Palm Sunday with Frederick Buechener

Entry into Jerusalem, Duccio

Palm Sunday with Frederick Buechener

WHEN JESUS OF Nazareth rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and his followers cried out, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord,” the Pharisees went to Jesus and told him to put an end to their blasphemies, and Jesus said to them, “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.”

This church. The church on the other side of town, the other side of the world. All churches everywhere. The day will come when they will lie in ruins, every last one of them. The day will come when all the voices that were ever raised in them, including our own, will be permanently stilled. But when that day comes, I believe that the tumbled stones will cry aloud of the great, deep hope that down through the centuries has been the one reason for having churches at all and is the one reason we have for coming to this one now: the hope that into the world the King does come. And in the name of the Lord. And is always coming, blessed be he. And will come afire with glory, at the end of time.

In the meantime, King Jesus, we offer all churches to you as you offer them to us. Make thyself known in them. Make thy will done in them. Make our stone hearts cry out thy kingship. Make us holy and human at last that we may do the work of thy love.

• Originally published in A Room Called Remember

It Has Been a Week…

Trimmed. Photo by David Cornwell

It has been a week.

Many of us in the Internet Monk family have had serious sadness and struggles of various kinds this week.

I would urge you to pray for Daniel Jepsen, Mike Bell, Mike the Geologist, and David Cornwell in particular.

For them, and for others who are close to many of us, this is a season of disorientation.

The Apostle Paul stated his goal in life in these terms: “All I want is to know Christ and to experience the power of his resurrection, to share in his sufferings and become like him in his death, in the hope that I myself will be raised from death to life” (Philippians 3:10).

If we want to know Christ’s resurrection power, we must share in his death. We must pass through seasons of disorientation, which are an unavoidable aspect of life in this fallen world. They are also part of what it means to enter into Christ’s sufferings. The lament is the form of prayer by which God guides us through the wilderness and reorients us once again.

But this is not simply a matter of “me and Jesus” going through a season of life. We belong to each other and we weep with those who weep in these kinds of seasons.

Please join us in praying for one another. And, in your own life and web of relationships, be a little gentler and kinder today, knowing that those around you may be in such a season of disorientation.

If you’d like to share a prayer need today, feel free to do so and we will join together with you in laying it before our listening and loving God.

*

O merciful Father, who hast taught us in thy holy Word that
thou dost not willingly afflict or grieve the children of men:
Look with pity upon the sorrows of thy servants for whom
our prayers are offered. Remember them, O Lord, in mercy,
nourish their souls with patience, comfort them with a sense of
thy goodness, lift up thy countenance upon them, and give
them peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Is There Purpose in Biology?  The Cost of Existence and the God of Love. By Denis Alexander, Chapter 1: The Historical Roots of Purpose in Biology

Is There Purpose in Biology?  The Cost of Existence and the God of Love. By Denis Alexander,

Chapter 1: The Historical Roots of Purpose in Biology

We are reviewing the book: Is There Purpose in Biology?  The Cost of Existence and the God of Love. By Denis Alexander.  Chapter 1 is The Historical Roots of Purpose in Biology.  Alexander thinks, and I agree, it is most always useful to examine the historical roots of an idea; to put it in perspective and realize how ideas develop through culture and history.  Of course “biology” is the combination of two Greek words bios, life, and logos, the study of—or the discourse about.  In earlier centuries the “study of life” would have been part of “natural history” as distinguished from “natural philosophy”, which was deemed, until the 17th century, to be superior because it provided causal and logical demonstrations while natural history was merely descriptive.  The word biology itself doesn’t appear until the 18th century Swedish natural philosopher, Carl Linnaeus, famous for his classification system of plants and animals, used it. 

By the late 19th century science was becoming more professionalized, and biology developed further as a distinct discipline in the early 20th century with its own journals and professional societies.  But the “study of life” goes all the way back to the Greek philosophers.  Alexander mentions Aristotle, who taught there were four causes of things: material, formal, efficient, and final.  The “efficient cause” maps most closely to what modern science focuses on.  But Aristotle would have included the telos, the final cause, which asks the question, “why”.  From telos we get the word teleological, which means “having and end or purpose”. 

