It might seem odd that an atheist
would post a "help-sheet" for believers who
have encountered difficulty in reconciling some
aspects of their faith with physical evidence.
Why wouldn't I, like some other disbelievers, simply
advise religious people to "give up and renounce
belief"? One reason is that I
was once a believer myself, so I understand the
strong hold and seeming comfort of religious belief,
and have experienced the frustration of trying to
blend it with modern scientific knowledge.
After all, it must be conceded that there are
intellectual and emotional motives for religious
belief, and while some of us have found viable
alternatives, others are more comfortable with a
traditional approach. Second, as a humanist,
I feel it's best to help others work out their
troubles in a way that appeals to them, so long as
doing so doesn't substantially conflict with the
overall well-being of our species. Though I
sincerely feel that if people were to shuck religion most would
ultimately discover doing so to be to their long-term advantage and
happiness, in most cases nothing will persuade
the faithful to shed their comfy cocoon of
belief. So, rather than wasting energy
shooting for the impossible, it's better to help
people the best we can within the framework of what's
realistically achievable. Finally, I have nothing
to gain by converting others. Being comfortably
secure in my disbelief, I feel no threat from
contrary views, and can even (if I put my mind to it)
discuss them with a degree of detachment. I am
content to let others believe or disbelieve as they will, so long
as they grant me the same courtesy. Aside from differences in
belief, we still have a great deal of common ground, and I feel it's
a good idea to help each other out when the opportunity arises.
Now, as to the business
of reconciling faith with fact, there are strategies which many
use successfully.
Because my own experience is with Christianity, the
methods I present are outlined in that context.
However, I suspect some of the methods will apply to
other religions as well, at least to those emphasizing supernatural entities or states of
existence. Nowadays, most
difficulties of belief spring from conflicts, sometimes within
religion itself, or between religious teaching and personal
conscience, but most often between
religious scripture and scientific theory. There are
various concepts of the source of religious
scripture, and these can be distilled into three
general views:
-
Scripture was
conceived and written solely by man, to
institute order and justice in society.
-
Scripture was
written by man, but he was guided and
inspired by God in this labor.
-
Scripture is the
product of the mind and hand of God alone,
without any help from man.
Because these views are mutually exclusive,
different approaches are necessary for resolving the difficulties
with each. I have arranged them order of increasing difficulty
of resolution, since the last is quite problematic, because its
resolution entails more thorough explanation and greater flexibility
of mind.
The First View:
Scripture as Solely the Product of Man
If we hold the first view, then there is little
point in proceeding further, for scientific discovery presents no
threat to existing beliefs as understood in this context. We may understand
the scriptures as the product of people who were
earnestly trying to explain things the best way they could,
considering that they lacked knowledge of modern science,
mathematics, and sociology. We may suppose
that scriptural laws were written with the intent of keeping
order in tribal nomadic and agrarian societies, that
the accounts of wars, migrations, and disasters were
written (much as they are today) portraying "the
good guys" (the scribe's boss and friends) in
the most favorable light, and "the bad guys"
(the competition) as unmitigated villains, agents of evil.
Prophets and messiahs were people attempting to update obsolete codes to the situations
and needs of the day.
And creation stories were satisfying tales
cooked up in order to "explain" that which
could not possibly be known with whatever might have passed for "science"
in those
times.
Under the first view,
we might either believe or disbelieve in divinity,
but regard scripture (not only Judeo-Christian, but
all other forms as well) as the imaginative product
of perhaps well-meaning but fallible men, of a time
and society in many ways quite different from our own.
Accordingly, we might judiciously sift the scriptures
for ideas that have continuing merit today, and
reject those that appear obsolete or even
harmful. And creation stories can be
appreciated for their entertainment value, for their historical
comparisons to other mythologies, as well as
for the insight they give us into the worldviews of
our ancestors.
