How should Christians, or religious people more generally, think about and relate to philosophy? Is it OK to do philosophy or even use philosophy in relationship to the things we believe about God? For example, if philosophy or science provides a new discovery or insight that has bearing on an item of faith, can the believer make use of that information and incorporate it into the fabric of a rationale for God? Or is this the kind of thing that should be avoided at all costs because philosophy and science are “of the world” and bring with them the possibility of polluting the way we think about God?
Questions like these have been around since the beginning of the Christian era, and Christians have taken a wide variety of views. In the early church, believers like Tertullian (AD 160–220) famously quipped, “What indeed has Athens to do with Jerusalem?”1 In Tertullian’s mind, philosophy, associated with the Greeks and the city of Athens, was concerned with very different things than was Christian theology and, even worse, was utterly pagan. As such, he felt that the use of philosophy by Christians in the defense and formulation of Christian doctrine was problematic.2 Origen (AD 184–253), a younger contemporary of Tertullian, took a much different approach, making significant use of Plato’s philosophy to account for the doctrines of anthropology, Christology, and some aspects of his doctrine of God. We will say more on this history in a moment. For now, Tertullian and Origen demonstrate the history of the debate.
In this chapter we address the relationship of faith and reason and a related question about the relationship of theology and modern science. We start by setting out just what we mean by the terms “faith” and “reason,” then end with a quick survey of various models for understanding these relationships.
The Nature of Faith, Reason, and Science
Before we begin our survey of the different approaches to the relationship between faith and reason, we need to first set out what we understand by each of the terms involved in the discussion. And we must also say something about where these debates arise. The conversation about this relationship comes up in two areas: (1) the relationship between theology and philosophy and (2) the relationship between theology and science. What we will see below is that, throughout history, there have been numerous models for thinking about the relationship of theology to both philosophy and science. As such, the question about the relationship between “faith and reason” is general enough to include faith’s relationship to both philosophy and science. But before we get to those models, we first consider the terminology involved.
So what exactly is this thing called “faith”? The term gets used in a variety of ways and needs some clarification before we begin exploring its relationship to reason. In popular usage, faith might refer to any number of things. For instance, faith is sometimes spoken of as a sort of optimism or positive thinking. A person may face a difficult circumstance and think of faith as a way forward, hoping for the best and wishing to avoid the worst. This is not the kind of thing we are speaking of in this chapter as we think about faith. A second popular way of thinking about faith must also be noted and rejected. In modern Western culture, faith is also thought of metaphorically as a blind leap one makes in affirming an idea in the absence of supporting data or facts. In this case, a person may hold to a religious or nonreligious idea that they hope to be true but that faces serious intellectual problems. Once again, this is not what we are talking about when we speak of faith in this chapter. We are not denying that the term “faith” is sometimes thought of in these ways; rather, we are simply suggesting that neither of these conceptions capture what needs to be in view as we think of the relationship of faith and reason. In fact, it should be recognized here that the “blind leap” construal of faith (1) does not do justice to the way Christians throughout history have understood faith and (2) immediately prejudices the case against a relationship between faith and reason. If faith just is a blind leap, then we should want nothing to do with the actual facts of the matter. But this is decidedly not the way Christians have thought about faith, so we can and should set this construal aside.
With these clarifications out of the way, we now consider the ways the term “faith” is employed in our current discussion. Interestingly, the term “faith” has had, and continues to have, a double meaning within Christian thought. It can be used as both a noun and as a verb, and both have importance for the way we think about the relationship of faith and reason. Consider faith as a noun. As a noun, the term “faith” simply refers to what it is that a person believes, or to a set of beliefs that are held by a particular group. When a person asks what your faith says about a particular topic, they are asking what your belief system says about an issue.
