a lot more interesting than it appears, because (in this crowd, so far) the combination of transubstantiation and sanctification of mass-produced wafers is considered to be ludicrous. [...]

But let’s change the sacred cow, and see what happens. Let’s try a picture of Dr. King, or an account of his legacy, or a transcript of the “I Have a Dream” speech, and let’s do our desecration on his birthday, on the spot where he was assassinated. Or let’s try a Holocaust memorial, or a Jewish graveyard in Poland. Don’t worry: we’ll use water-based spraypaint for the swastikas so the desecration will be temporary. And of course no one will be injured. Can you think of anything else? I sure can.

On why, specifically, I thought PZ's stunt was reprehensible:

...my problem is with the occasional lapse into something more plainly destructive. PZ’s proposed desecration was not designed to “ridicule” an idea. It was meant to enrage, to hurt, to do damage. It wasn’t merciless criticism. It was hate. It wasn’t aimed at an idea. It was aimed at Catholics. People.

Now, for the record, I’m a Christian and I think transubstantiation is codswallop. I think it’s incorrect, and I could even explain why I think it might be a non-innocuous incorrect belief. If I had the time or inclination, I could write a lot of things about the Catholic eucharist that would be scandalous at best in the eyes of a good Catholic. If I was in a bad mood, I might ridicule the idea - I certainly don’t give it high regard.

None of those things, in my view, is even comparable to the stunt that PZ was discussing.

Mike, the vast majority of PZ’s brutal criticisms of religion are legit. They’re the kind of bare-knuckled roughing-up of ideas that I think is not just tolerable, but welcome. But every now and then, he steps in it. It’s one of the hazards of Culture War. The only way to win…is not to play.

So yes, Bilbo, I did condemn PZ's actions, and I was quite specific about why. I should add that PZ's recent post in which he announces the "desecration" (and shows the results) is worth reading. The desecration, in my opinion, was unnecessary and ultimately contemptible. But Myers' commentary is illuminating. As I've said before, the critiques and attacks of the New Atheists are good for the church.

But much more importantly, I assert that it doesn't matter whether I ever said boo about Crackergate. Because Bilbo, there is indeed a double standard, and the moral distinction I see between Pharyngula and Uncommon Descent is hard to exaggerate. (Not to mention the scientific difference: Myers has recently posted superb summaries of snake segmental development and evolution, and of epigenetics; UD just put up a hilarious pseudonymous post in which the writer extrapolates from a misattributed abstract about fruit fly gene formation to a calculation about how "man" could have "evolved from the monkey." Just posting the link is savage mockery.) Briefly:

1. As DarwinCatholic has already noted, the bloggers at UD are largely (if not exclusively) Christian, and Dembski is a professor at a Baptist seminary. These folks aren't just Christians; they're public Christians and apologists. PZ Myers is an atheist. Does anyone need a list of proof texts for why I think Christians should be held to higher – much higher – moral standards than pagans?
2. The sickest crap at UD isn't the usual dishonesty and shoddy pseudoscholarship. It's the religious propaganda, a toxic mix of normal everyday bullshit (about "Darwinism") and the pearls of our lives as Christians: scripture, our confessions, even the name of Jesus, the chief cornerstone. What's worse, I ask: Myers' desecration of a piece of matter that he reckons a mere cracker, or Bill Dembski's malicious use of Christ as a lame polemical device? I'm sure you already know where I stand.

Uncommon Descent is a moral cesspool, a festering intellectual ghetto that intoxicates and degrades its inhabitants. Kudos to you, Bilbo, for denouncing Dembski's idiotic post, but let's have no more talk of "double standards" when it comes to criticism of the ID movement's pervasive pathology. I'll see you at Telic Thoughts.

Survivor:UD -- when will they vote Matheson off?

Okay, that'll probably be the last UD moderation joke, because my irresistible charm has had its predictable (non-random) effect. I have a nice discussion going with two regulars at Uncommon Descent, StephenB and the original poster, Thomas Cudworth. I'll post my contribution below as usual, and you can read the rest of the conversation in the growing thread at Uncommon Descent.

Before you go there, have a look at this nice (older) post on randomness in the Bible, at Martin LaBar's blog, Sun and Shield. Martin is a regular commenter here, and his blog is a joy to read.

Please jump in here if you wish; I don't moderate comments and will welcome any and all.

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I'll respond to both Thomas and StephenB here. First, to the moderator: thanks for posting my comments. The discussion has been profitable, and I take it that Thomas and StephenB would agree. Please note that I am mirroring my own contributions on my blog, Quintessence of Dust, and will continue to do that, at least so that others can participate in the conversation. (I don't moderate comments.) In answering both Thomas and StephenB, this post got pretty long, and I would understand if you asked us to move it elsewhere. Just let me know.

