The other night I watched a PBS program on telescopes, with a large part of it featuring the Hubble Telescope, and the wonders of the universe that it has revealed. It was pointed out that astrophysicists have discovered, thanks to telescopes, that there's a huge amount of what they call "dark matter" out in space; indeed, they believe about 23% of the universe is made up of dark matter, another 73% something they call dark energy, 3.6% intergalactic gas, while only .4% is "ordinary matter" (stars, planets, galaxies).*
And here's the thought that occurred to me as I was listening to all this. Maybe the dark matter and the dark energy are the body of God. Maybe the universe is God, with all the planets and stars and galaxies sort of appendages to that body. Maybe originally, just as it says in the Christian Bible, there was only a dark universe, that is, God, eternal and everywhere, but without form or light. And the Consciousness, the Intelligence that was God got bored, felt like making something happen, decided to try a little experiment, said (or thought) "Let there be light," and there was a Big Bang, and a jillion particles were hurled outward on a long, long journey, during which they coalesced, became stars, planets, galaxies. And God watched, with interest, what was happening, watched the evolution of worlds, of species on those worlds, of cultures among those species. He didn't necessarily take care of any of these results of his experiment -- he let them play themselves out, "naturally," according to the laws that had been set in motion with his first action. But they were all a part of Him.
I could almost accept this idea of God. I have not been able to accept the all-knowing, all-loving God I was brought up to believe in -- have seen too much evidence of an uncaring universe at work -- but such a scenario as I have described would cover the evidence that our sciences have found for evolution, and for the formation of the "ordinary matter" of the universe, while also explaining the sense of God, the ancient sense that there is a God, that all peoples of this world, at least, have had. And it would account for all that mysterious dark matter and dark energy out there!
It's a thought.
*Craig, Matthew and Sara Schultz. Invisible Galaxies: The Story of Dark Matter. The Universe in the Classroom, No. 7, Summer 2007. http://www.astrosociety.org/education/publications/tnl/72/darkmatter.html
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
The crap shoot of life
Watching the scenes of devastation following the earthquake in Haiti in January, and the more recent one in Chili, remembering the tsunami that literally swamped southeast Asia at the end of 2004, then the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in August of 2005, thinking of all the people whose lives were destroyed or traumatized by these events, I think 'Life is such a crap shoot.'
Most of us (i.e., those reading this blog) lucked out with the roll of the dice -- we got born into reasonably middle-class families in the wealthy, safe (if you don't live in the ghettos of some big, mean city) United States of America. If we're old enough we've undoubtedly had to deal with some of the inevitable tragedies of life -- losing parents, siblings, spouses, children, others we love, to death, or something like alcoholism or drug addiction; perhaps wrestling with these problems ourselves, or such things as depression, lengthy job loss, severe financial problems. As we all know if we live past the age of 20, life is hard, wherever you're born, whatever kind of circumstances you're born into.
But for some people life is astoundingly hard, and never lets up. One could be a woman living in Congo, subjected to multiple rapes by soldiers, having your private parts permanently damaged by the abuse. This, of course, is on top of being dirt poor. Or one could be one of the thousands living in the appalling conditions of refugee camps in Darfur and eastern Chad, there after having seen their menfolk tortured and slaughtered, their home villages destroyed, even now subject to rape when outside the camps trying to gather straw or water.
Or one could be an Afghani peasant, caught between the self-serving violence of the Taliban and the 'whoops' attacks of the drones, that seem to be forever hitting civilian targets; this, after having endured war in one form or another for most of the past 20 years...while wanting, of course, nothing other than to be left alone in peace. And obviously I could go on and on. The places whose inhabitants have it incredibly hard are legion.
And then I think of my mother, insisting that God had a plan for me, my brother (of the same religious inclinations), insisting that God wants me to be happy. Presumably, if God has a plan for little ol' insignificant me, then He/It/They (God is not female, or would never have permitted the kind of suffering women have had to endure down through the ages, in virtually all societies) has one, i.e., a plan, for every other person who has ever lived, and is living now, and wants them to be happy, too. But what kind of Plan permits the kind of suffering I mentioned above? Or, perhaps more importantly, how can one take any kind of comfort from a belief in such a Divine Plan? Surely one can do so only if one wears blinders as to the conditions so many people in the world must endure, have endured throughout the history of humans. If you just sit in your middle-class American complacency, enduring the usual slings and arrows of outrageous fortune but nothing truly major, no true catastrophes, then maybe it's possible to believe there is a just God, a merciful God, who loves you and is watching out for you.