Faith can also be understood somewhat differently when we think of it as a verb. In this case, faith is a sort of act we perform. In particular, it is an act of ventured trusting in someone or something in response to information that may be given. This seems to be what is involved when the Bible calls us to have faith in God and Jesus Christ. In Romans 1:17, for example, the Bible says, “The just shall live by faith” (NKJV). When the Bible speaks this way, it is making clear that our salvation comes to us via our trust response to the person Jesus Christ. As with what we saw above when we considered faith as a noun, there is likewise nothing in the verbal concept of faith that should prejudice us one way or the other for the relationship of faith and reason. The Bible also sometimes uses the word “believe” to convey this idea. In Acts 16:31, for instance, Paul tells the Philippian jailor to “believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved” (NKJV). In these cases, and many others like them, faith is an act of ventured trust. Persons who have faith are those who have placed their faith in Christ to save them from sin. Or in other aspects of Christian life, they may be placing their faith in Christ for provision or guidance in some particular situation. Thus faith should be thought of as a kind of trust act of the person who has it.
But what about the terms “reason” and “science”? Defining “reason” is a bit more difficult, since it is something that takes place with so many disciplines. As a tentative starting point for the discussion, we might just think of reason as a cognitive activity that involves comparing, analyzing, and investigating data to formulate judgments regarding beliefs or theories. And as just indicated, reason is employed in a host of disciplines like philosophy, science, history, mathematics, theology, psychology, and any number of other intellectual fields. In each field we use reason to compare one idea with another, analyze the coherence of that idea, and test whether that idea holds up against the data we receive from the empirical sciences. By using reason we can think critically, analyze data, consider probabilities, or provide appropriate evidence in favor of a view. What we mean by “science,” however, is much more straightforward and simple to grasp. By “science” we are simply referring to the exploration and explanation of the physical world typically found in the disciplines of physics, chemistry, biology, geology, and the like.
It is important to note that there is nothing in the concepts considered so far that should prejudice us one way or the other regarding the relationship of faith and reason, or faith and science. There may be important discoveries in either discipline that cause problems or give favor for these relationships, but those should be thought of as separate matters. For now, we simply want to notice that there is no prima facie conceptual reason to say that faith is incompatible with science or philosophy. With that in mind, we now consider the most prominent views throughout history.
Models for the Relationship of Faith and Reason
Throughout history, philosophers, theologians, and scientists have thought about the relationship between faith and reason in different ways. We will not list all of these approaches but will offer a quick overview of the most common perspectives that have been put forward. We have already mentioned some of the preliminary debates between Tertullian and Origen in the early centuries of Christian theological development. This debate sets the stage for what would become an ongoing debate in Western history. We begin with the medieval thinkers.
Faith Seeking Understanding
One major view is commonly associated with Anselm of Canterbury (1033–1109). In his Proslogion, Anselm sets forth his famous argument for God’s existence, what we now call the ontological argument. The details of that argument are not what we will focus on here. Rather, we will instead focus on the way he understood faith and reason. Because this is the work in which he sets forth the ontological argument, most readers who are new to Anselm expect him to begin by establishing some universally agreed-on premises and then move on to show that God must exist. But this is actually not the way Anselm proceeds at all. Instead, he starts with the belief in God and simply tries to show how this belief makes sense. He prays, “I do not try, Lord, to attain Your lofty heights, because my understanding is in no way equal to it. But I do desire to understand Your truth a little, that truth that my heart believes and loves. For I do not seek to understand so that I may believe; but I believe so that I may understand. For I believe this also, that unless I believe, I shall not understand.”3
In other words, Anselm is decidedly not starting on neutral ground as he considers God’s existence. Instead, he starts by admitting that he must begin with God’s existence if he is going to be able to understand God. But this does not mean that he was opposed to using reason. Rather, in this approach, he starts with faith and then seeks to better understand that faith by way of rational reflection. What is interesting about the Proslogion is that the entire work is actually written as a prayer to God, where Anselm repeatedly asks God for help to better understand who God is and what God is like. In that posture of prayerful dependence on God, Anselm then uses reason to understand what he already believes and to love what he finds to be true of God. This approach recognizes two important things about understanding God. First, sin, pride, and finitude can limit us in such a way that God must help us to see clearly. Second, it holds reason in high regard as a God-given faculty that guides us in truth. But reason by itself cannot bring us to a proper view of God. Anselm says that the awareness of God in us is “so effaced and worn away by vice, so darkened by the smoke of sin, that it cannot do what it was made to do unless [God] renew it.”4 Hence the relationship of faith and reason in this tradition is one of faith seeking understanding, where disciplines like philosophy and science are valuable resources deriving from our faith.
