Science and Christianity E-Book

J. B. Stump

• Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 423

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

Science and Christianity is an accessible, engaging introduction to topics at the intersection of science and Christian theology. * A philosophically orientated treatment that introduces the relationship of science to Christianity and explores to what extent the findings of science affect traditional Christian theology * Addresses important theological topics in light of contemporary science, including divine action, the problem of natural evil, and eschatology * Historically oriented chapters and chapters covering methodological principles for both science and theology provide the reader with a strong foundational understanding of the issues * Includes feature boxes highlighting quotations, biographies of major scientists and theologians, key terms, and other helpful information * Issues are presented as fairly and objectively as possible, with strengths and weaknesses of particular interpretations fully discussed

Leseprobe

Science and Christianity

An Introduction to the Issues

J. B. Stump

This edition first published 2017 © 2017 John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Stump, J. B., author. Title: Science and Christianity : an introduction to the issues / J.B. Stump. Description: Hoboken : Wiley, 2016. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2016005809 (print) | LCCN 2016012955 (ebook) |    ISBN 9781118625279 (cloth) | ISBN 9781118625248 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781118625361 (pdf) |    ISBN 9781118625132 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Religion and science. | Christianity. | Theology. Classification: LCC BL240.3 .S79 2016 (print) | LCC BL240.3 (ebook) |    DDC 261.5/5—dc23

LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2016005809

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Cover image: GettyImages / ©Spencer Black

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Science, Christianity, and the systematic study of their interaction

Features and outline of this book

1 Conflict and Independence

1. Ways that science and Christianity might be related

2. Conflict

3. Independence

4. Two Books

Further reading

References

2 Christianity and the Origin of Modern Science

1. The handmaiden of theology

2. Christianity's role in the rise of modern science: Twentieth-century views

3. Recent developments

Conclusion

Further reading

References

3 Secularization

1. Scientists and religious belief

2. Broadening the definition

3. A secular age

Conclusion

Further reading

References

4 Young Earth Creationism and Intelligent Design

1. Setting the stage for Young Earth Creationism

2. Today's Young Earth Creationism

3. Intelligent Design

4. Irreducible complexity and information

Further reading

References

5 The Bible

1. Two Books vs.

sola scriptura

2. Interpretation

3. What kind of inspiration?

4. Science and the Bible

Further reading

References

6 Methodological Naturalism

1. Defining methodological naturalism

2. Duhem and the aims of science

3. Methodological naturalism and the problem of demarcation

4. Reasons for abiding by methodological naturalism

Further reading

References

7 Natural Theology

1. Classic arguments of natural theology

2. Objections to natural theology

3. Natural theology for the 21st century

Further reading

References

8 Cosmology

1. Big Bang cosmology

2. Fine tuning

3. The multiverse

Conclusion

Further reading

References

9 Evolution

1. Evolution and the Bible

2. Creation through randomness and death

3. The uniqueness of human beings

4. Consonance between evolution and Christianity

Further reading

References

10 Divine Action

1. The development of deism

2. Miracles

3. Non-interventionist objective divine action

4. Alternatives for explaining divine action

Further reading

References

11 Mind, Soul, and Brain

1. The Christian tradition of the soul

2. Descartes and dualism

3. Challenges to dualism

4. Cognitive dualism

Further reading

References

12 The Problem of Natural Evil

1. Articulation of the problem

2. Some potential responses

3. A more robust theodicy

4. Eschatological fulfillment

Further reading

References

Conclusion: The Last Things

Three understandings of the last things

The fourth big bang?

Conclusion

References

Timeline of Historical Figures Discussed

Glossary

Index

EULA

List of Illustrations

Chapter 1

Figure 1.1

Three Maps of the Moon

, 1637, by Claude Mellan. These engravings show three different phases of the moon in the kind of detail made possible by the telescope. Source: Abbeville, Musée Boucher de Perthes.

Chapter 2

Figure 2.1

Antique Chinese spoon compass. Source: © Hans-Joachim Schneider/Alamy.

Chapter 4

Figure 4.1

Wasp larvae eating their way out of a caterpillar. Source: Courtesy of Kevin Collins.

Chapter 6

Figure 6.1

Willard Van Orman Quine (1908–2000). One of the most important philosophers of the 20th century. Source: © President and Fellows of Harvard College.

Chapter 8

Figure 8.1

Wavelengths of the electromagnetic spectrum.

Chapter 9

Figure 9.1

The Three-tier Universe. Drawn by Kenneth Kully.

Figure 9.2

Skull shapes of

Homo

species.

Chapter 10

Figure 10.1

William Perkin's diagram from

A Golden Chain

, which organizes all Christian doctrines according to Calvin's theology of election and reprobation.

