Contemporary Science and Religion Discussion -- Transforming Theology Project
The Contemporary Science and Religion Discussion:
New Adventures for Theology,
or a Futile Quest for Legitimation?
New Adventures for Theology,
or a Futile Quest for Legitimation?
In this continuing conversation about the transformation of theology, we reach the end of chapter 3 of Philip Clayton’s Adventures in the Spirit (Fortress, 2008). To this point we’ve been wrestling with the ways in which theology can have fruitful conversations with such partners as science, philosophy, and other religions. As we come to this concluding methodological section, the focus turns directly to science, which is the strongest challenger to not only religion but Christian theology specifically.
It is possible, of course, for religion to remain a relatively private enterprise, having little or no contact with the public sphere. In that case it need not directly interact with science or philosophy. It can declare that the Bible and the Bible alone is sufficient, and that whatever appears to contradict its statements (especially if one is needing to take it literally at all points), but then the question is: of what earthly good would it be?
Philip Clayton, whose book continually pushes me to the edges of my own understandings and beyond, wants us to move beyond a privatistic understanding of faith. Although I’m one who has great respect for Karl Barth, whose theology of Scripture was so helpful in bringing me past my own need for literalism, I realize that his rejection of points of contact with modernity can lead to a fideism that may prevent fruitful conversations with the broader human community. In contrast to Barth’s desire to keep theological discussion in-house, Clayton is suggesting we venture outside the church walls and embrace a critical faith, one that is willing and able to risk going into the public sphere and dialoguing with such entities as science and philosophy.
In this chapter the author proposes that we engage in “stage three discourse.” Such a discourse aims for “maximum traction between the two fields” (p. 52). Not that we seek to identify one with the other, but if I hear him right, he’s proposing that we move beyond simply suggesting that theology and science are talking from different perspectives, to a point where each is able to walk in the other’s shoes.
If we’re being called to “stage-three” discourse, then what are the first two stages? Stage one is a simple conversation taking place between the methods and the theories of the two activities. It is a resistance to the idea that science and religion are at war, and thus able to sit at table with each other. Stage two takes this a step further, so that each side commits itself to withdraw any assertions that are “counter-indicated by the evidence.” That is, if something is falsified, then I will withdraw that assertion (pp. 54-55).
Stage three takes this another step. It seeks out those contexts where we can have the most traction between science and theology. We’ll let go of pre-commitments and follow the evidence where it leads us. This is an effort that requires full investment and willingness to seek out partners who will challenge us (pp. 56-57). What is the effect on religion?
We have to be willing to live with great amounts of uncertainty and be open to change. We have to risk our faith in the search for faith. As I noted in an earlier post, Clayton follows Paul Tillich in defining faith as encompassing doubt. Of course that puts great stress on religious communities, who define themselves by what they believe and practice. It’s not an easy place to be, but again, what possibilities does it offer us as we live in this post-Enlightenment era?
Clayton’s purpose is to move us beyond seeing religion as simply another “lifestyle choice,” a choice that prevents any real truth claims. But to do this we must again take the risk of having an open-ended conversation with science. What is interesting is that Clayton believes that many of the questions that arise about the limits of science don’t emerge from religious experience, but from science itself – which experiences “metaphysical discomfort” (p. 61).
The antidote to this “metaphysical discomfort” is a new kind of metaphysic or theology:
With this we prepare to venture into the next stage of the conversation, with the expectation that this adventure isn't merely a futile search for legitimation!
It is possible, of course, for religion to remain a relatively private enterprise, having little or no contact with the public sphere. In that case it need not directly interact with science or philosophy. It can declare that the Bible and the Bible alone is sufficient, and that whatever appears to contradict its statements (especially if one is needing to take it literally at all points), but then the question is: of what earthly good would it be?
Philip Clayton, whose book continually pushes me to the edges of my own understandings and beyond, wants us to move beyond a privatistic understanding of faith. Although I’m one who has great respect for Karl Barth, whose theology of Scripture was so helpful in bringing me past my own need for literalism, I realize that his rejection of points of contact with modernity can lead to a fideism that may prevent fruitful conversations with the broader human community. In contrast to Barth’s desire to keep theological discussion in-house, Clayton is suggesting we venture outside the church walls and embrace a critical faith, one that is willing and able to risk going into the public sphere and dialoguing with such entities as science and philosophy.
In this chapter the author proposes that we engage in “stage three discourse.” Such a discourse aims for “maximum traction between the two fields” (p. 52). Not that we seek to identify one with the other, but if I hear him right, he’s proposing that we move beyond simply suggesting that theology and science are talking from different perspectives, to a point where each is able to walk in the other’s shoes.
If we’re being called to “stage-three” discourse, then what are the first two stages? Stage one is a simple conversation taking place between the methods and the theories of the two activities. It is a resistance to the idea that science and religion are at war, and thus able to sit at table with each other. Stage two takes this a step further, so that each side commits itself to withdraw any assertions that are “counter-indicated by the evidence.” That is, if something is falsified, then I will withdraw that assertion (pp. 54-55).
Stage three takes this another step. It seeks out those contexts where we can have the most traction between science and theology. We’ll let go of pre-commitments and follow the evidence where it leads us. This is an effort that requires full investment and willingness to seek out partners who will challenge us (pp. 56-57). What is the effect on religion?
“At this level, one’s own self-conception as a religious thinker motivates the need for diverse groups of informed discussion partners, who alone can provide the feedback necessary to evaluate one’s own self-conception; hence one begins actively to seek out such discussion partners and to bring them into dialogue. This truly is a post-Enlightenment theology, a theology as public discourse, for here it becomes part of one’s own inner theological motivation to construct and support the communities of discourse that provide this feedback” (pp. 57).
We have to be willing to live with great amounts of uncertainty and be open to change. We have to risk our faith in the search for faith. As I noted in an earlier post, Clayton follows Paul Tillich in defining faith as encompassing doubt. Of course that puts great stress on religious communities, who define themselves by what they believe and practice. It’s not an easy place to be, but again, what possibilities does it offer us as we live in this post-Enlightenment era?
Clayton’s purpose is to move us beyond seeing religion as simply another “lifestyle choice,” a choice that prevents any real truth claims. But to do this we must again take the risk of having an open-ended conversation with science. What is interesting is that Clayton believes that many of the questions that arise about the limits of science don’t emerge from religious experience, but from science itself – which experiences “metaphysical discomfort” (p. 61).
The antidote to this “metaphysical discomfort” is a new kind of metaphysic or theology:
“The Theology (or metaphysics) that comports with science must be hypothetical, pluralistic, fluid in its use of empirical arguments, continually open to revision” (p. 61).So, are we ready to engage in a theological discussion that is open to other arguments and to revision? If we are to have a faith that is more than simply a private one, then it appears that we must do so. This is not an easy choice to make. There are significant risks – both for the person of faith and for the scientists. But, what are the other choices? So we seek a new way forward, where science and religion can find a point of traction. This isn’t, Clayton suggests a simple argument from science to God, but rather is an intentionality about keeping the conversation going for as long as possible.
With this we prepare to venture into the next stage of the conversation, with the expectation that this adventure isn't merely a futile search for legitimation!
Comments
A good scientist must also constantly replace faith with truth- based on observation. We have to risk our old truth in the search for new (truer?) truth.
I'm imagining a possible post-entertainment era, let alone post-enlightenment. Average people still know more about dancing with the stars than cosmology or particle physics.
Keep your eyes to the skies.
They will continue to surprise. Every church should have a fine telescope handy for observing (part of) the heavens, expanding the mind and for sharing the awe our very existance inspires.
David Mc