The Burden of Faith

Written by Gary (April 29, 2006)

What is truth? Truth may be said to be That which is true. Let us see if we can enlarge the scope and, thus, the utility of this observation. The line between objective and subjective has, of late, been a cause of great upheaval in this country. Darwin observed that animals evolve, from one generation to the next, by a process called natural selection. Giraffes, for example, subsist by eating leaves off of trees. In any generation, giraffes with longer necks are able to eat higher, and thus more, leaves; they, these long-necked giraffes, then have a greater chance of survival than their unfortunately shorter-necked contemporaries. The breeding pool for giraffes, then, will from one generation to the next be composed of those that survive. Over generations, the necks of giraffes will grow longer and longer. Length beyond which is useful will, however, be maladaptive, and hence the mean length of neck will normalize, over time, at the height of the trees.

We understand this process anecdotally, by looking at our families. We see, in our siblings, in our offspring, in our forebears, absolutely recognizable, inherited dispositions and abilities. We applaud the good (Aha, theres Aunt Bettys musical talent) and decry the bad (Yep, she has the same cant get startedism as Uncle Ben.)

We see this particular aspect of the species (our family) in a constant struggle between good characteristics (generally understood as those I possess) and the maladaptive ones (those shown by the unfortunate members of our family, who are nothing but a bunch of bums). We all carry genetic characteristics that influence behavior, and the gene pool throws us random variations, which are constantly at war with each other. Darwin encapsulated this contest as an example of randomness, which eventuated in the progression, generation to generation, of the species toward a better adaptation with its environment.

A theologian or philosopher might as easily suggest that at work was a beautiful divine mechanism, a mysterious progression toward a perfect harmony between man and his world. Yet there are fundamentalist Christian groups who call this view blasphemy. Man, the hold, was created whole and entire, descending from no other species and progressing, from the Garden of Eden to this date, in no wise whatsoever. They base this view on the reading of Genesis.

Genesis, however, could easily be read as a record of evolution. The story begins with an undifferentiated cell, the first cell, made up of waters. The waters are then divided by a rakia, a membrane, and the cell is separated into waters beneath and waters above. Sea creatures are brought into the world, then creatures that crawl on the land, then animals, and, finally, man.

This is a startling, intuitive, and scientifically correct rendition of life on earth. And a fundamentalist could easily argue, from Genesis, for the theory of evolution.

No, however, we are told. Every word in the Bible is literally true, and must be understood as such.

But the Bible also says that an unruly child must be taken outside the camp and stoned to death, that a man must marry his brothers widow, that a servant who does not desire to quit in indentureship must have an awl driven through his ear and into the door, et cetera. The fundamentalists do not believe in these aspects of the Bible, not, I think, do they practice them.

They understood, as rational beings, that, perhaps, these are poetical, and should be treated as such; or that these practices are outdated, and must be approached with common sense. Why, then, is the story of evolution of man exempt and sacrosanct? If all meaning is the Bible is not to be taken literally (even for the fundamentalists, whatever their doctrinal explications may suggest), then need one not admit, in vehemence about certain passages inviolability, that a choice has been made? And by whom was the choice made?

Grant that the writ is holy, the choice has been made by man. And man, being different from God, must err.

The unfortunate error of the fundamentalists is their insistence, then, not upon the primacy of Holy Writ, but upon the primacy of received interpretation. In suggesting that they, in their strictness, glorify God, they in fact exalt man.



Is the Bible true? Is it blasphemy to call it a poem? Is it superstition to call it Holy Writ? Is it possible to hold views that allow us to call it both?

Fundamentalists insist that the Bible is literally true, and work politically to enforce that view upon the general populace. The reduction of absurdum of this view is that of the Muslim fundamentalists, who say of their Holy Writ: It is true and unerring. Abide by it, or we will kill you.

Both are attempts to deal not with faith but with uncertainty.

