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Science and Faith: A New Introduction
Lays out three distinct ways of responding to the main theological concerns and religious difficulties raised by the natural sciences today: conflict, contrast, and convergence.
- GenresTheologyPhilosophy
208 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2012
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About the author
John F. Haught
51 books37 followersJohn F. Haught is a Roman Catholic theologian, specializing with systematic theology. He has special interests in science, cosmology, ecology, and reconciling evolution and religion.
Haught graduated from St. Mary's Seminary and University in Baltimore,, and he received a PhD in Theology from The Catholic University of America in 1970.
Haught received the 2002 Owen Garrigan Award in Science and Religion, the 2004 Sophia Award for Theological Excellence, and, in 2009, the degree of Doctor Honoris Causa by the University of Leuven.
He is Senior Research Fellow at the Woodstock Theological Center at Georgetown University. There, he established the Georgetown Center for the Study of Science and Religion and was the chair of Georgetown's theology department between 1990 and 1995.
Haught graduated from St. Mary's Seminary and University in Baltimore,, and he received a PhD in Theology from The Catholic University of America in 1970.
Haught received the 2002 Owen Garrigan Award in Science and Religion, the 2004 Sophia Award for Theological Excellence, and, in 2009, the degree of Doctor Honoris Causa by the University of Leuven.
He is Senior Research Fellow at the Woodstock Theological Center at Georgetown University. There, he established the Georgetown Center for the Study of Science and Religion and was the chair of Georgetown's theology department between 1990 and 1995.
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Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews
December 14, 2020
Theistic evolutionary perspective presenting responses to questions from a conflict model, nonoverlapping magisteria (contrast) model; and convergence model.
August 11, 2013
One of the best books so far by John Haught. Clear. Concise. Engaging. Intellectually honest. And finally introducing a new concept of narrative cosmological principle. This is a must read book for all those who are interested in the dialogue between science and faith.
December 28, 2019
Georgetown philosophy professor John Haught (pronounced “How-ee”) has had a long and distinguished career. A brilliant expert in Bernard Lonergan when he was teaching at Loyola of Chicago, he has continued to push the limits of Catholic thought within Philosophy much as Karl Rahner, David Tracy, and Hans Kuhn have done in Theology. I particularly enjoyed his book on epistemology (with its accompanying remarks on Catholic Higher Education) even though the philosophical arguments were more important than the pedagogical arguments for me. Science and Faith: A New Introduction is a book I’ve already used when working with my youth and young adults in the ethnic evangelical church where I pastor.
I particularly like the idea that he takes difficult questions and looks at them from the anti-theist view (Conflict Perspective), from the traditional liberal viewpoint that the miraculous and supernatural are essentially metaphors – Contrast Perspective), and from the perspective that both science and faith can be studied and experienced together as a means to discover a greater faith (Convergence Perspective). In that order, Haught considers: a) the existence of a personal God, b) the evolutionary model, c) the veracity of miracles, d) the idea of creation, e) the possibilities for life, f) the basis of intelligence, f) if morality depends upon God, g) human distinctiveness, h) life after death, i) the meaning of the universe, and j) the possibility of extraterrestrial alien life forms.
In most cases, Haught is looking at the ideas of the “New Atheists” (“Anti-theists”) in the Conflict Perspective, but he notes early on that fundamentalist Christianity as well as the “materialistic reductionist” position of the “New Atheists” represents an irreversible polarization between science and faith. Haught shockingly notes that roughly half of Christians in the U.S. reject Darwinism in specific and science in general (p. 11). On the other hand, Haught recognizes that “…it is not science, but scientism, that conflicts with modern science.” (p. 15) By scientism, of course, Haught means the unscientific belief (faith?) that “anti-theism” is the only stance which is compatible with science.
