The Beginning of All Things: Science & Religion

Hans Kung
Review by Jeremy Smith, Senior Assistant Minister, First Presbyterian Church, Jackson, MS Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007

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The relationship between science and religion appears to have reached the level of irreconcilable differences, and as such, is stuck in an extended trial separation. They occasionally acknowledge each other’s existence, if for no other reason, than to exchange barbs and dredge up old fights.

“Your way of thinking is so outdated. You just aren’t suited to life in the 21st century,” science proclaims.

“When did you get to be so smug? You used to be my handmaiden.” religion counters.

“Why don’t you tell us all about the time when someone walked on water again? Everyone loves to hear that story.”

“Sure, just as soon as you explain to us one more time about how those monkeys turned into human beings.”

The neighbors close their windows, having heard this all before. “Those two should just go ahead and get divorced and so we can all get on with our lives.”

Is there no hope for these two bickering rivals? Can no one bring them together? These who have such a history together, have they now reached the point that they can have no future? Is there no one qualified to mediate between these two former lovers, no one who both parties will recognize as possessing credibility and demanding a hearing?

Hans Kung believes he is just the man for the job. Evidencing a remarkable array of scientific and theological expertise, Kung sets out to bring these warring parties to the table, to put each in its respective place, and to find a way for them to get along. The Beginning of All Things: Science and Religion is a roadmap to get the sides talking constructively in an effort to see the work of reconciliation begin.

Chapter one is Kung’s attempt to help science see her own limitations. The title (“A Unified Theory of Everything?”) is a little jab at modern day physicists who have been unable to solve the differences between two universally accepted though at times mutually exclusive models: the world described by Einstein and Newton, and the world described by quantum mechanics. On the one hand, you have the macro-level observations of galaxies and stars and planets, especially concerned with the issue of gravity; while on the other hand, quantum physics seems to accurately describe the micro-level of atoms and electrons and such. Both theories appear correct on paper and certainly work in reality (after all, our astronauts do find the moon exactly where the scientists tell us it should be). And yet they do not always agree with each other. What causes the apple to fall and where the electrons will be found in any given element have occasion to differ. So the late 20th century saw physics taken by an effort to find a “unifying theory,” something that would explain both small and big. Such an effort has failed, and Kung helpfully reminds us that the natural sciences are far from infallible.

The rest of chapter one continues in this vein, noting the imperfect foundation of mathematics (quoting Hans Hermes, “it is of considerable interest . . . that the mathematicians have shown by strictly mathematical methods that there exist mathematical problems which cannot be dealt with by the methods of calculations mathematics”) as well as the unsatisfactory claims and outcomes of scientific positivism. A more speculative section then follows, examining the “layers of reality,” follows by Kung’s formal plan for conversations between science and religion (we will return to his plan in a bit).

In effect, Kung has demonstrated the limitations of science in an effort to keep science from utterly discounting a discussion of things beyond the level of observations and measurement. He has tried to create a little space for God.

Chapter two is to religion what chapter one was to science: a call to a little humility. It begins with a dismissal of the traditional proofs for God and then to a discussion of improper critiques of religion. Kung then begins to carve out a little space for religion to work (it is interesting to note that he seems compelled to create intellectual space for religion, while he assumes that what science needs is to give up the space. But more on that thought to follow). To that end, Kung discusses the physical constants which appear in nature, the order of nature, and the fact that something exists instead of nothing, not to prove God’s existence, but in an effort to create enough scientific doubt to allow that God could exist. Quoting Heisenberg, Kung writes, “If anyone wants to argue from the indubitable fact that the world exists to a cause of this existence, then this assumption does not contradict our scientific knowledge at a single point.”(80). Kung then jumps from possibility to postulation, from what he calls God as hypothesis to God as reality. And how does he get there? By faith? Not exactly. Instead, Kung gets there “on a basis of a trusting, rationally responsible fundamental decision and fundamental attitude.” (81)

Chapter three begins a series of beginnings for which the title of the book takes its cue. Chapter three tackles the beginning of all things (creation versus evolution); chapter four looks at the beginning of life; and chapter five looks at the specific beginning of humanity. In each of these, the preceding program of establishing uncertainties in science in order to give room for religion to operate is Kung’s MO. The final chapter (formally an epilogue), examines the end of all things (i.e. death).

Critique:

Kung takes evolution to be self-evident, the Big Bang as the obvious (and proven!) explanation of the beginning of our universe, and that the Bible is far from infallible. With that out of the way, several observations are in order.

