The Blackwell Companion to Science and Christianity

J. B. Stump, Alan G. Padgett, J. B. Stump, Alan G. Padgett

• Publisher: Wiley-Blackwell
• Year: 2012
• ISBN:
  9781118256527
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Philosophy
• Subtopic: Philosophy of Religion

A cutting-edge survey of contemporary thought at the intersection of science and Christianity.

• Provides a cutting-edge survey of the central ideas at play at the intersection of science and Christianity through 54 original articles by world-leading scholars and rising stars in the discipline
• Focuses on Christianity's interaction with Science to offer a fine-grained analysis of issues such as multiverse theories in cosmology, convergence in evolution, Intelligent Design, natural theology, human consciousness, artificial intelligence, free will, miracles, and the Trinity, amongst many others
• Addresses major historical developments in the relationship between science and Christianity, including Christian patristics, the scientific revolution, the reception of Darwin, and twentieth century fundamentalism
• Divided into 9 Parts: Historical Episodes; Methodology; Natural Theology; Cosmology & Physics; Evolution; The Human Sciences; Christian Bioethics; Metaphysical Implications; The Mind; Theology; and Significant Figures of the 20 th Century
• Includes diverse perspectives and broadens the conversation from the Anglocentric tradition

Part I
Historical Episodes

1

Early Christian Belief in Creation and the Beliefs Sustaining the Modern Scientific Endeavor

CHRISTOPHER B. KAISER

It is widely recognized that many of the founders of modern Western science were Christians not merely incidentally, but were inspired in creative ways by their Christian faith. Johannes Kepler, Robert Boyle, Isaac Newton, and James Clerk Maxwell are some of the best-known examples. More specifically, the case has often before been made for a connection between biblical thought – particularly the biblical idea of creation – and the rise of modern science. Alfred North Whitehead and R. G. Collingwood were among the pioneers of the argument (see Whitehead 1925; Collingwood 1940). Its more recent exponents include Reijer Hooykaas and Stanley Jaki (see Hooykaas 1972; Jaki 1974). I would like to restate the case for a connection between creation and science with three major alterations to these traditional accounts.

First, I would like to avoid the procedure often used by philosophers and systematic theologians which treats creation as a timeless idea from which implications can be drawn by logical (or theo-logical) inference.¹ Instead I propose to examine the historical implications of belief in creation as that belief has actually been held and acted upon by Christians, and I shall refer here primarily to the writings of the early Church when the fundamental structures of Christian thought – common to all major branches of Christendom – were established. I hope to show, as a result, that the implications of belief in creation are much richer and much more flexible than has usually been supposed.

Second, I would like to avoid any suggestion that science and technology could not have developed, perhaps along very different lines, in non-Western cultures. For one thing, we know that significant advances in science and technology were made by the Chinese, the Hindus, and the Arabs at a time northwestern Europe was still a cultural backwater. The growth of modern Western science would not have been possible without extensive borrowing from all three of these cultures. And what of the future? Is it not possible that Western endeavors in science and technology might fail and that further progress might require the input of alternative world-and-life views from non-Western cultures?

The third alteration I would like to make in the argument is to make explicit the fact that the demonstration of a genetic relationship between theology and science has implications for both disciplines. An affiliation with theology could be intended as a kind of legitimation for modern science – and it was so understood by many apologists for the new science of the seventeenth century. But a theological affiliation also entails a set of values which would imply a standard and a direction for modern science if they were suitably updated and articulated. In other words, the separation of fact and value so commonly assumed in modern thought must be challenged by any program that roots modern science in traditional theology.

On the other hand, the claim to be the historic matrix of modern science might suggest a legitimation for Christian theology in the minds of some. In fact, much of the historical research on this topic would seem to have been motivated, at least in part, by an apologetic interest in the context of a culture where science and theology have often been regarded as antagonistic.

But parents always bear some responsibility for their children, even after they have grown up. For better or worse, modern science and technology reflect back on the credibility of the first article of the Christian faith, and there are many in our day for whom the suggestion of any genetic relationship between theology and science would be highly detrimental to the case of theology. In other words Christian laity and clergy bear a certain responsibility – responsibility to recall the creation faith and restate it in such a way that the biblical vision for science and technology will be known and possibly heeded.

Here I shall treat the implications of belief in creation as it relates to the relative autonomy and comprehensibility of the world created by God.² I shall briefly review the biblical background for these ideas, give examples of their usage in patristic, medieval, and early modern thought, and discuss their influence and implications for modern science.

The basic idea of creation in Scripture is that the entire universe is subject to a code of law which was established at the beginning of time. This idea has two major implications for our view of the world: (1) nature functions with a high degree of autonomy (meaning literally, “having its own laws”); and (2) the natural world is comprehended by God and therefore comprehensible to human beings created in the divine image.

