Once upon a time already ancient, someone decided that divinities needed to be esoteric, insubstantial,
ineffable, incorporeal, evanescent, abstract or whatever it takes to describe a being who cannot be detected
with ordinary senses. The Greeks were inspired early by this idea, abandoning their terrific pantheon up on
Mount Olympus in favor of some intangible prime mover.
One problem with such a list of adjectives, including “intangible,” is that “imaginary” fits right into the
collection. The creator becomes the created in the minds of many who learn to see the works of prophets
and theologians as not so different from those of the legend makers, myth spinners, epic composers,
playwrights, novelists and screen writers.
The alternative remains silly to the modern mind. There literally is not and never was any gang of gods and
goddesses on a mountain in Greece. There was no Jupiter lording it over Rome. We have days of the
week named for the Norse gods, but there was no real place called Valhalla.
We are told to “love God,” but it’s hard to honestly enlist the emotions when there is nothing to see, hear,
smell, touch or taste. Stories of a babe in a manger arouse feelings of devotion and concern. Tales of a
furious lord hurling lightning bolts inspire dread and awe. But descriptions of a “Prime Mover” only stir the
waters of apathy and boredom.
With modern science, particularly the fields of physics, astronomy and evolution, it would be difficult to get
any educated adult to really believe in any of the ancient myths, from the Leprechauns, Puck and dragons,
to Odin, Beowulf and Santa Claus. These days they all are seen as mere metaphors possibly based on the
lives of real humans in the past, such as Saint Nicholas.
In Catechism, we learned the answer to the first two questions:
Q: Who made us?
A: God made us.
Q: Who is God?
A: God is the Supreme Being, Creator of the universe.
It’s hard to argue with the logic that if the “Supreme Being” created the universe, then He must have been
the one who created us, since we are certainly part of the universe.
The irrationality comes in the question “Who made us?” There is the assumption that we were made, and
the assumption that the source of our creation was a “who” and not a “what.” Of course, there is always
the assumption that the one providing the answers knows and reveals the truth. All of those are broad
leaps of faith.
But logic gets us nowhere when it comes to devotion. In Yoga, the distinction is made between jnana, the
way of thought, and bhakti, the way of devotion. We have it in us to love something, someone, somehow
that is greater and more profound than the sum of the parts.
Atheists can revel in the existential pit of nothingness that each of us finds at the core of our soul, but to
what can the true believer give his heart in this age of subatomic particles and cosmology?
I have some suggestions.
When I read the book Wind: How the Flow of Air Has Shaped Life, Myth and the Land by Jan DeBlieu,
I was fascinated by her interpretation of the opening words of the Gospel according to John. “In the
beginning was the Word,” he wrote, "and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
Ms DeBlieu tells us that the word that John used for “word” could mean word, breath, or wind. This
makes sense. Words originated in the world of sound, and sound is a function of air. But what is air?
Here on Earth we define air as a mixture of mostly nitrogen and oxygen along with a smattering of other
gases. The atmosphere was very different on this planet a long time ago, before the plants freed so much
oxygen, but if the residents of the primitive age could have talked about it, I’m sure they would still have
considered it to be their “air.” It’s the atmosphere. It’s gas. Some planets have an atmosphere without
nitrogen. These are such cold places that the N2 molecules have precipitated into a solid or liquid form,
leaving the atmosphere to be dominated by molecules of hydrogen and helium.
We normally think of outer space as being an empty vacuum, but that is only because of its current low
density. For a little while a long time ago, right after the Big Bang, the baby universe was so dense that
even light could not get through. But it was expanding. The subatomic particles, atoms and molecules
were moving away from each other even as they formed clusters. Three quarks come together to form a
proton. A proton and an electron join forces to become an atom. Two atoms link up to become a
molecule of hydrogen.
A short time after the initial explosion, the universe has become an expanding cloud of hydrogen and
helium, the breath of creation, the word, the spirit.
Not good enough, some might say. How can we have a god who is nothing more than molecules of inert
gas? Where is the will? Where is the heart? Where is the wisdom? Where is the love?
How can a noxious fume be all-knowing? How can a huge belch of vapor be all-powerful?
