Finding order in the chaos of life

Life in this world often seems to be chaotic. Think of your experience of the weather, the economy, politics, and human relationships. It is hard to predict what will happen next. We yearn for order and sometimes seem to be able to create little oases of it, only to see them slip from our grasp. Sometimes things even seem to make sense; much of the time they don't. 

On the other hand, some claim there is a grand plan for the universe and it is all pre-determined. We just follow our destiny.

What is the relationship between order and chaos? Is the universe random or deterministic? Scientists have wrestled with these questions for centuries. How might different scientific views related to how the Bible addresses (or not) these questions?

I have enjoyed re-reading,  Let There Be Science: Why God Loves Science, and Science Needs God, by David Hutchings and Tom McLeish. This week we are discussing it in the theology reading group.  I think that this is the best introductory book I have encountered about the relationship between theology and science.

The questions above are nicely discussed in Chapter 6, entitled Order from Chaos. Here are some highlights.

chaotic systems are both predictable and random (p. 115)

The probabilistic approach shows us that order really can emerge from disorder (p. 118)

Theoretically predictable systems (can) collapse into randomness. Theoretically random systems coalesce into predictability. 

Is the future knowable, or not? It seems that science gives a rather unscientific answer: “sort of”. (p. 119)

Some related issues are discussed in posts I wrote a while back. 

The collective activity of many randomly moving actors can be effectively predictable, even if individual motions are not.

Random dynamics at one level can lead to deterministic dynamics at a higher level, and visa versa.

True randomness requires design. This is illustrated by the fact that it is very hard to make random number generators that are truly random.

Job struggled with the chaos of life. He lived a morally ordered life, yet he experienced chaos, reflected in his great suffering. He ranted at God.

Even if I summoned him and he responded, 

I do not believe he would give me a hearing. 

He would crush me with a storm and multiply my wounds for no reason. 

Job 9:16-17

In a development that is both surprising and entirely fitting, God does indeed respond to Job, speaking to him and his four counsellors from within a storm. This is our first clue that there may be far more to the apparent randomness of nature than Job had brought to his argument. (p. 122)

Job is being invited into a new way of thinking. God will push him to examine things afresh. Could it be that randomness and overall divine care can walk hand in hand somehow? (p. 122) 

God goes on to take full responsibility for the processes Job has raged about, but he suggests that Job has misunderstood the situation badly: 

Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail, which I reserve for times of trouble, for days of war and battle?  

What is the way to the place where the lightning is dispersed, or the place where the east winds are scattered over the earth? 

Who cuts a channel for the torrents of rain, and a path for the thunderstorm, to water a land where no one lives, an uninhabited desert, to satisfy a desolate wasteland and make it sprout with grass?

                     Job 38:22-27 

Here, God turns Job’s argument on its head. These events do not show a lack of control; they are actually how God brings about his plans. Job has seen them as individual, one-off uncertainties. He has seen them as uncontrolled events which terrorize mankind. God, though, is saying that they are not isolated instances at all; he is painting a bigger picture. The apparent randomness on the smaller scale is combining to form the order which emerges for creation as a whole. Job’s field of vision is far too narrow. God is telling him to widen it. (p. 123)

The authors then allude to some of the scientific research that McLeish has been involved in.

The mystery was solved when it was realized that billions of bumbling peptides had managed to glue themselves together into tapes. Their rapid, erratic motion was crucial to this: only by crashing around haphazardly would they eventually build up any kind of emergent structure. 

 The result of all this “randomness” is the formation of cell walls, the maintenance of correct chemical concentrations, overwhelming victories for the immune system and more. It is from within all the chaos that overall order is formed – and life exists.  

This video illustrates this with a computer simulation of an HIV virus capsid being surrounding by a drug, taken from this paper.

Modern scientists have learned that randomness and predictability are two sides of the same coin. (p. 124-5)

If our world was entirely random or entirely predictable, life as we know it would not be possible, and we could have no hope of any meaningful interaction with either nature or its Creator. 

We are told in the Bible that God has made it neither of these: he is found in both the chaos of the storm and the certainty of his love. (p. 125)

Creative influence

 How do you influence people to take seriously and engage with an important issue in society? My natural tendency would be to document the problem with statistics, background, context, analysis and concrete suggestions to address the problem. In that sense, I am a technocrat. A Presbyterian once joked with me: if Presbyterians had heard Jesus tell the Parable of the Good Samaritan, that would have formed a committee to prepare a report about the problem of violent crime on the Jericho road!

