Vatican Intrigue: Life Imitates Art

Pontiff is about a plot to kill the pope.  Mixed into this a complicated subplot about financial misdealings and corruption in the Vatican.

So here we have screaming headlines about a plot to kill Pope Benedict

And here we have the New York Times reporting about a  leaked documents detailing financial misdealings and corruption in the Vatican.

You’d think they got their hands on an advance copy of my novel!

Of course, art is also imitating life, because there were financial misdealings and corruption at the Vatican Bank in the 1980s.  And papal assassination attempts are nothing new: John Paul II was shot, and there have been no end of conspiracy theories about the sudden death of John Paul I a month into his reign.  (The most likely explanation for discrepancies in the Vatican’s reports of his death is that they thought it unseemly that his body had been discovered by a nun. Quelle horreur!) There are some strange goings-on in Pontiff, but there are strange goings-on in the Vatican all the time.

Contraception (and Cushing and Wills and Montini)

Rereading this old obituary of Cardinal Cushing reminded me of his role in legalizing birth control in Massachusetts.  Here’s a quote via Andrew Sullivan:

I as a Catholic have absolutely no right in my thinking to foist through legislation or through other means, my doctrine of my church upon others. It is important to note that Catholics do not need the support of the civil law to be faithful to their religious convictions.

It was this position that made it possible for Catholic legislators in the late 1960s to vote to legalize birth control in Massachusetts.  You don’t get American archbishops saying stuff like that nowadays.

Here is Garry Wills in the New York Review of Books on the insanity of the Catholic church’s position on birth control.

When Paul reaffirmed the ban on birth control in Humanae Vitae (1968) there was massive rejection of it. Some left the church. Some just ignored it. Paradoxically, the document formed to convey the idea that papal teaching is inerrant just convinced most people that it can be loony. The priest-sociologist Andrew Greeley said that Humanae Vitae did more damage to the papacy than any of the so-called “liberal” movements in Catholicism. When Pius IX condemned democracy and modern science in his Syllabus of Errors (1864), the Catholic historian Lord Acton said that Catholics were too sensible to go crazy every time a pope does. The reaction to Humanae Vitae proves that.

I’m old enough to recall when Garry Wills was a conservative who wrote for National Review. He has long since come to his senses.

Thinking about Pontiff reminds me of my research on the papacy, which included reading about Paul VI.  Paul is in many ways a tragic figure.  He was certain that his stand on birth control (in which he overruled the majority of a papal commission that had studied the matter) was right, but he knew that it would in some ways destroy his papacy and cloud his legacy.  He believed that future generations would see that he was a prophet; over fifty years later, we know that he was wrong.  This is the stuff of fiction: a man willing to destroy himself for what he believes to be a noble cause — a cause that the rest of us know will create untold misery for millions. But, alas, it’s not fiction.

 

Pontiff upcoming

The next novel to turn into an e-book is Pontiff.  Those of you with the collected works of moi displayed proudly on your bookshelf will search them in vain for Pontiff. (Maybe I’ll talk about that some time.), so buying the e-book is the only way to get your  hands on the thing.  Like most of my stuff, it’s, like, a pulse-pounding thriller with twists and turns galore, plus some philosophical nattering on the margins.  Also, it has the best ending I ever wrote.

Maybe the second best.

Those of you who have been paying attention may have noticed a little, er, skepticism about religion popping up here and there.  So what’s up with writing a novel called Pontiff?  It’s another instance of writing about what you don’t know, I think.  I don’t have a religious bone in my body, but I find the psychology of religious belief fascinating, and writing fiction gives me a chance to imagine what it would be like to devote yourself to that belief.

There are all kinds of religious characters in Pontiff.  The title character, for example, is the first African pope, tortured for his faith in some unnamed African dictatorship and suddenly finding himself a compromise choice for the papacy.  That’s an imaginative stretch.  But the real imaginative stretch was the protagonist, Father Joe Hurley, who grew up in the Boston suburbs and left behind a job on Wall Street because he couldn’t shake the idea that he had a vocation.  Who does that anymore?  Well, some people clearly do.  Why?  Well, let’s write a novel and find out.  And, of course, as novels are supposed to do, we set up some interesting challenges to Hurley’s beliefs and his vocation (most prominently, a beautiful Boston policewoman) and see how he reacts.

