Chapter 1: The Foundations of Wonder

For many years, I have drawn inspiration from Generative Anthropology, initially engaging with the work of René Girard during my doctoral studies and later incorporating the significant insights of Eric Gans into my own research. My French heritage has no bearing on this interest, I assure you.

Dr. Gans motivated me to contribute an article to Anthropoetics, focusing on how theologians and anthropologists could mutually benefit from one another’s insights. I wish to expand upon these thoughts by clarifying certain commonly used terms that carry special significance for theologians: faith, belief, hypothesis, and knowledge. I venture to suggest that providing precise definitions of these concepts could benefit scientists in particular.

Before delving deeper, let's remember that both science and theology arise from the same source: the experience of wonder. This experience, in its purest sense, precedes investigation, introspection, comprehension, and definition. Reflect for a moment on the motivations that led you to become a scientist or pursue your current path. Something must have sparked a sense of wonder—an attraction to something that urged you to explore what it means to be human.

This shared experience of wonder is what connects theologians and scientists. While it may seem that theologians focus solely on the divine, the very term “theology” translates to the study of God. Yet, every language has its own term for "god," meaning theology fundamentally begins with an exploration of humanity. There is no alternate route to the divine—if such a route exists at all.

Physicists, biologists, and neuroscientists all embark on their journeys sparked by moments of wonder. However, the particular wonder that theologians and anthropologists share revolves around humanity's extraordinary nature. This sense of wonder is partly what Canadian economist, philosopher, and theologian Bernard Lonergan described as "the eros of the human spirit." He articulated this concept in two ways:

1. Initial Thrust: "To know the good, it must know the real; to know the real, it must know the true; to know the true, it must know the intelligible; to know the intelligible, it must know the data."
2. Tidal Movement: "[the eros of the human spirit is] a tidal movement that begins before consciousness, unfolds through sensitivity, intelligence, rational reflection, responsible deliberation, only to find its rest beyond all of these."

Let's illustrate this with an example. Picture an astronomer analyzing photographic plates taken by her telescope during a session. A particular object catches her attention, perhaps indicating movement between two images. This initial focus prompts an "aha!" moment, leading her to formulate questions and develop a hypothesis. She then seeks to validate her hypothesis, pondering what to do if she has indeed made a significant discovery.

Returning to the concept of focus, it’s essential to note that this attention is not entirely instinctive; the astronomer has extensive training and experience. However, she may not be consciously aware of this focus at the moment. Yet, she will later recount what drew her attention and how she interrogated the data: a conscious action leads to another, and so forth.

Each stage—sensitivity, intelligence, rational reflection, and responsible deliberation—forms part of a common process that scientists, including our hypothetical astronomer, undergo. This sequence not only defines the scientific method but also encapsulates what occurs whenever a human seeks to understand. Almost all of us have some experience of perceiving, imagining, and feeling—elements that drive our intellectual curiosity and desire for comprehension.

Few would begin writing an article by disclaiming that they have never engaged in critical reflection or questioned the truth of a statement. How many authors admit to a complete lack of understanding of responsibility or have never acted with accountability in their writing?

I initially promised clarity around the terms faith, belief, hypothesis, and knowledge, and I am working towards that. Faith and belief are integral components of human cognition. To reiterate, we attain knowledge by being attentive, asking pertinent questions, answering them as best as we can, and accepting the implications of our discoveries. When we ascertain something as likely true, we enrich our own knowledge base, and potentially, that of humanity as a whole.

The term "probably" is critical here. Humans often struggle with probability. I recently perused a book on poker, The Biggest Bluff by Maria Konnikova. Although poker does not interest me, I spent part of my youth working in a gambling establishment and witnessed firsthand the impact of gambling addiction. I sought to understand the role of probability in poker, which John von Neumann characterized as the most human of chance games. Unlike roulette, where outcomes are purely random, poker involves psychological elements. Konnikova aimed to reach a championship level within a year, and her narrative illustrates that to succeed in poker, one must play according to what they believe other players think the odds are. The probabilities of poker, like other chance games, are fixed; it is our beliefs that render the game intriguing. As Konnikova asserts, "We need to train ourselves to see the world in a probabilistic light—and even then, we often ignore the numbers in favor of our own experience."

