A Contract with the Earth 19

In my last reading of A Contract with the Earth, Newt Gingrich and Terry Maple quote a statement by Richard Louv in Last Child in the Woods:

“Nature—-the sublime, the harsh, and the beautiful—-offers something that the street or gated community or computer game cannot.  Nature presents the young with something so much greater than they are; it offers an environment where they can easily contemplate infinity and eternity.”

Louv’s point (in the words of Newt and Maple) is that “children need exposure to nature for the healthy development of their senses, to learn and to create” (page 181).  Louv believes that their lack of exposure to nature has contributed to ADHD.  Earlier in the book, on page 176, Newt and Maple refer to the example of Charles Darwin, who was enchanted with nature from an early age and whose “youthful enthusiasm for nature lasted a lifetime” (page 176).  (Is Newt a Republican who believes in evolution?)

I believe that nature is valuable apart from whether or not it benefits human beings, but I do agree with Newt and Maple that people lose out when they are not exposed to nature.  Nature makes us feel small when we look at its greatness and beauty.  It inspires us and makes us think about “infinity and eternity”.

Writing and Naturalistic Bees

My church’s Bible study group was good last night.  We’re going through Margaret Feinberg’s Scouting the Divine: My Search for God in Wine, Wool, and Wild Honey.  Two things stood out to me.

1.  We watched the DVD in which Margaret speaks.  Margaret was talking about different kinds of bees and the distinct roles that they play in making honey.  She then went on say that Christians in the body of Christ perform necessary roles, whether or not they feel that their work is important.  She said that there are times when she doubts the importance of her own work.  How can that be, when she is an author, speaker, and Bible teacher?  Margaret responded to that question by saying that she doesn’t see many of the people whom she impacts, and that she spends a lot of her time in research or in front of her computer screen, with no other company than God.  In those lonely times, she wonders if she is making any impact at all.

I appreciated Margaret’s honest comments about what it’s like to be a writer.  Personally, I like writing because of the solitude.  I wonder what kind of difference I am making, and I assume that this feeling will go away were I to become published and more well-known.  Not necessarily!

2.  Margaret quotes the beekeeper she interviews in the book as saying that an atheist who sees a hive would believe in God, presumably on account of the hive’s order.  My pastor agreed with that comment, for he noted that each bee somehow knows its distinct role in making honey.  He wonders how that could be the case, had God not programmed the bees to do so.

I wouldn’t be surprised if an atheist could come up with an explanation.  I don’t fully know what it would be, but I wouldn’t be surprised.  I’ve heard evolutionists say that animals learn that something works, and then they pass on what they learn to their offspring, such that it becomes instinct.  Animals that don’t do this are the ones that don’t survive.  In this model, I speculate, bees found a way to support themselves by making honey, which happens to be delicious for humans, and so they were survivors who passed down that know-how to their offspring.

Feel free to comment, only don’t put me or anyone else down as stupid.  I admit that I don’t know much about bees.

2/15/2012 Links

1.  Mason Slater on his blog is featuring a YouTube clip in which Peter Enns is interviewing N.T. Wright on the question of whether the Bible should be interpreted literally.  What stood out to me in Wright’s response was his characterization of Genesis 1 as a story about the earth being a temple for God.  In the ancient Near East, a temple would be built over a period of time, and that culminated in the image of the deity being brought into the temple.  In Genesis 1, the cosmos is being fashioned over a period of time, and that culminates in the image of God—-man and woman—-inhabiting it.

I’ve heard the argument that Genesis 1 is related to the concept of temple, but I did not really understand it until I watched that clip of N.T. Wright.  But I wonder if that argument is relevant to the question of whether or not we should interpret Genesis 1 literally.  Is Wright saying that Genesis 1 is not a literal, historical account of creation but a metaphor, as the cosmos is being compared to the temple?  Is his point that we should go with the meaning of the story—-that God made the cosmos to be a temple for himself and his image—-rather than assuming that the story itself is what really happened?  Does he believe that P did not regard his creation account as what really happened, but was simply telling a story to convey a theological point?  If so, my question is this: Couldn’t P have thought that he was writing what actually happened and that the cosmos was a temple for God and God’s image?