There are alternative approaches to social and political critique. They are creative and indirect. A classic example is the novel, Animal Farm, by George Orwell. I recently read it for the first time, prompted by my daughter who had just read it for a book club. It is a classic work of satire. The book is only one hundred pages, easy to read, funny, subtle, imaginative, and pointed. It is a satire of the Soviet Union under Stalin. Violent and sudden political revolutions may begin with noble values of justice, truth, equality, and camaraderie. However, power corrupts and revolutionary governments can quickly degenerate into totalitarianism, the cult of personality, corruption, propaganda, violence, deception, revisionist history, and inequality. Truth suffers and the oppressed can't face the pain of questioning the deceptions and the failure of the revolution. Power is maintained by creating "the other", constructed enemies within and without, who allegedly threaten the revolution. This justifies the violent suppression of dissent.

Sadly, the Soviet Union was not a unique case. The same pattern of degeneration has happened in Nicaragua, Venezuela, Cambodia, ...

Orwell had political concerns, being opposed to tyranny of all forms, both from the left and the right. After fighting on the republican (socialist) side in the Spanish civil war, he witnessed firsthand the ruthless purges of his comrades by Stalinists. This partially motivated the writing of Animal Farm. He was concerned about the uncritical support of the Soviet Union, by both the left, and by the right. The latter saw it necessary in order to win World War II. Orwell's earlier writing had been more direct, such as in Homage to Catalonia, a chronicle of his experiences in the Spanish civil war. But, Animal Farm had a far greater impact, particularly in the long term. A new edition is about to be issued, with a new introduction, by Jason Cowley, Editor of The New Statesman. This gives nice background to the novel and its enduring influence.

I also recommend an Econtalk podcast, from 2009, featuring Christopher Hitchens, author of Why Orwell Matters. One of many items of interest in the podcast is the discussion of the review written in 1944 by Orwell of The Road to Serfdom by F.A. Hayek.

Generally, I am not a fan of Hitchens as he was one of the champions of The New Atheism. I consider that their critiques of Christianity are largely ill-informed and superficial. Terry Eagleton has presented robust critiques of him and Dawkins. However, this podcast gave me a greater appreciation of Orwell and how Hitchens did justifiably become well known for some of his essays and biographies.

Orwell's strategy of influence reminds me of the examples of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. C.S. Lewis started out doing traditional apologetics: giving rational arguments for the validity of Christianity. Later, he took a creative approach, aiming to capture people's imagination through his fictional work, such as The Chronicles of Narnia.

An integrated perspective on life

Yesterday was a public holiday, known as Australia Day. January 26 marks the arrival of British settlers in 1788. It has been suggested that the day should be called Invasion Day. Since the British settlement, the indigenous people have suffered immensely from numerous atrocities. Unfortunately, much suffering continues today. With regard to health, poverty, education, substance abuse, incarceration, and discrimination, there are massive gaps between the indigenous and non-indigenous populations. For Christians, this suffering presents a significant challenge. We are to pursue reconciliation, justice, and mercy.

On the eve of January 26, my family attended an excellent (virtual) event, #ChangeTheHeart, organised by Common Grace. You can watch it here.

I want to note something that I found striking: the integrated perspective about life held by indigenous communities. My new awareness reflects (ashamedly) my ignorance. Different cultures have different values, traditions, and ways of thinking and doing. It is fascinating and helpful to have the privilege of having a window into other cultures. It can make us more self-aware of our own culture, including our own biases, prejudices, and assumptions. For those who follow Jesus, this is particularly important because the Kingdom of God transcends all cultures. Unfortunately, Christian institutions and individuals (including me) have a very checkered history of conflating their own culture with Christianity.

Over more than 65,000 years Aboriginal people developed a strong affinity for the land, sensitivity to the rhythms of nature, and a strong sense of history, extended family, community, and spirituality. In almost every sense these orientations go against the values of modern Western society which is oriented around capitalism, individualism, the future, rationalism, technology, and secularism.

Indigenous communities have an integrated view of life, that developed over hundreds of generations. They do not separate economics, politics, ethics, law, community, and the environment. This holistic perspective is something that the Western world is very slowly coming to awareness of. One concrete example is the push for ESG investing, where investments are not made solely on the basis of profit but bring Environmental, Social, and corporate Governance criteria into investment decisions. The covid-19 pandemic has accentuated a general awareness of the interconnectedness of things, such as public health, the economy, government, business, and education. Most essential workers are paid minimum wages! We are not completely isolated independent autonomous individuals who determine our own destiny. Our well being is very dependent on that of others.

I look forward to learning more and hope and pray that Australia will seek reconciliation with and justice for the original custodians of the land that we now call Australia.

The tragedy of family and economic failure

Why do some people end up poor and broken while others are prosperous and flourish? No doubt, family of origin and local economic circumstances each play a large role. The relative importance of these different factors is contentious and is often at the heart of (often divisive) political debates.

This debate was promoted in the USA by the book, Hillbilly Elegy, by J.D. Vance, published five years ago. Four years ago I blogged about the political issues raised by the book.

