Tuesday's postcard, and a visit with a most remarkable priest
February 7, 2023
Rural electrification on Washington highway 23, between Lamont and Ewan.
Given my upbringing as the son of a devout Catholic who was also a science teacher, I’ve given a lot of thought to what often seems like a pitched and irreconcilable battle between faith and science. I understand it. Which is not to say I like it. I don’t.
The first atheist I remember hearing about was Madelyn Murray O’Hair—the founder of the American Atheists organization—who regularly brought lawsuits challenging government support for religious activities and discrimination against atheists. She was very blunt, described religion as “a crutch” and “irrational reliance on superstitions and supernatural nonsense.” I despised her.
Then slowly, but surely, I started privately rooting for her.
She was obnoxious, for sure, but she was right. The state shouldn’t be involved in religion. I saw no reason why atheists shouldn’t be entitled to the same rights and protections that people of faith enjoy. Even though I wasn’t an atheist, I came to understand why atheists often have a chip on their shoulders. I get it. When the brilliant theoretical physicist and devout (and unabashed) atheist Lawrence Krauss came to Spokane in 2016, to a packed house at The Fox, I was there and I brought my then 17 year-old son, Devin, with me. I went not because Krauss pushes back, often sarcastically, against creationists. I went because he’s a brilliant communicator when it comes to science and philosophy. Devin and I had been reading Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything—itself a model of explanatory prose on scientific advances—and Krauss’s work and writings were a logical extension.
I enjoy lectures and debates over science. I just don’t have much interest in debates between scientists and creationists. The arguments are familiar and, to my ear and experience, they’re not all that illuminating or entertaining. I would explain why, but I’m sure you have other things to do this morning.
In researching the Geology of Us piece that—god-willing—will run this coming Sunday in this space, I discovered a short (under 16 minutes) but remarkable 2014 TED Talk. It was delivered by a Jesuit, the Rev. George V. Coyne, entitled We are all made of star dust. In addition to being a priest (he was ordained in 1965) Rev. Coyne was an astrophysicist and the longtime director of the Vatican’s Observatory, which includes a large, U.S.-based telescope. Among other things, Father Coyne is credited with helping to persuade Pope John Paul II to issue the Catholic church’s belated apology to Galileo. He passed away three years ago, at the age of 87.
After listening to his We are all made of star dust talk, I lamented I’d not heard of him before he passed. His honesty and manner was such that if I had to make conversation with anyone on a five-hour flight at the end of a long day, it’d be a privilege to sit next to him.
“The sun is a third generation star,” he says. “And if it were not, you and I would not be here. We are born of stardust. That’s a scientific fact.”
He talks about his faith with humility. He spends most of his energy and time defending science and bluntly explaining why religion has no place in science.
After expounding on the breadth of the universe and the complexity of humans, he asked: “Did God do it?” His answer: “I don’t know!”
Hearing a rise of applause from the audience he said “thank you” and drew laughter when he added, “it is a long way from Rome and the Vatican.”
As a matter of faith, Rev. Coyne said he believed God created the universe, but not in the meticulous, direct sense to which most people of faith subscribe. From here, I’ll let him speak for himself by linking to the 2014 TED Talk, which ends with his lament about the conflict between religious belief and science.
—tjc