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This chapter focuses on the emergence and development of the Big Bang theory of the universe, from the mid 1940s to the late 1970s. George Gamow, a main figure in this development, developed an early model of the exploding universe based on nuclear reactions, but his theory was ignored by most physicists and astronomers. Moreover, the theory and relativistic evolution cosmology in general, was challenged by an alternative research programme in the form of the steady-state theory. The situation only changed in the 1960s, mainly because of new observations, such as the discovery of the cosmic microwave background, that were seen as strong support of the ‘hot’ Big Bang theory. This theory quickly became a new paradigm of physical cosmology.

Radio astronomy, as first applied by Penzias and Wilson, showed that all space is permeated by a low level of radiation. This is left over from the big bang at the beginning of the universe and is a major factor in proving the validity of Big Bang theory. The existence of the cosmic background radiation, which is everywhere the same, raises the question of the possibility of using it to define an absolute space, and therefore negating relativity theory. It turns out that relativity is still valid because it deals with the relations between observable objects, and is correct regardless of the existence of a background radiation.

Inductive cosmological arguments are prima facie more promising for the natural theologian than deductive arguments, such as the Kalam cosmological argument, which is not sound. In the cosmological scenario of an infinitely old universe, however, there is no valid explanandum for the hypothesis of theism. The claim that theism might explain the infinite series of time-slices of the universe ‘as a whole’ is based upon a fallacy of ambiguity. There is no valid explanandum either for a synchronic cosmological argument. Finally, the argument from the Big Bang to God is problematic for a multitude of reasons. It cannot avoid the risk of God-of-the-gaps. It cannot satisfy the relevance condition, because the likelihood of the Big Bang singularity given theism is negligible (if it can be determined at all). Also, the prior probability of the Big Bang singularity cannot be small compared to that of God, for example (if it can be determined at all).

This chapter focuses on the development of the Big Bang theory and its impact on subsequent cosmological theories. The twentieth century began with the notion of a single, static, infinite world; but this theory was largely dismantled by Edward Hubble’s discovery of spiral nebulae that turned out to be galaxies in their own right, refuting the singular cosmos theory. It was not long before Hubble observed that the universe is expanding. The possibility of an expanding universe originated from Albert Einstein’s theory of general relativity, although he was initially convinced that the universe remained constant. Georges Lemaitre, on the other hand, concluded that the universe appeared to have burst from a tiny ball of nuclear fluid he called the “Primeval Atom.” Thus began the conception of the Big Bang as the beginning of the universe, and the Big Crunch as its possible ending fate. Other alternative theories include the Big Whimper, the ekpyrotic scenario, and the string theory.

Natural theologians who aim at confirming the theistic hypothesis by adducing empirical evidence are confronted by the dilemma of God-of-the-gaps. Either theism predicts no specific phenomena at all, or these phenomena may be accounted for in the future by superior scientific explanations, so that theism will be disconfirmed. A pessimistic induction concerning the history of science and natural theology will convince sophisticated natural theologians that they should avoid this risk of God-of-the-gaps. Richard Swinburne uses the following immunizing strategy: theism should purport to explain only phenomena that are either ‘too big’ or ‘too odd’ for science to explain. But this strategy fails with regard to miracles (too odd), as is argued by a detailed examination of the case of Christ’s bodily resurrection, and it is problematic with regard to instances of ‘too big’, such as fine-tuning, or the explanation of the universe as a whole.

This chapter examines processes whereby both international media conglomerates and transnational fans (re)circulate television series, whether for commercial gain or the negotiation of identity and community membership. The chapter discusses four key processes of (re)circulation, (1) (re)circulation of the narrative, (2) (re)circulation of the dialogue, (3) (re)circulation of the production, and (4) performative (re)circulation, illustrating them with examples drawn mainly from The Big Bang Theory. It argues that such processes can be associated with different styles of fandom, and that there are both similarities and differences between T-shirt texts and social media texts, for instance in terms of their potential for style and styling.

This chapter scrutinizes the many ways in which positive psychology contributes to therapeutic understandings of salvation. Building on attention to the way in which the work of Martin Seligman has influenced approaches to happiness and forms of counselling, the chapter examines two Christian examples (one Protestant—Joel Osteen, one Roman Catholic—Christopher Kaczor) of positive psychology’s influence on Christian practice and critically explores the appropriateness of such use. It then explores a second example of positive mood through examining how television comedy is received and used as a contribution to fostering well-being. Using The Big Bang Theory, the chapter notes how religion appears as a marginal but meaningful element within the series, and examines the significance of the main thrust of the series in both its content and reception.

Theism can be a theory or existential hypothesis to be confirmed by empirical evidence only if it has some predictive power. Theists should (and do) prefer a purely logical definition of predictive power, according to which a hypothesis h has predictive power with regard to evidence e iff the relevance condition P ( e | h & k ) 〉 P ( e | k ) is met. But theism can have predictive power in this sense with regard to existing evidence only if one can non-arbitrarily attribute creative intentions to God. The auxiliary hypotheses attributing these intentions should be independently justified. It is argued that Richard Swinburne’s solution to this problem of theism’s predictive power on the basis of his moral objectivism (or moral realism) fails, and that his attributions of creative intentions to God are anthropomorphic projections.

