Darwin fish and Jesus fish: complementary, not contradictory

I drove my son to his baseball game on Wednesday night.

[TIME OUT FOR PARENTAL BRAGGING: He hit a home run. He is awesome. OK, BACK TO BUSINESS]

We pulled up at a red light behind a Toyota with a Darwin fish on the back bumper.

Photo courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/jeremymiles/favorites/

“That is excellent,” he said. (My son is all about science.)

“Have you never seen that before?” I asked.

“No, I’ve only ever seen the Jesus fish ones, but that is great. It must really irritate fundamentalist Christians, though.”

“It might,” I said.

Then, struck by inspiration, I said, “Hey, I should get one of each.”

“Oh, right. ‘Cause you’re all science and story.”

“Yes! Darwin and the divine.”

“People would just think that there were two people in the house who couldn’t agree, so they got one of each.”

“Hmmm . . . You could be right.”

My son had hit on the key issue.

He’s right. People would assume conflict. We’re still shaking off the age of reason, so people would assume these two ideas to be incompatible. It’s still a reflex in our society to separate faith and science, when they are really comfortably complementary.

More and more scientists speak openly about faith without fear of being called looney-tunes for their beliefs. More and more people in churches, temples or mosques reject calls for blind faith.

Now I think I will get a Darwin fish and a Jesus fish.

I’ll place them on my car so they kiss each other.

The Way: a reformed atheist’s poetic struggle with elusive spirit

This photo came into my Facebook feed last week. My reaction: “I’m not making things up. I’m experiencing things that you scientists haven’t figured out how to explain—yet.

This morning I read in the paper about a University of British Columbia study that showed that faith diminished after study subjects performed analytical tasks, or looked at Rodin’s “The Thinker.”

These are timely for me, because I spent last weekend in a Healing Pathway workshop. Think Reiki, with scripture thrown in. So, I spent my weekend working with something I could not see or measure.

Now, I am someone who insists on having one hand on tangible science while the other explores the divine. When I don’t have something solid to hold onto in the one hand, it creates some apprehensions and discomfort.

Most times a healthy balance is in order. It’s not wise to launch ourselves into airy-fairy ethereal worlds without ever touching down. But I don’t believe it’s wise to ground ourselves too thoroughly in the science either, for it would deprive us of gifts of intuition.

I couldn’t see or measure what was going on over the weekend, but I could feel it. In fact, I was left trembling by it.  I decided at the end of the weekend that I had to let go temporarily of my need for the solid facts on the science side of the equation. Science just isn’t there yet, but I believe it will be some day. Should I deny myself extraordinary experiences in the meantime? Nope. So, out of my weekend experience, this poem came through me to you.

And my message to science is this: Catch up, will ya? Find the way.

The Way

© 2012 Arlene Somerton Smith

A tree waits in a mid-summer field,
shimmering elm arms stretched wide,
refuge

A speck blooms on the golden horizon,
takes the silhouette of a man,
slow

He stumbles to the gnarled grey trunk,
breathes deeply of respite and rest,
slumps

Knees drawn up, head cradled and rocking,
soul carved hollow by pain,
waiting

A figure long of robe materializes,
neither male nor female,
cosmic

At a distance the figure waits and watches
for we must ask, that is
the way.

The man looks into eyes that hold infinity,
reaches out his trembling hand,
“Please.”

Palm to palm, light radiates through the pair from
the sire universe and the birthing earth,
aglow

The man unfurls with peace and power,
receives the healing, for that is
the way

When the light retracts, hands release,
the long-robed figure recedes,
vapour

The man trembles, rises, re-arms,
resumes his journey on his path,
doubting

Along the road he meets a friend. Smiling,
and curious the friend asks, “Who was that
stranger?”

Shrugging, “Oh, that? That was nothing.”
He turns. The tree and the long-robed figure,
imperceptible

Uneasy, two men continue down their road,
laughing and clapping each other on the back,
analyzing

But a tree and a figure wait in a mid-summer field,
when needed you will see them, for that is
the way

Creation from many perspectives

Beware of a man of one book.  —English Proverb

On this date in 1925, the state of Tennessee made it illegal to teach evolution in any state-funded school. The Butler Act stipulated that teaching about evolution would deny the factual truth of the creation story in the Bible.