Figure 10.2

John C. Polkinghorne.

Chapter 12

Figure 12.1

Irenaeus of Lyon.

Guide

Cover

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Acknowledgments

There are many people who have contributed to the completion of this book. The staff at Wiley-Blackwell have once again been a pleasure to work with. This project spanned a time when there was some turnover in the editor's chair from Jeff Dean to Deirdre Ilkson to Marissa Koors. I was pleased to work with all of them, as well as the very able staff who saw this project through to completion.

Almost all of the work for this book was conducted while I was a faculty member at Bethel College (Indiana). A summer research grant was helpful in writing several chapters. I was able to teach an upper-level course on science and religion to a group of high-capacity students, during which the topics for many of these chapters were explored. Thanks to the library staff who encouraged me and always went the extra mile in securing resources. Several of the chapters here were used as a class project by Prof. Jennifer Ochstein's editing class; I appreciate their careful reading and eye for detail. Huge thanks are due to Mahala Rethlake, one of the significant success stories of the Bethel philosophy department, who gave a careful editing pass and formatted the entire manuscript. My former colleagues in the religion and philosophy department remain a source of constant encouragement, stimulation, and enjoyment. Special thanks to Terry Linhart, the chair of the department, for his support and friendship through some rocky times. And I am especially grateful to Chad Meister, with whom I have spent countless hours over coffee discussing these (and many other) topics. The fact that I am no longer employed at Bethel does not take anything away from the positive experiences I had there.

The BioLogos Foundation has provided an enriching environment for me the last couple of years. Through my work there I've been fortunate to rub shoulders (both electronically and in person) with some of the leading voices in the dialogue between science and Christianity. President Deb Haarsma has been uniformly supportive (and understanding when the lines demarcating my jobs became blurry). The graciousness with which she approaches the dialogue between science and Christianity should be a model for all.

Finally, my family must be acknowledged. My parents are not academics in the professional sense, but my father, Ron Stump, started his career as a science teacher, and I am very thankful for the orientation toward the natural world he provided. My mother's side of the family did have some academics, and I'm sure that much of my penchant for introspection comes through her—Nancy (Ummel) Stump. Both sides of the family passed down their Christian heritage and provided the categories through which I was introduced to theology. I am so proud of my sons, Casey, Trevor, and Connor. I love it when they want to discuss the topics I research and write about; but I love it even more when they teach me about the things they are most interested in. My wife Christine gets her own page immediately following.

To my wife Christinefor faithfully and cheerfullyaccompanying me on this journey.I couldn’t ask for a bettertraveling companion.

Introduction

In the last few decades of the 20th century, a widespread scholarly interest developed in issues related to science and religion. This interest has shown no signs of abating, as conferences are organized, books written, and even university departments are now being formed. The academic field is maturing as the second generation of scholars in this field reflects on the seminal work of the founding generation. One of the implications of the maturing of the field is the need for a more fine-grained analysis of the issues. So instead of more general works on science and religion, this book introduces the relationship of science to Christianity.

Of course, there are some commonalities among religions with respect to their interactions with science, but as we get into specific doctrines it is the differences in both the sciences and in the various world religions that become important after a basic introduction to this fascinating interdisciplinary field. For example, the nature of God in Christian theism is very different from the understanding of God or gods in Hinduism or of ultimate (non)reality in some forms of Buddhism. And even within the traditional monotheistic religions which affirm the same creator God, there are significant discrepancies in understanding how God relates to the natural world and how God has revealed the divine nature to humans.

Focusing more narrowly on Christianity is not at all to suggest that it is the only relevant religion in dialogue with science. Other books should be written (and are being written) on Buddhism and science or Islam and science, etc. These religions have their own histories and methodologies and should be accorded the respect that is due them rather than trying to subsume them under a generic heading and discussion of religion, or by giving them a paragraph or two of attention in a work that is in reality discussing Christianity. It is a fact that Christianity has been the dominant religious system that has interacted with the sciences throughout history—a fact that is explored in the book.

But now I want to be clear that this book is not a work of Christian apologetics. I am not arguing for the truth of Christianity (or of any particular scientific theory, for that matter). Rather, I will attempt to present the issues as fairly and objectively as possible, discussing the strengths and weaknesses of particular interpretations. Undoubtedly there are places where my own biases shine through, but I'm not trying to advocate for specific positions.

