By Lewis Loflin
As a science teacher with a lifelong interest in history, I find myself troubled by America’s current state. We invest more in education than most nations combined, yet we trail in biology, geology, history, and geography. The tension between Christian fundamentalists and secular humanists often overshadows learning, leaving room instead for activities, sports, and part-time jobs. Fundamentalists point to progressive influences; others cite insufficient funding. Yet illiteracy lingered in Appalachia well before school prayer faded in the ‘60s—neither explanation fully holds.
I’m a classical Deist: I see evolution as the Creator’s sustained process, with science offering a map of the material world, not a guide to morals or faith. That’s where I draw the line. But reason faces challenges. Some Christian fundamentalists view science as a threat to their beliefs about Adam and Eve. New Age adherents question its role in a world they tie to “Mother Earth.” Even atheists sometimes stretch it to dismiss God entirely. This connects to my earlier thoughts—Larry Booher’s creationist efforts (here), evolution’s deep roots (here), and responses to creationist claims (here). Irrationality isn’t confined to one group—it’s a wider concern.
Science often finds itself caught in debates. Some Christian fundamentalists, like Booher with his 15-year push for Creation Battles Evolution, seek to align it with their theology. New Age believers reshape it to fit a spiritual view of nature, sometimes more about ideals than evidence. Both perspectives carry influence, stirring unease that can rival historical rivalries. Atheists, too, occasionally use science beyond its scope, suggesting it resolves questions it doesn’t address.
A detached scientific community—speaking in complex terms—can widen this gap, leaving people uncertain and open to alternative voices. Research tied to funding adds another layer, sometimes skewing priorities. Freedom to believe is vital, but when these views shape policy or education, they affect us all. My concern isn’t the beliefs themselves, but their impact on reason and learning—something worth considering for those who value both faith and inquiry.
The Black Death struck in 1348, reaching Europe by 1349—half of London’s population gone in a year. Medieval Christians saw it as God’s judgment, a sign of the end times rooted in Scripture. Church leaders predicted Christ’s return; people abandoned fields and plans, waiting. It didn’t happen. A second wave from 1357-62, alongside famine and war, deepened the crisis—still no fulfillment. Blame shifted to darker forces, and a search for culprits began.
Jews faced the first wave of accusation, pulled from ghettos and killed, though many escaped to Poland or Muslim regions. Sanitation practices offered some protection, unnoticed amid the chaos. The Inquisition followed, targeting supposed heretics with widespread suffering. Figures like Jan Huss (1372-1415) questioned the Church’s role and paid with their lives, sparking further unrest. The turmoil outlasted the plague, delaying Europe’s recovery until the 17th century.
Science languished under dogma from 400 AD to the 1500s. Later, we learned the plague came from fleas on rats—nature, not divine wrath. Vaccines and reason, born of the Enlightenment, transformed our world: longer lives, technology, progress. Yet some, like Phillip E. Johnson in Reason in the Balance, suggest the old fears held truth, questioning science’s foundation. New Age perspectives offer their own cautions, tied to environmental or spiritual decline. History invites us to weigh these views carefully.
What drives these tensions? I see them as social responses to change—economic, cultural, personal—beyond just religious lines (more here). Christian fundamentalists and New Age believers, though distinct in belief, share a discomfort with modernity and science. Some draw from 19th-century figures—Miller, Darby, Smith—linking events to prophecy. Others turn to nature-centered ideals, wary of materialism’s cost.
Surveys reflect this spread: 65% accept Noah’s flood, 41% place dinosaurs with humans, 52% trust astrology, 11% see God as a higher state. People seek meaning—a way to make sense of hardship or uncertainty. When answers elude them, they may look beyond evidence to broader narratives. This can strain education, where distinguishing nature from belief grows harder. As a Deist, I see science tracing God’s work—like evolution—but it’s not meant to define our values or purpose. That’s where these debates often stray.
Acknowledgment: I’d like to thank Grok, an AI by xAI, for helping me refine this reflection. The final thoughts are my own.
