velvetpage: (earth harmless)
Or, How Roger Scruton has Missed The Boat in This Article

Everyone who engages in this type of debate sooner or later decides to argue why raising children in their own faith, or at least some faith, is preferable to the perceived alternative. Both Scruton and the person he was responding to, Danny Postel, have fallen victim to this, though Postel wonders if it's an ill-conceived notion.

The problem is that in rebutting Postel's article, Scruton has made the mistake of presuming science to be devoid of faith, and has therefore postulated that in order to be raised with faith, children must be raised with religion. Postel doesn't clearly articulate the point of view I suspect he was aiming for, so I will.

The first quote to cause me problems was this one: It seems to me that humanists should wake up to this point, and be careful when they seek to deprive their children of enchantment, or to replace their spontaneous fantasies with the cold hard facts of empirical science.

To be blunt, anyone who sees in science only cold hard facts lacks either imagination, the ability to synthesize, or the will to use one or the other. Faith is integral to science, but it's not faith in anything that could be called God. It's not even really faith in humans, except in the sense that we are the vehicle for its discoveries. It's faith in the natural universe as a knowable entity, as something we can (or will eventually be able to) wrap our brains around, understand, and ask more questions about. If the fundamental question of religion is "What is truth?" then the fundamental question of science is, "What happens if?"

In the scientific method, humans have developed a way to answer that question, test the answer for its validity, and from that answer develop new questions. It looks like cold hard facts to those who stop with the answers generated, but to someone with the desire to follow each train of thought further than it has been followed before, it requires immense creativity and faith. The scientist needs to believe first that there is an answer; second that he will recognize it when he sees it, and be able to comprehend it; third that the answer will lead to more questions; fourth that all the answers will either fit in with the paradigm we work with currently to understand natural laws, or alternatively lead to the development of an entirely new paradigm. (Imagine the excitement of the first person to realize that the atmosphere ends, that gravity holds it in place, and that beyond is not ether but vacuum. That person created a paradigm shift in science, made a discovery that changed everything we thought we knew about the sky.)

Scruton goes on to make the fundamental error of the non-scientifically-minded person: he states that because something is unknown, it is a void destined to remain unfilled, and furthermore that it needs to be filled with some form of certainty. The point he's missed is that a scientific worldview doesn't see a scary, formless void where faith should be; it sees unanswered questions, and it sees questions to ask and pursue. If nobody put us here for a specific purpose, that doesn't stop us from the self-actualization of creating our own, and where better to start than in knowing our universe? The existence of the void is its own purpose, and our job is to push our understanding out into it.

The video I posted this morning is a reworking of a variety of quotes, mostly by Carl Sagan. He was a scientist, but he was also an author and a creative force. He spent his life reaching his brain into the cosmos and into the human psyche, outward and inward. The tribute video is really an anthem to the faith of the scientist. (I would love to see an arrangement in SATB for a Unitarian choir.) It expresses his faith that there is a universe of elegant truths still awaiting discovery, and that we are poised to discover them.

I'm not sure if that kind of faith is at odds with traditional faith; I believe it's at odds with the more dogmatic aspects of religion but not necessarily with the faiths themselves. I do know that when scientifically-minded people give in to the notion that faith and science don't mix, they're ceding ground where they should hold it. Science does not eliminate faith; it directs it both outwards and inwards, into the facts beyond the facts we know, into possibilities and probabilities that will keep us interested and exploring for the duration of the human race.

Teaching a scientific worldview to children does not mean teaching them to doubt. It means teaching them to have faith in the ability of the human brain to make sense of its universe in all its beauty - however vast that might be. In this, Scruton was absolutely right: the doubting comes later, and is conquered eventually by the human will to search for truth. The scientist has this much in common with the Unitarian: the answer is to question.
velvetpage: (studious)
I was reading this post: http://ursulav.livejournal.com/517250.html and it struck a cord with me.

For the most part, I'm pretty even-tempered. I rarely descend into fits of, "Why does this always happen to me?" I rarely ascribe malice to people without strong evidence of same. I don't assume the world is out to get me, or that God has given me a trial to overcome, or that the world is a vale of tears. I just don't. Also, I'm quite willing, generally, to admit when things have gone well and count my blessings. My life isn't perfect, but it's pretty darn good, and it's made better by being friendly to people and assuming that they are doing their best, just like I am, most of the time.

Now, Ursula ascribes this attitude to her atheism. I can't do that, obviously, since I'm not an atheist. So what's the difference between my faith and that of the people who see God and the world as being out to get them?

It's possible to see Christianity as a profoundly negative thing. It's possible to see yourself as a sinful supplicant of a judging God, and you won't be considered to be unChristian for doing so - in fact, many congregations see that attitude as the core of the faith.

I don't. I never have. The reason is that it's not the end of the story. To me, the important part is that God thought humanity was worth saving. We're valuable to him, special, worthy of a sacrifice so huge I can barely comprehend it. Why would a god who was willing to make such a sacrifice be out to get me?

The other side to the equation is my view of humanity, which almost exactly matches Ursula's. Most people are muddling along as best they can. If they do things that hurt me, it's probably by accident or because they are trying to protect themselves and I somehow got in the way of that. I can forgive that, because it's not about me. It's about them. So long as everyone is doing their best with occasional slip-ups, I can forgive the slip-ups. My life is not improved by assuming that random people are cackling evilly at the misfortune they've heaped on me by, for example, rushing to get into the check-out line two steps ahead of me. They're just trying to get home before their teenager trashes the house, or some such.

So, my even-temperedness has two sources: 1) God is good and loves me, and 2) everyone else is just trying to get by as best they can.

May 2020

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