Zeno of Citium

The Stoics, mentioned in Acts 17:17-19, were a school of Greek philosophy founded by Zeno of Citium in Athens in the early 3rd century BC.  One of their best known expositors was the Roman lawyer, Cicero (106-43 BC) who said:

When we see a mechanism such as a planetary model or a clock, do we doubt that it is the creation of a conscious intelligence?  So how can we doubt that the world is the work of the divine intelligence?  We may well believe that the world and everything in it has been created for the gods and for mankind.

This argument preceded the famous William Paley metaphor 2,000 year later, when Paley compared the world to a watch, thereby inferring design by a watchmaker.  Cicero’s arguments were taken up by early Christian thinkers such as Tertullian (AD 160-225) as a way of promoting belief in the one creator God to the surrounding pagans. Alexander also mentions a number of Islamic scholars, such as Al-Jahiz, who drew attention to an argument from design, and Abu Hamid al-Ghazali (1058-1111) who wrote a book called The Wisdom in God’s Creation / Creatures, pointing out the many ways in which structures and aspects of the living world fulfilled God’s purposes.

Thomas Aquinas

No review of the history of science would be complete without reference to Italian Dominican friar, Thomas Aquinas (1224-1274).  Aquinas Christianized Aristotle into medieval theology and formed the system known as “scholasticism”. Gradually, nature began to seen as a book which could and should be read alongside the sacred text of Scripture. Aquinas said, “It is the knowledge we have of creatures that enables us to use words to refer to God”. 

The period of the Reformation not only changed the way people began to read Scripture, but also changed the way they read the text of nature.  The Reformers insisted that the text of Scripture should be read only according to its literal meaning, not according to allegorical meanings. The Reformation’s deep suspicion of all various forms of authority of the ancients, including the early Greek philosophers, led to the new way of reading the natural world as well stripped of allegorical layers of meaning.  The 17th century also saw the rise in the “mechanical philosophy”, the idea that the universe operates on machine-like principles.  Today mechanism and meaning are often pitted against each other as if incompatible, but in the 17th century the machine was always God’s machine.  Aristotle’s “Final Cause” came to be understood, not as a telos immanent in the natural object, but rather the purpose for which God had designed the thing. 

The providentialist natural theology of the 17th century received a potent challenge during the 18th century, particularly from Scottish philosopher David Hume, who took to task William Paley’s argument from design based on the “watchmaker” analogy. At the same time was the rise of materialism on the European continent in connection with the French Revolution from the philosophes, a collection of writers who were the intellectuals of the 18th-century Enlightenment.  They included such luminaries as:

  • ·         Voltaire (1694–1778)
  • ·         Benjamin Franklin (1706–1790)
  • ·         David Hume (1711–1776)
  • ·         Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–1778)
  • ·         Denis Diderot (1713–1784)
  • ·         Claude Adrien Helvétius (1715–1771)
  • ·         Jean le Rond d’Alembert (1717–1783)
  • ·         Immanuel Kant (1724–1804)
  • ·         Cesare Beccaria (1738–1794)
  • ·         Marquis de Condorcet (1743–1794)
  • ·         Francesco Mario Pagano (1748–1799)
Charles Darwin

Which brings us to Charles Darwin (1809-1882).  Although Darwin lost his faith later in life, he was steeped in Paley’s works during his education and always maintained that evolution was compatible with religious belief.  Denis writes:

But to a large degree it was his theory that killed off any idea of a broader Purpose for evolution, mainly because of the role that “chance variation” was perceived to play in his theory and, perhaps even more so, because adaptations engineered by natural selection subverted one of the key arguments of a certain form of natural theology, namely, the understanding that complex organs like the eye, the human brain, and so forth were due to God’s direct creative action …we note that as far as wider public perceptions were concerned, it was the image of evolution as a “chance process”, coupled with the idea that the theory had killed off the design argument, that most reinforced the idea that evolutionary biology must be a purposeless narrative.

