RIP Stephen Hawking

Today we had the AGM of our local MND Association and remembered Professor Stephen Hawking, the most famous man with Motor Neurone Disease and patron of the MNDA, who died this week. He’s widely considered one of our greatest scientists, the author of A Brief History of Time and the subject of the Oscar-winning The Theory of Everything. His MND was unique – or highly untypical – in that it lasted for 55 years rather than the average 14 months from diagnosis. He had a great dry sense of humour and an inextinguishable zest for life, despite the disease leaving him without a voice and without use of his limbs as it progressed. He claimed to have become a more convinced atheist over the years. Only once did I dare to disagree with him. In an interview in 2011 an interview with him was headlined, “Stephen Hawking: ‘There is no heaven; it’s a fairy story.’”  Which gives a beautiful picture which has circulated on social media by Australian artist, Mitchell Toy, particular poignancy.

The interview provoked me to suggest an alternative rational view, which was published in The Guardian, and as I recall attracted a quantity of hostile comment on line. I would like to think that my view and the vision of Mitchell Toy is nearer what Professor Hawking will experience than the bleakness of his own expectations.

Here is my article:

Like Stephen Hawking, I have been living with Motor Neurone Disease.  Like him, I’m one of the lucky few not to have died within months of diagnosis.  I’m nine years younger than him and have had the symptoms of the disease for only ten years, compared to his 49.  However for those ten years I’ve “lived with the prospect of an early death” also.  Unlike Professor Hawking I am not a superstar scientist.  I’m simply a small-time writer, who used to be a teacher and a vicar. 

It seems to me that, while some things Stephen Hawking says in the interview as it’s reported are unarguably true, some are also admitted hypothesis, and some are merely tendentious.  One of the features of MND both for him as for me is that it affects your ability to speak and hence pares down what you say to the bare bones. (That’s not of course the case when you have time to type a script.)  Hence sometimes you are frustrated by your inability to nuance your ideas.  And so it may be that his very categorical answers are the nub of his opinion, but not the full expression.

For example, there’s something of ‘nothing-buttery’ about his comments about death: “I regard the brain as a computer which will stop working when its components fail. There is no heaven or afterlife for broken down computers; that is a fairy story for people afraid of the dark.”  It’s unarguably true that there’s no heaven for broken down computers, as I have found to my cost when I poured fruit juice over my laptop.  The brain may be nothing but a most remarkable computer, yet there’s something generically different from a computer in a brain which, when it starts to malfunction as happens in MND, can begin to love Wagner’s music and “enjoy life more”.  That, I would say, is irrational, but not uncommon.  Human beings, it would appear, are something more than machines.  Maybe science will one day describe what the difference is.

Hawking tells us that “The universe is governed by science.”  I think I understand what he means.  It is certainly discoverable by science.  Scientific theories which don’t fit with the evidence of the universe fail.  In simple terms science is governed by the universe, not the other way round.  What’s interesting is that this is in effect what Hawking says talking about the beauty of science.  It’s “beautiful when it makes simple explanations of phenomena or connections between different observations”, citing the double helix and fundamental equations in physics as examples. 

I find myself admiring and agreeing with much of what Professor Hawking says, but I find his ethical deduction and his quasi-religious observation sadly lacking.  “So here we are.  What should we do?” he’s asked.  The question sounds similar to ones posed to great religious teachers of the past.  His answer is disappointing: “We should seek the greatest value of our action.”  It’s certainly thought-provoking (What exactly does that mean for this or that action?) and it is a principle which is reinforced by the experience of life-threatening illness.  One could say, “Don’t waste your life.”  Yet as a rule for life, it lacks both the impact and the practicality of the great Judaeo-Christian answer to that question, “Love God above yourself, and love your neighbour as yourself.”  Even those who are unwilling to subscribe to the first part can understand the second part and usually admit its validity.  It might conceivably be argued for on the Darwinian grounds, that those societies which have lived by altruistic principles have survived, but that very admission raises the question of the origin of that surprising pre-scientific insight.