Otherwise you have to think you just really lucked out, in where you were born, when, to what parents. The luck of the draw.
Most of us (i.e., those reading this blog) lucked out with the roll of the dice -- we got born into reasonably middle-class families in the wealthy, safe (if you don't live in the ghettos of some big, mean city) United States of America. If we're old enough we've undoubtedly had to deal with some of the inevitable tragedies of life -- losing parents, siblings, spouses, children, others we love, to death, or something like alcoholism or drug addiction; perhaps wrestling with these problems ourselves, or such things as depression, lengthy job loss, severe financial problems. As we all know if we live past the age of 20, life is hard, wherever you're born, whatever kind of circumstances you're born into.
But for some people life is astoundingly hard, and never lets up. One could be a woman living in Congo, subjected to multiple rapes by soldiers, having your private parts permanently damaged by the abuse. This, of course, is on top of being dirt poor. Or one could be one of the thousands living in the appalling conditions of refugee camps in Darfur and eastern Chad, there after having seen their menfolk tortured and slaughtered, their home villages destroyed, even now subject to rape when outside the camps trying to gather straw or water.
Or one could be an Afghani peasant, caught between the self-serving violence of the Taliban and the 'whoops' attacks of the drones, that seem to be forever hitting civilian targets; this, after having endured war in one form or another for most of the past 20 years...while wanting, of course, nothing other than to be left alone in peace. And obviously I could go on and on. The places whose inhabitants have it incredibly hard are legion.
And then I think of my mother, insisting that God had a plan for me, my brother (of the same religious inclinations), insisting that God wants me to be happy. Presumably, if God has a plan for little ol' insignificant me, then He/It/They (God is not female, or would never have permitted the kind of suffering women have had to endure down through the ages, in virtually all societies) has one, i.e., a plan, for every other person who has ever lived, and is living now, and wants them to be happy, too. But what kind of Plan permits the kind of suffering I mentioned above? Or, perhaps more importantly, how can one take any kind of comfort from a belief in such a Divine Plan? Surely one can do so only if one wears blinders as to the conditions so many people in the world must endure, have endured throughout the history of humans. If you just sit in your middle-class American complacency, enduring the usual slings and arrows of outrageous fortune but nothing truly major, no true catastrophes, then maybe it's possible to believe there is a just God, a merciful God, who loves you and is watching out for you.
Otherwise you have to think you just really lucked out, in where you were born, when, to what parents. The luck of the draw.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
God on trial
I just watched a powerful program on PBS’s Masterpiece Theatre (only, for some reason, they’re calling it Masterpiece Contemporary). I almost didn’t watch this program, because I saw that it took place in a Nazi concentration camp, and anything to do with the Holocaust tends to upset me very much. Did I want to go there? In the end I did, and I’m glad I did, though of course I cried at the end, when the prisoners who had been “selected” were trotted off to the gas chambers.
I would call the performance a play, for it seemed like one. Lots of talk, relatively little action, a limited number of sets, although the opening and closing scenes, when the busload of modern-day tourists was arriving at Auschwitz, and then leaving it after their tour, opened it out, and made it more like a film. But the main body of the piece, during which a group of prisoners holds a “trial” to determine if God was guilty of breaking his covenant with his “chosen people,” seemed very much like a play. And that in itself gave me pleasure, to be watching an intelligent, well-acted, thoughtful play. And that last descriptor, thoughtful, was what made it especially satisfying. Weighty matters were being argued, questions that must occur to most thoughtful people at some time in their lives, when they look around at all the suffering there is in the world and wonder, where is God.
Perhaps the strongest argument in defense of God was that terrible things had happened to the Jews in the past – being enslaved in Egypt, later in Babylon, the massacre at Masada, the expulsion from Spain – and these terrible times had usually resulted (ultimately) in things being better. “If we had not been exposed to Egypt, to Babylon, would we not still be an insular tribe of shepherds?” the man asked. “Have we not become so much more, because of our experiences over the years?” It was suggested that these terrible times were painful, but necessary, purifying episodes.
