Theology and Science? What about Philosophy?

 

In this posting I will follow up on what I said in my November 21, 2007, posting, “Approaching Polkinghorne’s Science and Theology,” by looking again at the title and then at the first paragraph of the book, which latter reads (p.1):

In recent years, many courses on science and religion have been inaugurated in colleges and universities, often encouraged and supported by grants from the John Templeton Foundation. The last thirty years have seen a great deal of scholarly writing in this academic area, so there have been many texts to which such courses could make reference. However, in my view, there has not been a textbook available. By that I mean a single book that attempts the humble but useful task of surveying the whole intellectual scene in an even-handed manner, recording as clearly as possible the variety of issues under discussion, explaining the possible treatments they can receive, and surveying the opinions of those writers who have made significant contributions to the field.

 

I find myself asking why it is that just those two disciplines are being singled out for the treatment, because I see two other theories or sciences that are at least as pertinent to theology as Polkinghorne’s science: philosophy and mathematics. In this posting I will argue for the pertinence of philosophy; in other words, the title for the work that I would have written would have been Theology, Philosophy, and Science.  In the near future, I will turn to the role of mathematics; to anticipate, the title that will then come into my mind will be Theology, Philosophy, Mathematics, and Science.

 

Now, then, as to philosophy: the science about which Polkinghorne speaks, and I prefer to call it empirico-mathematical science, is necessarily mute when it comes to the matters about which theology would, I presume, concern itself. That is because, as this science is an empirical science, it is by its very methodology necessarily restricted to physical reality; as a mathematical science, it is moreover by its very methodology necessarily restricted to the investigation of the quantitative aspects or characteristics of physical reality. On the other hand, the divine reality that I presume that theology deals with, if indeed such a divine reality does exist, is or would not be a physical reality, but rather a supra-physical and thus a non-physical reality, about which empirico-mathematical science must be mute.

 

Polkinghorne, of course, recognizes the limitations of science, saying, as he does (p. 4):

Every time we switch on the television, or use our PCs for work or pleasure, we are making use of facilities afforded us by the advance of science. Many of us are only alive today because medical discoveries enabled us to recover from illness which in past times would have proved fatal. The colossal sales of a book like Stephen Hawking’s Brief History of Time shows that there is a widespread yearning to understand what science can tell us of the history and structure of our universe. Yet there are other questions that nag at us, and which seem meaningful and necessary to ask, but in reply to which an honest science has to be silent. Is there a purpose behind the fifteen-billion year sweep of cosmic history or do things just happen in a world devoid of ultimate meaning? Is reality in some sense ‘on our side’ or do we live in a cold and hostile universe? Is death the end or can we hope for a destiny beyond it? These are questions to which religion has traditionally given answers. We have to ask whether these answers, or something like them, are still available for us today. In an age of science, can we with integrity also take religion with the utmost seriousness? Are science and religion conflicting or complementary? That is the broad issue for our investigation.

 

The first point of my argument that philosophy needs to be brought in is simply the observation that Plato and Aristotle, philosophers both, between them provided answers to the questions Polkinghorne raises.

 

The second point of my argument is the observation that philosophy does not share empirico-mathematical science’s methodological restriction to physical reality; one sign of this is the fact that the Principle of Non-Contradiction, according to which no being can both be and not be, in any one respect and at any one time, applies to any reality whatsoever, be it physical or, if such there be, non-physical. In at least this way, therefore, philosophy need not be mute about any supra-physical and thus non-physical reality there may be.

 

If my understanding enjoys some basis, then we should be prepared to discover that Polkinghorne’s perspective actually cannot do without philosophy and that, despite its absence from the title and the first paragraph of his book, philosophy will find a way to creep into his discussion, even if incompletely. In the next posting I will show this to have happened.

Polkinghorne on the Trinity

 

At the end of my immediately previous posting, I said that, because I had “raised the issue of the Trinity so prominently in my first posting and because, in surveying the table of contents of Science and Theology, I saw that the title of one of the sections of Chapter 6, ‘Christian Theology,’ is ‘The Trinity,’ in this posting I would “depart from the orderly review of Science and Theology that one might expect to see” and devote myself to what Polkinghorne does with the topic of the Trinity.

So here we go: the first sentence of his discussion of the Trinity reads:

While orthodox Christian thought ascribes divinity to Christ, no serious Christian theologian has ever simply equated Jesus to God.

