My Little Abbey

I am the abbot of an abbey of out-of-control monks. How they ever became monks is a mystery that only the Almighty can solve. Yet they are in my charge, and I, though sometimes only nominally in charge, I accountable for their foibles.

There's Larry, the sports enthusiast who knows next to nothing about sports. He loves watching the sames, but can't tell a red line from a blue line or a squeeze play from a screen play.

There's Nebbish, the scientist. Not quite smart enough for Scientific American, but loves look at pictures of stars and planets. He can name all of 15 constellations! He knows we are star stuff! But talk of quantum fluctuations, multiverses and hydrocarbon links leaves him cold. And gasping for air.

There's Carlos, the lover, who loves all the women of the world and knows they love him back. Carlos has spent the last few decades rattling his chains in his dungeon. Letting him out for air is a terrifying prospect for the Abey's good name.

There's Aloysius, the moralist, deacon and preacher. He is prolix and unbending and had his run early on. But the reality of guilt-by-association with his brother monks has tempered his once towering outbursts of pious indignation.

There's Lucky, the calculator and Aloysius's prime foil and sometimes ally. Lucky is cold and does the math about which friends are worthy of the Abbey's largesse. When he and Aloysius work together, they become a team of calculating moralists. When hey are at odds, it's usually Brother Aloysius who will guide Lucky to the high road where walk the unpopular and the dangerous-to-know.

There's Bill, the lush and layabout, who likes nothing more than to while away hour after buzzy hour imbibing the visual products of others. Brother Bill thinks the Internet is the greatest invention since the cathode ray tube.

There's Fingers, who delights in skimming little bits of time. Arriving for morning prayer at 6:05, it's Fingers idea to report that he was there at 6:00. He's the one who -- only in an emergency, mind you! -- will illicitly engage the scriptorium to copy a few pages of psalms when he's late for choir practice.

There's Brother Pugnacious, always ready for a scrap or a sharp word or a bon mot, as longs as it cuts just a little. Watch yourself when he and Aloysius are on speaking terms.

There's Preener, who loves to be lead voice in the choir and head jokester at the refectory table. It's a rare retreat in which Brother Preener doesn't drop a pithy insight for the delight of the other retreatants. And himself.

In the background, there are other monks. Brother Socrates, who thinks deeply about most anything. Brother Cecil, who sings tolerably well and writes the odd chant. Brother Pius, plying his beads in the chapel day and night. Brother Corey, who tends to keep to himself, but when roused, weeps tears of pity and loss. And Brother Manuel, who is not too bright when thinking up projects, but keeps the abbey in good order when a visiting Abbess gives him a list of chores.

My Abbey. Over time, I, the Abbott, have allowed my various brother monks to have more or less influence over my decisions. Carlos had his run, much to the chagrin of the Abbess, who was newly installed. But Aloysius keeps him in line. Aloysius has tended toward silence lately. He is moral enough to know that his luster, such as it is, has been dulled by association with the flock of dullards and sinners with which he shares bread.

Over the years, the more voluble of the monks  -- Preener, Aloysius, Carlos, Pugnacious -- have toned down their presence at the Abbey. Though their murmuring still echo through the abbey halls, they have grown old, tired and mostly silent. In some cases, like that of Brother Pugnacious, they have undergone conversions of heart. The calculations of Brother Lucky -- who turns his arithmetical skills inward as well as outwards -- have persuade some of our monks that their talents can bring disrepute to the Abbey and rarity of invitations to the Abbot's table. They are not entirely fools, my monks, and all have some measure of loyalty to their place of residence.

And the Abbot? He grows old, too. And some say wiser. But he is the one who keeps the secret history of the Abbey -- from its founding through the recruiting of the monks who have taken residence here, through tumultuous periods of infighting when the more ebullient brothers took their turns at the Abbott's table. Today, my table is frequented more by the quieter monks of the early years; those who were elbowed out of the way during the wild, strange period. And a few monks, locked into their cells in the very early days, were released from their bondage. Cecil was one, whose sweet pluckings and chants went unheard for many years. And Brother Solomon, who sentenced himself to internal exile, unable to endure the taunts and jeers of monks from other abbeys.

Yet these are all my brothers. I call upon them all of the for counsel from time to time. And may the Creator and Father of us all guide me to choose wisely among them.

