Metaphysics at 6th & Maple
Dr. Bernard Ramm died this year! Writer of many scholarly books and articles, he is remembered, at least by me, as the author of The Christian View of Science and Scripture (London, The Paternoster Press, 1955). It was an important book for those who puzzled about the absence, as well as the possible presence, of dinosaurs on Noah’s ark. The Covenant Weekly, quoted on the dust jacket of his book, called it, “A thought-provoking book. It is sympathetic and Biblical in its presentation. A good book for a winter’s meditation.”
Yes, for spring, summer, and fall as well! I assigned it to my students in Old Testament one year at North Park College, as many were struggling to combine a belief in Biblical creation with knowledge of an immensely old earth.
I liked the definite article in Ramm’s title, and I appreciated the honest and courageous way he set out to harmonize modern science and Scripture. For example, he concluded the chapter on geology with the unqualified statement that the flood of Genesis, chapters 6-9, was a local event in the Mesopotamian valley.
The record is mute about man in America or Africa or China. The types of vegetation destroyed quickly grew again over the wasted area, and other animals migrated back into the area, so that after a period of time the damaging effects of the flood were obliterated. (169)
Denial of a universal flood, so common and reasonable a position for Christians today, was unacceptable to most evangelicals in the ’30s and ’40s. Some, because of this book, excluded Ramm from their doctrinal campgrounds; whereas others, with qualifications, regarded him as a pioneer. Still others, like John C. Whitcomb, Jr., challenged almost every line, especially Ramm’s local flood theory. Moody Monthly, to its credit, found that “Dr. Ramm deals plainly with the unfortunate, religio-scientific literature which fails to meet the issue squarely and is at times an obscurantist’s refuge” (dust jacket).
Space prevents me from discussing the many safe, but obscure, harbors in which Christians took refuge in those days. I can only tell of my own.
The need for refuge began for me with a moment of illumination I had one day at the corner of 6th and Maple Streets in Iron River, Michigan. Out of the blue, a realistic picture of life flashed in my consciousness — I knew in an instant that all people, along with animals and birds, are born, grow, reproduce, and inevitably die. I was probably eight or nine when this “Aha” manifestation struck.
I had not yet heard of the young Siddhartha, founder of Buddhism, but, looking back, our visions had some affinities. He saw, as you may recall, an old man, a sick man, a dead man, and, finally, a calm monk dressed in a saffron robe. I saw none of these, but, like him, I felt let down. I remember thinking, shortly after the insight came as I continued walking downtown, so this is what life is all about, this is how things go for humans and the rest. Just when I got the hang of life, the bottom dropped out. That epiphany was to change forever the way I thought about myself, others, and the world.
The theological framework for my newly experienced worldview, provided by hours of worship and education among Mission Friends, kept me from the Buddha’s alleged reaction to his dawning reality about aging, suffering, and death — “Shame on birth, shame on life that it ends up so!” The Church and my personal Christian experience brought hope, optimism, and confidence that God controlled the human scene and that God’s mighty acts of creation and redemption gave meaning and purpose to finitude.
The big picture, including nature and supernature, was not however, free of conflict and puzzlement. I remember being intrigued with the colorful dinosaur pictures and models given out with gas purchased at the Sinclair Oil Station in Iron River. The huge size and unusual shapes and features of these prehistoric critters made me wonder about their absence from the Biblical accounts. I lived for a time in two worlds — one populated by the Biblical animals, along with others I saw on farms and in the woods; the other populated by these gigantic, extinct, “secular” animals. Many unanswered questions kept these two animal worlds apart. I don’t recall that my questions about dinosaurs were ever discussed in Sunday School or elsewhere.
The Zoology course I took at North Park College in 1946 gave me an opportunity finally to study the great age of the earth and these enormous, non-Biblical beasts. In an effort to bring all my worlds — the 6th and Maple vision, the theological framework, and these “secular” animals — together, I became deeply involved in the creation/evolution controversy. Here was my chance to think in depth about the gigantic dinosaurs that paleontologists had unearthed, the reconstructed models, of which had at one point adorned my shelves.
The readings assigned for Zoology 101 presented the view that millions and millions of years had preceded the emergence of humankind. These readings provided me with some explanations of what went on before Biblical days and helped me put the two animal worlds together; but at the same time they made me suspicious of “godless” scientists who were conspiring to create doubt about special creation.
Given their devious ways of creating disbelief, and my understanding of what they were up to, I knew that creationism needed defending. I decided then and there that I would rise to the occasion and defend the Faith. The Zoology 101 term paper Miss Hinshaw assigned would be, providentially, my verbal vehicle.
I researched my paper with a passion, reading everything I could find by conservative authors — Dr. Harry Rimmer, The Harmony of Science and Scripture, Dr. O. E. Sanden, Does Science Support Scripture, Dr. George McCready Price, The New Geology, and so on. Unconcerned about their limited scientific qualifications, I read these works uncritically.
Dr. Rimmer, (1890-1952), especially, was my man. He wrote convincingly about the disagreements among scientists, the loopholes in their arguments, the hoaxes in their evidence, and the inconsistencies in their use of the scientific method. A kind of John L. Sullivan of the absolutely scientific trustworthiness of the Scofield Bible, he took on all comers. I loved the way he took the eminent paleontologists apart limb by limb.
The meld of Rimmer, Sanden, Price, some well-selected Bible verses, and my own conclusions which formed my term paper so impressed my teacher that it came back graded “A.” Her note alongside the grade was glowing and encouraging. What a defender of the Faith!
In time, I came to see that my crusader stance, including the ill-conceived Zoology term paper, were pseudo safe havens I would have to leave behind in order to deal seriously with the issue. Courses taken from 1949-1952 in science and the philosophy of science at Michigan State University and the University of Michigan were enlightening and challenging.
Those academic experiences, along with reading Ramm’s book, The Christian View of Science and Scripture, helped me see some new ways of understanding the relationship between a scientific worldview and the Christian Faith. His work encouraged me to continue my struggle toward unification. The main point he made was that the Bible is not a reliable source for scientific facts. Stated positively, the Biblical authors present poetically what went on in the beginning.
Nonetheless, his famous 1955 book is now old hat. A unified theory — the all-encompassing view — is much more evasive than he imagined.
There are no safe havens. Inquiry into the origin, nature, and destiny of humankind continues unabated. Whether one looks at life as a theologian, scientist, artist, anthropologist, or philosopher — or through other lenses, the mystery remains intact. And so does the reality of the finiteness of life, which first intersected my boyhood path at 6th and Maple. Time batters us all ceaselessly, and finally washes away all individual forms.
I no longer require a theological system to counteract the knowledge that I too shall die. In the midst of the everchanging scenes of my life are revealed surprising, essential resources — grace, love, hope, the everlasting arms, the Logos, and more — which transform, sustain meaning, and make me feel at home in the world. It is enough to have access to these resources as I live and move and be. The wonder and rapture of being alive in the beauty of God’s created order is what it is all about.
Existence between the boundaries of birth and death, limited as it is, has myriad exciting possibilities for self-fulfillment and transcendence. In the context of finitude, modified in scope and expanded greatly in complexity from what first arrested me on that corner, I find rich treasures in the many dimensions of life — the personal, moral, spiritual, physical, and aesthetic. Living within the confines of time and space is in no sense whatever a “let down.”