I notice how moving to a new place has given me a new interest in Facebook, basically because I hardly know anyone down here. I do have a lovely cousin, Joy, who lives with her husband in nearby Guiseley (pronounced, most definitely I am assured, like disguise (at first I got it wrong, doh)), an aunt, Ann, in Leeds, and my venerable godfather Arthur, who teaches at Bradford University and lives in the village of Addingham. And a friend of my house-mate Neil has been up since Wednesday night, doing some paintwork on the house, kipping in the living room and joining us for communal feeds in the evening; including, fittingly enough, on Friday night my 'legendary' lentil curry.
In short, I'm not utterly friendless and alone :)
But this morning, Sunday, I made my first serious foray into the local community, walking round the corner to Holy Trinity Parish Church, Idle, whose gothic flank is clearly visible through the trees from my bedroom window, and whose bell I hear softly tolling on the hour.
I'd heard the Thursday evening bell-ringing practice, and at ten o'clock this morning the fruit of this labour tumbled and cascaded in joyous melody across the village. Such an exuberant call to worship, such a resonant symbol of English religious heritage; but also, I couldn't help imagining, for the New Inn Saturday night revelers and other godless Idle hordes:), possibly a right nuisance.
The service itself was a pleasure. Within this ancient frame of buttresses and bells - not so long ago the church celebrated its 175th birthday - the life of the Spirit evidently bubbles. While my initial impression was of a bit of a congregational split, with an exuberant youthful band of arm-raisers at the front and more venerable members sitting in scattered reserve further back, a feeling of collective warmth grew. Warm purple carpet and chairs replaced pews (I learned) a few years back, and the reader's long rich blue scarf - someone tell me the proper word - echoed the ornate blues and reds of the arching stained glass window at the front, depicting the ascending Christ with worshipful disciples and angelic hosts...
What an intriguing little place Idle village is. On Wednesday afternoon, after a monthly prayer morning with the HCJB team, I took a short wander. I'd already noticed at the junction at the top of the high street, across the road from my bus stop, the 'Idle National Spiritualist Church'. Gold lettered 'Stage 84' marks out a blackened converted church hall in the middle of this crossroads, and moseying a little further, I discovered a plaque reading 'Stage 84 Yorkshire Performing Arts School', of which this building was evidently the original venue.
Just behind is the Idle and Thackley Conservative Club, with patron only parking. Further on is the 'Cambing Cricket' ground, a green field which, while smooth enough, has a gradient and general lumpiness affording the impression it is unlikely to have seen a game for some years. But summer could prove me wrong.
Idle also boasts a collection of olde English pubs, the general character of which has been sketched to me by colleague Nick who's local to the area: the 1840 one's called 'The Oddfellows Hall', then there's 'The Coniston', 'The New Inn' - fronted by garish boards advertising its disco, karaoke and sports nights, and 'The White Bear' and 'The White Swan'. Apparently Bear good, Swan bad (drugs). We'll see. Nearer central Bradford I've also spotted the 'Horse and Farrier', 'The Lord Clyde' (I thought I'd left Glasgow); and my favourite so far, 'The Corn Dolly'. Cute.
Sunday, 20 April 2008
Tuesday, 15 April 2008
Hello Bradford
I'd intended to make my getaway on Saturday after lunch, but an underestimate of the packing project combined with the siren call of Doctor Who persuaded me late afternoon that it might be best to hold off till the next morning. So just before midday Sunday, I finally eased the hire transit van with my life in the back, out of the gates of The Laurels, Bridge of Weir, and headed south to the North. Annie Mac on Radio One kept me amused most of the way down the M74/M6, especially 'Sunday Squabbles', one of those bizarre confessional features where people call in under the odd impression that broadcasting their problems to the nation and awaiting solutions phoned in by the public beats sitting down for a private chat, any day.
Stopping at Annandale Water services, Johnstonebridge for a spot of light refreshment, a quiet stroll round the pond was broken by the alarming sound of my name being barked from behind: 'Bruce! Bruce, stop it! Don't you dare...' I was relieved to discover on turning round that it wasn't some scary individual from my past who couldn't believe I'd had the audacity to leave without saying goodbye, or repaying some long forgotten loan - but the owner of a black lab that was finding the idea of a dip all too tempting.
