The world is a baffling place.
The great feats of Newton and the Enlightenment and Baconian science once had us confident that the inner workings of the natural world would soon be known exhaustively. We thought that we would eventually be able to map out, in their entirety, the natural laws that governed all natural phenomena, just like cartographers map out geography.
But ever since the late 19th century, we have been learning that the classical physics of Newton et. al. only describe particular aspects of the world; as for those other aspects, particularly the quantum aspects, it appears that the more we learn about them, the more frequently we are confounded by them. Even though we've come a long way in understanding the quantum realm, we won't have anything near the certainty we once had regarding classical physics until we are able to understand the precise relationship between the micro and the macro and why they operate so differently.
The world is a baffling place.
What's even more disconcerting is that quantum physics isn't the most baffling thing about it. We are.
Our quest to understand ourselves, our societies and cultures, our languages, our behavior and our choices, has arguable yielded relatively little fruit when compared with what we've accomplished in the sciences. For example, we certainly have an exponentially better understanding of the physics of motion than Aristotle did; however, if we ask the question, "Why was Socrates executed?" can any of us legitimately claim to give an empirically better answer than Plato did?
Like someone who's never seen a reflection in a mirror, we seem to understand nearly everything outside of ourselves better than we understand ourselves. Our struggles to understand our very own brains seems like an itch that comes from deep under the skin and all the scratching in the world just doesn't relieve it.
The world is a baffling place.
Even the Holy Bible acknowledges that truth. If you've read Job and Ecclesiastes, then you know that they are books about men who learn faith and humility the hard way, when their philosophies and theologies fail them. They are confronted with the limitations of their minds in the face of a God who refuses, for whatever reason, to spell things out for them.
In fact, this lesson is not only to be found in Job and Ecclesiastes, as most of the Scriptures are written in this way--images, metaphors, parables, crazy stories about people who do crazy things, sometimes brave and noble, sometimes wicked and dumb. And guess what . . . no footnotes!
What baffles me the most then is why on Earth any Christian would feel comfortable being so damn certain all the time.
When the Scriptures talk about faith, it's in regard to what we know about God. Even though we can't by any means prove it, we are to have faith in God's goodness and character, and in the saving work of Jesus Christ.
But faith is not a good way of knowing scientific facts. Nor is it a good way of learning politics. It's not even a good way of knowing why particular things happen to particular people or cities or nations (just ask Job about that one.)
Faith is a way of knowing God, and when it is appropriated in other ways, it is being misused.
Of course, our beliefs about God will influence our beliefs about everything else. That is inevitable, and it's a good thing. But the whole "absolute certainty" thing just isn't Biblical, simply put.
2 comments:
Ken, you quite pointedly ask "if we ask the question, 'Why was Socrates executed?' can any of us legitimately claim to give an empirically better answer than Plato did?" As you do, you imply that we cannot, in fact, do so. Does not this stand as a case study supporting those who seek to undermine the education in the humanities from which you have profited?
For it is true that, despite your correctness in arguing against certainty, many people are certain...that those such as you and I, who have devoted years to the study of such things, are wrong for having done so.
That's a good point that I hadn't considered before. I certainly had no intention of undermining the humanities.
I was actually trying to speak against the exaltation of empiricism over other methods of knowing.
That's what I mean when I say we can't give an "empirically" better answer. We have no methods today by which we can be absolutely certain that we understand human nature better than the ancients did. I wouldn't say that's a bad thing. The only way it can be a bad thing is if we say that empirical knowledge is inherently superior to more subject modes of knowledge.
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