Design

One more little thing from The Believing Brain — about the Argument from Design, which came up in our discussion of A Universe from Nothing (still waiting to be read).

Shermer discusses the results of a survey he did in which he asked people why they believe in God.  The top two reasons that people gave for why they believed in God were “the good design of the universe” and “the experience of God in everyday life.”

If we believe Shermer, of course, the belief in God came first, and the explanation for the belief came along later.  But it is interesting that the Argument from Design (as applied to the universe) is the first thing people tend to come up with.  I bet that, two hundred years ago, people would also have applied the Argument from Design to us, but evolution has made that much less plausible to people who aren’t prepared to dismiss science altogether; now religion has to accommodate itself to evolution.  But until recently, science had nothing to say about the origin of the universe, and that left religion free to claim it for a Designer.

David Hume in his Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion has the character Philo make some powerful arguments against the Argument from Design.  But even Philo wobbles towards the end — I imagine because, when Hume was writing in 1776, even a thoroughgoing skeptic couldn’t quite get past the miracle that is man. And it was impossible to completely dismiss the wonder of the creation.

Look round the world: contemplate the whole and every part of it: You will find it to be nothing but one great-machine, subdivided into an infinite number of lesser machines, which again admit of subdivisions to a degree beyond what human senses and faculties can trace and explain. All these various machines, and even their most minute parts, are adjusted to each other with an accuracy, which ravishes into admiration all men who have ever contemplated them. The curious adapting of means to ends, throughout all nature, resembles exactly, though it much exceeds, the productions of human contrivance; of human design, thought, wisdom, and intelligence. Since therefore the effects resemble each other, we are led to infer, by all the rules of analogy, that the causes also resemble; and that the Author of Nature is somewhat similar to the mind of man; though possessed of much larger faculties, proportioned to the grandeur of the work which he has executed. By this argument a posteriori, and by this argument alone, do we prove at once the existence of a Deity, and his similarity to human mind and intelligence.

Over time, if the new theories work out, I imagine more and more believers will leave behind “the good design of the universe” and center their belief on “the experience of God.”  But then, of course, you have the neuroscientists hard at work on that one….

Worship

Ralph Waldo Emerson sez:

A person will worship something, have no doubt about that. We may think our tribute is paid in secret in the dark recesses of our hearts, but it will come out. That which dominates our imaginations and our thoughts will determine our lives, and our character. Therefore, it behooves us to be careful what we worship, for what we are worshipping, we are becoming.

I thought of this quote in the context of the famous C.S. Lewis “Liar, Lunatic, or Lord” argument, quoted in The Believing Brain:

A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher.  He would either be a lunatic — on a level with a man who says He is a poached egg — or else He would be the Devil of Hell.  You must make your choice.  Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse.  You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God.

The language of this quote has always struck me as way over the top (without even getting into its dubious logic — are those the only possibilities on offer?).  It seems to me that not everyone is a worshipper, no matter what Emerson says.  But apparently there are lots of folks who must worship someone or something.  Francis Collins seems to be one of them; Lewis had a profound impact on his conversion.

The Believing Brain

The Believing Brain by Michael Shermer has jumped to the front of the reading queue.  It’s about how and why we believe.  This seems to me to be central, not just to discussions of religion, but also to politics, and, well, just about everything.  I’m convinced that conservatives (for example) simply see the world differently from the way I see it.

Shermer was deeply religious for a while but became a skeptic; his book doesn’t appear to be a mere debunking of faith, though (I’m 60 pages in).  In fact, he begins with a sympathetic interview with Francis Collins, the head of the NIH whose beliefs went in exactly the opposite direction.  But Shermer’s point of view can’t be comforting to believers: he believes that evolution didn’t develop our brains to be rational, but to find patterns.  And it’s better to find patterns that aren’t there than to miss one and end up being eaten.  So we extrapolate from coincidences to a belief in ESP; we generalize from an inexplicable experience to a belief in God.

