In polite company, it is best not to venture into the realms of religion
and politics. For that reason, our discussions at the Coffee Shop
always venture into the realms of religion and politics.
We are not particularly interested in religion, but it is impossible, here,
where our Constitution expressly states that there shall be no religious
requirement for participation in politics, here, where our Constitution
expressly states that Congress shall neither establish a religion nor forbid
people from freely participating in religion, it is impossible to speak
of politics without continuing on to speak of religion.
As a dog-eared veteran of a combined religion and philosophy
department, who spent years teaching interdisciplinary courses,
many of which had to do with biology and physics, whose own personal
odyssey has been a kind of voyage of a beagle, I have friends who
continue to spend their years trying to justify the ways of god to man.
It is impossible. Everything about the two endeavors is different.
Religious people seek truth. They believe there is truth somewhere,
and they want to know what it is. They want to know the way,
and the life, and the truth, and once they glimpse it, or hear it,
or read it, they want to affirm it, align themselves with it, and rest on it.
They will memorize the truth, recite it, and urge it upon their friends.
Why not? If you think you know what the absolute truth is,
why would you not become a missionary for it, an example of it?
They speak of God and life forever, of realities beyond the sun
and the moon and the starts, of life forever beyond the one we have,
and urge that death is not really death: it is just a passage to. . . .
Truth is truth. It is forever. It is always what it is: immortal,
invisible, and always wise. Truth is intolerant of alternatives.
True believers may be kind, and tolerant, but they know they have
the truth, and that truth is forever, that other opinions are well-meant,
but wrong. Religions have not been kind to doubters.
Science does not know anything about other realities, about heavens
or hells or gremlins or ghosts or resurrections or choirs of angels.
Science simply tries to understand the world around us, and us,
as a part of that world. It is not a search for truth, but for understanding.
Science assumes that understanding the world does not have
and end point. There will always be more: a better understanding.
Learning does not have an end point. It has only rest points.
Scientists make intelligent guesses, and try them out. They test
their hypotheses by trying to imagine what would disprove the hypothesis.
What would show their idea to be false? It is knowledge by doubt,
until all of their experiments seem to leave the idea standing.
They call the surviving ideas, "theories", not truth, because eventually
somebody will surely find a better representation of what is going on
that what we know now. There is always a better idea!
The security one can find in science is not the security of absolute
ideas, but knowing that--so far, at least--no one has been able
to think of a way to show that it is not that way. When someone does,
scientists will say, "Wow! Really? I think you are right! The evidence
is good!"
Religious people speak of things that cannot be seen, or tested.
They speak of other realities, not able to be examined, or tested.
Religions seek absolute truths. Science seeks the best understanding
available, knowing there is no end point. Understanding goes on,
hypothesizing, testing, doubting, experimenting. It is a journey.
It isn't about other realities. It is about this one.
Maybe there are other realities, but if you cannot know
about them, cannot understand them, what is it to say they are?
When someone claims to have a truth that passes all understanding,
about all one can do is to agree: it has nothing to do with understanding.
Understanding is a tough little critter, having survived doubt.
and politics. For that reason, our discussions at the Coffee Shop
always venture into the realms of religion and politics.
We are not particularly interested in religion, but it is impossible, here,
where our Constitution expressly states that there shall be no religious
requirement for participation in politics, here, where our Constitution
expressly states that Congress shall neither establish a religion nor forbid
people from freely participating in religion, it is impossible to speak
of politics without continuing on to speak of religion.
As a dog-eared veteran of a combined religion and philosophy
department, who spent years teaching interdisciplinary courses,
many of which had to do with biology and physics, whose own personal
odyssey has been a kind of voyage of a beagle, I have friends who
continue to spend their years trying to justify the ways of god to man.
It is impossible. Everything about the two endeavors is different.
Religious people seek truth. They believe there is truth somewhere,
and they want to know what it is. They want to know the way,
and the life, and the truth, and once they glimpse it, or hear it,
or read it, they want to affirm it, align themselves with it, and rest on it.
They will memorize the truth, recite it, and urge it upon their friends.
Why not? If you think you know what the absolute truth is,
why would you not become a missionary for it, an example of it?
They speak of God and life forever, of realities beyond the sun
and the moon and the starts, of life forever beyond the one we have,
and urge that death is not really death: it is just a passage to. . . .
Truth is truth. It is forever. It is always what it is: immortal,
invisible, and always wise. Truth is intolerant of alternatives.
True believers may be kind, and tolerant, but they know they have
the truth, and that truth is forever, that other opinions are well-meant,
but wrong. Religions have not been kind to doubters.
Science does not know anything about other realities, about heavens
or hells or gremlins or ghosts or resurrections or choirs of angels.
Science simply tries to understand the world around us, and us,
as a part of that world. It is not a search for truth, but for understanding.
Science assumes that understanding the world does not have
and end point. There will always be more: a better understanding.
Learning does not have an end point. It has only rest points.
Scientists make intelligent guesses, and try them out. They test
their hypotheses by trying to imagine what would disprove the hypothesis.
What would show their idea to be false? It is knowledge by doubt,
until all of their experiments seem to leave the idea standing.
They call the surviving ideas, "theories", not truth, because eventually
somebody will surely find a better representation of what is going on
that what we know now. There is always a better idea!
The security one can find in science is not the security of absolute
ideas, but knowing that--so far, at least--no one has been able
to think of a way to show that it is not that way. When someone does,
scientists will say, "Wow! Really? I think you are right! The evidence
is good!"
Religious people speak of things that cannot be seen, or tested.
They speak of other realities, not able to be examined, or tested.
Religions seek absolute truths. Science seeks the best understanding
available, knowing there is no end point. Understanding goes on,
hypothesizing, testing, doubting, experimenting. It is a journey.
It isn't about other realities. It is about this one.
Maybe there are other realities, but if you cannot know
about them, cannot understand them, what is it to say they are?
When someone claims to have a truth that passes all understanding,
about all one can do is to agree: it has nothing to do with understanding.
Understanding is a tough little critter, having survived doubt.
.
Comments
Post a Comment