Soon after turning off the M6 onto the A65 cross country, I began to feel like I was in Yorkshire. And nearing my destination, I was conscious of entering a distinctly northern town; the hills laced with Coronation Street style terraces, the factory chimneys, the local stone, the peaked caps... (ok, not that last one). Once in Bradford, the AA directions broke down and I had to stop and ask a couple of times to reach my destination of Garth Fold in the village of Idle. It's a name I'm going to have to fight against, but all the same, a lovely wee spot, if you'll excuse the Scottish twang (heavens, I'm actually moving closer to my roots coming here - Guisborough on the north edge of Yorkshire - so there's really no excuse)... quiet stone courtyard type layout, rural aspect, trees, nice view, small Anglican church nearby with a bell tolling on the hour (so far hasn't disturbed my sleep too much)... and across the road from the famous 'Idle Working Men's Club' - you couldn't make this up - circa 1928, and just up the road from a pub whose name I'll need to go and check, dating from 1840.
Sunday night I had my first carry-out curry from the Idle Balti - a smooth creamy chicken 'makhani', beautiful. I think I could get used to this place.
Stopping at Annandale Water services, Johnstonebridge for a spot of light refreshment, a quiet stroll round the pond was broken by the alarming sound of my name being barked from behind: 'Bruce! Bruce, stop it! Don't you dare...' I was relieved to discover on turning round that it wasn't some scary individual from my past who couldn't believe I'd had the audacity to leave without saying goodbye, or repaying some long forgotten loan - but the owner of a black lab that was finding the idea of a dip all too tempting.
Soon after turning off the M6 onto the A65 cross country, I began to feel like I was in Yorkshire. And nearing my destination, I was conscious of entering a distinctly northern town; the hills laced with Coronation Street style terraces, the factory chimneys, the local stone, the peaked caps... (ok, not that last one). Once in Bradford, the AA directions broke down and I had to stop and ask a couple of times to reach my destination of Garth Fold in the village of Idle. It's a name I'm going to have to fight against, but all the same, a lovely wee spot, if you'll excuse the Scottish twang (heavens, I'm actually moving closer to my roots coming here - Guisborough on the north edge of Yorkshire - so there's really no excuse)... quiet stone courtyard type layout, rural aspect, trees, nice view, small Anglican church nearby with a bell tolling on the hour (so far hasn't disturbed my sleep too much)... and across the road from the famous 'Idle Working Men's Club' - you couldn't make this up - circa 1928, and just up the road from a pub whose name I'll need to go and check, dating from 1840.
Sunday night I had my first carry-out curry from the Idle Balti - a smooth creamy chicken 'makhani', beautiful. I think I could get used to this place.
Tuesday, 1 April 2008
Fool's gold?
Sadly I haven't yet been able to catch up with all the comments on the last post yet, but with a new month dawning and at the risk of looking a fool (for Christ:)), I just want to articulate a little more - particularly for the benefit of atheist readers - how I see the life of faith. I want to widen the camera angle again for a moment.
Atheists have - quite rightly - a high degree of interest in reason and evidence, and how truth claims match up to these. And from what I've read, they often seem to have a pretty low opinion of how religion squares up on these fronts. Let me just clarify, in case there is any doubt, that as I understand it from my reading and investigation about faith and Christianity in particular: defences of the faith also put a very high premium on these criteria, of reasonableness and evidence. So there's plainly a sharp disagreement here.
There's a big discussion to be had about the nature and status of 'evidence'. But just to sketch one of the most obvious broad brush contrasts between the sceptical view, and the faith one. Sceptics are looking for 'evidence' that is tangible and unmistakable to any neutral observer, but within a framework of quite narrowly defined criteria, similar to criteria for observing physical phenomena in a scientific experiment. The common cry is 'Prove it', 'Give me evidence'. By contrast, my impression is that the lens employed in Christian apologetics to discuss the validity of faith from a perspective of reason and evidence, is generally wider. A broader exploration is attempted of how reason and faith operate in real life, in a variety of areas. And a broad criticism that would be levelled at the sceptical viewpoint from this perspective is that it doesn't consistently apply the same principles it uses to attack faith, in other broad areas of thought and life. It strains gnats but swallows camels, to quote, if you don't mind me doing so, er, Jesus.
But here is where the heart comes in. A good defence of Christianity will show the value but also the limitations of reason in attaining truth in its broadest senses. It will show how reason and the evidence that is there leads, invites, beckons, not by proof but with intellectual integrity intact, to the threshold of faith. The heart matters here; there has to be an open-ness. But if that threshold is crossed, like Lucy stepping into the wardrobe, then a whole new world is unveiled. Life and perspective can be changed, perhaps slowly, perhaps suddenly; like the life blood in a butterfly's wings transforming it from grey chrysalis to a vision of light and beauty, or the wind in a surfer's sail lifting the board and sending it coursing across the waves. A step is taken; power, energy, life and motion are released.
