For a short while, I fancied myself a theistic evolutionist. I realize now that I can’t really carry that label. First, I hate labels. Second, the one label I do want to carry is “Christian.” I don’t think being a Christian necessarily commits a person to a particular view about “evolution,” if that means simply that organisms change gradually over deep time and all of life shares a common genetic heritage. Those facts, it seems to me, are irrefutable. But I do think being a Christin commits a person to a particular view of humanity, and particularly of humanity in relation to God. We surely don’t know all the details of exactly what it means that God formed man “out of the dust of the ground” (Gen. 2:7) or exactly in what ways the Biblical references to “Adam” and the “Garden” are literary stylizations. But, fundamentally, I think being a Christian entails a theology that asserts (a) humans are in some way unique among the creatures of the earth; (b) humans at their root, in their first representatives created by God, had a special relationship of fellowship with God and each other; and (c) the first human representatives broke that relationship and this has affected all of us in relation to God, each other, and the rest of creation, ever since. This is what sets the stage for God’s relationship with Israel and for the cross of Christ.
In this regard, I’m really troubled by Karl Giberson’s summary on Steve Martin’s blog of his forrthcoming book, “Saving Darwin.” Now, I want to be careful here, because I haven’t read Giberson’s entire book yet. The book was blurbed, with some reservations, by John Wilson, Editor of Books & Culture, whose judgment usually is sensible. Maybe some context will help, but, in his guest post, Giberson says this:
I suggest in Saving Darwin that we must abandon the historicity of the Genesis creation account. Adam and Eve must not be thought of as real people or even surrogates for groups of real people; likewise the Fall must disappear from history as an event and become, instead, a partial insight into the morally ambiguous character with which evolution endowed our species. Human uniqueness is called into question and we must consider extending the imago dei, in some sense, beyond our species. These are not simple theological tasks but, if we can embrace them, I think we may be able to finally make peace with Darwin’s Dangerous Idea.
To me, this is an important place at which Christian theology has to “push back” at science in dialectical tension. It seems to me that Giberson here advocates that we concede a central motif of the Christian story. I don’t think this is an “evangelical” issue; it seems to me to be a “Christian” issue.
If this is what it means to be a theistic evolutionist, I am not one. I’m not sure what that makes me — I respectfully reject young earth creationism, I think old earth day-age creationism isn’t fair either to the Biblical or scientific records, and I think much of the contemporary “intelligent design” debate — much, not all — just recycles William Paley’s theologically and scientifically discredited watchmaker arguments. Maybe a real synthesis and “peace” between “faith” and “science” in some respects simply is not achievable in this life. I don’t like it, but maybe a humble, respectful, but firm patience here is part of the “not yet” walk of faith.
10 replies on “What's Wrong with Theistic Evolution?”
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I certainly agree with you there. As far as I understand it, the quote you cite wants us to think of the Genesis story in terms of the Darwinian one. I think, for a Christian, that is precisely backwards. If anything, we should do the opposite. We should think of the long history of evolution on Earth as God speaking the world into being and calling it good. We should think of the arrival of man on the Earth as God creating man in his own image. We should think of the suffering and death in evolution – nature red in tooth and claw – not as a benign and justified fact of nature, but somehow as a consequence of the rebellion of God’s image bearing icons (cursed is the ground because of you). In other words, Darwin’s story needs to be read by Christians in terms of the scriptures, not the other way around.
By the way, have you had a chance to read Mike Gene’s The Design Matrix? It’s by far the best thing I’ve read in the ID debate.
Wonders — great comment. The only place I’d have some reservations is on the “nature red in tooth and claw” thing. Yes, the curse affects all of creation — but I tend to think of this more in terms of humanity’s relationship to the creation and stewardship over it.
I understand your reservations – I mean, we’re talking about effect preceding cause which is rather counterintuitive. Perhaps the pervasiveness of death in evolution might be better understood through the parable of the wheat and the weeds. But I do think there is something to seeing a spider slowly sucking the lifeblood out of a struggling fly, or the wasp that paralyzes her prey and lays eggs on it that feed on the still living body of the victim (saving the vital organs for last to keep the meat “fresh”), and have no language but a cry. Creation groans in bondage to decay, and if this isn’t an expression of that I don’t know what is. As such, I have no problem with extending the effects of the fall “backwards” such that in our science all we can see is death from the beginning of time, and yet one can also see in nature the glory of God through the veil of tears.
