Introduction

The field of science and religion has seen tremendous growth over the past twenty years, with several academic societies, an increasing number of regular conferences, and a growing population of scholars (many of whom are younger) joining the fray. This growing attention has only benefited the field as new approaches, greater diversity, and increased dialogue have been changing and maturing the field. Since the 1990s, virtually all humanities (primarily historical) work on science and religion has operated under the principle of complexity, a seemingly simple premise from which science and religion studies paradigmatically operates. Complexity insists that interactions between science and religion are just that—complex. Complexity entails that there are no, or at least it is difficult to establish, master narratives from which science and religion can be categorized. The suggestion is that all research done at the crossroads of science and religion (broadly construed) must proceed with as much openness, reflexivity, and plasticity as a scholar can muster, as context—in its entirety—is the only stability a scholar of science and religion can depend on.

However, there has been and continues to be a polarizing disconnect between the epistemic claims of scholars working in the field and the general public. The conflict thesis, the position that science and religion are fundamentally at odds (and in conflict), holds firmly to the popular mind. The idea of conflict gets attention in news articles, movies, television programs, video games, and more. This is expressed regardless of religious and/or spiritual commitments, as Thomas Aechtner (2020, 3) argues, “mass media is a decisive component of science-religion controversies.” Popular culture, as a reflection of the culture that produces it, portrays science and religion with the stereotypes and fallacies scholars have been trying to extinguish for decades. But is it that simple? Has media content forgone the warnings and pleas of scholarship for clicks, likes, and views?

It is my intention in this article to achieve three things. The first is to offer a brief overview of the field of science and religion as I see it right now, as I want to have a quick beginner’s resource for scholars of media and popular culture interested in science and religion as a starting point; after all, this article was designed to be a small introduction to science and religion to those presenting at and attending the Popular Culture Association’s conference. My second objective is to argue that science and religion studies must gain traction in scholarship on popular culture—media, film, television, etc. In not doing so more purposively in these areas, scholars who engage with the field of science and religion and are trying to dispel the conflict myth are setting themselves up for sustained disappointment, as conflict narratives will continue to remain in public and popular discourses unless the requisite frameworks that take into account the diverse practices, affects, and theories of media/popular culture studies are put to use. I offer here preliminary suggestions of ways in which science and religion generally can be incorporated into scholarly work on popular culture and why it would be important to do so. My final component is offering an example of work on popular culture that demonstrates complexity in science and religion. I do this using the 2014 Christopher Nolan film Interstellar. I show how science and religion enter into mainstream media and what the narratives of such texts suggest.

Science and Religion

Despite being a relatively newly defined field of study within the academy, science and religion has nonetheless been long discussed as the two subjects that make the field’s namesake individually have long and rich histories of inquiry and study. Religion has been the subject of scholarly work since the foundations of the Western canon were committed to clay well before “science” arrived on the stage of the human drama, and science, while much younger in its conceptual status, has such powerful influence today that many disciplines have subfields dedicated to it and new fields have developed around it, such as science and technology studies, history, sociology, philosophy, and so on. However, only relatively recently were attempts made to formalize the two together.¹

Many excellent introductory resources exist today as the field has matured sufficiently over the course of the last few decades. Oxford’s Very Short Introduction series now has a second edition of Science and Religion from Thomas Dixon and Adam Shapiro (2022). The always-reliable Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy has an entry too on “Religion and Science” written by Helen De Cruz, the Danforth Chair in Humanities at Saint Louis University. There are also volumes that, while not introductions per se, provide broad and excellent perspectives from a diversity of disciplines. Peter Harrison’s (2010) Cambridge Companion to Science and Religion is a staple of the field, with contributions from psychology (Fraser Watts), history (e.g., Jon Topham), sociology (John Evans), astrobiology (Simon Conway Morris), and other fields and disciplines. Of course, any introduction to the field would be incomplete without reading Harrison’s (2015) The Territories of Science and Religion, which did so much for reckoning with the history and deployment of the terms that make up the field’s name, not to mention the late Ronald L. Numbers’ (2009) volume, Galileo Goes to Jail and Other Myths About Science and Religion. This last edited collection gives a sweeping correction of the “myths” (in the falsehood sense) about science and religion, tackling everything from early Christian history to Darwin to physics, biology, and more. These resources not only speak to the wealth and breadth of the scholarship happening in this field but also to one of the most lingering myths our field continues to wrangle.

Some nineteenth-century natural philosophers and naturalists were among the first to formalize and organize around the idea that science is so fundamentally at odds with religion (in this case, typically, Anglican Christianity, though other Protestant denominations and Catholicism too) that the progress of, say, England would be hampered or halted altogether.² When, in the nineteenth century, science popularization and communication—through theatre, periodicals, public lectures, new technological spectacles, etc. (Lightman 2007) —was becoming rapidly fashionable, there were new and growing numbers of venues and ever-increasing audiences to hear such conflict-themed messages should the presenter/writer choose to include them.