Liberalism

The book sets out to establish some ground rules for science and religion in order to build a bridge between the two. For the Christian, however, one cannot help but think that the bridge unites science not with biblical religion, but with something altogether different. His bridge may get science united to something, but that something looks far more like religion in the abstract than the religion of the Bible

Reading Kung’s liberal Christianity is surprising, but not in a refreshing kind of way. The opening page where he tells us that “I want to take the Bible seriously, but that doesn’t mean I want to take it literally” sets the tone for the rest of his examination of Scripture.” (ix) It is as if Machen had never written, as if mainline churches who embodied liberal tendencies were not on the steep decline, as if, indeed, the 20th century had never existed. Reading Kung today is like encountering an author advocating communism as a sophisticated and viable alternative to capitalism, as if the rise and fall of the Soviet Union had never occurred. His representation of biblical religion as modern liberalism may seem self-evident at a place like Tubigen (where Kung taught); it is just unfortunate that Kung made this self-defeating and ultimately hopeless version of religion the object of his inquiry. The very fact that liberal theology is still making an effort to make Christianity palpable to the intellegencia says something, doesn’t it? Whether it was Schleiermacher with the Romantics of his age or Kung placating the present day scientific community, the game is the same.

For even if he had been successful in developing a model for science and religion to co-exist, the end would have been a failure, for it is hard to imagine science’s partner being able to survive. Instead of trying to save the marriage between true science and true religion, he has instead invited science to establish a relationship with true religion’s twin sister. Such may make for a compelling Greek tragedy, but it in no way accomplishes his goal of providing science and religion a peaceful way to coexist. All that has been done is to sever any remaining tie by replacing one of the partners.

Taking sides

The development of scientific theory in history has at least one significant sore spot for religious types: the church’s response to Galileo. In brief, the church believed that the Bible taught that the earth was the center of the universe around which the stars and planets circled. Galileo demonstrated that such is not the case, and for his efforts, was forced to “recant” his position. Subsequent science has only confirmed Galileo’s theories.

Kung takes this event as a cautionary tale to be learned by religion: careful speaking too authoritatively about things which you know nothing about. In his estimation, the Bible “as a human work, [is] therefore not without defects and contradictions, concealments and confusions, limitations and errors. . . Scientific language and religions language are no more comparable than scientific language and poetic language.” (117-118) So religious experts are to restrict themselves to matters of “belief” while science tells us about the physical phenomenon of this world.

But the trouble with the church’s response to Galileo was not that she weighed in on the matter; it was that she misunderstood her Bible. The church’s problem was not failing to restrict herself to her sphere of influence; it was, instead, a failure to do proper exegesis. The lesson to learn from Galileo (and Cornucopias and Newton) and the Inquisition is that the Church should only speak authoritatively where Scripture (and good and necessary consequence) speaks. When the Bible says that God created mankind, it necessarily rules out Darwin’s explanation of the origin of the species, and the Church can be unafraid to say so.

Kung misunderstands the church’s failure, and thus would have the event serve as a permanent testimony that the Bible speaks not to hard facts but in metaphorical language aimed to produce some faith response in our hearts. Kung’s Bible tells stories, but they may or may not be true. His Bible talks about the world, but only in a way that unsophisticated pre-moderns could be expected to believe. In the end, Kung’s Bible is no Bible at all.

A map to nowhere

Chapter one lays the foundation for the book, and as such, closes with Kung’s three principles for science and religion (41). Allow me to summarize:

1. No confrontation: i.e. religion must learn its lesson from the Galileo incident, and science must leave room for the non-rational, non-observable. Kung writes, “neither a model of fundamentalist pre-modern origin that ignores or suppresses the results of science or historical-critical exegesis of the Bible, nor a model with a rationalistic modern coloring that . . . declares religion a priori to be irrelevant.” While I can appreciate his warning to science about getting “too big for its britches,” I cannot say the same about his exhortation to religion. Such britches will surely fall off the emaciated version of religion he envisions.

2. No integration: i.e. neither religion nor science can use the other to further itself. Out goes theistic evolution, and any attempt “by scientists who exploit religion for their theses.” Presumably, there goes “all truth is God’s truth” as well

3. Critical interaction between science and religion in which distinctive spheres are preserved but mutual questioning is encouraged.

In Kung’s mind, science and religion speak authoritatively in different spheres which should remain separate. But what of the creation of man and evolution? The Big Bang or the Word of His power. The miracles or naturalistic explanations. Trouble is, that like children in the backseat, science and religion will never be able to keep their hands to themselves, since there are inevitable points of overlap. Kung sounds a bit like the exacerbated parent yelling back, “keep to your own side or I’m pulling this car over!”

His efforts, though laudable in design, offer about the same effectiveness as the scolding father from the front seat. In the end, neither efforts work. border="0" alt="Website Analytics and Website Statistics by NextSTAT" />