One of the commonly held misconceptions is that faith and
science are opposed. Is this true?
Let’s take a very simple, real-world example and go from
there.
If I were to do an experiment which involved liquid
nitrogen (let’s say, to turn magnets into superconductors), I would go to my
closet of elements and pull the metal canister with the label “Liquid Nitrogen.”
I would then do my experiment.
What I wouldn’t do is: test whether or not the “stuff” in
the metal canister is liquid nitrogen; nor would I test whether or not the Scientific
Method is a valid method for achieving measurable results.
I trust that the label placed on the metal canister was
placed there by someone who already validated that the element is nitrogen;
likewise, I trust that the Scientific Method has similarly be validated. I
trust those things because, implicitly, I trust those people behind those
things – even though I have never met those people.
If I had rampant skepticism, I would never be able to do
the experiment at hand. I would have to personally
validate every single scientific “fact” that was given to me, from the
element, to the method, to the balance of the scales, to the basics of
magnetism, and so on. And since I would be wasting all of my time on that and not on the experiment at hand, I
would never progress scientific knowledge.
Doubt is such a waste of time!
In order to be a good scientist, I must necessarily trust
so much of what has come before me. I must stand on the shoulders of those who
have come before me. So, I need to trust them. Or, to put it another way, in
order to do science, I must have faith in what has come before.
The Catholic religion is very similar.
Like scientists that don’t have to re-validate the
Scientific Method, I don’t have to prove the validity of the Resurrection. The “scientist,”
Thomas the Apostle, already did the experiment. As did ten others who were in
the room. And another five-hundred a few weeks later. Thomas (though he was
quite incredulous at the time) actually touched and he saw and he heard – and his
results were validated by others who were equally surprised by this new
knowledge. The atom can be split? Death can be overcome? Who would have thunk
it!
Their results were published.
The problem – and here is where science and Catholicism
separate a little – is that scientists, if they wanted, could still do the
experiment on the most basic assumptions, whereas Catholics cannot. On a
practical level, scientists and Catholics are very similar in that we all presume on that previously-attained
knowledge; none of us has to re-do
the experiment. But on another level, we are
different in that Catholics cannot
re-do the experiment.
So, although science and religion do share a commonality –
that is, trust, or faith – they do differ in that religion, unlike science, has
as an essential component: credibility. Catholicism doesn’t simply say, “I
believe your results.” Catholicism also says, “I believe… you.”
This is why Thomas’ personal battle is so instructive.
He didn’t just simply disbelieve in the Resurrection.
(That could very well be understood at the time, given its extreme novelty).
But what Thomas also disbelieved were
his friends – the very men and women whom he had lived with for years and whom he
had trusted all that time. In this moment, he wasn’t just doubting the extreme
results of an experiment they had already done, he was forgetting everything
that made them – his friends and their results – credible.
Credibility: the “stuff” that makes a person trustworthy;
the ability to trust another.
And not only that, be had also forgotten the other
miracles: the loaves and fishes, the walking on water, the raising of Lazarus,
etc. Wasn’t it plausible that the man, Jesus, whom they had witnessed do these
miracles also could do this particular
miracle of the Resurrection?
Faith is not a blind leap or a leap in the dark. There
are reasons to believe; there is credibility behind the trust. And Thomas had
every reason to believe.
So, why didn’t he believe at his first hearing of the
Resurrection?
Simply: scandal.
He had been scandalized by the crucifixion. He had been
hurt by it, disillusioned by it. A seed of doubt was planted in his mind: “maybe
I have been duped.”
This happens all the time. We grow up from the children’s
stories – Santa Claus – and then we hear that some of them were made up. As we see
revealed the light behind the curtain in Oz, all else is cast in the dark
shadow of doubt. This confuses us. Hurts us, even. Who can we trust? We are
truly lambs among the wolves!
Catholicism over its past century, it would seem, has
lost a lot of its credibility; the scandals, the lack of holiness, the lack of “results.”
The scandal of the Cross – oftentimes, self-inflicted – tempts us, like it did Thomas,
to throw the baby out with the bathwater, to forget something so essential to
both science and Catholicism: the foundations.
Thomas’ disillusionment and hurt are healed when he
touches Jesus – and not just Jesus’ side, but all the way up (through the hole
created by the lance) to the heart itself. This is why Thomas cries out in
surprise “My Lord and my God!” What has happened? He touched Jesus’ heart,
literally, and found that it was beating.
Jesus was really alive.
In that moment, Thomas’ incredulity and disillusionment
disappeared. His friends were vindicated. And he was taught: “Thomas, blessed
are those who do not see and yet still believe.”
While this final line of Jesus’ teaching exhorts us,
there is more to it than that. Jesus is telling Thomas: “Thomas, your
disillusionment was healed because you got to see and to touch. Not everyone is
going to get that opportunity. So, how will people believe what you saw? And
when they believe – often because of the credibility gained by the new life you
are about to embark upon – will you not realize how miraculous that will be?”
How miraculous it is when someone has gone through the
Cross of scandal and disillusionment – and still comes to believe.
For me, I came to believe because of the logical, the
reasonable – I see the results of Catholicism’s first experiments, its
foundations, as entirely credible. I trust what Thomas (and others) experienced
because I know the results of that eroding doubt that comes from distrusting
what others have experienced and not affording the benefit of a doubt,
especially when the something claimed is so extraordinary. I trust them, too,
because, psychologically, it is impossible to have so many people experience
the same “hallucination.” I trust, too, because this did change his life. Not
in the radical I-will-blow-myself-up kind of way, but in radical
kill-me-if-you-must-I-will-not-doubt-again kind of way.
That may not be enough to assuage the weight and
splinters of the crosses that others carry. It may require an encounter with
aesthetic Beauty – in the Cathedrals, the art, the music, the liturgy – or the moral
Beauty not only in the saints (and they are inspiring!) but also in the current
day and age. I love being around someone who loves God and others well.
I am convinced that if Catholicism in the present era has
lost some credibility, it isn’t because the Resurrection isn’t true, it’s
because her members haven’t lived out the results of the first experiment and
the beauty of that has been hidden. The First Experiment shows the impact that
faith has. Until that enters in, we are like scientists who are trying to re-do
every experiment instead of basing the present life-experiment on the results
of those who have come before. Instead of progressing in faith, many spin their
wheels in doubt. The effect is a cultural rot where a mob of individuals rules
the day.
And that affects both religion and science.
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Interesting sermon. A lot to think about here.
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