The bulk of the misconception is most often associated with two end-of-nineteenth century American-dwelling writers who independently concluded very similar theses: Andrew Dickson White (1832–1918) and John William Draper (1811–82), who wrote The History of the Warfare of Science with Theology in Christendom (1896) and The History of the Conflict Between Science and Religion (1874), respectively. As the titles so boldly suggest, science and religion are in a state of warfare, fundamentally in conflict. These books were very popular, selling well across the United States and Europe. But, as the complexity model urges, the context of these two texts is important for understanding the claims made, and recent scholarship has shown just how contextual each case is. For example, both men were deeply critical of Catholicism as they were liberal Protestants (White was even cofounder of Cornell University).

However, while Whiggish history formulated the conflict thesis, it was a historian of science who provided the prominent framework for the field of science and religion, at least for humanities and social science scholars. This took shape in John Hedley Brooke’s (1991) Science and Religion: Some Historical Perspectives. Brooke offered us a framework, which Numbers (2010, 263) would title the “complexity thesis” in his review of Brooke’s “landmark book,” as the primary principle for science and religion humanities scholarship. This also opened the door for more scholars to engage in this topic directly, as prior research would typically touch on but not directly engage with science and religion (for example, Chadwick 1975).³ Complexity, as outlined in the introduction, urges the scholar to think about their own biases, widen the scope of their research to engage with as many variables as possible, and (critically, in my opinion) pay attention to the cultural and psychological contexts of those involved.

This complexity can be witnessed across fields and disciplines engaging with science and religion. For example, one area of contemporary philosophy on science and religion is an increasingly intricate nexus where science, theology, environmental thought, aesthetics, and ethics converge. A renewed Kantian interest in moral obligation intersects with Latour’s earlier insistence on according agent-like status to nonhuman entities: scholars such as Emily Brady (2013), Christopher K. Chapple (1993, 1994) and Mary Midgley (2004) contend that, once nature is conceived as an interdependent network on which humanity wholly relies, it must be scaffolded by a categorical-imperative-style duty to prevent environmental degradation, a view often articulated through Lovelock’s metaphor of “Gaia.” Such an interpretation can perhaps be seen as analogous to some theological moves dating back to William Paley’s (1802) Natural Theology and the Bridgewater Treatises of 1822 (Topham 2022). Yet, its most dynamic contemporary expression lies in environmental theology, where shifting cultural attitudes toward climate change has spurred theologians, such as Thomas R. Dunlap (2004), Paul Shutz (2019) and others, to reemphasize stewardship imperatives, echoing Carl Sagan’s (1990) early call for religious leadership in confronting ecological and existential threats. A similar momentum has arisen in the social sciences: in psychology, complex reciprocal perceptions between scientific and religious communities are a rich area of research. Elaine Howard Ecklund’s (2010; 2018; 2021) large scale mixed-methods programs exemplify how diversified empirical inquiry now complements philosophical and theological discourses, collectively underscoring the multifaceted entanglement of belief, knowledge, and moral responsibility in the twentyfirst century.

But, as mentioned, it is worth coming to terms with the fact that even though this field has published incredible, accessible introductions to science and religion as a topic of scholarly investigation, our work is not reaching the public in a way that dispels the misinformation of the many myths that exist. I argue in this article that one of the causes of this disconnect is that the medium from which the continued source of such misinformation arises is almost absent from academic discussions in groups engaged in science and religion. It is underappreciated just how intuitive the conflict thesis is. As Numbers’s volume speaks to, everyone knows Galileo went to jail for believing the Earth went around the sun, and everyone knows evolution is universally denied by the religious. However, as complexity urges us to consider, the real story is more complex than such conflict claims suggest. We must work to dispel these myths by approaching the very medium in which they are propagated.

Science and Religion in Popular Culture

That science and religion has not made much ground in popular culture is a problem that must be addressed. As stated, we must be willing to take seriously the texts and content, frameworks and theories used to probe popular culture, as it is the source location of the perpetually reproduced conflict thesis. As sociology has provided quantitative and qualitative data for the complexity principle, popular culture must be engaged with it as well.

The reasons for conflict framing in popular culture are mostly a matter of simple economics. The conflict narrative sells. Since the nineteenth century, the growing popularity of science presentations, the creation of cheap and accessible print leading to periodicals and newspapers en masse, the discoveries and theories of worldview-changing propositions by naturalists and natural philosophers and later scientists, along with the changing political attitudes sweeping across Europe and North America, have created ripe conditions for the questioning of religious establishments and the ideals of progress propagated by science and humanism. Religion was an easy target as a blockade in the way of scientific advance, since established religions in Europe—Catholicism and Protestantism—were increasingly suspect, perceived as overstepping their bounds of authority. That science was making naturalizing claims about human origins, cosmic scale, Earth dynamism, and more all touched on and literally went against Christian scripture. This convergence of differences and ideals occupies a unique space, simultaneously being what one is born into (Christianity as a source of stability and socialization) and what one hopes for the future (progress, patriotic pride, better living). As such, it is ripe for intuitive gestures of conflict, but more importantly, it speaks to issues everyone has thoughts on and likely a stake in. When articles were published in periodicals or newspapers, or shows demonstrated the latest “magics” of science, they sold well.

