Christian Psychology
46
longer to count, and we are asked to be equally recep-
tive to any and all speculative suggestions.
Granted, science is an ongoing enterprise. We do
not yet have a unified field theory, and gravity is the
anomalous field. But today’s science does not claim
ever to have the definitive, final, and complete truth.
Early modern science did entertain that claim, and with
outdated notions Reber and Slife (this issue) would
hold science to that passé thinking—“logical positivism”
(p. 16.2), now unanimously and completely discredited
(Goldman, 2006; Kasser, 2006), and a “doctrine of ob-
servability, that only the observable is knowable” (Reber
& Slife, this issue, p. 13.2; also pp. 7.2, 13.2-14.1), on
which these theorists harp. But along with gravity and
magnetism, quarks and leptons simply cannot be seen.
They are the conclusions of argument—meanings, not
palpable “objects” (pp. 11.1-2, 12.2, 13.2-14.1, 15.1)
or “bodies” (Lonergan, 1957/1992, pp. 275-27)—that
must be affirmed to reasonably account for the available
evidence. Moreover, no psychological phenomena are
observable in themselves, and psychology exists. In
every case of claimed knowledge, the rule of evidence
does hold sway—but not necessarily a rule of sensate
observation. Evidence comes in many kinds—Loner-
gan’s (1957/1992) “data of consciousness” in addition to
the “data of the senses” (p. 299; also pp. 95, 260, 358;
1972, pp. 8-9, 201-202; see also James, 1902/1961,
pp. 59-63) and the constraints of logical argument, for
example. The theistic psychologists seem oblivious to
these century-old developments.
Science is into its second life. Aware of the inherent
limitations of inductive method, twentieth-century
science never claims to
prove
anything. Rather, it ac-
cumulates evidence to confirm hypotheses as increas-
ingly probable. But despite the stunning “track record
of knowledge advancement” (Reber & Slife, this issue,
p. 17.1) by modern science, the theistic psychologists
reject “naturalistic” principles because they are “un
prov-
en
” (p. 13.2, emphasis added). Yes, but they are hardly
“untested” (p. 14.1)!
What we know as “gravity” and its regularities—
even as we refine our understanding of it—is not likely
to fall out of the human picture. If the theistic psychol-
ogists find this fact an imposition on their “worldview,”
we must be free to wonder what seeming defensiveness
drives their agenda and what they actually believe about
God, miracles, or anything else.
The Singularity of Miracles versus the Generality of Science
In the second place, given its essence—belief in routine,
miraculous, divine interventions—“strong theism” is by
definition incompatible with science of whatever kind.
By the axiom, inherent in human intelligence, that sim-
ilars are similarly understood (Lonergan, 1957/1992,
pp. 61-62, 312-314), science seeks understanding
that applies across individual instances. Thus, science
discerns and formulates consistencies, regularities,
laws. Explicitly and by definition, it does not pertain in
the case of singular realities or events. But by defini-
tion, miracles are such unique occurrences. Therefore,
they fall outside the realm of scientific explanation, a
particular kind of intellectual endeavor, and the theistic
psychologists’ insistence on God’s unlawful involvement
in the universe absolutely and definitively precludes any
reconciliation of this notion of theism with science.
Even if God routinely and regularly performs
miracles, unique and extraordinary occurrences; as
singular, they could not be regularized, not even by
a supposed science open to the study of miracles. At
best, they could be catalogued and their frequency,
tallied. If, however, the miracles came so routinely and
consistently as to constitute some pattern, then they
could be regularized, discerned in some way as lawful.
But in this case they would no longer be categorized
as miracles, and these occurrences would also become
quite amenable to human explanation or science. They
would entail patterns of some peculiar kind of phe-
nomenon—such as the birth of new stars, the evolution
of new species, the synthesis of new plastics. In these
cases the “miracles” would be making a discernible but
consistent difference in our world and would, perforce,
become the subject matter of standard science.
Is there another alternative? Should we, perhaps,
realize that everything about us is “miraculous,” the
marvelous gift of God, which it surely is? Well, the
three-faceted doctrine of creation already covers this
case and leads believers to praise God for the wonder
of our world. But if all is miracle, what meaning does
the word retain? And what term should we then use
to name those possibly extraordinary occurrences that
do fall outside the consistencies of nature? In calling
everything miraculous—in common enough, but overly
enthusiastic, uncritical piety—would we not be writing
off genuine miracles and, thus, actually impoverish-
ing our understanding of God’s power? Or in calling
nothing miraculous but, rather, calling every historical
occurrence a direct and particularistic manipulation by
God (supernaturalism), would we not—in the face of
divine whim, or call it “providence”—be writing off the
possibility of any understanding of things and, thus,
actually deeming human intelligence unreliable and use-
less? Obviously and once again, at stake here is a badly
conceived either-or case of faith versus reason. I repeat,
this case allows no reconciliation.
What is the theistic psychologists’ understanding
of
miracle
or God’s difference-making involvement?
What is the intended difference? They do not refer to
occasional miracles—scientifically, usually medically,
inexplicable occurrences—such as those that Roman
Catholicism still requires for the canonization of a
saint. Instead, they repeatedly refer to some never
specified but seemingly secular knowledge that religion
and “strong theism” produce (e.g., Reber & Slife, this
issue, pp. 8.1, 16.1-2, 17.1)—perhaps the pathologi-