How then can faith work with science? Haught cites the creedal statement, Deus semper major, as the belief that since God is greater than anything we can imagine, searching scientifically may well enlarge our capacity for understanding God (p. 32). He goes on to say, “…in our view, nature is not a meaningless collection of entities floating eternally and impersonally in space. It is an immense narrative that begs to be read at different levels, not only with the quantitative measurements of science but also with the dramatic concerns of faith.” (p. 33)
Indeed, Haught sums up his discussion of evolution in one key statement on p. 46: “And if God is love, as our traditions maintain, we should acknowledge that love does not coerce. Love allows the beloved to be and become itself. This means that God grants to creation, life, and human history room for spontaneity or indeterminacy and—in human persons—freedom to exist on their own and to be at least relatively self-determining.” In short, “Our human longing for an instantaneously finished world would suppress the drama, diversity, adventure, beauty—and, yes, tragedy—that evolution has wrought.” (p. 47)
In a related discussion, Haught considers the position of Frances Crick and others that Chemistry can explain life by itself. He calls this “reductionism” and observes, “We refer to our approach as ‘layered explanation,” and we define reductionism as the suppression of layered explanation.” (p. 82) Haught then uses the production of the book we are discussing as an example of layered explanation with the first layer being the text on the printed page itself (p. 82) which exists in the second layer because he as the author wanted to share his concept of faith and science converging together but essentially exists because his publisher wanted him to write a book on the relationship of science and faith (p. 83). Although analogies should not be forced too literally, the Publisher conceives the book, puts a plan in motion, and provides the resources by both recruiting the author and paying the author an advance, as well as overseeing the book through production and paying for the printing. Meanwhile, the author is allowed to write what he wants (though the editors might have some say, some give and take) in shaping the book. Finally, we see the book as a completed work without realizing the process through which it “evolved.” In this sense, the Publisher would be the “creator,” the Author would be the process of creation working itself out in nature and humanity, and the Editors would represent checks and balances as the book evolves into the finished work we see. In this way, the Creator as Publisher allows the Creation as Author to participate in the Creator’s ongoing creation while divine laws and providential plans provide the parameters. There can even be changes in the Second and Third Editions (or higher) if the subject matter of the book isn’t petrified.
It appears to me that Haught is advocating a version of process philosophy where he doesn’t sacrifice the personal God (though many process philosophers and theologians take the panentheism of for which they argue too far). And though Haught introduces this illustration of “layered explanation” under the Contrast Perspective for this discussion, the analogy works for the Convergence Perspective as well. One major difference between Contrast and Convergence on this, however, would be that the Contrast Perspective, by definition, excludes the overlapping of science and faith such that this position, “…doesn’t look for divine influence in the gaps of life’s chemical makeup. … In layered explanation each level of understanding is logically distinct from the others and cannot be mapped onto or reduced into the others.” (p. 84) Unfortunately, for the Contrast Perspective, this limits the usefulness of the explanation because it is still subject to gaps in the evidence chain such as the many places where it isn’t clear how one species crossed over into another in the evolutionary chain.
In the chapter about human intelligence, Haught asks significant questions of the reductionists who insist that matter is all there is. “Is it reasonable to claim that mindlessness [pure chance and randomality] can be the final explanation of mind?” (p. 96) Again, he asks if the series of causal steps that produced your intelligence is a product of chance, “why should you trust that your mind can make any truthful claims at all here and now?” (pp. 96-97) He even quotes non-theist Richard Rorty as stating, “Truth, is as unDarwinian as the idea that every human being has a built-in moral compass—a conscience that swings free of both social history and intellectual luck.” (p. 97) In short, even though Haught sees value in evolution, he doesn’t see it as necessitating pure materialism/reductionism. I liked Haught’s observations on “Hope” toward the end of this chapter: “Hope is not the same thing as naïve optimism. Rather it is the most realistic stance the mind can take as it surveys a universe that is still coming into being.” (p. 103)
That dovetails with the telling point he makes in the chapter on moral goodness: “…you can become excited about your moral life if you first have a realistic hope that your life and actions can truly matter to the world that is still emerging and of which you are a part. You will be more inclined to be good if you first have a sense that you are contributing something significant to the ongoing work of creation.” (p. 116) Haught even restates my personal position that God wastes nothing to describe the growth we experience in living life whether succeeding or making mistakes. He observes: “Hope trusts that every event that makes up the cosmic drama is taken into the divine life immediately, everlastingly, and without fading. … God experiences everything faithfully and forever. To finite subjects every event fades into the past, and this is why we fear that we will be forgotten. But to God nothing is ever blotted out.” (p. 146)
These are just a few examples of Haught’s very consistent and insightful approach to the potential conflict between, contrast toward, or convergence of Science and Faith. This volume will become one of my permanent resources in both philosophy (particularly ethics) and theology. Some may be put off by the fact that Haught uses philosophical reasoning to assert the truth within the traditional Abrahamic faith rather than sticking with the Christian tradition, but it is valuable even in its broader perspective.
I particularly like the idea that he takes difficult questions and looks at them from the anti-theist view (Conflict Perspective), from the traditional liberal viewpoint that the miraculous and supernatural are essentially metaphors – Contrast Perspective), and from the perspective that both science and faith can be studied and experienced together as a means to discover a greater faith (Convergence Perspective). In that order, Haught considers: a) the existence of a personal God, b) the evolutionary model, c) the veracity of miracles, d) the idea of creation, e) the possibilities for life, f) the basis of intelligence, f) if morality depends upon God, g) human distinctiveness, h) life after death, i) the meaning of the universe, and j) the possibility of extraterrestrial alien life forms.