This historical precedent was a trendsetter, a “meme” in the sense first introduced by Richard Dawkins (1976), a cultural and historical artifact from a time of great hopes and great ambitions that still reveals itself today in popular culture. But the field of science and religion, for all its work written on the falsity of the conflict narrative, has yet to convince the population (or the rest of the academy for that matter [Lightman 2019]) that any interaction between science and religion is a complex set of contextual arrangements that cannot be simply categorized into a single descriptive, often incorrect, thesis.

Popular culture, media, communication, and other related fields of “studies” can contribute to science and religion by offering new analytic tools with which to assess the interactions between science and religion. For example, science and religion would likely benefit significantly from research that looked at participant attitudes and behaviors towards texts that deal with science and religion, revealing the biases before consumption, the interpretations after consumption, and whether such interpretations translate to embodied practices that carry forward into new modes of discourse with others, as per the so-called “Columbia School.”

Further, science and religion would benefit from being able to better engage with the role media has in shaping, motivating, and structuring our perceptions and thoughts as per the “Toronto School,” made notable by Marshall McLuhan. McLuhan has seen a revival since around 2010, one that has brought his work to bear on everything from surveillance (Evans 2015) to ecology (Rose 2016). However, what McLuhan got incorrect or overemphasized is not as crucial as his substantial work bringing to bear the importance of understanding how media shapes our lives. It is here that the field of science and religion has much to attend to.

Let us consider that in 2021, the average American spent 485 minutes per day using digital media services like social media platforms, web-based video content like streaming apps, YouTube, podcasts, and audiobooks. This should raise an eyebrow to media’s profound impact (Guttmann 2023). Many works have explored the lasting impact of popular culture (media generally), its narratives, and visuals on viewers; the way it shapes and alters culture; and its norms (Berger 1997; Herman et al. 2012). Moving away from the conflict thesis is not only sound regarding the scholarship but could potentially ease present tensions in the cultural sphere, perhaps even with the so-called “culture wars.” Moving away from conflict enforces a sensitivity to context, which demands thought and reflexivity, conversation and openness, attributes that can only contribute positively. Should the field of science and religion accept such studies into its fold, and actively engage with and encourage such research, then a real possibility for change could be at hand.

Echoing what John T. Caldwell (1995) claims in Televisuality, science and religion has had much more interest in “high theory,” symptomatic of the disciplines that make up the bulk of the field generally. Having closely experienced the professional makeup and interests of one of the premier societies on science and religion, and having been present since the inception of one of its newest societies, there is a noticeable, palpable difference between the two groups. One comprises historians, theologians, philosophers, and working scientists, while the other is mainly social sciences and “studies” fields (with some overlap in both). These worlds must be connected and brought to bear on each other, as the increased diversity only maximizes the potential for novel and valuable insights and contributions to the field.

Discussions have been increasingly prevalent lately on the use of the very terms “science” and “religion” for the field of “science and religion” and the problems such terms imply (Watts et al. 2022).⁴ While science communication and popularization are about science, two important questions arise when dealing with media and popular culture more generally regarding the field of science and religion: What counts as science, and what counts as religion? For myself, what I find helpful here is not thinking about religion and science as methods, worldviews, or cultures but as affects. This way, the focus is less on science per se and more on those things science influences in a wide range of affects. Religion too. Affects are not only subjective, emotion-based feelings and tingles, they are also embodied forms, ways in which, according to Brinkman (2014), affects are displayed through emotion-motivating themes. Affects are also, for Schaefer (2015), motivated embodied movements through space and time that become, through evolutionary paths, structural forms of religion (of emotive generating systems). Schaefer (2022) similarly challenges scientific knowledge, arguing that feeling is deeply embedded in rationality. Let us run with this idea of the affects of science and religion. This opens the doors to many possibilities of texts that may not directly deal with science or religion yet are religious, as S. Brent Plate (2017) would argue, or religiously inspired, and related to science, like science fiction, fantasy, radio, comedy, etc.

Lastly, I want to acknowledge that there are some strong examples of historians working in (or touching upon) the field of science and religion who do work with popular culture (broadly conceived), such as Bernard Lightman, Alexander Hall, Jonathan Topham, Ed Larson, James Secord, etc. The discipline of history provides a shield against perceptible gatekeeping of whatever it may be that keeps more scholarship on popular culture and media to the fringe of the field. I do not wish to point fingers but rather suggest a systemic, cultural practice I have noticed in the academy that I have made my task to overcome.