Worship in the age of science

I've been doing lots of reading lately on the science side of my personality. "The Violinist's Thumb," by Sam Kean, lays out our genetic history, as told by our own DNA. For instance, the surprisingly homogeneous nature of DNA from peoples all over the planet suggests that humankind has encountered several genetic "bottlenecks," one as recent as 70,000 years ag, that nearly made us extinct. The few dozen or thousands of humans (scientists disagree) who survived these events (in one case, a globe-encircling, plant-choking cloud of volcanic ash and sulfurous oxide) gave rise to every living human on the planet. Even the fact that we carry 46 chromosomes (rather than the 48 of most primates) can be traced to the chance passing of certain families of protohumans through such bottlenecks.

On the cosmic front, scientists studying the beginning of the universe continue to make amazing discoveries. We have long know that our bodies are stardust -- chemicals whose origin is in the high-pressure fiery furnaces at the hearts of stars. The nitrogen and oxygen we breathe, as well as the carbon and phosphorus in our bones, was fused from hydrogen and helium when a star ran out of those primordial ingredients.

Even the history of life on our planet shows unmistakable signs that slow, natural forces--not instantaneous divine ones--drove the development of life. For instance, while simple microbes established themselves quickly in as soon as the Earth cooled enough to sustain oceans, life was stalled there for a 1 billion years. The problem that had to be solved involved energy. Microbes could not produce enough energy for an organism to waste developing cilia or a nervous system or predation. Only when cells learned to capture energy through sunlight and store it in mitochondria, could more complex forms of life developed. Which they did, postehaste.

But where is God in all of this? The creation stories place God in the center of creation, willing its every component and movement. He created light. He caused the seas to separate from land. He caused animal and vegetable life to sprout on the Earth. Science has given God less and less to create, allowing the blind forces of chemistry and physics to shoulder the load. The atheists in the scientific community are crowing, having pushed God off his throne, and off his divine perch as Creator.

What's a believer to do?

It may be that science is doing religion a favor by becoming the chief explainer of the physical world. Religion has only become foolish when insisting it has the chops to explain thunder (the anger of gods), sickness and death (the punishments of God) or cosmic origins (creation stories). It may be that God's working in the physical world are nonexistent, or invisible to us.

But that does give God a rather wide-open field: the moral universe.

Science can inform us about the limits of our will by showing how our minds are subtly influenced by race, gender, appearance. It can provide insights into our sexual behavior by showing the differences between cultural norms or our similarities to other animals. Buts it's hard to see how science can tell us whether love of neighbor should be valued, or under what circumstances. It cannot tell us whether having a preferential option for the poor is good for the soul, even if "soul" cannot be defined.

I am more than willing to cede the entirety of explaining the physical universe to scientists. God knows, religious people have shown themselves unable to be right about anything scientific. And they should stop trying. We have built up a civilization that rides over the top of the physical universe that is made of chemicals, but not subservient to them.Our physical bodies may be clever machines that fall through space in accord with the laws of gravitational physics, but our spirits can still soar and our imaginations take off, contradicting any mere law of physics.

Our encounter with God may no longer be by marvelling at a sunset or enjoy the coolness of a waterfall's spray. but it may still come in the higher and more abstract realms -- where love and truth shall meet and justice and peace shall kiss.

Easy does it, Mr. Mustard

With the new movies "Son of God" of the theaters, I figured we were again going to lose sight of what Jesus meant by the Kingdom. Got me thinking about what we could glean about it from what he said about it. A little forensic analysis into the mind of Christ, if you will.

Both John the Baptist and St. Paul were pretty sure the Kingdom was right around the corner.

He said to the crowds who came out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?...Even now the ax lies at the root of the trees. Therefore every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.” (Luke 3:7,9)

 Holy Polycarp! The chopper, determined to cut down the rotten tree, has made his decision, walked to the offending plant and has laid his axe against the root of the tree, measuring the the swing that will start its demise. All that's left is to raise the axe and bring it down. Repent of your sins now, and dodge the axe!

Paul was similarly insistent that the end was near, and tied to comfort those who worries that their lost loved ones might miss out on Jesus's coming.

