You, me, God and Darwin

 

For many Christian believers, accepting the factuality of an evolutionary process  in the shaping of the human species has been “a bridge too far.” For them, too much depends on the creationist view of origins to allow for compromise on the Genesis account. They tend to say that if the Genesis creation account is untrustworthy, then how can the rest of the Old Testament/Bible be trusted?

               A majority of Christians, I think, have settled on a kind of compromise: two accounts of the origins of living species, both with merit and both intriguing, but no urgency for them personally to pick one over the other. If this is you, you can probably sing with gusto, “This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears, all nature sings and ‘round me rings the music of the spheres,” and then go back to work at carbon-dating and classifying fossils that pre-date Abrahamic religions’ creation accounts by millions of years.

               Apologists for the Judeo-Christian creation account like to point out  that some Darwinian evolutionists are also influential and practicing believers. I imagine this means to show that both the Bible and Charles Darwin’s The Origin of Species can be simultaneously “true.” That somehow both are, in their own way, saying the same thing, possibly.

               And then there are those who read the Genesis creation account as allegory. They may say that the tree bearing the fruit Adam and Eve were forbidden to eat is called the “tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil” precisely to indicate that it’s a teaching parable and not a history. They might well conclude further that the eating of the forbidden fruit parallels an evolutionist’s reference to the genesis of consciousness in human species development.  

               And then there are those for whom compromises of this kind are simply intellectual folly. Like Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris and Christopher Hitchens, they will declare that all reliable evidence points to a universe without any supernatural forces or beings. Hence, there’s no progress to be made on subjects of the nature or the origins of life if the overwhelming evidence is systematically discarded or ignored.

               It’s no wonder that the topic of evolution vs. creation doesn’t often appear in Christian Church forums or Sunday School classes, isn’t often presented academically from pulpits, that it can require a “carefully-composed” dialogue between Mennonite schools or MCC and their constituents. Deeply acculturated to a Christian/creationist worldview, Mennonite congregations and conferences are as reluctant as anyone to walk voluntarily through that mine field.

               Should we be tackling the dichotomy between creation/evolution in order to, for instance, ease the stress it’s bound to place upon maturing, individual Christians? Some more than others? I once asked a Biology teacher at RJC High School how he approached the subject of evolution in that Mennonite Church-based school. His answer—more or less—was that he presents the curricular information about the theory of evolution so students know what’s being talked about when the subject arises. (His hesitant, careful answer was probably influenced by knowing that I was chair of the board.)

               For the most conservative constituents and parents, instruction about evolution—if not evolution itself—would already teach more than they’d want their student-children to be taught. I think we all understand how fragile believing in invisible forces and beings can be when faced with tangible evidence; we need only replay our experience of having believed in Santa Clause until the evidence made believing impossible. Hiding or fogging the evidence, then, can become a necessary—although questionable—strategy for preserving “faith” into next generations.

               But there is a price to be paid for hiding or avoiding a subject out of fear of consequences. For parents and teachers to withhold proper instruction on sexuality (as earlier generations were prone to do) and see children hit puberty with a suitcase full of misinformation gathered willy-nilly is to “sow the wind and reap the whirlwind”(Hosea 8:7). Christian religion generally has done remarkably poorly at the task of equipping their young for successful and fulfilling living in our complicated, post-modern world, especially if trust in God and trust in Science are—out of the fear of consequences—made to constitute a vital, and binary, choice. Is it possible that dwindling membership in traditional denominations is rooted in youth and young adult disaffection with a church that refuses—or is unable—to help them navigate the age? Where, one might ask, is the tipping point where, like Esau in the Biblical legend, one judges that trading one’s inheritance away to feed an immediate appetite makes sense?

               For most Christians, faith in God is an inheritance handed down from preceding generations. How devalued must that inheritance be in order to make a bowl of lentils look like a reasonable trade? Although the most strident atheists may want the inheritance every generation hands down to be judged on the basis of “evidentiary proof,” Christians are not bound exclusively by that criterion. We can, for instance, teach that creation and evolution are models—which they are—and that they can be judged on the peace, safety, nutrition, happiness, or in general, the well-being they contribute to humanity. If our Mennonite inheritance includes, at least, a refusal to exercise violence against other people, the priesthood of every believer, a commitment to honesty in social and economic discourse, a generosity to the point of self-imposed poverty, etc., have we North American Mennonites preserved the integrity of that model? Or have we allowed it to become tarnished, of a value that makes a bowl of lentils to hungry youth an attractive trade?

               It’s not from our preaching, teaching that we’ll polish up this bundle we hand on to the future, but in our participation in the crusade started by Jesus to bring about a kingdom based upon “Love the Lord, your God (and what was evolved or created to sustain life, in my interpretation) and your neighbour as yourself.” This is, after all, “the entirety of the law and the prophets (Matthew 22:37-40).”

               For many, it seems, the “bridge too far” is closer than for others; for a pastor (let’s say) to sit down with a biologist and anthropologist to explore common human problems easily suggests a liberalization that smells of apostasy to some. In my small town, at least two independent churches have formed around reactions to a liberalization of Mennonite church direction on issues like gender, divorce and remarriage, Genesis as history, a waning of piety, a split between social and evangelical mission, etc., and the more-general fear of creeping accommodation to “the world” that such changes are deemed to signal. The Christian church is no stranger to internal upheaval, knows that it’s forever on the verge of civil war where and when creedal matters come into play.

               Which brings me to my main point: as in the creation or evolution conundrum, we are failing to teach our children how to navigate the paradoxes that are endemic to this post-modern age. Angry quarreling (over, let’s say, pre-marital sexual intercourse) followed by the formation of like-minded talking groups, then culminating in individuals or groups leaving to form a new fellowship of the agreeable is a pattern with which we’re familiar. Our ancestors apparently failed to teach us that 1) in a faith community, liberal minds exist to visualize possible futures, especially in chaotic times, and 2) conservative minds serve to regulate the speed and direction of change, and 3) that with the Holy Spirit’s help, a solution to any conundrum is within reach if a commitment to unity is foundational. It can be called negotiating-in-love-and-humility—and we’re generally rotten at it. Too many of us, too often, prefer our hackles … raised!

My “creationist” church guides me in my daily walk—especially when obedient discipleship, active love and reverence for creation are the best answers—and binds me in community of purpose to other seekers; Darwin reminds me that my life is intertwined elementally with all life on earth, and that clarifies much that’s vitally important in an age of environmental uncertainty. It’s not a binary choice; I wouldn’t want to do without either.

My imaginary friend, philosopher Klavier Onk, says, “God creates everything; Darwin tells us how She does it.” He’s obviously trying to start another fight, the rascal.