The study of science and Christianity draws from a number of different disciplines. Besides the obvious ones of the various sciences and Christian theology, history has a prominent place in my exposition of these topics. Fundamentally, though, this is a philosophically oriented treatment of science and Christianity. Lines of demarcation are notoriously difficult to draw, but in the strict sense of the term, the scholars engaged in research in this field are not scientists (at least qua researchers in this field). That is, they are not conducting experiments or even writing up the results of empirical discoveries for journals like Nature or Science. Some scholars in this field have done those things, but those are contributions to science, not to the discipline of science and Christianity. Instead, in this discipline they are reflecting on the results of science, particularly with respect to the claims of Christian theology. Nor are the science and religion scholars playing the part of the theologian—though the lines are somewhat less distinct in this case. Again, the job of scholars in the field as I understand it is to reflect on the work of theologians as it relates to scientific discoveries. So in this sense, they are doing a philosophy of science and Christianity. It is in that vein that I write about the field.

Science, Christianity, and the systematic study of their interaction

The history of science's interaction with Christianity is dependent on the histories of the subjects considered individually. It is not too difficult to give a starting point to Christianity: there is little doubt that Jesus of Nazareth lived in the first third of the 1st century CE, that he was put to death by the Roman government around 30 or 33 CE, and that his disciples believed him to have resurrected from the dead. Originally, Christians were a sect of Jews who believed Jesus to be their long-awaited Messiah, but they increasingly became a distinct religious group in the 1st century as Gentiles were invited to join the movement. After 70 CE when the Romans laid siege to Jerusalem and destroyed the Jewish temple, Jews and Christians largely went their separate ways. Christians themselves suffered through periods of intense persecution from the Roman government, but within a few centuries they became the dominant religious group of the Roman Empire, and hence of what is known as Western civilization.

The birth of science is more difficult to pinpoint. The English word “science” comes from the Latin scientia, but this was used to refer to a wide range of knowledge, certainly outside the parameters of what we would consider science today. Closer to our conception of science is what was called “natural philosophy.” Natural philosophers were those who studied the natural world, as opposed to moral philosophers, who studied ethics. The methods of natural philosophers were varied, and so in 1834 the Cambridge University professor William Whewell (1794–1866) coined the term “scientist” to distinguish the empirical approach of some researchers from the more general “natural philosophers.” It is this usage that has become standard.

However, if we were to consider the relationship of Christianity with science only as it has been understood since 1834, we would be omitting much that is relevant to our study here. As far back as we have written records, human beings have been asking questions about the world around them. Perhaps beginning with the ancient Greeks, we find the attempt to give answers in terms of what we today call natural causes, as opposed to the supernatural causes invoked by mythologies and religions. In that sense we can consider the relationship between Christianity and the science (or proto-science) of providing natural explanations.

It should be acknowledged that the religion of Christianity and the practice of science are much more encompassing social practices than merely systems of beliefs. It might be argued that the rituals associated with Christianity are more important and defining for the religion as a whole than are the beliefs. Likewise increasing attention has been given since the previous generation of philosophers of science to the non-cognitive dimensions of the scientific enterprise. The relations of these social dimensions need to be explored, but our focus in this book is on the cognitive dimensions of science and Christianity. More specifically, what are the beliefs of each that intersect? What are the methods of inquiry, and how do these interact?

This kind of study has been more systematically pursued since the 1960s and 1970s. Ian Barbour is generally taken to be the godfather of the academic discipline of science and religion. His 1966 book Issues in Science and Religion was the starting point for a generation of scholars who began to reflect more seriously on the relationship between science and religion. Soon after Barbour, along came Arthur Peacocke and John Polkinghorne. The three of them form the triumvirate of scientist theologians who had that rare combination of knowing science from the inside along with being able to reflect upon it insightfully with respect to religion. They have been a foundational source for the science and religion scholars of today.

The significant growth of the academic discipline of science and religion in the past generation has an economic causal factor. The John Templeton Foundation gives millions of dollars each year to a wide variety of research programs in science and religion. Nearly everyone working in the field has benefited from this largesse.

Features and outline of this book

Each chapter of this book is separated into numbered sections. The numbers are keyed to the “Questions to be addressed in this chapter” box at the beginning of each chapter, and to the “Summary of main points” box at the end. These are not designed to reduce the complexity of the material into easy bullet points but to help in dividing up the content of each chapter into more manageable chunks.

There are ample boxes throughout the text that provide longer quotations from important sources, more detailed explanation of key concepts, and some pictures. It is hoped that these are enriching resources and not distracting. At the end of the text is a timeline of the historical figures discussed in the book and a glossary that provides definitions for specialized terminology. Terms included in the glossary are printed in bold font in the text. And all Scripture quotations are taken from the NRSV translation unless otherwise indicated.

Each chapter also includes a short annotated list of resources for further reading on that subject. This book loosely tracks many of the topics of The Blackwell Companion to Science and Christianity, which I edited with Alan Padgett in 2012. Many of the articles there provide good next steps for exploring the topics introduced here.