I recently watched the movie version of the book.

The main value of the movie is that it allows one to feel more directly the pain and tragedy of growing up in a family that is rife with violence, verbal abuse, conflict, poverty, substance abuse, hopelessness, and a deficit of accountability, affirmation, and opportunity. In spite of the dysfunction, there is still love and hope, particularly embodied in Vance's grandmother and the tenderness and mutual support in J.D.'s relationship with his sister.

It is probably unrealistic to hope that such a movie can capture some of the discussion of economic and political contexts and issues discussed in the book. Time magazine has a helpful article, putting the movie in context.

The offence and challenge to Christian's of a simple life-style.

 Last Christmas, I read a biography, Basic Christian: The Inside Story of John Stott, by Roger Steer. I found it helpful, encouraging and challenging. Stott was someone who loved Jesus, loved the Bible, was a humble leader of integrity, and had a particular concern for the Majority World.

One small piece that stood out is the paragraph below concerning the 1974 Lausanne Congress on World Evangelisation. The meeting issued a Covenant, which was largely written by John Stott. An excellent exposition of the Covenant is in a book by Stott, and subsequently updated by Chris Wright, Christian Mission in the Modern World.

The Covenant covers 15 topics with a paragraph on each. There is much that the 2,300 leaders from 150 countries could have disagreed about. However, the most contentious sentence was the following.

Those of us who live in affluent circumstances accept our duty to develop a simple life-style in order to contribute more generously to both relief and evangelism.

This led to a consultation in 1980 which produced a detailed paper, some of which is here.

How do we read these Old Testament stories?

 Lately, in my daily Bible reading, I have been using The Message, a translation of the Bible in contemporary language by Eugene Peterson. I like it because it sometimes expresses familiar passages in new ways that make me think.

One bonus in the "Readers Edition" that I have, kindly given to me by my wonderful wife, is that at the beginning of each Bible book there is a short introduction by Peterson. Here is some of his Introduction to 1 & 2 Samuel.

Four lives dominate the two-volume narrative ... Hannah, Samuel, Saul, and David. ... These four lives become seminal for us at the moment we realize that our ego-bound experience is too small a context in which to understand and experience what it means to believe in God and follow his ways. For these are large lives—large because they live in the largeness of God. Not one of them can be accounted for in terms of cultural conditions or psychological dynamics; God is the country in which they live. 

Most of us need to be reminded that these stories are not exemplary in the sense that we stand back and admire them, like statues in a gallery, knowing all the while that we will never be able to live either that gloriously or tragically ourselves. Rather they are immersions into the actual business of living itself: this is what it means to be human. Reading and praying our way through these pages, we get it; gradually but most emphatically we recognize that what it means to be a woman, a man, mostly has to do with God. These four stories do not show us how we should live but how in fact we do live, authenticating the reality of our daily experience as the stuff that God uses to work out his purposes of salvation in us and in the world. 

One of many welcome consequences in learning to “read” our lives in the lives of Hannah, Samuel, Saul, and David is a sense of affirmation and freedom: we don’t have to fit into prefabricated moral or mental or religious boxes before we are admitted into the company of God—we are taken seriously just as we are and given a place in his story, for it is, after all, his story; none of us is the leading character in the story of our life. 

 For the biblical way is not so much to present us with a moral code and tell us “Live up to this”; nor is it to set out a system of doctrine and say, “Think like this and you will live well.” The biblical way is to tell a story and invite us, “Live into this. This is what it looks like to be human; this is what is involved in entering and maturing as human beings.” We do violence to the biblical revelation when we “use” it for what we can get out of it or what we think will provide color and spice to our otherwise bland lives. That results in a kind of “boutique spirituality”—God as decoration, God as enhancement. The Samuel narrative will not allow that. In the reading, as we submit our lives to what we read, we find that we are not being led to see God in our stories but to see our stories in God’s. God is the larger context and plot in which our stories find themselves.

[The complete text of this introduction is here.]

Where to from here? How should the West respond to its Christian heritage?

 Dominion: The Making of the Western Mind by Tom Holland is an amazing read. In just over 500 (!) pages he presents a compelling story of the interplay of Christian theology, church history, and the intellectual and political history of the Western world. 

This month in the theology reading group, we are discussing the third and final section, Modernitas, which covers 1645 to the present. The scope is amazing. The cast of characters includes Oliver Cromwell, Baruch Spinoza, Benjamin Lay, Voltaire, Marquis de Sade, Charles Darwin, Thomas Huxley, Karl Marx, Andrew Carnegie, Friedrich Nietzsche, J.R.R. Tolkien, the Beatles, Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King Jr., ... The issues and topics discussed include the abolition of slavery, evolution, human rights, capitalism, communism, democracy, war, sexual morality, secularism, homosexuality, and the #MeToo movement.