Finally Stephen Hawking’s headlined observation about death, that an after-life “is a fairy-story for people afraid of the dark” is both sad and misinformed. His proposition that there is no heaven reminds one of Gagarin’s alleged dismissal of God because he did not see him in space.  Openness to the theoretical possibility of there being eleven dimensions and fundamental particles “as yet undiscovered” shows an intellectual humility strangely at odds with writing off the possibility of other dimensions of existence. 

For someone “facing the prospect of an early death”, with probably an unpleasant prelude, the idea of extinction holds no more fear than sleep.  It really is insulting to accuse me of believing there might be life after death because I’m afraid of the dark.  On the contrary, sad though I shall be to leave behind those I love, I suspect the end of life, whatever happens, will be a relief.  And, like Pascal making his wager, if it is dark, I really won’t mind, because, of course, there won’t be a me to mind.

Strangely enough, my theory that there is a form of life after we die is not some sort of wishful thinking.  It’s based on evidence.  If the brain is a computer, then, when I was studying where Stephen Hawking now teaches, I came on a mass of data of which the most convincing, the neatest, explanation was that death is not the end of life.  It wasn’t the most comfortable nor most obvious of conclusions, but the forensic case was forceful and beautiful, providing “simple explanations of phenomena or connections between different observations”.  The best exposition I found was by the then Director of the Institute of Advanced Legal Studies in London, Professor Sir Norman Anderson, in The Evidence for the Resurrection (afterwards republished as part of Jesus Christ the witness of history (IVP 1985)).  My disturbing conclusion was that, if it happened once, as seemed beyond reasonable doubt, then I needed to revise my whole world view.  What you see is not all you get.

One may wish to dismiss Jesus Christ, or Julius Caesar, as fairy stories, even as bunk, but, until one has examined the evidence in Anderson’s forensic manner, that’s a premature judgement.  I suspect many do that.  As for the idea that belief in an afterlife is a consolation, it is not just about heaven.  Most faiths in fact have a notion of judgement, which is hardly comfortable for anyone, although it does focus the motivation not to waste one’s life.  Moreover in our situation Professor Hawking surely knows better than that some notion in your head, whatever that notion might be, makes the frustrations and pains of a terminal illness somehow more bearable.  That’s the nonsense of those who’ve not been there.  I can’t prove it of course, but on good grounds I’d stake my life on it, that beyond death will be another great adventure; but first I have to get finish this one.

RIP Stephen Hawking.

Our two minutes of "fame"!

I must say happy though I am for the predictable recognition that Eddie Redmayne received on Sunday night for best actor at the Oscars - and the dedication he made to people with MND/ALS in his acceptance speech, I am disappointed that no recognition was afforded to Felicity Jones for best actress, portraying Jane Hawking. As I've commented previously his was a bravura performance of a bravura role. Her role was far from bravura and demanded a subtle contained performance, and that was exactly what she gave it: beautifully nuanced, tracing the patterns of shade and light in the highly condensed account of a relationship of more than forty years. I would have dedicated her Oscar to all the unheralded carers of us who have the disease in one form or another. As one of our friends whose wife had a frighteningly fast type of MND said to me after watching the film, "I thought it was brilliant but, oh, how painful it was to be reminded of that journey!"

On Sunday the BBC Songs of Praise team decided to base their programme round the Oscars. They interviewed Jane Hawking in Cambridge and filmed her singing in their church choir conducted by her present husband, Jonathan. She was great, very articulate and clear about her faith. Someone in the BBC had seen my previous post about the film, and thought that an interview with my Jane and me might fit in as an added extra. I suppose the parallels of my having MND like Stephen Hawking and our both having wives/carers named Jane worked nicely. So nine days previously, before we went on a short break, the film crew arrived with the presenter, Claire McCollum - loved her Ulster accent! - , and all their equipment. They certainly knew what they were up to. While Nick, the cameraman, Lindsey, the researcher, and Karen, the producer, worked away at setting up the equipment, removing the ticking clock (!), and arranging the shots, we relaxed and chatted to Claire. I suppose the actual filming took under an hour, mostly in one take - for which I was grateful as it's never easy to repeat exactly what you said (unless you're an actor, I suppose).