In most cases, Haught is looking at the ideas of the “New Atheists” (“Anti-theists”) in the Conflict Perspective, but he notes early on that fundamentalist Christianity as well as the “materialistic reductionist” position of the “New Atheists” represents an irreversible polarization between science and faith. Haught shockingly notes that roughly half of Christians in the U.S. reject Darwinism in specific and science in general (p. 11). On the other hand, Haught recognizes that “…it is not science, but scientism, that conflicts with modern science.” (p. 15) By scientism, of course, Haught means the unscientific belief (faith?) that “anti-theism” is the only stance which is compatible with science.
How then can faith work with science? Haught cites the creedal statement, Deus semper major, as the belief that since God is greater than anything we can imagine, searching scientifically may well enlarge our capacity for understanding God (p. 32). He goes on to say, “…in our view, nature is not a meaningless collection of entities floating eternally and impersonally in space. It is an immense narrative that begs to be read at different levels, not only with the quantitative measurements of science but also with the dramatic concerns of faith.” (p. 33)
Indeed, Haught sums up his discussion of evolution in one key statement on p. 46: “And if God is love, as our traditions maintain, we should acknowledge that love does not coerce. Love allows the beloved to be and become itself. This means that God grants to creation, life, and human history room for spontaneity or indeterminacy and—in human persons—freedom to exist on their own and to be at least relatively self-determining.” In short, “Our human longing for an instantaneously finished world would suppress the drama, diversity, adventure, beauty—and, yes, tragedy—that evolution has wrought.” (p. 47)
In a related discussion, Haught considers the position of Frances Crick and others that Chemistry can explain life by itself. He calls this “reductionism” and observes, “We refer to our approach as ‘layered explanation,” and we define reductionism as the suppression of layered explanation.” (p. 82) Haught then uses the production of the book we are discussing as an example of layered explanation with the first layer being the text on the printed page itself (p. 82) which exists in the second layer because he as the author wanted to share his concept of faith and science converging together but essentially exists because his publisher wanted him to write a book on the relationship of science and faith (p. 83). Although analogies should not be forced too literally, the Publisher conceives the book, puts a plan in motion, and provides the resources by both recruiting the author and paying the author an advance, as well as overseeing the book through production and paying for the printing. Meanwhile, the author is allowed to write what he wants (though the editors might have some say, some give and take) in shaping the book. Finally, we see the book as a completed work without realizing the process through which it “evolved.” In this sense, the Publisher would be the “creator,” the Author would be the process of creation working itself out in nature and humanity, and the Editors would represent checks and balances as the book evolves into the finished work we see. In this way, the Creator as Publisher allows the Creation as Author to participate in the Creator’s ongoing creation while divine laws and providential plans provide the parameters. There can even be changes in the Second and Third Editions (or higher) if the subject matter of the book isn’t petrified.
It appears to me that Haught is advocating a version of process philosophy where he doesn’t sacrifice the personal God (though many process philosophers and theologians take the panentheism of for which they argue too far). And though Haught introduces this illustration of “layered explanation” under the Contrast Perspective for this discussion, the analogy works for the Convergence Perspective as well. One major difference between Contrast and Convergence on this, however, would be that the Contrast Perspective, by definition, excludes the overlapping of science and faith such that this position, “…doesn’t look for divine influence in the gaps of life’s chemical makeup. … In layered explanation each level of understanding is logically distinct from the others and cannot be mapped onto or reduced into the others.” (p. 84) Unfortunately, for the Contrast Perspective, this limits the usefulness of the explanation because it is still subject to gaps in the evidence chain such as the many places where it isn’t clear how one species crossed over into another in the evolutionary chain.
In the chapter about human intelligence, Haught asks significant questions of the reductionists who insist that matter is all there is. “Is it reasonable to claim that mindlessness [pure chance and randomality] can be the final explanation of mind?” (p. 96) Again, he asks if the series of causal steps that produced your intelligence is a product of chance, “why should you trust that your mind can make any truthful claims at all here and now?” (pp. 96-97) He even quotes non-theist Richard Rorty as stating, “Truth, is as unDarwinian as the idea that every human being has a built-in moral compass—a conscience that swings free of both social history and intellectual luck.” (p. 97) In short, even though Haught sees value in evolution, he doesn’t see it as necessitating pure materialism/reductionism. I liked Haught’s observations on “Hope” toward the end of this chapter: “Hope is not the same thing as naïve optimism. Rather it is the most realistic stance the mind can take as it surveys a universe that is still coming into being.” (p. 103)
That dovetails with the telling point he makes in the chapter on moral goodness: “…you can become excited about your moral life if you first have a realistic hope that your life and actions can truly matter to the world that is still emerging and of which you are a part. You will be more inclined to be good if you first have a sense that you are contributing something significant to the ongoing work of creation.” (p. 116) Haught even restates my personal position that God wastes nothing to describe the growth we experience in living life whether succeeding or making mistakes. He observes: “Hope trusts that every event that makes up the cosmic drama is taken into the divine life immediately, everlastingly, and without fading. … God experiences everything faithfully and forever. To finite subjects every event fades into the past, and this is why we fear that we will be forgotten. But to God nothing is ever blotted out.” (p. 146)
These are just a few examples of Haught’s very consistent and insightful approach to the potential conflict between, contrast toward, or convergence of Science and Faith. This volume will become one of my permanent resources in both philosophy (particularly ethics) and theology. Some may be put off by the fact that Haught uses philosophical reasoning to assert the truth within the traditional Abrahamic faith rather than sticking with the Christian tradition, but it is valuable even in its broader perspective.