In the second half of the 19th century the professionalization of science gathered pace and the science and faith which had been so previously integrated began to go their own separate ways.  As the religious influence in biology declined, Darwin’s theory was utilized in support of virtually every 20th century ideology: capitalism, communism, racism, militarism, eugenics, feminism, atheism, and so on.  In 1970, the French molecular biologist, Jacque Monod published Chance and Necessity in which he argued that since evolution was based on chance, so the universe was one in which Chance ruled.  Monod said, “Man knows now that he is like a gypsy camping on the edge of the universe where he must live.  The universe is deaf to his music, indifferent to his hopes, as to his sufferings or his crimes”.  In the early years of the 21st century, so called “new atheists”, following Monod, started making all kinds of ideological extrapolations out of evolutionary biology.  How all these extrapolations can be inferred from molecular biology is never quite clear.  Denis concludes:

The aim here is definitely not some attempt to reinstate religious arguments derived from biological design or teleology.  Nor is our aim, it should once again be emphasized, to suggest that Purpose can be inferred from biology, but rather the more modest claim that when you stand back and look at the evolutionary process as a whole, it just doesn’t look “necessarily purposeless”.  At least if that particular ideological extrapolation has its wings clipped, it will then be possible to move on and have a more informed discussion about biology and theology.

Funeral Sermon: A Day Like Holy Saturday

The Entombment, Garofalo

Funeral Sermon: A Day Like Holy Saturday
Preached on the Occasion of a Young Adult’s Suicide

The worst isn’t the last thing about the world. It’s the next to the last thing. The last thing is the best. It’s the power from on high that comes down into the world, that wells up from the rock-bottom worst of the world like a hidden spring. Can you believe it? The last, best thing is the laughing deep in the hearts of the saints, sometimes our hearts even. Yes. You are terribly loved and forgiven. Yes. You are healed. All is well.

• Frederick Buechner, The Final Beast

• • •

The worst thing is not the last thing. Frederick Buechner’s words are about the only thing I can hang on to sometimes.

You, ______ and ______, my dear friends, have experienced what I would consider to be the worst thing imaginable: the tragic loss of a beloved child. You are in the midst of the worst thing.

I can’t, and won’t, try and tell you otherwise. I won’t blaspheme the sacred sadness of this moment. Every single parent here would tell you that this is our worst fear, our most dreaded circumstance, the one unnerving possibility that keeps us from sleeping at night.

At this time of year, when the church gathers to remember the Great Three Days of Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday, it seems to me that what we are experiencing today is what it must have felt like on that Holy Saturday. On that day, all the disciples knew is they had lost the one they loved on Good Friday, but they as yet had no conception of what was to come on Easter Sunday. It was a dark day, a sad day. No one knew what to do or say.

But Holy Saturday wasn’t the last thing. It was the next to the last thing. And the last thing was best. And so today — this may be the blackest day, the bleakest day, but it isn’t the final day.

Most of us have a pretty good theology of Good Friday, the day when the unthinkable happens, when Jesus dies on the cross. And we know how to rejoice on Easter, the day when the unimaginable happens: when death is overcome through Jesus’ resurrection. But few of us know what to do on Holy Saturday, when we’ve just gone through the unthinkable and can’t yet imagine the unimaginable. However, someone has suggested that perhaps we have not really listened to the gospel story of the cross and the empty tomb until we have considered that cold, dark Sabbath in between.

We can feel utterly lost on days like Holy Saturday, when our beloved is gone and it’s hard to see tomorrow. On that first Saturday, for all the disciples knew, it was the end, it was the last thing. Hope was gone, the future uncertain. Indeed, it was hard for them to even think of tomorrow, because the day’s overwhelming despair swallowed up any vision of a path forward.

And where is God on a day like Holy Saturday?

Looking back, it is easy to see God in Jesus on Friday, when in willing love he goes to the cross and sacrifices himself for the life of the world. And of course, we celebrate God in Jesus on Easter Sunday morning, raised up, vindicated, Lord of life.

