The Shroud of Turin is a linen cloth, preserved from the first century A.D., bearing what many claim is the ghostly image of Jesus of Nazareth. The Shroud, now housed in Turin, Italy, bears blood stains consistent with crucifixion. It also shows traces of flowers native to Jerusalem. Most importantly, the "image" of Jesus, imprinted on the cloth without the aid of paint or pigment, appears to have been made by radiation. A burst of energy, coming off the body the shroud covered, must have left Christ's image in the manner of a photographic plate.
Nothing in the fields of physics or chemistry can fully explain the image or how it got there. The Shroud is a vestige of the Resurrection. Physical evidence of Christianity.
I know. Exciting. It's the I-knew-it-moment for Christians, the evidence we can point to and say, "HA! There's no stopping us now: We've got science on our side."
All of this, the information on the Shroud and the subsequent informed euphoria, came to me when I attended a lecture on "Empirical Evidence for the Resurrection of Jesus Christ." It was delivered Dr. Brian Miller in White Lecture Hall and was sponsored by various campus ministries.
Dr. Miller travels the country lecturing on scientific issues from a "faith perspective." He received his Ph.D. in physics from Duke. And admittedly, between the fancy science words, the power point and the crowd of a hundred-or-so nodding students, he had me pretty much won-over, wide-eyed and giddy. That is, until the frank, detailed lecture gave way to prayer and reflections on faith and Truth. With a capital "T." Then I remembered: Faith and science don't mix.
These two facets of our University, religion and science, remain firm on their own, cemented by centuries of study. The Chapel stands prominently in the middle of campus, the Divinity School to its left, the integral sidekick. On Science Drive, separated from the Chapel by a maze of forestry, stand the equally fancy science buildings. Between the two, there is little physical overlap. Similarly, any intellectual combination of the two areas seems to lead to confusion and few converts. Because religion requires faith, and science is frustrated by faith. In religion, we can't point to or prove revelation, expose the guiding hand through study and equations. In science, we can go on hunches and form hypotheses but, at the end of the day, evidence is the name of the game. There will always be mystery in religion. In science, mystery, while exciting, is viewed as a challenge, a force to be extinguished.
When the two fields are combined, when a scientifically educated man stands before a hall of students and provides evidence for the existence of the son of God, something doesn't sit right. Science does not do credit to religion, and religion does even less for science. Scientific evidence, however marvelous, turns faith into a practice of scrutiny and doubt, a systematic study that may, and perhaps should, prove fruitless. On the other hand, when you bring religion to science, when you look at physics, chemistry and biology from a "faith perspective," you get knee-jerk skepticism and embarrassed looks.
And a kid prancing around outside after the lecture declaring, "That guy was full of sh-!"
While part of me was inclined to agree with the kid, another part of me wanted to slap him. Or splash him with holy water. Because, for those of us who believe in both God and evolution, physics and the Holy Spirit, it's a touchy subject. It's possible there is no real way to reconcile what higher, secular education has revealed to us and what we learn in scripture-and this is infinitely frustrating.
Yet, because it is human nature to interpret what we don't understand in terms that we do, men like Dr. Miller try to prove the Resurrection with carbon-dating and forensic evidence. Others try to manipulate God into evolution with theories like intelligent design. Religious academics attempt to speak scientifically because, in our society, the language of science is the language of legitimacy.
Perhaps that's the way it should be: When religion becomes the currency of educated discourse, Galileo gets in trouble with the Church.
What I have seen of the integration of faith and science has left me confused and a little uncomfortable. Maybe there's concord between the two, and we just haven't found it. Maybe we're just too scared of what we risk in credibility and resolution every time they meet.
Albert Einstein once said, "Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind." That sounds nice, a mutually reliant harmony for which we should strive. But, for now, religion and science might have to stay put, separate but equal.
Lindsay White is a Trinity sophomore. Her column runs every other Monday.
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