Metanexus: Views 2002.01.04 2428 words"Technology may first be understood as 'imitating nature', doing things
which nature does as well. At some point, we move on to 'improving nature',
doing some things better than they would be without us," claims Dutch
theologian Willem Drees. He then adds, "'Better' is, of course, an
evaluation - and thus invites the question what the standard is by which
this is judged. In what sense is our wheat after millennia of human
selection 'better' than the natural varieties? Well, it is better for our
purposes - for producing bread, feeding the hungry. In some contexts we may
even consider ourselves to be correcting nature, doing things differently,
averting problematic consequences of nature."
But is this attempt at "correcting nature" a matter of wisdom or a matter of
hubris? Something to be avoided or something to be embraced? Or is there
perhaps a third option? Something more than being cautious stewards? Is
there a possibility of being co-creators with god? And, if this is a viable
possibility, then, as co-creators, is part of our role the taking of risks
in a way similar to god's own risk-taking activity vis-a-vis creation? Are
we engaged in a similar struggle of will versus indeterminacy?
These are truly the most metaphysical of questions, since they deal with
that moment in which the non-physical (thought, will, desire) impinges upon,
affects, and changes the physical (matter, material). And it is from within
this moment, this juncture, this nexus, that Willem Drees addresses the
issue of our human attempts at playing, imagining, and imitating god.
Willem B. Drees is professor of philosophy of religion and ethics at Leiden
University, the Netherlands. He has an advanced degree in theoretical
physics (Utrecht, 1977) and doctorates in theology (Groningen, 1989) and
philosophy (Amsterdam, 1994). And today's column is the fifth in a six part
series of excerpts from Drees' book Creation: From Nothing Until Now
(Paperback or Library Binding; ISBN: 0-4152-5653-4; Routledge; December
2001, 128pp.). Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 were posted to Metanexus:Views on
(2001.12.17), (2001.12.18), (2001.12.27), (2001.12.28), and (2002.01.03)
respectively.
--Stacey E. Ake
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Subject: Creation: From Nothing Until Now, Part 6
From: Willem B. Drees
Email: <wb@drees.nl>
FROM NOW ON: PLAYING AND IMAGINING GOD
We are creatures, produced by a long history 'from nothing until now', of
which we have barely begun to scratch the surface in the preceding pages.
However, we are not only products but also producers. We are creative
creatures; we are also looking forward, where to go 'from now on'. This
creativity has a material and an intellectual form: we modify our world and
ourselves, and we create our images, our understanding, both in the sciences
and in religious life. In both senses, we work with our historical heritage
but we are not restricted to it. We can 'play God', create new visions and
new realities.
Our calling to play god
We are not only thinking beings. We are also creative creatures, beings who
shape their environment. With modern technology, this has risen to
unprecedented heights. Benjamin Disraeli compared in 1844 various cities to
various human endeavors. Rome would represent conquest, the building of
empires. Jerusalem stands for faith; Athens invokes our intellectual
heritage. These are the traditional examples. However, he added to this
Major League of human cities Manchester.
He did not add Manchester for its soccer team. Athens and Manchester stand
for two different styles of human intellect, for two different styles of
life, for two different dimensions of science. Astronomy is a good example
of a particular kind of science, which would fit the Athenian archetype.
Observations, models and theories culminate together in an understanding of
many phenomena in the sky, and even in some understanding of the whole
observable universe. Science is the attempt to explain, to understand
reality as it is.
Manchester stands for another side of science, for the birth of chemistry
and the rise of technology. This city is an archetype of the Industrial
Revolution. This is science that not only seeks to understand nature, but
also to create things that had not been before - a science that is not
restricted to the natural but brings forth the artificial. In our days, this
active, creative side of science has become enormously significant. Think of
the creation of new materials with a wide variety of properties, the
creation of electronics that gave rise to information and communication
technologies, and of biotechnologies with major consequences for food
production and medicine. Science offers more than understanding; it provides
us with tools to change our world.
Technology may first be understood as 'imitating nature', doing things which
nature does as well. At some point, we move on to 'improving nature', doing
some things better than they would be without us. 'Better' is, of course, an
evaluation - and thus invites the question what the standard is by which
this is judged. In what sense is our wheat after millennia of human
selection 'better' than the natural varieties? Well, it is better for our
purposes - for producing bread, feeding the hungry. In some contexts we may
even consider ourselves to be correcting nature, doing things differently,
averting problematic consequences of nature.
Humans are concerned about the consequences of those technologies. For
physics, the archetype of responsibility has become the nuclear bomb.
Chemistry is associated with pollution. Every science seems to have its
particular experiences of sin, of causing problems that may be beyond its
powers to solve. It is, of course, questionable whether it is science itself
that is to blame, or whether one should rather blame our ways of living, our
political and economic decisions. But science is involved, and this has
consequences for the perception of science.
Could we and should we have done without this side of science,
restricting ourselves to the noble goal of understanding? I doubt it. The
active attitude is deeply rooted in human nature; we are as much homo faber
as homo sapiens, and we will need both our skills and our wisdom to survive
our powers, which too are in the combination of skill and intellect. Should
we wish we had done without this active side, without the inventions that
have changed our world? I doubt whether a moral person really can sustain
such a desire. There is, of course, the mythical image of paradise, of an
effortless pastoral life with fruit in abundance. But if one is more
realistic, we realize that we need our technology - and we need it also for
morally lofty purposes, to feed the hungry, to cloth the naked, to care for
those who are ill.
The lightning rod may serve as an example. In his book A History of the
Warfare of Science and Theology in Christendom of over a hundred years ago
(1897), Andrew White dwells extensively on the resistance of churchwardens
and ministers to setting up lightning rods - a resistance which not only was
stupid, but immoral as it led to an unnecessarily early death of many.