2.  In a comment under her post, Silence is not the answer, Sarah Moon links to an article by Peggy McIntosh that defines and illustrates white privilege.  Reading that article reminded me of a couple of things.

First of all, when I was a student at Harvard Divinity School, I had to attend discussion sessions on the issue of white privilege.  The facilitator concluded one session by saying that, if we don’t ordinarily think about our race or gender or sexual orientation, then we are most likely a part of the privileged class.  I admit that, ordinarily, I don’t think about my race.  I don’t have to be worried about being stopped by a cop because of the color of my skin, or being looked at suspiciously when I go into a public place.  But people who look different are regularly reminded that they look different, and that they are a minority.

Second, I thought about David Nilsen’s last three posts about his daughter from Guatemala, and how people who ask about her or talk to her highlight how she is different, whereas David wants for her not to have to feel out-of-place (see here, here, and here).

3.  My church is starting a new Bible study tonight.  For six weeks, we will be going through Margaret Feinberg’s Scouting the Divine: My Search for God in Wine, Wool, and Wild Honey.  I’ll blog through this study, the same way that I blogged through my church’s study of Tim Keller’s Prodigal God.  To be honest, I’m having a difficult time getting into Feinberg’s book and the workbook that goes with it, both of which are packed with detail.  (The workbook is practically a book in itself!)  But I won’t be surprised if this study turns out to be a blessing, and blogging through it will hopefully help me to internalize some things that I learn, as did my blogging through Tim Keller’s Prodigal God.

Did the Ancients Interpret Their Cosmologies Literally?

The blogosphere is abuzz with discussion about Kevin deYoung’s post, 10 Reasons to Believe in a Historical Adam.  James McGrath responded to deYoung’s post, as did Joel Watts.

Charles Halton has an excellent response to deYoung, and Charles links to an older post that he wrote on whether the ancients interpreted their cosmologies literally.  Charles argues that they did not necessarily, whereas, in the Comments section, Doug Becker of Trinity Evangelical Divinity School holds that they may have.

I find the discussion on Charles’ blog refreshing because, in many cases, I think that people use the canard of “Genesis 1 was not intended to be a literal account of creation, but was poetry” without offering support for that proposition.  It’s like they’re just saying that so they can believe in the Bible and evolution at the same time, which means that they’re projecting their modern concerns onto the ancients.  Charles and Doug, by contrast, offer actual arguments on whether or not the ancients interpreted their cosmologies in a literal, factual manner, based (in large part) on the ancients themselves.

David Marshall: “Is Christianity a Blessing?”

For my write-up today on David Marshall’s The Truth Behind the New Atheism, I’ll blog about Chapter 8, “Is Christianity a Blessing?”

The essential argument of this chapter is that Christianity has done a lot of good in the world in terms of meeting human needs and advancing respect for human dignity, especially that of the marginalized.  Marshall documents that this has been the case in India and other places, and also throughout history, as Christians have taken bold stands against slavery from Christianity’s early days.  Marshall is responding to the new atheistic charge that the Christian religion has had a negative net effect on the world, and I know that many skeptics point to this negative effect to argue that we shouldn’t have faith in the first place, and that even those who are liberal, mainline, or non-fanatical people of faith are enabling the dangerous practitioners of religion by believing in something without proof.  But Marshall and other people of faith do well to point out the positive effects of Christianity on the world—-the way that people’s acceptance of biblical teachings about love and respecting the dignity of all has motivated them to elevate the downtrodden and marginalized and to combat injustice.

I think that Marshall’s portrayal of Christianity in this chapter is a bit one-sided, for I find that the Bible contains egalitarian and liberationist elements, but also aspects that are patriarchal, nationalistic, pro-slavery, and prejudiced against certain people-groups (see my post here).  Moreover, while Marshall does well to highlight the Christian opposition to slavery across the centuries, there is another side to this issue, for there were also prominent Christian voices in favor of slavery (see here, here, and here).  So which side was following the Bible?  I believe that both were, in their own minds.  The anti-slavery side drew from the salient liberationist stream in the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament, where God frees slaves (literally or spiritually), whereas the pro-slavery side acknowledged certain biblical writings’ recognition (even support) of slavery as an institution.

