The New Theology

More than 350 years after the inquisition hounded Galileo over charges of heresy, physicist Howard Van Till, of Calvin College in Michigan, confronted a little inquisition of his own. Van Till roused a small but fervent pack of enemies at the conservative college with his book, "The Fourth Day," in which he argued that the stories of the Bible and science's account of evolution could both be true. His critics on the school's board of trustees had no interest in reconciling the religious account of creation with a naturalist explanation of how life and the universe have evolved over the ages. For years after the book's release in 1986, Van Till reported to a monthly interrogation where he struggled to reassure college officials that his scientific teachings fit within their creed.

The union of Darwinian theory with genetics has shown that natural processes on their own can yield organisms and molecular machinery of stunning complexity. Random variation is evolution's fuel, not supernatural ingenuity. Genetic inheritance locks in those random traits that help a creature survive or pass on its genes. Bit by bit, life branches into a million twigs on a vast evolutionary tree. Evolution starts with randomness and, through the constant hoarding of crucial changes, churns out decidedly non-random inventions--the wings of a bat, the microscopic weaponry of a virus, the subtle mind of a human being.

The religious response is simple, some believers say: God used evolution to create us. But invoking God's direct guidance raises daunting scientific hurdles. Ever since the publication in 1859 of Darwin's "Origin of Species," religious writers have tried to cram the idea of design back into evolution, often without success.

Many such believers would, of course, find a theology of evolution difficult to accept, but it may be an even harder sell among scientists. Ursula Goodenough, a professor of biology at Washington University in St. Louis, says she considers herself a "religious naturalist," yet her beliefs don't include God. Instead, she visits churches in an effort to excite believers about the awe-inspiring, 13.7 billion-year story of the universe and the evolutionary epic that binds humanity together, along with the rest of life on Earth. She said she draws inspiration from Thomas Berry, a 93-year-old Catholic priest and scholar, who has argued that the new story of cosmology and evolution is as important for people of faith as the stories in the Bible.

"You start with the scientific story and see what you can do with it religiously," says Goodenough, author of "The Sacred Depths of Nature." "The one rule is that you don't get to cherry-pick and fool around with these scientific understandings of nature, so that things turn out the way you want."

Dawkins says he considers Goodenough an ally in his crusade for scientific atheism, but Goodenough says that's not quite accurate. "There's one really important difference between us," she says. "Traditional religions give him a stomachache, and they don't give me a stomachache. I don't have any urge to go around pointing out their problems."

•	The New Theology Chicago Tribune magazine, Sunday, Jan. 20, 2008 Byline: Jeremy Manier