 

Now I grant him that “no serious Christian theologian has ever simply equated Jesus to God.” But there is no doubt that some very serious Christian theologians have, though not simply, unequivocally “equated,” or identified, Jesus to or with God. Orthodox Christianity holds, that is, to each of the following statements:

Jesus is the Son of God.

 

The Son of God is God the Son.

 

God the Son is God.

 

Adopting the three statements as premises of and argument, we arrive at the conclusion that:

Jesus is God.

 

The equation or identification is, it is true, not simple, because Jesus is not the only person identified with God.

 

We have, then, Christian theology affirming, on the one hand, that there is but one God and, on the other, that there are three distinct persons and thus, if persons are beings, three distinct beings who are that one being. Thus Hardon (The Catholic Catechism, p. 66) quotes Pope Paul VI, certainly a most serious Christian theologian, saying in the Credo of the People of God:

The mutual bonds which eternally constitute the three persons, who are each one and the same divine being, are the blessed inmost life of God thrice holy, infinitely beyond all that we can conceive in human measure.

 

It is clear then why Polkinghorne (p. 113) can find himself advocating what he perceives to be a middle or third ground between the two extremes of, on the one hand, affirming that there is but one God while denying the plurality of persons and, on the other, affirming the plurality of persons and denying that there is but one God.

Most theological thinking (indeed, one might say, most profound human thinking of any kind) is concerned with trying to steer a path between the errors that lie at the oversimplified extremes of a complex situation. In the case of the Trinity, one extreme was modalism, regarding the three Persons as simple three perspectives on a single divine being, corresponding to three sorts of ways in which the One could be encountered (somewhat like the way one can encounter H₂O molecules as ice, water, or steam). This seemed insufficiently to respect the distinctions which, for example, were represented by Jesus praying to the Father. The other extreme was tritheism, interpreting ‘Person’ in the modern sense of a separated center of consciousness, and so creating a small Christian panteon of three gods, in denial of the fundamental insight that Christianity had inherited from Israel that ‘the Lord our God is one Lord’ (Deut. 6.4).

Often, of course, the mean is the wisest of options. But not always, for, as I noted in my first, November 20, 2007, posting there is the Principle of the Excluded Third (also known as the Principle of the Excluded Middle):

Any being must either be or not be, but cannot both be and not be, in any one respect and at any one time.

And here, in the discussion at hand, there is no middle or third ground; if there is a God, even that God must either be one or not be one (i.e., be many), but cannot both be one and not be one (i.e., be many), in any one respect and at any one time. 

In my next posting, I plan to return to the more or less orderly review of Polkinghorne’s Science and Theology that I have had in mind.

Approaching Polkinghorne’s Science and Theology

 

Having used John Polkinghorne’s book review, “The truth in religion,” as the point of departure for this blog’s first post, I thought it appropriate to buy copies of some of his works. Today I received a copy of his Science and Theology. An Introduction (London and Minneapolis: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge and Fortress Press, 1998) and it looks perfect for my aim, involving as it does the discussion of the issues surrounding the relationship of science and theology in a blog format.

 

I’ll say four things in this post, none of them earth-shattering in themselves but preparing the way for future results.

 

1. Following my usual reading method, which owes much to Mortimer J. Adler’s How to Read a Book and to my own variation on the SQ3R approach to reading, I’ll begin by querying the title and asking the three questions that the title fairly demands to have answered.

What, in Polkinghorne’s book, is science?

What, in Polkinghorne’s book, is theology?

What, in Polkinghorne’s book, is or are the relationship or relationships between science and theology?

These are questions his answers to which I’ll be mulling over in the posts to come.

2. Turning next to the table of contents, I see that following an “Introduction,” there are eight chapters:

Chapter 1. The Areas of Interaction

Chapter 2. The Scientific Picture of World

Chapter 3. Humanity

Chapter 4. Theism

Chapter 5. Divine Action

Chapter 6. Christian Theology

Chapter 7. The World Faiths

Chapter 8. The Search for Knowledge and Wisdom

3. I note that in the title of Chapter 1, “The Areas of Interaction,” there are already to be found the beginnings of an answer to the question of what the relationship or relationships between science and theology is or are: science and theology are capable of some kind of interaction. This suggests to me, first, that science and theology are not in a relationship of identity. That could actually represent a real information, for one sometimes sees texts in which, say, philosophy and theology are thought to stand in some identity or near identity.