But what about on Saturday, when Jesus lies in the grave? Can we summon enough faith to see God in Jesus lying dead and buried in the tomb? Can we see God so fully identifying with our humanity in Christ that he not only dies like us but is also buried with us?

If we can, then we can know that there is indeed nothing in all creation that can separate us from God’s love. Holy Saturday assures us that God in Jesus actually takes his place in the grave with us. Right now, on this day we are experiencing between death and resurrection, Jesus is taking his place with ______ and also with us who stand at his grave weeping.

This three-day way of looking at things appears to have been in the Apostle Paul’s mind when he wrote these words: “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead” (Phil 3:10-11).

It seems to me that Paul is suggesting that, in this broken life, while we remain subject to weakness and mortality, our lives often follow this three-day pattern.

  • We share in Christ’s sufferings. We are buried with Christ, becoming like him in his death. Only then do we experience the power of Christ’s resurrection.
  • Good Friday. Holy Saturday. Easter Sunday.
  • The unthinkable happens. And then all is dark. And only after we live through that darkness does the morning of resurrection come.

The worst thing is not the last thing. It’s the next to the last thing.

But it’s where we are now and it’s what we are experiencing today.

I want to encourage you, as the psalmist encourages us all:“Wait for the Lord; Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the Lord” (Ps. 27:14).

The last thing, the best thing, is yet to come.

Another Look: A Breviary on Grief and Mourning

Note from CM: It is a week of mourning around here. This is another piece from last year, re-posted today to remind us of some of the basics about what loss does to us and where we go from here.

• • •

A Breviary on Grief and Mourning

What we grieve, we must mourn.

Grief is one’s complex inner response to loss.

Mourning consists of the outward expressions by which we acknowledge our grief and work through it until it becomes more and more integrated into our lives.

In addition, in the aftermath of loss we need to recuperate, heal, and embrace change.

We never stop grieving. Never.

However, our losses can become part of our lives in such a way that we can carry them with us through practices of mourning (lamenting our loss) and recovery (healing and changing) so that we can move forward onto a “new normal” path. We can forge a renewed identity, find more peace in the midst of life’s uncertainties, and discover a broader and deeper sense of meaning than we ever thought possible.

My favorite illustration of this is losing a limb.

Let’s say that through some terrible accident I were to lose my arm. I will never “get over” that. I will forever be a person who has lost an arm, with lifelong consequences.

However, I can adapt to a new normal over time. For this to happen, I will have to work through a complex maze of feelings and thoughts, participate in various recuperation and rehabilitation activities, and learn new ways of doing things — perhaps with the assistance of a prosthetic. Through such recovery efforts, by which I come to accept the reality of my loss and adapt to the new situation, I can become able to face the world again as a “new” person — someone whose life has been dramatically altered.

This is no small task, and we do the bereaved no favor when we wittingly or unwittingly encourage them to “get over” or “move on” past their grief. That usually says more about our own discomfort with their loss, their new situation, and our inability to adapt than it does about them.

To lose a loved one is to be forever changed.

To lose a loved one is to enter a new and dramatically different part of our story. And where will it lead?

No more songs of innocence. Songs of experience must now be sung.

Another Look: Live into the “What” not the “Why”

Note from CM: I wrote this a year ago. I need it this week. Maybe it will help you too.

• • •

When someone is drowning, the only thing worse than failing to throw them a life preserver is handing them a reason.

Kate Bowler

• • •

Live into the “What” not the “Why”

Religious people (me, for example) are really good at focusing on the “whys” of life. Pastors and theologians, in particular, make this their specialty. We think it is our duty to explain the mysteries of God, life, and the universal code of justice. We imagine that the people in our congregations and communities are filled with questions about these and other transcendent matters, eager to get the right answers so that their minds and souls can rest at ease in the midst of life’s ups and downs.

Not so much.

At least in my experience, we religious types (especially leaders, teachers, and passionate Bible study types) seem to be the only ones who really care about such things on any regular basis. Most of the rest of the human race simply goes about the business of living.