Chapters 1 through 3 function as a kind of unit. They deal with the ways in which science and religion (particularly Christianity) have been related, and offer some historical episodes as illustrations of these. Chapter 1 considers the extreme relationships of conflict and independence, and it is not too hard to find instances of these throughout history. But there are also nuances to these positions that ought to be considered as well. Chapters 2 and 3 present what I think are among the strongest cases historically of science and Christianity directly and substantially influencing each other. For Christianity influencing science, the best case is in the very founding of modern science; we look at the case for and against that in Chapter 2. For science influencing Christianity (at least on the largest scale), we look to the thesis of secularization: has science caused the secularization of society? This is the topic of Chapter 3. Then Chapter 4 is also historical in a sense, though dealing with the more recent history of Young Earth Creationism and the Intelligent Design movement.

Chapters 5 and 6 address foundational topics that underlie much of the dialogue about Christianity and science. Christians can't do without the Bible (Chapter 5), and most scientists feel they can't do their jobs properly without methodological naturalism (Chapter 6). We'll see in both these cases that there are methodological approaches that are profitable for the dialogue, and approaches that can stop any productive dialogue.

Chapter 7 tackles natural theology, which has been one of the chief points of interaction between science and Christianity. Besides some of the classical forms of natural theology, I look at a more popular contemporary version many call the “theology of nature.” Chapter 8 covers what was often the focal point of science and religion discussions in the previous generation: cosmology—including the Big Bang, fine tuning, and the multiverse. Today, evolution has moved into the most prominent position for discussion. It is the subject of Chapter 9.

Chapters 10 and 11 focus on interaction problems. The first is how God interacts with the world, or what is often called “divine action.” It is sometimes described by analogy with interaction of human minds and bodies, though some might claim such an analogy does little to clarify the situation. This human interaction problem, along with the theological implications of the soul, forms the subject of Chapter 11.

If God is understood as interacting with the world, then questions inevitably arise about why more evils aren't prevented. Especially with what we now understand as an unfathomably long history of animal pain and suffering, the problem of natural evil is particularly acute. It is addressed in Chapter 12. Many attempts at explaining natural evil appeal to a final promised state in which individuals—both human and animal—who have wrongly suffered will find ultimate fulfillment. The conclusion of the book reflects and speculates on the end times as understood from the perspective of science and from Christian theology.

I hope that each of these chapters stands on its own, but there is also a sense in which I've tried to order them so as to pull the reader along from one topic to the next. If the book accomplishes nothing other than spurring further interest in these topics of science and Christianity, I will count it a success.

CHAPTER 1Conflict and Independence

In 1633, at the age of 70, Galileo Galilei—the famed mathematician and scientist from Pisa—was forced on threat of excommunication and possible execution to kneel before the Inquisitors of the Roman Catholic Church. He was given a prepared statement to read aloud which disavowed the work he had done the previous two decades. Of what heinous heresy was he suspected? Simply that the earth moved around the sun each year and turned on its axis every day.

When most people consider the way science and religion—or more specifically for this book, science and Christianity—have interacted, it is this story of Galileo and the Church that is taken as the paradigm. Over the centuries Christianity had developed a geocentric worldview that included the belief that the earth was immobile at the center of the universe, and all of the celestial objects circled it. This cosmological picture was primarily informed by Aristotle's physics and Ptolemy's astronomy, but the Church could also appeal to verses in the Bible that were most naturally interpreted as supporting the earth-centered cosmos. That led to some fireworks.

Today, the popular understanding is that the Galileo episode was a straightforward conflict between science and Christianity in which the Church was more concerned with protecting its tradition and authority than with discovering the truth. As might be expected, the real story is more complicated than this. We consider it further in this chapter, along with several other episodes that illustrate the complex relationship between science and Christianity.

The aim here is not to provide a full-blown history of science and Christianity, nor is it to prescribe how these two influential enterprises in society should interact today. More modestly, this chapter aims to illustrate and explain some of the ways that science and Christianity have in fact interacted. Before looking at these, it will be helpful to discuss a few of the classification systems that have been used to organize the topic.

Questions to be addressed in this chapter:

What are the ways that scholars organize the relationship between science and Christianity?

What was the conflict between Galileo and the Church?

How can science and Christianity be seen as independent forms of inquiry?

What is the Two Books metaphor?

