SCIENCE AND FAITH

CHAPTER I

THE OUTSTANDING CONTROVERSY

I

IT is widely recognised at the present day that the

modern spirit of scientific inquiry has in the main exerted a wholesome influence upon Theology, clearing it of much encumbrance of doubtful doctrine, freeing it from slavery to the literal accuracy of historical records, and reducing the region of the miraculous or the incredible, with which it used to be almost conterminous, to a comparatively small area.

This influence is likely to continue as true science advances, but it by no means follows that the nature of the benefit will always be that of a clearing and unloading process. There must come a time when such a process has gone far enough, and when some positive contribution may be expected. Whether such a time has now arrived or not is clearly open to question, but I think it will be admitted that orthodox science at present, though it shows some sign of abstaining from virulent criticism of religious creeds, is still a long way from contributing in any degree to their support; nor are its followers ready to admit that they have as yet gone too far, if even far enough, in the negative direction. No doubt both sides would

allow that the highest Science and the truest Theology must ultimately be mutually consistent, and harmonious; but they are far from presenting that appearance at present. The term "Theology," as ordinarily used, necessarily signifies nothing ultimate or divine; it signifies only the present state of human knowledge on theological subjects. And similarly the term "Science," if correspondingly employed, represents no fetish to be worshipped blindly as absolute truth, but merely the present state of human knowledge on subjects within its grasp, together with the practical consequences deducible from such knowledge in the opinion of the average scientific man: it usually connotes what may be called orthodox science, -the orthodox science of the present day, as set forth by its professed exponents, and as indicated by the general atmosphere or setting in which figures in every branch of knowledge are now regarded by cultivated men.

It may be objected that there is no definite body of doctrine which can be classed as orthodox science; and it is true that there is no formulated creed; but I suggest that there is more nearly an orthodox science than there is an orthodox theology. Professors of theology differ among themselves in a rather conspicuous manner; and even in that branch of it with which alone most Englishmen are familiar, viz. Christian Theology, there are differences of opinion on apparently important issues, as is evidenced by the existence of Sects, ranging from Unitarians on the one side, to Greek and Roman Catholics on the other.

In science, sectarianism is less marked, controversies rage chiefly round matters of detail, and on all important issues its professors are agreed. This general consensus of opinion on the part of experts, a general consensus which the public are willing enough to acquiesce in, and adopt as far as they can understand it, is what I mean by the term "science as now understood," or, for brevity, "modern science."

Similarly, by "religious doctrine" we shall mean the general consensus of theologians so far as they are in agreement, especially perhaps the general consensus of Christian theologians; ignoring as far as possible the presumably minor points on which they differ, and eliminating everything manifestly below the moral level of dogma generally acceptable at the present day.

Now it must, I think, be admitted that the modern scientific atmosphere, in spite of much that is wholesome and nutritious, exercises a sort of blighting influence upon religious ardour. At any rate the great saints or seers have as a rule not been eminent for their acquaintance with exact scientific knowledge, but on the contrary, have felt a distrust and a dislike of that uncompromising quest for cold hard truth in which the leaders of science are engaged; while on the other hand, the leaders of science have shown an aloofness from, if not a hostility towards, the theoretical aspects of religion. In fact, it may be held that the general drift or atmosphere of modern science is adverse to the highest religious emotion, because unconvinced of the reality of many of the occurrences

upon which such an exalted state of feeling must be based, if it is to be anything more than a wave of transient enthusiasm.

Nevertheless, we must admit that among men of science, there must be many now living, who accept fully the facts and implications of science, who accept also the creeds of the Church, and who do not keep the two sets of ideas in watertight compartments of their minds, but do distinctly perceive a reconciling and fusing element.

If we proceed to ask what is this reconciling element, we find that it is neither science nor theology, but that it is either philosophy or poetry. By aid of philosophy, or by aid of poetry, a great deal can be accomplished. Mind and matter may be then no longer two, but one; this material universe may then become the living garment of God; gross matter may be regarded as a mere appearance, a mode of apprehending an idealistic cosmic reality, in which we really live and move and have our being; the whole of existence can become infused and suffused with immanent Deity.

No reconciliation would then be necessary between the spiritual and the material, between the laws of Nature and the will of God, because the two would be but aspects of one all-comprehensive pantheistic entity.

All this may possibly be in some sort true, but it is not science as now understood. It is no more science than are the creeds of the Churches. It is a guess, an intuition, an inspiration perhaps, but it is not