Last week my three year old niece and her parents were up to stay. At one point, when we were swinging her or something, her mum said, 'They're so trusting'. A child's instinct to trust becomes in an adult so easily stifled and withered, instead of growing and developing alongside the - no denying it, crucial - capacities to reason, question and critique. Trust opens up experience, and indeed knowledge and revelation that are unattainable without it. It's quite possible to think people with faith are deluded if you want to. But I'd say that sceptics need to consider carefully, with a wide angle lens, if the phenomenon of religious faith in the world, which embraces many sane, thinking people, really falls into the same kind of category as belief in unicorns, fairies and the like. The more dare I say it 'scientific' approach in dealing with a large phenomena of this kind is to explore and examine it first from as many angles, and in as much depth, as possible.
Who knows where that might lead?
Atheists have - quite rightly - a high degree of interest in reason and evidence, and how truth claims match up to these. And from what I've read, they often seem to have a pretty low opinion of how religion squares up on these fronts. Let me just clarify, in case there is any doubt, that as I understand it from my reading and investigation about faith and Christianity in particular: defences of the faith also put a very high premium on these criteria, of reasonableness and evidence. So there's plainly a sharp disagreement here.
There's a big discussion to be had about the nature and status of 'evidence'. But just to sketch one of the most obvious broad brush contrasts between the sceptical view, and the faith one. Sceptics are looking for 'evidence' that is tangible and unmistakable to any neutral observer, but within a framework of quite narrowly defined criteria, similar to criteria for observing physical phenomena in a scientific experiment. The common cry is 'Prove it', 'Give me evidence'. By contrast, my impression is that the lens employed in Christian apologetics to discuss the validity of faith from a perspective of reason and evidence, is generally wider. A broader exploration is attempted of how reason and faith operate in real life, in a variety of areas. And a broad criticism that would be levelled at the sceptical viewpoint from this perspective is that it doesn't consistently apply the same principles it uses to attack faith, in other broad areas of thought and life. It strains gnats but swallows camels, to quote, if you don't mind me doing so, er, Jesus.
But here is where the heart comes in. A good defence of Christianity will show the value but also the limitations of reason in attaining truth in its broadest senses. It will show how reason and the evidence that is there leads, invites, beckons, not by proof but with intellectual integrity intact, to the threshold of faith. The heart matters here; there has to be an open-ness. But if that threshold is crossed, like Lucy stepping into the wardrobe, then a whole new world is unveiled. Life and perspective can be changed, perhaps slowly, perhaps suddenly; like the life blood in a butterfly's wings transforming it from grey chrysalis to a vision of light and beauty, or the wind in a surfer's sail lifting the board and sending it coursing across the waves. A step is taken; power, energy, life and motion are released.
Last week my three year old niece and her parents were up to stay. At one point, when we were swinging her or something, her mum said, 'They're so trusting'. A child's instinct to trust becomes in an adult so easily stifled and withered, instead of growing and developing alongside the - no denying it, crucial - capacities to reason, question and critique. Trust opens up experience, and indeed knowledge and revelation that are unattainable without it. It's quite possible to think people with faith are deluded if you want to. But I'd say that sceptics need to consider carefully, with a wide angle lens, if the phenomenon of religious faith in the world, which embraces many sane, thinking people, really falls into the same kind of category as belief in unicorns, fairies and the like. The more dare I say it 'scientific' approach in dealing with a large phenomena of this kind is to explore and examine it first from as many angles, and in as much depth, as possible.
Who knows where that might lead?
Thursday, 13 March 2008
Breaking open the vessel
As I haven't posted for a fortnight, here's a comment I wrote in response to Jonathan's post on 'Musings' top right, 'Science and its limits: Chapter Seven', March 8th. It expresses some of my recent thoughts about faith.
'...I don't think God will be found in the detached testable way you want. We're looking at reality in very different ways, like through a different lens or set of specs. I'm thinking about how people move from atheism to belief in God, and it strikes me that the idea of paradigm shift is helpful here: a different way of looking at reality. And while discussion has a part to play in tackling intellectual problems, you'd likely find from testimony that things like time and experience - or a particular very striking experience - have a part to play. CS Lewis in 'Surprised by joy' is a case in point (he like A McGrath was an atheist first).
If you see reality through this radically different paradigm, then it - the same reality we all see - can positively throb with a sense of the presence of God, at least some of the time; eg ask an African Christian, I'm sure from the perspective of a culture steeped in a sense of the spiritual character of the world and nature, he/she would give a very different account of what reality looks like from a western secularist.