March 9, 2024
[Comentario publicado originalmente en Un Secreto Gigantesco]
Uno de los temas que más me han interesado siempre es el (supuesto) conflicto entre la ciencia y la fe, la fe y la razón, la religión y la ciencia. Por ese motivo, cuando me crucé con un tuitero que recomendaba varios libros sobre este tema no pude evitar lanzarle una pregunta: ¿Por cuál debería empezar? Así llegó «Ciencia y fe. Una nueva introducción« de John F. Haught a mi lista de libros pendientes y así fue cómo llegó a mis manos varios años después tras pedírselo a sus Majestades de Oriente.
¿Hay algún hilo argumental en el universo?
Ciencia y fe. Razón y fe. Mi interés por este nudo gordiano siempre ha sido de carácter vital. Habiendo crecido en una familia en la que la fe cristiana tenía un papel fundamental y dado mi carácter analítico-racional (que paradójicamente es en la práctica más bien emocional), este conflicto era el elefante en la habitación.
Durante gran parte de mi adolescencia viví buscando respuestas que desligaran ese nudo y pusieran nombre al elefante, pero mi falta de conocimientos filosóficos y el apriorismo cientificista de toda la enseñanza secundaria y bachiller (da igual que fuera a un colegio concertado católico), me hicieron vivir en una especie de dualidad materialista práctica-idealista religiosa. Nadie me enseñó en el colegio (o al menos yo no lo aprendí) a detectar falacias y esto para mí tenía consecuencias vitales (en el sentido más literal del término).
Si la ciencia se opone a la fe como aducen los apóstoles del cientificismo, esto tendría una serie de consecuencias para mi comportamiento moral. Si Dios no existe, ser bueno sería solo una convención y lo realmente importante sería que no me pillaran cuando no lo fuera. Si de veras existe una incompatibilidad entre la fe religiosa y aquello que podemos ver, tocar y medir en el mundo, esto tendría implicaciones para reconocer la existencia de todo aquello que experimentamos y no es material. La belleza de una estrella fugaz sólo dependería del sujeto del que la mira y la verdad de los hechos será lo que dicte un juez y nada más. El amor de una mujer sería una entelequia pues nunca podría estar seguro de que ella me quiere, así que para qué buscarlo. Ni siquiera podría estar seguro de que mis padres me quisieran (¿cómo lo demuestro científicamente?). Si mi existencia es exclusivamente fruto del azar, comamos y disfrutemos con todas las consecuencias, que ya algún día moriremos.
Un antídoto frente al reduccionismo
Sin embargo, algo dentro de mí se rebelaba ante ese materialismo. Esta insurrección en ese momento era puramente práctica, experimental, pues había experimentado el amor de mi familia, la belleza en la cima de una montaña, el bien en una corrección o la verdad en una amistad. Había cosas que existían que no podía demostrar empíricamente con el método científico y eso no implicaba que no existieran o no fueran reales. Que no supiera conciliar lo que sabía de la evolución o el origen de la vida con el cristianismo no significaba que la respuesta no existiera y estuviera allí afuera.
Ciencia y fe vistas por John F. Haught
Creo que John F. Haught, catedrático de Teología de la Universidad de Georgetown y autor del libro «Ciencia y fe. Una nueva introducción», alguna vez se tuvo que hacer preguntas similares porque ha escrito una obra en la que explora el diálogo entre la ciencia y la fe de una forma muy perspicaz y ordenada. Lo primero que hace es establecer un marco fundamental, las tres posturas principales con que la gente que se toma en serio la ciencia conecta esta con el mundo de la fe:
- Conflicto. La fe y la ciencia son opuestas e irreconciliables.
- Contraste. La ciencia y la fe son distintas, no se oponen entre sí y cada una tiene su ámbito de actuación, por lo que no puede haber conflicto.
- Convergencia. La ciencia y la fe son distintas pero, aun así, pueden interactuar de forma productiva. Pueden tener un diálogo continuo y posibilitar una perspectiva con más matices.