The title, “The Areas of Interaction,” also suggest to me another question or set of questions:

What basis does he see for saying that there are areas of interaction between science and theology?

What interaction or interactions is or are there between science and theology?

Or:

In what way, if any, does science interact with or on theology? Or, since science and theology are purportedly forms of knowledge, does science inform theology and if so, how?

In what way, if any, does theology interact with or on science? Or, since science and theology are purportedly forms of knowledge, does theology inform science and if so, how?

4. The titles of the sections of Chapter 1 read as follows:

Some Historical Incidents

The Nature of Science

The Nature of Theology

Varieties of Interaction

Models, Metaphors, and Symbols

So now I have a good idea of where I’ll find some answers, or at least the beginnings of some answers, to the questions raised above. And I also have the bases from which to generate additional questions.

Because I raised the issue of the Trinity so prominently in my first posting and because, in surveying the table of contents of Science and Theology, I saw that the title of one of the sections of Chapter 6, “Christian Theology,” is “The Trinity,” I will depart from the orderly review of Science and Theology that one might expect to see to devote my next posting to what he does with that topic.

Further Specification of this Blog’s Philosophical Rationalism

In my immediately previous posting, I offered the following declaration of intention: “My proximate aim in this blog is to review religious beliefs, both in general and in particular, from the point of view of philosophical rationalism….” I thereafter proceeded to offer a demonstration that the Christian Trinitarian doctrine, at least as given a straightforward expression, is absurd and contradictory. I’d like to preface today’s posting by pointing out that that demonstration was a refutation of a particular religious belief and by no means an argument, much less a demonstration, purporting to show that religious belief in general needs to be abandoned. I do have the aim of showing that religious belief in general needs to be abandoned, but only in the long run, for much in the way of groundwork needs to done before that can be done.

That being said, the primary goal of today’s posting is to differentiate the philosophical rationalism motivating this blog from the philosophical rationalism of many at least of the critics of religion, for the latter takes the form of one version or another of positivism, or positivist rationalism, the thesis, an epistemological thesis bearing on our knowledge of the real, that only that science which is empirico-mathematical science represents a genuine science of the real. That thesis cannot be true, I argue, because there are theses of mathematics and ontology, bearing on the real itself, which we know to be true and which cannot be known to be true by means of empirico-mathematical science.

First, a representative mathematical, or, more precisely, arithmetical, thesis: Alfred North Whitehead, on p. 2 of his little classic An Introduction to Mathematics (London, Oxford, and New York: Oxford University Press, 1948), tells us:

The first acquaintance which most people have with mathematics is through arithmetic. That two and two make four is usually taken as the type of a simple mathematical proposition which everyone will have heard of. Arithmetic, therefore, will be a good subject to consider in order to discover, if possible, the most obvious characteristic of the science. Now, the first noticeable fact about arithmetic is that it applies to everything, to tastes and to sounds, to apples and angels, to the ideas of the mind and to the bones of the body. The nature of things is perfectly indifferent, of all things it is true that two and two make four. Thus we write down as the leading characteristic of mathematics that it deals with the properties and ideas which are applicable to things just because they are things, and apart from any particular feelings, or emotions, or sensations. This is what is meant by calling mathematics an abstract science.

We know that 2 + 2 = 4 is true and true of all things absolutely. Yet we do not and cannot know it to be true by means of empirico-mathematical science. Empirico-mathematical science simply cannot verify it to be true; the finite number of times that we can observe cases in which 2 + 2 = 4 cannot be enough to tell us that it will always be the case. (And, let me remark parenthetically, much less is it possible for empirico-mathematical science to falsify the thesis that 2 + 2 = 4.)

Next, some ontological theses that we also know to be true and true of all things absolutely and which yet are not and cannot be known it to be true by means of empirico-mathematical science:

The Principle of Non-Contradiction: No being can both be and not be, in any one respect and at any one time.

The Principle of Alternation: Any being must either be or not be, in any one respect and at any one time.

The Principle of the Excluded Third (also known as the Principle of the Excluded Middle): Any being must either be or not be, but cannot both be and not be, in any one respect and at any one time.

Given, then, that we know that these arithmetical and ontological theses are true and further that we cannot know that they are true by means of the empirical method of empirico-mathematical science, then it must be the case that we know them to be true by other means. It is for this reason that the philosophical rationalism motivating this blog is different from the philosophical rationalism, i.e., positivism, of many at least of the critics of religion.