To Thomas @61:

I do think that your statements appear to bracket God's power, but you didn't mean to say that, and I think I see why we're struggling to understand each other here. You discuss "pure Darwinism" and "strict Darwinism" and "the naked Darwinian mechanism." Here you are referring, I gather, to random mutation and natural selection with a further stipulation: that no divine guidance of any kind is involved. (We could substitute 'design' or 'teleology' here and my point would be the same.) And you are, I think, correct in identifying that -ism with Mr. Darwin, as Prof. Hodge so ably demonstrated. Hodge was right: "Darwinism," so defined, is atheism. This may mean that I'm not a Darwinist, but a Grayist. (I would be most pleased to bear that name if I thought anyone else would get the allusion.) The point, though, is this: your criticism of Christians who embrace "Darwinism" only makes sense if those Christians embraced the Darwinism that Hodge railed against, which he correctly identified as atheism. And that means your criticism reduces to this: Christians shouldn't be atheists. I'm struggling to understand why you think so many Christians are that stupid, which we'd have to be in order to embrace the "Darwinism" that you condemn. With all due respect, you should reconsider a line of argument that can only imply abject stupidity (or perhaps evil) on the part of the Christians that you name. For my part as a Christian evolutionist, I'll gladly make the statement you call for: Darwin was indeed "partly wrong" about the "mechanism of evolution," because he insisted on ateleology, with neither scientific nor metaphysical justification. Trivial.

So, Thomas, I'm not at all sure who these Christian TEs are who embrace atheistic Darwinism. I'm pretty sure they don't exist. In any case, I'm not one of them, and my intention here at UD is to speak only for myself.

With the understanding that I do not seek to speak for others, I will say that I reject your accusation against three of the four Christian scholars you singled out. Francis Collins contradicts you on page 205 of The Language of God; Ken Miller in chapter 8 of Finding Darwin's God, and especially on pp. 238-9; Denis Lamoureux refers explicitly to evolution as a "teleological natural process ordained by God." I don't know Ayala's work on this subject well enough to know where he stands, but I very much doubt that you have gotten him right. Perhaps I have misunderstood you again, but whether you retract your accusations or not, I can't currently take them seriously.

My point about atheists was meant only to note that the viciousness of the rhetoric on UD constitutes a major deterrent to me with regard to your movement. I would not count myself among Christians who engage in such practices. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't have lunch with you. I'll even buy.

Finally, thanks for making me feel welcome as a "friendly critic." I don't buy your martyr case, and I'm mostly amused by the apocalyptic martial prose, but I also don't doubt that people have been treated unfairly. More importantly, I won't call you a bad scientist or a bad theologian for thinking about design. I may, on the other hand, point to bad science or bad theology (mostly bad science) done in the name of ID, and you and your friends are going to have to do a better job of distinguishing criticism of your ideas (some of which are spectacularly bad) from diabolical attempts to destroy you and anyone who looks like you. (Bill Dembski botched this badly in his fatwa-like rant from two weeks ago; read it carefully and see if you can understand my disgust.)

To StephenB @62:

I'm not sure what to do with most of your comments, except to thank your for taking the time to lay out your thoughts and to do it with a measure of respect. Just a few responses, then I'll answer your question at the end.

1. I do not belong to any particular school regarding God's work in the world. Kenosis is interesting -- that's all I said. Your thoughts parallel mine for the most part. I wouldn't go as far as to say that Psalm 19 and Romans 1 imply that "design in nature is detectable," but that might be because I'm suspicious of the word "design" here. I suspect that your claim regarding those scriptural passages is indicative of some very significant differences in outlook between you and I.

2. Your rebuttals of Stephen Barr are interesting and informed, but my purpose in citing his piece was to highlight Aquinas' very clear pronouncements regarding "chance" and providence. That was all.

3. You write: "God CAN use random events. The problem is, however, TEs insist that God does EVERYTHING that way." Well, StephenB, obviously I'm not a TE. I'm not sure there's any such thing as a Christian TE, by your reckoning, and I'm not sure there's anything more for us to discuss on this particular topic.

