IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD

Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth, ... when the morning stars sang together...? ~ Job 38:7

I find a mystical connection among and between science, theology and poetry. I mean "mystical" quite literally (if the word "mystical" can, in fact, be used literally): That is, it is a connection that is difficult to get hold of or put into words (not that that's going to stop me from trying). The connection of which I speak is not the usual "dialogue" between science and religion, and it is not a covert or overt attempt to use science to prove theology or vice-versa. It is rather an interplay in which the one can almost stand in for the other, or a composition in which they sing in harmony (the harmony and the individual parts being a unity and separate at the same time). And the voice of the song -- the language that describes the interplay -- is poetry.

For the purposes of this discussion I define "science" as the limitless searchings of physics and cosmology, with infinity as the nexus at which it meets theology. "Let there be light" and the"big bang" of the primal explosion each speak of ultimate beginnings which are really penultimate (what was there before...?), and they are each metaphors -- poetic expression.

Here's one of those mystical connections: The "word" referred to in John's gospel ("In the beginning was the word") is both the utterance "let there be light" and the one who uttered it: the Word. The primal explosion of the big bang is an explosion of light -- the light brought into being by the word. Physics and Metaphysics. The element that strings it all together? Poetry. Perhaps there at the beginning before the beginning is not a micro-micro-nano-particle, but a word.

Another take: Deuteronomy reports, "The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms," and Einstein assures us of the conservation of matter and energy (nothing is lost). I am a Bible-believing Christian (the perspective from which I write), but my belief in eternal life is fed as much by the physics as by the Bible. A poetic view allows us to posit that they are saying the same thing. (As is Norman Maclean, in the absolutely beautiful last lines of A River Runs Through It: "Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.")

I am haunted by the cosmology of faith and the faith of cosmology. The language (the words) of the haunting is poetry. Here's A.R. Ammons:

This is just a place.

We go our round distance yearly in a star’s atmosphere,

turning daily into and out of direct light

and slanting through the quadrant seasons.

Deep space begins at our heels,

nearly rousing us loose.

We look up or out so high

sight’s silk almost draws us away.

This is just a place.

Currents worry themselves, coiled and free,

in airs and oceans;

Water picks up mineral shadow

and plasm into billions of designs:

frames trees, grains, bacteria.

But is love a reality we made here ourselves?

And grief – did we design that?

Or do these, like currents,

wind in and out among us merely

as we arrive and go?

This is just a place.

The reality we agree with that agrees with us,

outbounding this, arrives to touch,

joining with us from far away.

Our home, which defines us, is elsewhere

(but not so far away we have forgotten).

This is just a place.

If the conservation of matter and energy only allows for eternal life to be infinitely recycled stardust, so be it -- infinity is infinity. But if we stir in the possibility that the whole schmere is God's love project, then it is stardust held in the everlasting arms. I can live with that.

We must become more than what is left of our bodies

And will see and become what is always
Rushing toward us and around us. (David Wagoner)

citations:
A River Runs Through It, by Norman Maclean, University of Chicago Press, 2001

In Memoriam For May Noblett (This is just a place), A.R. Ammons

How It Will Be, David Wagoner

SO, MAYBE I AM A KNEE-JERK LIBERAL AFTER ALL!

Since reading a few tentative reports a while back, I've been intrigued by the possibility that our faith response and our degree of liberal or conservative persuasion may be at least in part directed by our genes. (The links in the sentence above are representative articles; there are more scholarly publications available, but these summarize the ideas.) As I interpret it, the research on political tendencies does not suggest the existence of a "republican gene" and a "democratic gene," but rather points to genetically-influenced differences in how we think about problems, approach difficulties, etc., leading to life-long patterns that tend toward conservatism or liberalism.

The faith research is grounded in part on twins studies that demonstrate -- among other things -- that identical twins maintain similar approaches to faith into and throughout adulthood, while fraternal twins are less likely to do so. Both sides of the "is there a God" debate use this research to support their cause: It's all just biology, so there goes God; or, this genetic pointer reveals the divine because there is a divine to be revealed -- it is a way to draw us into relationship with God.

Those arguments aside, I find that the genetic theory offers some creative hope in dealing with human differences. It could have the effect of changing the tenor of our political conversations from, "How can you be so stupid?" to "Vive la difference!" Some politicians are fond of saying that we need a strong opposition in order to keep the debate vigorous and honest. If the genetic construct is demonstrated to be true, that idea will prove to be an organic inevitability.

This is not an exercise in celebrating science as savior. It would not eliminate cynicism or even meanness from politics. (He can't help himself -- he's a conservative -- nyah nyah nya nyaah nyahh...!") And one could imagine "Brave New World" sci-fi scenarios in which one side gets the upper hand and labels the other persuasion as a "genetic deficiency," imprisoning their opponents in political reservations, or forcing "corrective" genetic surgery on them. (Hey... I might be on to something here!) It seems that human history, including the history of the application of science, leaves as an open question the postulation of whether a confirmed genetics of politics would produce more positive than negative consequences. Reader?

Regarding faith, the notion that some may be genetically incapable of it would lend credence to that strong scriptural theme that God wills and works for the salvation of all as an act of pure grace. (And that those who are genetically "blessed" are here to serve the rest?)

Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief. ~ A desperate man, to Jesus, in Mark 9:24

SO MANY LECTURES, SO LITTLE TIME

I've always appreciated a good academic or theological lecture. (If a speaker interrupts his discourse by saying, "Now, please turn to your neighbor and discuss for ten minutes...," that's a good time for a coffee break; I've come to hear the professor -- what can Mrs. McGillicuddey possibly add?) I have recently discovered that a number of my favorite books have their origins as lecture series. The most recent is Terry Eagleton's "Reason, Faith, and Revolution" (the 2008 Yale Terry Lectures -- nothing to do with the author's first name, a coincidence he has some fun with in his introductory remarks). Others are P.T. Forsyth's "The Work of Christ" (Norfolk Lectures, 1909), Alfred North Whitehead's, "Science and the Modern World" (The Lowell Lectures, Harvard, 1925), and "Process and Reality" (The Gifford Lectures, Edinburgh, 1927), and Charles Taylor's "A Secular Age" (Gifford Lectures, 1999).

The Terry Lectures (which happen to be concluding this very week) are open to the public, as I would suppose many such presentations are. Yale makes some of the lectures available as internet video, and it looks as though this will be the case for their current series. The Yale Terry Lectures site is here.

It occurred to me a while back that a pleasant pursuit in one's (that is, my) leisure years would be to attend various books and arts festivals around the globe. To this I will now add a peripatetic following of lecture series.

("Peripatetic," of course, is the word, because sometimes one must walk... out. Like the lecture I stumbled into while visiting Oxford a few years ago: "Science and Post-Modernity." Dr. Throgbottom spent the first twenty-five minutes discussing the difference between "post-modernity" and "post-modernism." Feet, don't fail me now....)