I'm just trying to challenge the secular science view a bit here.
For me, evidence of God is primarily relational - though this has taken time to develop. Not through detached observation of data. A good starting point is a simple step like the prayer, 'God, if you are real, please reveal yourself to me', with even a 'mustard seed' of at least openness. It could be mixed with a load of scepticism and questions to be answered - it'd just be a start. Who knows what might happen given time. Another principle of 'evidence' from the Christian perspective is, act on the little that is revealed, even just a small step like a question to read up on, and more truth and presence (of God) are revealed.
REVELATION is a key concept; that we don't have to work it all out for ourselves, but that God reveals Himself. In various ways, nature, the bible, and primarily through a Person, Jesus. It is through dynamic interacting personal relationship with Christ as revealed in scripture that I experience God's reality in a growing way from day to day. It's a whole being interaction, head, heart, will, not just head. Yes, some intellectual obstacles may need to be removed first, and go on being removed. But then it's like a process of surrender - not of your brain, but of your whole being, to the reality of God as personal dynamic presence that breaks and crashes upon you like waves.
I'm just trying here to give a clearer picture of what having faith in God looks and feels like for a Christian - spurred by the 'evidence' question J.
I've been meditating recently over several days on John 9 in the bible, about a man born blind who was healed by Jesus - had an experience no-one could take from him, even in the teeth of strong opposition and questioning from the religious elite of the day. It seems relevant. Again, this is a way I think God is revealed, through narrative and drama, not just philosophical or scientific speculation.
Think about what's going on when you fall in love, or read an epic like Lord of the Rings - examples of something like the kind of suspension of intellectual scepticism, and openness and vulnerability of heart and imagination that are involved in faith in God.
No, I haven't been on acid. I'm just a bit more lucid in the morning.'
'...I don't think God will be found in the detached testable way you want. We're looking at reality in very different ways, like through a different lens or set of specs. I'm thinking about how people move from atheism to belief in God, and it strikes me that the idea of paradigm shift is helpful here: a different way of looking at reality. And while discussion has a part to play in tackling intellectual problems, you'd likely find from testimony that things like time and experience - or a particular very striking experience - have a part to play. CS Lewis in 'Surprised by joy' is a case in point (he like A McGrath was an atheist first).
If you see reality through this radically different paradigm, then it - the same reality we all see - can positively throb with a sense of the presence of God, at least some of the time; eg ask an African Christian, I'm sure from the perspective of a culture steeped in a sense of the spiritual character of the world and nature, he/she would give a very different account of what reality looks like from a western secularist.
I'm just trying to challenge the secular science view a bit here.
For me, evidence of God is primarily relational - though this has taken time to develop. Not through detached observation of data. A good starting point is a simple step like the prayer, 'God, if you are real, please reveal yourself to me', with even a 'mustard seed' of at least openness. It could be mixed with a load of scepticism and questions to be answered - it'd just be a start. Who knows what might happen given time. Another principle of 'evidence' from the Christian perspective is, act on the little that is revealed, even just a small step like a question to read up on, and more truth and presence (of God) are revealed.
REVELATION is a key concept; that we don't have to work it all out for ourselves, but that God reveals Himself. In various ways, nature, the bible, and primarily through a Person, Jesus. It is through dynamic interacting personal relationship with Christ as revealed in scripture that I experience God's reality in a growing way from day to day. It's a whole being interaction, head, heart, will, not just head. Yes, some intellectual obstacles may need to be removed first, and go on being removed. But then it's like a process of surrender - not of your brain, but of your whole being, to the reality of God as personal dynamic presence that breaks and crashes upon you like waves.
I'm just trying here to give a clearer picture of what having faith in God looks and feels like for a Christian - spurred by the 'evidence' question J.
I've been meditating recently over several days on John 9 in the bible, about a man born blind who was healed by Jesus - had an experience no-one could take from him, even in the teeth of strong opposition and questioning from the religious elite of the day. It seems relevant. Again, this is a way I think God is revealed, through narrative and drama, not just philosophical or scientific speculation.
Think about what's going on when you fall in love, or read an epic like Lord of the Rings - examples of something like the kind of suspension of intellectual scepticism, and openness and vulnerability of heart and imagination that are involved in faith in God.
No, I haven't been on acid. I'm just a bit more lucid in the morning.'
