Augustine on Creation

Preparing for Sunday’s sermon on Genesis 1, I stumbled upon this little gem from Augustine of Hippo (written @ 1500 years ago).

Often a non-Christian knows something of the earth, the heavens, the motions and the orbits of the stars, and this knowledge he holds with certainty from reason and experience.  It is thus offensive and disgraceful for an unbeliever to hear a Christian talk nonsense about such things, claiming that what he is say is based on Scripture.  We should do all we can to avoid such embarrassment, which people see as ignorance in the Christian and laugh to scorn.  (From The Literal Meaning of Genesis)

A Rant: Removing the Roadblocks

Pardon me, but I need to rant a bit today. That means this post will undoubtedly include some ridiculous overstatement, silly generalization, or other ungodly use of words. So I ask your forgiveness in advance. But I just can’t help myself.

My rant is in response to an email I received recently. It was from a dear friend who was looking for a book recommendation. The book was not for him, but for a family member who apparently has turned her back on the Christian faith (any book recommendations out there?). While explaining his request, he gave a fistful of reasons for her rejection, but the one that really stuck in my craw was one I’ve heard all too often. This young woman–a bright student in finishing her masters degree in biology at a large university–is under the impression that you can’t be a Christian AND be an intelligent scientific thinker. Her proof? The (misinformed) impression she has that all Christians believe (and must believe) that dinosaurs never existed, that the earth is 6,000 years old, that there is no such thing as evolution in any shape or form.

Don’t get me wrong. You are entitled to conclude from your reading of Genesis 1-2 that God created the world in a very short time (even 6, 24 hour days). You may believe, if you really think it best, that the dinosaur bones that have been found just west of Denver were a part of God’s elaborate plan to create a young earth that merely looked old (on par with giving Adam and Eve belly buttons). You can even insist that the earth is a mere 6,000 years old. You may think all those things and I will have no beef with you. Just don’t tell me that I have to believe all those things. More importantly, don’t tell my young friend that she has to.

There are a lot of reasons I’d prefer Christians don’t run around insisting on this narrow interpretation of Scripture. For one, I (and many other Bible-believing Christians) believe that there are other (better?) ways to interpret the text–ways that remain faithful to Genesis’ original intent but not at odds with scientific findings. I think that looking to Genesis 1 to see just how old the earth is and exactly “how it happened” is starting in the wrong place–that when we do that we’re asking questions the text isn’t trying to answer. I think that the text may not be trying to tell us exactly how God created the cosmos (I can’t understand why God would think it necessary to tell us that–first thing!)–but that he created it (I can understand why God would want us to know that). I may elaborate on that in a later post (depending on how much trouble I get in for this one), but that’s not really my main point here. My main point is that there are sound reasons for having a different understanding of Genesis 1 and that to insist that there is only one–and that it’s the one that seems to contradict so much science–is to put up an unnecessary roadblock to the Christian faith. I’d even go to say that, depending on the severity of the insistence, it may even be making the Christian faith about something it is not.

Let me explain that last sentence–and pardon the tangential thinking. Remember, this is a rant.

Here in Denver, it’s not uncommon to see “Darwin Fish” plastered on the bumpers of the Subaru’s in the King Soopers parking lot. You know the ones–they have fins, feet, and often, gaping mouths that are chomping down the “Jesus fish”. There are probably a lot of things that could be said about those fish (either the Darwin fish or the Jesus fish). But for today, just take a moment and notice the interest pairing that is happening here. The Darwin symbol–which represents one interpretation of the way the world came about–is paired with a Jesus symbol. I don’t expect anything on a bumper to be too profound, but in my mind, this should be an apples to oranges comparison–a confusion of categories. After all, when I want people to know Jesus and to become Christians, what I want for them to know is all the life, salvation, holiness, joy, fulfilment, meaning, hope, and redemption that can be theirs in Christ Jesus…not some particular understanding of all the details of the way this world came about. To be sure, we have something to say about that as Christians–but it’s not our main concern. Yet the pairing of the Darwin/Jesus fish on so many bumpers suggests that, at least in the minds of many (presumably) non-Christians–that is our (and Jesus’!) main concern. If that’s the message we’re sending, no wonder so many people remain disinterested–or even scornful–from the “Christian” faith.