Anyway they soon packed up and zoomed back off to Media City in Salford, and next day we went off for a break in Devon. I put Songs of Praise on to record - of course. But we were actually able to watch it live, but it wasn't until half way through the programme that we were sure we'd appear. In what was a rather good programme over all, ours was, I think you might say, a cameo performance - being a minute or two long - but I must say I thought Karen had edited all my waffle very skilfully. As I've said elsewhere, there always things you wish you had added. When Claire asked me something about my strong faith sustaining me. My answer was something like, "I'm not so sure about it being 'strong'. Sometimes it feels I'm hanging on by a thread…". That's when I wish I'd said, "But I've discovered that God keeps holding on to me firmly."  However our bit ended positively with Jane talking about hope and then an upbeat contemporary worship song.

Afterwards it was fun following the Facebook comments which dribbled in that evening and the next day. One of the nicest comments, on Twitter, was from Claire McCollum herself:

"Feb 22: @mwenham you and Jane were just brilliant! So glad u enjoyed it. A pleasure to work on this one! Take care. Btw really enjoyjng ur book. C" (Which reminds me, you can get discounted copies of My Donkeybody by contacting me on michaeltwenham@gmail.com!) 

So I'm happy on this occasion both to compliment the BBC for a job well done and to congratulate the Songs of Praise department on a nicely crafted programme. And finally I must say how good the film crew were and of course how lovely Claire the interviewer was!

The Theory of Everything - a personal view

Jane and I don’t often get to the cinema these days, but thanks to the good offices of a friend we did get to watch The Theory of Everything last week.  It’s the film based on the memoir of Jane Hawking, wife of physicist Stephen Hawking, Travelling to Infinity (a revision of Music to Move the Stars), neither of which I have read – yet.  Clearly the reason I wanted to see it is because I have a similar sort of Motor Neurone Disease to the professor, although my survival won’t be as long as his since I was diagnosed in my early 50s. 

So what did I think of it?  Contrary to expectation, I did not break down in tears or howl – which is strange since it takes very little to trigger off outbursts of embarrassing emotion when I’m watching a remotely romantic or sad scene, as my family will attest.  And the film is emotional, focused as it is on the relationship between the amazing Jane and the remarkable Stephen.  I puzzle as to the reason.  Maybe it’s because I was checking off the familiar symptoms and admiring how accurately Eddie Redmayne (Stephen) had captured them.  It is a truly remarkable performance uncannily capturing, I gather, his mannerisms and his voice (until his tracheotomy).  I recognized the eccentric clumsiness, knocking things on the floor, the tripping over feet, the helpless falling to the ground and being unable to help oneself up.  The alarming choking fits were familiar, as was Jane’s matter-of-fact remedy of thumping between the shoulder blades.  We’re familiar with Jane understanding the inarticulacy of MND and interpreting it clearly for others.  Yes, technically it was brilliant.

I also found Felicity Jones’ portrayal of Jane quite beautiful and, by the real Jane Hawking’s account, very true to life.  In my experience there’s an astonishing strength in MND caring spouses.  As in the film, it is undemonstrative, almost matter of fact.  What the film is unable to show, however, by its very nature, is the emotional toll of the year-on-year care for someone you love who is progressively deteriorating in spite of all your efforts.  It’s possible to debate whether the usual frighteningly rapid types of MND or the exceptional protracted types are easier to deal with, but this truly is a case when comparisons are odious.  Each is equally hard in different ways.  All the film can do is highlight incidents which exemplify the strain imposed on both Stephen and Jane by his illness.  But believe me, being the ill person is easier than being his carer/partner.  The sustained pressure of being sole carer and mother of three growing children beggars belief.

In my view Jane is the hero of the film.  She makes the commitment to love and cherish Stephen in sickness and in health till death parts them, we gather, and sticks to it, despite our and his family’s scepticism.  After an initial diagnosis of two years of life, the marriage in fact lasted thirty years, until it fell apart when an exhausted Jane was replaced in Stephen’s affections by the exciting nurse, Elaine Mason (played by Maxine Peake).  Jane’s close platonic relationship with choirmaster, Jonathan Hellyer Jones (Charlie Cox), in due course ended in reality in their happy marriage.  The film, I gather, exercises some artistic licence with the facts of Travelling to Infinity, but sticks fairly faithfully to the story. 