Friday, 29 February 2008
Insight from a volcano
Recently I've watched a couple of BBC series on large scale natural and geological phenomenon: 'Earth: the power of the planet' and 'Ten things you didn't know about...(tsunamis, earthquakes, avalanches). I love learning about the natural world and science; I'm a sucker for 'Life in Cold Blood', occasionally 'Horizon', and another excellent recent one, 'Atom'. And not surprisingly in the context of recent blog discussion, I find myself constantly reflecting on how religious faith, including my own, meshes with the captivating fields of knowledge these kinds of programmes open up.
It was a scene from the volcano episode of 'Power of the planet' the other day that crystallised an insight that had been simmering for some time. The presenter, Dr Iain Stuart - a congenial Scotsman - was discussing the volcanic activity that sustained and gave birth to Iceland. A scene of him contentedly soaking with locals in a warm geyser pool gave way to a computer-generated model of the extraordinary structure which lies beneath the island. Shooting up from the earth's core is a colossal funnel of lava, like a giant molten tree trunk; and it is of course the point where this plume hits the surface of the ocean that has produced - well, Iceland.
Now this is of course basic geology which anyone with a background in the subject would probably be quite familiar with. But for someone without such prior learning, the image was spell-binding - as indeed have been many images, facts and figures in the whole series. I've always had a hunger for knowledge about the natural world, and contrary to one popular stereotype, have never found my religious faith instilling any kind of fear or reluctance to glean more. In fact, the growing inner freedom of spirit faith nurtures seems if anything to sharpen this hunger. While it is pleasant enough to view pretty pictures of Iceland's landscape, I am intrigued by the bigger picture, the inner workings, what lies under the surface.
And I try to bring the same exploratory approach to faith. I'm struck by the parallels between religious and scientific knowledge. In both cases, full-blooded appreciation is only gained through a questing spirit that is prepared to 'get under the skin' of what is apparent, to dig deep for understanding. No great progress in science would have been possible without this drive to think outside the box, push past preconceptions and conceive physical reality in fresh ways. And no progress can be made in grasping and savouring spiritual realities without a similar attitude and approach. And it seems that one of the starting points, as Rob pointed out, is being prepared to take seriously the fact that there are different ways of gleaning knowledge, of which the scientific method is only one. A grade one class in epistemology would I reckon tell you that. 'Oranges are not the only fruit' as Jeanettte Winterson observed in a very different context. To quote from the opening of Chapter 6 of 'Science and its limits', (The Limitations of Science: What Can It Not Tell Us): '... if knowledge is restricted to scientific knowledge, we will thus be sheltering ourselves and our beliefs from the relevant portions of reality' p97. Sobering stuff - and I can't deny being curious to know what my atheist friends make of it.
Finally: it's been one heck of a weather day. Scotland's been through the washing machine. 'Heather the weather' must have been waxing lyrical.
It was a scene from the volcano episode of 'Power of the planet' the other day that crystallised an insight that had been simmering for some time. The presenter, Dr Iain Stuart - a congenial Scotsman - was discussing the volcanic activity that sustained and gave birth to Iceland. A scene of him contentedly soaking with locals in a warm geyser pool gave way to a computer-generated model of the extraordinary structure which lies beneath the island. Shooting up from the earth's core is a colossal funnel of lava, like a giant molten tree trunk; and it is of course the point where this plume hits the surface of the ocean that has produced - well, Iceland.
Now this is of course basic geology which anyone with a background in the subject would probably be quite familiar with. But for someone without such prior learning, the image was spell-binding - as indeed have been many images, facts and figures in the whole series. I've always had a hunger for knowledge about the natural world, and contrary to one popular stereotype, have never found my religious faith instilling any kind of fear or reluctance to glean more. In fact, the growing inner freedom of spirit faith nurtures seems if anything to sharpen this hunger. While it is pleasant enough to view pretty pictures of Iceland's landscape, I am intrigued by the bigger picture, the inner workings, what lies under the surface.
And I try to bring the same exploratory approach to faith. I'm struck by the parallels between religious and scientific knowledge. In both cases, full-blooded appreciation is only gained through a questing spirit that is prepared to 'get under the skin' of what is apparent, to dig deep for understanding. No great progress in science would have been possible without this drive to think outside the box, push past preconceptions and conceive physical reality in fresh ways. And no progress can be made in grasping and savouring spiritual realities without a similar attitude and approach. And it seems that one of the starting points, as Rob pointed out, is being prepared to take seriously the fact that there are different ways of gleaning knowledge, of which the scientific method is only one. A grade one class in epistemology would I reckon tell you that. 'Oranges are not the only fruit' as Jeanettte Winterson observed in a very different context. To quote from the opening of Chapter 6 of 'Science and its limits', (The Limitations of Science: What Can It Not Tell Us): '... if knowledge is restricted to scientific knowledge, we will thus be sheltering ourselves and our beliefs from the relevant portions of reality' p97. Sobering stuff - and I can't deny being curious to know what my atheist friends make of it.