1. Ways that science and Christianity might be related

As long as science and Christianity have been around, people have written about them and their relationship, but systematic reflection on these topics by a community of scholars is a fairly recent phenomenon. It has only been for the last generation or so that “Science and Religion” has been a distinct academic discipline with its own journals and university degree programs. The godfather of this movement has been Ian Barbour (1923–2013). His book Issues in Science and Religion (1966) is a thorough overview of the relevant topics, and it set the agenda for subsequent thinkers in the field. In that book and his Myths, Models and Paradigms (1974), he began developing a classification system for how science and religion can be related to each other. But it was his Gifford Lectures of 1989–1990 (Barbour 1990) where this typology was defended systematically.

Barbour's four categories are conflict, independence, dialogue, and integration. The first assumes that either the scientific or the religious way of acquiring knowledge is correct, and not both; thus, they are in conflict with each other. At the other end of the spectrum—the independence thesis—science and religion are completely separate and self-contained ways of knowing; as such, they operate in different spheres, and their claims neither conflict nor agree with each other. The dialogue model assumes that science and religion do impinge on each other at certain points, such as the origin of the universe, and so they ought to recognize the insights that each brings to these questions. Finally, the integration model pushes beyond mere dialogue between distinct disciplines and tries to effect a synthesis of science and religion; this can be seen in attempts to develop a theology of nature or in process theology where explanations are developed that draw from both the sciences and theology.

Barbour's four-fold typology of contemporary views for how science and religion may be related

Conflict:

science or religion can be victorious in their explanations, but not both

Independence:

science and religion each have their own sphere of inquiry and cannot conflict

Dialogue:

there is contact between science and religion at boundary questions, like the reason for the orderliness of the universe

Integration:

theological doctrines and scientific theories might be integrated into one coherent model, like a theology of creation

As might be expected, other scholars reflected on Barbour's work and offered critiques and modifications to his typology. Ted Peters (1996) expanded the list of categories, identifying eight different ways that science and religion interact. Christian Berg (2004) reorganized the typology completely, believing it more useful to look at the relationship between science and religion under the dimensions of metaphysics, epistemology, and ethics. Stenmark (2012) suggested that we should first consider the kind of jobs science and Christianity do. If they are trying to do the same job, then they are in competition; if they do completely different jobs, then they are independent of each other; and if their jobs are different but they overlap to some extent, then there will be points of contact between science and religion.

After Barbour, it might be argued that the next most influential scholar in framing the discussion of how science and religion are related is John Hedley Brooke. His Science and Religion: Some Historical Perspectives (1991) derives from detailed historical research the many facets of how science and religion have been related. The conclusion of his work is that the relationship between science and religion cannot be described under one general heading. This has come to be known as the Complexity thesis. Another contemporary historian of science, Ronald Numbers, is convinced of the complexity thesis, but sees the need to provide some midscale generalizations or patterns that might prove helpful in organizing and understanding the vast data and literature on the subject. To this end, he describes five trends in the ongoing relationship between science and religion: naturalization, privatization, secularization, globalization, and radicalization (Numbers 2010).

These ways of carving up the conceptual territory at the intersection of science and religion are all helpful. Undoubtedly there are even more ways to get at other nuances of the relationship. For our purposes in this chapter, it will suffice to look more generally at the relationship by considering historical examples of conflict and independence. The next two chapters address examples of influence on each other.

2. Conflict

Today's accepted narrative arc of how historians have understood the relationship between science and Christianity begins with the conflict thesis of John William Draper and Andrew Dickson White. Draper's History of the Conflict between Religion and Science (1896), first published in 1874, and White's A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology in Christendom (1922), first published in 1896, set the tone for how scholars thought about science and Christianity in the first half of the 20th century. On this view, Christianity is cast in the role of the oppressive and stultifying stepmother who held back the young, reasonable, and progressive maiden of science and kept her from flowering throughout the Middle Ages. Then science finally broke free from the oppressive Church, or so the story goes, and steadily added to our accumulated knowledge and quality of life.

John William Draper (1811–1882)

A chemist and physician, Draper was one of the founders of the New York University School of Medicine. His History of the Conflict between Religion and Science (1896), first published in 1874, was widely read and conditioned generations of people to view science and religion as competing explanations.

Andrew Dickson White (1832–1918)

White was a professor of history and English at the University of Michigan until 1863 and then joined with Ezra Cornell to found Cornell University. White became the university's first president. He published A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology in Christendom (1922) in 1896, which continued Draper's interpretation.

This account found sympathetic ears during the heyday of positivism early in the 20th century, and it gained enough traction in the wider culture so that even after the demise of positivism it is still common to hear science and Christianity being pitted against each other in warlike tones. Draper's words gave voice to the feeling that many still share today:

The history of Science is not a mere record of isolated discoveries; it is a narrative of the conflict of two contending powers, the expansive force of the human intellect on one side, and the compression arising from traditionary faith and human interests on the other. (Draper 1896, vi)

That Draper's and White's historical analyses have been severely criticized by contemporary historians of science is almost beside the point. The rhetoric of this view operates more at the level of talk show discussions, and the sensationalized story plays well within the broader culture.