Anselm is not the only one to think about the relationship of faith and reason in this way. In fact, Anselm understood himself to be operating in the same tradition started by Augustine of Hippo (354–430), who in a sermon on John’s Gospel exhorts, “Believe that thou mayest understand.”5 Likewise, Boethius (477–524) is another example of someone in the medieval tradition who approached faith and reason in this way. In The Consolation of Philosophy, he personifies the subject as “Lady Philosophy,” who, by reminding him who God is, brings comfort to Boethius as he awaits his martyrdom. In this work, Boethius establishes and defends what we could call classical theism by using reason alone.6 The same could be said for Thomas Aquinas (1224–74), who came after Anselm. He says that theology “can in a sense depend upon the philosophical sciences, not as though it stood in need of them, but only in order to make its teaching clearer. . . . Therefore it does not depend upon other sciences as upon the higher, but makes use of them as of the lesser, and as handmaidens. . . . That it thus uses them is not due to its own defect or insufficiency, but to the defect of our intelligence, which is more easily led by what is known through natural reason.”7
Here Aquinas is clear that the doctrines of the church do not depend on reason as a foundation but that the church nevertheless is served well by philosophy since its teachings can be demonstrated by reason. Because of this, philosophy is a helpful handmaiden to theology. All of these thinkers approach the relationship between faith and reason as one of faith seeking understanding, where reason serves faith.
Critics of this view have come from inside and outside the faith. Some within the faith have shared the same kinds of concerns that Tertullian once had in the patristic era, being greatly anxious that using philosophy for theological purposes could only corrupt doctrine. Critics from the outside have considered this approach to be guilty of question begging. Nevertheless, the view still enjoys considerable support by Christian apologists and philosophers.
Reason as Magistrate
Enlightenment philosophers took a much different view on the matter. They saw the Enlightenment as stripping away all the myths, biases, spiritual prejudices, and folk beliefs of the past and letting reason and science guide the way into truth. As has been well noted, the Enlightenment world rejected the Judeo-Christian metanarrative that offered God as an explanation of all things and replaced God with modern philosophy and modern science. Where religion once explained things, science and philosophy were now preferred. In this new age, reason ruled over all matters of thinking. This did not necessarily mean the end of religious thinking or believing. Rather, it simply meant that religious beliefs were held to be epistemically inferior to the natural sciences. And as such, religious belief was judged by philosophy and science. One was still free to believe in God and exercise faith, but only insofar as such belief was not at odds with rational argument. Put another way, unless a religious idea could be established by way of rational argument, then such beliefs were deemed to be problematic.