To start, a molecule of gas is already a complex organization of atoms, which are themselves combinations
of protons, neutrons and electrons. The protons and neutrons are themselves each a tiny alliance of three
quarks.
So is the Word nothing more than a vast mass of quarks and electrons? I’m sure that most of us would
choose to receive our lessons in subatomic particle theory from quantum physicists rather than from ancient
prophets and apostles. Still, John may have been on to something.
“… The Hebrew word ruwach can be translated to mean spirit, breath, or wind.
Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible lists its primary definition …"
John was writing to a community of farmers and fishermen. It’s not surprising that he didn’t use words
like “quark” or “electron.” Nevertheless, that was what he was talking about.
This expanding cloud of gas was hardly inert. It was and is in motion, so it’s not just air; it is wind, breath,
voice, word. Once the early condensation of mass had reached the molecular level, there was room for the
light to shine through. Light is energy.
“In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness; And the darkness
grasped it not.” (John 1,4-5)
Have you ever listened to the wind? Have you ever felt its majesty? Have you ever heard it sigh through
the trees? Have you felt its thrumming deep in the wood of a mast or a pole? Have you seen it whirling?
Have you felt the emotions of anger, serenity, loneliness or joy in its whispers in the branches of trees or its
howl in the sky?
How about all-powerful? Everything in the universe that has been done has been done by this Big Bang
Breeze. Every star and every planet has been forged from its matter and energy. If we look for
expressions of its will, heart, wisdom or love we can look anywhere at the action, beauty, understanding
and adoration that spring from every niche of creation.
Before Yahweh, before the Prime Mover, primitive people looked to reality for deeper explanations of our
experience here on Earth. One feature that was hard to miss was the Sun. Astronomers tell us that, due to
the vast scale of things, we are actually part of the sun. From a distance the ninety-three million miles is
negligible. Up close we can tell the difference. That difference is a good place to start if we are to discover
a modern theology that embraces all of the discoveries of science and at the same time provides resonance
with human senses and emotions. Deep tales about the origins of the galaxies are great for the deep
thinkers of the tribe. But for immediate consumption we want to know who is our father, and who is our
mother?
I believe in God, the Father almighty. When we were children we lay on our backs on a sloping lawn and
gazed with closed eyes into the mystery of the sun. As a people we have always worshipped the sun.
ineffable, incorporeal, evanescent, abstract or whatever it takes to describe a being who cannot be detected
with ordinary senses. The Greeks were inspired early by this idea, abandoning their terrific pantheon up on
Mount Olympus in favor of some intangible prime mover.
One problem with such a list of adjectives, including “intangible,” is that “imaginary” fits right into the
collection. The creator becomes the created in the minds of many who learn to see the works of prophets
and theologians as not so different from those of the legend makers, myth spinners, epic composers,
playwrights, novelists and screen writers.
The alternative remains silly to the modern mind. There literally is not and never was any gang of gods and
goddesses on a mountain in Greece. There was no Jupiter lording it over Rome. We have days of the
week named for the Norse gods, but there was no real place called Valhalla.
We are told to “love God,” but it’s hard to honestly enlist the emotions when there is nothing to see, hear,
smell, touch or taste. Stories of a babe in a manger arouse feelings of devotion and concern. Tales of a
furious lord hurling lightning bolts inspire dread and awe. But descriptions of a “Prime Mover” only stir the
waters of apathy and boredom.
With modern science, particularly the fields of physics, astronomy and evolution, it would be difficult to get
any educated adult to really believe in any of the ancient myths, from the Leprechauns, Puck and dragons,
to Odin, Beowulf and Santa Claus. These days they all are seen as mere metaphors possibly based on the
lives of real humans in the past, such as Saint Nicholas.
In Catechism, we learned the answer to the first two questions:
Q: Who made us?
A: God made us.
Q: Who is God?
A: God is the Supreme Being, Creator of the universe.
It’s hard to argue with the logic that if the “Supreme Being” created the universe, then He must have been
the one who created us, since we are certainly part of the universe.
The irrationality comes in the question “Who made us?” There is the assumption that we were made, and
the assumption that the source of our creation was a “who” and not a “what.” Of course, there is always
the assumption that the one providing the answers knows and reveals the truth. All of those are broad
leaps of faith.