For me a crucial moment was when Stephen had gone to the opera and had a coughing fit, which laid him up in hospital (in fact in Geneva) with pneumonia, while Jane had taken the children camping with Jonathan.  Jane rushes to his bedside where he lies unconscious on life-support.  The doctor faces her with the critical decision: shall he withdraw the life-support?  Now conventional wisdom would say, let him have a merciful release from an undignified life of disabling terminal illness.  The doctor adds that the only way to save him is to give him a tracheotomy (an incision in his throat) meaning he won’t ever be able to talk at all.  For Jane it would have been an easy way out and for Stephen a merciful release.  Whether it is her faith in God or her faith in her husband, she has no truck with the doctor’s advice and refuses to give permission for removing life-support.  Gradually, as we know, he recovered, and went on three years later to publish A Brief History of Time, which gave him his fortune and his international celebrity.  As he says in his answer near the end of the film, “However bad life may seem, there is always something you can do, and succeed at.  While there's life, there is hope.”  Professor Hawking has lent his support to the campaign for assisted dying.  It’s ironic then that, had his wife in 1985 followed that campaign’s logic, he would not still be alive and have the prospect of fulfilling one of his ambitions, to travel in space.

Despite popular myths, I suspect that neither Professor Hawking's determination to fight the disease nor Jane’s care actually served to prolong his survival.  Motor Neurone Disease is implacable, and no amount of will power makes much difference to its course.  The truth is that at diagnosis it’s hard to tell the variant of the disease, and that the average survival is two years.  However there are different sorts, as I’ve indicated.  And it is the passing of time that proves if you are destined to outlive the average.  Clearly giving up hope and receiving poor care would contribute to an earlier demise, but MND marches on whether fast or slowly.

What is the power and the attraction of the film?  I suspect that for most people it is the paradox of the brilliant scientific mind trapped in an increasingly helpless body – and the incredible determination of both central characters that not even the greatest odds should defeat their resolve.  It’s also a love story of course, of a peculiarly poignant kind, or to be more accurate it’s two or three love stories.  Maxine Peake captures an ambiguity in Elaine’s relationship with Stephen, which never has quite the tenderness that Jane demonstrated for him.  There’s admiration for the great man and a hint of professional ownership.  It’s an impressively subtle performance.  Charlie Cox, the fourth in the love story, gives a restrained performance of the widower, Jonathan, which well reflects the tension of his attraction to Jane and his respect for her position as Stephen’s emotional and physical mainstay.  I thoroughly believe the film’s account of the dynamics of the four central characters.

Eddie Redmayne has deservedly won an award for his bravura portrayal of Hawking.  I very much hope that Felicity Jones, in her equally demanding role, receives the recognition she merits.  That gritty determined commitment which constitutes caring for a loved one is far from flamboyant but is heroic.  I hope she receives an award for all the Janes who never get the recognition they deserve, and whom she sensitively and strongly represented.

The film is called The Theory of Everything – the elusive object of Stephen Hawking’s scientific quest.  I’m left wondering whether the meaning of everything isn’t more important and whether Jane hasn’t found it already.

The Paralympian and the Professor

I was very glad to read in this article, Tanni Grey-Thompson and Stephen Hawking, that the professor's advocacy of assisted suicide has been intelligently challenged.  Having ALS/MND like him, I'd been disappointed to hear he'd changed his mind about it, and had thought I should write some rebuttal. However I suspect her comment carries more weight and certainly will be more noticed.

One hears all too often the "I'd put my pet out of its misery" comparison propounded by the pro-euthanasia lobby, as an example of compassion. In fact, as Dame Tanni points out, it's all too likely to be the reverse, an example of objectification. Our dog, Jess, whom we like very much, is in her sixteenth year now. Reflecting on our decision to have her put down, whenever we'll choose to make it, I reckon it will based on factors such as her becoming incontinent and incurring increasing vets' bills and probably ceasing to give us pleasure. Those are all issues to do with us and our feelings and convenience and wallets. The dog has become an object - which, to be blunt, is the relation nearly every pet has towards its owner. Human beings are different.

