"What passes for truth in science is a comprehensive pattern of interconnected answers to questions posed to nature-- explanations of how things work (efficient causes), though not necessarily why they work (final causes)." Owen Gingerich finds that physics never found a question that it didn't at least think it could answer, but that it eventually always runs up against metaphysics, which poses questions for which we do not expect to ever have definitive answers in this life. However, that does not keep him from trying!
Why is there something instead of nothing? Given that there is something, why does it take a form that includes sentient life? This is where Gingerich finds the theistic worldview more compellng than the atheistic, although both require faith. "Without quite knowing what the purpose of the universe is, we can at least conjecture that somewhat we are part of that purpose, and that perhaps understanding the universe is a part of that purpose. In that case, the universe might just be comprehensible because it is part of its purpose to be so."
Is humanity (or at least some kind of being able to appreciate it) the point of the universe? Gingerich says we'll never know. You can't prove that homo sapiens was the objective of evolution, but you can't prove it wasn't. "One can believe that some of the evolutionary pathways are so intricate and so complex as to be hopelessly improbably by the rules of random chance, but if you do not believe in divine action, then you will simply have to say that random chance was extremely lucky, because the outcome is there to see."
Which makes me wonder: why do lesson plans on "imperfect adaptations" always seem to have as their main objective disproving Intelligent Design? Since ID is not asking the same question as evolutionary theory, it's really neither here nor there. Just teach imperfect adaptations and let the students sit with their own unanswerable questions: did God make the eye inside-out for some reason, or is it just the result of natural processes (whether engineered by God or themselves the product of other natural processes?
Which in turn prompts an even more burning question: What is the point of having a face instead of a muzzle? You just don't have enough room to put all your teeth, and you can't open doors with your nose, carry things very conveniently in your jaws, or eat very neatly without your hands. Sure, it's a great example of an imperfect adaptation, but why did it even occur in the first place? What evolutionary advantage did flat-faced humanoids have? I get that we didn't need snouts after we acquired hands, but wouldn't they have been, well, handy to keep around anyway?
Should theistic scientists do science differently? Gingerich is convinced that they cannot. ".. my subjective, metaphysical view, that the universe would make more sense if a divine will operated at this level to design the universe in a purposeful way, can be neither denied nor proved by scientific means. It is a matter of belief or ideology how we choose to think about the universe, and it will make no difference how we do our science." It seems to me that maybe it's the atheist scientists who should change their methods, because after all the whole endeavor of experimental science is based on the idea that the universe is rational and orderly, and why should it be if no one's in charge?
"The idea of a vast and ancient universe making itself, which I have to some extent adopted in the foregoing ruminations, yields only a distant God of large numbers. Awesome as the creating transcendence is, it is the sort of deity that few would worship. What good is a God who does not interact with creation?"
Nancy Cartwright contributes a final unanswerable question: "Is everything that happens in the natural world fixed by the laws of physics?" In the real world outside the lab, "Some important areas of systematic behavior are precisely predictable, but in other swaths we can predict what will happen only for the most part." So the space described by physics may have room within it for a theistic space, a universe where God can move, "unnoticed by science, but not excluded by science." So instead of a divine engineer of a perpetual motion machine, the notorious watchmaker who wound up the universe and then left it lying around for us to stumble upon, he is a painter like Turner, who did not hesitate to add new compositional elements to his work even after it was hung for display! (Thanks to my daughter-in-law for drawing my attention to this analogy).
Theologically, this conception of God-- this attempt to answer a radical unanswerable-- resonates with me because it reinforces what I believe about His involvement in human lives. I believe that stuff happens on this planet, and that God doesn't always directly intervene. Sometimes I can't find a parking place. Sometimes a volcano erupts. Sometimes someone shoots up a school. None of that is God's fault or was God's responsibility to stop. But sometimes God does stop stuff from happening. Sometimes (usually) I get up and get dressed and eat toast without a big conversation with God about it. Or sometimes God does speak to me about what to eat or what to wear. There's room in the Universe and in this planet for Him to act or to let things run their course. That's what I see in Scripture, and that's what Nancy Cartwright sees in the world.
I said in my last post that I love questions and seeking answers to questions. But I also love that moment when, in all my searching, I come to that brick wall with the sign on it: "You're done now. No further answers available." I just need to find out for myself where that wall is, not take anyone else's word for it!
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