The Aims of “Reading Religion Rationally”

In the online edition of the October 31st Times Literary Supplement there is a brief review by John Polkinghorne of two books that, in his words, “aim to make a more temperate contribution to the debate” than do the recent books “by Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens and others [which] tell us that religion is a corrupting delusion.” He complains:

Despite their assertions of the rationality of atheism, the style of their onslaughts has been strongly polemical and rhetorical, rather than reasonably argued. Historical evidence is selectively surveyed. Attention is focused on inquisitions and crusades, while the significance of Hitler and Stalin is downplayed. Believers in young-earth creationism are presented as if they were typical of religious people in general.

My proximate aim in this blog is to review religious beliefs, both in general and in particular, from the point of view of philosophical rationalism; there will be no need for and no reliance upon “strongly polemical and rhetorical onslaughts.” My ultimate aim is to persuade those readers who might be needing persuasion to adopt the point of view of philosophical rationalism and so to abandon fideism and indeed all forms of willingness to adhere to beliefs out of proportion to the evidence in their favor.

To begin with an easy illustration of the approach that my philosophical rationalism takes: orthodox Catholic Christianity holds, in the words of John A. Hardon, S.J., that “Jesus Christ is not either God or man; he is God and man.” Distilling it a bit, we have the thesis:

The man Jesus is also God.

The philosophical rationalism that I espouse cannot simply accept that thesis as true without argument, for it is surely not evident in the way that tautologies like the following are:

The Definition of “Two”: For any entity x and any entity y, if x is not identical with y, then x and y are two (distinct) entities.

The Principle of the Transitivity of Identity: For any entity x, any entity y, and any entity z, if x is identical with y and y is identical with z, then x is identical with z.

The Definition of “Three”: For any entity x, any entity y, and any entity z, if x is not identical with y, y is not identical with z, and x is not identical with z, then x, y, and z are three (distinct) entities.

Nor is it empirically evident in the way that “My desk is laden with books” and “Some of my chairs are laden with books” are. Given the lack of evidence ready to hand, it is surely not surprising that a good number of people not only do not believe the thesis about Jesus to be true, they in fact believe it to be false; thus mainstream Jews and Muslims, along with atheists and rationalists.

But, on the other hand, the philosophical rationalism that I espouse cannot simply deny that thesis as false, for, taken by itself, it is not immediately absurd in the way that contradictions like the following are:

For some entity x and some entity y, x is identical with y and x is not identical with y.

Though God the Father is identical with the one and only God, God the Son is identical with the one and only God, and God the Holy Spirit is identical with the one and only God, yet God the Father is not identical with God the Son, God the Father is not identical with God the Holy Spirit, and God the Son is not identical with God the Holy Spirit.

This latter directly contravenes the principle, companion to that of the transitivity of identity, that:

For any entity x, any entity y, and any entity z, if x is identical with z and y is identical with z, then x is identical with y.

So, if God the Father is identical with the one and only God and God the Son is identical with the one and only God, then God the Father is identical with God the Son. And so too for God the Father and God the Holy Spirit and for God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. Yes, I have just made the claim that the Christian Trinitarian doctrine, at least as thus straightforwardly expressed, is absurd and contradictory. But I hope I will be granted that in making that claim I was not guilty of any “strongly polemical and rhetorical onslaught.”

I said above that the thesis that the man Jesus is also God, taken by itself, it is not immediately absurd in the way that contradictions are. But it is not generally taken by itself, but as embedded in the doctrine of the Trinity.

Hardon sees the same contradictions here as philosophical rationalism does, but believes he has an escape.

     Part of the genius of the Catholic Church, reflected in these pages, is her ability to maintain a careful balance between extremes. Instead of taking one side of a radical “either, or,” she remains faithful to God’s eternal “and,” which spans both sides of what the natural man is inclined to call a contradiction, but which the spiritual man knows is simply a mirror of divine mystery.

     Christianity is therefore full of paradoxes, or apparent contradictions, which the Holy Spirit has successfully proclaimed for two millennia through the Church, which he animates as the soul of her corporate existence.

On the contrary: it is not just that the “natural man” is inclined to call the above contradictions contradictions or that they are but apparent contradictions; they just are contradictions, real contradictions.

I found Polkinghorne’s article at:

http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/the_tls/article2778493.ece.

I quote Hardon from:

John A. Hardon, The Catholic Catechism. A Contemporary Catechism of the Teachings of the Catholic Church (Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, 1975), pp. 24, 23-24.