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Summary:
We live in a universe with a very long history, a vast cosmos where things are being worked out over unimaginably long ages. Stars and galaxies have formed, and elements come forth from great stellar cauldrons. The necessary elements are present, the environment is fit for life, and slowly life forms have populated the earth. Are the creative forces purposeful, and in fact divine?
Owen Gingerich believes in a universe of intention and purpose. We can at least conjecture that we are part of that purpose and have just enough freedom that conscience and responsibility may be part of the mix. They may even be the reason that pain and suffering are present in the world. The universe might actually be comprehensible.
Taking Johannes Kepler as his guide, Gingerich argues that an individual can be both a creative scientist and a believer in divine design--that indeed the very motivation for scientific research can derive from a desire to trace God's handiwork. The scientist with theistic metaphysics will approach laboratory problems much the same as does his atheistic colleague across the hall. Both are likely to view the astonishing adaptations in nature with a sense of surprise, wonder, and mystery.
In God's Universe Gingerich carves out "a theistic space" from which it is possible to contemplate a universe where God plays an interactive role, unnoticed yet not excluded by science.
(20070501)
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Average Customer Rating:
Just because how something works is explainable doesn't make it natural.
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The author believes in "a universe created with intention and purpose by a loving God." Gingerich posits that "...the estimated number of stars in all the galaxies in the universe vastly exceeds the number of grains of sand on all the beaches of the world.." Consequently, "given the wealth of possibilities, countless habitable environments must be scattered throughout these starry realms." We are probably not alone, thus, and just because life as we know it isn't likely elsewhere in our solar system, doesn't mean there's no God. Yes, scientists can explain how some living being was able to crawl out of the sea, and even from whence it came, how it adapts, etc., but WHY IS ANY OF THIS EVEN POSSIBLE? That's the point of this short book (really a collection of several lectures made into essays). "What passes for truth in science is a comprehensive pattern of interconnected answers to questions posed to nature---explanations of how things work (efficient causes), though not necessarily why they work (final causes)." Just because how something works is explainable doesn't make it natural. Besides, if it was so natural, why hasn't it occurred anywhere else in out solar system? Couldn't there be room for both a God and a natural explanation, in other words? Can't they be at least semi-complementary? That's Dr. Gingerich's view and if you are interested to know more have a look at this book (though I'd suggest you borrow it from your library since it can be read in 3 hours---the 160 pages are small and the print is huge). Cheers
A sensitive and thoughtful probing of the anthropic principle
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Owen Gingerich, astronomer, historian of science, and Christian whose roots are anabaptist, has written a brief and thoughtful book (originally the Belden Noble lectures) that explores several issues: the possibility of a designed universe, the anthropic principle, the relationship between scientific, metaphysical, and theological propositions, and questions that intrigue but appear to be unanswerable ("why is the universe comprehensible?"). Throughout, Gingerich's claims are really more suggestions and hypotheses than nailed-down conclusions, and this is loyal to his conviction that metaphysical claims are of a different caliber than scientific ones.
Gingerich opens his discussion by reflecting on what he calls the "Copernican Principle" (one, he acknowledges, that would've horrified the man after whom it's named): the standard scientific assumption that there's nothing special about either humans or earth. The principle is so commonly accepted because of the assumption that it has scientific leverage. But Gingerich wonders if it fits facts on the ground such as the neural makeup of humans or the cosmological finessing that make the universe receptive to life. Ginergich's main discussion of the anthropic principle is mid-book, pp. 48-59.
He explores the relation of natural law to the possibility of design (although he's no Intelligent Design-er, he does think that the evidence suggests some kind of design), and in a striking simile suggests that the universe is perhaps like a Lego set: there's no predetermining overarching blueprint, but the interlocking parts are designed. So design is open-ended.
Finally, he suggests that scientific naturalism is a necessary method in the sciences, and that metaphysical and theological beliefs need to be kept separate if good science is to be done. He also criticizes--quite rightly, in my estimation--people like Dawkins who, while claiming to be doing science, actually drag in metaphysical claims when they deny the existence of God (of course the same criticism applies to ID advocates). But Gingerich is persuaded that reality allows for "multiple layers of explanation" (p. 72) because it's what Nancy Cartwright so tellingly calls a "dappled universe," and that there's no good reason for an overall privileging of one layer over another.
A fine little book. Four and a half stars. Highly recommended.
God's Universe
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presents a deeply considered theistic understanding of physical reality which effectively challenges materialistic assumptions. Lends perspective to anyone who is searching for a philosophically rational understanding of existence.
A good introduction for those with limited reading time
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Owen Gingerich's brief but provoking book provides a perspective of cosmology from an astronomer, science historian and amateur theologian. The fact that Gingerich draws from his Mennonite heritage should come as no surprise, as Mennonites have a tradition of careful thought about the revealed Word, and the relationship of science and theology. What may be surprising to some is that Gingerich does not conform to the expectation that he would adopt a more literalist approach in his theology. In his view, God operates more by intention than by intervention. In Gingerich's view, the Genesis account of the earth bringing forth every living creature after his kind does not preclude common descent with modification or the possibility of macroevolution. Gingerich finds support for his view from the fact that a single mutational aberration in his Amish ancestry is the cause of occasional six-fingered dwarfism. He wonders whether beneficial mutations can be inspired, prodded on by contingent causes at the physical level, although he acknowledges that science can never confirm or deny that question.