Of course, even within academia it is not difficult to gather evidence from the pages of history that seems to lend support to the conflict thesis. Indeed, the marquee event of the relationship between science and Christianity appears to illustrate precisely the claim of Draper: Galileo's forced recantation before the Church. The story was introduced at the beginning of the chapter, but now let's look at it more closely.

In the early 17th century, Holland was famous for its industry of grinding glass into lenses. In 1609, Galileo heard that someone there had placed just the right lenses at either end of an enclosed tube and was thereby able to magnify threefold the image of objects seen at a distance. Galileo improved the design of what would come to be called the telescope and succeeded in achieving a magnification of twenty times. In late 1609, he pointed his telescope to the heavens and made several discoveries that challenged the picture of the universe the Church had held for centuries. He wrote up these discoveries and published them in 1610 in a pamphlet portentously titled, “The Starry Messenger: Revealing great, unusual, and remarkable spectacles” (found in Drake 1957). What did he see?

First, he saw that the moon was not a perfect sphere. The prevailing view was that all objects in the celestial realm had to be perfect spheres. But Galileo's moon appeared to have mountains and craters on its surface, just like the kind of irregularity we find in objects of the terrestrial region. Next, he reported seeing many more stars than were visible to the naked eye—ten times as many. His pamphlet included drawings of familiar constellations along with the positions of these additional stars. He also observed that the “Milky Way,” which presents itself to the naked eye as a uniformly cloudy substance, is diffused into “congeries of innumerable stars grouped together in clusters” (ibid., 49). Finally, and most importantly to Galileo's mind, he saw four bright dots around the planet Jupiter. Subsequent observations showed that these were not static relative to the planet but instead orbited around Jupiter. This undermined the belief that all celestial objects orbited the earth. Whether or not Jupiter orbited the earth, here were four celestial objects—originally called “stars”—that circled another body in the heavens. Later telescopic observations would include the phases of Venus, which are predicted by the sun-centered system, and sunspots, which speak to the imperfection of another “heavenly” body.

Figure 1.1Three Maps of the Moon, 1637, by Claude Mellan. These engravings show three different phases of the moon in the kind of detail made possible by the telescope. Source: Abbeville, Musée Boucher de Perthes.

The “Starry Messenger” clearly endorses the Copernican heliocentric model, but does not raise at all the theological questions that would trouble the Church. Reading the pamphlet today, it almost seems like Galileo didn't realize that his discoveries had any theological ramifications. He would soon be disabused of that idea. Over the next few years, conservative philosophers and clergy began arguing that Galileo was a heretic because he believed the earth moved while the Bible clearly indicated otherwise. Instead of engaging in a public dispute, Galileo attempted to counter these charges privately by writing long letters on the topic of the relationship of the Bible to science.

One of these letters was written in 1615 to the widow of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, Ferdinando de' Medici, one of Galileo's patrons, in whose honor Galileo named the moons of Jupiter. The letter has come to be known as the “Letter to the Grand Duchess Christina.” In it Galileo argued that while the Bible indeed should be taken as infallible when understood correctly it really has very little to say about matters of astronomy. Where it does mention things like the apparent motion of the earth, we should understand this as language that was accommodated to the people of the time and place in which it was written. Perhaps that argument by itself might have placated some, but Galileo argued in further ways that seemed to undermine the authority of scripture. He said, “I think that in discussions of physical problems we ought to begin not from the authority of scriptural passages, but from sense-experiences and necessary demonstrations” (ibid., 182). This was a direct challenge to the primacy the Church enjoyed as the caretaker of knowledge in all areas of life. The Protestant Reformation was still fresh in the minds of the Catholic Church leaders, and they were not going to let something like sense experience—let alone the sense experience delivered through a tube with lenses at either end—overturn what they knew to be true by revelation.

Galileo's letters were circulated widely, and the Church hierarchy felt that they needed to put a check on the momentum Galileo's position was gaining. In March 1616, the Congregation of the Index published a decree that declared false the idea that the earth moves. Galileo was issued a personal warning by Cardinal Robert Bellarmine (with the authority of the Inquisition) that he was not to hold or defend such a theory. Galileo was a good Catholic, believing that the Church held the fate of his eternal soul in its hands. So he complied until 1623, when Cardinal Maffeo Barberini became Pope Urban VIII. Barberini had been sympathetic to Galileo, so Galileo felt free to embark on a major project related to heliocentrism.

Geocentrism   [jee-oh-sen-triz-um]

The doctrine that the earth is the center of the universe.