But logic gets us nowhere when it comes to devotion. In Yoga, the distinction is made between jnana, the
way of thought, and bhakti, the way of devotion. We have it in us to love something, someone, somehow
that is greater and more profound than the sum of the parts.
Atheists can revel in the existential pit of nothingness that each of us finds at the core of our soul, but to
what can the true believer give his heart in this age of subatomic particles and cosmology?
I have some suggestions.
When I read the book Wind: How the Flow of Air Has Shaped Life, Myth and the Land by Jan DeBlieu,
I was fascinated by her interpretation of the opening words of the Gospel according to John. “In the
beginning was the Word,” he wrote, "and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
Ms DeBlieu tells us that the word that John used for “word” could mean word, breath, or wind. This
makes sense. Words originated in the world of sound, and sound is a function of air. But what is air?
Here on Earth we define air as a mixture of mostly nitrogen and oxygen along with a smattering of other
gases. The atmosphere was very different on this planet a long time ago, before the plants freed so much
oxygen, but if the residents of the primitive age could have talked about it, I’m sure they would still have
considered it to be their “air.” It’s the atmosphere. It’s gas. Some planets have an atmosphere without
nitrogen. These are such cold places that the N2 molecules have precipitated into a solid or liquid form,
leaving the atmosphere to be dominated by molecules of hydrogen and helium.
We normally think of outer space as being an empty vacuum, but that is only because of its current low
density. For a little while a long time ago, right after the Big Bang, the baby universe was so dense that
even light could not get through. But it was expanding. The subatomic particles, atoms and molecules
were moving away from each other even as they formed clusters. Three quarks come together to form a
proton. A proton and an electron join forces to become an atom. Two atoms link up to become a
molecule of hydrogen.
A short time after the initial explosion, the universe has become an expanding cloud of hydrogen and
helium, the breath of creation, the word, the spirit.
Not good enough, some might say. How can we have a god who is nothing more than molecules of inert
gas? Where is the will? Where is the heart? Where is the wisdom? Where is the love?
How can a noxious fume be all-knowing? How can a huge belch of vapor be all-powerful?
To start, a molecule of gas is already a complex organization of atoms, which are themselves combinations
of protons, neutrons and electrons. The protons and neutrons are themselves each a tiny alliance of three
quarks.
So is the Word nothing more than a vast mass of quarks and electrons? I’m sure that most of us would
choose to receive our lessons in subatomic particle theory from quantum physicists rather than from ancient
prophets and apostles. Still, John may have been on to something.
“… The Hebrew word ruwach can be translated to mean spirit, breath, or wind.
Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible lists its primary definition …"
John was writing to a community of farmers and fishermen. It’s not surprising that he didn’t use words
like “quark” or “electron.” Nevertheless, that was what he was talking about.
This expanding cloud of gas was hardly inert. It was and is in motion, so it’s not just air; it is wind, breath,
voice, word. Once the early condensation of mass had reached the molecular level, there was room for the
light to shine through. Light is energy.
“In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness; And the darkness
grasped it not.” (John 1,4-5)
Have you ever listened to the wind? Have you ever felt its majesty? Have you ever heard it sigh through
the trees? Have you felt its thrumming deep in the wood of a mast or a pole? Have you seen it whirling?
Have you felt the emotions of anger, serenity, loneliness or joy in its whispers in the branches of trees or its
howl in the sky?
How about all-powerful? Everything in the universe that has been done has been done by this Big Bang
Breeze. Every star and every planet has been forged from its matter and energy. If we look for
expressions of its will, heart, wisdom or love we can look anywhere at the action, beauty, understanding
and adoration that spring from every niche of creation.
Before Yahweh, before the Prime Mover, primitive people looked to reality for deeper explanations of our
experience here on Earth. One feature that was hard to miss was the Sun. Astronomers tell us that, due to
the vast scale of things, we are actually part of the sun. From a distance the ninety-three million miles is
negligible. Up close we can tell the difference. That difference is a good place to start if we are to discover
a modern theology that embraces all of the discoveries of science and at the same time provides resonance
with human senses and emotions. Deep tales about the origins of the galaxies are great for the deep
thinkers of the tribe. But for immediate consumption we want to know who is our father, and who is our
mother?
