In the Introduction to The Sacred Depths of Nature, cell biologist Ursula Goodenough says that nature itself, if approached correctly, elicits religious responses which can serve as the basis for a much-needed global ethos.  Her book is an attempt to articulate such a correct approach to nature - she calls it "religious naturalism" - and to draw out its ethical implications.

Knowing such a plan, Goodenough's book is both surprising and unsurprising.  The large framework of the book is predictable.  Goodenough tells the story of nature by starting with a description of the origins of the universe, progressing then to the origins of our globe, the origins of life, and finally to the development, via evolution, of complex organisms.  The structure of the individual chapters, on the other hand, is quite surprising.  They are, to use her own words, constructed along the lines of a "devotional:" first a description, then a meditative reflection or "response."  The descriptions and explanations of natural phenomena are kept strictly separate from the (mostly) personal considerations that articulate Goodenough's vision of "religious naturalism."

Goodenough has a natural gift for writing clear and understandable prose about technical subjects.  She mixes description, simile, and explanation with ease, allowing a reader with only a working familiarity with things like DNA and biodiversity to learn quite a lot.  In many places, Goodenough's prose is downright enjoyable.  Consider the elegant simplicity of the following passage about the origin of life:  "That is, life emerged from nonlife.  The stages that were traversed, the trials and errors, the near-extinctions, the struggles to recover, all these have been erased, supplanted by our intimate understanding of the ultimate winner, the first progenitor cell from whom all creatures flow.”  [27]

Or consider the way Goodenough honors her reader's intelligence in this description of stars in the early universe: "The second-generation stars proceed to burn their hydrogen and collapse, forming more new elements in the process, and the released detritus then reaggregates into third-generation stars that are yet again more complex.”  [8]

Although a gifted stylist, what is truly admirable about Goodenough is the total lack of embellishment in her descriptions of the natural world.  All that is personal, along with adjectives and adverbs that would reveal her feelings, is relegated to the "response" section of each chapter.  This enables the book's "devotional" strategy to work superbly, for it puts the reader squarely in front of the phenomena in question - whether galaxy formation or cellular membrane function - before encountering Goodenough and her reflections.  In this way, Goodenough does something quite rare in popular scientific writing: she honors her subject and her reader enough to give them time by themselves, as it were, before giving herself a place in the discussion.  Given Goodenough's obvious love of her various topics, this reveals either remarkable self-restraint or an all-too-rare gift for teaching and writing on her part.  It is this aspect of The Sacred Depths of Nature that makes me recommend it without qualification.

As noted, however, Goodenough's goal is not simply to describe and explain nature, but to develop "religious naturalism" from it.  This part of her project begins well.  Given Goodenough's wonderful, unembellished prose about (to use her phrase) "The Way Things Are," it is hard not to follow her into feeling a profound sense of awe, wonder, and mystery when considering the vastness of the universe and the complex (and perhaps improbable) development of life.  The very personal style of these early responses also helps, for one does not feel preached at or commanded to do anything, which makes the emotions her prose elicits all the more powerful.  In this regard, it must also be noted that Ippy Patterson's elegant drawings at the beginning of each chapter do much to draw the reader into the meditative tone that Goodenough establishes in her responses.

If Goodenough simply wanted to show that a sense of mystery and awe follow naturally from a consideration of "The Way Things Are," her book would be, at the very least, unproblematic.  But again, she also wants to say that the religious feelings elicited by the natural world can serve as the basis of a "global ethos."  In this regard, her book is lacking and, at times, notably confusing.

The unsuspecting reader, for example, can easily be confused by Goodenough's claim to be someone deeply engaged in a Christian tradition (at one point, she identifies her church of choice as Presbyterian).  The confusion begins with statements that are startlingly at odds with any form of Christianity: "I sanctify myself by my own grace" [60]; "redemption" and "renewal" are said to be the same thing [129]; and an unqualified claim that unconditional love "flows from God the Father, Mary the Mother, and Christ the Redeemer" [137].  She also says that she does not believe in a personal God [139].