Oh sure, there are occasions, especially in painful and overwhelming seasons — what Walter Brueggemann calls the times of “disorientation” — when most people might feel the cry “Why?” rise up and explode from their mouths. But even then, the questions they ask, like Why? How long? Where are you, God? Why me? How much more can I take? and protestations like This isn’t fair! are usually exclamations of pain, frustration, and helplessness rather than intellectual queries.

We’ve made the point here many, many times that people in such circumstances aren’t looking so much for answers as for reassurance. They want comforting company. They long to feel the “thereness” of someone who cares, who is with them and will not abandon them, who will not freak out but be a calming presence and a sure guide through the storm. They long to feel safe and secure. Having little or no control over their situation, they want a sturdy anchor to hold on to so they won’t be washed away in the rushing waters that threaten to overwhelm them.

Words, explanations, arguments, apologetics, analysis, etc. — these are most certainly not the primary tools of ministry to reach for to support such people. And you know what? Most of the time, they don’t really want those things either. Even if they present themselves as serious about wanting explanations, when you start to give one, I’ve noticed that people tend to tune out, recognizing right away that the “comforter” is just throwing bits of paper into a whirlwind.

Friend, they already know you don’t have the answer! If anything, they are testing you to see whether you are smart enough to know that too. Then, maybe they might trust you.

But most ministerial training keeps on giving pastoral leaders books instead of bread to feed the hungry. Especially in the biblicist evangelical world, in post-evangelical streams such as neo-Calvinism and neo-Puritanism, and in any tradition that places prime value on doctrine and rational “answers” as a main approach to religious practice, we continue to produce miserable counselors who focus on the “whys” of life and encourage people to live into the why.

As a hospice clinician, I have come to appreciate a different way. We live into the “what” of life, the “thisness” of life. We simply deal with what is before us. Discussing theoretical speculations and solving transcendental puzzles rarely enters into the work. No, we sit face to face with people and try to help them find some peace. Period.

It’s as simple and as complicated as that. It can be hard enough at times figuring out what the “what” is that is causing distress. If we were tasked with going beyond that to figure out the “whys” and “wherefores” too, we’d waste a lot of precious time that could be devoted to genuinely supporting those we serve.

The work of supporting others and providing comfort is always more about the “what” than the “why.”

Now I’m not stupid. I realize that ministers and spiritual teachers are in a different setting, and it is their job to maintain and nourish certain traditions within covenantal communities. Those traditions have been developed over time to help explain some of the “whys.” Part of a minister’s kerygmatic and catechetical duty is to encourage people to embrace those as means of grace and strength in the various seasons and circumstances of life.

Fine. I am not arguing for a contentless religion of mere human compassion.

But even within the tradition, I’ve found that, in the end, for me, my “whys” are assuaged by a few relatively simple things: the liturgy and sensory comfort of sacred spaces and rituals, a few precious reassurances from scripture, hymns, and wise sayings, feeling the texture of my prayer beads and hearing the psalms prayed. Things like these provide more than enough satisfaction for the “whys” and other laments that pour from my soul.

And you want to give me a lecture on the sovereignty of God?

Instead, I’m going to need you to look at me in my time of distress and say, “What can I do to let you know you’re not alone? that you are loved and safe and cared for? that you can find some peace?”

When I’m in that situation and need you, don’t try to engage me in some conversation about “why.”

Live into the “what” and love me.

lent 5 — life and death and food and wine…

From a poster for Fellini’s Amarcord

Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him.

• John 12:1-2

i’m not sure i can imagine an odder scene
a miracle man with a fork in his hand
smiling and eating his greens

or what of his sisters two?
one runs in and out of the kitchen
carrying dishes of stew
one raids the family treasury
the unthinkable to do

and what of their invited friends?
one speaks up indignantly
missing both means and ends

and what of those observing
this strange, bizarre affair?
how could it not be unnerving?
and to those opposed it all confirms
a murderous path unswerving

it’s life and death and food and wine
and scents the air all filling
it’s grateful tears and curious looks
false piety and shilling
it’s plots of killing
and jesus willing to embrace it all

i’m not sure i can imagine an odder day
except for each one since, with all it carries
on the dying and rising way

• • •

For further consideration, read Will Willimon’s Dinner with Jesus

And this is Lent…

And this is Lent…

Thursday started off well.

