Evolution and Human Participation in Creation

There is much that science can tell us about the world, but it doesn't exhaust the possibilities.  There is room for other layers of explanation.  Albert Einstein didn't believe in a personal God, but he did have a sense that there might be something deeper, below the surface that gave guidance or mindfulness to the process of creation. 

In Krista Tippett's new book Einstein's God, which I've just started reading, she discusses Einstein's views of theology and science with physicists Freeman Dyson and Paul Davies.  As part of this discussion, she offers a quote from Einstein's autobiography, in which he writes of his own sense of religiousness.  It is, for Einstein the sense of mystery and amazement.  He's not a believer in a God of rewards and punishments (but then neither do I)  nor does he believe in a God with a will like ours (in this I differ from him, for I believe our will is a reflection of God's).   Then he writes:

Enough for me, the mystery of the eternity of life and the inkling of the marvelous structure of reality, together with the single-hearted endeavor to comprehend a portion, be it ever so tiny, of the reason that manifests itself in nature (p. 23)  [emphasis mine].

For Einstein there is something there, the universe is not mindless.  What that entails, well that's another discussion.

But, if we're open to the idea that evolution and faith are not incompatible, then perhaps there is a way of developing a theology of evolution that respects the integrity of science and the integrity of faith.  John F. Haught, whose book Making Sense of Evolution (WJK, 2010), I've been commenting upon, suggests that "evolution allows us to realize that human beings are invited to participate in the great work of creation" (p. 148).    We are, he suggests co-creators, and evolution as a theory allows us to understand the role we play.

He goes on to write:

If we fail to keep this evolutionary perspective alive, our sense of ethical obligation -- and for the Christian, the following of Christ -- is in danger of being reduced to blind obedience to arbitrary imperatives and divine commands, or perhaps simply to seeking a reward in the hereafter.  In that case, ethical life becomes, Teilhard's words, a matter of "killing time," and redemption becomes a matter of "harvesting souls" from a pointless universe. (pg. 148)

In other words, there is something bigger out there for us to participate in.  Evolution becomes then a gift from Darwin to the church, so that it can better understand its calling.  He concludes the book:

After Darwin, Christian theology can do better than this.  Even though Darwin himself seemed oblivious to the potential his discoveries have to stimulate theological, spiritual, and ethical renewal.  his theory of evolution is a great gift to Christian theology and spirituality as they seek to interpret Jesus' revolutionary understanding of God for our own age and future generations.  (p. 148)

Rather than being the death nail of faith, as Dawkins and his friends suggest, Darwin's theories offer an opportunity for Christians to reclaim their calling to be a blessing to the world through participating in the creation of the universe.  I think that's a pretty good gift!

Ultimate Explanations of Design

Yesterday, I raised the possibility of seeing creation as a drama -- something that John Haught suggests.  Haught is a Catholic theologian who has a good grasp of the relationship of science and theology.  He suggests in his book Making Sense of Evolution that Charles Darwin's  Origin of the Species raises three subtexts with theological implications -- design, diversity, and descent.  He adds into that conversation other elements, the key being drama.  For a moment, however, I need to go back to the question of design.  One of the things that Haught suggests is that both the Evolutionary Naturalists and the Creationist/ID folks are arguing on the same plane -- dealing with the question of design.  Both sides seem to have the same definition of design -- that is, if God is the designer then everything should work perfectly (whatever that means).  Haught believes that if what requires is that divine design means "without flaws," then the theological proposal falls flat.  But, there are other ways of looking at this issue.  

What is important to note about Darwin is that he started his explorations with William Paley ideas of design in mind, ideas he came to reject as unworkable in practice, but there is no evidence that Darwin rejected the idea of a divine hand -- he just didn't know how it might work, which is the way it should be, at least from a scientific perspective.

The problem we face today is that there are some in the religious community that wish to answer scientific questions with religious answers.  At the same time, there are those, like Dawkins, who want to answer theological questions with science.  Haught suggests that when evolutionists want to use evolution as "an alternative to traditional theological understanding, they are not yet doing pure science." (Making Sense of Evolution, p. 17).  Evolution isn't an alternative to a theological explanation, it is a different kind of explanation all together.  He writes:

Even if they reject classic theological answers to the question of design, as they almost invariably do, they are still imprisoned by a kind of concern that is more theological than scientific.  The evidence for this confusion emerges clearly whenever evolutionists insist that it is natural selection rather than divine action that provides the ultimate explanation of design.  If they would stick to arguing that natural selection is an alternative to other proposed scientific explanations of design, biologists would remain outside the theological circle. (pp. 17-18).

Unfortunately they don't stick with scientific explanatioins -- they want to offer theological answers with natural selection serving as a theological answer.  And, as Haught notes, this simply doesn't work, because these are two different kinds of answers.  Thus, as Haught notes, even in their rejection of theology, the "evolutionary naturalists" such as Dawkins and Dennett end up talking theology, because they seem to want to offer an "ultimate" explanation that is found only in biology. 

So, the question I'd like to raise is this -- can we have a conversation in which both theology and science participate without one or the other trying to have the last word?