Frequently we think of creation as having to do with the origin of the universe, but more often it is a statement about the nature and operation of the cosmos. The origin of the universe (or perhaps the multiverse) depends solely on the wisdom and will of God and hence may lie beyond human understanding, but its subsequent operation is autonomous by virtue of the laws God has given it. It can be understood by humans because of the fact that human reason is itself an image of the same divine reason that governs the world.

By using the phrase “relative autonomy” of nature, I mean the self-sufficiency nature possesses by virtue of the fact that God has granted it laws of operation. Like all laws, the laws of nature may come to be viewed as enslaving and inflexible, but, in their biblical sense, at least, they were viewed as liberating (from chaos) and life-giving. The autonomy of nature was therefore “relative” in the sense of being relational (to God), as well as in the sense of not being self-originate as God is.

The Old Testament and Second-Temple Judaism

As far as we know, the roots of this idea go back before the Old Testament (or Hebrew Bible) to the early stages of Mesopotamian civilization in the fourth and third millennia BCE. The Mesopotamians viewed the universe as a cosmic nation-state in which the wills of the various gods, like the wills of humans, were bound by common law. In a second-millennium revival of these ideas (the Enuma Elish or “Babylonian Genesis”), the Babylonian god Marduk was credited with having ordained laws for the stars (which were identified with the lesser gods). The writers of the Old Testament, particularly those associated with the Israelite monarchy, developed this tradition while stressing the unique sovereignty of Yahweh (Adonai), the God of Israel, and the complete subservience of all nature, both in heaven and on earth, to his command.³

Among the texts of the Old Testament contributing to the idea, Genesis 1 and Psalms 19 and 104 are particularly noteworthy. Day and night follow each other automatically once their alternation has been established by God (Gen. 1:5, 8b; Ps. 19:2); the sun rises and sets according to schedule (Gen. 1:16–19; Ps. 19:5–6; 104:19b); and new generations of plants and animals succeed each other without interference through the normal processes of reproduction (Gen. 1:11–12, 21–22, 24–25). Elsewhere in the Old Testament, lawfulness is attributed to the courses of the sun, moon, and stars (Jer. 31:35–36), the ebb and flow of the tides (Job 38:8–11), the alternation of seasons (Gen. 8:22), and even to meteorological phenomena like the wind, rain, and lightning (Job 18:25–27).

In a sense, the work of creation was complete after the work of the “six days.”⁴ Within the Old Testament understanding of time, however, wherever and whenever the beneficent effects of God’s mighty deeds were seen to continue, God’s foundational work was also viewed as continuing. Creating once and for all was also continual creation (creatio continua or creatio continuata; see Hermisson 1978, 50–51). In other words, the order of nature is a dependent or contingent order (Torrance 1981), and, like an executive decree, is subject to regular ratification or amendment by God. God can alter it when doing so would bring greater fulfillment of its ultimate ends. Such alteration would be contingent on the divine will, but would not be arbitrary.

The natural order is therefore not indifferent to human history and its final outcome. It is neither impersonal nor amoral; hence it is not to be set over against the freedom and responsibility humans experience in everyday life (Ps. 19; 93; 104). Any supposed order that might ultimately lead to chaos, anarchy, or injustice would not, in the biblical view, be true order. Hence, the upholding of natural order not only allows, but requires its emendation at points where irreversible damage may occur.

During the Second-Temple period (fifth century BCE to the first century CE), the Jews developed the idea of the relative autonomy of nature considerably, partly as the result of their dialogue with Greek natural philosophy. One of the earliest and best-known examples is Yeshua ben Sirah, who wrote the deuterocanonical book known as ben Sirach (or Ecclesiasticus) in the early second century BCE. Ben Sirah gives us a stunning description of the ceaseless regularity of natural rhythms:

When the Lord created his works from the beginning, and in making them, determined their boundaries, he arranged his works in an eternal order, and their dominion for all generations. They neither hunger nor grow weary, and they do not abandon their tasks. They do not crowd one another, and they never disobey his word.

(Sir. 16:26–28)

The stress here on nature’s obedience to God’s word was intended as a contrast to the foolishness of humans who disregard God’s (moral) laws, as the context makes abundantly clear (Sir. 16; 17). The contrast between the obedience of the luminaries and the rebelliousness of humans was made even more explicit in an early segment of 1 Enoch, and it reappeared in the Testament of Naphtali, the Psalms of Solomon, and the Dead Sea Scrolls.⁵

The important point here is that the Hebrew view of nature was neither impersonal nor amoral. As God’s creature, nature had laws of its own, hence a degree of autonomy and comprehensibility. And, unlike humans, nature had not violated the laws God set for it; hence it had not taken on the kind of irrationality we often associate with human behavior. Even those aspects of nature that threatened human safety were not lawless in themselves. They served God’s purposes and had laws of their own, even if unknown to humans (Job 28:25–27). Hence they were open to human comprehension, at least in principle.