Establecido este marco, el libro consiste en desgranar una serie de temas controvertidos con sensibilidad y rigor intelectual, tomando el punto de vista de cada uno de estos tres enfoques. ¿Es la fe compatible con la evolución? ¿Realmente suceden milagros? ¿Excluye la ciencia la existencia de un Dios personal? ¿Puede la química por sí sola explicar la vida? ¿Puede la ciencia explicar la inteligencia? ¿Podemos ser buenos sin Dios? ¿Hay vida después de la muerte? Podría seguir pero creo que te haces una idea, querido lector. Haught aporta una mirada apasionada y no exenta de sentido sobre todos estos temas que ayuda a deshacer el nudo gordiano del materialismo cientificista.
El universo físico tiene una edad de 13.700 millones de años
La estructura del libro en base a la realización de una pregunta y su respuesta según los tres enfoques hacen la obra accesible y, en cierto modo, también cautivadora. Uno no puede evitar intentar contraargumentar la postura del conflicto o pedirle un poco más a la postura del contraste. En este sentido, el enfoque de la convergencia me ha resultado muy estimulante, pues integra los descubrimientos científicos de tal manera que es capaz de encontrar un sentido religioso en el drama de la naturaleza.
Sí, un universo que tiene más de drama que de diseño milimétrico, que tiene más de narración que de arquitectura infalible. Un universo de 13.700 millones de años en el que si toda su existencia se contuviera en 30 libros de 450 páginas, cada página equivaldría a un millón de años y los humanos modernos habríamos aparecido en la página 450 del último volumen. Este hecho por sí solo ya debería derribar nuestros ídolos de madera (o de oro) y hacernos caer en la cuenta de quiénes somos realmente, de nuestra pequeñez y de lo remotamente improbable que es la vida.
Conclusión
John F. Haught ha escrito un libro claro, ordenado, absorbente y no exento de pasión sobre uno de los temas más controvertidos (y tristemente incomprendidos) que atañen al ser humano: el diálogo fe y ciencia. Si la postura cientificista-materialista que parece primar en el mundo científico no te convence pero reconoces el valor de la ciencia bien hecha, este libro no te va a defraudar. Si alguna vez te encontraste con un elefante en la habitación atado a un poste con un nudo gordiano y te creíste que la fe y la ciencia necesariamente han de correr por caminos separados, este libro tiene la capacidad de retarte. Si te cautiva la verdad y estás siempre abierto a explorar el fascinante cruce entre la ciencia y la religión, este libro ofrece una valiosa contribución al debate.
P.D: la mayoría vemos que la vida es un drama (no hace falta más que abrir un poco los ojos) y, si reflexionamos un poco más, vemos que es un drama de dimensiones cósmicas. Y todo buen drama precisa de un narrador, ¿o no?
Uno de los temas que más me han interesado siempre es el (supuesto) conflicto entre la ciencia y la fe, la fe y la razón, la religión y la ciencia. Por ese motivo, cuando me crucé con un tuitero que recomendaba varios libros sobre este tema no pude evitar lanzarle una pregunta: ¿Por cuál debería empezar? Así llegó «Ciencia y fe. Una nueva introducción« de John F. Haught a mi lista de libros pendientes y así fue cómo llegó a mis manos varios años después tras pedírselo a sus Majestades de Oriente.
¿Hay algún hilo argumental en el universo?
Ciencia y fe. Razón y fe. Mi interés por este nudo gordiano siempre ha sido de carácter vital. Habiendo crecido en una familia en la que la fe cristiana tenía un papel fundamental y dado mi carácter analítico-racional (que paradójicamente es en la práctica más bien emocional), este conflicto era el elefante en la habitación.
Durante gran parte de mi adolescencia viví buscando respuestas que desligaran ese nudo y pusieran nombre al elefante, pero mi falta de conocimientos filosóficos y el apriorismo cientificista de toda la enseñanza secundaria y bachiller (da igual que fuera a un colegio concertado católico), me hicieron vivir en una especie de dualidad materialista práctica-idealista religiosa. Nadie me enseñó en el colegio (o al menos yo no lo aprendí) a detectar falacias y esto para mí tenía consecuencias vitales (en el sentido más literal del término).
Si la ciencia se opone a la fe como aducen los apóstoles del cientificismo, esto tendría una serie de consecuencias para mi comportamiento moral. Si Dios no existe, ser bueno sería solo una convención y lo realmente importante sería que no me pillaran cuando no lo fuera. Si de veras existe una incompatibilidad entre la fe religiosa y aquello que podemos ver, tocar y medir en el mundo, esto tendría implicaciones para reconocer la existencia de todo aquello que experimentamos y no es material. La belleza de una estrella fugaz sólo dependería del sujeto del que la mira y la verdad de los hechos será lo que dicte un juez y nada más. El amor de una mujer sería una entelequia pues nunca podría estar seguro de que ella me quiere, así que para qué buscarlo. Ni siquiera podría estar seguro de que mis padres me quisieran (¿cómo lo demuestro científicamente?). Si mi existencia es exclusivamente fruto del azar, comamos y disfrutemos con todas las consecuencias, que ya algún día moriremos.
