Where religion and science intersect: a sermon
Greetings all,
At the request of Dr. Benjason Mirones, I have decided to blog a sermon I gave at my Abbey a couple of weeks ago:
“Sermon to the Augustinian Abbey of St. Thomas Brno, 2008”
Gregor Mendel
My sons, my daughters, it is with great pride that I stand before you today. As the sun stretches its light limbs across the Austrian Empire, another day emerges. Another day that we should thank His holiness for the blessings we have received, for the happiness we will receive. I have been asked to speak on the role of religion in genetics, a field with which I am quite familiar. I do not wish to put any impure thoughts in your mind as I speak today, this is not a diatribe. Rather, I want to talk about the struggle that I have felt as not only a monk, but as a geneticist. My entire life, my findings were never taken seriously. This was largely because I was not only a monk, but because my experiments required a mental level that many theologians had failed to grasp.
I remember my schooling as a young adult, at a philosophical institute branching from Olmatz University. I did not take any classes in history or the natural sciences; they did not interest me. I never knew I would be putting together binomial equations in the coming years. I remember sitting in my lofted bed as a young boy, reading the small paperback novels that were sold at the candy shop. I pictured myself as an adventurer, a swashbuckler of the seas. I had no idea that I would be finalizing the particulars of how a material particle resting upon a chromosome would determine the transmission of varying hereditary attributes! But, my friends, I was preparing myself. I was preparing myself and I didn’t even know it. A few moments ago I told you that my studies were not accepted and widely read for two different reasons. The first was that I am a monk. As a man of the Book, no one thought I could possibly make advancements in a field dominated by the secular. But I did! I proved them wrong again and again. When they said that my experiments on Pisum sativum were not enough to completely qualify my argument, I moved onto the Phasoleus vulgaris. As I said in my paper of 1865, these tests gave results in perfect agreement. I had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that my findings and experiments were correct. And what did I receive? Nothing. It took 22 years after my first death for my papers to be dug up. Pushed to the back of the intellectual cabinet, my studies were regarded as merely posh, religious encirclements. Now, my friends, this may make it seem obvious why my work wasn’t accepted. But certainly, someone out there must have read it whom might have understood. Perhaps a Roman Catholic with an eye for the biological, perhaps he could have read my papers and come forth in support. Yet it never happened.
The main reason that my studies were never accepted is because they required a different level of thought that many scientists of the era had. I was discussing an area that had been unheard of up until that point. Points of debate surrounding my new laws of development were very rare. It was merely the fact that my secular colleagues did not have the theological minds to tackle my theory. Because of my expansive knowledge of God’s way and because of my years in the seminary, I was able to understand differentiating characteristics in plants. My schooling in fields of literature taught me how to step outside myself. I recognize the power of God, and the strength with which he holds me up. Because of the countless Bible passages I have read, the pieces of literature I have shelved, I was able to think critically about something many couldn’t.
Literature serves the purpose of teaching us to deal with problems that we wouldn’t normally deal with in the real world. By reading about fantastical problems that might never occur to me on my strolls through the garden, I was able to think about life outside the garden. I had reached the apex of creative and critical thinking when I made my discoveries. I had combined everything I thought could exist and everything I knew did exist, and they met in perfect harmony. Without religion in my life, I certainly wouldn’t be where I am today.
-Gregor
therealdarwin said,
April 18, 2008 at 7:26 pm
Rev. Mendel:
Quite an interesting sermon, I wish I could have been there. How is Brno this time of year? I have heard wonderful things. I have only been to Brno once in my life, and that was on a visit to the zoological gardens. That zoo alone contains over 179 different species. The varying types of birds are some that can only be found around Monk’s Mountain, a location very close to the gardens. Forgive me, my digression in this comment is unnecessary.
I have always believed in the importance of the interdisciplinary. You are quite correct in your evaluation of the theological and scientific. I’m not merely a naturalist; I consider myself a geologist and writer as well. I find it quite helpful in my endless critical analysis of varying species to be able to draw from various fields of study. Maybe there shouldn’t be single majors in universities across the country. Maybe everything should be interdisciplinary. What do you all think of this concept?
C. Darwin
callmestephanides said,
April 21, 2008 at 1:58 am
Rev. Mendel:
I was a bit disappointed after I read through your blog. I expected you to talk more about WHAT the role of religion in genetics actually is. All you talk about is how they can cohesively work together. I do not doubt this; if you combined the right elements of each you are sure for morally and scientifically correct answers. But my question to you, dear Mendel, is how can you strike that balance? How did you find it within yourself to be able to find that perfect harmony that led you to success. I know from personal experience that a combination of two very different things can be very hard to deal with and yield disastrous results. How did you acquire such training to find this commonality? Was it mere blind luck?
-Cal
revmendel said,
April 21, 2008 at 2:21 am
Cal:
I am not sure how to explain how I arrived at the “commonality” that you described. I would say that it was a combination of a number of things. As interesting as it may sound, I think my ease in combining such diverse fields came through my initial separation of them. Because I studied the respective fields completely independently of another, they could never influence each other. Essentially, I kept the blue and yellow paint in different buckets, and when someone told me to make green I was lucky enough to have two brushes. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but I never had one directly influence the other. I never read a scripture and wondered if a fantastical act of God was scientifically possible. I knew what parts of the bible should be taken literally, which shouldn’t. I find it hard to explain how I achieved such a balance. I guess I could call it luck, but I think someone might have discovered hereditary theory before me if that was the case.
GM
nmajoras said,
April 21, 2008 at 2:10 pm
Rev. Mendel,
Don’t give up hope! One day I picture students of science of all ages learning about your pea plants and their round seeds vs. wrinkled, yellow pods vs. green pods, and even short plants vs. tall plants. They will be frustrated at first trying to learn this new and different way of thinking but it is all very mathematic, isn’t it? Your 3:1 and 9:3:3:1 ratios will become commonplace. I can imagine entire classes being given on genetics and inheritance. Maybe knowledge of laws of inheritance will be mandated before students matriculate into medical school. I’m sure that those Catholic school Sisters will soon be rapping their students over the knuckles when students can’t understand recessive versus dominant traits. Ha ha ha, hey, you never know!
Keep up the good work!
Nikki
Jay Clayton said,
May 1, 2008 at 6:50 pm
I’m with Nikki. Keep it up. But one question: When did you make contact with that English evolutionary theorist, Charles Darwin? Since it turns out that you two are acquainted, it is funny that he didn’t use your work to fill the greatest gap in his theory of evolution, namely how inheritance of characteristics actually occurs. Wonder what kept him from revising his work to take account of your magnificent experiments?