Indeed, we tell you this, on the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord,^* will surely not precede those who have fallen asleep....Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together^* with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Thus we shall always be with the Lord. (1 Thessalonians 4:15,17)

"We who are alive, who are left." Seems Paul was expecting to be among those witnessing the return of Christ firsthand.

But what of Jesus? Did he expect the Kingdom to arrive soon? a number of parables and sayings seem to indicate that he did.

Truly I say to you, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see the kingdom of God.” Luke 9:27

Whatever the Kingdom of God may be, people alive in the early first century would see it.

And to another he said, “Follow me.” But he replied, “Let me go first and bury my father.”But he answered him, “Let the dead bury their dead. But you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” And another said, “I will follow you, Lord, but first let me say farewell to my family at home.” Jesus said, “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God.” Luke 9:59-62

These can be interpreted several ways, not all of which suggest that the Kingdom is coming soon. It might only teach whether people are fit for it.

For some really mind bending paradoxes about the Kingdom, check out this section from Luke 17:

Asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, he said in reply, “The coming of the kingdom of God cannot be observed,and no one will announce, ‘Look, here it is,’ or, ‘There it is.’ For behold, the kingdom of God is among you.” (Luke 17:20-21)

This might suggest something different from a standard apocalyptical understanding - that God is about to destroy and remake the world. Sounds almost warm and fuzzy. But check what follows immediately after:

As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be in the days of the Son of Man; they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage up to the day that Noah entered the ark, and the flood came and destroyed them all. Similarly, as it was in the days of Lot: they were eating, drinking, buying, selling, planting, building; on the day when Lot left Sodom, fire and brimstone rained from the sky to destroy them all.So it will be on the day the Son of Man is revealed. On that day, a person who is on the housetop and whose belongings are in the house must not go down to get them, and likewise a person in the field must not return to what was left behind. Remember the wife of Lot.Whoever seeks to preserve his life will lose it, but whoever loses it will save it. (Luke: 7:26-33)

Basically, Jesus here is talking mass cataclysm. And one where, when it happens, you have to run like hell, not falter, not look back and not try to save the photo albums.

So what do we make of all these verses? Are they all true simultaneously -- that the arrival of the Kingdom will coming like the destruction of a flood, but is also already present?

Obviously, no cataclysm has occurred, which suggests to some (Paul, for instance) that it is still in the future. But if the arrival of the Kingdom was really in the future, then why the big hurry? Was it, in effect, a manipulation to keep us always on our toes? Doesn't seem like the approach of a loving Father to me.

Another solution is to see the cataclysm as a spiritual one -- perhaps as the death and restoration to life of Jesus himself. That takes us off the hook, with Jesus's somehow taking on the whole guilt of humanity, cancelled the need for the destruction that John the Baptist warned about. Jesus not only took the bullet, but the H-bomb of God's wrath.

Still another solution is to see the Kingdom as wrought by God's people, rather than directly by God. That's the point of view that gives us songs like City of God ("Let us build the city of God," etc.). Warm and comforting, but maybe leaves God curiously not in charge.

And there's also the possibility that Jesus, John and Paul were just wrong, caught up in the deluded messianic and apocalyptic vibe of their day.

But I wonder if we can hearken back to another of Jesus's parables, about the mustard seed.

He proposed another parable to them. “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that a person took and sowed in a field. It is the smallest of all the seeds, yet when full-grown it is the largest of plants. It becomes a large bush, and the ‘birds of the sky come and dwell in its branches.’” Matthew 13:31-32

This parable has none of the eschatological drama of Jesus's other teachings. It suggests slow growth, not sudden destruction. Like the parable of the yeast, it suggests a gradual process that, given time, will suffuse the whole. It suggests a process that takes place out of sight, unguided by the hand of humans.

Did Jesus start out as a raving apocalyptic preacher (in the mold of John), but who tempered his preaching as his ministry progressed? Do the various proclamations of the Kingdom (and its terrifying arrival) represent a melange of stages in a progression of thought rather than its paradoxical, yet coherent, expression? Did the evangelists collects Jesus's true words, but present them out of sequence?

Only God knows. But after two thousand years, we need to wrestle with the idea that the catastrophe has not come, and is only useful to those pushing the idea of mankind's wickedness and need for destruction. Perhaps that alone is enough to embrace the mustard seed rather than the ax