Wonders — yes, I think that “backwards causation” sort of idea is a very interesting one. I guess one hesitation I’d have is whether we’re anthropomorphizing that wasp and fly too much. If death and struggle at that level are “evil,” how can we say creation declares God’s glory, and how could He ever have called it “good?” Just walking around, we squash untold millions of bacteria — is that “evil”? I don’t know — the physical processes that allow us to appreciate the glories and beauty of creation, and even to digest our food, depend utterly on the kind of death we’re considering here. There are no glowing fields of flowers that aren’t literally rooted in the natural decay. Yet, I like the notion that creation in this sense has a “cruciform” shape — death brings life. Maybe indeed thatwas built into the present creation in anticipation of the death and victorious resurrection of Christ.
It is true that everything we know of life is made possible by death – that’s very much the pattern of this world. You need to take life from something in order to gain life for yourself. This is true of the smallest bacteria to the wars and murders of man. But I think warnings against anthropomorphism ring hollow, especially as we perceive the suffering of animals. Take a good dog, whose leg is maimed in some horrible accident, and whose pleading eyes look up to its master trying to understand why it cannot walk. Creation groans and longs for the freedom of the sons of God – and this is deeper reality than mere metaphor.
You say that “nature red in tooth and claw” has a “cruciform” shape, but I think that the cross is the very opposite. The cross is the antithesis of taking life from someone else to gain it for yourself due to the scarcity of life in the world – it is rather the creator giving his life and taking our evil, suffering, and death upon himself. It is losing your life to find it – giving it so that others might live. It is the reversal of the pattern of the powers of the world. The cross is a gift of life out of the infinite abundance of God himself, and the empty tomb comes not from taking the life of another, but of the glorious new creation that comes from subverting the very nature of death. In a word, the cross is not the justification of death, but its overthrow.
Not wearing out your welcome at all — this is great conversation! Your point about the “cruciform shape” of creation is a good one. Some people in faith-and-science dialogues, particularly those who are trying to grapple with biological evolution, use this is a central approach to a theodicy of “natural evil.” I’ve found it helpful, but like you, not entirely adequate. I think it can be helpful in that it shows us that in this present creation, suffering is necessary for life. What we see in the cross of Christ is that God Himself enters into that suffering and transforms even it — so that it is qualitatively different, as you mention, from the dog-eat-dog suffering of the animal world. To fully flesh this out, it has to be tied to a very robust “Christus Victor” view of the atonement — which you also allude to.
But I agree, the metaphor breaks down, at least for me, in view of something like the suffering of your favorite dog, or of smart, self-aware animals like elephants. And so I agree, something like this “backward” notion of the fall is needed. Many of the folks who talk about the cruciform shape of creation also talk about a “proleptic” eschatology — that God created with the end, the victory, the new heavens and the new earth, already in view. The cross and the new creation aren’t “plan B,” in this view — they’re part of God’s knowledge and plans for creation from before creation. Difficult to get the heart and mind around, but interesting to consider.
And thank you for recommending the Hart book. I’ve read some of his stuff before, and he’s amazing. After reading the blurb on your blog, I ordered the book. I think this is exactly the sort of thing I need to be reading now. So, thanks!
The cross and the new creation aren’t “plan B,” in this view — they’re part of God’s knowledge and plans for creation from before creation. Difficult to get the heart and mind around, but interesting to consider.
Per, Hart, I am a little cautious about things like this, in that I think there is a real danger of seeing evil as an ontological necessity for good – good being intrinsically dependent on evil. Of course, as a Christian, I suppose there is a mysterious sense in which we must say that our salvation was planned by God before all worlds, but I think we need to be very careful not to attribute evil to the plan of God, and thus justify it in any way. I think even the Westminster Confession of Faith (the main confessional expression of Calvinism) agrees with not making God the author of sin, so I doubt we really disagree on this.
I hope you’ll enjoy the book – I look forward to your review! 😉