The Second View:
Scripture as Written by Man but Inspired by God
This view is perhaps most
typical of today's religious mainstream. Here
most scriptural conflicts and omissions can be
plausibly attributed to human error. Prophets,
compilers, councils, interpreters, and scribes, confined to the
limited worldly knowledge of their own time and the
imprecision of human language, understandably failed
in some way to comprehend and express some of the
finer and deeper nuances of God's grand meaning and
purpose. An alternate possibility is that God
wisely refrained from telling our ancestors about
such things as precise mathematics and a spherical
earth, telescopes and microscopes, gunpowder and
nuclear power, television and computers, democracy
and capitalism, or relativity and biological
evolution, since such information would obviously
have bewildered the ancients beyond comprehension,
and the resulting confusion would have interfered with God's purpose
at the moment.
Although some
scriptural events and personalities appear to be
fictional, exaggerated, or misstated (e.g., Moses's
fabulous Red Sea crossing having occurred rather at
the Sea of Reeds—actually a swamp, not a real
sea—with consequently much less spectacle than
advertised), corroboration and dating for others (e.g.,
Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, Cyrus of Persia, and Herod
of Judea) by independent Persian, Roman, and other records is reassuring.
However, we're still
left with such discomfiting puzzles as how fossil
remains of hundred-million-year-old plants and
animals come to be found in rock strata, and how
images of galaxies billions of light-years distant
show up in telescopes, in a universe which scripture
purports to be only a few thousand years old. In
other words, although most scripture seems to fit in
passably with current evidence, the creation myths conflict directly with
actual observation and measurement. Many people
(even such authorities as the Pope) neatly skirt the
difficulty, by treating stories exhibiting such
incongruities as allegory—fiction, but with
important moral lessons relevant to other religious tenets and to the human
condition.
With this view, we can
accept scriptural laws as valid in the context of the
time in which they were written, and perhaps in our
own time with some updating (e.g., the
burning of witches and the stoning of heretics having
become unfashionable in the Western world).
Scriptural events, whether factual, embellished, or
purely fictional, may be read as lessons (updating
"swords" and "spears" to "guns" and "bombs" as
necessary for present day audiences). Creation
stories can be accounted for as allegorical fiction
providing a basis for morality in a form accessible and palatable to
the ancients. Such an approach works quite well
for many religious people, even for those whose
day-to-day lives bring them into routine contact with
the concepts of modern culture and science.
The Third View:
Scripture as the Literal and Inerrant Word of God
I've saved the
literal absolutist view for last, for it represents a
paradigm shift from what most people of the modern
age consider "common sense." In the
first two views, we examined attitudes which,
regardless of whether belief in deity is involved,
accept that the reality of the physical world is, for
practical purposes, pretty much as our senses and
reason tell us it is. The third view instead
purports to accept scriptural dogma literally and without question.
Whenever dichotomies arise between scripture and the
observed physical universe, it's the physical
universe which is questioned rather than
scripture. Particularly, the third view rejects
much observation, method, and thought developed since
the European Renaissance, especially scientific
evidence and reasoning which show that some aspects
of a literal interpretation of religious scripture
are inconsistent with what's actually
observed. Indeed, the literalist view places so
many obstacles between itself and what most of us
perceive as reality that genuine reconciliation is
probably beyond achieving without some capacity for compromise.
The unreachables
At the risk of sounding defeatist, we must concede
that among fundamentalists there are probably some groups that are
unreachable by any means other than divine (or demonic)
intervention.
On the one hand, there may be some who are
blissfully ignorant of any view but their own. To these I
would say nothing. As long as they're happy, see to their own
needs, and pose no threat or burden to others or society, let them
be. However, if they decide to pose a threat or burden, such
as by demanding that public funds be spent to support their sect and
promote their beliefs, or that civil law be used to impose their
policies and taboos upon everyone else, then that's a different
matter altogether. But while it's important that a pluralistic
society confront and deal with such an imposition, that issue is
outside the conciliatory scope of this article.
