PART 1 OF THIS series reviewed the shock that rocked the Christian world when scientific discovery began to challenge the Ptolemaic world view, which conceived of the universe as geocentric. The church had placed itself in an untenable position by officially prohibiting the teaching that the earth moved about the sun.
Where did the church err? What should the role of religion have been in that time of sudden change? To determine this we must examine what many believe are the three main kinds, spheres, or domains of knowledge. These are science, philosophy, and religion—each with its method— each with its definite limits. For there are questions for science, and questions science cannot answer—questions for philosophy, and questions philosophy cannot answer—questions for religion, and questions religion cannot answer.
Let us first investigate and define science. The characteristics of all sciences are that they are investigative. They look into things, turn up data that are not a part of the common experience of mankind. By common experience is meant the experience that you and I, our ancestors, our children, and men of all ages and all places have commonly. For instance, if it were to suddenly thunder outside, everyone, without looking, would know that a storm was near. The sound of rain falling would be recognized by all. You wouldn't have to see a book fall; the sound of its impact would tell you what had happened.
Science deals with the periphery—that outside the common experience of mankind—that which is seen through a telescope or microscope, photographic film or nuclear reaction. Science is investigative—it sticks to facts. Rea son serves sense—and sense serves observation, the critical factor. Because of this factor— because this is the method of science—science is limited to describing. As a result, there are a host of questions that science cannot answer. As an example, consider the very simple question of what it means to exist—what is existence. You can answer this question by thinking, but not by looking. There is no conceivable way of obtaining data that could be used in the scientific method.
Science cannot answer a single question of value. It cannot answer the question in order of good or bad, right or wrong. It cannot tell you what human happiness is, what the goals of life are—cannot describe a good society, or a just form of government. And as long as science remains science, it can never answer these questions. They are beyond the competence of scientific inquiry. Science is morally neutral.
Philosophy, on the other hand, makes use of the common experience of mankind. Where science requires elaborate equipment, the philosopher needs only his mind—and an armchair. He can sit in a dark room and accomplish his purpose by thinking. And what is he thinking about? He is not trying to expand our experience. Rather, he is trying to describe— in terms of the simplest experience—what lies behind it all. Philosophy is concerned with the what, the why of reality, and the causes of things—the underlying existence.
The very questions science can not answer, philosophy can. It answers the questions of value, of right and wrong, of good and bad. The philosopher can give demonstratively valid, certifiable answers to questions about human happiness and the nature of man, the orders of good and the virtues of duty. He can demonstrate that democracy is, in terms of justice, the only perfectly just form of government. He can solve the problem of the conditions of war and peace. These are questions that are philosophical, but totally untouchable by the methods of science.
Now, where does religion come into the picture? There is no distinction possible between religion on the one hand, and science and philosophy on the other, unless that distinction is made in the separate realms of faith as op posed to reason. Science and philosophy are both knowledge— obtainable by the exercise of man's natural faculties of knowing —his mind, his senses, and his reason. If religion is nothing but some other form of inquiry using man's natural abilities, then you can reduce it to one of the other two.
For religion to be distinct it must consist of knowledge that man receives but does not acquire by his own efforts—and this is the definition of revelation. A true religion does not claim to acquire its knowledge by investigation, rational analysis, or historical re search. Religion claims to have it as a gift from God.
Take a very simple example— the question of whether the world had a beginning. Neither philosophy nor science can answer this question. It is impossible to obtain proof by reason or investigation. But you can get an answer through God's revelation, as we find it recorded in Genesis 1:1, "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth." If you have an answer to this question, then you have it through religious faith, and this faith is the cornerstone of religion. It is faith that separates it into the third department of knowledge. Following Christ as a great moral teacher, and living, even imitating His exemplary character, is not religion; it is moral philosophy.
The utility of science lies in its productivity. Philosophy is used in defining good and bad, in establishing values. But what is the utility of religion? Where can we find the characteristically distinct feature, practically speaking, of religion? The answer is very simple —it is in help from God, who can help you as no man can. Help for the sins of yesterday, the problems of today, the unknowns of tomorrow—help when all others fail, when the mind and body become overburdened, help in the promise of eternal life. This is the role of religion in a scientific age—to bring this help to the members of your church, your community, your world.
Three distinct bodies of knowledge—science, philosophy, and religion—each with questions it can and cannot answer, each with a utilitarian purpose. If we again examine each, we find that the questions philosophy can answer are more fundamental than those of science, and those of religion are more fundamental still. In other words, religion is supreme. Once the distinction between the three is realized, there is no need for conflict. Furthermore, any well-rounded, healthy culture re quires that all these cultural parts —science, philosophy, and religion—be independent of one another, distinct, and well ordered, harmoniously related.
Unfortunately, this is not always true, for these bodies of knowledge tend to be cannibalistic by nature. Each of the departments of learning has been guilty of attempting to devour the others at some period during the history of the Western civilization. In the Middle Ages the disorder was theologism. The theologian developed the impression that he could answer all questions. His attitude was that any question he could not answer wasn't worth answering in the first place.