Heliocentrism   [hee-lee-oh-sen-triz-um]

The doctrine that the sun is the center of the universe, and later that the sun is the center of the solar system.

Geokineticism   [jee-oh-ki-ne-ti-siz-um]

The doctrine that the earth moves around the sun.

It is only fair to note that the objections against heliocentrism were not exclusively theological. There were significant difficulties for the accepted physics of the day created by the supposition that the earth moves. Why can't we feel it? Why aren't there constant massive winds? Why don't projectiles seem affected by the motion of the earth beneath them? Such questions show that a major overhaul to the general belief system was needed if heliocentrism was to be accepted. Galileo set out to describe a comprehensive worldview that incorporated the new empirical discoveries within the framework of a new physics and a way of understanding them theologically. In 1632, he published a book as a dialogue between three characters, entitled Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems: Ptolemaic and Copernican (Galilei 1967). Galileo argued that the book did not violate the warning he was given in 1616, saying that the book does not really defend the thesis that the earth moves but merely presents some favorable arguments that are ultimately inconclusive. The Inquisitors saw it otherwise, and Urban VIII did not come to Galileo's defense. Ultimately, he was convicted of the “vehement suspicion of heresy,” forced to recant, and condemned to house arrest for the remainder of his life. The offending beliefs in particular were the cosmological thesis that the earth moves and the methodological principle that the Bible is not a scientific authority.

Galileo's forced recantation

“I, Galileo, son of the late Vincenzo Galilei, Florentine, aged seventy years, arraigned personally before this tribunal and kneeling before you, Most Eminent and Reverend Lord Cardinals Inquisitors-General against heretical pravity throughout the entire Christian commonwealth, having before my eyes and touching with my hands the Holy Gospels, swear that I have always believed, do believe, and by God's help will in the future believe all that is held, preached, and taught by the Holy catholic and apostolic Church. But, whereas—after an injunction had been judicially intimated to me by this Holy Office to the effect that I must altogether abandon the false opinion that the Sun is the center of the world and immovable and that the Earth is not the center of the world and moves and that I must not hold, defend, or teach in any way whatsoever, verbally or in writing, the said false doctrine, and after it had been notified to me that the said doctrine was contrary to Holy Scripture—I wrote and printed a book in which I discuss this new doctrine already condemned and adduce arguments of great cogency in its favor without presenting any solution of these, I have been pronounced by the Holy Office to be vehemently suspected of heresy, that is to say of having held and believed that the Sun is the center of the world and immovable and that the Earth is not the center and moves: Therefore, desiring to remove from the minds of your Eminences, and of all faithful Christians, this vehement suspicion justly conceived against me, with sincere heart and unfeigned faith I abjure, curse, and detest the aforesaid errors and heresies…”

Galileo recited the statement and then signed it with the following:

“I, the said Galileo Galilei, have abjured, sworn, promised, and abound myself as above; and in witness of the truth thereof I have with my own hand subscribed the present document of my abjuration and recited it word for word at Rome, in the convent of the Minerva, this twenty-second day of June, 1633.” (Santillana 1955, 312–313)

The scientific conclusion that the earth moves was certainly jarring to the mindset of 17th-century Christians. But perhaps more unsettling was the latter half of the charge—that the Bible should not be used as a scientific authority. It may be anachronistic to say “scientific” here, as our conception of science today is much narrower than the natural philosophy of the 17th century. Of course, the Bible does not contain mathematical formulas and discourses on atomic structures. But does it contain references to the natural world that are to be taken as infallible? When Joshua says that the sun stood still (Joshua 10) or the Psalmist that the Lord set the earth on its foundation and it can never be moved (Psalm 104), do these statements have implications for scientific theories? If so, there would definitely be conflict between the science of Galileo and the theology of orthodox Christianity. But the conflict goes deeper than that.

Galileo thought he was mitigating the potential conflict between his scientific theories and the Bible by adopting a hermeneutic strategy that asserts an independence of the two. In his “Letter to the Grand Duchess Christina” he stated, “the intention of the Holy Ghost [in the role of the Bible's author] is to teach us how one goes to heaven, not how heaven goes” (Drake 1957, 186). In reality, Galileo's attempt to pull the rug out from under the conflict only intensified it. The problem resulted not because he claimed that some things in the Bible were not to be taken so literally. That is a practice that had been accepted by the Church since its inception. For example, when God is described as a rock (2 Samuel 22), no one argues for a literal interpretation. The real source of conflict between science and Christianity in this episode was that Galileo, a scientist with only lay standing in the Church, was attempting to instruct others on how the Bible should be interpreted. That was the job of the Church leaders. And that was why Galileo was a threat and had to be reprimanded.