Case Study: Interstellar

The field of science and religion needs to embrace the scholarship of popular culture studies to more robustly tackle the continued abrasiveness of the conflict thesis. This work needs to be systematically approached by opening doors for a wider degree of scholars and scholarship that do not necessarily fit within the “defined” borders of what the established groups conceive religion to be. One way to bring those established groups into dialogue with popular culture studies is by creating an example of scholarship that borrows from science and religion and applies it to popular culture. This is my task now. Using the example of Christopher Nolan’s 2011 film Interstellar, I aim to show how science and religion discourses are at play in the film, what the function of those portrayals may be, and why this film represents and affirms the complexity principle.

Christopher Nolan is well known for presenting complex concepts and interesting, conversational topics from philosophy as central components of his films’ narrative. Nolan’s 2011 film Interstellar is no different, as it explores topics of human nature, time, STEM, love, and motivation to tell the story of the end of the world and humanity’s attempt to save itself. Interstellar is an example of “hard science fiction” in that science and those things science details are depicted as accurate or (in)world-accurate. The primary plot revolves around this basis. At the same time, however, the use of science portrays what I argue is a highly suggestive Christian-influenced narrative that is very conscious of its relationship with theological motifs. I have narrowed these motifs to the following Christian symbols: the Holy Trinity, Adam and Eve, divine “supernatural” beings (angels), and death and resurrection. Each of these is housed within a scientific fact or speculative theory, yet is used to reflect Christian theological doctrine.

The Holy Trinity is a central component of the Christian faith. Coming to prominence after the Council of Nicaea in 325 CE, the Greek term homoousios was pronounced to denote the oneness of the three entities of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit (Beatrice 2002). After the fall of the Roman Empire, the Latin word trinitas, meaning threefold, became the standard term to refer to the three persons or entities of Christian belief (Beatrice 2002). While there is still debate among some theologians as to the proper interpretation of the Trinity, generally, it can be understood that the three components of the Trinity are, in fact, one God but in three distinct forms, so that all things are “from the Father, through the Son, and in the Holy Spirit” (The Holy See). That Jesus Christ is the Son of God (Luke 3:22) (literally the central pillar of ‘Christ’-ianity) reflects the manifestation of God in flesh and blood upon His Creation. While Christ is the Son, he is not subordinate but equal (John 1:1). It can be understood that “It is the Father who generates, the Son who is begotten, and the Holy Spirit who proceeds” (The Holy See). Together, they symbolically reflect the three visual components of the crucifixion of Christ, which is physically mapped out in the ritual of the trinitarian formula.

In the film Interstellar, the Holy Trinity is represented in such a way as to reconfigure the mapping of the Trinity to fit the secular content of the film while retaining its highly suggestive Christian symbolism. I offer that the Trinity is expressed by the characters of Coop, Murph, and the “laws of nature,” which science reveals and all abide by. Coop, the protagonist of the film, is the father of Murph. The film’s first act takes place on Earth, where Coop, a farmer, looks out for his family as best he can while the world suffers from a global food crisis due to blight. Murph is Coop’s daughter, a young girl of incredible intellect, nurtured by her father’s love, bearing, and STEM approach. However, the desperate mission to save humanity pulls them apart when she is only eleven, and, due to the power of gravity and its effect on time, when the mission is challenged by one of the crew members, twenty-three years pass in a matter of minutes. Thus, she is separated from her father for most of the film, and her life.

During Coop’s absence from Murph, Professor Brand (Dr. Brand’s father) looks after Murph. Since he is the lead scientist at what remains of NASA, Murph is encouraged to pursue intellectual discourses, specifically theoretical physics. When the audience sees Murph as an adult for the first time, she is a physicist working for Professor Brand, helping him try to solve the “problem of gravity,” which would allow for massive objects to break free from Earth’s gravity, thus saving those alive on Earth (Plan A). Murph’s role as a scientist is important not only for the plot but also for revealing the final component of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit. In this film, the Holy Spirit can be understood as the universal laws of nature, made clear by the constant references to, and extensive use of, gravity and time in the plot. One of the film’s centerpieces is the supermassive black hole, Gargantua—the literal, physical embodiment of space–time. The theology of this film, that which probes the Holy Spirit (read: laws of nature), therefore, is physics, the basis of the “religion” of science.