The peculiar character of our age is scientific. Today we find science being regarded by some as also a philosophy and a religion. Science is attempting to answer questions that properly belong to the other two departments. As an example, consider the question of the beginning of the world, previously mentioned as one only religion could answer. Today we find science attempting to answer this question, using the methods of science—answers that are in conflict with the teachings of religion.
The result of this avaricious appetite for recognition in all fields of knowledge is anxiety, confusion, bewilderment, and some times frustration in the minds of Christians today. Some are falling away because they look upon religion as old-fashioned, outdated, straight-laced, unbending. Others attempt to bend Biblical truths to fit scientific hypotheses, as did some of the members of my junior Bible class who attempted to explain that the days of Creation were probably long periods of time.
The Role of Religion
What is the role of religion in this infringement upon its domain? Concede that possibly science is right and that we should re-ex amine Biblical interpretation? Bluntly state that science is all wrong, and should be completely ignored? Or perhaps turn our backs on the whole affair, and state that it is just a passing fancy that will soon disappear?
To find a solution we must examine and keep in mind the methods of science. Remember that science uses the uncommon knowledge of man; it depends on data compiled through repeated observations and experiments, which are then used to formulate physical laws that can be used to explain certain phenomena. If a scientist wants to explain the origin of the world, he must take existing laws, and, making certain assumptions, extrapolate the data back to a beginning. And herein lies the fallacy—let me give you a simple example to demonstrate it.
To do this, I would like to have you perform a few simple arithmetic computations and then give me the answer. For the sake of simplicity, let's say that a man owns a car with a 12-gallon gas tank, and that he is driving on a highway where he can maintain a constant 60 miles per hour. At this speed his car gets 10 miles per gallon. If he starts driving at 8:00 A.M., at what time will he run out of gas? Twelve-gallon gas tank— 60 mph—10 miles per gallon. Did you calculate 10:00 A.M.? Well, you were wrong, because he actually ran out of gas at 8:15. You see, there were only two gallons of gas in his tank when he started —and the tank had a small leak. You were wrong, not in your calculations, but in the assumptions you made, the assumption that the tank was full and in perfect condition.
Herein lies the error of science. Consider the problem of determining the age of the earth. One of the methods used is radioactive dating. The radioactive element Uranium 238, through the spontaneous emission of nuclear particles, changes into ionium, which through further nuclear decay turns into radium, which decays into polonium—with the final end result being the stable element, lead. The scientist, knowing the half-life of each of the elements, can carefully determine the uranium-to-lead ratio in deposits, and estimate when the process began. Using this method, it is estimated that the world is 4.5 billion years old.
Erroneous Assumptions
But what assumptions did he make? First, he said that at the be ginning the only element in the deposit was uranium, i.e., the gas tank was full. Second, he assumed the rate of decay remained un changed—the gas tank had no leaks. And he must make these assumptions in using his method. He has no choice. Yet, nowhere can we find evidence that these assumptions are true. There is no place where we are told that the earth was originally in this condition. The same holds for geological dating methods. Again, in some cases the assumption is made that the earth began as a smooth ball, that changes were caused by natural processes such as erosion, sedimentation, faults in the crust, volcanic action, and the like, and that the present rate of change can be extrapolated back through time. Yet one catastrophic upheaval, such as the Flood, could change their calculations by billions of years.
Similarly, science, using its methods, must discount all miracles. According to physical laws it is impossible for the earth to stop rotating so that the sun would stand still in the heavens; it is impossible to part the waters of the Red Sea or the Jordan River; it is impossible for the sun to darken during midday unless there is an eclipse; it is impossible for water to turn to blood, or frogs to cover the land. It is impossible because it is against the physical laws that method dictates they must adhere to.
"Their God Is Too Small"
This is your role, the role of religion, in the scientific age. You must point these things out—and here you may well enlist the aid of Christian laymen who are versed in the sciences. Then you who are pastors and teachers should help your people overcome the problem so common to many, namely, that in the words of j. Phillips: "Their God Is Too Small." You should tell them again and again that their God is all powerful—that He has not only mediate power, working through natural means, but that His power also works immediately. He can produce a thing by willing it.
Tell them of a loving God, whose care for them hasn't changed just because of the scientific age. Tell them of a God who created the world and still controls it today, who gives to all men the knowledge they possess; who will, if necessary, establish bounds beyond which man cannot pass. Above all, tell them of a God who gave His only Son that they might live, a God who will give them the faith that they need through the work of the Holy Spirit.
We as laymen are not looking to the theologian for scientific answers. Leave the things of science to the men of science, the things of philosophy to the philosopher. We are looking to them for an explanation of God's Holy Word— the means whereby we can strengthen our faith. We want to see evidence of this faith in the conduct of their lives. Above all, we want to hear from their lips, spoken with firmness, confidence, and the deepest conviction, the words "Thus saith the Lord." That, in my humble opinion, is the role of the pastor and teacher and religion in the scientific age.
(Concluded)