Some were arguing that the Jews must have done something wrong, and were being punished by God, but this idea didn’t seem to win many proponents, as they all knew that too many who could surely not be accused of committing sins against God – children for example – were suffering. Surely it was not a just and good God who would punish the innocent with whoever might, indeed, be guilty of sin. This discussion can be applied to all peoples in the history of the world. There are too many examples of the good and innocent suffering, while the cruel and the intolerant triumph -- at least in the short run -- for one to suppose that God is in the punishing and rewarding business, at least in this life. People all too often do not get their just rewards.
Perhaps the most interesting argument was made toward the end by a man who had until then been silent. He abruptly stood up and began reeling off the history of the Jews, going back to their departure from Egypt – which was preceded by all sorts of plagues and miseries being visited on the hapless Egyptians, including the death of all the firstborn in the land. “Did he kill the Pharaoh?” he asked. The Pharaoh was, after all, the one who was preventing the Israelites from leaving. But no, God killed the innocent children. And then, when the soldiers were pursuing the departing Israelites, did he close the Red Sea immediately behind the latter, cutting them off from their pursuers? No, he waited until the soldiers were in the middle of the sea, then released the held-back waters, drowning them all.
And the fellow had numerous other examples that showed that, as he put it, God was not good, God had just been on their side. And now, he seemed to have changed sides. This was the final argument before the guards burst in and hustled out those who had been selected. But we learn from one of the departing tourists, who has heard this possibly apocryphal story, that the remaining prisoners did find God guilty of breaking his “contract” with his people. He had promised to protect them, if they were true to him, and in this terrible time he had not done so.
I would say, a not unjust judgment.
I would call the performance a play, for it seemed like one. Lots of talk, relatively little action, a limited number of sets, although the opening and closing scenes, when the busload of modern-day tourists was arriving at Auschwitz, and then leaving it after their tour, opened it out, and made it more like a film. But the main body of the piece, during which a group of prisoners holds a “trial” to determine if God was guilty of breaking his covenant with his “chosen people,” seemed very much like a play. And that in itself gave me pleasure, to be watching an intelligent, well-acted, thoughtful play. And that last descriptor, thoughtful, was what made it especially satisfying. Weighty matters were being argued, questions that must occur to most thoughtful people at some time in their lives, when they look around at all the suffering there is in the world and wonder, where is God.
Perhaps the strongest argument in defense of God was that terrible things had happened to the Jews in the past – being enslaved in Egypt, later in Babylon, the massacre at Masada, the expulsion from Spain – and these terrible times had usually resulted (ultimately) in things being better. “If we had not been exposed to Egypt, to Babylon, would we not still be an insular tribe of shepherds?” the man asked. “Have we not become so much more, because of our experiences over the years?” It was suggested that these terrible times were painful, but necessary, purifying episodes.
Some were arguing that the Jews must have done something wrong, and were being punished by God, but this idea didn’t seem to win many proponents, as they all knew that too many who could surely not be accused of committing sins against God – children for example – were suffering. Surely it was not a just and good God who would punish the innocent with whoever might, indeed, be guilty of sin. This discussion can be applied to all peoples in the history of the world. There are too many examples of the good and innocent suffering, while the cruel and the intolerant triumph -- at least in the short run -- for one to suppose that God is in the punishing and rewarding business, at least in this life. People all too often do not get their just rewards.
Perhaps the most interesting argument was made toward the end by a man who had until then been silent. He abruptly stood up and began reeling off the history of the Jews, going back to their departure from Egypt – which was preceded by all sorts of plagues and miseries being visited on the hapless Egyptians, including the death of all the firstborn in the land. “Did he kill the Pharaoh?” he asked. The Pharaoh was, after all, the one who was preventing the Israelites from leaving. But no, God killed the innocent children. And then, when the soldiers were pursuing the departing Israelites, did he close the Red Sea immediately behind the latter, cutting them off from their pursuers? No, he waited until the soldiers were in the middle of the sea, then released the held-back waters, drowning them all.
And the fellow had numerous other examples that showed that, as he put it, God was not good, God had just been on their side. And now, he seemed to have changed sides. This was the final argument before the guards burst in and hustled out those who had been selected. But we learn from one of the departing tourists, who has heard this possibly apocryphal story, that the remaining prisoners did find God guilty of breaking his “contract” with his people. He had promised to protect them, if they were true to him, and in this terrible time he had not done so.
I would say, a not unjust judgment.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)