Why I think science is so awesome

How does the Bible engage the big ideas in the university

At their best universities engage with big questions. What does it mean to be human? How do we know what is true? What is real? How should we live?

I really like the new book, Biblical Critical Theory: How the Bible's Unfolding Story Makes Sense of Modern Life and Culture by Christopher Watkin.

To get the flavour of the book you can download the first few chapters for free or listen to a podcast where John Dickson interviews the author.

The book is a monumental achievement. I admire it for its scope, balance, tone, and accessibility. Its breadth and depth cover the whole Biblical narrative and significant ideas from modern Western philosophy, politics, humanities, and social sciences. This means engaging with many academic authors, concepts, and perspectives. This provides a balanced perspective that surpasses common sectarian or partisan slants, whether about theology or politics. The tone is gracious; people and ideas are critiqued with respect and without caricature. Finally, for an academic book, I find it relatively easy to read and engaging. I enjoy reading it because I learn so much. I am gaining a better understanding of the ideas and thinkers behind modernity and post-modernity while being challenged to contrast and compare them to the big theological ideas (such as creation-fall-redemption-recreation) that flow from the narrative of the Bible. Watkin's prose is winsome and occasionally light-hearted.

A central idea of the book is that most modern social theories and philosophies present false dichotomies. They are imbalanced and so do not capture all  dimensions of reality. Watkin argues that the Biblical narrative presents a balanced, more imaginative picture that affirms both polarities. He uses the term diagonalisation to describe this. It is not a matter of either-or but both-and. In different words, the Bible presents a dialectical view of reality. Diagonalisation is best illustrated by one of the many helpful diagrams in the book.

This dichotomy pits traditional societies against modern societies and communal identity against individual identity. This is then presented as a stark choice between crushing individual freedom or undermining community.

The doctrine of the Trinity removes these polarities as it affirms both individuality and community. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are three distinct persons but are also in a harmonious relationship. 

The many diagrams in the book represent that Watkin is steeped in the use of models: models for theology, models for modern thought, and diagonalisation is a model for relating theological concepts to modern thought. This is good provided that we remember the maxim, "all models are wrong, but some are useful".

Is there an essence to being human that transcends a scientific description?

There is a nice Biologos podcast about the wonderful novel Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi. In the format of a book club three women reflect on the book. Lynette Strickland recently finished a PhD in biology, Rachel Wahlberg is a neuroscience graduate student, and Christina Bieber Lake is a literature professor. Each begins by reading one of their favourite passages from the book. Their discussion increased my appreciation of the book, wanting me to read it again and I am now suggesting it be read in a couple of the book clubs that I am part of.

This podcast made me aware of where the title of the book first appears in the narrative, besides. Below the main character, Gifty, a neuroscience graduate student, reflects on her work in the lab.

“Though I had done this millions of times, it still awed me to see a brain. To know that if I could only understand this little organ inside this one tiny mouse, that understanding still wouldn't speak to the full intricacy of the comparable organ inside my own head. And yet I had to try to understand, to extrapolate from that limited understanding in order to apply it to those of us who made up the species Homo Sapiens, the most complex animal, the only animal who believed he had transcended his Kingdom, as one of my high school biology teachers used to say. That belief, that transcendence, was held within the organ itself. Infinite, unknowable, soulful, perhaps even magical. I had traded the Pentecostalism of my childhood for this new religion, this new quest, knowing that I would never fully know.”

Later Gifty reflects more about the mysteries of human consciousness and the struggle to use science to answer our deepest questions.

“a neuroscientist who has at times given herself over to equating the essence that psychologists call the mind, that Christians call the soul, with the workings of the brain. I have indeed given that organ a kind of supremacy, believing and hoping that all of the answers to all of the questions that I have can and must be contained therein. But the truth is I haven’t much changed. I still have so many of the same questions, like “Do we have control over our thoughts?,” but I am looking for a different way to answer them. I am looking for new names for old feelings. My soul is still my soul, even if I rarely call it that.”

Why choose forgiveness rather than bitterness?

My wife and I enjoyed watching the movie The Light Between Oceans

Against a backdrop of beautiful and wild scenery, it deals with deep issues about trauma, parenthood, infertility, honesty, justice, and forgiveness.

One of the most powerful and central dialogues of the film is a dialogue between a wife and her husband, Frank. The version below is taken directly from the novel on which the movie is based.

 “But how? How can you just get over these things, darling?...You've had so much strife but you're always happy. How do you do it?'

'I choose to...I can leave myself to rot in the past, spend my time hating people for what happened, like my father did, or I can forgive and forget.'

'But it's not that easy.'

He smiled that Frank smile. 'Oh, but my treasure, it is so much less exhausting. You only have to forgive once. To resent, you have to do it all day, every day. You have to keep remembering all the bad things...I would have to make a list, a very, very long list and make sure I hated the people on it the right amount. That I did a proper job of hating, too: very Teutonic! No' - his voice became sober- 'we always have a choice. All of us.”

― M. L. Stedman, The Light Between Oceans

Exclusion and Embrace by Miroslav Volf revisited

 This month's theology reading group discussed Exclusion and Embrace: A theological exploration of identity, otherness, and reconciliation by Miroslav Volf. Wikipedia has a useful brief summary of the book.

I first read the book and discussed it in a group twelve years ago and wrote several blog posts about it. I have significantly benefited from re-reading it. Late in life, I now see the immense value of re-reading excellent books, particularly dense and profound ones. Over the past decade, I have built a greater knowledge, understanding, and appreciation of theology and philosophy, and how they engage (for better or worse) with modernism and postmodernism. This has increased my enjoyment and understanding of the book.

The book is impressive for both its scope and coherence. It covers a wide range of Biblical passages, events, histories, philosophies, and theologies. Furthermore, these topics and themes are woven together in a coherent whole. By his example, Volf makes a strong case that Christian theology should be public, for the sake of pluralistic societies and for the sake of the church.

Volf makes a convincing case for the following ideas.

Conflicts, small and large, are intertwined with questions of identity and otherness.

The natural outcome of an encounter with the "other", someone with a different identity to us, is exclusion. Discrimination, violence, and genocide are manifestations of the drive to exclude the other.

The counterpoint to exclusion is embrace, even embrace of enemies. There are many complexities to working out what such an embrace looks like. This requires grappling with issues of history, memory, truth, justice, peace, and forgiveness.

Evil exists. It must be grappled with politically, philosophically, and theologically. Both modernism and postmodernism have failed in their woeful inability to seriously engage with the concept of evil.

The Cross of Christ provides the template and resources to grapple, both intellectually and practically, with why and how, we need to move from exclusion to embrace.

In spite of the claims of modernity to the contrary, discussions of truth and justice can only be and should be conducted with reference to a specific tradition. [This reiterates the perspective of Alisdair MacIntyre.] There is no "view from nowhere", i.e, a perspective that is completely objective.

To grapple with conflicting identities, traditions, and perspectives we need to  practice "double vision" [taken from Thomas Nagel] whereby I acknowledge I have "the view from here" and work hard to engage with "the view from there". In different words, I endeavour to put myself in the shoes of the "other", even when I consider them morally repugnant or intellectually flawed.

For a Christian, nonviolence is the way to work towards peace. This is rooted in both the Cross, the Ressurection, and the hope of the Final Judgement. Evil not only exists but it will be punished, and in a just way. But, fallible humans are prone to deception and revenge. And so, that final judgement must rest with God, as Jesus embodied and Paul taught.