Finally: it's been one heck of a weather day. Scotland's been through the washing machine. 'Heather the weather' must have been waxing lyrical.
Wednesday, 20 February 2008
Making airwaves
Last Wednesday I was interviewed and accepted for a radio producer post with Whistling Frog Productions in Bradford, a UK-based ministry of HCJB Global, which has media and healthcare ministries around the world. Exciting news, so I look forward to moving to Bradford (yes, I know that sounds odd to some!), hopefully in a few weeks' time.
Meanwhile, I need to start building up a prayer and financial support base - in common with a number of Christian ministries, the post itself is not salaried - as well as start investigating part-time work opportunities down there, and in other practical ways get ready to go.
More soon...
Meanwhile, I need to start building up a prayer and financial support base - in common with a number of Christian ministries, the post itself is not salaried - as well as start investigating part-time work opportunities down there, and in other practical ways get ready to go.
More soon...
Monday, 11 February 2008
The atheists' take on science: a problem
There's nothing like a good book to expand knowledge, awareness and ways of looking at things. I've started reading 'Philosophy of Science', the original 1986 title of the book 'Science and its limits' by Del Ratzch. I'd recommended it to Jonathan on the Musings blog, see top right, and he posted a rather different take on it. It's an overview, 165pp long, and one of a series called 'Contours of Christian Philosophy'. That might turn off some readers before even opening it, which would be a shame, because core sections present a clear informative account of ways of understanding the nature, role and scope of science as they have developed over the centuries.
Chapter 1, Science: What is it?, outlines its basic aspects and presuppositions. The italicised words give a flavour: natural science, discipline, theoretical, natural explanations, empirical, objectivity, rational...
Chapter 2, The Traditional Conception of Science, outlines first the 'Baconian conception'. Next, rationality, sub-divided into prediction, covering-law model of explanation, hypothetico-deductive testing (in which concepts including proof, experiment, hypotheses, deduction and logic are summarised). Then the empirical element, and objectivity, where the role of the scientific community is briefly addressed. Followed by some initial implications.
It proceeds to examine 'Positivism: a Major School in the Traditional View', and its position on the empirical, rationality and objectivity. This is where, in light of the current debate with atheists, things start to get interesting. On the empirical, DR notes that British philosopher John Locke, was so impressed by the accomplishments of Newton, which he perceived as:
'having banned the nonempirical from science... that he thought that if restricting science to the purely empirical had proved to be the ultimate key to scientific knowledge (and who could doubt that?) then that restriction must be the key to other knowledge as well... the genesis of modern empiricism, the doctrine (note) that all concepts, ideas and substantive knowledge available to human beings must ultimately rest solely on experience - in particular, on sensory experience and observation. The implication of that doctrine (forcefully advocated by David Hume) was that any alleged idea or belief which did not have that empirical grounding was really empty and quite literally meaningless', p33.
When I read that, I thought heavens, this is starting to sound familiar.
I won't be spending much more blog time outlining and quoting another author's thoughts so extensively, but I've done so here in the hope of engaging my atheist readers in a level of reading and discussion we can all take seriously. Hopefully around a book like this, or of similar quality. DR goes on to outline the implications and decline of positivism, delineating the flaws that made it 'increasingly clear that the positivist outlook was bankrupt as a philosophy of science, and ultimately incoherent as well', p36. A brief look at the decline of the traditional view of science closes chapter 2. There are seven more chapters to go.
This isn't half as entertaining as reading in 'The God Delusion' about belief in God being comparable to belief in fairies, unicorns, an orbiting chocolate teapot and an imaginary friend called Binker. But golly, the science looks more serious.
Chapter 1, Science: What is it?, outlines its basic aspects and presuppositions. The italicised words give a flavour: natural science, discipline, theoretical, natural explanations, empirical, objectivity, rational...
Chapter 2, The Traditional Conception of Science, outlines first the 'Baconian conception'. Next, rationality, sub-divided into prediction, covering-law model of explanation, hypothetico-deductive testing (in which concepts including proof, experiment, hypotheses, deduction and logic are summarised). Then the empirical element, and objectivity, where the role of the scientific community is briefly addressed. Followed by some initial implications.