Another tenet of the Christian faith played on in Interstellar is the first man and woman: Adam and Eve. In the Hebrew Bible/Christian Old Testament, this story is found in Genesis. Adam, and later Eve, are created by God in his image to live in the Garden of Eden as stewards of creation (Genesis 2:15). Living in innocence and with humility, Eve is tempted by a serpent to eat a fruit from the forbidden tree (Genesis 3:1). Plucking the fruit and sharing it with Adam, their eating of the fruit granted them knowledge beyond what was available to them by merely existing as per God’s wishes, but part of the knowledge was that of the vices, including shame in their nakedness (Genesis 3:6–7). God, deeply disappointed by their defiance, banished the first couple from Eden, forever condemning humanity to the pains of mortality (Genesis 3:16–22). After leaving Eden, Adam and Eve wandered creation until giving birth to their first children, and the first of the Genesis genealogy, Cain and Abel, later followed by Seth, thus beginning the genealogy of humanity (Genesis 4:1–25).

The Earth represents the Garden of Eden in the film Interstellar. Coop, speaking to his father-in-law, calls the Earth a “treasure,” similar to the details used to describe Eden in Genesis (1:28–31), but that it “has been telling us to leave for a while now,” as the toll of human activity had “plucked” the fertility of Earth, causing irreversible consequences. The cost of human activity unchecked by forward-thinking, progressive, and actively conscious policy to protect the biosphere of Earth has irrevocably damaged the fertility of the Earth, causing an unknown blight to drive Earth’s plant life to extinction systematically. Viewers are told in the film that Murph (as a child) will be the last generation.

The Earth, due to reckless and unchecked exploitation, has become infertile and is “forcing” humanity to either leave or die. Like Eden, human practices have caused humanity to be ejected from their home once again. However, in Interstellar, it is science (read: knowledge) that may be humanity’s salvation, allowing the species to survive beyond the design capacity of its evolution. It is knowledge that is key to humanity’s survival, something that New Atheists, for example, would claim is a truism, but here it is used as an interesting twist on the classical biblical narrative, like how the Son is now the Daughter.⁵

Later in the film, it is revealed that the human species’ fate was sealed when the team left Earth because Professor Brand knew the gravity equation for Plan A could not be solved. After some critical character developments lead to a surprise confrontation that leaves Coop and Brand (with two AI companions named TARS and CASE) the last two humans alive on the mission, with a room full of human DNA samples, they are solely responsible for the survival of the human species. The two astronauts become Adam and Eve, the literal father and mother of the new population of the human species. However, Coop disagrees with Plan B due to its complete abandonment of those still on Earth. Coop decides that NASA (read: authority) is wrong and that condemning the remaining humans on Earth to die is unacceptable without doing everything he can to try and save them.

In the secular sense, supernatural beings are the biblical canon entities of divine origin. In the Abrahamic religions, such supernatural beings are most associated with angels, referenced in all the significant works of the Abrahamic lineage. Angels are the link between the divine and the mortal, acting as messengers, protectors, or guides to the human “heroes” of religious faith. Angels of the New Testament are present, for example, during the birth of Jesus Christ (Matthew 1:20–25), during his trial against the temptations of Satan (Matthew 4:1–11), and at his death (Luke 22:43), acting as foreshadowing metaphors for the importance of the event or divine aid at critical times of need. Angels have since become very popular subjects in both high and popular culture. For example, the works of Michelangelo (1475–1564) and Raphael (1483–1520) are well known for the use of angels, notably in The Last Judgement (1541) and Sistine Madonna (1512), respectively. Furthermore, the Precious Moments collection series, widely popular in the 1980s and 1990s, relied primarily on Christian imagery of angels for their collectors’ pieces.

In Interstellar, supernatural beings are referred to by the main characters as “them.” This “them” is speculated by the characters after Coop first discovers NASA (believed to have shut down) as being extra-dimensional beings capable of manipulating and controlling space–time, who opened a wormhole near Saturn to a location in another part of the galaxy with planets that could support life. These “them” would therefore appear to be manipulating the future of humanity by guiding their efforts to save themselves, acting directly through the laws of nature (the Holy Spirit) to aid humanity’s most desperate hour.

When the astronauts finally make it to the wormhole purportedly created by these extra-dimensional superbeings, they begin their descent into it by passing through the “bulk,” the transition between points in space beyond space–time’s standard dimensions. It is here that first contact with the beings occurs. There is a moment when a distortion appears near Dr. Brand and, extending her hand toward it, the distortion and Dr. Brand seem to hold together for a moment. Upon fully transitioning to the other side of the wormhole, one of the crew asks Dr. Brand what that was, to which she replies, “a handshake.”

This scene reflects the famous section of the fresco painting by Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel known as The Creation of Adam (c. 1512). This section of the ceiling depicts God, surrounded by angels, reaching out and pointing towards the newly created Adam, who lies upon the grassy fields of creation. While the two do not touch, this most famous painting demonstrates the creation of Adam and the connection between the divine (read: “them”) and humanity. The handshake in Interstellar seems to reflect some kind of relationship shared between the “them” and the human crew. A handshake is a strictly human practice, and though not practiced by all cultures across the globe, it is widely recognized.

