Afraid of Freedom?

Virginia Stem Owens' otherwise good review of Dava Sobel's book, Galileo's Daughter ["Galileo Had a Daughter," May/June] was marred by her conclusion: "Galileo was right to trust his senses, and that reliance changed our view of the universe irretrievably. But we have learned that scientific experts do, in fact, need judges over them, and that the necessary qualification for that position goes beyond even scientific competence."

However charmingly she has worded it, and however she cares to justify her position by talking about her fears of nuclear energy and genetic engineering, fundamentally her mentality is precisely the same as that of those who condemned Galileo in the Inquisition. And I find that inexcusable. Tell me please, that she doesn't mean what it sounds like she's saying: the truth is a fearful thing that, when released, will destroy the moral fabric of society. Worse, don't tell me that she believes that scientific research needs to be policed. Totalitarian mind control and a lack of academic freedom may have been de rigueur at the end of the Middle Ages, but does she seriously believe that such censorship is a good thing? Tell you what, next time she writes a novel or poem, how about she submit it to judges who will decide whether or not what she has produced will be safe for our society. If she finds such an idea unacceptable, then perhaps she'll understand that scientists, like any creative people, should not be constrained, either. I suppose she'll say that scientific discoveries can have horrible and unforeseen repercussions; of course, those who censor books and poems say the same thing. How about we just prosecute people when they do something morally reprehensible, rather than oppressing creativity because of the fear that it might lead to something that needs prosecuting?

I'd like to point something out that may have escaped her notice. God thinks that human freedom is more important than human goodness. A shocking statement? Perhaps, but it is the truth. Otherwise, why did God give Adam and Eve the freedom to make the wrong choice? If their moral purity were the greatest good, then he sure screwed up, didn't he? I would argue that freedom is a greater good than morality. All of human history and the death of his Son is a price God was willing to pay for the sake of freedom.

It annoys me how many Christians, past and present, have been frightened both by the pursuit of truth and by freedom. Of all people, we should know better.

R. P. Nettelhorst
Quartz Hill School of Theology
Quartz Hill, Calif.

Anti–Semitism at the Roots of Christianity

One can appreciate Lauren Winner's review of Miri Rubin's Gentile Tales: The Narrative Assault on Late Medieval Jews [May/June] and still regret that in the process James Carroll's important new book Constantine's Sword: The Church and the Jews is treated so dismissively in two opening paragraphs.

Although Carroll is said to be "persuasive" in his presentation of a history that is "deeply troubling and twisted," everything else about the book is deemed persuasive only to those Christians who "have already all but checked out of the faith." Winner recommends Rubin's book "for Christians who agree with Carroll that 'the story could have gone in a way more consonant with the message of Jesus,' while yet hoping, contra Carroll, to learn from the past without giving up their faith in the process."

"Contra Carroll"? Of the many passages throughout the book that could be offered in support of Carroll's serious Christian commitment, I will quote only this from a section on the resurrection: "His presence was real. On this claim rests the entire structure of Christian religion, and I, for one, recognize it as an unwilled claim on my own experience. The writing of this book is a response to the undefined, unseen, continuing presence in my life of Jesus Christ." Hardly the words of one who has given up the faith. True, Carroll calls into question a certain orthodox interpretation of Christ's death and traces its deleterious effects, but those are issues to be debated on their merits.

Near the end of the review, Winner quotes Rubin approvingly when she draws this historical lesson from her study: Because "violent, intolerant language" can lead to violent action, we must pay attention "at the inception of narratives of exclusion, not only at their end" (italics hers).

And so we must. James Carroll would undoubtedly agree, but would insist that we project our attention all the way back through the deeply troubled history of the Church and the Jews to its inception, the fountainhead of the centuries of anti–Semitism that followed–the harsh condemnation of the Jews ascribed to Jesus by the embattled late first–century church–words which arguably Jesus never said.