The idea of the comprehensibility of the natural world was reaffirmed in the New Testament, particularly in passages that portrayed Christ as the foundation of the cosmos who united all things in heaven and earth (Matt. 28:18; 1 Cor. 8:6; 15:24–28; Eph. 1:10, 20–23; 4:8–10; Phil. 2:9–11; Col. 1:15–20; Heb. 1:2–3). Christ’s work was viewed in this respect as a renewal and perfection of the order in the original creation.

The Autonomy of Nature: Basil of Caesarea to John Buridan

In order to illustrate the idea of the relative autonomy and comprehensibility of the natural world in patristic thought, I turn now to Basil’s sermons on the hexaemeron, or “work of the six days,” as described in Genesis 1. Like most early Christian authors, Basil assumed that the “six days” in question were figures of speech. He followed Philo and Origen in regarding all things as having been created at the first instant of time and remaining in a steady state thereafter.⁶

While Basil is only one of many early Church figures we could examine, he is perhaps the most representative and certainly the most influential. His formal training included the classical Greek arts and sciences as well as monastic spiritual discipline. Consequently, he was well suited to provide a paradigmatic synthesis of Christian and classical learning. Moreover, Basil was a pivotal figure in all of the major areas of early Christian thought and practice. He was a devoted servant of the Church, the leading bishop of the Eastern Church after Athanasius. He was one of the founders of cenobite monasticism, the movement which was to transmit classical and patristic learning to the medieval West. He was the chief architect of post-Nicene (or neo-Nicene) orthodoxy concerning the doctrine of the Trinity. Finally, Basil’s hexaemeral sermons were the principal textbook on science and Scripture through the early middle ages and were still one of the two sources recommended by John Calvin, the other being Ambrose, who was himself dependent on Basil (Institutes of the Christian Religion I.14.20).

Basil delivered his sermons on the hexaemeron on five successive weekdays to a congregation of artisans on their way to and from work. At the time (during the 360s), he was still a presbyter at Caesarea, and his responsibilities included what we would call “Christian education.” He was keenly interested in the meaning of Christian faith for secular life in this context.

Perhaps the best example of Basil’s views is his comment in the fifth sermon on Genesis 1:11, the text of which reads as follows: “Then God said, ‘Let the earth put forth vegetation, plants yielding seed, and fruit trees of every kind on the earth that bear fruit with the seed in it.’” Basil first noted the wisdom of the basic order of the text: first pasture-land vegetation; then fruit trees. In other words, each spring the grass turns green before the trees bear fruit. This order, once given, he notes, is followed by the earth to this day, and will continue for all time:

For the voice that was then heard and this command were as a natural and permanent law [nomos physe

s] for it; it gave fertility and the power to produce fruit for all ages to come.

(Hexaemeron V.1; Schaff and Wace 1890–1900, VIII:76a)

Ambrose of Milan wrote a Latin paraphrase of Basil’s Hexaemeron which used the phrase lex naturae (“law of nature”) at this point (Hexaemeron V.6.16), and this concept became commonplace in Western discourse long before its more specialized use in modern science.

In order to appreciate the force of Basil’s argument about the continuing effect of God’s command, recall that Aristotle restricted all natural terrestrial processes to linear motion. Fire rose up to the sky, while earth fell down, but both naturally moved in straight (vertical) lines. The cyclical phenomena of nature, on the other hand – Aristotle called them cycles of “generation and corruption” – were not natural: they were forced by the circular motion of the heavens, particularly by the sun.⁷ For Basil, however, the cycles of nature were imposed on the earth by the command of God, not by the motion of the sun along the ecliptic. Basil thus eliminated the hierarchical subordination of earth to the heavens and established each process as being “natural” in that it manifested its own God-given law.

In concluding his homily on Genesis 1:11, Basil returned to the theme of the relative autonomy God had granted to nature by his command and, in so doing, gave a classic example of what later became known as the concept of impetus or momentum:

It is thi...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title page
• Copyright page
• Acknowledgments
• Notes on Contributors
• Introduction
• Part I: Historical Episodes
• Part II: Methodology
• Part III: Natural Theology
• Part IV: Cosmology and Physics
• Part V: Evolution
• Part VI: The Human Sciences
• Part VII: Christian Bioethics
• Part VIII: Metaphysical Implications
• Part IX: The Mind
• Part X: Theology
• Part XI: Significant Figures of the Twentieth Century in Science and Christianity
• Index