One example of this way of thinking was Immanuel Kant (1724–1804). This is seen in the way Kant sought a completely objective basis for knowledge. He thought we could identify universal methods of thinking that could be applied to all people in all places. As Alister McGrath explains, “Kant had argued, in what now seems a somewhat optimistic manner, for a transcendental criteria of judgment, valid for all minds and across all cultures and traditions at all time[s].”8 The Enlightenment took “the view that human reason elevated the intelligent and the enlightened individual above the shadows and clouds of tradition, and allowed the ‘big picture’ to be seen with unprecedented clarity. In the light of this comprehensive overview of the totality of things, reliable judgments could be made concerning religions, traditions and other such outmoded ways of thinking and behaving.”9 Indeed, in his What Is Enlightenment? Kant argues that the scholar is finally able, and even obligated, to strip away the biases of religion and superstition. “Likewise the clergyman is obliged to teach his pupils and his congregation according to the creed of the church which he serves, for he has been accepted on that condition. But as a scholar, he has full freedom, in fact even the obligation, to communicate to the public all his diligently examined and well-intentioned thoughts concerning erroneous points in that doctrine and concerning proposals regarding the better institution of religious and ecclesiastical matters.”10
As popular as this view was during the Enlightenment, and even with some today, it is not without its problems. To begin with, the kind of objectivity Kant seeks is not so easy to attain. Human beings are situated within contexts that shape the way we look at the world and think about important issues. Therefore, a universal rationality has not been found. Furthermore, the Enlightenment thinkers’ opinions about the “biases” and “religious ideas” have turned out to be just that: opinions. While the Enlightenment popularized the idea that religious ideas are based on mere hopes, opinions, and speculations, it turns out that many of the central ideas that support Christian thought are far more resilient than depicted by these thinkers. As the past hundred years of science and philosophy have shown, Christian thought enjoys a significant amount of support from these disciplines.
Warfare Thesis
Another dominant view throughout the past few hundred years has been called the warfare thesis, which sees the relationship between faith and reason as being hostile and unfriendly. According to advocates of this view, religion and science (and even religion and philosophy) are natural enemies to each other. In his essay titled “The Conflict of Science and Religion,” Colin Russell notes the tendency to think this way: “The history of science has often been regarded as a series of conflicts between science and religion (usually Christianity), of which the cases of Galileo Galilei (1564–1642) and Charles Darwin (1809–82) are merely the most celebrated examples.”11 Russell reports, “Such a view of the relations between science and religion has been variously described as a ‘conflict thesis,’ a ‘military metaphor,’ or simply a ‘warfare model.’”12
One example of this view is Andrew Dickson White in his famous book titled A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology. In his introduction, he is careful to state that he believes the conflict is not between science and religion but between science and dogmatic theology that is based on biblical texts and ancient modes of thinking. He says, “In all modern history, interference with science in the supposed interest of religion, no matter how conscientious such interference may have been, has resulted in the direst evils both to religion and to science.”13 Thus, for White, the relationship between science and theology is one of conflict and harm.
It seems, however, that maintaining such a thesis is difficult. First, the relationship between the two disciplines is actually far more complex than this view suggests.14 Second, this view is a rather recent phenomenon, popularized by those with clear ideological agendas.15 Perhaps the greatest reason for rejecting the conflict thesis, however, is that there is sufficient evidence to suggest that religion has played an important role in the development of modern science.16
Fideism
The word “fideism” comes from the Latin word fides, which means “faith.” In this approach, one does not base belief in God on rational argument or scientific evidence. Rather, one simply has faith, and this is what is pleasing to God. As Chad Meister puts it, “Using reason to demonstrate or evaluate religions or religious beliefs is always inappropriate [for the fideist]. Faith is not the kind of thing which needs rational justification, fideists maintain, and attempting to prove one’s religious faith may even be an indication of a lack of faith.”17
One clear example of this approach to the relationship between faith and reason is the nineteenth-century Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard (1813–55). In Kierkegaard’s mind, the quest for objectivity associated with Kant and Georg Hegel is a form of intellectual idolatry, an attempt to have the kind of perspective that only God can have. To seek such objectivity, therefore, is an attempt to be like God. In particular, Kierkegaard thought that such an approach stripped religious ideas and questions of all their existential concerns and treated the question of God’s existence as a matter of mere intellectual wonder, like what we find in mathematics. God, for Kierkegaard, is not the kind of subject matter that can be thought of this way. Rather, to think of God requires doing so with emotion, passion, and most important, the will.