Un antídoto frente al reduccionismo
Sin embargo, algo dentro de mí se rebelaba ante ese materialismo. Esta insurrección en ese momento era puramente práctica, experimental, pues había experimentado el amor de mi familia, la belleza en la cima de una montaña, el bien en una corrección o la verdad en una amistad. Había cosas que existían que no podía demostrar empíricamente con el método científico y eso no implicaba que no existieran o no fueran reales. Que no supiera conciliar lo que sabía de la evolución o el origen de la vida con el cristianismo no significaba que la respuesta no existiera y estuviera allí afuera.
La prueba de que la vida es más que química se encuentra en la disposición de las «letras» del ADN de las células vivas. El aspecto informativo de las células depende de la secuencia específica de las cuatro letras del ADN (A, T, G, C). El análisis químico no puede revelarnos por qué las letras se organizan de tal o cual manera. Los factores químicos que unen los átomos en el ADN funcionan de la misma forma en todas las células vivas, pero la secuencia específica de las letras del ADN no está determinada por procesos químicos. […] Esta diferencia informativa es suficiente para demostrar que la vida es más que «solo química».
CIENCIA Y FE. UNA NUEVA INTRODUCCIÓN (JOHN F. HAUGHT). CAPÍTULO 6: ¿PUEDE LA QUÍMICA POR SÍ SOLA EXPLICAR LA VIDA? (P. 91).
Ciencia y fe vistas por John F. Haught
Creo que John F. Haught, catedrático de Teología de la Universidad de Georgetown y autor del libro «Ciencia y fe. Una nueva introducción», alguna vez se tuvo que hacer preguntas similares porque ha escrito una obra en la que explora el diálogo entre la ciencia y la fe de una forma muy perspicaz y ordenada. Lo primero que hace es establecer un marco fundamental, las tres posturas principales con que la gente que se toma en serio la ciencia conecta esta con el mundo de la fe:
- Conflicto. La fe y la ciencia son opuestas e irreconciliables.
- Contraste. La ciencia y la fe son distintas, no se oponen entre sí y cada una tiene su ámbito de actuación, por lo que no puede haber conflicto.
- Convergencia. La ciencia y la fe son distintas pero, aun así, pueden interactuar de forma productiva. Pueden tener un diálogo continuo y posibilitar una perspectiva con más matices.
Establecido este marco, el libro consiste en desgranar una serie de temas controvertidos con sensibilidad y rigor intelectual, tomando el punto de vista de cada uno de estos tres enfoques. ¿Es la fe compatible con la evolución? ¿Realmente suceden milagros? ¿Excluye la ciencia la existencia de un Dios personal? ¿Puede la química por sí sola explicar la vida? ¿Puede la ciencia explicar la inteligencia? ¿Podemos ser buenos sin Dios? ¿Hay vida después de la muerte? Podría seguir pero creo que te haces una idea, querido lector. Haught aporta una mirada apasionada y no exenta de sentido sobre todos estos temas que ayuda a deshacer el nudo gordiano del materialismo cientificista.
El universo físico tiene una edad de 13.700 millones de años
La estructura del libro en base a la realización de una pregunta y su respuesta según los tres enfoques hacen la obra accesible y, en cierto modo, también cautivadora. Uno no puede evitar intentar contraargumentar la postura del conflicto o pedirle un poco más a la postura del contraste. En este sentido, el enfoque de la convergencia me ha resultado muy estimulante, pues integra los descubrimientos científicos de tal manera que es capaz de encontrar un sentido religioso en el drama de la naturaleza.
En cualquier drama verdadero, incluido el de la vida, es indispensable un elemento de contingencia, espontaneidad e imprevisibilidad. El azar no es un absurdo, como supone el contraste, ni una ilusión, como cree el conflicto. Antes al contrario, el azar en la evolución es esencial para que la vida sea el drama que es. Teológicamente, la existencia del azar es lo que debemos esperar de una historia de la vida que sea coherente con nuestra confianza en un Dios compasivo y alentador que mantiene abierto el futuro.
CIENCIA Y FE. UNA NUEVA INTRODUCCIÓN (JOHN F. HAUGHT). CAPÍTULO 3: ¿ES LA FE COMPATIBLE CON LA EVOLUCIÓN? (P. 46).