Why do we do this? The answer lies in belief. We are driven by desire, not wisdom. Belief is what we perceive as true—it is a conceptual framework we develop throughout our lives. Some beliefs are undoubtedly true, many are likely true, and others are false. Since we begin forming beliefs from infancy, we are often unaware of many of them. Yet, they are essential for our functioning.

Returning to the astronomer reviewing her night sky photographs, the contrast between two images ignites her curiosity. Her brain anticipates experiences through interconnected neuronal pathways, constantly predicting what we will encounter. This dissonance between expectation and reality often triggers curiosity, a process largely governed by what is referred to as "the adaptive unconscious."

While the adaptive unconscious plays a key role initially, imagination marks the first step away from animalistic consciousness towards what we consider human rationality. Imagination is awakened when the desire to know is ignited, and belief guides this process. Too often, we settle into beliefs without questioning them. As Konnikova points out, "we ignore the numbers in favor of our own experience." Being an effective astronomer, anthropologist, or theologian requires continuous awareness that our imaginings do not equate to knowledge. We must recognize that our beliefs are, at best, probable and maintain a willingness to test them when necessary.

A critically examined belief transforms into a hypothesis. Testing it is crucial, though there are circumstances that might inhibit this. Exploring a hypothesis can lead to complications, especially in oppressive environments like North Korea, or when it contradicts widely accepted beliefs, risking backlash from those in authority. This often happens to theologians, it seems.

Testing a hypothesis involves determining its truthfulness—true, false, or indeterminate. Truth emerges when every conceivable question regarding the hypothesis has been raised and answered correctly. What is deemed true is concrete and real; what is false gets dismissed. If there is no definitive judgment, one must return to the drawing board. Ultimately, we can only assert that a hypothesis is "probably" true, with the most discerning minds attempting to assign it a numerical probability—though likely not 2.86%.

Much of what we consider knowledge stems from our beliefs. John Henry Newman stated he understood what Great Britain looks like because he trusted the mapmakers—essentially, he had faith in their work. Faith, in this context, is the confidence we place in our beliefs. A hallmark of faith is not just confidence but also doubt, indicating that the foundations of our confidence are always subject to scrutiny. Certainty arrives only when all questions have been resolved.

Thus, dear reader, both you and I rely on faith—the confidence we hold in our beliefs. Life offers few absolutes, perhaps just death and taxes. In contemporary discourse, people often categorize individuals as either faithful or not, religious or secular. However, religiousness does not necessitate a distinct form of faith.

The insightful English theologian Austin Farrer noted:

"The mysteries of faith must fit into one universe of sense with our natural knowledge of human personality, of history, of the form of nature, of the first principles of being: if they did not, they would not continue to be believed. The judgment upon which faith is based is an estimation like that used in other fields. Faith leaps beyond it, but that happens too in common life; our faith in the goodwill of a friend goes beyond and leaves behind any weighing of the evidence for it, and becomes a rooted axiom of living. In the case of the friend, such an axiom may be rooted, but not ineradicable: our friend may disappoint us."

In both your case and mine, faith instills confidence in our beliefs. Faith is primarily an emotional experience; belief is a concept supported by that confidence. In specific contexts, a belief may evolve into a hypothesis that, when tested, could ultimately become knowledge. Finally, knowledge is not truly knowledge if it remains unshared; it must be communicated for it to be indirectly verified repeatedly.

I conclude by emphasizing the value of defining these terms, which are often used carelessly. I propose that the yearning to understand something marks the beginning of a universally shared human experience—the eros of the human spirit. Faith and belief are crucial elements in our quest for knowledge, and they also explain why we sometimes miss the mark, alongside inattention, irrationality, and irresponsibility.

In theology, conflating belief with certainty fosters fundamentalism, which is a root cause of religious violence due to its exclusionary nature: "we're right, you're wrong." In science, equating belief with certainty leads to scientism, a parallel to religious fundamentalism. We must acknowledge the probabilistic essence of our faith, beliefs, and knowledge. Embracing doubt as a means to refine and strengthen faith is vital for clear thinking and the accumulation of knowledge across all domains.

Perhaps I should explore the world of poker after all?

Chapter 2: The Divided Brain and the Sense of the Sacred

The first video delves into how our brain's structure influences our understanding of the sacred, featuring insights from Dr. Iain McGilchrist.

Chapter 3: The Missing Link in Addiction

The second video discusses the connection between a divided brain and addiction, emphasizing the importance of understanding this relationship in today's world.