Photo of ruins in Jordan by Chris Glaser.
I’ve
written before that I am at “that age” when you look for connections, a time late
in life indicated by recent studies. Regular readers will know that,
during my morning prayers these days, I’ve been slowly absorbing Fritjof
Capra’s 1975 book, The Tao of Physics.
I find physicist Capra’s writing more accessible than that of Stephen Hawking,
though I wonder how dated his science may be today, even as he demonstrates a
pretty thorough understanding of Eastern spirituality.
His
recurrent theme is that Western science has come to similar conclusions as
ancient, mystical Eastern philosophy. Among them, that reality is indivisible,
that the observed cannot be separated from the observer, that a particular
scientific analysis is not intrinsic in nature but a creation of the human
mind.
Now
along comes a New York Times magazine
article entitled, “Bruno Latour, the Post-Truth Philosopher, Mounts a Defense of Science,” about deconstructionist Latour’s similar conclusions about the
nature of science after studying scientists in their “natural habitats,” much
like a scientist might study other primates. In our time of pseudo-science and
anti-science religionists dissing real science about climate change and
evolution, philosopher Latour has recognized the danger of his work being
misunderstood or worse, misused.
All
this brought to mind a rather prescient conversation I created in one of my
unpublished novels, the tongue-in-cheek Angus
Dei – A John Boswell Mystery, written in 2002. Spiritual profiler Boswell,
the Catholic narrator, is trying to find the one responsible for the death of
Angus MacDonald, pastor of Primitive Presbyterian in Crowbar, Mississippi. He
interviews various citizens, including science teacher Annie Hepburn, who describes
Angus:
“His
passion for God made him stupid, just like romantic love makes you blind to
reality and prompts you to idealize the beloved. It makes us closer to the
animals who breed by instinct rather than by reason. But humans bring reason
into any relationship. We are not bound by blind passion, whether for a person,
a country, or for God. Our passion is informed. Angus’s passion for God
resisted information. His idealization of God required God to create the world
as if by magic, in an instant, at most in seven days, rather than through
arduous experimentation and a process known as evolution. Angus claimed it was
as if I were suggesting God made the world by following a recipe, or worse,
some haphazard, trial-and-error plan. If God made the world though a
discernible process, then he was diminished, in Angus’s view.
“I,
on the other hand, find the process so awesome that it made me more of a
believer than any text of scripture ever could. The world itself is the best
witness for this inspiration and yearning for life that we call God. By
contrast, look how petty religion can be! They argue and divide over how to do
Communion, like a bunch of obsessives with varying compulsions. Lately they’ve
wasted a lot of time quibbling over whether homosexuality is right or wrong, as
if love is only possible between a man and a woman. And they’ve always debated
the merits of personal piety versus social responsibility, as if the two could
be separated!”
I
felt compelled to argue the other side, if only to hear her answer. I said,
“But scientists argue over experimental procedure—their rituals. They disagree
over what makes for healthy human relationships, including sexuality. And
there’s always conflict between ‘pure science’ versus ethical responsibility.”
Annie
paused, and smiled, and I could see that she was thinking. “That’s true,” she
said at last. “Science is also a mythological framework in some ways,
purporting to give meaning and order to what others see as random and chance. But
what is revealed in the religion that we call ‘science’ I find ultimately more
hopeful and helpful. Religion is too often caught up in the past, and both
religion and science are held back if either is paralyzed by the old ways of
doing things, the old ways of understanding things. The very nature of science
calls for breaking boundaries, breaking the supposed rules.”
I
thought of my own Catholic tradition, its very nature caught up in the past,
but a past begun in the divine nature of a human being whom we believe modeled
how to be a child of God, a past populated by venerable but vulnerable saints
who followed the model, as well as powerful demons that didn’t, demons of
conformity and cruelty, violence and division—the weeds within the harvest. And
then I looked at Annie, and a thought came to mind that I dared not say, that
would be highly inappropriate because it would unveil her own precious
vulnerability. Just as Catholicism set up an altar to honor its lover, so she
had set up an altar to honor hers, her dead husband—a side table adorned with
fresh flowers and two candlesticks beneath his photograph, hanging on the wall.
She too had an experience in the past of love so powerful that she also
remained faithful, I thought to myself. But a true Southern gentleman or lady
may only think such things, one
doesn’t say them, trudging on
people’s personal vulnerabilities for the sake of winning an argument. This is
a Southern virtue that other Americans should emulate. Of course, then there
would be less for the media, politicians, lawyers, and talk show hosts to
exploit.
Annie
continued, “Angus also hated breaking the rules. Beyond defending the only one
that he thought could possibly satisfy his longing—God—he also was defending
himself, his own fortress of beliefs that held him together in the chaos that’s
in every person. He was afraid of letting go. And for him, removing one stone
from his fortress would cause the whole thing to collapse.”
In the wake of the recent
violence, my heart goes out to the Tree of Life synagogue and the beautiful Squirrel
Hill neighborhood of Pittsburgh, PA, which I visited years ago. I also stand in
solidarity with Jewish communities everywhere in their grief and their anxiety
over increasing anti-Semitic rhetoric and attacks.
A reading for Halloween
which seems particularly relevant these days:
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Copyright © 2002 and 2018 by Chris R.
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