Dame Tanni in her racing days

I suppose a physicist may be forgiven for regarding his body as no more than a sophisticated machine or computer, to switched off and scrapped when it goes wrong or no longer serves a useful purpose. But it appears that an athlete knows better.

Human beings are not merely animals or machines. They are subjects, not objects.

"So why not allow them to choose the time of their death?" I've been asked. "Why not let them say, 'I've had enough. I want to end it all'?" I hear that question, but the professor's comparison and the paralympian's answer provide part of the answer: it opens the way to the reduction of life to something we own rather than something of which we are a part. It pushes the door ajar for others putting pressure on us to euthanise ourselves, when we get messy to care for, expensive to treat, and not good company. When that becomes the way we think about ourselves then we have lost sight of the fact the life is our greatest gift, "from life's first cry to death's final breath".

(Do read Dame Tanni's article in which she also writes about Lord Falconer's approaching House of Lords' bill, his latest attempt to legalise assisted suicide, and if you have a tame peer you might write to her or him to say what you think of it.)

Where angels fear to tread

People sometimes ask me if I've ever been to Israel - or to the Holy Land. And the answer is that I have, in 1966! That was before the Six Day War, when the political map so radically changed. As a family we did something which would be impossible nowadays, I suspect: drove overland across Europe, through Turkey, Syria, Lebanon and Jordan, in a black Ford Consul 375, spending a week in East Jerusalem (as it then was) before crossing through the Mandelbaum Gate into West Jerusalem (as it then was). The political arrangement seemed to be working quite peacefully, as far as I in my teenage  years could tell. However the uneasy equilibrium was destroyed when less than a year later Israel launched preemptive strikes against the perceived threat of hostile forces gathering on all its borders.

I'm not one for pontificating on the rights and wrongs of the present situation in the Middle East. I do suspect that meddling by external "powers" only exacerbates the mess. The British establishment has not learned the lessons of Iraq, Afghanistan and Libya, it seems, with its careless encouragement of the Syrian uprising over two years ago. I've just been listening to Katie Melua's thoughtful song:
"If a black man is racist, is it okay
if it's the white man's racism that made him that way,
'cause the bully's the victim, they say?
By some sense they're all the same,
'cause the line between wrong and right
is the width of a thread from a spider's web...". Apportioning blame is a mug's, or a thug's, game.

One thing I am certain of is that isolation and non-communication is not a productive policy. Which is why I am sorry that Stephen Hawking has decided not to attend a conference next month in Israel. At first it was announced "for health reasons"; then it was because of a boycott of Israel by British academics - New York Times report. It's sad, because dialogue is always more productive than silence. It's ironic, because the Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem appears to be on the threshhold of a breakthrough in an ethical stem-cell treatment for ALS/MND (from which he and I suffer) and other neurodegenerative diseases, and I personally wouldn't want Israel to boycott me or fellow MND patients with the fruit of their research. A further irony is his nifty speech-generation device which is so well known as his "voice" has at its heart "a fiendishly clever silicon chip that was designed in . . . yes, Israel" (Rod Liddle, in The Sunday Times yesterday).

I much prefer the Jewish conductor, Daniel Barenboim's approach with the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra, which he co-founded in 1999 with Palestinian American, Edward Said, which brings together musicians from all over the Middle East, including Israel and Iran. "The aim of the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra is to promote understanding between Israelis and Palestinians and pave the way for a peaceful and fair solution of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Barenboim himself has spoken of the ensemble as follows:
'The Divan is not a love story, and it is not a peace story. It has very flatteringly been described as a project for peace. It isn't. It's not going to bring peace, whether you play well or not so well. The Divan was conceived as a project against ignorance. A project (for) the fact that it is absolutely essential for people to get to know the other, to understand what the other thinks and feels, without necessarily agreeing with it. I'm not trying to convert the Arab members of the Divan to the Israeli point of view, and [I'm] not trying to convince the Israelis to the Arab point of view. But I want to - and unfortunately I am alone in this now that Edward died a few years ago - ...create a platform where the two sides can disagree and not resort to knives.'" (Wikipedia) 