It proceeds to examine 'Positivism: a Major School in the Traditional View', and its position on the empirical, rationality and objectivity. This is where, in light of the current debate with atheists, things start to get interesting. On the empirical, DR notes that British philosopher John Locke, was so impressed by the accomplishments of Newton, which he perceived as:
'having banned the nonempirical from science... that he thought that if restricting science to the purely empirical had proved to be the ultimate key to scientific knowledge (and who could doubt that?) then that restriction must be the key to other knowledge as well... the genesis of modern empiricism, the doctrine (note) that all concepts, ideas and substantive knowledge available to human beings must ultimately rest solely on experience - in particular, on sensory experience and observation. The implication of that doctrine (forcefully advocated by David Hume) was that any alleged idea or belief which did not have that empirical grounding was really empty and quite literally meaningless', p33.
When I read that, I thought heavens, this is starting to sound familiar.
I won't be spending much more blog time outlining and quoting another author's thoughts so extensively, but I've done so here in the hope of engaging my atheist readers in a level of reading and discussion we can all take seriously. Hopefully around a book like this, or of similar quality. DR goes on to outline the implications and decline of positivism, delineating the flaws that made it 'increasingly clear that the positivist outlook was bankrupt as a philosophy of science, and ultimately incoherent as well', p36. A brief look at the decline of the traditional view of science closes chapter 2. There are seven more chapters to go.
This isn't half as entertaining as reading in 'The God Delusion' about belief in God being comparable to belief in fairies, unicorns, an orbiting chocolate teapot and an imaginary friend called Binker. But golly, the science looks more serious.
Thursday, 7 February 2008
The charm and the flaw of Richard Dawkins
I've finished 'The God Delusion' by Richard Dawkins. I like to give credit where credit's due: although I stalled at a couple of points (started reading it in September), I readily acknowledge the guy is a clever, lucid and witty writer, so large parts were actually quite enjoyable, and I learned some fascinating science stuff, especially in the last few pp. But in RD's handling of religion, I utterly concur with Alister McGrath in 'The Dawkins Delusion' that:
'Dawkins simply offers the atheist equivalent of slick hellfire preaching, substituting turbocharged rhetoric and highly selective manipulation of facts for careful, evidence-based thinking... surprisingly little scientific analysis... a lot of pseudo-scientific speculation, linked with wider cultural criticisms of religion, mostly borrowed from older atheist writings', p10.
He goes on to note that Prospect magazine, whose reader survey as noted in the TGD fly leaf voted RD one of the world's three top intellectuals in Nov 2005, went on to carry a review of the book. Describing it as 'incurious, dogmatic, rambling and self-contradictory', the review was called 'Dawkins the dogmatist', p11.
A look at some specifics will await another post - the argument about probability in Chapter 4 'Why there almost certainly is no God' - to which AM responds - is the part that intrigued me most and that I'd most want to go back to. A broad brush observation for now: RD is clearly and admirably passionate about science, and ponders the wonders of the world that are in its scope to reveal, with all the goggle-eyed delight of a child in a cathedral. But for some reason, he is unwilling seriously to explore even the possibility of another, dare I say it, yet more marvellous cathedral: the cathedral of the spirit, unlocked with the key of faith, where God in relationship might just be found. Not held at arm's length, ostracised, distorted and pilloried through misrepresentation (particularly of the OT) as a 'monster'; but, even modestly and hesitatingly, approached and explored as the majestic reality He might just be. God is by no means always obvious, I can as a lifelong searcher and explorer myself concur; but the mistreatment of the mystery by one who shows so little evidence of actually having seriously investigated it, in the final analysis feels oddly weightless.
I also recently began reading 'The Miracle of Theism' by late Oxford Fellow and Reader of Philosophy, and atheist, JL Mackie. As a careful, fair and deeply thought through examination of the topic - within confines admittedly more philosophical than scientific - I can regard it seriously and with respect. Unfortunately TGD, for all RD's wit and flair, has not earned the same. I don't suppose my atheist readers will like any of this, but it leaves me wondering what it was that pulled down the blinkers for Mr Dawkins. Or at least prevented him from having a proper look.
'Dawkins simply offers the atheist equivalent of slick hellfire preaching, substituting turbocharged rhetoric and highly selective manipulation of facts for careful, evidence-based thinking... surprisingly little scientific analysis... a lot of pseudo-scientific speculation, linked with wider cultural criticisms of religion, mostly borrowed from older atheist writings', p10.
He goes on to note that Prospect magazine, whose reader survey as noted in the TGD fly leaf voted RD one of the world's three top intellectuals in Nov 2005, went on to carry a review of the book. Describing it as 'incurious, dogmatic, rambling and self-contradictory', the review was called 'Dawkins the dogmatist', p11.