Frederick Ferre writes in a book titled Hellfire and Lightning Rods on the
experiences among Swedish immigrants in Minnesota in 1922. A preacher
condemned in his sermon the lightning rods, which sought to deflect the
wrath of God. A young, sensitive man wondered:
Could God's will truly be foiled by a steel rod and a grounding wire? Was it
really wrong to try to protect family and livestock from the storms that
swept in from the prairies with such seemingly undiscriminating force? Was
God really directing the thunderbolts? Should he believe that the God Jesus
called our 'Father in heaven' really would punish the farmers for taking
whatever meager technological precautions might be available?
The churches have accepted the lightning rod, perhaps a few odd corners
excepted. But objections to technology surface again and again, and with it
the warning that 'we should not play God' - not with medical technology, not
in biotechnology. The warning against 'playing God' often indicates
insecurity due to shifting boundaries between that which is given (and thus
would be God's domain) and that which is in our hands to play with. Aside of
the warning not 'to play God', there are also other religious images invoked
in discussions on the way we humans change our world. Some invoke the notion
of stewardship to express a limited, conserving range of acceptable human
action. Should we limit ourselves to the role of stewards, or rather reach
out as co-creators?
In the Christian tradition, the bible is the place to look. Let me therefore
offer a summary of the bible, in a single sentence. The bible begins on
high, with paradise, which is followed by a long journey through history,
with the expectation of final salvation. The combination of past and future
returns in the liturgy in the emphasis on memory and hope. The Sabbath
recalls the creation and the exodus and is a foretaste of fulfillment. This
overarching U-profile in the Christian tradition implies that images of the
good are there as images of the past (paradise) and as images of the future,
of a City of God, a new heaven and a new earth, the Kingdom to come. If
humans are considered stewards, one looks back in time, to a good situation
that has to be kept and preserved. But humans are also addressed as workers
who have their eyes on the Kingdom, on that which might come.
In relation to the use of human knowledge and power, some other stories may
be illuminating as well. In the synagogue Jesus meets someone with a
withered hand. Will he heal on the Sabbath? Then Jesus asks: 'Is it lawful
on the Sabbath to do good or to do harm, to save life or to kill?' The
priority is clear. In this story of healing, from Mark 3, as in many other
stories, a human is freed of the burdens of his past. A tax collector and a
prostitute are again on the way of life, the possessed relax and the deaf
hear. The social dimension that can also be found in the stories on the
prophets, is also found in the parables. Especially those who have been less
well off, get new chances; they are seen in a new light. Discipleship as
serving the poor and needy has often been forgotten in Christian history,
but it has resurfaced again and again. This resulted in particular in the
care for orphans, widows and people who were seriously ill.
One parable explicitly speaks of stewardship (Mathew 25: 14-30). A landlord
is to leave and entrusts his property to three servants. One received five
talents, one two and the third only one talent, 'to each according to his
ability'. The one with five talents made another five; the one with two
talents made two, but the one with only one talent buried it and returned it
to his master. In the end, the landlord commands to cast the worthless
servant into the outer darkness; there men will weep and gnash their teeth.
Of this brief tour of biblical texts and images I retain that in biblical
language the good is not only in the past but as well in the future, that
humans - even when considered as stewards - can be active and even ought to
be active although the initiative is with God, and that this activity is
normatively determined as care for the weak and needy. Humans may not be
co-creators in the sense in which God is a creator, but they are certainly
creative creatures, or created creators. We are beings who genuinely act in
creation, and thereby change the world and ourselves.
Stewardship has become prominent in reflection upon the ecological
damage that we have done. In that context, stewardship has the connotation
of nature conservation. It evokes reticence rather than the intention to
change nature. But human activity is not only a threat to Gods good
creation. Human culture, including human technology, may also be appreciated
as taking up the work God entrusted to us to work for the good. Human
creativity does not diminish God. To the contrary, the more someone develops
one's creativity, the more one surpasses current limitations, the more God
becomes God. We cannot shift the burden of responsibility to God; we are
responsible. Our task becomes to make God present in the world, or, as
Isabel Carter Heyward says it with a remarkable verb, our task might be 'to
god the world'. The issue is that the religious sensibility not only has to
do with the appreciation of beauty and goodness, but also reflects
engagement with justice, with love. Transformation is a central theological
theme.
Transformation as personal conversion or social change is an important
theme in many theologies, especially in evangelical and political
theologies. Natural theologies arising out of experiences with the natural
world mostly lack this; they tend to overemphasize the way things are as one
deserving wonder. However, a religiously adequate view should, in my
opinion, also attempt to disclose the possibilities for transformation of
the natural order. In the dialogue with the sciences, all aspects of
religious faith are involved - not merely creation, but also redemption, not
only 'what is' but also 'what should be'. Perhaps a complementary book to
From Nothing until Now should be From Now On.
Returning to the metaphors discussed, such as stewardship and
co-creator, I would stress that neither the past (images of paradise) nor
the future (a new heaven and a new earth) is acceptable as the sole point of
reference. It seems to me to be far more fruitful to listen to the parables
and pick up the sensibility that can be found there for those in need. The
question of creativity and responsibility is not whether one acts, whether
one gets involved, but how - and in what way, and thus who will benefit. In
that context it becomes important to be realistic about matters of power and
politics, of limited knowledge and unanticipated consequences, of
inequalities among humans and the even greater asymmetry between humans and
other living beings. We can serve God and our neighbor with all our heart,
with all our soul, with all our strength, and with all our mind - and hence
also with science and technology. But we may be reminded that this great
commandment is immediately followed (Luke 10) with the story of the Good
Samaritan - thus warning us against too limited a sense of who our neighbors
might be.
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