While the Holy Trinity, Adam and Eve, and divine beings are no doubt important components of the Christian faith, the resurrection of Jesus Christ following his crucifixion is the most important for Christianity. Jesus appeared to his followers three days after his crucifixion, talking with them, joining them to eat (Luke 24:30), and allowing them to see the holes in his hands and side (Luke 24:39). Forty days after his resurrection, Jesus ascended to heaven to be at the right side of the Father (Acts 1:3–9). The resurrection of Jesus Christ is the miracle of faith that provides the foundation of belief in not only the validity of Jesus’s position as the Son of God but also that the sin of humanity in its ignorance was and can be forgiven, representing the ultimate of both sacrifice and forgiveness (Luke 24:46–47). The example Jesus provided has been the prototypical representation of what a good Christian should strive to be. In the practice of Christian faith, one may be forgiven of sin by trusting in God and repenting, being able to be spiritually resurrected as Jesus had been of the body (2 Corinthians 5:16–18).

In Interstellar, this central tenet of the Christian faith is also explored, and some of the threads established in the previous themes are tied up. Near the film’s end, only Coop and Dr. Brand are left alive (along with the robots TARS and CASE). All options seemingly extinguished for Plan A (solving the gravity problem), Coop and Dr. Brand plan to use the gravity of the supermassive blackhole Gargantua to “slingshot” their spacecraft to the final planet where humanity could establish a new home. With little fuel left, the slingshot maneuver will use the gravity of Gargantua and the remaining fuel in their landing craft to accelerate toward the final planet.

While passing Gargantua, it is revealed that for the mission to succeed, both landing craft (used as boosters) must be ejected from the spacecraft to reduce mass and maintain escape velocity. However, each landing craft must be manually ejected, meaning that TARS and Coop must sacrifice themselves for the mission to continue. Not known to Dr. Brand or the audience, she pleads with Coop to think of an alternative and not leave her. Coop references their agreement to be only ninety percent honest with each other and quotes Isaac Newton’s third law (for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction). He then detaches from the spacecraft, giving the future of humanity the best chance with the spacecraft carrying Dr. Brand and the vault of human DNA safely away from the gravity of Gargantua.

Coop sacrifices himself for the greater good of the human species. Coop’s reference to Newton’s third law has little to do with the physics of the events occurring while he said the words but more with the psychological events occurring at the time. To begin with, Coop’s primary determination for undertaking the mission was to save his family. Upon realizing he cannot return to the Earth, Coop refocuses on ensuring the human species survives (hence, leaving something behind). This act allows Dr. Brand to escape Gargantua’s tremendous gravity and make it safely to the final planet, revealed to viewers at the film’s end. Coop allows himself to be sacrificed so that humanity may survive.

However, plunging into the spinning supermassive blackhole is not the end of Coop. He finds himself in a strange place of string-like images repeated ad infinitum, including, surprisingly, Murph’s bedroom before he leaves on the mission. Coop is scared, confused, and alone. Coop does not know how to process what he is experiencing. But then, to his great fortune and relief, TARS appears on comms (TARS ejected in the first landing craft). TARS helps Coop understand that what he sees is a construction of a dimension beyond space and time, and that the “them” must be able to construct such a system that reveals time as a physical representation of space.

Coop then understands why he is seeing his daughter’s room. At the film’s beginning, the young Murph claimed a ghost lived in her bedroom, causing strange phenomena with sand and pushing specific books off her shelf. It is now made clear the ghost was Coop. Manipulating the force of gravity, Coop had been drawing Murph’s attention to random anomalies of gravity since she was young. Coop realizes he was/is the ghost and that the “them” made this strange time structure for Coop to help Murph save the world by manipulating natural law. Coop transmits the black hole data to Murph through the watch he gave her before he left. Since he has been transferring the data since she was a child, in the real time (the present of the film), Murph has the revelation while fatefully visiting her room one last time as an adult. Recalling the watch Coop gave her as a child, she realizes the second hand is transmitting Morse code, and after translating the code, shouts “eureka,” as the missing component of the gravity equation had now been discovered.

With the data transmitted, the time structure begins to collapse. As it does, Coop realizes the “them” are humans from the distant future who have used science to understand space and time to such a degree as to allow for control at an intra-dimensional scale. The screen goes white, and Coop finds himself back in the “bulk” with the spacecraft he entered the “bulk” in moving toward him. He extends his hand here, and Dr. Brand reaches out, and they touch. The screen goes black again, and when it comes back, Coop is floating near Saturn, where the wormhole once was, with a small shuttle approaching him. He then wakes up in a hospital on a massive space station, and the film concludes with Coop seeing Murph one last time, very old and dying, surrounded by her family, and Coop heading back out to find Dr. Brand.