Science is the answer–discovering if the patterns we see match reality.  But it’s a hard slog to get people to accept science when it contradicts their beliefs.  A hundred and fifty years on, a majority of Americans still don’t believe in evolution.

Anyway, this is all an excuse to embed a U2 video.

I can’t see what you see when I look at the world.

God of the Gaps

There is much to ponder in Jeff’s recent fine comment on Liberal Religion.  Here’s one part that I’d like to ruminate on:

There’s so much we don’t know, scientifically — from the number of actual physical dimensions to perhaps the most basic question of all: Is this universe the only one there is? If it’s not, are there points of intersection between our universe and others?

Here’s a rough taxonomy of how religious people deal with science:

Some of them recognize that science (maybe broadly construed to include historical evidence) presents a problem for their beliefs.  So they attack it head-on.  They dispute the evidence; they challenge the science.  At an extreme, they discard Occam’s Razor altogether and say stuff like, “God put the fossils there to fool scientists.”  These are the folks that make liberal theologians uncomfortable, and they often claim that the New Atheists are simply aiming their fire at these easy targets.

Some folks don’t try to fight with science; they accept scientific knowledge and figure out a way to accommodate their religious beliefs with it.  If you’re a deist, that’s easy — you just say that God flipped the switch, and everything else that happened after that belongs to science.  But most folks are theists, and they believe that God plays an active role in our existence.  So they need to work harder to justify/explain how this works.  These folks may believe in evolution, but they’ll say that evolution is part of God’s plan, and maybe He breathed souls into a couple of early hominids to get His process going.  This kind of approach strikes some as sophisticated theology; for others of us, it comes across as tortuous and unnecessary (as well as fundamentally unprovable in scientific terms).  It’s more of a rear-guard action than a head-on battle.

Then there are the God of the Gaps folks. There’s so much that science hasn’t explained; at an extreme, perhaps science is in principle incapable of explaining certain things. So we can have a theological explanation of that stuff–until, alas, science gets around to explaining it.  Then the God of the Gaps folks have to retreat to accommodationism.  This, I assume, is what’s going to happen with discussions around the origins of the universe.  Used to be that theologians could say, well, OK, evolution explains a lot.  But it doesn’t explain why we’re here in the first place.  It doesn’t explain why anything is here.  There needs to be an Uncaused Cause.  But now we see science marching towards an explanation of ultimate causality.  Maybe it isn’t quite there yet.  As the New Scientist review suggests, maybe multiverses are an explanation; and I expect we’ll see sophisticated theologians making the case for how multiverses are compatible with their beliefs.  For those familiar with my oeuvre (all three or four of you),Forbidden Sanctuary explores an aspect of this, although multiverses weren’t part of the scientific discourse at the time.

And then there are the NOMA folks, who who simply assert that science and religion are about different things. Science in principle simply has nothing to say about religion (or morality or ultimate meaning).

My sense is that most religious people, to the extent that they worry about such things at all, will unsystematically use any of these approaches, depending on the state of play of a particular issue.  If they can use scientific evidence to support their faith, they will.  If not, they will try to use lack of scientific evidence.  If not, they will simply assert that scientific evidence simply doesn’t count.  They still believe.  And that’s a feature, not a bug.  Blessed are they who did not see, and yet believed.

And ultimately, I think, that’s the heart of the matter.

Liberal Religion?

Another fine comment:

Rich, I’m surprised to see you characterize the “proof from experience” position as “a standard liberal approach to faith.”  It seems to me anything but.  It’s closer to the evangelical approach (though I hasten to add that it has nothing at all to do with commonly perceived political stances of American evangelicals). It’s the approach that says, “I have known God in a personal way,” which renders the questions of existential proof academic. Where you might justifiably point to a parallel with liberal theology is in the belief that science and faith can coexist just fine….