4. You asked about the various phenomena I listed as examples of scientific explanations that invoke randomness. Here's a brief overview.

a. Axonal pruning is widespread during vertebrate brain development, and is preceded by the overgrowth of axonal projections into a target field. These projections are guided by various mechanisms into that target field, but once there they find themselves in competition with an excess of other axons. These so-called exuberant axonal projections are postulated to fill the target field randomly, meaning that they display no discernible pattern. Pruning (also termed selection for obvious reasons) occurs following competition, which usually involves electrical activity of the axons. Analagous processes are involved in the elimination of excess synapses, and even excess neurons.

b. Mammalian females have 2 X chromosomes, while males have only one. Since gene dosage seems to be adjusted such that one X chromosome is enough for any given cell (which makes sense given that male cells have only one to start with), one of the two X chromosomes in every cell in a female's body is inactivated. (This occurs during early development, and results in the organism becoming a chimera of areas that express the maternal X chromosome and areas that express the paternal version.) Because the exact chromosome that will be chosen in any given cell cannot be predicted, the process is referred to as "random." Evidence in favor of this view comes from the examination of coat color in cats and mice.

c. Erosion...the Grand Canyon...think fractals. And meteorites...if I say that meteorites are falling "randomly" onto the earth's surface, would you think I was making an atheistic metaphysical claim? Or would you understand me to be saying that there seems to be no discernible pattern?

d. Random (meaning unbiased) fertilization is the basis of Mendelian genetic analysis. If I ask you about the probability of your getting cystic fibrosis based on your parents' known status as carriers, I'm assuming random fertilization. And when geneticists see non-Mendelian inheritance patterns, they don't think "design."

e. The genes that encode antibodies (in mammals, at least) are generated by a frenzy of genetic shuffling during embryonic development. The shuffling involves some non-random processes combined with an error-prone process that randomly generates vast combinations of antibody structures.

Apparently random processes are ubiquitous in biological systems, especially during development, and I'm a developmental biologist. Is it clear why I'm completely turned off by all the nonsense about random vs. God's work?

Day 2 on Uncommon Descent: waiting for the axe to fall

My comment on Uncommon Descent yielded a single response, from one StephenB, who had two things to say. He was curious about my side note regarding "some pretty clear statements about chance and God's providence in Scripture" and then he reiterated what we all know very well: that he and other ID proponents see "Darwinian evolution" as a "an unintended, unconscious, chance process with no plan."

He left without comment my reasons for avoiding contact with his movement. I guess I was not misunderstood, which is good.

Here's my comment in response. Feel free to lay odds on its inclusion at UD.

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To StephenB @57:
Thanks for the response. It seems there are just two issues to tackle here.

1. You asked about my view of chance in Scripture. I note that God's people commonly used the casting of lots to make decisions (choosing the scapegoat, selecting Judas' replacement, choosing Saul as king) and Proverbs 16:33 seems pretty clear to me: "The lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord." My claim is not that "design by chance is a Scriptural concept." My claim is much more basic: the notion that "random" processes, including Darwinian evolution, are "out of God's control" is indefensible. Thomas Aquinas, I gather, would agree.

StephenB, I can't even imagine why a Christian would want to make that assertion about God's action in the world, even if that person had never read about the deliberate use of random devices in the Bible and God's claim to control those devices. A Christian who talks like that is one who views God and the world very differently than I do.

2. The rest of your response, it seems to me, can be summarized in this phrase: "The problem is that some want to impose on God a Darwinian process, which is, by definition, a non-control process, and then try to make it fit in with a picture of God under control." As I noted in my first comment, this claim (that Darwinian evolution is necessarily a "non-control" process) is nonsense. The best you can do is label it true "by definition" and then haul out quote-mined proof texts from confused atheists. (I'm not saying that you've quote-mined; I'm only saying that the only support such an assertion can possibly muster is the existence of those who agree.) What you most certainly cannot (honestly) do is demonstrate that God does not (or cannot) work through events or processes that we label "random."

Now again, let me point to the common ground here. Neither of us believes that the marvels of creation came about by "accident" or through a process that God "can't control." I'm pretty flexible on questions of what God knows and when, and I'm interested in kenosis and other models of God's interaction with creation that make room for creaturely freedom. But like you, I reject the notion that creation unfolds outside of God's control. And that means that some of what your movement claims to value is also valuable to me.

But one last thing. Do you feel compelled to reject and/or oppose scientific models of axonal pruning or synapse elimination or X chromosome inactivation or erosion or fertilization or meteorite impacts or generation of antibodies that invoke the concept of randomness? Can you see why I (as a developmental biologist) would hesitate to follow you down this road?

Weekly sampler 17

It'll be a breakout week after a slow month on the blog. To the Edge of Evolution – and beyond!

1. Ian Musgrave over at Panda's Thumb provides a nice summary of the evolution of clotting systems and some new genomic data that could be used, by ID proponents like Michael Behe, to bolster their claims regarding the "irreducible complexity" of the clotting system. I've been saying it since the beginning here at QoD: genomic data has already made it nearly impossible to respectably doubt common descent, and it gets much worse every day.

2. Massimo Pigliucci gibbers on the Problem of Evil and Francisco Ayala. Not that I'm buying Ayala's theodicy either...

3. Dale Purves is an eminent neuroscientist whose work I've followed for two decades. In the last several years, he's expanded from developmental neurobiology into cognitive neuroscience. His lab's web page is loaded with good stuff, which is probably why it was recently honored by The Scientist. The resources page includes a bunch of interesting illusions and the full text of two of his out-of-print books.