Coop’s sacrifice leading to his “death,” followed by his manipulation of space–time revealing that he was the “them” who shook hands with Dr. Brand and also the ghost Murph reported, brings together much of what was discussed earlier. Like God and his use of his angels, Coop is omnipresent at the most critical moments of humanity’s need, acting through the laws of nature to guide Murph (the Daughter/Son) to the revelation that saves humanity. Murph is shown to have a lifecycle; much like Jesus, she is born, lives, contributes the most important act for humanity at age thirty-five, and eventually dies. In contrast, Coop, as the Father, doesn’t age at all in the film due to the effects of gravity on time (laws of nature). But crucially, it is not only science that saves humanity but love as well.

The role of love in Interstellar is an interesting site for exploring the complexity of the relationship between science and religion in popular culture. Love is the metaphysical “stuff” that binds the characters together—Coop, Murph, and Dr. Brand. Love keeps these characters connected through space and time like threads in a blanket. When the mission faces a great challenge and loss, the astronauts discuss their next move, and Dr. Brand chooses “Edmunds’ Planet” (named for the scientist who went to scout it). It is revealed that Dr. Brand was in a relationship with Dr. Edmunds. It is suggested that Dr. Brand should consider her motivations biased. Dr. Brand, however, retorts that “love is observable . . . powerful . . . love is the one thing we are capable of perceiving that can transcend time and space.” Dr. Brand further suggests that love is perhaps an artifact of unknown dimensions. She offers that the crew should trust these unknowns rather than the clear message being received from the one other planet left, “Mann’s Planet.” Dr. Brand’s intuitions go directly against the data available (Mann set off his “Good Location” beacon), thereby creating a tension between trusting data and trusting intuition, in this case informed by love.

Love and trusting in love are important aspects of the Christian faith, especially amongst Protestants. Throughout the Bible, but especially in Corinthians, claims of the importance of love for one another, from and for God, and the power of love are made, as in 1 Corinthians 13. It is God’s love that nourishes the Earth, and it is love that holds God in and to the people. Love transcends, bringing one as close to God as possible, as God is love, and to love is to be in accordance with God and to know him (1 John 4). Many examples in the Bible speak of the importance of love, not only of and for God, but especially of and for Jesus, along with lessons for how to treat others.

The love Coop has for Murph visually culminates in the end sequence, presenting a complicated presentation of time as physical space. After sacrificing himself to boost Dr. Brand and the Endeavour spaceship to safety away from Gargantua to save humanity (an act of love), Coop (and TARS in the other landing craft) gets swallowed into Gargantua and emerges into a complicated matrix of Murph endlessly shown throughout her childhood in her bedroom. Coop discovers that he was/is her “ghost” and is there to give the critical data missing from within the black hole that will solve the “gravity problem.” Thus, love transcends time and space, saving everyone back on Earth and fulfilling Plan A.

While not all elements align perfectly, this is part of what scholars working on re-enchantment often call “reoccupation,” borrowing from Hans Blumenberg (1985). Secular stories, such as Interstellar, harken back to elements of narratives that have contributed to the bedrock of ways of living, altering them to befit the present knowledge and values of the culture. I have analyzed the film Interstellar and how it uses science and secular understandings of the world to weave a narrative deeply influenced by theological and biblical elements. This seems to have been the explicit desire of Nolan, for in the special features of the Blu-ray version of the film, he discusses, for example, selecting the church organ as the primary instrument for the film’s score because he wanted the film to have “a sense of religiosity” (Nolan 2014). This summarizes wonderfully what the film in its entirety expresses.

I have been building the case that Interstellar uses Christian narrative elements in interesting ways to create a seemingly secular story that follows a tradition of “hard science fiction.” However, upon inspecting the themes and narrative elements at play, we find a story that uses the building blocks of Christian theology to engage, motivate, and affect the audience by using familiar tropes but in new, surprising ways. This is a clear example of complexity. As discussed, science and religion do not operate in a single mode of engagement, as the conflict thesis suggests. Instead, the interactions are varied and unique depending on contextual circumstances, changing from one moment in time to the next. Interstellar shows complexity by bringing Christian theology and biblical themes into its story without suggesting conflict (or even reference to religion). Instead, what is shown seems to be an operative mode of establishing a new sense of the transcendent (through theoretical uses of space–time) and empowerment of those thematical aspects of humanity that stand as testaments of biblical goodness—love, sacrifice, ingenuity, wisdom, and faith.

When the mission is at its most dire moment and the possibility of success seems unlikely, Coop decides to sacrifice himself for the future of humanity, allowing forgiveness and hope to enter into his thoughts, giving humanity (which had erred [sinned] and “corrupted” the world to an inhospitable waste) the chance to live again in a new “Eden” and be born of that world (via artificial cell growth). Interestingly, however, in the film’s final moments, when Coop can see Murph one last time as she lies on a hospital bed, surrounded by her family and friends, old and ready to die, the hero in the film world is not Coop, but Murph. Murph tells her father that she told everyone that he was her “ghost” who gave her the information needed to solve the problem of gravity, but “no one believed [her]. They all thought [she] was doing it [her]self.”