Marshall implies in this chapter that Christianity is better than other religions from the standpoint of practicality and also humanitarianism.  On the issue of humanitarianism, he may be right, for I know of more Christian charities than Buddhist or Hindu ones.  Marshall quotes even the Dalai Lama as saying that he wishes Buddhists were as proactive about humanitarian work as Christians are!  On the issue of practicality, Marshall takes issue with Sam Harris’ exaltation of Jainism as better than Christianity, for Jainism’s teaching that people should not kill or injure any living thing could have disastrous consequences (i.e., not harming lice and fleas, which then proliferate).  Moreover, on page 138, Marshall states:

“Some of what [Gandhi] taught was at odds with Christianity.  Even Harris finds his advice to the Jews in Europe—-commit mass suicide to shame Hitler—-too much.  ‘Gandhi’s was a world in which millions more would have died in the hopes that the Nazis would have one day doubted the goodness of their Thousand Year Reich,’ Harris comments, adding, ‘Ours is a world in which bombs must occasionally fall where such doubts are in short supply.’  On this point, Harris agrees with the Christian ‘just war’ tradition.  He entirely forgets to ask, ‘What would [the Jainist] Mahavira do?’”

But my problem with Marshall here is his generalization of the Christian teaching about war, when he says that some of what Gandhi taught was at odds with Christianity, and then goes on to discuss Gandhi’s view that people should not resist Hitler.  Within Christianity, the just war tradition has not been the only game in town, for there have been salient Christian voices as early as the church fathers who opposed Christian service in the military (see here).  I think that Marshall should have mentioned that in an end-note.

A significant issue that comes up in this chapter, as well as Chapter 5 (“Did God Evolve?”), is the “is-ought” question: does evolution or atheism provide a solid foundation for morality, enough to tell us that we “ought” to do good and not bad?  Marshall does not appear to think so, and he refers to skepticism even among atheists about this.  While evolution may promote cooperation and benevolence within an “in-group” because that would enable people in the group to survive, does it provide a basis for helping those in the “out-group”, with whom the “in-group” is competing for resources?  Does it encourage assisting the weak and the sick, people who (on the surface, at least) do not contribute to the group? 

These are big questions, and I cannot do them justice here.  I’m hesitant to say that the Bible should be the basis for morality because there are areas in which the Bible appears to contradict what we understand as just and right.  But can there be an evolutionary or even a secular foundation for morality?  Perhaps cooperation rather than competition between groups can ensure survival and prosperity.  Maybe there is a benefit that comes from taking care of the “least of these”, for the “least” may themselves contribute to society in some way (i.e., being a friend), or people can contribute to society better if they’re not continually afraid of themselves or their loved ones being kicked to the curb for becoming weak or sick. 

David Marshall: “Some Riddles of Evolution”

Today, I’ll blog about Chapter 4 of David Marshall’s The Truth Behind the New Atheism.  This chapter is entitled “Some Riddles of Evolution”.  Whereas, in Chapter 3, Marshall expresses some openness to evolution, in Chapter 4 he appears to question it, at least until the last few pages.

I’ll say before I write about Marshall’s questions that I do not know much about evolution, for science is not my field, and so I welcome correction.  I will not, however, publish any comments that call me or anybody else stupid.

Now, on to Marshall.  Several of his questions about evolution resemble the objections to it that I heard when I was growing up.  First, Marshall expresses skepticism that something as complex as DNA (which was likely a prerequisite for the first life) could have emerged by chance.  Second, in response to the evolutionist point that viruses and bacteria mutate to become resistant, he says that “I have seen none claim that in the relatively well-known recent history of these pathogens, any have in fact evolved into something strikingly new” (page 70).  That reminds me of the the strands of creationism that are open to micro-evolution but not to macro-evolution.  Third, Marshall says that helpful mutations (which are the basis of evolution) are rare.  And fourth, he asks why we don’t see too many helpful mutations nowadays.  His fourth point called to my mind a question that a relative of mine used to ask: “If evolution is true, why aren’t we still evolving?”

