James Watson, co-discoverer of the spiral ladder of the double
helix of our DNA plus the founding head of the Human Genome
Project, had little time for religion. Indeed, he and his fellow
helix discoverer Francis Crick seized the opportunity of the 50th
anniversary celebration of their historic discovery to dump on
religion. Watson told the media that he stopped attending Mass at
the onset of World War II, because "I came to the conclusion that
the church was just a bunch of fascists that supported Franco."
Besides, he opined, "Every time you understand something, religion
becomes less likely." (Telegraph, March 22, 2003)
In 1992, Watson left that post because of concerns over
commercialization of the human genome. He was succeeded by American
medic Francis Collins. Collins reversed Watson's religious
trajectory. He started as an agnostic, but became a Christian. And
he has now written The Language of God (Free Press, 2006),
explaining how that happened.
Collins' parents were well-educated, but somehow, after World War
II, they ended up living frugally on a farm in the Shenandoah
Valley of Virginia. Life was creative and fun there, but he
remembers, "faith was not an important part of my childhood."
He found much to support his agnosticism in university, especially
because he probably wasn't much interested in what must have seemed
purely philosophical questions at the time. But then he entered
medicine. Of course, in medicine, life, death, and suffering were
shoved in his face daily. Like any intelligent person, he had to
ask, "What do I really believe?"
Asa medical student, he tended patients who were strong Christians,
and he recalls, "I witnessed numerous cases of individuals whose
faith provided them with a strong reassurance of ultimate peace, be
it in this world or the next, despite terrible suffering that in
most instances they had done nothing to bring on themselves."
Then, a dying old woman asked him the deplorable question: What did
he, the doctor, believe-but he really did not know.
He thought he should try to find out what he believed, so he tried
reading Cliff's Notes on world religions. But that wasn't really
much use. It told him what a lot of people, living and dead, have
believed. But he had already seen living examples. A local
Methodist minister suggested he read C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity.
Collins was not the first person to grasp the significance of
Lewis' account of the Moral Law: that sense we all have of right
and wrong, despite the fact that we often do the wrong rather than
the right. Collins determined that the Moral Law is a sign of God.
Eventually, he became a Christian, and one can hope that his faith
stood him in good stead amid the ferocious politics of a science
awaiting commercialization.
That Collins is in many ways an exemplary Christian cannot be
doubted. The January/February 2007 edition of the American
Scientific Affiliation' s newsletter is expected to provide an
account of his medical relief work in Nigeria, "Life and God in
West Africa."
And yet, his well-written account of his conversion is troubling.
Collins owes his conversion to C.S. Lewis, but he typifies the
petering out of Lewis' legacy. Too many people have relied on Lewis
and too few have followed in his path of rigorous argument.
For more, go here:
http://post-darwinist.blogspot.com/2006/11/part-two-does-it-matter-that-genome.html
(Does it matter that genome mapper Francis Collins became a
Christian?)