A look at some specifics will await another post - the argument about probability in Chapter 4 'Why there almost certainly is no God' - to which AM responds - is the part that intrigued me most and that I'd most want to go back to. A broad brush observation for now: RD is clearly and admirably passionate about science, and ponders the wonders of the world that are in its scope to reveal, with all the goggle-eyed delight of a child in a cathedral. But for some reason, he is unwilling seriously to explore even the possibility of another, dare I say it, yet more marvellous cathedral: the cathedral of the spirit, unlocked with the key of faith, where God in relationship might just be found. Not held at arm's length, ostracised, distorted and pilloried through misrepresentation (particularly of the OT) as a 'monster'; but, even modestly and hesitatingly, approached and explored as the majestic reality He might just be. God is by no means always obvious, I can as a lifelong searcher and explorer myself concur; but the mistreatment of the mystery by one who shows so little evidence of actually having seriously investigated it, in the final analysis feels oddly weightless.
I also recently began reading 'The Miracle of Theism' by late Oxford Fellow and Reader of Philosophy, and atheist, JL Mackie. As a careful, fair and deeply thought through examination of the topic - within confines admittedly more philosophical than scientific - I can regard it seriously and with respect. Unfortunately TGD, for all RD's wit and flair, has not earned the same. I don't suppose my atheist readers will like any of this, but it leaves me wondering what it was that pulled down the blinkers for Mr Dawkins. Or at least prevented him from having a proper look.
Tuesday, 5 February 2008
Who's deluded about God?
Ok, by popular request - thanks Lee - I'm back with a post. Lately I've been reading Richard Dawkins' 'The God Delusion' and Alister McGrath's much shorter rebuttal, 'The Dawkins Delusion'. One of the first things that's struck me is the contrast in the quality of scientific reviewers the two authors were able to acquire to endorse their books. Harvard experimental psychologist Stephen Pinker looks like the most eminent scientific reviewer for TGD, but he only describes it as 'a characteristically elegant book' - no actual critique of RD's approach to religion at all. Next best is science journalist Matt Ridley, who offers a typical, Dawkins school, ill-informed unconsidered false dichotomy between 'faith, spirit and superstition' and 'truth'. Beyond these two, RD has had to rely for concurring anti-religion praise on three celebrity names who aren't scientists at all: Philip Pullman, a fantasy author; Brian Eno, a musician; and Derren Brown, an illusionist!
Contrast the line-up of McGrath's reviewers, and the specificity of their criticims: Francis Collins, Director of the Human Genome Project: 'dismantles the argument that science should lead to atheism... has abandoned his much-cherished rationality'; Owen Gingerich, Professor of Astronomy at Harvard: 'demonstrates the gaps, inconsistencies and surprising lack of depth in Dawkins' arguments; and Michael Ruse, Professor of Philosophy at Florida State University: 'TGD makes me embarrassed to be an atheist, and the McGraths show why.'
Out of time - much more to say on this - but lastly, one of McGrath's chief points is that the mainstream of the scientific community has long recognised that nature is open to interpretation of varying kinds; atheist Stephen Jay Gould was 'absolutely clear that the natural sciences - including evolutionary theory - were consistent with both atheism and conventional religious belief'.
Contrast the line-up of McGrath's reviewers, and the specificity of their criticims: Francis Collins, Director of the Human Genome Project: 'dismantles the argument that science should lead to atheism... has abandoned his much-cherished rationality'; Owen Gingerich, Professor of Astronomy at Harvard: 'demonstrates the gaps, inconsistencies and surprising lack of depth in Dawkins' arguments; and Michael Ruse, Professor of Philosophy at Florida State University: 'TGD makes me embarrassed to be an atheist, and the McGraths show why.'
Out of time - much more to say on this - but lastly, one of McGrath's chief points is that the mainstream of the scientific community has long recognised that nature is open to interpretation of varying kinds; atheist Stephen Jay Gould was 'absolutely clear that the natural sciences - including evolutionary theory - were consistent with both atheism and conventional religious belief'.
Monday, 4 February 2008
News
As Lee commented in my last post, this blog has indeed gone a little quiet. It must be the hibernation instinct (plus a bad cold); hopefully with the lightening days - did you notice? - I'll be emerging from my burrow a bit more. News: I have an interview 13th February, a week Weds, in Bradford for the Whistling Frog radio ministry, part of 'HCJB', a global organisation involved in media, education and healthcare. More in due course...
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