On the other hand, there are militant fanatics—they
can be found in most major faiths: Christianity, Islam, Judaism,
Hinduism, and perhaps some others. These are people who are
persuaded that a Higher Power has chosen them to wage war against
all infidels, which is to say anyone who doesn't believe as they do,
including dissenters in their own faith and the religiously
indifferent. They see as the purpose of science, not to
explain, create, and heal, but to cause death and destruction for
the glory of who-knows-what. It's very doubtful that any of
these would be reading this, or even if they were that they'd be
receptive to rational input. But if they were, we might offer
this:
If you hear a voice urging you to do harm to people
in God's name, consider that every day God himself gives life to
some and takes it away from others. He's the all-knowing and
all-powerful master of his craft, and thus not only doesn't need
your help in this, but would likely resent your presuming to
interfere. So, if you hear that voice, it's neither God nor
his messenger calling. It's a signal for you to go for
professional help, not to go on a crusade or jihad.
Hope for the less confused
Between the extremes of complacency and militancy, we
find a fair number of fundamentalists with some
inkling, if not of the methods of science, at least
of its practical importance. Though they might disagree strongly with some of the ideas
that have
come out of science, they nevertheless appreciate science's
reputation for providing reliable answers to many
questions, for its notable discoveries, and for its
development of workable ideas and helpful
inventions. Indeed, this often grudging
esteem for science is reflected in the term
"Creation Science," which
fundamentalists have applied to their (so far unsuccessful) attempts to reconcile
some of the discrepancies between creationist dogma and scientific
evidence. Other tactics have included attempts to portray
science as "just another belief
system," which utterly misses the crucial point that science's
views are derived from verifiable material evidence, coherent
reasoning, and rigorous independent testing, not from blind faith,
tradition, and emotional appeal. When such tactics have
consistently failed, most rationally thinking people would suppose
it's time to try a different approach.
Here are two strategies to address the problem.
(There might be more, but these are the only ones I've heard of that
are known to have been effective.) The first option is to keep
incompatible lines of thought separate, and the second is to find a
plausible way to identify and resolve the source of the
incompatibility. Neither is universally popular, but each has
worked for many people, and each person must decide which is the
most doable for himself. The first avoids the problem by
working around it, but is easier for many people. The second
solves the problem, but requires some serious thought to bring this
solution about. Some people start with one approach and end up
going with the other. And true, some might find that neither
works for them, but there's nothing to lose by trying. So,
take your pick.
Compartmentalization: an expeditious stopgap
remedy
In today's world, it's important to be able to
understand modern science. Whether or not we agree with how
science explains things, it's the way successful and educated people
understand what makes the natural world work, hence how they can
make its principles work for them, and thus how to become even more
successful. It makes possible modern developments that make
life in our time longer, safer, healthier, and more enjoyable than
in any previous era. If we want to know what makes stars
shine, we could satisfy our curiosity by asking either an astronomer
or an astrologer; but we'd get more precise and reliable information
from the former than from the latter. Likewise, if we want
improved transportation, we consult an engineer, not a
flying-carpet-weaver. If we want a cure for a disease, we go
to a medical research scientist, not to a witch-doctor. And if
we want a high-paying job, we train for competence in science and
technology, not for the priesthood. (Granted, the priesthood
has its own rewards, but they're hardly most people's first choice.)
Science, in short, is where people in our day and age go for results
in time of need. So, if we're result-motivated people, it's
important for us to acquire at least a cursory understanding of
current science.
Still, some people prefer to believe something else
for assorted reasons. Besides, science is all about the
workings of nature, and many of our deepest questions concern things
other than nature. One method of coping that some people have
found useful is called compartmentalization. As its
name implies, it's similar to organizing different things around the
home into different compartments—rooms, closets, or
drawers—near where they're most apt to be used. We keep the
cooking utensils and appliances in the kitchen, the bed and linens
in the bedroom and our wardrobe nearby, the comfortable furniture
and reading lights in the living room, and the vehicles and garden
tools in the garage. We keep things arranged and stored for
easy accessibility, and segregated to avoid an unfortunate mix-up of
incompatible items (such as beverages and drain cleaner).