I visited a woman 101 years old. Despite her age and sleepiness at the time of my visit, she was able to flash a twinkling eye and a sweet smile as we conversed.

It slid pretty much downhill from there.

About an hour later I found myself staring into the face of a young man in a coffin, who had been cut down at 20 years old by a drive-by shooter. His peers and family members wailed and contorted their bodies with a grief they could not contain. Some found it hard to catch their breath. Some fell to the ground in limp agony.

I had visited the home of this young man’s grandfather the day before where many of the same family members were mourning the older man’s death. I sat with them for about 3 hours as waves of alternating emotions flowed through the house. In the end, when they removed the deceased, a parade of people shaking in holy pain followed the body to the coach.

Today, they gathered before the grandson’s casket. Even I, an outsider, was numb.

Over the next few hours I got a bit of a “break” as I engaged in a couple of “normal” visits. Normal, that is, if you consider that what I do is sit and talk with people who are sure to die soon, and with their loved ones, who are soon to take that dreaded walk up to the front of some morbid chapel to view a lifeless body they once embraced as a living, breathing, loving family member.

Then it was back to another of those funeral homes for more consoling of families and friends saying goodbye to (1) a World War II veteran who was in the Battle of the Bulge, (2) a Shriner who devoted himself to showing charity to children everywhere, but whose own children were left wondering why he never showed it to them. Death can raise a lot of dust too.

I went to my car and was doing some paperwork when I received a phone call. One of our best friends, barely able to talk, told me his son had just taken his own life. It sucked the breath right out of me. For a moment I couldn’t push any words out.

Gail and I spent the rest of the evening with a group of stunned, red-eyed, helpless feeling friends as we gathered around dad and mom and tried to just be with them best we could. We finally shuffled our way out the door and drove home in silence. I turned the TV on just to distract me for awhile and then went to bed.

And this is Lent. Dust to damn dust.

I am so over it all.

My Journey with Michael Spencer

My heart is heavy today. I found out yesterday morning that a young family friend took her own life. It was a shocking reminder to me to “be kind” to the people I meet. I encourage that of all of you as well. You do not know what people are going through, so treat everyone with kindness regardless of how they treat you. Her passing has just been announced, and I don’t feel free to say anymore, but please pray for this family as they are undoubtedly devastated.

——————————————

Today is also the ninth anniversary of the passing of Michael Spencer the founder of Internet Monk. Just a couple of weeks ago was also the tenth anniversary of my first article posted to Internet Monk. I believe that Michael Spencer created Internet Monk about 2000 which means that we are about 19 years old! Through the miracles of Internet Archiving you can read an early version of it here. For those relatively new to Internet Monk you will be surprised by some of his influences in his early days.

Today, I wanted to take some time to recount my journey with with Michael Spencer and Internet Monk, and encourage you to share your journeys as well.

I first encountered Internet Monk in 2008 through a dispute with my Pastor over the importance of the mode of Baptism (sprinkled, poured, dunked) and the validity of re-baptism. (For clarity’s sake infant baptism was not part of the equation.) A google search led me to the blogging of Darrell Pursiful and his series on Baptism. Darrell was constantly quoting articles that Michael Spencer had written, and in due time I ended up visiting Internet Monk for myself.

I was pretty much hooked right away. Here was the guy who was saying the things that I was not free to say (though he was looking over his shoulder the whole time). While his views would evolve and change over time, he wasn’t afraid to tackle some of the big issues of the Evangelical world, that few would touch: Inerrancy (2005) , young earth creationism (2003), homosexuality (2003), mental illness (2006), and a critique of evangelism techniques (2003).