Sí, un universo que tiene más de drama que de diseño milimétrico, que tiene más de narración que de arquitectura infalible. Un universo de 13.700 millones de años en el que si toda su existencia se contuviera en 30 libros de 450 páginas, cada página equivaldría a un millón de años y los humanos modernos habríamos aparecido en la página 450 del último volumen. Este hecho por sí solo ya debería derribar nuestros ídolos de madera (o de oro) y hacernos caer en la cuenta de quiénes somos realmente, de nuestra pequeñez y de lo remotamente improbable que es la vida.
Conclusión
John F. Haught ha escrito un libro claro, ordenado, absorbente y no exento de pasión sobre uno de los temas más controvertidos (y tristemente incomprendidos) que atañen al ser humano: el diálogo fe y ciencia. Si la postura cientificista-materialista que parece primar en el mundo científico no te convence pero reconoces el valor de la ciencia bien hecha, este libro no te va a defraudar. Si alguna vez te encontraste con un elefante en la habitación atado a un poste con un nudo gordiano y te creíste que la fe y la ciencia necesariamente han de correr por caminos separados, este libro tiene la capacidad de retarte. Si te cautiva la verdad y estás siempre abierto a explorar el fascinante cruce entre la ciencia y la religión, este libro ofrece una valiosa contribución al debate.
P.D: la mayoría vemos que la vida es un drama (no hace falta más que abrir un poco los ojos) y, si reflexionamos un poco más, vemos que es un drama de dimensiones cósmicas. Y todo buen drama precisa de un narrador, ¿o no?
February 4, 2025
Decent.
Haught delineates three approaches to science and faith: conflict, contrast, and convergence. The first puts science and faith in opposition to one another, like the New Atheists who decry religion because it is allegedly disproved by science. The contrast position sets science and faith in contrast, arguing they concern different realms. Hence, the conflict position is reductionistic and assumes a kind of scientism or methodological naturalism. The convergence position recognises the distinction between the different focuses of science and faith that the conflict position draws, yet seeks to put science and faith in dialogue.
The author obviously argues for the convergence position as the more sophisticated position. He thereby sometimes strawmans the other two positions. Something like a Zondervan Counterpoints format might be better. I disagree with the contrast position because it borrows a lot from Christian existentialism; for instance, stating that the historicity of Christ's resurrection is secondary to its life-transforming implications. Tell that to Paul and 1 Corinthians 15. The convergence position incorrectly converges science and faith. For instance, it (and probably with Haught's support) makes the astonishing claim that evolutionary biology affects theology insofar as we may have to rethink all of theology in evolutionary terms! This rethinking obviously affects theology proper, entailing process theology in that area, or perhaps even soteriology. Maybe Christ's atonement is not once for all but involves gradual evolution throughout the ages! Haught's reasoning, untethered from Scriptural support (shown by his description of faith as the Abrahamic religions generically), results in such theological errors. These errors are heretical at worse and heterodox at best.
Haught delineates three approaches to science and faith: conflict, contrast, and convergence. The first puts science and faith in opposition to one another, like the New Atheists who decry religion because it is allegedly disproved by science. The contrast position sets science and faith in contrast, arguing they concern different realms. Hence, the conflict position is reductionistic and assumes a kind of scientism or methodological naturalism. The convergence position recognises the distinction between the different focuses of science and faith that the conflict position draws, yet seeks to put science and faith in dialogue.
The author obviously argues for the convergence position as the more sophisticated position. He thereby sometimes strawmans the other two positions. Something like a Zondervan Counterpoints format might be better. I disagree with the contrast position because it borrows a lot from Christian existentialism; for instance, stating that the historicity of Christ's resurrection is secondary to its life-transforming implications. Tell that to Paul and 1 Corinthians 15. The convergence position incorrectly converges science and faith. For instance, it (and probably with Haught's support) makes the astonishing claim that evolutionary biology affects theology insofar as we may have to rethink all of theology in evolutionary terms! This rethinking obviously affects theology proper, entailing process theology in that area, or perhaps even soteriology. Maybe Christ's atonement is not once for all but involves gradual evolution throughout the ages! Haught's reasoning, untethered from Scriptural support (shown by his description of faith as the Abrahamic religions generically), results in such theological errors. These errors are heretical at worse and heterodox at best.
January 27, 2019
Impressive
I really enjoyed this book for a few reasons. First we all need to ask questions about what we really believe and why. Unfortunately, these kinds of questions may be frowned upon in some fundamentalist faiths. There was scant mention of Buddhism, except in the chapter on life after death, and more concentration on monotheism, but that seemed to be a lack of familiarity more than deliberately avoiding.
There is nothing wrong with asking "what if" questions, and my favorite character was on the discovery of extraterrestrial life and it's impact on theology.
Finally, most faiths all over the world have not engaged with modernity and it's impact on theology. Science and evolution in particular have been singled out. Therefore, it was refreshing to see the author emphasize the difference between science and the philosophy of materialism. The author was correct in pointing out that the new atheists are attacking supernaturalism which is an immature faith. Mature faith is able to ask these questions since faith and science do not not have to be mutually exclusive.