But the kind of compartmentalization we're speaking
of here is a mental kind, which we can use to segregate incompatible
groups of ideas that we've found don't work well together.
Now, mental storage isn't a problem, since all ideas are
automatically stored in the brain's cerebral cortex. What we
have to remember when using ideas is to keep tasks involving
different groups of ideas separate. We don't do stonemasonry
while listening to chamber music, and we don't think about politics
while trying to prepare a meal. And unless we're extremely
foolish, we don't try to read or type while driving a vehicle.
We've good reason to separate different activities and trains of
thought: No matter how good we fancy we are at multi-tasking,
our senses and brains can process only so much information at once.
If we intermix categorically different ideas, especially if some of
them are complex., then we can't concentrate adequately on any one,
and either get confused in our thinking or sidetracked in our tasks.
So, if we want to do Bible study, it's best not to cross over at the
same time into questions of the physics and chemistry of nature, or
vice versa, especially if our view on one of these topics is out of
tune with our view on the other. A scriptural approach gets us
the answers we want if we're studying Joshua's siege of Jericho or
the prophecies of Jesus and Muhammad, but a scientific approach is
more apt to get us the information we need if we're prospecting for
oil or solving a crime. Of course,
compartmentalization requires a degree of vigilant self-discipline.
It doesn't work well for those in the habit of keeping all their
thoughts integrated around a comprehensive worldview. However,
it can be a pragmatic thinking aid to those who find they can mentally isolate
conflicting lines of thought and steer clear of any areas of
contentious overlap. Most people have this ability to some
degree. For example, movie-goers routinely temporarily suspend
disbelief while watching an action film, but snap back to reality
after the film is over.
The view from the mainstream: a solution that
works for millions
What most mainstream believers have come to realize
is that religion's apparent conflict is not with the institution of
science, but ultimately with the evidence that nature itself provides and that
science merely investigates. In other words, the fundamental
disagreement—if there really is one—would appear on its surface to
be between God's word and God's creation. We can't very well
dispute the hard material evidence of nature. Facts can often
be interpreted in different ways; but stripped bare of
interpretation, the raw facts themselves
remain what they are, and must be dealt with as such.
As to God's word, in scripture it's obviously
expressed in language. And language, howsoever sacred it may
be, isn't fact; it isn't a stone or a tree or a river.
Language is an interconnected sequence of ideas. Even very
precise language "gives" a little, depending on context, intent,
purpose, and degree of detail. In addition, significant shadings of meaning can
be mangled or utterly lost in translation from the original Hebrew
and Greek. Others, such as the similarity of the English words
"son" and "sun," can also appear, sparking curiosity but having no
real significance. So, if we assume that God would never
deliberately mislead us about what he's created, we must consider the intent and purpose of God's word within the context of
the created material world. We have to ask what God's reason
is for saying such-and-such when his word doesn't appear to
correspond literally to what verifiable evidence shows he's actually
created.
The answer that occurs to most mainstream believers
is that holy scripture obviously isn't about the workings of nature.
It's about God and man, and thus we can understand it correctly
only in those terms. For God to get his moral message
across to an ancient people who knew little except herding sheep and
goats or building mud brick huts, and who in the early days used
spoken word rather than writing for communication, it was helpful to
frame complex or abstract issues in terms of simple stories to which
Bronze-Age people could easily relate. This, of course,
immediately eliminates explanations involving biochemistry, germ
theory, nuclear physics, plate tectonics, relativity, universal
gravitation, and many other things that have always been part of
nature, but which weren't yet discovered or understood by men
thousands of years ago. So (if you'll bear with my speculation
for a moment), the psychological phenomenon of temptation could be
depicted, say, by a talking serpent, and the blossoming of human
moral awareness could be illustrated by a tree bearing magically
eye-opening fruit. Thus, complex or abstract concepts known
to adults in the modern era could be made adequately intelligible
even to children—or to ancient people who, though lacking any
knowledge of psychology or sociology, could easily relate to
familiar concepts of serpents and fruit trees.