I was recently sent a link to this fascinating YouTube clip about Ulfat Khaider, an Arab-Israeli athlete. On Facebook, she's described as reaching high peaks "not only as a mountain climber, extreme sportswoman and volleyball player (she played for the Israeli national team), but as a remarkable woman striving for peace": YouTube Ulfat Khaider. This comment followed on Facebook: "Et on dit qu'il y a l'apartheid en Israel?! Pas seulement qu'il n'y a pas d'Apartheid, bien au contraire: dans quel pays arabe elle aurait pu devenir la champion qu'elle est? la femme libre et moderne qu'elle est? Bravo Ulfat et merci!" (And they say there's apartheid in Israel! Not only is there not apartheid - quite the contrary. In which Arab country could she have become the champion she is? The liberated modern woman that she is? Bravo and thanks!)

I try not to be naïve about the complexities of the Middle East and the Palestinian "question". Of course, I don't know the solution, but I would say, whether you're a scientist, musician or sportsman, that fighting ignorance is the better way than colluding with it. In Barenboim's words, "It is absolutely essential for people to get to know the other, to understand what the other thinks and feels, without necessarily agreeing with it." 

Happy Birthday, Professor

Last Sunday, the most famous MND survivor and scientist, Professor Stephen Hawking was 70. He got MND 50 years ago. I was sent this report by a friend and fellow blogger, who commented on how inspiring his words were. "The severely disabled but always active and indomitable professor Stephen Hawking said on his 70th birthday: 'Remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Try to make sense of what you see and wonder about what makes the universe exist. ... Be curious. And however difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at. It matters that you don't just give up." 

"Professor Hawking reflected on his life as 'a glorious time to be alive'."

I love his sense of wonder. In one way or another, we can all share that, and the great thing is it doesn't depend on our physical (or intellectual, come to that) abilities. A child has loads of it. Somehow we lose the wonder muscle as we grow up. I suppose it's a case of atrophy from lack of exercise, but the muscle is still there and we can bring it back into use, given practice - and then what a wonderful world to be explored awaits us! 

As someone who was written off as terminal with only two years to live 50 years ago, he is eloquent evidence  as to why we should not rush to write people off as fit only for a lethal injection. "It matters that you don't just give up." And I'd add that Stephen Hawking matters, whether or not he succeeds at anything more; but he matters because there are those who care about him as a person they love - and that makes him infinitely valuable.

I don't think he's any less flawed than the rest of us. I don't think his great intellect grants him unique insight into the meaning of life, or the existence of a Creator. Cleverness has its limits. Science deduces from the physical, but some things like love and beauty aren't susceptible to that sort of investigation. We just recognise them. As we begin to deteriorate, mentally from the age of 45 we learned this week, our physical nature begins to decay. To be honest facelifts and botox only make matters worse. And yet we don't become any the less capable of loving and being loved. MND does rapidly - or gradually - ravage the body, but still one cares, is cared for and has a life to live. And, as I sit at my laptop in touch with friends on the other side of the world, I entirely concur with the professor: it is a glorious time to be alive.

"Fools rush in...

... where angels fear to tread." I seem to recall that's Alexander Pope. But it's certainly something I've been waking up feeling, especially after the article was headlined: "I'd stake my life that Stephen Hawking is wrong about heaven"!  
It all started on Monday morning listening to the Today programme in my semi-somnolent state, when I thought I heard about an interview with superstar physicist, Stephen Hawking, in The Guardian, in which he said that heaven is a fairy story for those afraid of the dark. As I say, I was half asleep, but the idea must have lodged in my mind. "Half a mo," I thought. "That's not why I believe in life after death. Whatever happens, I imagine it'll be quite a relief for me when I get to dying. Well, he's just another chap with MND like me. Perhaps I can write an answer."