To his credit, Marshall interacts with new atheist arguments against Intelligent Design.  ID advocate Michael Behe has argued that the eye is a problem for Darwinism, for the eye needs certain parts for it to work, and Behe cannot imagine animals surviving in a stage where they would have an eye without one of its important parts.  The implication, for Behe, is probably that it makes more sense to say that God created the eye, than to say that the eye evolved through stages, some of which lacked the parts that were necessary for the eye to function.  Richard Dawkins’ response is that even a deficient eye can work on some level, and so animals can survive with that.  But Marshall retorts on page 74: “The question isn’t what happens when half the complete structure is missing.  The question is what happens when half its parts are missing.  What good is an eye without an optic nerve?  Or an optic nerve that connects only halfway?”

Marshall also points out what he believes is a contradiction in Dawkins’ approach to Intelligent Design.  Dawkins acknowledges that “genuinely irreducible complexity…would wreck Darwin’s theory,” and he quotes Darwin as saying that “If it could be demonstrated that any complex organ existed which could not possible have been formed by numerous, successive, slight modifications, my theory would absolutely break down.”  And yet, Dawkins also says that “Searching for particular examples of irreducible complexity is a fundamentally unscientific way to proceed: a special case of argument from present ignorance.”  According to Marshall, Dawkins challenges skeptics about evolution to look for irreducibly complex organs, and then he says that such a search would be unscientific!

Notwithstanding his questions, Marshall does appear to admit that there is evolution, for he states on page 77: “Species do not…change as gradually as Darwin anticipated—-something dramatically new appears, then remains much the same for long periods.”  Marshall also asks if nature itself could be a design program, which may mean that God could have set natural selection into motion to bring about design.

A prominent theme in this chapter is how evolutionists have sought to censor and stigmatize any critique of evolution, even when it has been made by someone (say) with a doctorate from Cambridge.  Marshall speaks favorably of an interaction between ID proponent Behe and evolutionist Kenneth Miller: “A better way to decide whether [irreducible complexity] can be disposed of at all (say, by positing intermediate uses for new organisms) is to read both sides of the debate” (page 75).  And yet, at the end of the chapter, Marshall expresses discomfort with voices from both sides: “Both sides discredit themselves at times by forcing all science into a theological cage that depends on what great Christians thousands of years ago already saw as a naive reading of Genesis, and some atheists by ‘No Bleevurz Aloud’-type postings on the doorpost of Le Club Scientifique” (pages 76-77).

I won’t offer a thorough critique of this chapter, but I’ll say this: Evolution still does take place, as new species are developing.  But I think that Marshall raises a good question when he asks why we have not seen it that much with humans.  An evolutionist answer that I have read is that we survive as we are and thus are able to pass on our genes, and so the point here may be that we do not need to evolve, or that we haven’t been weeded out by natural selection (see my post on Jerry Coyne here).  But that explanation does not satisfy me, for why can’t we survive and have helpful mutations?  I doubt that helpful mutations came only on an “as needed” basis in the history of evolution, for fish were surviving quite well, but some of them still had a mutation that led them on the path to becoming something else.  Why don’t we see this with humans, that often?  

On the whole issue of whether the gaps in evolution should encourage scientists to throw in the towel and say “God did it”, or to have faith that there is a natural explanation out there and to search rigorously for it, I’d say that they should feel free to look for a natural explanation, and I question whether theists should root their belief in God so heavily in the existence of gaps.

David Marshall: “Does Evolution Make God Redundant?”

Today, I’ll blog some about Chapter 3 of David Marshall’s The Truth Behind the New Atheism.  This chapter is entitled “Does Evolution Make God Redundant?”