After reading for a while, and then commenting, I pitched a couple of ideas to Michael Spencer. They were pretty much shot down.

In March of 2009 Michael released his series on “The Coming Evangelical Collapse“, that got picked up by and printed by the “Christian Science Monitor”. I thought that he would get hammered for what he wrote, bu I also thought that what he said rang true to me, so I offered up another proposal:

“Would you be interested in a guest post showing a further statistical analysis of the ARIS data, that supports what you have been saying?”

To which he responded:

“Yes… send it… make it readable.”

So I contributed my first two articles for Internet Monk.

About a week later Michael sent this:

“Thanks Michael. You did a great job and we will do it again. In fact, consider submissions to IM to be an open invite from now on.”

Exactly ten years ago today he posted my third article, and Michael added the byline “Internet Monk First Officer”. This article was picked up my the Manchester Guardian, among other places, and has been cited in several scholarly books and articles. That was a pretty significant moment for me.

I wrote four more articles over the next few months (those stats articles do not come quickly), and then got sick. I was hit with the double Whammy of severe sleep apnea (blood oxygen levels were dropping as low as 61%) and Type 1 diabetes. (I was one of those rare instances of acquiring Type 1 in adulthood.)

I only wrote one more post before Michael Spencer passed away. Sadly we never got the chance to meet in person.

I did get both my sleep apnea and diabetes under control and volunteered to continue writing. Chaplain Mike and Jeff Dunn agreed. After posting sporadically while dealing with family issues, I became a regular weekly writer from the middle of 2013 to the middle of 2015, then again had to take another break because of family concerns. I have been back writing for the past year.

Some of you may remember that I started working on compiling Michael Spencer’s notes on the Gospel of Mark into a devotional commentary. Well, that is still ongoing, and I hope to be able to release Volume 1: Mark 1-8 by the end of next year.

What has been your experience with Michael Spencer and getting to know Internet Monk. Your thoughts and comments are very welcome.

——————————————

Finally to come back to my original thought, here is an appropriate saying from John Wesley:

Do all the good you can,
to all the people you can,
at all the times you can,
in all the ways you can,
by all the means you can,
as long as ever you can.

21 Grams

21 Grams

How much does the human soul weigh?  Sounds like a ridiculous question.   But according to a “scientific” study published in 1907 by Duncan MacDougall, a physician from Haverhill, Massachusetts, the answer was 21 grams.  Dr. MacDougall identified six patients in nursing homes whose death was imminent.  According to Wikipedia, one of the patients lost weight but then put the weight back on, and two of the other patients registered a loss of weight at death but a few minutes later lost even more weight. One of the patients lost “three-fourths of an ounce” (21.3 grams) in weight, coinciding with the time of death. MacDougall disregarded the results of another patient on the grounds the scales were “not finely adjusted”, and discounted the results of another as the patient died while the equipment was still being calibrated. MacDougall later measured the changes in weight from fifteen dogs after death.  MacDougall reported that none of the dogs lost any weight after death, thereby concluding that dogs had no soul (it is widely believed he poisoned the dogs to cause their death)(1).  Needless to say, even at the time, MacDougall’s experiment was widely criticized and thoroughly rejected by the scientific community.

But before MacDougall was able to publish the results of his experiments, The New York Times broke the story in an article titled “Soul has Weight, Physician Thinks”, and so the story entered and endured in popular culture.  In 2003 a movie, entitled 21 Grams, directed by Alejandro (Birdman, The Revenant) Iñárritu, came out and provided a unique opportunity for reflecting on both spiritual and scientific questions.  A review of the movie, and a reflection of the enduring pop culture phenomenon, was published on the website, “Christ and Popular Culture” listed on the Internet Monk’s Blogroll.  The review is by Tim Burbery.  Tim Burbery is Professor of English at Marshall University. His research examines the intersection of science, theology, and literature.  Take a minute to read Burbery’s review.