I believe in God, the Father almighty. When we were children we lay on our backs on a sloping lawn and
gazed with closed eyes into the mystery of the sun. As a people we have always worshipped the sun.
| Appropriate Deities |
| I Live For The Sun Lyrics: Go! Sun sun sun sun! Sun sun sun sun! I live for the sun (sun sun sun) Because it means fun! Pretty girls with their guys; Such a love you can't buy. Baby, they all live for the sun! Go! Sun sun sun sun! Sun sun sun sun! My girl, my girl and me (sun sun sun) We will stay right by the sea. Livin' and lovin' this way. We're with the sun every day. We, we all live for the sun! Go! Sun sun sun sun! Sun sun sun sun! Sunsets are for lovers And dads and mothers. Whoah, and little girls and their brothers? They all live for the sun! Go! Sun sun sun sun! Sun sun sun sun! Listen, listen bud. (sun sun sun) Don't be, don't be a dud. Take your girl by the hand. Walk with her in the sand. And always, Yes, always, We gotta live for the Sun sun sun sun! Sun sun sun sun! Go! Sun sun sun sun! Sun sun sun sun! Go! Sun sun sun sun! Sun sun sun sun! the Sunrays, 1966 |
The pairing of opposites is an approach, which has been explored in the philosophies of existence. There is
yin and yang. There is in and out. There is give and take.
Picture if you will the Sun as a giver and the Earth as a receiver. In so many ways this is analogous to the
mating of a man and a woman. Without the Sun, the Earth could do little more than float like a frozen ball
in this bleak neck of the universe. We see what happens at the north and south ends of this planet during
their respective winters. Even with our molten core and our volcanoes, we would be in one cold place
without the Sun.
But without us, without Earth, the Sun could shine away for billions of years without any more effect than
the inspiration that distant stars have on us.
Although the Earth appears to revolve around the sun, the ancient people believed that the Sun circled the
Earth. In actuality, so the physicists say, the two balls are orbiting one another. Not only that, but due to
the relentless reach of gravity the solar system is revolving with the rest of the galaxy, and the galaxy itself is
circling within the galactic cluster. To us these movements are little more than tiny white dots on the
nighttime sky. But the movements of our planet and our star in relationship with one another have a
tremendous effect on our lives. Day and night, summer and winter, hot and cold, bright and dark, these all
are gifts of the attraction that the Sun and the Earth have for one another.
“Our Father, who art in Heaven,” I think to myself when I watch the Sun climb from the eastern horizon.
And our Mother, who art the Earth.
The warmth of the Sun and the spinning of the planet give rise to our old friend, the Wind. Nitrogen,
oxygen, carbon dioxide and argon swirl as gas across the surface.
And then there are clouds, fog, steam and mist, water vapor in its every form. Wind and Rain are the
children of the Sun and the Earth, and their dance brings us two brothers: Lightning, the product of cyclonic
friction, and River who springs from wherever the Wind brings the Rain Cloud to tears.
When the Sun and the Earth gave birth to the Wind and the Rain, there was another daughter, she who
remained solid while the water and air melted and evaporated. She is the Land, and she takes the River, the
son of her siblings, leading him through her valleys and gorges, submitting to his relentless current. Together
they follow the path of least resistance until the Land and the River give birth to a daughter, the Ocean.
Then comes Lightning, flashing like the bolts of Thor, rumbling with the voice of his father. Deep in the
swirling Sea where molecules and atoms mix in random profligacy, Lightning finds favor, electrons jump,
and out of the mix is born Life, biological life as we know it and as we are.
So to whom shall we direct our praise and our gratitude? What giants in the sky shall we emulate? What
virtues shall we extoll? What heritage shall we honor?
“… and the Word was made flesh and dwelt amongst us.”
When we stand by the Ocean and listen to the rhythm of Her waves and watch the beat of Her tides, we feel
the beat of our Mother’s heart.
When we see Lightning spark the sky and we hear the rumble of His voice, we stand in awe of our Father’s
power.
