First of all, Hawking claims that the universe creates itself “out of nothing”. But nothing is not really nothing in the world of Hawking.  The Hartle-Hawking model of “nothing” is sometimes described as zero volume with 3D geometry and sufficiently subject to the laws of quantum physics to allow for talk of ‘tunnelling’. Well, we might not be sure what any of that stuff means, but it sure ain’t the same thing as nothing. As Rodney Holder pointed out on Channel 4, the statement “because there is a law such as gravity, the universe will create itself out of nothing” is a paradox. Read the statement again. It refutes itself. Creatio ex nihilo is creatio ex materia after all. Nothing is apparently not nothing. (“When I use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, `it means just what I choose it to mean”). I don’t think it unreasonable to ask that someone explain to us what gravity is, and how it came into existence, before yet another valiant attempt to proclaim the death of God is launched.

Second, if you want to accept Hawking’s argument, you’ll need to trust in wildly speculative concepts like “imaginary time”. But how should we view this sort of concept? Hawking repeatedly gets his philosophy muddled up on this question. Sometimes his theoretical constructs are just calculating devices (anti-realist mathematical instruments) and sometimes they are portrayed as ontological reality. Just in case you think I’m being unfair to the man, listen to him in a recent interview, when he adopted the former position: “I don't demand that a theory correspond to reality because I don't know what it is. Reality is not a quality you can test with litmus paper”. Now contrast that with today’s headlines. He has jumped magnificently from mathematical instruments into ontology. But such confusion will not do. To revert to the example of imaginary time: the thing might be an entirely valid mathematical instrument. But it can’t be actualized. We exist in real, moment-by-moment time, not imaginary time. So, if you decide to accept Hawking’s argument, remember that you aren’t trusting the math. You’re trusting in an imaginative leap into metaphysics. You religious nut.

While I’m on the subject of metaphysics, we should talk briefly about “multiverses”. If you want to accept Hawking’s argument, you’ll need to sign up to another speculative idea: the idea that our universe is just one of a (potentially infinite) set of parallel universes. Let me quote John Polkinghorne to make one simple point about Many Worlds theories: “Let us recognize these speculations for what they are. They are not physics, but in the strictest sense, metaphysics. There is no purely scientific reason to believe in an ensemble of universes”. By the theory’s own definition, it will never be possible to signal or contact any other universe.  So you’re not resting on physics at all. You’re leaping into a metaphysic in which reality is construed as an inflated bubble emerging from spacetime foam. Well,  I wish I had your faith.

Incidentally, one of the spookiest things about science is that scientific thinking has always tended to reflect its era. Quantum mechanics would never have gained traction in the 1700s. And what idea is driving the scientific agenda in our postmodern world today? The one which says there are many worlds. We can only experience our universe because it is the one that produced us. If Jacques Derrida had been a physicist, he’d have invented the multiverse.  But that’s another story.

The final thing I’d say about the God-did-not-create-the-Universe claim is that it is based on scientism. And scientism is one of Richard Dawkins’ most irritating mantras (I mention Dawkins because he has chosen, with wearisome predictability, to act as Hawking’s cheerleader in this argument). The scientism mantra says that “the only truth is scientific truth”. I recently asked my 14 year old niece what was wrong with that statement. She found the flaw immediately. The statement is itself not a scientific statement. So it must be false. So scientific truth must not be the only truth.

(Richard Dawkins and his merry little men choose to ignore this argument, of course. The main reason that Dawkins irritates thoughtful Christians is not because he is aggressive and antagonistic, but because he doesn’t play by the rules of academic discourse. He only uses logic when it helps. I’ve met scores of creatures like Dawkins in business life. They come from a particular sub-species of salesmen: charming and persuasive people who ruthlessly promote their own product and rubbish the competition using completely unfair tactics. Dawkins isn’t motivated by a search for truth. He wants to win a private war going on in his head. His problem is not that he disbelieves in God; his problem is that he dislikes God. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the oldest problem in the universe. It is time for academics (of any faith and no faith) to stand up and defend their own disciplines against a man who is dragging academia itself into disrepute. Someone has to explain to Dawkins that he does not have the right to drive his tank over every intellectual discipline known to man – from Hebrew linguistics to epistemology – and tell him bluntly that he’s an unremarkable scientist, an amateur philosopher, and a lousy historian. Bashing in this last paragraph has been a cathartic experience).

