I had a number of conversations - with different people - this weekend about the alleged intersections (and resulting incongruities) between science and religion. I noticed a
1) Scientifically speaking, I am the most educated devout believer that I know. This likely comes from the fact that I don't talk to many people at church about science or in class about religion, so it's difficult to tell. Now, in terms of philosophical and theological reasoning, I would have to concede that throne to Mark Quist, one of my roommates. Regardless, I consider myself to be abnormally well-informed on the issue, as I often find myself on the defensive when the topic is brought up. This proceeds directly to
2) Atheists love ignorance more than it is popularly believed. If you are an ignorant agnostic, then I'm fine with you. In fact, given your ignorance, I would encourage agnosticism. However, the mere idea that one would proclaim a statement so bold as, "There is no god." with as little proof as your average proclaimer holds is a little staggering. Given the fact that in speaking thusly, there is a chance - however slight - that your soul may be doomed to eternal torment, I would personally give the issue some pretty severe consideration. However, some people argue that God does not exist based simply around the argument that "bad shit happens." They then defend this stance, militantly, when presented with conundrums such as the Problem of Evil, issues with the idea of consciousness and self-awareness (thus the implied existence of a soul), and other, similar, philosophical issues, all with the same basis. Some of them will counter with scientific evidence. For that instance, I have actually developed a number of preset counterpoints which I deploy at appropriate times. If you're interested (and perhaps wish to construct a counter or two of your own) they follow:
a) The inevitability of fate: Without an external force, the universe is simply an ever-unfolding chemical and physical reaction. When you combine methane and oxygen, you will always get carbon dioxide and water. The laws of physics and chemistry say that this will, in fact, always occur. The sodium-potassium exchanges in your cells will always behave predictably. Extending this argument, given the makeup of chemicals at the beginning of the universe, there is only one possible outcome. If the atheist is willing to accept this fate, there is little more that can be argued on this front.
b) If he has taken a theoretical physics course, he will counter with counter with high-flying ideas of Dark Matter, the String Theory, and Relativity. If he mentions relativity, he is retarded and should be bludgeoned immediately (unless he is actually retarded). He will assume that upon simply bringing up these topics, your feeble, religious mind has been rent into pieces so small they can scarcely be perceived. This technique has been used against me a few times, only the poor souls had the unfortunate realization that I know more math than they even knew existed, indeed probably more than does exist. The fact is that these theories rely on probability, which is fair for science, in most aspects, as rarely can every external circumstance be measured. They may also know that when approaching certain singularities in space and time - most notably, the event horizon of a black hole - these probabilities approach infinite. Whether or not they reach infinite, we cannot say, because the differential equations used at this point are unsolvable. Indeed, there are many, many unsolvable differential equations in the world, but we will approach that later. What he will not know is why these equations approach infinite. He will assume that it is due to the indeterminate vectors associated with the equation, and that given the impossible opportunity to directly measure them, the equation will take a much more finite form. The truth lies in the fact that we cannot solve them (well, we can solve them, but we cannot solve them finitely) is because we are unsure if they even exist. In this respect, they actually quite resemble the dilemma of proving the existence of a deity. Entities such as black holes, by their very nature, cannot be measured. We derive their existence by the behavior of bodies around them. Just as we derive our own existence by the behavior of bodies around us. Similarly, on the mathematical front, difficulties in predicting our universe as trivial as the n-body problem (predicting the interaction between 3 or more free-floating objects) expose some real holes in what science is able to tell us.
c) If he is an actual theoretical physicist, he will circumvent this by saying that the String Theory neatly tidies up all the loose ends. He will go on and on about how our limited perception of the universe constricts our thought and our ability to measure virtually anything. He will be very convincing. Ask him, then, to physically - not mathematically - prove any tenant of the String Theory. Ask him to use it to predict the motion of a body, even something so simple as an iron block sliding along a frictionless surface. He will say it takes too long; ask him to write out the first few lines. He will be unable to do so. You see, the String Theory is rather circular in its assumptions, it says that things happen because it says they will happen, the equations have variables that cannot be substituted for any real value, eventually resulting in answers that say, yes, if I push this block, it will have a velocity. I cannot measure it, though, for I do not have every circumstance in which it was pushed, and very likely never will. Portions of the theory are added and subtracted as new problems arise and are solved.
d) Ask him, then, how this differs from religion.
The point of this was not to bash science (as I am a scientist, only one that actually does things, rather than just look at them). The point was to illustrate that neither science nor religion can prove everything, and that both are based on a utterly unprovable concept: we exist. We perceive things similarly. Who says that when I see a picture of a blue circle and I say, "I see a blue circle," you construct an image in your mind that mirrors what I see? Perhaps I say it is blue because I was told it is blue, that what I actually see as blue, you perceive as red. But regardless of the actual color of the circle - maybe it's green - we both believe it is blue. Any research into the realm of synesthesia - the blending of senses - is forced to address this topic. Similarly, we must trust that we are both discussing the same object, the same concept. In this manner, proving anything becomes rather difficult.