At the outset, let me say that this was a fair and judicious chapter about science and Christianity.  Marshall acknowledged the evidence for an old earth and the existence of human beings and animals long before 6,000 years ago.  While Marshall raised some questions about evolution—-as when he noted that Darwin himself saw problems in his own construct, and said that the “missing links” fossils “often bring up more questions than they answer”—-he still admits that natural selection occurs and that “the basic pattern of life’s history” in the fossil record “roughly follows Darwin’s scheme” (page 57).  Marshall also is open to the possibility that Genesis 1 is not literal history, but may be like a parable—-a story that instructs us.  At the end of the chapter, Marshall says that faith is reasonable, but that God has left room for doubt so as not to be stifling.  Marshall refers to I Kings 19:12, in which God speaks to Elijah in a still, small voice.  Marshall closes the chapter by saying: “For some, evolution has shouted down the voice of God.  For others, it allows them to hear that voice in a new and more subtle way” (page 59).

But I disagreed with a few points that Marshall made.  On page 55, Marshall said that “The world has often quarreled with Genesis, and gotten the worse of it.”  As examples, he says that the biblical views that the universe had a beginning and came from nothing and that all of humanity is descended from one man and one woman have been scientifically vindicated.  My opinion is different.  On the first “biblical” view, creation ex nihilo, it is debated whether or not Genesis 1 even has creation ex nihilo.  Many biblical scholars, both conservative and liberal, have contended that what we see in Genesis 1 is God creating the cosmos out of already existing matter, not God creating it out of nothing.  That would mean that Genesis 1 overlaps with ancient Near Eastern stories such as Enuma Elish rather than being ahead of its time.

On the second biblical view, the descent of all of humanity from one man and one woman, Marshall says that science has confirmed that, for humans share 99.9 per cent of their DNA, meaning (in Francis Collins’ words) that we are “truly part of one family.”  I can understand Marshall’s reasoning here.  After all, evolutionists have said that monkeys and humans share a common ancestor because they both share a high percentage of their DNA, so why can’t we say that humans sharing a high percentage of DNA demonstrates a common descent from two people?  But, overall, science does not claim that all of humanity descended from one man and one woman.  Indeed, there is a prominent scientific belief that there was a Mitrochondrial Eve from whom women inherited their mitrochondrial DNA, and a Y-Chromosome Adam from whom men got their Y-chromosome DNA.  But an article on Biologos (which consulted Francis Collins) states that “Mitochondrial Eve and Y-chromosome Adam lived at different times, were probably separated by thousands of years and quite possibly were in different locations” (see here).  Moreover, a few articles on Biologos’ site dispute that all of humanity descended from one human couple, and one of them goes into scientific reasons that such is unlikely (see here and here).

Turning to another topic, Marshall says on page 57: “Few animals (and of course, no plants) have the intellectual capacity to suffer.  Higher animals can and do—-though not, probably, as much as we think, looking at it sympathetically from the human point of view.”  I do not know what the significance of Marshall’s statement is here, but animal suffering is a serious theodicy problem, according to some skeptics (see here and here).  For human suffering, theists can simply say that God is putting us through pain in order to make us better people, but why would God make animals suffer, when they do not morally and spiritually develop (at least at the level that we do)?  To support his claim, Marshall cites an article by apologist Glenn Miller of Christian Thinktank (see here).  I did not plow through all of Miller’s article (which is well-researched, as his articles usually are), but it does appear to be worth the read, for it questions if animal suffering is really as widespread as skeptics say.  Speaking personally, I do believe that some animals (such as cats and dogs) experience pain, which is why cruelty to animals is such a horrible thing.

Do You Think About the Things That You DO Think About?

I’m reading Rachel Held Evans’ Evolving in Monkey Town right now, and I’ll be writing some blog-posts about it, on-and-off, that is.  I also have Jason Boyett’s O Me of Little Faith, and I will get to that, at some point.

The Scopes trial in the 1920′s plays a significant part in Rachel’s book.  At the Scopes trial, renowned statesman and devout Christian William Jennings Bryan assisted in the prosecution of John Scopes, a science teacher who violated a Tennessee law against teaching evolution.  Famous attorney Clarence Darrow assisted in the defense of Scopes.  The climax of the trial came when Darrow put Bryan on the witness stand as an expert on the Bible.  Rachel includes pieces of that interaction in her book, and it overlaps with how the movie Inherit the Wind depicts the scene (though scholars have pointed out that Inherit the Wind is inaccurate in certain areas).  I think that the most poignant question that Darrow asked Bryan was this: “Do you think about the things that you do think about?”  Darrow asked Bryan if he ever studied ancient civilizations—which pre-dated the time that Archbishop Ussher calculated (from the Bible) that God created the heavens and the earth.  Darrow inquired if Bryan ever wondered what would happen if the earth stood still—as supposedly occurred during Joshua’s long day.  To these questions and others, Bryan responded that he had not thought about such issues.  Rather, Bryan believed in the Bible, and he found the Bible to be a sufficient source of spiritual nourishment.  Darrow criticized Bryan’s apparent lack of intellectual curiosity.  As a result of that incident, Bryan’s fundamentalism became a laughing-stock to many.

