Or let us say you conclude that it is by looking at a clock in a store window; it turns out that you are correct, but only coincidentally : in actuality, the clock is not working!
The belief that it is in this case does not count as knowledge either. Indeed, no one but God could live up to it! One major reason for that is this: you cannot know with percent certainty that knowledge requires percent certainty. Furthermore, we can truly know lots of things that do not rise to this level of absolute confidence. For example, you know that a world independent of your mind exists—even though it is logically possible it is just an illusion— maya , as the Advaita Vedanta Hindu would call it.
Does this mean you cannot really know that the external world exists? The fact is, we know a lot of things with confidence, even if not with complete certainty. Indeed, there would be precious little we could know if we followed that demanding standard.
The believer can have plenty of good reasons for belief in God—even if not absolute, mathematically certain ones. For example, we are aware of the existence of consciousness, free will or a presumed personal responsibility, personhood, rationality, duties, and human value—not to mention the beginning, fine-tuning, and beauties of the universe.
These are hardly surprising if a good, personal, conscious, rational, creative, powerful, and wise God exists. However, these phenomena are quite startling or shocking if they are the result of deterministic, valueless, non-conscious, unguided, non-rational material processes.
We have every reason to think a naturalistic world would not yield these phenomena—though not so with theism—and many naturalists themselves register surprise and even astonishment that such features should appear in a materialistic, deterministic universe. A number of years ago, I was speaking at an open forum at Worcester Polytechnic Institute Massachusetts.
This brings us to our second set of terms to clarify— theism, atheism, and agnosticism —and we should also tackle the question of who bears the burden of proof in the face of these conflicting views.
No doubt about it, the theist makes a truth claim in asserting that God exists —a maximally great, worship-worthy being. So the theist, who makes a claim to know something , should bear a burden of proof. How is this belief justified? But does this mean that the atheist and agnostic are not making a claim?
This would be an incorrect assumption. Let us consider the atheist for a moment. Michael Scriven, a self-proclaimed atheist philosopher, has actually mislabeled himself.
The first is that he has incorrectly defined atheism. Both bear the burden of proof since both make claims. So what is the difference? The agnostic does not know whether God exists or not. Why not take the opposite tack of Scriven here? We could add that if both the atheist and the agnostic hold that evidence for God is lacking, how does Scriven distinguish between these two positions?
According to his proposal, agnosticism would turn out to be identical to atheism. It would be no help to us at all in our human predicament if God were silent, but happily this is not the case. God not only exists, but also He has communicated that fact to us. He has told us all about who He is, what He is like, and what His plan is for planet Earth.
He has revealed these things to mankind through the Bible. The Bible has demonstrated itself to be more than a mere book; it is the actual Word of God. The evidence is more than convincing to anyone who will honestly consider its claims.
Because of the boasts the Bible makes for itself, many have tried to destroy it, as related in this statement by Martin Luther:. Who has thus helped it — who has protected it against such mighty forces? Even the French skeptic Rousseau saw something different in the Scriptures.
The Bible, therefore, gives us sufficient reason to believe that it is the Word of the living God, who does exist and who has revealed Himself to the world. Real right and wrong cannot come from either a purely material universe or from impersonal spiritual forces. So the argument goes like this: A Right and wrong are real, B Real right and wrong require the existence of a god, and C Therefore, a God exists. Apart from the existence of a perfect personal God, right and wrong cannot be consistently affirmed as real and meaningful.
This is another clue. There is an undeniable beauty in self-giving, sacrificial love. At the very heart of the human experience is the desire to love and be loved. More than our desire to explain the world, even more than upholding right and wrong, what defines us is our desire to love and to be loved in relationship.
Not just sentimental, sappy love but a particular kind of love is what we all crave to give and receive — one that is self-giving, sacrificial, and unconditional. How come all the physical laws and parameters in the universe happen to have the values that allowed stars, planets and ultimately life to develop?
Some argue it's just a lucky coincidence. Others say we shouldn't be surprised to see biofriendly physical laws — they after all produced us, so what else would we see? Some theists, however, argue it points to the existence of a God creating favourable conditions. But God isn't a valid scientific explanation. The theory of the multiverse, instead, solves the mystery because it allows different universes to have different physical laws.
So, it's not surprising that we should happen to see ourselves in one of the few universes that could support life. Of course, you can't disprove the idea that a God may have created the multiverse. This is all very hypothetical, and one of the biggest criticisms of theories of the multiverse is that because there seem to have been no interactions between our Universe and other universes, then the notion of the multiverse cannot be directly tested.
Now let's consider whether God can be in more than one place at the same time. Much of the science and technology we use in space science is based on the counter-intuitive theory of the tiny world of atoms and particles known as quantum mechanics. The theory enables something called quantum entanglement : spookily connected particles.
If two particles are entangled, you automatically manipulate its partner when you manipulate it, even if they are very far apart and without the two interacting. There are better descriptions of entanglement than the one I give here — but this is simple enough that I can follow it. Imagine a particle that decays into two sub-particles, A and B. The properties of the sub-particles must add up to the properties of the original particle — this is the principle of conservation.
For example, all particles have a quantum property called "spin" — roughly, they move as if they were tiny compass needles. According to quantum mechanics, particles are by definition in a mix of different states until you actually measure them. The properties of A and B are not independent of each other — they are entangled — even if located in separate laboratories on separate planets.
If you measure the spin of A and you find it to be positive, then imagine a friend measured the spin of B at exactly the same time that you measured A. In order for the principle of conservation to work, she must find the spin of B to be negative. But — and this is where things become murky — like sub-particle A, B had a chance of being positive, so its spin state "became" negative at the time that the spin state of A was measured as positive.
In other words, information about spin state was transferred between the two sub-particles instantly. Such transfer of quantum information apparently happens faster than the speed of light. Given that Einstein himself described quantum entanglement as "spooky action at a distance", I think all of us can be forgiven for finding this a rather bizarre effect. So, there is something faster than the speed of light after all: quantum information.
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