Gingerich argues that our epistemology is not always based on proof, but more often on persuasion, both in science and in theology. And that persuasion results from the coherence and consistency of the evidence, `a comprehensive pattern of interconnected answers to questions posed to nature'. Historically, Copernicus found that more phenomena could be more easily explained by postulating a heliocentric solar system. For example, assuming the visible planets are spaced at increasing distances from the sun explains their periodicity much better than the epicycles within epicycles of the Ptolemic system. In theology, Gingerich sees a consistency and coherence that leads one to explain more things more easily through belief than through non-belief, such as the apparent purpose and design in nature.
The place of science as a tool for explanation is a recurring theme. Gingerich refers to Polkinghorne's question of "Why is the water in the teakettle boiling?" to point out that answers can be given at different levels, the level of the efficient cause (heat raises the temperature to accelerate the motion of molecules - the `how'), and the level of the final, purposive cause (because we want some tea - the `why'). Science is restricted to the explaining the efficient cause.
Interestingly, as one of the world's foremost authorities on Copernicus, Gingerich looks at both sides of what has been called the `principle of mediocrity'; that man, in the cosmological viewpoint, has been relegated from the center of the universe to a fringe outpost of a backwater galaxy. Certainly from a physical perspective this is true, even to the point of accepting the distinct possibility of sentient, self-reflective life on other planets. But the many conditions that defy the luck of the draw for our existence, such as the `missing mass five element', suggest that humans have a central place in God's plan.
Instances of the extraordinary physical and chemical conditions that combine to create an environment where life can adapt and thrive are described as being comparable to a giant and very complex Lego set supplied without a blueprint. The set of little interlocking parts express themselves according to what Gingerich refers to as `preferred pathways' that lead inevitably to self-reflective human beings. This is an explanation at the level of efficient cause. At the final cause level lays the explanation that God created the conditions that inevitably create man in God's image.
Gingerich takes Intelligent Design enthusiasts to task for forwarding their position as an alternative to evolution instead of offering answers at the level of final cause. ID enthusiasts live in an intellectual straitjacket that limits the alternative mechanisms they can supply to help us understand in a coherent way why, for example, the DNA in yeast is so closely related to the DNA in human chromosomes. Gingerich underscores that he believes strongly in `lower-case' intelligent design, but distances himself from a movement that he sees as purely political and emotional.
The universe, he points out, is God's project, `perhaps created with just enough freedom that conscience and responsibility are part of the mix'. Although he does not unpack this thought to the extent one would wish, the book reflects the setting of a series of sequential lectures. He frequently returns to the theme of the purpose and meaning of reality, and in the final chapter humbly acknowledges that due to the limitations of science and our own human constraints, there are many questions that have no answers and require a step of reasoned faith. With this approach, a theistic scientist takes the same approach to doing science as the atheistic scientist. For both, they may react to their discoveries with awe and wonder, but for the theistic scientist, the truth arises from an unimaginably powerful creative act. `God's universe is a universe where God can play an interactive role unnoticed by science, but not excluded by science.'
Unquestionably this is one of the more thoughtful and thought-provoking books of this genre.
Reconciling Science with Theology
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This famous astronomer opines in this compact work what reconciliation he finds between his science and his theology. He concludes that God is behind the universe in some capacity, likely in beginning the Big Bang and keeping its sensitive balance of explosion/implosion in harmony.
He also concludes however that evolution has something to do with this created universe, and he does not clearly delineate between micro and macro evolution enough for this reviewer. Certainly most of us theists will concur on microevolution, but we find no evidence of macroevolution. He sees science as primarily being one of finding efficient causes, not final causes. This would severely separate him from the likes of Dawkins et al on that side of the discussion. Especially liked the analogy to useful mutation as tuning an MG sportscar with a rifle as fifty paces. Suggest it would be more like "out of rifle range."
His theology which he admits is amateurish, is shaky. Alluding to Genesis' statement about humans being created in God's image, he wants to describe this as "creativity, conscience, consciousness." This makes no sense in the fall, since after that point God describes His work as "recreation," or spiritual birth. Thus, this points rather decisively in direction of original image as right relationship with God spiritually, which of course is the very attribute which God distinguishes Himself as.
Further, certainty with which he speaks at points of absolute knowledge of half-life of elements strikes most of us as a circular reasoning trail, since how can one be sure of billion year life, given our rather recent historical trail deposit?
He does conclude with limitations set on science to probe ultimately and decisively upon origin questions.
Interesting read, but rather unconvincing. Also suggested you check out Angus Menuge, "Reading God's World: Scientific Vocation."