According to Rachel, Bryan’s inadequate answers on the witness-stand prompted a wave of Christian apologetics, as apologists faulted Bryan for being unprepared to defend his faith.  Rachel does not explicitly say this, but I can imagine that these apologists thought that, if they were put on the witness stand in Bryan’s place, they would have done a whole lot better, and would probably have sent Darrow packing!

But Darrow’s question of “Do you think about the things that you do think about?” got me thinking about when I am curious enough to research a topic, and when I am not.  There are situations in which I can be as intellectually lazy as William Jennings Bryan, perhaps because I feel that a topic is not important to me, or I am uninterested in a topic, or I am interested in other things, or I am content having a particular worldview and do not want to change.  But there are other times when I do research—because I am trying to win a debate, or a topic really does interest me, or I want to uncover the truth about a matter.  Then there have been times when I have been reluctant to research a topic but have forced myself to do so.  In some cases, I feel like I’m being absorbed into a bottomless pit of uninteresting data.  In other cases, I find the process of research to be enjoyable, and the results to be fascinating.

I’ll use the age of the cosmos as an example of when I feel like researching, and when I do not.  Recently, someone posted on a site an excellent blog-post by famous atheist P.Z. Myers, entitled Dear Emma B.  At a NASA display of a moon-rock, a lady said that the rock was 3.75 billion years old.  Nine-year old Emma then asked the lady a question: “Were you there?”  Creationist Ken Ham is praising Emma for her question, for he himself has asked how evolutionists can be so dogmatic about their claims, when none of them was actually present when the universe originated.

In his blog-post, P.Z. Myers praises Emma for asking a question, for inquiry is essential to science.  But he disputed that Emma’s question was really all-that-productive.  Of course the lady showing the exhibit was not present at the origin of the moon-rock!  Emma has learned nothing by asking that question!  A more productive question would have been, “Why do you think that the moon-rock is that old?”  Emma would have learned something new had she asked that question.   Myers then proceeds to tell Emma that we all make conclusions about events at which we were not present, but that doesn’t mean that the conclusions are wrong.  For example, many of us were not present at the American Civil War, but we believe that there was one.  Then, Myers explains radiometric dating in a clear and cogent manner.

Underneath the post of Myers’ piece, a creationist posted an article from Creation Science Evangelism, entitled Evidence for a Young Earth.  This article argued that the earth is young, on the basis of trees, reefs, the earth’s rotation, population, the magnetic field, Niagra Falls, and salt in the ocean.  Here I was, applauding P.Z. Myers for urging Emma to be curious about people’s positions, and the rationales behind them.  And yet, I was uninterested in evaluating the basis for a creationist’s arguments!

Why?  Part of it is that I am content with my notion that conservative Christianity is wrong, on account of my own bad experiences with conservative Christianity—with all its dogmatism, its arrogance, its manipulation, its authoritarianism, its bullying, its group-think, and its cliquishness.  (Man, you can tell that I feel strongly about this!)  But part of it also is that I’m not all that interested in science, and I feel out-of-my-league when it comes to science.  As I’ve said before on other sites, I’d probably lose a debate with a creation scientist or an evolutionist—for the simple reason that I do not know much about science, and, therefore, I can’t evaluate claims that are made.  Plus, I have often doubted the importance of the issue.  A creationist can present me with what he considers to be evidence that the earth is young, not old.  I can respond that most scientists disagree with him.  He would then reply that there have been times in history when most scientists have been wrong.  But here’s what I can come back with: Even if the world is young, what does that prove?  It doesn’t prove that Christianity is true.  It doesn’t even prove that all of the Bible is inerrant in every detail!  All it would prove is that the earth is young!  Many conservative religionists act as if proof for one piece of their ideology means that their entire ideology is true, and they then feel free to bully others with that ideology.  But, in my opinion, their “proofs” for particular ideas do not prove their ideology!  Suppose an archaeologist finds proof that King David existed.  That doesn’t prove the truth of conservative evangelical Christianity!  All it proves is that King David existed.

