the online magazine about life as a creative process

 

Where are we from?

 

by Dominick Romano

 

 

     
 

Where are we from? As important as it may be to understand one’s ethnic origin and cultural identity, there’s a bigger question that every child, sooner or later, asks of their parents: “Where do people come from?” In each culture according to its fashion, every child gets an answer. For me, growing up in suburban New Jersey in the 1950s, it was:
Question: “Who made us?”
Answer: “God made us.”

As I grew up, I began to find another answer to that question. This other school of thinking did not grapple with the same questions of right and wrong that was the thinking and training of Christianity. But it taught me to believe in something at least as intoxicating as the divinity of the origins – the possibility that the world around us was constructed in such a way that we could actually make sense of it. This great secular faith drew strength from a culture in which science seemed to fuel not only the fires of imagination, but the fires of industry as well. And this faith extended to living things, which yielded, like everything else in the natural world, to the analysis of science.

It seems like a presumption of atheism or agnosticism goes hand in hand with believing in evolution. It is simply taken for granted that smart, modern, well-informed people have risen above the level of petty superstition, which is exactly how serious faith is regarded. In this day and age, Religion as culture, in the sense of Jewish culture, Islamic custom, and even Christian tradition, maybe grudgingly accorded obligatory respect—just enough, to evade the charge of cultural imperialism. But religion itself, genuine belief, just does not belong. Partly, this is the fault of religion, which has become stagnant in its teachings, annually, weekly repeating the same message without any clarity or connection to what is transpiring today.

If asked to justify such attitudes many of us will often claim that science has proven many of our concepts of God, our ideas of where we came from, how we got here wrong and that science is the only authority. Many of us believe that scientific inquiry has ruled out the divine. I believe nothing of the sort is true. To me, the key is the two working together

I believe that evolution does not prelude the idea of a God.
Question: “Who made us?”
Answer: “God made us through evolution.”

For many of our ancestors the sun was a God itself to be worshiped. To The Egyptians he was Amon-Ra. To the Greeks he was drawn across the sky by Apollo in a chariot of gold. This list goes on, punctuated by tales of mass panic when the sun’s its rays were lost at the height of a total solar eclipse.

It is easy to see how our sun gained such status. The perceived movements of the sun define our days and nights, its warmth creates our seasons, and its energy grows the food that nourishes and all of nature. To attribute all this to a power supernatural is understandable, maybe even logical.
If the sun’s place in human imagination was once divine, its demotion to the status of mere matter surely began when Anaxagoras argued in 434 B.C. that the sun was “just” a ball of fire floating in the air above the earth’s surface To be sure, Anaxagoras’s analysis, which placed the sun a mere
4,000 miles above the surface of the earth, left a little to be desired.

Despite the inadequacies of his analysis, it turns out that Anaxagoras’ contemporaries were not at all amused by his calculations. He was condemned by his authorities and banned for life from the city of Athens, such was the rage of its citizens against the notion that the sun could be explained as mere matter.

Despite the achievements in science over the last 100 years, none of us could suggest that our understanding of this planet, the universe and ourselves is so complete that we should close up shop. The more we investigate, the closer we get to merging our spiritual selves with our physical selves. Scientific materialism assumes that the objects and events of the natural world can be explained in terms of their material properties.

When Kirchoff found that sodium in the laboratory produced a dark line identical to one of the Fraunhofer lines in the solar spectrum, he instinctively made use of that key assumption. If only one element can produce that line on earth, he reasoned, and then only that very same element could produce it on the sun. By assuming that the laws of physics and chemistry are constant, Kirchoff and others extended the experimental reach of science all the way to the sun, 93 million miles away.

It is true that scientific materialism makes a considerable leap of faith. At its core is the belief that natural phenomena can be explained by material causes. That belief, of course, could be challenged.

If I wanted to oppose the assumption of materialism, I might walk into a meeting of solar physicists, for example, and then claim that the sun does not contain helium. Someone in the group would be likely to ask a simple question: “How, then, do explain the 587.6 nanometer emission peak in the solar atmosphere?” My response: I do not have to explain it! Light from the sun, I would claim, is a miracle. Supernatural forces are responsible for that light, such forces are responsible for that light, and such forces are beyond scientific explanation. This explanation, regardless how un-scientific, is just as valid as any other… based on whether your perspective is scientific or spiritual.

Rather than try to destroy the other side’s viewpoint, we need to find the key that will bring the two sides together. Then and only then can we fully understand what and who we are. To do that, we must work with an open mind and create a bridge between the two forms of thinking. If we look backwards into our cultures and our histories, the world was pretty much viewed as an unchanging place. Ideology was rigidly stamped into the mindset of people by a blind faith. In order for us to become truly evolved in the spirit our minds must be open to all the possibilities. That is, not necessarily let go of old concepts, but be ready to redefine them with new information and ideas. In other words, build upon what is there with fresh spiritual mortar.

 
     
 

 

     
 

Dominick Romano is the author of The Evolution of the Soul (2003), from which this article is adapted. He also wrote The Rooster Raising the Chick (2000) and My Heart & Mind (2001). He lives in Madison, NJ with his daughter Daniela.

 
     

 

     
   
     

 

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