Kierkegaard was deeply skeptical of those who seek to establish faith by way of reason and historical support for biblical claims. In his mind, such an approach sterilizes faith and as a result kills it. He says: “Thus everything is assumed to be in order with regard to the Holy Scriptures—what then? Has the person who did not believe come a single step closer to faith? No, not a single step. Faith does not result from straightforward scholarly deliberation, nor does it come directly; on the contrary, in this objectivity one loses that infinite, personal, impassioned interestedness, which is the condition of faith.”18 He also asserts, “In order, however, to avoid confusion, it should immediately be borne in mind that the issue is not . . . about the indifferent individual’s systematic eagerness to arrange the truths of Christianity in paragraphs but rather about the concern of the infinitely interested individual with regard to his own relation to such a doctrine.”19 Ed Miller explains that for Kierkegaard “Truth, at least the kind that ought to concern us most, is not a matter of objectivity but subjectivity. This truth cannot be grasped through philosophical, scientific, or historical methods, but only when through the passion of infinite concern the existing individual abandons himself to the Teacher in a ‘leap of faith.’”20 Meister seems to agree, adding that “for Kierkegaard, true religion is not cold and calculating, regurgitating the right answers to logical, formulaic issues in systematic, impersonal fashion. Rather, it is passionate and obsessive, more akin to an intimate relationship between two lovers.”21 The person of faith, therefore, is not one who is concerned with reason. In this view, faith is what pleases God.
Fideists offer a helpful reminder that considerations about God cannot, or at least should not, be passionless or indifferent. But it should be noted that having an interest in God does not require us to jettison reason, science, or historical considerations the way fideism suggests we must. Why not instead think that the two can go hand in hand? Furthermore, there is also legitimate concern that the fideist’s approach to reason and evidence leads to relativism and absurdity. If one is to just believe and ignore reason, science, and history, then wouldn’t just about any religious idea be acceptable? If the Christian is to operate this way, then couldn’t a person of any other faith? In the end, this approach leaves us with no way to adjudicate between mutually exclusive belief systems.
Evidentialism
In chapter 3 we explored the debate between internalism and externalism. Evidentialism, a very popular view in recent philosophical history regarding the relationship of faith and reason, is an example of an internalist approach to justification. Evidentialism was deeply influenced by the Enlightenment demands for rationality and intellectual support for belief. W. K. Clifford (1845–79) is often associated with this perspective. He famously said, “It is wrong always, everywhere, and for anyone, to believe anything upon insufficient evidence.”22 In other words, epistemologically speaking, Clifford felt that it was deeply problematic, to the point of becoming a moral issue, for a person to hold beliefs without rational or evidential support. He adds, “If a man, holding a belief which he was taught in childhood or persuaded of afterwards, keeps down and pushes away any doubts which could arise about it in his mind, purposely avoids the reading of books and the company of men that call in question or discuss it, and regards as impious those questions which cannot easily be asked without disturbing it—the life of that man is one long sin against mankind.”23
In some ways, this view is similar to the “Reason as Magistrate” view mentioned above in that it requires our beliefs to have rational support. But interestingly, Christians have been willing to accept and work within this perspective. For these believers, the “idea was essentially to fight fire with fire—to show that a scientific approach to the Christian truth claims would vindicate their rationality.”24 This approach differs from the magisterial view in that it seems to lack the bias of the magisterial view that considers religious beliefs to be inferior to philosophical or scientific beliefs. That is, evidentialism, unlike the magisterial view, maintains that religious beliefs can enjoy as much support as any other kind of belief.