This is closely connected to another confusion in the book.  Goodenough never criticizes those who believe in a personal God.  She is, in fact, almost apologetic about it, saying that she is simply unable to possess such faith, and she never criticizes those who believe differently than she does.  This clearly implies that she honestly recognizes different religious points of view and even different religious experiences, which in turn suggests that Goodenough's "religious naturalism" is simply one way of understanding nature.  Yet by the end of the book, Goodenough affirms all religion as equal and even claims that all meaningful religiousness is, in fact dependent on feelings toward the natural world [173].  In other words, "religious naturalism" now seems like the correct way of seeing things, or perhaps what is really going on in other religions.  Goodenough should either claim that her version of religion is superior to the others or acknowledge the legitimate differences between her views and those of other faiths - and, of course, the resulting differences in the way nature is understood.

Goodenough also runs into trouble when she tries to adduce ethics from "The Way Things Are."  One can concede that we ought to feel a sense of mystery and awe when considering the natural world.  That is not enough to found human ethics, however, for we cannot wonder at the universe all the time.  We also have to organize and use it.  But how ought we to use it?  Goodenough thinks that the "emergence" of things and evolution should lead to an ethic of "continuance" and a special empathy toward animals which are genetically similar to us (like chimps and bonobos) [164].  But if "continuance" is truly a virtue, why not look upon the possible end of the human race as a significant boon for a continued evolutionary "emergence" - that is, as opposed to continual human meddling in and stifling of nature?  And if evolution is indeed our ethical primer, then we should be able to destroy other species as our survival depends on it.  And as for chimps and bonobos in particular, it is not hard to find examples of natural antagonism and cruelty between genetically similar species.  Goodenough notes that evolution has given us empathy and "a sense that we should win" [115]; if this is true, however, then evolution itself cannot be said to favor one or the other.  The fact is that evolution, along with "The Way Things Are," is, ethically speaking, a mixed bag at best.

The way out of this difficulty is hinted at but not pursued by Goodenough.  She readily notes that human beings are distinctive: unlike any other organism, we use language, analyze reality, create art, and see meaning in our lives [165-66].  What she will not say, however, is what seems to follow quite naturally from these facts: we are transcendent.  We possess an ability to transcend our natural environment and even, at times, our own biochemistry, and a part of this transcendence is the ability to assign value to things and have an ethic in the first place.  It seems reasonable to say, then, that we need something transcendent to guide us in what is right and give us strength to do what is right.  Again, nature gives us selfishness and empathy; something other than nature must tell us which is better.  Goodenough says that with reverence and gratitude, human beings of good will can figure out how to properly care for themselves and the world [172].  This may be true, but it begs the most important question: where do we get a good will in the first place?  We know from nature that we can be responsible, but what gives us the idea that we must?  The answer that many religions give is that both wisdom and strength come from above or from within - but not from the world.

Human transcendence is, perhaps paradoxically, a natural fact.  To use Goodenough's phrase again, it is part of "The Way Things Are."  For whatever reason, however, she does not think that this aspect of "The Way Things Are" carries as much weight as the natural world does.  In doing so, she isolates human beings from the very source (or sources) that would enable them to achieve the harmony that she understandably longs for.

I want to note again that I recommend The Sacred Depths of Nature.  It is clear, engaging, captivating, and wonderfully humble and honest.  So humble and honest, in fact, that one can fully expect to see another book from Goodenough, for she seems hardly the type to think that she is done thinking about the matters in The Sacred Depths of Nature.

Ursula Goodenough, The Sacred Depths of Nature. Oxford University Press; ISBN: 0-19-512613-0 224 pp.; 18 linecuts; 5-1/2 x 8-1/4; 1998 (and now in paperback).
For more information about the book:
http://www.oup-usa.org/isbn/0195126130.html.  
For more information about the author:  
http://www.biology.wustl.edu/faculty/ursula.html.