Ebola virus, electron micrograph. Image from PHIL, ID# 1835.

4. The CDC (Centers for Disease Control & Prevention) has a free online image library called PHIL (Public Health Image Library). Now you know where to go to get your pictures of Ebola Virus for when you make your own Get Well Soon cards. Don't miss this little disclaimer:

WARNING: This library includes subject matter that might be unsuitable for children. Viewing discretion is advised.

Yikes!

5. Get to Gordon Glover's Beyond the Firmament blog for a superb series on "Science and Education" focused on questions surrounding natural science (mostly origins) and Christian education. He's covering folk science right now, in his excellent style. And you don't even have to pay.

6. Last week saw the unveiling of the platypus genome, and it included lots of interesting surprises. The media coverage has been typically spotty (with regard to accuracy); to get well-grounded, start with the brief piece at the New York Times then check out Ryan Gregory's thoughts (at his new blogging home) and perhaps the usual clarity dispensed by the cuddly PZ Myers.

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.

Weekly Sampler 3

Junk DNA is still a-happening. Ryan Gregory's blog Genomicron is the place to learn about it. He's especially adept at driving trucks through the gaps in ID claims about non-coding DNA. My gestating posts on the subject [sigh] will focus more on Reasons To Believe. Watch for a quote from Obi-Wan!

So here are some things I've been munching on this week.

1. I'm not that crazy about Cell Press, at least since they sold out to Elsevier, but they do give some stuff away (e.g. a "Featured Article" is free in each issue), and Neuron is still the best neuro journal. Now they're providing a very nice free resource called Evaluating Techniques in Biomedical Research. Some of the chapters cover techniques that I use regularly in my own research (fluorescence microscopy, RNA interference) and some cover procedures I intend to learn soon (FRET). And there's a chapter on biostatistics, which no one seems to know anything about.

2. So how exactly does one go about discussing the misuse of science by Christians, especially when the discussion is among Christians? I've been worrying about this lately, and it will soon be clear why. If you're similarly nervous (and/or frustrated) about this, check out the healthy discussion of this issue on the ASA listserv, looking for the thread called "Sins of pseudoscience" (and others).

3. My colleague Dan Harlow (Calvin College Religion Department) has an important new paper in the new issue (Winter 2008) of Christian Scholar's Review, called "Creation According to Genesis: Literary Genre, Cultural Context, Theological Truth." It's based on a paper he gave in the Origins Symposium here at Calvin in 2006, where I met Todd Wood, and it should be worth your trouble to get a copy. (Contact me if you need a hand.)

4. Want your genome sequenced? Your dog's genome? The genome of whatever it is that's growing on the leftover Thai food in the back of the fridge? The company is Helicos Biosciences and they're developing technology that will sequence a genome in 10 days for $1000. Hey...I have four kids...I'll get at least that much from Uncle Sam in a few months...

5. Well, speaking of peer review...Answers in Genesis has started a new peer-reviewed online journal. The news blurb in Nature has a good quote from Keith Miller. I'll be watching.

6. Tara Smith's blog Aetiology is amazing. Current series: "Did Yersinia pestis really cause Black Plague?" Shelley Batts at Retrospectacle also celebrated a "Plague week." Did I miss something on the calendar?

7. Michael Behe's case in The Edge of Evolution relies heavily on estimates of mutation rates. Last August an article in Science reported that adaptive (i.e., beneficial) mutation rates in bacteria have been spectacularly underestimated. The Science paper explains why this is so, providing both a vastly different estimate of the adaptive mutation rate and an explanation for why previous studies got it wrong. You'd think that Behe would provide a thorough response. Silly you!

8. I note that Alvin Plantinga was the 2007 speaker in this series. I'll listen and comment sometime; anyone else?

Evolution + Christianity + Integrity = "The New Theology"?

A long and fascinating piece in Sunday's Chicago Tribune Magazine ("The New Theology" by Jeremy Manier) explores some interesting results of the collision of faith and evolution in the lives of some famous people. The article prominently features Howard Van Till, a Calvin College emeritus and one of the reasons why Calvin is safe for evolutionary creationists like me. I think Howard's story is a sad one, partly because he seems to have abandoned Christianity, but mostly because his mistreatment is a scandalous disgrace to the Christian community of which I am now a part. Despite my discouragement at his rejection of Reformed Christianity, I consider him one of my heroes, and have already quoted at length from his work. He's the keynote speaker at this year's Grand Dialogue (annual science-faith conference here in Grand Rapids), and I am eager to hear from him anew.

Anyway, have a look at the article, and let me know what you think.

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.