Evidentialism has helped us to avoid the relativism we expressed concern about in the section above on fideism. But not all Christian philosophers have found this approach appealing. As we saw in chapter 3, some have wondered why a Christian would accept the evidentialist’s demands for evidence in the first place. For example, Alvin Plantinga asks, “Why should we think a theist must have evidence, or reason to think there is evidence, if he is not to be irrational? Why not suppose, instead, that he is entirely within his epistemic rights in believing in God’s existence even if he has no argument or evidence at all?”25 Ronald Nash wonders the same thing: “There are countless things that we believe (and believe properly, justifiably, and rationally) without proof or evidence. We believe in the existence of other minds; we believe that the world continues to exist even when we are not perceiving it. There are countless things that we not only believe but have a right to believe even though we lack proof or evidence.”26 Nash also observes that the very demands of evidentialism fail to satisfy its own standards: “For Clifford, it is immoral to believe anything without proof. But where is the proof for Clifford’s claim? What evidence does Clifford provide for his belief that it is immoral to believe anything in the absence of evidence? First, Clifford warns his reader against acting immorally with respect to his epistemic activities. But then he turns around and acts ‘immorally’ by advancing a thesis for which he provides no proof or evidence.”27
Pragmatism
As we saw in chapter 2, pragmatism is an epistemological approach that grounds truth claims in their utility. In other words, truth is what works. In this approach we should not be concerned with whether a claim corresponds to reality or is internally consistent with other things we think to be true. Rather, on this account we are concerned only with whether an idea or belief is somehow useful for us. If it is useful, it is “true.” If it is not useful, then it should be discarded. William James (1842–1910), often thought to be the father of pragmatism, writes that pragmatism was “the attitude of looking away from first things, principles, ‘categories,’ supposed necessities; and looking toward last things, fruits, consequences, facts.”28 By “looking away” from things like first things, principles, categories, and necessities, James is referring to foundations or rational supports for our beliefs that have typically been the focal point in epistemology. By “looking toward” last things, fruits, and consequences, James is referring to the results that come from our beliefs. Again, the concern for pragmatists is the utility of belief. He then adds, “The true is the name of whatever proves itself to be good in the way of belief, and good, too, for definite, assignable reasons.”29
Within the context of the relationship of faith and reason, pragmatism is a unique approach. First, it seeks to dissolve any conflict between religious beliefs and the theories of science and philosophy. If truth is just what works, then beliefs of all kinds have their place in our lives. Second, pragmatism is a way to provide a degree of justification for our beliefs. One who holds a particular belief is always able to claim that that belief works for oneself. If pragmatism is true, then we are no longer forced to side with either religion or philosophy and science.
Like the other views we’ve considered thus far, there are some concerns with this view. First, pragmatism just doesn’t seem to be a proper view of the nature of truth. In pragmatism, there is no such thing as Truth (with a capital T) in an ultimate sense. So, for example, when we say, “It is wrong to steal,” we typically mean that this is true for me, for you, for us, for them, for everyone, for all time. We typically think that this is just true. But for pragmatism, there is no such thing as truth in this sense. The best a pragmatist can say is that “It is wrong to steal” is true (lowercase t) in a lesser sense. That is, “It is wrong to steal” is simply an idea that we find useful and that works for us in some way. Pragmatism doesn’t square up with our basic intuitions about truth. Second, pragmatism, like other approaches we have considered in this chapter, leads to relativism. If truth is just what works for us, then what do we do when other persons find conflicting ideas and practices to be useful? We will again find ourselves in situations where mutually exclusive, and potentially dangerous, ideas are held up as being “true.”