(Which biblical creation story, I wonder? There are two)

This led to the famous Scopes trial and decades of debate about creationism and evolution. Even though the act was repealed in 1967, incredibly, there is still controversy about teaching the theory of evolution.

Now, 87 years later, we live in an electronically connected global village. We search the internet to enrich our imaginations with the creation stories of cultures from around the world—including those in the Bible. We read many books full of detailed scientific information about the big bang and evolution. What a wealth of resources we have to feed our full and balanced educations.

Beware of an education of one book.

My creed – Christian, or not?

As part of a book study at my church, we discussed A New Creed and the “stumbling block” words or phrases included within it. The phrase “to proclaim Jesus, crucified and risen, our judge and our hope” creates lots of discussion. In what way is Jesus risen, if at all? Why should he be my judge?

During a follow-up discussion, a friend and I tried to figure out if I qualify as a Christian. I don’t believe that Jesus rose bodily from the dead, and I don’t believe in a figure in the sky judging my actions. Many of the phrases in A New Creed catch in my throat. If I don’t believe that Jesus died for my sins, am I Christian?

I decided to write my own creed.

When I was writing, I debated about including Jesus at all. I am a former atheist; how does a former atheist reconcile Jesus into a creed? However, my years as a Sunday school teacher taught me that the word Jesus and the words compassion and social justice pop up in almost every lesson. He was one of the few men in his patriarchal society that treated women as equal. He brushed aside the strict rules of his society to welcome all people to the table at all times.

Two thousand years ago Jesus was more progressive than many people today.

The way he lived his life inspired me. So here is Arlene’s creed. You be the judge.

I see, touch, taste, hear and smell creation, the scientific and tangible. I share a unity of existence with this creation, and when I respect it, I respect myself, and everything—according to its own nature.

Senses I do not yet understand perceive the mystical and intangible. I am connected to a divine source that vibrates with gratitude and love.

I embrace the fullness of the scientific and the divine.

Through mindfulness, meditation and prayer, I centre myself in the presents of the present.

I honour my teachers, who come to me with lessons when I need them. Everyday encounters of grief, suffering, trials, challenges, joy, or accomplishment.

I honour lessons of the great faith traditions and of Jesus who was crucified and yet is with me.

Gifts flow to me, as they flow from me.

God co-creates with me.

Do you believe, or do you belove?

Did you know that before the year 1600 the verb “to believe” had a different meaning than it does today?

According to Marcus Borg, before 1600 the verb “to believe” did not mean to believe something to be true. The object of the verb was not an idea, statement or a theory, but a person. To say that we believed someone meant that we trusted them, felt loyal to them and loved them.

Borg says, “Most simply, to believe meant to belove.”

These days believing is all about buying into certain ideas, statements or theories, and it causes strife. If someone’s ideas, statements of theories differ from ours, the love gets lost.

When we say “I believe you” in the pre-1600 context, it adds another wonderful layer to a relationship. We don’t just believe what a person is saying in a particular instance, we belove them as a whole person.

What, or better yet, who do you believe?

Source: Jesus: Uncovering the Life, Teachings, and Relevance of a Religious Revolutionary, by Marcus Borg

Transform then transmit

“If the pain of your story is not transformed, it will be transmitted.” —Richard Rohr

In my Friday post I wrote about re-creation at Easter, and I mentioned several painful stories that had been transformed into wonderful light.

Could those stories have ended differently?

Of course. Sandrine Craig’s family could have wallowed in the pain, nurturing it until it devoured their lives and radiated to everyone around them. Terry Fox could have stayed at home in a bout of self-pity that poisoned his relationships with others. Christopher Reeve could have steeped himself in bitter resentment.

But they didn’t.

They transformed their pain, so that what they transmitted was not dark bitterness, but beautiful light.