In the previous post we explored the benefits of getting our science and revelation story ducks in a row. We saw how scientific insight aids our interpretation of the Genesis creation accounts by better identifying the non-literal in the texts, ie metaphor and extended imagery. In other words, the tremendous power of these stories is amplified not diminished by contextually appropriate non-literal readings. All good.
But that’s still only one side of the equation. Whilst it’s an error roundly to dismiss science when it challenges literal readings of these texts, it’s equally erroneous to dismiss revealed truths on the grounds they’re not scientific. And as powerful as the scientific narrative is, Genesis tells the deeper, more important story aimed at addressing that cosmic Why?
One doesn’t need to be a believer to see that these stories are crammed with powerful insights over a whole range of questions which, whilst not strictly scientific in the modern sense, are nonetheless scientifically significant. An outstanding example would be Dr Jordan Peterson’s Genesis series. His analysis reveals how uncannily rooted in sound psychology these stories are. At the very least this should be cause for pause: for those attempting to use science to invalidate the wisdom found in these stories; for believers in communicating the basics of their faith to psychologically savvy truth-seekers.
We previously touched on the humour found in Hitchhiker’s. Well, it also contains more serious statements:
Isn’t it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?
Although this serves as the epigraph for that large, red and unaccountably popular herring that is The God Delusion, it’s still worthy of our attention. I like it for two reasons. Firstly, it gets to the heart of the matter, and, secondly, it means I get to reflect upon Chesterton again.
On the first point, it’s a clever reworking of the invalidation argument identified above. In other words, there’s enough enchantment in nature without recourse to any fanciful supernatural stuff. It’s clever because framed as a rhetorical question which touches on a truth. It’s a fair point that certain forms of spirituality or approaches to the supernatural do falsely overshadow the natural and rob it of its rightful glow. However, it’s not so clever that it precludes the possibility of a straightforwardly honest riposte: no, it’s not enough; and, I don’t have to believe, I choose. It’s based on the false mathematics that fairies subtract rather than add. It’s also a little ironic that Adams wrote sci-fi stories: you know, stuff you make up that isn’t exactly real in order to communicate deeper realities that can’t be approached head-on. But, fair enough, it’s always worth considering what the fairies are bringing to the table.
Cue Chesterton…
My first and last philosophy, that which I believe in with unbroken certainty, I learnt in the nursery… The things I believed most then, the things I believe most now, are the things called fairy tales. They seem to me to be the entirely reasonable things. They are not fantasies… compared with them religion and rationalism are both abnormal, though religion is abnormally right and rationalism abnormally wrong… I knew the magic beanstalk before I had tasted beans; I was sure of The Man in the Moon before I was certain of the moon.1
Chesterton is getting at a similar thing we’ve already explored about story. Fairy tales might not be intended as literal but they are intended as serious, because they are condensations of wisdom, hyper-realisations, psychological ciphers, survival traditions. They represent the right ideas about things, consensus or common sense, the various perspectives and experiences of the many gathered into a memorable tale, epic, or rhyme which is always a story echoing a journey from ignorance to enlightenment. Nonsense is often mixed in precisely for contrast.
So, do fairies exist? Highly unlikely, and, absolutely! At the very least, they’re busy discreetly ferrying about the wisdom that can’t be squeezed into test tubes. After all, the idea of the moon is much harder to quantify than the moon itself.
But, it’s Chesterton’s contention that there’s something abnormally right about religion that’s worth exploring further. Because, of course, not every idea we have or everything that can be imagined has physical reality or should be believed, or believed in. It’s much more reasonable to assume that fairies aren’t literal. But only up until the moment one shakes you by the hand. Then it becomes grossly unreasonable.
To Genesis. The writers are essentially saying: here’s a story trying to describe how God shakes us by the hand. Chesterton’s abnormally right refers to Revelation. The creation stories quite obviously aren’t scientific accounts in the modern sense. They bear more resemblance to the wisdom traditions of fairy tales and mythologies. Which is why they’re often mistaken as such. However, fairy tales/mythologies/epic sagas represent the best of human storytelling whereas, first and foremost, God is telling His own story here through inspired humans.
It’s very difficult to define the genre of Creation Story One. It’s something like a hymnal/liturgical or poetic credal reflection. As such, it presents truths figuratively. The narrative form serves to enrich not weaken the truths. So, unlike pure fables, its power isn’t merely figurative or moral, and it absolutely contains truths directly relating to history and science. But its purpose is theological not scientific. Which is just as well since I suspect the average story is generally far more accessible than the average astrophysics treatise.
What, then, is the deeper vision relating to this Chestertonian abnormally right?
It should be clear that science cannot (is not designed to) lead us to the knowledge of a loving creator God and the truth that His love sustains the universe in being. Or answer why something exists rather than simply nothing. Or why any order exists rather than utter chaos. Or especially why we humans appear uniquely hardwired to seek answers to religious questions.
Creation One comes to meet these intuitions by telling a true story in stark elemental prose. It tells of the mighty El, unrivalled and kindly king, who has built a great temple palace for his cherished people. The beauty of these ordered courts is beyond breathtaking, ever raising the spirit in praise. It is a realm of safety, a domain from which chaos has been banished, and where all things flourish according to their nature. The King has marked out humanity by giving us this blessed domain for our inheritance: an immeasurable honour. All are welcome here, held equal in dignity, and even known by name. No one is disregarded or despised but rather cherished and loved. The King is, in fact, our Father and we bear the great dignity of being his children.
So, the universe is deep down lovely and good, and comes to us as gift. It can be experienced as something intended, nourishing, even personal. It isn’t a product of freak chance or brutal adaptation but rather of love, spoken forth in golden words. From the brightest star to the smallest blade of grass, all things are held in gently regarding hands. This can be sensed. Its vision confirmed not merely in temporal but in transcendent beauty. Even mysteriously entered into as a relationship. But not grasped or circumscribed or tightly defined in a definitive or empirical way. Because, in truth, proof has a very broad character in human affairs. How do we definitively evidence love, truth, beauty, justice, integrity, empathy, humility, courtesy, courage, resilience, reflectiveness, kindness, ambition? What final proofs are there for any of these, yet good luck living without them!
Yes, true stories can have factual inaccuracies and myths can be full of scientific errors. Yet, to dismiss them on this basis is to miss the point entirely. The point of Creation One is to engage our hearts with the most original truth of all - not, in fact, the origins of the universe and where we come from but, rather, where God is always coming from.
Photo: Greg Rakozy, Unsplash
1 Orthodoxy, Collected Works, Vol I, Ignatius Press, 1986, San Fran, p 252