The question of how to know if one is hearing God right is certainly a thorny one. The smart person applies many checks and balances, including the use of one’s own brainpower.  After all, as someone said — Jesus came to take away our sins, not our minds.

I suppose I’m not experienced enough to be able to justify the word “standard.”  But it’s Karen Armstrong’s approach (and conservatives consider her scarcely different from an atheist).  And it’s the approach of the wonderful minister of the little Unitarian church I attend. And it seems to me to be the  only approach that can survive the advances of science.

Of course, it’s an approach that atheists treat with dismissive scorn.  As Hitchens put it, “That which can be asserted without evidence can be dismissed without evidence.”  At least fundamentalists will engage on facts and evidence and philosophical argumentation.  You say that Krauss’s argument is barking up the wrong tree.  But what other tree should he be barking up?  Is there any such tree?

There was a thread a while back on some blogs I follow about whether there was any conceivable evidence that could come to light that would convince an atheist that God exists.  They were hard put to come up with anything, because a naturalistic explanation would always be available, and it would always be preferable (using Occam’s Razor) than a theistic explanation.  But conversely, it seems clear that no evidence or explanation or argumentation would convince someone with a personal experience of God that God doesn’t exist — that the experience was just a pattern of neuronal firings, different in outcome but not in kind from any other pattern.  So neither side has anything to say to the other….

But further, atheists would say that this approach empowers all religions, no matter how fanatical, because once you assert that religion exists in a realm outside reason and evidence, what is the standard for truth and falsity?  Armstrong seems to believe that there is one truth, and all religions are different ways of perceiving that truth.  So she gives religions a pass on the various atrocities committed in their names — these don’t represent the essential truth of religions.  But how does she know what that truth is?  How does she know which moral beliefs should be condemned and which should be supported?  You use your brain power.  But I have met many very smart Jesuits whose brain power leads them to different conclusions from yours.  Who should I believe?

Anyway, go Patriots!

Science and Religion

One of my many fine readers comments thusly on the quote in this post:

Not an unreasonable argument, but irrelevant to the question of whether God exists. Most believers I know give a big yawn to the question of whether scientific cosmology or evolutionary biology actively support the supposition of God’s existence. Science can’t prove (or disprove) God’s existence, and to expect it to is a wrong-headed approach to both science and faith. For the people I know, the proof comes from the experience of God’s presence. Sometimes it’s a life-changing, single event that confirms the belief; sometimes it’s a slow but steady walk.

I love science, but these kinds of arguments are barking up the wrong tree.

This is, I take it, a standard liberal approach to faith.  It’s Karen Armstrong’s case for God.  Let’s not worry about evidence, scientific or historical; let’s not worry about philosophical arguments.  God is beyond all that — ineffable, transcendent, mysterious, encountered in prayer and meditation and ritual.  It is, I suppose, the only stand that religion can take in the face of science’s encroachments on the arguments religion used to make (and to which Krauss is responding), and it must be utterly convincing to those who have encountered God in this way.

But it scares me.  Because private faith never stays out of the public sphere.  And these encounters with God often go far beyond the experience of His presence, resulting in a cacophony of conflicting accounts and beliefs.  And religions always and everywhere claim privileges based on what these encounters reveal to their adherents.  Armstrong endorses Stephen Jay Gould’s concept of nonoverlapping magisteria (NOMA), which he describes thus:

The net of science covers the empirical universe: what is it made of (fact) and why does it work this way (theory). The net of religion extends over questions of moral meaning and value. These two magisteria do not overlap, nor do they encompass all inquiry (consider, for starters, the magisterium of art and the meaning of beauty). To cite the arch cliches, we get the age of rocks, and religion retains the rock of ages; we study how the heavens go, and they determine how to go to heaven.

But how does the experience of God’s presence privilege religion to speak about how to go to heaven?  Where does the privilege end?  If God tells a parent to deny healthcare to her child, is that OK?  It’s religion’s magisterium, after all.  If God forbids a pharmacist to sell birth control, who are we to tell him that’s wrong?

Not that I impute any such beliefs to my very fine reader, whom I wish the best of health.