That’s one of the tragic ironies of all the energy that many Christians have been pouring into the Creationist debate. They’ve been fighting for “truth” in what may be considered a peripheral issue, but in the process have but up unnecessary roadblocks for those who might come to know the Truth, the way, and the life. In my mind, that is something worth ranting about.

Food, Farms, and Faith

My friend Becky grew up on a large farm in central Iowa but has since moved to the booming metropolis of Grand Rapids, MI. Some time ago, she was reflecting on the transition. There are things she likes about living in the city, she said. But even so, there are times she feels, well, “disoriented.”

I didn’t quite understand what she meant at first. But I hazarded a few guesses.

“Hmmm. Disoriented.” I said, “Like when you’re downtown and the streets aren’t straight? Or in a suburb and keeping hitting cul-de-sacs?”

“No…”

“Okay, like when the sun doesn’t shine for four months and you no longer know if its day or night?”

“No…”

Becky then went on to explain that she felt “disoriented” because she had lost her connection with the earth and therefore had no way of keeping time. Back on the farm, she and her family lived into the regular rhythms of the land. Planting. Irrigating. Harvesting. Resting. Their lives changed with the seasons.

But back in Michigan, Becky went to her office every day. She sat in a windowless, climate controlled room (sweaters in the summer, short sleeves in the winter!). It now made little difference to her and her livelihood if there were droughts or floods. She could still go to Meijers–even in February–and buy her tomatoes, asparagus, and whatever else she wanted to eat.

Becky’s disorientation is something that all of us who live in the city face–even if we were never blessed to be “oriented” by farm life. Because all of us are separated from the earth. I read recently that the average meal in America travels 1,200 miles before ending up on our plates. A friend of mine (who’s much better with these things than I am) once calculated that to get a single strawberry from California to the produce isle in a Northwest Iowa grocery store takes nearly 600 calories of energy (a huge net loss!). I’ve also been told that the tuna that is served in Manhattan’s finest Sushi restaurants is caught on the Atlantic coast of the US, shipped to the fish markets in Tokyo, sold, and then shipped back to New York. In other words, that tuna goes around the world before it ends up on the plate of the American consumer (and this is not all that unusual in our food system).

There are, of course, tremendous ecological implications to all of this. Most obviously–there are all the extra costs involved (both in terms of finances and natural resources), and the generally unsustainable nature of this system. But there is a more subtle danger too. If we are separated from the means of production–separated from the land–and have no idea how our food is grown (or raised), then we will have little interest in the way the land is used (or the animals are treated). This alone should give us pause. (By the way, Wendell Berry is excellent on this point.)

But we should also consider what all these degrees of separation between us and the land do to our relationship with our Creator. If we spend our days in climate controlled offices, cooped up in our cars or even on the city bus, if depend solely on King Soopers to provide us with our food (Tomatoes in February!)–then not only will we be separated from the land, we will also be separated from the One who made and upholds the land.

This is a point that was brought home to me by Rob Bell recently. Bell argues that there are many people who struggle with needless doubts and faith crises. They complain that God seems too far away, that he is distant. But it’s no wonder, says Bell. When we don’t take time to notice God’s handiwork, when we no longer need to pray to and depend upon him for daily bread, when he becomes a peripheral consideration in the meeting of our daily needs–then undoubtedly, he will seem a long ways away. But really, says Bell, it’s not God who is a long way from us. It’s we who are a long way from Him.

Where we get our food–our relationship with the land–can drastically affect our faith. If we are cut off from the creation, we will (almost) certainly face some spiritual “disorientation.”

So what’s the upshot of all this? Well, I’m suggesting that we all do what we can to get connected–with the Creation and the Creator. Start a garden next spring. Try to eat a locally grown meal. Walk instead of driving. Get connected with the creation. And the Creator.

If want to read more on the topic, I’d suggest the writings of Wendell Berry (particularly his “Jayber Crow” Novels, but also his essays, if you’re ambitious), Kathleen Norris (“Dakota” is a great read).