The following post was originally published one year ago today, on Earth Day, 2008. I still find it very appropriate, so am republishing it for Earth Day, 2009. Happy Earth Day, everybody!
Raima Larter, Abbess, The Urban Abbey
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“We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life…”
In my “other life” I am a scientist. Throughout my career I have studied how it is that life can arise from seemingly inert matter. My work has focused on trying to find what it is that drives atoms and molecules together into the complex forms we know as DNA, proteins, cells, tissues, and organs. How do atoms and molecules arrange themselves into entire organisms that live and move and even think? Scientists call this a “big question” but, so far, we do not have an answer. We do, though, have a name for the process by which this miraculous thing happens: we call it Emergence.
What could be a bigger question than how life emerges from molecules? Well, how about this one: Where did the molecules come from? Physicists have recently determined that the sum total of all the atoms and molecules in all the planets, stars and galaxies accounts for only 4% of all the “stuff” of which the universe is made. About 22% of the rest is something called Dark Matter while the remaining 74% is Dark Energy, neither of which is well understood. Astrophysicists say that, at some point in our universe’s history, ordinary matter emerged from dark matter and energy in a process somewhat like cooling a pool of water to 32 degrees. The ice that forms is the ordinary matter solidifying from this watery, mysterious dark “stuff.” The newly solid ordinary matter goes on to collect into stars and galaxies and planets—and eventually us.
To me, this is miraculous. Both the fact that it happened and the mechanism by which it happened are awe-inspiring. How could a thinking person not be awe-struck by the complex and intricate process that happened in just such a way that you can now sit here and read this essay with eyes and brains made of molecules that used to be dark matter?
The late Alan Watts, a mystic, one-time Episcopal priest and prolific author (among other things), described the planet Earth as “peopling” in the same way that an apple tree apples. He imagined visitors from outer space, out touring the neighborhood and looking for signs of intelligent life, but bypassing the early earth with not so much as a glance, saying, “It’s just a bunch of rocks.” Several million years later when they come around again, they stop, pointing and say, “We thought this planet was just a bunch of rocks—but, look! It’s peopling. It must be intelligent after all.” [Alan Watts, “The Book On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are,” Random House, 1966]
So where is God in this? As the creed says, we believe in the Holy Spirit, the giver of life. Is God the explanation for all the gaps in the scientific creation story? (Just what is that dark matter, anyway?) A “God of the gaps” who enters our faith only when science has not progressed far enough to answer all the questions will ultimately disappoint us, since the gaps will eventually be filled.
I confess that I once was very bothered by the seeming gap between science and religion, but I have come to see the two approaches to “asking the big questions” as equally valid, and to understand my own self as one whole, integrated human being who can marvel at the miraculousness of life in all its minute detail and simultaneously praise the One who made all this possible. God cannot be separated from life. God is in every part of life: in our bodies and minds, in our cells—even in our molecules! The universe is alive and we have been blessed with brains that allow us to know this.
I leave you with a quote from Rumi [“Teachings of Rumi,” Andrew Harvey, Ed., Shambhala Press, 1999], a great poet who seemed, every day, to catch a glimpse of the majesty of God and think to write it down:
“How can I — or anyone else — ever cease being astounded
That He whom nothing can contain is contained in the heart?”
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Walking The Airport In Easter
As I write this I am in transit on a business trip, waiting between flights in Minneapolis. To pass the time I took a walk around the airport. Sitting down and pondering how different my routine is today I was struck, at first with how I missed the trees, flowers, rocks, and streams I pass every day. Then I thought about my surroundings: I am sitting amongst millions of years of God’s work and creation. I am sitting on a seat made from plants and animals, there are carefully cut and polished rocks beside me. Hidden above and below is iron, limestone, aluminum and many other elements, minerals, and compounds.
Perfect? No. We don’t always use the resources God has provided prudently. We often don’t re-use them when we have finished. Sometimes we don’t even recognize what has been provided. (When looking at plastic how often do we remember the living, breathing, growing plants and animals that absorbed the energy from the sun, fixed carbon from the air, and reached a natural end to a God given life?)
We have used the resources God provides for many purposes. While surrounded by these creatures, plants and rocks from the past, both distant and near, families and individuals, couples and groups pass me. We come from all around the world; we leave for places both familiar and new.
For many of us this is a week both familiar and new just as the destinations my fellow travelers and I venture to. Sunday was Easter, the day we remember and relive the Resurrection of our Lord. I grew up celebrating Easter, so much is familiar. Each year we also encounter new people and new events, our lives include different births and deaths, joys and sorrows, all reminding us how our lives are constant voyages of discovery, change and growth.
Today I must remember to thank God for the familiar and the new, the ancient, the old, and the just arrived. Join me and raise joyful thanks for all God provides and does.
Perfect? No. We don’t always use the resources God has provided prudently. We often don’t re-use them when we have finished. Sometimes we don’t even recognize what has been provided. (When looking at plastic how often do we remember the living, breathing, growing plants and animals that absorbed the energy from the sun, fixed carbon from the air, and reached a natural end to a God given life?)
We have used the resources God provides for many purposes. While surrounded by these creatures, plants and rocks from the past, both distant and near, families and individuals, couples and groups pass me. We come from all around the world; we leave for places both familiar and new.
For many of us this is a week both familiar and new just as the destinations my fellow travelers and I venture to. Sunday was Easter, the day we remember and relive the Resurrection of our Lord. I grew up celebrating Easter, so much is familiar. Each year we also encounter new people and new events, our lives include different births and deaths, joys and sorrows, all reminding us how our lives are constant voyages of discovery, change and growth.
Today I must remember to thank God for the familiar and the new, the ancient, the old, and the just arrived. Join me and raise joyful thanks for all God provides and does.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
An Echo Chamber For The Word of God
In the new book Seeking Life, The Baptismal Invitation of the Rule of St. Benedict (2009) Esther De Waal reflects on how St. Benedict outlines a way of living where we continually seek to live lives more in line with God.
The complete quote, on page 65, reads "'The entire monastery -- and in microcosm the heart of each monk - is nothing more than an echo chamber for the word of God...each monastery, each monk, each Christian becomes a house of God...'" I find this image of being an echo chamber for the word of God both comfortable and challenging.
Are there places, times, and activities where you sometimes pause and hear God's word seemingly right next to you? Perhaps you are like me and more often than not hear the echos fading away, since we forgot to be quiet after asking God a question...
The complete quote, on page 65, reads "'The entire monastery -- and in microcosm the heart of each monk - is nothing more than an echo chamber for the word of God...each monastery, each monk, each Christian becomes a house of God...'" I find this image of being an echo chamber for the word of God both comfortable and challenging.
Are there places, times, and activities where you sometimes pause and hear God's word seemingly right next to you? Perhaps you are like me and more often than not hear the echos fading away, since we forgot to be quiet after asking God a question...
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