This chapter explores the medieval debate about the nature of creation. It compares and contrasts arguments of three major schools. The first school suggests that the universe had no start, and that God’s work of creation is, accordingly, continuous and with no beginning. The second two schools suggest that the creation had a beginning but differ as to whether God created the universe out of nothing, or out of some primordial matter. Bringing these arguments into conversation with contemporary philosophy and cosmology, this chapter finds in favor of an original creation from nothing.

The Introduction considers Hesiod’s Theogony in light of two modern creation stories. In the first instance, it compares it to the Big Bang theory; in the second to Freud’s “scientific myth” Civilization and Its Discontents.

This chapter concentrates on social genders—the everyday regime of masculinity and femininity—as a regime produced through their quadratic inter-relation. Subject texts include Absolutely Fabulous, Bridesmaids, Sex and the City, Bond films, The Big Bang Theory, and "Bro-mance" films.

Central to our feelings of awareness is the sensation of the progression of time. We seem to be moving ever forward, from a definite past into an uncertain future. The past is over, we feel, and there is nothing to be done with it. It is unchangeable, and in a certain sense, it is ‘out there’ still. Our present knowledge of it may come from our records, our memory traces, and from our deductions from them, but we do not tend to doubt the actuality of the past. The past was one thing and can (now) be only one thing. What has happened has happened, and there is now nothing whatever that we, nor anyone else can do about it! The future, on the other hand, seems yet undetermined. It could turn out to be one thing or it could turn out to be another. Perhaps this ‘choice’ is fixed completely by physical laws, or perhaps partly by our own decisions (or by God); but this ‘choice’ seems still there to be made. There appear to be merely potentialities for whatever the ‘reality’ of the future may actually resolve itself to be. As we consciously perceive time to pass, the most immediate part of that vast and seemingly undetermined future continuously becomes realized as actuality, and thus makes its entry into the fixed past. Sometimes we may have the feeling that we even have been personally ‘responsible’ for somewhat influencing that choice of particular potential future which in fact becomes realized, and made permanent in the actuality of the past. More often, we feel ourselves to be helpless spectators - perhaps thankfully relieved of responsibility - as, inexorably, the scope of the determined past edges its way into an uncertain future. Yet physics, as we know it, tells a different story. All the successful equations of physics are symmetrical in time. They can be used equally well in one direction in time as in the other. The future and the past seem physically to be on a completely equal footing. Newton’s laws, Hamilton’s equations, Maxwell’s equations, Einstein’s general relativity, Dirac’s equation, the Schrödinger equation - all remain effectively unaltered if we reverse the direction of time.

What need we know of the workings of Nature in order to appreciate how consciousness may be part of it? Does it really matter what are the laws that govern the constituent elements of bodies and brains? If our conscious perceptions are merely the enacting of algorithms, as many AI supporters would have us believe, then it would not be of much relevance what these laws actually are. Any device which is capable of acting out an algorithm would be as good as any other. Perhaps, on the other hand, there is more to our feelings of awareness than mere algorithms. Perhaps the detailed way in which we are constituted is indeed of relevance, as are the precise physical laws that actually govern the substance of which we are composed. Perhaps we shall need to understand whatever profound quality it is that underlies the very nature of matter, and decrees the way in which all matter must behave. Physics is not yet at such a point. There are many mysteries to be unravelled and many deep insights yet to be gained. Yet, most physicists and physiologists would judge that we already know enough about those physical laws that are relevant to the workings of such an ordinary-sized object as a human brain. While it is undoubtedly the case that the brain is exceptionally complicated as a physical system, and a vast amount about its detailed structure and relevant operation is not yet known, few would claim that it is in the physical principles underlying its behaviour that there is any significant lack of understanding. I shall later argue an unconventional case that, on the contrary, we do not yet understand physics sufficiently well that the functioning of our brains can be adequately described in terms of it, even in principle. To make this case, it will be necessary for me first to provide some overview of the status of present physical theory. This chapter is concerned with what is called ‘classical physics’, which includes both Newton’s mechanics and Einstein’s relativity.

Rapid cultural change, exacerbated by economic distress, has triggered a powerful authoritarian reflex. Whether this is the wave of the future depends on how we learn to cope with the winner-takes-all economies of advanced knowledge societies. Traditional religions present each culture’s norms as universal values, which can be dangerously divisive. To function positively in a globalizing world, religion needs a universal perspective. The cosmology of the Big Bang is at least as impressive as the account in Genesis. That universe had the potential to develop good and evil, benevolence and meaning—but none of these existed before intelligent life emerged. The account of creation in the book of Genesis can be seen as a first approximation of the more recent account provided by the Big Bang theory—which is only a first approximation of the ultimate account. Both traditional religion and modern science provide successive approximations of a truth that is still being fathomed.