Okay.  So I didn’t want to evaluate the creationist’s claims because I’m uninterested in science, and I don’t feel that the creation/evolution debate really matters.  But this isn’t entirely the case, for I have read debates between evolutionists and creationists, as well as books about the topic.  A debate that really got me questioning creationism was that between Berkley-educated scientist (and creationist) Duane Gish and scientist (and evolutionist) Ken Saladin of Georgia College (see here).  I’ve also read a debate between Intelligent-Design proponent Phillip Johnson and evolutionist Ken Miller.  I blogged through Jerry Coyne’s Why Evolution Is True, as well as looked at arguments by Ken Ham’s Answers in Genesis against the sorts of arguments that Coyne presents.  So I am interested in the issue, on some level.  Why?  I think it’s fun to look at arguments and to evaluate their strengths and weaknesses, to see why people believe the way that they do, and to weigh different interpretations of data—even if there are cases when I feel way out of my league.  That said, perhaps I will look at Creation Science Evangelism’s arguments for a young earth, as well as how an evolutionist site (such as www.talkorigins.org) addresses those arguments.  And I will blog about it, since blogging helps me to think through things, plus I want to create a resource of information for others.  But I don’t feel like doing so right at this moment, since there are other issues that interest me—such as stories about people’s faith journeys.

Ruether on the Western Scientific Narrative

Yesterday, I shared Rosemary Ruether’s critique of three creation accounts: Enuma Elish, Genesis 1, and Plato’s Timaeus.  In this post, I will share Ruether’s problems in Gaia and God with Western scientific accounts, or popular renditions of them.

First, Ruether does not like “the popular presentation of ‘wild’ nature, particularly under the influence of social Darwinist views of evolution, [which] has tended to present nature as ‘red in tooth and claw,’ the world of carnivore animals killing other animals” (page 55).  According to Ruether, such a picture promotes “might makes right,” and the notion that “the strong have a right to prevail over the weak” (page 55).  Ruether has a problem with narratives that support aggression, and that includes the popular Darwinian narrative.

But Ruether doesn’t just dislike this narrative because it promotes aggression.  She also thinks that it presents a rather skewed picture of reality.  She says that it “greatly exaggerates the place of meat-eating in nature, in relation to the total food chain of nature, where most food is provided by plants” (page 55).  For Ruether, it is not the case that the strong carnivores are the “king[s] of the forest.”  Rather, “all the diverse animal and plant populations in an ecosystem are kept in healthy and life-giving balance by interdependancy” (page 55).  A herbivore cannot eat all of the plants, for example, for then he will starve.  Small animals have an ability to “elude their predators”, which keeps in check “the numbers of large carnivores” (page 56).  Different plants and animals have evolved ways to protect themselves—as some plants have evolved “unpleasant tastes, thorns, and nettles,” and there are animals who can camouflage themselves (page 56).  All plants and animals depend on “humble fungi and bacteria, who break down dead plants and animal bodies and recycle the nutrients into the soil, allowing for the renewal of food production from its primary producers, the plants” (page 56).  Even the humblest in nature play a crucial role.

And, while nature indeed has competition, there is also cooperation.  Ruether notes that a “particular bird may be allowed to ride on the back  of a large bison because it picks off and eats the insects that plague this animal”, and that “Animal groups form families of mutual care that help the young, protect, and share food with each other” (page 56).  Why should we depict nature as an arena of ruthless competition—and use that picture to justify our own ruthlessness—when, even in nature, unchecked ruthlessness leads to self-destruction? As Ruether astutely states, “the human cultural concept of ‘competition’…imagines the other side as an ‘enemy’ to be ‘annihilated,’ rather than an essential component of an interrelationship upon which it itself depends” (page 56). Ruether would probably agree with Mufafsa in The Lion King: there is a “circle of life.”

