A Case of Conscience by James Blish
James Blish's story is an intriguing proposition. Originally published as a novella and then expanded, it tells of a Jesuit priest-biologist, Father Ramon Ruiz-Sanchez, and his attempts to come to terms with the theological puzzle that is created by the newly-discovered planet Lithia and its inhabitants, the Lithians.
These creatures – part mammal, part lizard – are sentient, intelligent and, apparently, without sin. More to the point from a theological perspective, this suggests that they're without original sin.
Does that mean that they are God's creations (and that God has created a world without sin) or – a heretical thought – those of the devil? For if they are the devil's creations, then that admits that the devil has the power of creation.
Cleaver, one of Ruiz-Sanchez fellow scientists on the initial mission to Lithia, wants to have the planet quarantined and turned into a factory for nuclear weaponary. The priest wants it quarantined completely, in the belief that it can only infect Earth.
But when the science teams returns home, it takes with it the gift of a Lithian in its initial egg state. And as Egtverchi grows to adulthood on Earth, his presence brings to a critical point the mess that is an humanity that has been largely driven underground into the "shelter economy" – a subterranean world that was built in order to harbour the people from nuclear attacks, but which has turned vast numbers of them schizoid.
With excommunication hanging over him, the Pope orders Ruiz-Sanchez to exorcise the 'demon' that is Lithia.
In his introduction to the novel, Blish says that he himself is agnostic. And he certainly creates a likable and sympathetic character in Ruiz-Sanchez. But the story also suggests the kind of intellectual gymnastics required to fit the scientific world into a religious framework.
The main interest points are less in the obvious puzzle that Ruiz-Sanchez faces and more in the contrast between the sinless – but really rather bland Lithians – and the sinful, but interesting, humans. Who wants to be so bland and live a life that is devoid of so much experience? What the church describes as 'sin' is an inherent part of the human experience – which makes sound theological business sense, of course.
Ultimately, after developing a number of themes, Blish's denouement feels rushed and he skates rapidly over his conclusions – that every situation can be twisted to claim a divine influence; that the church colludes with the political system to maintain its own position; that the church is so obsessed with theological conundrums that it doesn't care about humanity itself. Perhaps this is partly down to the expansion from the short form to a full-length novel.
All in all, it's an intriguing effort, but one that leaves the reader feels short-changed.
James Blish's story is an intriguing proposition. Originally published as a novella and then expanded, it tells of a Jesuit priest-biologist, Father Ramon Ruiz-Sanchez, and his attempts to come to terms with the theological puzzle that is created by the newly-discovered planet Lithia and its inhabitants, the Lithians.
These creatures – part mammal, part lizard – are sentient, intelligent and, apparently, without sin. More to the point from a theological perspective, this suggests that they're without original sin.
Does that mean that they are God's creations (and that God has created a world without sin) or – a heretical thought – those of the devil? For if they are the devil's creations, then that admits that the devil has the power of creation.
Cleaver, one of Ruiz-Sanchez fellow scientists on the initial mission to Lithia, wants to have the planet quarantined and turned into a factory for nuclear weaponary. The priest wants it quarantined completely, in the belief that it can only infect Earth.
But when the science teams returns home, it takes with it the gift of a Lithian in its initial egg state. And as Egtverchi grows to adulthood on Earth, his presence brings to a critical point the mess that is an humanity that has been largely driven underground into the "shelter economy" – a subterranean world that was built in order to harbour the people from nuclear attacks, but which has turned vast numbers of them schizoid.
With excommunication hanging over him, the Pope orders Ruiz-Sanchez to exorcise the 'demon' that is Lithia.
In his introduction to the novel, Blish says that he himself is agnostic. And he certainly creates a likable and sympathetic character in Ruiz-Sanchez. But the story also suggests the kind of intellectual gymnastics required to fit the scientific world into a religious framework.
The main interest points are less in the obvious puzzle that Ruiz-Sanchez faces and more in the contrast between the sinless – but really rather bland Lithians – and the sinful, but interesting, humans. Who wants to be so bland and live a life that is devoid of so much experience? What the church describes as 'sin' is an inherent part of the human experience – which makes sound theological business sense, of course.
Ultimately, after developing a number of themes, Blish's denouement feels rushed and he skates rapidly over his conclusions – that every situation can be twisted to claim a divine influence; that the church colludes with the political system to maintain its own position; that the church is so obsessed with theological conundrums that it doesn't care about humanity itself. Perhaps this is partly down to the expansion from the short form to a full-length novel.
All in all, it's an intriguing effort, but one that leaves the reader feels short-changed.