What's obvious to the experienced and perceptive
Bible-reader is that, while some parts of the book are more-or-less
factual listings of genealogy and early law, the rest of it—even the
parts relating actual events—is primarily an
attempt to engage the minds, hearts, and consciences of human
beings. To this end, it often employs figurative language. For example,
when David says, "The Lord is my shepherd," he isn't literally
implying that he himself is a sheep. Rather, he's
metaphorically comparing the guiding and following, providing and
caring, protecting and trusting relationship between himself and his
flock to the relationship between God and himself. And when Jesus claims to be "the morning star,"
he isn't asserting that he literally is the celestial object
we now identify as the planet Venus. No one interprets the gospel
to mean that Jesus is actually a sun-orbiting planet, much less a
burning star in the firmament; for such a literal interpretation
would be absurd. The meaning which Jesus intends is that he has some quality like the morning star, such as
that he brings us light (enlightenment), or that his spirit has an
assigned place in Heaven, or perhaps both. The biblical
statement is clearly not literal truth, but metaphorical, using a
vivid physical image to convey a strong spiritual idea, to give
simple people a handle on
a concept that's too grand to assimilate all at once.
Likewise, many biblical stories, such as Jesus's
parables, are clearly fictional tales to teach various moral truths. Consider, if
he had actually encountered a man who'd been robbed and beaten by thieves, would
Jesus have waited a few hours, or even a few minutes, for a Samaritan to come
strolling along? Wouldn't Jesus, being merciful, have immediately helped the poor fellow himself?
Though generally based on what was perhaps a not uncommon occurrence
in those days, this story's particulars (the two respected community
leaders who pass by, and the Samaritan foreigner who stops to help)
were most likely made up in order to illustrate Jesus's point about
who one's neighbor truly is. When his questioner responds
correctly, Jesus then instructs him: "Go, and do thou likewise,"
meaning, Be a good neighbor to all, even to someone you might not
consider one of your own kind. Fiction, in the form of
parables, fables, and myth, is a valuable teaching tool for
conceptual truths that can otherwise be hard to grasp.
Indeed, there are entire books of scripture (such as Job and
Esther) in this category of enlightening and instructive fiction.
Genesis—The Beginning (of a world centered on a Jewish
awareness of God), is not about cosmology, geology, biology, or even
a specific chronology of events; it's about teaching moral lessons
to early man. It's intended to impress upon primitive people
the importance of obedience to God, without needlessly overloading
their brains with yet unheard-of concepts of gravity, genetics, and
meteorology. With such an understanding of the intent,
purpose, and context of Genesis, we can much more easily see why
figurative illustrations and fictional examples were important to
get God's message across to people with no prior knowledge of moral
conduct beyond natural and tribal instincts. Even Adam
(meaning "man") is a metaphor for primitive humanity!
It seems inescapable, then, that some
scripture, being metaphorical or fictional, is thus not literal truth
to be consumed verbatim.
We're supposed to think about it, to understand what real-world
lessons the Bible's illustrative and allegorical imagery has for the
rightness of our behavior. If instead we stubbornly contend that
what counts is the imagery itself rather than any underlying
implications, then we overlook the real importance of scripture
We forget that its purpose is not to conjure fantasies to impress
and entertain us as if we were children, but
to guide us as thinking adults in our consideration of duty, morality,
and justice. If we miss this truth, and instead fall to quibbling over the
physical origin of
the human species or the age of the universe, then we'll have missed the point
altogether. We'll have thrown out the baby and kept the
bathwater (metaphorically speaking, of course).
=SAJ=