Second, Ruether dislikes the mechanistic picture of the Big Bang and ecology.  For Ruether, “mechanistic thought…reduces the complex and living interconnection of nature to its component parts [and] prefers nonliving parts to living and dynamic wholes” (page 57).  Ruether continues to say, “This bias disposes scientists to describe the extraordinary mystery of life’s origins as the Big Bang, a term that suggests a loud explosion, rather than choosing a term, such as the ‘cosmic egg’ or the ‘superabundant nucleus,’ that might put us in touch with the wonder of the very story that they themselves have uncovered” (page 57).  Ruether believes that there is a “masculinist bias” in the Big Bang narrative, in its “choice of a metaphor of destructive violence, rather than of gestation and birth” (page 57). Regarding ecology, Paul Ehrlich calls it the “machinery of nature.”

Ruether does not care for this lifeless conceptualization of nature, and she says that “We need scientist-poets who can retell the story…of the cosmos and the earth’s history, in a way that can call us to wonder, to reverence for life, and to the vision of humanity living in community with all its sister and brother beings” (page 58).  Ruether especially likes a term for earth that she uses in the title of this book, “Gaia,” which was used by biologists Lynn Margulis and James Lovelock.  Gaia, according to Ruether, is “a living organism of complex interdependencies and biofeedback, linking biota and its ‘environment’ of soil, air, and water” (page 56).

I like this chapter because it helps me to identify more with some feminist and post-modernist criticisms of science: that even science can be sullied by societal bias.  Ruether does not appear to take that to mean that there is no accurate or objective account of reality, however, and I don’t go that far, either.  She just thinks that how that reality is described can be influenced by society’s biases and prejudices.

Finishing Blocher; Price-Controls; II Kings 24

1.  I finished Henri Blocher’s In the Beginning just now.  In his appendix, he discusses the creationist/evolutionist debate, presenting each side in a fair manner (in my opinion).  He finds the young-earth, anti-evolution creationist arguments to be wanting, contending that one can believe in the Bible while accepting the old age of the earth and evolution.  Blocher says that we don’t have to take Genesis 1 literally, and that God can use natural processes.  Regarding early man, I’m not sure where Blocher stands.  He talks some about when man got to the point where he was in the image of God, but he remarks that “we are not quite certain what it is we are looking for when we try to discover the first man largely in terms of incomplete skeletons” (page 231). 

I was hoping that this book would focus more on how to reconcile the Bible and evolution, from an evangelical perspective.  Maybe there are jewels in it that I missed.  Right now, I want to move on to something else.  I’m thinking of Kenneth Miller’s Finding Darwin’s God.

2.  In Henry Hazlitt’s Economics in One Lessons, I read about government price-controls, the minimum wage, and unions.  Hazlitt criticizes all three as detriments to production, although he does praise unions for promoting skills in workers.  Hazlitt’s argument against price-controls is that they create shortages.  If a company can’t raise prices so it can earn enough money to produce stuff and make a profit, then it just won’t produce stuff.  (I think that’s what he’s saying.)  But why can’t the company produce more stuff, sell it at a low price, and earn more money that way?  Maybe Hazlitt would say that the high prices are essential for the company to get the structure it needs in order to do that.

3.  My weekly quiet time was on II Kings 24.  I guess what stood out to me was the oddness of the chapter.  God sends enemies against Judah in the days of King Jehoiakim, in order to remove Judah from his sight, on account of the sins of Manasseh.  But Judah is not removed from God’s sight during the reign of Jehoiakim, for Jehoiakim is replaced with another king from the line of David, Jehoiachin.  Under Jehoiachin, Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon besieges Jerusalem and takes away her palace elite, her mighty men of war, and her smiths and craftsmen.  How could Judah do anything militarily now?  And yet, Jehoiachin’s successor, Zedekiah, feels confident enough to revolt, under the prompting of God, who’s setting Judah up to fail!  Zedekiah may have gotten soldiers from the population of Judah, only they weren’t “mighty men”.