I really enjoyed this book for a few reasons. First we all need to ask questions about what we really believe and why. Unfortunately, these kinds of questions may be frowned upon in some fundamentalist faiths. There was scant mention of Buddhism, except in the chapter on life after death, and more concentration on monotheism, but that seemed to be a lack of familiarity more than deliberately avoiding.
There is nothing wrong with asking "what if" questions, and my favorite character was on the discovery of extraterrestrial life and it's impact on theology.
Finally, most faiths all over the world have not engaged with modernity and it's impact on theology. Science and evolution in particular have been singled out. Therefore, it was refreshing to see the author emphasize the difference between science and the philosophy of materialism. The author was correct in pointing out that the new atheists are attacking supernaturalism which is an immature faith. Mature faith is able to ask these questions since faith and science do not not have to be mutually exclusive.
June 25, 2021
Haught shines in his ability to methodically lay out the three fundamental arguments surrounding the relationship between science and theology. At times more complex arguments are sacrificed for accessibility, and by the later chapters I found myself starting to tune out. Repetition is key to memory, but the later chapters fall into a pattern of lengthy rehashing that began to drain my inspirstion to keep reading.
Overall, it was an enlightening read.
Overall, it was an enlightening read.
November 4, 2016
Haught's "Science and Faith" really appealed to me in the way that the arguments were presented from specific perspectives. In most works addressing this area of exploration, the reader must careful scrutinize the text for biases to more intimately understand and evaluate the argument. Haught is very clear in that the three separate responses to the questions he addresses are from those specific perspectives. This is made even more genuine in the use of role play as a Conflict, Contrast, and then Convergence advocate, which helps the reader see from each perspective. Through this, Haught demonstrates both his strong structure and flexibility of understanding arguments. This breakdown of spectrum was very personally useful to me as well. It helped me clearly see how I have developed from Conflict beliefs through to a more Convergent perspective. From what I've learned in my various classes, I have come to a personal conclusion that we cannot understand the entire truth of the universe through a single discipline. Before reading this book, I was struggling to reconcile what I was learning in my science and math classes with what I was learning in my humanities classes. I can see that there is more to this world than physical science, but truly reconciling these two spheres and blending them into a worldview through which to understand the world seemed nearly impossible to me. Haught's exploration into whether science and faith can coexist, even converse, is more relevant than ever. It puts into perspective how major a shift humans have gone through with the rise of science and its challenge of the once dominant religion. I recommend this book to anyone who is in a similarly confused place, anyone trying to figure out in which basket to put their eggs. Haught proved to me that it is okay to believe in a little bit of both science and faith.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 5, 2014
Haught attempts to reconcile Science and Religion (note capital letters)by comparing three different viewpoints: 1.Conflict-"Science has shown that everything can be explained by mechanistic laws so we don't need God, so God doesn't exist." 2. Contrast: "Science and religion don't deal with the same spheres of influence, so there's no real conflict." 3. Convergence "The Cosmic History is still unfolding, so we can hope that all will be revealed." The point of the book is to explain his idea of convergence and, while he has some intriguing ideas, I can't quite go with it. My own beliefs are closest to his "Contrast" group, but I give him points for trying to relate Faith to the 4.5 Billion Year Old Universe and tackling the question of "Humanity has appeared very very recently in terms of the Universe's history. So, how does our Faith relate to all the millions and millions of years before that?" He specifically talks only about the Abrahamic religions, so he doesn't concern himself with religions such as Buddhism and Hinduism. On the other hand, he doesn't differentiate between Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. This could be a problem for some readers. But, he calls this "an introduction" so maybe he has more to say.
October 11, 2015
The reason for giving only three stars is not that there was something I strongly disliked about the book, but rather that there was quite a bit I did not understand because of how abstract the discussion was. Some parts are very clear (e.g., possible relationships between science and religion that other commented on here) but at times I could not make much sense of the known words. Haught makes a convincing point that in light of the recent scientific achievements (in particular biology, physics/astronomy) many of the religious concepts need to be revisited and he touches on a few. What left me bewildered is his repeated references to God as "love" without giving his definition of what this love actually means once the discussion becomes so abstract. Another question posed but, as far as I can tell, left unanswered is how to understand and interpret suffering once the old (Christian) view that it is given for sins is no longer applicable (and, unless I am very wrong, Haught thinks that this old view is no longer sustainable). I also wish there were more focus on how to reconcile this new, highly abstract theology with a more "traditional", common-man understanding of Christianity. Maybe Haught has written a book just about that?
February 7, 2016
Obviously biased and doesn't seem to be very well researched either. I don't feel informed at all, and it was so hard to get through.
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