A helpful summary of the main point of the book is at the end.

 If secular humanism derives not from reason or from science, but from the distinctive course of Christianity’s evolution – a course that, in the opinion of growing numbers in Europe and America, has left God dead—then how are its values anything more than the shadow of a corpse? What are the foundations of its morality, if not a myth? 

A myth, though, is not a lie. At its most profound—as Tolkien, that devout Catholic, always argued—a myth can be true. To be a Christian is to believe that God became man and suffered a death as terrible as any mortal has ever suffered. This is why the cross, that ancient implement of torture, remains what it has always been: the fitting symbol of the Christian revolution. It is the audacity of it – the audacity of finding in a twisted and defeated corpse the glory of the creator of the universe—that serves to explain, more surely than anything else, the sheer strangeness of Christianity, and of the civilisation to which it gave birth. 

Today, the power of this strangeness remains as alive as it has ever been. It is manifest in the great surge of conversions that has swept Africa and Asia over the past century; in the conviction of millions upon millions that the breath of the Spirit, like a living fire, still blows upon the world; and, in Europe and North America, in the assumptions of many more millions who would never think to describe themselves as Christian. All are heirs to the same revolution: a revolution that has, at its molten heart, the image of a god dead on a cross.

(p.524-5, Abacus 2020 paperback edition).

A specific example of the type of argument Holland makes (and his beautiful prose) is the following. Even Marxism is deeply indebted to Christian theology.

 Marx’s interpretation of the world appeared fuelled by certainties that had no obvious source in his model of economics. They rose instead from profounder depths. Again and again, the magma flow of his indignation would force itself through the crust of his scientific-sounding prose. For a self-professed materialist, he was oddly prone to seeing the world as the Church Fathers had once done: as a battleground between cosmic forces of good and evil. 

Communism was a ‘spectre’: a thing of awful and potent spirit. Just as demons had once haunted Origen, so the workings of capitalism haunted Marx. ‘Capital is dead labour which, vampire-like, lives only by sucking living labour, and lives the more, the more labour it sucks.’ This was hardly the language of a man emancipated from epiphenomena. The very words used by Marx to construct his model of class struggle—‘exploitation’, ‘enslavement’, ‘avarice’—owed to the chill formulations of economists than to something far older: the claims to divine inspiration of the biblical prophets. If, as he insisted, he offered his followers a liberation from Christianity, then it was one that seemed eerily like a recalibration of it. (pp. 441).

So what? What might be appropriate responses to this book? It is receiving considerable attention from those with a wide range of perspectives, both Christian and not. There seems little argument about whether the book is historically accurate. The debate is more about the implications for life today. Here is a caricature of two responses, briefly alluded to by Ross Douthat in a column in the New York Times a year ago.

An atheist who identifies with the secular political left may concede the Christian origins of many issues that are central to their vision for society: economic justice, human rights, equality,... However, they may say that we can take these good things and we can dispense with all the theology and Christian institutions. They are outdated, unscientific, superstitious, have served their usefulness, and on balance have been instruments of oppression.

A Christian who identifies with the political right will be proud of this heritage and argue that unless Western society returns to these origins, and institutionalises them in terms of law and education we are doomed to societal chaos.

I find both problematic and actually dangerous. Both seem to assume that all you need to do is legislate and institutionalise morality and values. Both may have a strain of self-righteousness. It is just different sins that they focus on.

As much as I love the book, Tom Holland presents a "secular" history of the human dimension to Christianity, which is almost one-dimensional. On one level this is fair enough as it is where his expertise lays and is the ground rules for public intellectual discourse.

There are some more fundamental questions that need to be addressed.

Holland highlights some aspects of the Western world that are distinctly "Christian" But, what about the many aspects that are not, such as individualism, consumerism, neoliberalism, ...?

Is there a role for the divine? Is there something amazing and powerful and transcendent also going on in all this history? Who was Jesus? Was he more than a profound teacher who died a brutal death? Did he actually rise from the dead? Jesus' death on the cross was certainly a powerful, counter-cultural, and inspiring symbol of suffering. But did it actually bring into being a new spiritual reality and achieve a real reconciliation with God (i.e. atonement)? Were Christians who changed their worlds able to do that just because they were inspired by radical ideas (power through weakness, the last will be first, the dignity of all humans, ...), or were they actually tapping into a powerful spiritual force that not just transformed them but also those they interacted with? Is the positive influence of Christian ideas and values on Western society an example of common grace?

In different words, what actually is authentic Christianity? Is it true? Is it real?

Has the modern church lost the radical and counter-cultural edge of the teachings of Jesus and Paul?

The book highlights the necessity of the western world to grapple with such questions in a humble, honest, and open manner. If Christianity shaped our past and present, how should it shape our future?