This ending reveals deliberate, thoughtful choices by Nolan et al. to emphasize two points worth mentioning. The first is that the theories of science, encroaching at times upon the awesome and unimaginable, are not readily accessible by everyday experience and intuitive sense. Science and the “stuff” it reveals depend on, to some extent, faith, as the complexities, expertise, time, and resources required to validate science empirically are not possible for individuals. This is similar to what Bas van Fraassen (1980) calls “Constructive Empiricism.” The second, closely connected, is that the “ghosts” or supernatural entities referred to were nothing more than Coop and human beings from the distant future, suggesting two subpoints: that intuitions and what we believe to be true, though helpful, can be incorrect, and that the supernatural (or magic, even) may be indiscernible to us from science far beyond ours (a trope played on commonly in science fiction and fantasy, such as Star Trek, Star Wars, and Marvel’s Cinematic Universe).

The themes I have outlined from Interstellar subvert the common misconception that science and Christianity (and religion generally) are at odds. There is no explicit reference to religion in Interstellar because there is no explicit conflict between them, at least in the purview of the film. Nolan’s intention to give the film a sense of “religiosity” suggests that he understands the powerful affect religion can have on individuals should they hold faith. However, in the case of Interstellar, Nolan appears suggest that religiosity, reflected in the strength of character and civilization, can be achieved through secular means, i.e., science, knowledge, compassion, etc. This is critical to investigate further, as it is no longer the case that statistically insignificant minorities of people do not believe in God, as recent census data from the UK and Canada have shown.

This is an invitation for scholars to look at the myths and narratives used and expressed in popular culture that either express religion—directly or indirectly through affects, themes, symbols, etc.—and science to understand better what this informative and compelling media that millions of people consume each month is showing to their audiences. Growing numbers of people claim to be “spiritual but not religious”; some find their place in the cosmos to be spiritually nourishing. Interstellar is an example of a text that seeks to bridge the divide between the secular and the spiritual using science as the mechanism of revelation and salvation.

Conclusion

This article serves as a preliminary statement on the claims from the field of science and religion and popular culture and how the two ought to be brought into conversation more directly. My hope in writing this and creating this thematic section for Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science is to bring popular culture into focus in a field that has largely missed this critical area of everyday life, as well as to bring some curiosity to this area. Regardless of the complexity principles and despite repeated attempts to claim that the conflict thesis does not hold universally, the conflict thesis continues to replicate in popular culture. I have argued that science and religion must engage with popular culture to ensure that any interaction is understood as complex and must be explored contextually. I surveyed some of the events and themes of the film Interstellar to draw out the use of Christian theology and spiritualism in a hard science fiction film. I argued that this was done intentionally to “reoccupy” long-held values via secular means. I hope that any scholar interested in science, religion, and popular culture will help push the boundaries of our field further than we have before.

As mentioned in the introduction, this article was written as an introduction for scholars in the fields of popular culture studies, media, and humanities more generally. I organized two sessions and started a new “area” within the Popular Culture Association (PCA) for its 2023 conference in San Antonio, Texas. While there has long been an area in PCA for science and popular culture and an area for religion and popular culture, there has never been one for science and religion in popular culture. I found this confusing, given the vital role popular culture plays in knowledge and opinion distribution and the relative popularity of discourse on science and religion (think the “big questions”). Popular culture, and all that it entails, is a rich source of data that holds sway and influence on the mass public as well as in smaller, more niche circles, whether that influence comes from massive blockbusters that take in over one billion US dollars, arthouse films, television programs for kids and/or adults, or online communities gathering around strange new worlds. Science and religion studies must attempt to enter into and embrace dialogue with areas as powerful, far-reaching, and diverse as popular culture.

What follows in this collection are articles that were submitted for presentation at those sessions I organized at both the PCA meeting mentioned and (only a few months later) at the International Research Network for Science and Belief in Society’s annual conference held in Exeter, UK. These articles are situated at the boundaries of science and religion work but are nonetheless a part of the conversation. Our task at these meetings was to draw out the connections to realize just how vast the field of science and religion can be, to stretch out and see how far the horizon can reach. In setting up these groups, I was shown just how diverse, engaging, and insightful scholarship on popular culture can be when it makes contact with science and religion as a field.

As the Executive Assistant for the International Society for Science and Religion, I am privileged to regularly contact active scholars in the field. My time organizing these sessions and collecting these articles has revealed that science and religion in popular culture generally has received too little attention from scholars in our field. However, there are signs of change. Given popular culture media’s power and influence on everyday perceptions, we must take this area of popular content more seriously.