The interesting turn in Burbery’s review comes when he discusses a theory offered by a prominent Oxford physicist, Roger Penrose in his book, “The Emperor’s New Mind”, that suggests that, indeed, the soul may be, as we say, a thing, something physical if immaterial.  Burbery says:

Dubbed the “quantum soul” by some, the theory’s official name is less sexy: Orchestrated Objective Reduction, or Orch OR for short. It’s a possible answer to what has been called the “hard problem of consciousness” in science, that is, the origin and nature of consciousness. Whence self-awareness? Do animals possess it to the extent that humans do? Do we have an inner essence or core—a soul? Is consciousness necessary to earthly life, even to the universe, or could life have flourished even if earth was populated solely by zombies? Orch OR also engages these and similar questions.

Now this would seem to be just another example of “woo science” except that after reading The Emperor’s New Mind, anesthesiologist Stuart Hameroff stepped forward and offered Penrose a mechanism: microtubules, tiny tubes in the brain composed of a protein called tubulin. Supposedly, tubulin “makes up the skeletons of our cells, including neurons. What makes them interesting is their … potentially quantum role”, according to the book by Charles Seife, “Decoding the Universe: How the New Science of Information Is Explaining Everything in the Cosmos, from Our Brains to Black Holes”. They can be both extended and contracted at one and the same time, “in a state of superposition” (according to Seife). Put another way, the microtubules might provide a site for the quantum brain. And, they might be the seat of—wait for it—the soul. Thus, Orch OR was born.  Burbery summarizes Orch OR thusly:

In presenting their theory, Penrose and Hameroff parted company with most scientists, the majority of whom posit that consciousness arose slowly by an evolutionary process, as neurons began firing, more and more, with one another. Orch OR, on the other hand, argues that consciousness arises not between, but within, microtubules, inside the neurons, where quantum events take place. As they become “orchestrated” with each other, they produce discrete, quantized moments of awareness, which, taken together, result in what we call consciousness—somewhat like a film, as many separate frames produce the illusion of a “moving” picture.

Perhaps the most interesting part of Orch OR is its inversion of common sense, in which consciousness is a localized phenomenon. We tend to regard consciousness as starting with the human subject and radiating outward; our brains evolve, and then we’re able to look beyond ourselves and perceive things. But Orch OR argues that in fact, there are quantum events happening outside of us, ones that become entangled with our brains, and which, as it were, spark or fire our consciousness. To quote Penrose and Hameroff, “There is a connection between the brain’s biomolecular processes and the basic structure of the universe.”

Did you get that… “a connection between the brain’s biomolecular processes and the basic structure of the universe”?  Hah! I knew it!  What have I been trying to tell you?  Take a moment to view this fascinating video from Hameroff.  Hameroff remarks that “the soul is a real entity in terms of quantum information embedded in the universe.” Hameroff also claims that that information, because it’s quantum, experiences quantum entanglement with things outside the body, and thus, in theory, could be reconstituted after death.

Now, quantum effects are not limited to the sub-atomic world, but have also been observed in phenomena such as plant photosynthesis, and quantum biologists (go ahead and Google “quantum biology”) have proposed that certain birds are able to navigate on their migrations by using quantum entanglement.  I bookmarked this LiveScience article, “Schrödinger’s Bacteria? Physics Experiment Leads to 1st Entanglement of Living Organisms” and was going to post on it, it seems appropriate to this discussion.  I’ll be interested to see what Klasie Kraalogies says about this when he recovers from the temporary blindness from excessive eye-rolling that I have induced by this post 🙂

Burbery concludes: “As Christians, then, we don’t need science to prop up our beliefs, true, but we should at least be aware when scientists are working on something that overlaps with, and in some ways reinforces what we believe.”  I would tend to agree with that.  A purely materialistic reductionist viewpoint has always had trouble accounting for personal individual consciousness, except as pure epiphenomena.  The idea that our personal consciousness, our soul, is an illusion is an entirely circular argument. If it is an illusion, it is a deeply persistent one.

 

1- The fact that he poisoned 15 dogs to test his theory leads me to conclude that Dr. MacDougall had no soul.