All life is contradiction; all life is struggle and growth. And the fundamentalists opposition to the theory of evolution may be understood as uncertainty about their place in the universe. The Bible may be turned from a text into a talisman, and the indignant may shout (as one might of the flag) love it or leave it; but this, rather than an invitation to the potential unity that the Bible (or the flag) might symbolize, is an invitation to fight. It is a war cry meaning ratify my view or risk my wrath.

Curiously, though, the Bible is a record not of certainty but of strife: Adam and Eve sin against God; Cain kills Abel; Abraham plots to murder (sacrifice) his child, Isaac; Jacob cheats Esau; Korah plots against Moses; and so on.

There is in the Humash (the five books of Moses) nothing but strife-a record of theft, murder, incest, treason, and rebellion. And yet, say the fundamentalists, it is Gods word; it is perfect and true.

And I agree with them. The Bible is perfect, but we human beings are not. Our capacity to understand is both limited and unusual. The simple animal understands the world as a) those things I can eat, and b) those things that can kill me. But we human beings have been created to wonder at things. The Bible is a record of that wonder. Its ancient questions-Why were we born? Where do we come from? Why do we die? Why do we love and yet live to strife?-are what distinguish us from the lower orders.

The capacity to err, to reflect, and to improve is the special gift we have received from God. To suggest that our understanding of anything is perfect may be seen as blasphemy, which unfortunate capacity might drive or induce us back to the Bible. A mystery cannot be addressed rationally. Our longing to approach the mystery (whether religious, artistic, or mechanical) brings us closer to that mystery.

The mystery may be Why are we born good, and inclined to sin? or What causes this disease? or Why does the wood grain grow in this way? The random distribution of talents is, or may be understood as, a divine insurance that each human would be inspired to pursue this mystery in a unique and wholly satisfying way-thus providing the possibility not only of a beautiful life for the individual but also of the growth and progression toward the ultimate good of the community.



Perhaps more useful than the statement The Bible is true is the statement The Bible exists to make us ask, What is true?

Evolution and intelligent design are both true.

They are each true in a different way.

The first is true, as it is scientifically verifiable. That is, there is a method by which we answer the question How do I know? This method involves replication. If the same intersection of circumstances invariably brings about the same predictable results, we may say that a proposition describing the interaction and its results is true (i.e., paper placed over a flame will burn).

There are also great truths that may not be objectively proved: A Back fugue is superior to a Wrigleys gum jingle, but there is no way in which the scientific method may be applied to prove this truth.

Each human being understands and utilizes both methods of understanding the world. Each is a tool, and the appropriate tool will be chosen and employed according to not only the issue but also the same issue at different times.

The agnostic asserts he does not know if there is a god, but, should the elevator fail, he will absolutely employ his newfound capacity for prayer; the fundamentalist says man did not evolve, and then devotes his energies to combating abortion, as he knows it to be true that man does evolve and that the embryo is a human being.

We know that there are many ways of discerning truth, and that one need not exclude the others. The fact that truth may be defined differently is not uncomfortable until it is brought to our attention and we are asked to choose. At this point absolute certainty ( I know I love my wife, and I know that 2 + 2 = 4) may become confusion.

Human beings forced (or politically manipulated) to choose science or religion may elect one camp or the other and live under its banner. Everyday life will be little affected by the choice of camp (the dying agnostic will still pray, and the financially confused businessman fundamentalist will still refer to his calculator before his Bible).

The current national debates over evolution, school prayer, and gay marriage are not moral debates (as the Rights would cast them); nor are they, as the Left holds, legal debates. They are a contest between two ways of perceiving the truth.

The fervor generated by this contest is, in large extent, rage on each side at finding oneself in and extreme, inflexible, and, finally, absurd position. The American Civil Liberties Union defends the rights of neo-Nazis to march through a community of Holocaust survivors; Christian fundamentalists defend the bombing of abortion clinics; and each side says of the other, Have you lost your mind?

The heat of this contest is both exploited for political ends and exacerbated by its own inertia. Neither reason nor belief will solve the conflict, for both sides know, finally, that the conflict is artificial.

A court may determine whether Jones or Smith owns the overcoat, but it may not rule that chocolate is better than vanilla.