Reconciling God and Einstein

In recent years, the uneasy tension between science and faith has escalated into a full-out war of attrition.

It began with the debates over teaching creationism and evolutionary theory in the early 1990s, and 9/11 further opened the door for accusations about the harm religion and fundamentalism can cause. The ongoing debate over intelligent design is only the latest battlefield in this increasingly contentious culture war. Richard Dawkins and Sam Harris have introduced a new level of vehemence to the attacks on religion with their best-selling anti-religion polemics, which are at least as extreme as a hellfire and brimstone sermon from Jerry Falwell.

In a debate so frenzied on each side, John Polkinghorne’s “Quantum Physics and Theology: An Unexpected Kinship” is a refreshing addition to the discourse: its thesis is actually arguable and not merely a didactic attempt at persuasion. Though Polkinghorne’s book will not provide the reader with conclusive answers on the superiority of religion or science, it thoughtfully examines the intersection of the two—and in doing so, contributes much more to the debate.

Scientists, especially physicists, seem to feel compelled to give opinions on theology. Albert Einstein made numerous remarks about his own beliefs, not only stating that he was “a deeply religious man,” but defining precisely what religion and God meant to him. Richard Feynman, the Nobel Prize-winning physicist who penned an array of entertaining autobiographical works, never wrote a book about theology but nonetheless addresses it several times in his writing (he declined to believe in God but admitted that for some physicists, faith and science are compatible).

It appears that studying the mysteries of the universe naturally leads to the consideration of whether there is anything behind it all.

Having spent time as both a theoretical physicist and an Anglican priest, John Polkinghorne attempts to straddle the two worlds of science and theology. His goal is not to defend religion or to place it in a hierarchy above science, but rather to show that theology and physics have distinct similarities in the methods they use and their ultimate aims.

For Polkinghorne, the two are not conflicting ideologies; they are engaged in a parallel pursuit of the same goal: truth.

Polkinghorne wisely limits the scope of his book, making it both more concrete and more readable. He does not attempt to address all of the main Western religions, as Sam Harris does, and thereby avoids inaccuracies or sweeping generalizations.

Polkinghorne also makes a smart move in comparing theology with physics, not biology. Dawkins frequently relies on evolutionary biology when making his case for the impracticability of religion. Polkinghorne does not try to enter into the creationism vs. intelligent design vs. evolution debate, focusing only on the attempts of both physics and theology to grapple with seemingly inexplicable facts.

But despite the expansiveness and complexity of these topics, Polkinghorne works to keep the book accessible.

It is divided into four major chapters, each of which consists of several brief summaries and comparisons of topics in theology and physics. Though this demarcation benefits lay readers with average attention spans, it also prevents Polkinghorne from exploring any one concept in great depth. Often, the reader is introduced to a fascinating idea, only to have it almost immediately abandoned for another concept.

Though “Quantum Physics and Theology” would be a shoddy introduction to either topic, it succeeds at demonstrating parallels between Christian studies and quantum physics to show patterns of similarity. For example, both “relativistic quantum theory” and “the historical Jesus of Nazareth” go through phases of popularity that affect the amount of research being done. In each field, the current intellectual trends of society impact the discoveries made.

Polkinghorne is at his best when he delves into the methodology of both physics and theology. He gives an insightful account of the patterns in each field’s acquisition of knowledge. Polkinghorne culminates with a discussion of both fields’ quest for the “General Unified Theory,” the theory that will cohesively explain everything, without loose ends or aberrations.

Though physics and theology are on equal footing in most of the book, in the conclusion the Anglican priest trumps the theoretical physicist.

Polkinghorne rejects the possibility of science providing a complete “Theory of Everything,” saying, “if [scientists] want to pursue the search for understanding through and through…they will have to be prepared to go beyond the limits of science itself in the search for the widest and deepest context of intelligibility. I think that this further quest, if openly pursued, will take the enquirer in the direction of religious belief.”

In the end, Polkinghorne has to choose a side in the debate, and for him, religion, not science, is the best path to truth. However, to discard the first 108 pages of insightful analysis of method because of the opinion in the last two pages would be hasty at the least.

“Quantum Physics and Theology” succeeds in its ultimate goal: it provides an engaging comparison of the different ways humans search for truth.

—Reviewer Madeline K.B. Ross can be reached at mross@fas.harvard.edu.