Quentin de la Bedoyere, science editor of the Catholic Herald, makes a much more gracious and useful point about the uselessness of scientism: "If all the physical laws had been explained and proved -- which is a million miles from the case -- our understanding of the actions of God would not be one whit greater: his existence and his actions are of a different order. Most particularly it would not touch the question of how something existing comes out from nothing. That is a question which science cannot answer, and will never answer, because nothingness is not within its domain. ... Neither Hawking, nor you, nor I will ever explain creation, except through faith."

Amen to that. I finish with a quote from Lemaitre, the Belgian priest who solved Einstein's equations of general relativity for the universe as a whole, proving the concept of a "creation event". He once said: "There are two ways to truth. And I have chosen both".

In the days when we lived in an agricultural economy, Farmer Jones’ wife would lift a few eggs from the chicken coop, grind some flour in a hand mill, and then bake a Birthday cake.  After a few centuries, society moved to what we call a ‘goods economy’. So now Mrs. Jones would walk to the village shop, buy some eggs and self-raising flour, and use these goods to bake her Birthday cake.  Later, society evolved into what we call a ‘service economy’: Mrs. Jones could now drive her Range Rover down to Marks & Spencer, where she could buy a pre-packaged Birthday cake straight off the shelf. But the 1990s saw another profound shift in society. In the new so-called ‘experience economy’, Mrs. Jones phones up a company like choc-o-bloc or McDonalds. She books an entire Birthday party experience for 30 screaming kids, and the company throws the Birthday cake in for free. Mrs. Jones has no longer any idea how a Birthday cake is made, or how much it costs.

In today’s world, people don’t pay for goods or services; they buy experiences. When we buy a coffee in Starbucks, we aren’t really paying for a cup of hot milky liquid. Our money is exchanged for the experience of café culture. Look at the marketing literature for Disneyworld, the latest gaming platform, or a BMW car. The promises being made to consumers all focus on the concept of an experience. We live in an “experience economy”.

This way of thinking has infected how many Christians think about a local church.  There is an expectation that settled, well-run churches can exist in pre-packaged form (built by people who do that sort of thing), allowing the rest of us to sample the experience they offer.  Many young Christians sit loose to their current church and avoid any attempt to get tied down by concepts like membership. Elders who talk about membership are treated like timeshare salesmen, trying to trap the unwary into a deal that will limit a young Christian’s freedom for decades.

But freedom turns out to be just another word for loneliness. Northern Ireland is notorious for the swarms of disillusioned Christians who move from church to church, searching for a better experience.  And in fifty years time, I believe that the problem of Christian consumerism could lead to the demise of Christian witness in Ireland.

Why do I make such an extravagant claim?  Well, building a local church is a bit like baking a cake.  It takes hard work, skill, and years of learning. The art has to be passed on from one generation to the next.  If everyone acts like consumers, then in a generation there will be no one left who knows how to bake the cake. Churches, like ships and computers and everything else, will be made in China. But unlike material goods, churches cannot be imported. Unless they are built locally, they won’t exist.

"Let them eat cake" said Marie Antoinette, revealing her complete lack of understanding of the social crisis that engulfed France in 1789. “Let others do church” may be the epitaph of a generation of Christian consumers that took the existence of local churches for granted.

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/kevin_kelly_on_the_next_5_000_days_of_the_web.html

You need to let him get to the end before you'll see what I mean. The bit about "the One" is like something straight out of the last book of the Bible....

When I was a student I assumed that the world was a safe place: no one got sick or died. Relationships didnt end in heartache. But maybe you have learned quicker than I did that real life isn't like that. Sometimes life can overwhelm us, and we feel like we are drowning. If you are feeling like that, why not read Psalm 42 (and No. 43 - the two Psalms go together)?

How should you respond when someone accuses you of being intolerant because of your christian faith? I sometimes respond by asking a question in return: "Tell me, if something is important and true, shouldn't people be told about it? If someone discovered a cure for pancreatic cancer, how would you feel if they kept their private truth to themselves?" The logic is irrefutable, so you can then say "OK, what right have you to say that Christianity is unimportant and false, without even debating it with me?"

The Christian’s answer to fear is a deep-rooted conviction that you are loved by God, and that He has your best interests at heart.