On science and religion
Two of the most profound, life-altering - one could even say "spiritual" - experiences of my life occurred to me long before Judaism - at a time in my life when I was very much an atheist and an antitheist.
The first happened on the first day of my College Algebra course. Professor C. stood at the front of the room and explained how the Cartesian plane describes 3-dimensional space. As I wrapped my mind around the z axis, a connection was made. I understood that the world was described in the language of mathematics - that these equations were not merely mind-games, but the structure of the universe. The universe had laws, order, logic, and structure.
The second occurred as a result of the first. After I understood that mathematics described the workings of the Universe, I was obsessed. I was already bored with this College Algebra - I wanted to know Calculus, physics, and so much more! I'm not sure when or why in my pursuit of knowledge I decided to pick up a copy of Einstein's Relativity: The Special and the General Theory. In retrospect, it doesn't seem to really relate to the material I was studying, however, at that time M Theory had also caught my fancy, and that probably led more directly to my curiosity about Einsteinian gravity.
I can't say that I understood the entirety of the book. Einstein made reference to a few formulae that I had not been taught. But as soon as I began to read his thought experiments, I saw something familiar - the Cartesian plane. The way that Einstein described motion in 3-dimensional space, particularly motion among bodies relative to one another - it made perfect sense. The glimpse of light that I had caught earlier in that Algebra course expanded - the universe was illuminated as a thing of profound beauty. Physical reality took on entirely new meanings. Physical reality was more astounding, more complex, and more breathtakingly beautiful than I had ever imagined.
It was also my first glimpse of mathematical beauty. I had heard that equations could be beautiful or ugly, but I did not understand how this worked. On finally understanding E=mc^2, I knew. This simple string of 3 variables is one of the most strikingly beautiful things in the universe. Before you ask the question of how an equation can be beautiful, I'll go ahead and let you know that I can't explain it. Beauty has to be experienced - it simply cannot be properly explained.
Regrettably, I left college due to difficulties with financial aid. I have thought of going back, and would like to do so someday, but I'm not sure what I'd study. I'd dearly love to study physics, but careers in cosmology and theoretical physics do not exactly abound, and I really wouldn't want to teach high school. Higher mathematics and cosmology are doomed to remain hobbies for me - areas in which, like so many sports fans, I watch the pros play the game with no small measure of envy and fascination.
There is a very sad stereotype that one cannot be simultaneously religious and devoted to science. A handful of extremists has convinced much of society that science is explicitly antitheistic - and perhaps more disturbingly, that science disproves God. Science no more disproves God than philosophy disproves string theory. While science has contradicted - and ultimately disproved - certain ideas about the observable universe promulgated by some theologians, on the actual issue of God, science is mute. God and parts of cosmology are both out of the realm of science. Science deals with the observable universe - but when we start to ask questions that transcend that realm - when we start to explore questions of reality beyond that which we can perceive and test, then science is no longer useful. Science has limits, and makes no pretense to the contrary.
The intersection of science and religion is one that I tend to avoid, despite my fondness for both. The reason is that when the two interact, we're often left with bad science and worse theology. We end up with self-professed creation scientists shouting about the God of the gaps, making appeals to ignorance, or simply distorting scientific data on one end - and on the other, hysterical antitheists foaming at the mouth that science disproves God.
But once in a while, something interesting comes out of that chaotic space. On NPR's "Speaking of Faith," physicist and Anglican priest John Polkinghorne discusses his science and his theology, and how the two in his mind are not at odds. While I can't say that he and I disagree on everything - there are times when our theologies in particular sharply diverge - our agreements are quite substantial. I was really surprised to find that I had a lot of ideas in common with an Anglican priest! Polkinghorne doesn't try to push the "young earth" BS or to claim that science offers proof of the Divine. As both a scientist and a theologian, however, he dismantles the stereotype that the two are opposing disciplines.
Don't expect an astounding series of philosophical proofs here - it's just an NPR program, and both Polkinghorne and the host try to speak in terms that can be understood by those with very little knowledge of either physics or theology. That being said, it's worth a listen - at the very least, it's a lot more interesting than listening to some morning-show DJ make the usual series of fart jokes.
Comments
I think the conflict between science and religion depends upon one's interpretation of scripture. If one takes scripture to be historically accurate and interprets it literally, then there will be conflict. If on interprets scripture metaphorically, then there is no conflict. I would argue that a metaphorical interpretation of scripture is really the only rational way to read scripture.
On that, we would agree completely. A good part of my dismay at the conflict between science and religion has to do with the idea that science destroys religion. No, science destroys bad science. It destroys false, but testable claims made by religion. And in that, I believe religion has a great deal to learn from science. It was Darwin who taught the world to reject a literalist interpretation of the creation story - a story which was never intended to be taken literally. In doing so, science has vastly improved the theology of those willing to listen to it. From the knowledge that we gain about the universe through observation, we are able to reject a stiff, irrational theology of literalism, and to understand that the universe, and even that which we call God - is more complex, more profound, more multifaceted, and more beautiful than we ever expected.