One final view is also worth our consideration. Recently a number of theologians have advocated for what we might call a dialogical view of the relationship between faith and reason, where theology and science, as well as theology and philosophy, are set up to be natural dialogue partners. As McGrath puts it, “The natural sciences seem to offer to contemporary Christian theology the same intellectual opportunities that earlier generations discerned within Aristotelianism or Cartesianism—the possibility of a dialogue partner with genuine insights to offer, which might be accommodated and exploited within the theological enterprise.”30 Elsewhere McGrath adds that this should be thought of as a “natural dialogue, grounded in the fundamental belief that the God about whom Christian theology speaks is the same God who created the world that the natural sciences investigate.”31 David Clark has argued for a similar approach. For example, Clark says, “We place a particular scientific idea or theory into conversation with a particular theological tradition, model, or doctrine. That is, we bring interpretations of Scripture—theology—into conversation with interpretations of nature—science.”32 And he is clear that “we do not allow science to supersede the Bible itself,”33 but we do allow it to override problematic interpretations of the Bible. One example of the kind of problematic interpretation would be the view that the earth is flat, does not move, or even that it is the center of the universe. He says, “No particular scientific theory, model, or idea possesses authority over Scripture, but there could be a scenario where a scientific claim trumps the deliverances of theology.”34
A number of positives that these theologians believe come from such a partnership. First, they believe that this approach is simply fitting, given what Christians believe about creation. As McGrath notes, if in fact creation and Scripture originate from God, then perhaps they should be considered alongside each other as theories are developed. Second, the notion of “dialogue” is helpful. Dialogue partners often sharpen each other. Sometimes they agree with each other, sometimes they disagree. But in every case, both partners in a dialogue receive the benefit of clarification, further investigating, and a broader grasp of the important issues. These are benefits well worth the investment in dialogue. Third, both disciplines can actually help each other by filling in gaps of explanation or by providing some perspective that the other lacks. For theology, as Clark has mentioned, science can provide insights about the world that help us to avoid problematic interpretations of Scripture. For science, theology can provide a theoretical background for the work of science that explains why science works in the first place. For example, science assumes a rationality of the natural order that it actually has no way of explaining. As John Polkinghorne says, “We are so familiar with the fact that we can understand the world that most of the time we take it for granted. It is what makes science possible. Yet it could have been otherwise. The universe might have been a disorderly chaos rather than an orderly cosmos. Or it might have had a rationality which was inaccessible to us.”35 And as James F. Keating observes, this is precisely where theology is able to offer aid to science: “It is at this point that a Christian conception of nature as creation reveals its illuminative power for science. If one views nature as created by a deity who also created human beings in the divine image, an ‘intrinsic resonance’ between their mental constructs and the intelligible structure of nature is to be expected.”36
Not everyone will be convinced of the virtues of the dialogical approach to faith and reason. As we have seen with thinkers throughout history, dating back as far as Tertullian, some are generally concerned anytime something other than Scripture, especially philosophy or science, is allowed to speak into theology. Some from the sciences will reciprocate, feeling the same way about theology. In their view, “letting religion in” is seen as a step backward, as something that will hurt rather than help science. Perhaps these concerns are legitimate. But then again, perhaps they are overstated.
Conclusion
In this chapter we have explored the relationship between faith and reason by first setting forth what we mean by those terms and what those disciplines are about. We have also considered a variety of views, including faith seeking understanding, the magisterial view, the warfare thesis, fideism, evidentialism, pragmatism, and what we have called the dialogical view. Each has had worthy defenders and champions. But what should we make of all this, and where should we land? While some may prefer different views, we are inclined to identify with Anselm and the tradition of faith seeking understanding. This tradition honestly acknowledges the fact that, as believers, we already have faith commitments. At the same time, with its pursuit of understanding, argumentation, and investigation into the world, this tradition avoids the worrisome concerns associated with fideism. Thus we suggest that this approach offers an appropriate balance between rationality and humility. Yet, in addition to this, we also suggest that there is great merit in the dialogical approaches described above. Indeed, it seems as though a commitment to the Anselmian faith-seeking-understanding approach to faith and reason will also require us to engage in dialogue with history, science, and philosophy.
1. Tertullian, Prescription against Heretics 7, in Ante-Nicene Fathers, ed. Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2004), 3:246.
2. This is at least the textbook account of Tertullian regarding faith and reason. But we should notice that this slight caricature of Tertullian isn’t completely accurate. As it turns out, Tertullian actually made use of Stoic philosophy to work through the doctrine of the Trinity.