When we walk through the Land with all of Her beauty and danger, we dance with the Mother of the Sea.
When we sit by the River and watch Him roll and flow, we dream of His salty daughter.
When we feel the Rain on our faces and in our hair, we bathe in the tears of the Mother of every Spring,
Brook, Creek, Stream and River.
When we run, jump, sail or fly in the Wind, whether it be wondrous, wise or wild, we kiss the lover of Rain.
When we watch the Sun rise and feel the Earth turning toward the light, we are one with the Creators of the
world as we know it.
And, when we stand at night on hill or deck and gaze at the distant planets, stars and galaxies, the rising
moon and the falling meteors, we are kin to them all. We are part of their vast, extended family.
yin and yang. There is in and out. There is give and take.
Picture if you will the Sun as a giver and the Earth as a receiver. In so many ways this is analogous to the
mating of a man and a woman. Without the Sun, the Earth could do little more than float like a frozen ball
in this bleak neck of the universe. We see what happens at the north and south ends of this planet during
their respective winters. Even with our molten core and our volcanoes, we would be in one cold place
without the Sun.
But without us, without Earth, the Sun could shine away for billions of years without any more effect than
the inspiration that distant stars have on us.
Although the Earth appears to revolve around the sun, the ancient people believed that the Sun circled the
Earth. In actuality, so the physicists say, the two balls are orbiting one another. Not only that, but due to
the relentless reach of gravity the solar system is revolving with the rest of the galaxy, and the galaxy itself is
circling within the galactic cluster. To us these movements are little more than tiny white dots on the
nighttime sky. But the movements of our planet and our star in relationship with one another have a
tremendous effect on our lives. Day and night, summer and winter, hot and cold, bright and dark, these all
are gifts of the attraction that the Sun and the Earth have for one another.
“Our Father, who art in Heaven,” I think to myself when I watch the Sun climb from the eastern horizon.
And our Mother, who art the Earth.
The warmth of the Sun and the spinning of the planet give rise to our old friend, the Wind. Nitrogen,
oxygen, carbon dioxide and argon swirl as gas across the surface.
And then there are clouds, fog, steam and mist, water vapor in its every form. Wind and Rain are the
children of the Sun and the Earth, and their dance brings us two brothers: Lightning, the product of cyclonic
friction, and River who springs from wherever the Wind brings the Rain Cloud to tears.
When the Sun and the Earth gave birth to the Wind and the Rain, there was another daughter, she who
remained solid while the water and air melted and evaporated. She is the Land, and she takes the River, the
son of her siblings, leading him through her valleys and gorges, submitting to his relentless current. Together
they follow the path of least resistance until the Land and the River give birth to a daughter, the Ocean.
Then comes Lightning, flashing like the bolts of Thor, rumbling with the voice of his father. Deep in the
swirling Sea where molecules and atoms mix in random profligacy, Lightning finds favor, electrons jump,
and out of the mix is born Life, biological life as we know it and as we are.
So to whom shall we direct our praise and our gratitude? What giants in the sky shall we emulate? What
virtues shall we extoll? What heritage shall we honor?
“… and the Word was made flesh and dwelt amongst us.”
When we stand by the Ocean and listen to the rhythm of Her waves and watch the beat of Her tides, we feel
the beat of our Mother’s heart.
When we see Lightning spark the sky and we hear the rumble of His voice, we stand in awe of our Father’s
power.
When we walk through the Land with all of Her beauty and danger, we dance with the Mother of the Sea.
When we sit by the River and watch Him roll and flow, we dream of His salty daughter.
When we feel the Rain on our faces and in our hair, we bathe in the tears of the Mother of every Spring,
Brook, Creek, Stream and River.
When we run, jump, sail or fly in the Wind, whether it be wondrous, wise or wild, we kiss the lover of Rain.
When we watch the Sun rise and feel the Earth turning toward the light, we are one with the Creators of the
world as we know it.
And, when we stand at night on hill or deck and gaze at the distant planets, stars and galaxies, the rising
moon and the falling meteors, we are kin to them all. We are part of their vast, extended family.
| Yoga for Carnivores by Jay Dyck |
| Cougar Press PO Box 894 Meadview AZ 86444 |