And so after breakfast I read the interview which was part of a long article. It went like this:

What is the value in knowing "Why are we here?"

The universe is governed by science. But science tells us that we can't solve the equations, directly in the abstract. We need to use the effective theory of Darwinian natural selection of those societies most likely to survive. We assign them higher value.

You've said there is no reason to invoke God to light the blue touchpaper. Is our existence all down to luck?

Science predicts that many different kinds of universe will be spontaneously created out of nothing. It is a matter of chance which we are in.

So here we are. What should we do?

We should seek the greatest value of our action.

You had a health scare and spent time in hospital in 2009. What, if anything, do you fear about death?

I have lived with the prospect of an early death for the last 49 years. I'm not afraid of death, but I'm in no hurry to die. I have so much I want to do first. I regard the brain as a computer which will stop working when its components fail. There is no heaven or afterlife for broken down computers; that is a fairy story for people afraid of the dark.

What are the things you find most beautiful in science?

Science is beautiful when it makes simple explanations of phenomena or connections between different observations. Examples include the double helix in biology, and the fundamental equations of physics."

So I wrote an answer and sent it to the Guardian's Comment is free editor, and was not a little surprised to receive an enthusiastic reply accepting it. It went up on the website on Tuesday, and proved the most viewed Comment is free article of the day and far the most commented on (1500+) - not that the latter's much comfort as normally most comments on the internet are negative. I refrained from reading them, having better things to do with my life. But I also received enough personal emails saying thank you to keep my pecker up.

Patrick Joyce's portrait in the Incurable Optimists series

I did think I'd been a bit rash to contradict Professor Hawking, but then I reflected that he's just such a man as I am. As Shylock observed to his Christian adversaries: "If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?" We are both frail human beings. We both wrestle with the same frustrations and the same big questions. We can both learn from each other, admittedly me rather more from him! And one day we'll both be facing the same big doorway.

By the way, my visit to the dentist again today was just as satisfactory as the last one - a longer procedure but excellently performed.

And one by-product of this week is that I'm now featured on  The Spiritual Bookclub blog...!

"God loves atheists"

Jane's reading a magazine which has a picture of a T-shirt on the cover. On the T-shirt is written GOD LOVES ATHEISTS - which I rather like. Because it's true. This morning's sermon mentioned what St Peter said, "the Lord is... not wishing that any should perish". There are various old jokes about atheism, such as: "I don't believe in God." "Ah but He believes in you." And graffito: "God is dead (Nietsche)" Added underneath: "Nietsche is dead (God)". However I don't think God is into easy point-scoring. Might not be too much of a problem! I think the truth is that He loves even those who reject Him. 

I don't think God will feel too threatened by the eminent MND sufferer and quantum physics professor from Cambridge, Stephen Hawking, asserting that He wasn't needed to explain the Big Bang and that it's simply the inevitable outworking of the laws of physics. My nephew tells me, "the irony about Hawking's comment was that it was based on a very controversial metaphysical part of science that is not backed up with any emperical evidence at the moment (so not really based on much evidence - as many atheists like to pin on the Christians)." Which if true strikes me as odd, as 'a metaphysical part of science' seems an oxymoron. There are two good articles on the internet by men more qualified to comment than me:

One a comment by Professor John Lennox from Oxford - http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-1308599/Stephen-Hawking-wrong-You-explain-universe-God.html

And the other by astrophysicist, Professor David Wilkinson of Durham - http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=429496055821&id=615659947

"The science Stephen Hawking uses raises a number of questions which for many opens the door to the possibility of an existence of a creator and for many points to the existence of a creator." Dr Wilkinson, in an interview in the Times, identifies three aspects of Stephen Hawking's argument which might actually lead to belief in a Creator: purpose of the universe, the origin of the 'laws' and its intelligibility. Though his own faith, he says, rests not on arguments from creation but from the historical and experiential evidence of the person of Jesus.

Which I suppose in a way was what St Paul was getting at when he said, "Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe" (1 Corinthians 1. 20 21). Annoying for us intellectuals! But good news for everyone - it's not an elitist preserve.