3. Anselm, Proslogion, in Anselm of Canterbury: The Major Works (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), 87.
4. Anselm, Proslogion, 87.
5. Augustine, On the Gospel of St. John 29.6, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, ed. Philip Schaff, Series 1 (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2004), 7:184.
6. Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000).
7. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province (Notre Dame, IN: Christian Classics, 1947), 1.1.5.
8. Alister E. McGrath, A Scientific Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 2:57.
9. McGrath, A Scientific Theology, 2:58.
10. Immanuel Kant, What Is Enlightenment?, in Basic Writings of Kant, ed. Allen W. Wood (New York: Modern Library, 2001), 137.
11. Colin A. Russell, “The Conflict of Science and Religion,” in Science and Religion, ed. Gary B. Ferngren (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002), 3.
12. Russell, “Conflict of Science and Religion,” 3.
13. Andrew Dickson White, A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology, 2nd ed. (New York: Dover Publications, 1896), 1:viii. For another example of those who hold this position, see John William Draper, History of the Conflict between Religion and Science (London: Pioneer, 1874).
14. Russell, “Conflict of Science and Religion,” 7–9.
15. Nancy R. Pearcey and Charles B. Thaxton, The Soul of Science: Christian Faith and Natural Philosophy (Wheaton: Crossway, 1994), 19.
16. Vincent Carroll and David Shiflett, Christianity on Trial (San Francisco: Encounter Books, 2002), 57.
17. Chad Meister, Introducing Philosophy of Religion (New York: Routledge, 2009), 154.
18. Søren Kierkegaard, Concluding Unscientific Postscript, trans. Howard Hong and Edna Hong (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992), 29.
19. Kierkegaard, Concluding Unscientific Postscript, 15.
20. Ed. L. Miller, God and Reason (New York: Macmillan, 1972), 126.
21. Meister, Introducing Philosophy of Religion, 154.
22. W. K. Clifford, “The Ethics of Belief,” reprinted in Gateway to the Great Books, ed. Robert M. Hutchins and Mortimer Adler (Chicago: Encyclopedia Britannica, 1963), 10:21. Clifford’s essay has been widely read and reprinted since 1879, when it first appeared in his work Lectures and Essays (London: MacMillan).
23. Clifford, “Ethics of Belief,” 21–22.
24. Kenneth Boa and Robert Bowman, Faith Has Its Reasons: An Integrative Approach to Defending Christianity (Milton Keynes, UK: Paternoster, 2005), 140.
25. Alvin Plantinga, “Reason and Belief in God,” in Faith and Rationality: Reason and Belief in God, ed. Alvin Plantinga and Nicholas Wolterstorff (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1983), 30.
26. Ronald Nash, Faith and Reason (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1988), 73.
27. Nash, Faith and Reason, 73.
28. William James, Pragmatism (New York: Longmans, Green, 1907), 54.
29. James, Pragmatism, 57.
30. Alister E. McGrath, A Scientific Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 1:18–19. See also Kees van Kooten Niekerk, “A Critical Realist Perspective on the Dialogue between Theology and Science,” in Rethinking Theology and Science, ed. Niels Henrik Gregersen and J. Wentzel van Huyssteen (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 51–86; J. Wentzel van Huyssteen, The Shaping of Rationality (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999); Arthur Peacocke, Theology for a Scientific Age (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1990).
31. Alister E. McGrath, The Science of God (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 21.
32. David K. Clark, To Know and Love God (Wheaton: Crossway, 2003), 286 (emphasis in original).
33. Clark, To Know and Love God, 288.
34. Clark, To Know and Love God, 288.
35. John C. Polkinghorne, Science and Creation: The Search for Understanding (Philadelphia: Templeton Foundation, 2006), 29.
36. James F. Keating, “The Natural Sciences as an Ancilla Theologiae Nova: Alister E. McGrath’s A Scientific Theology,” The Thomist 69 (2005): 131.