3. Independence

At other times in the history of science and Christianity, the two sides seemed content to go about their own business without interfering with each other. Some people have tried to make this approach normative for all interactions between science and Christianity. Just as Galileo said, science is trying to figure out how the world works, while the Bible—and Christianity more generally—is concerned primarily with the salvation of souls. These are independent practices and should be kept as such. Even White's Warfare book seems to recognize to some extent a legitimate place for religion, so long as it doesn't try to interfere with science. In the introduction to his work he states his thesis to be:

In all modern history, interference with science in the supposed interest of religion, no matter how conscientious such interference may have been, has resulted in the direst evils both to religion and to science, and invariably; and, on the other hand, all untrammeled scientific investigation, no matter how dangerous to religion some of its stages may have seemed for the time to be, has invariably resulted in the highest good both of religion and of science. (White 1922, viii)

White seems to say that if we just let science go about its business without interference from religion, then both science and religion will benefit. Such an approach is quite different from some of the anti-religion voices of today who call for the abolishment of religion. White claimed that the motivation for founding Cornell University was not to abolish religion but to separate it from the sectarian motivations that were too conspicuous in the other major American universities. He didn't want to have to consider, when hiring a professor of mathematics or language or chemistry, which religious sect to which he or she belonged. Such an approach, in his opinion, stymies advances in both scientific and religious knowledge. If religion would keep to its proper sphere—love of God and of neighbor—it would steadily grow stronger throughout the world (ibid., xii).

There are at least two ways we might understand science and Christianity to be independent of each other. The first is that they may both be investigating the same topic, but they have different methods of investigating and could arrive at different sorts of answers. These answers, however, should not be seen as competing but as different ways of describing the same thing, perhaps like a chemist and an artist might describe the same painting in very different terms without contradicting each other. An extreme version of this would be the theory of double-truth, which is usually attributed to Averroës, one of the most important Arabic thinkers of the Middle Ages.

Averroës (1126–1198)

Averroës, also known as ibn-Rushd, lived from 1126 to 1198. He was one of the most important Arab thinkers of the Middle Ages. He was a Muslim philosopher, physician, scientist, theologian, and scholar of the Qur'an, but his influence on subsequent Christian thought was significant and warrants inclusion here. In fact, Thomas Aquinas thought Averroës wrote the finest commentaries available on the works of Aristotle and referred to him simply as the Commentator.

Averroës's concept of double-truth was an attempt to reconcile the natural learning of humans with the supernaturally revealed truth of the Qur'an. These were viewed as two different “languages,” and we should not be surprised if they say different things. Apparently, some Christians in the 13th century understood Averroës to mean that two claims could both be true even if they clearly contradict one another. Averroës's actual position was more sophisticated than this, however. For him, the doctrine of double-truth meant that a claim could have different meanings at different levels of description—a literal philosophical meaning and an allegorical or figurative theological meaning. Averroës maintained that the Qur'an was written for the masses in allegorical language. So if natural philosophers discovered that the world is different from what the Qur'an seemed to be saying, he was sure the conflict was only with the apparent meaning of scripture. We can see an application of this in Christian theology in the subsequent century.

In 1210, Aristotle's works on natural philosophy were banned at the University of Paris because they were thought to contradict the teaching of scripture. By 1255, they were back on some reading lists, but authorities still attempted to ban certain ideas contained in them. One of the most prominent of these ideas was the eternality of the world. Of course, according to Christian theology, the world was created at some point in the past. But such an idea was difficult to square with the natural philosophy of the time, which was dominated by the Aristotelian understanding. (Indeed, it was not until the 20th century that the eternality of the world was seriously challenged by scientific evidence.) Could the doctrine of double-truth be used to affirm both of these? Siger of Brabant (1240–1284) was one of the vocal defenders of the Aristotelian view at the University of Paris who tried to do just that. He wanted to affirm the eternality of the world from the scientific perspective, even though it contradicted the teachings of the Church. But the Church would have none of that. In 1270, Bishop Stephen Tempier was persuaded by the more conservative factions to condemn thirteen articles drawn from Aristotle and Averroës. The condemnation seemed to have Siger in mind specifically. If science and religion were to be kept independent, this view of double-truth would not be the way to do it. But there is another version of independence to consider.

Instead of seeing science and Christianity as independent because they have different ways of talking about the same thing, one might attempt to confine science and Christian theology to different objects of study. In the wake of Tempier's condemnations, the arts faculty at the university (which included those studying natural philosophy) attempted to circumvent conflict with the theology faculty by having each of its members swear an oath to not even consider theological questions surrounding issues like the Trinity or the Incarnation