Monday, January 18, 2010
RELIGIOUS ENERGY AND REASON
Every once in a while, life has a way of encouraging me to re-examine my spiritual beliefs. Born into a Baptist family, and accepting the fundamentalist Christian tenants on faith as a child, this time I explored this religion from a different perspective.
When people think and talk about Jesus, they concentrate on matters concerning his divinity, his life, his teachings, his message of salvation. But what has captured my attention of late is the idea of energy: his concentrated use of energy, an energy I believe, not just by faith but also by reason, that was connected to the divine and bolstered by faith. The circumstances of his early life are virtually unknown, but there is no denying the fact that he emerged as an adult with the conviction that he had a mission. A divine mission.
As I reread the gospel of Mark, the earliest gospel, four passages leapt out at me. The first was when, in Mark 4:10, his disciples ask him about his teaching in parables, and Jesus replied:
“… But to those on the outside, everything is said in parables, so that they may be seeing but never perceiving, and ever hearing but never understanding; otherwise they might turn and be forgiven!” (Mark 4:11-12)
Now, this is very curious. Why would Jesus want some people not to understand? He goes on to explain in the next eight verses that faith lies at the heart of his thinking: no spiritual “root,” troubles, spiritual persecution, worries, the deceitfulness of wealth, the desires for other things—all these destroy faith. Without faith, it is impossible to grasp the meaning of his parables.
But there’s more. For he’s also saying here—that were he to speak plainly—people of little or no faith could understand him, might make a decision to “turn,” and would be forgiven. Basing their decision on their rational mind rather than on faith.
Which goes against what many of us have been taught, for we are often told that God requires faith alone for salvation—but here (and remember, Jesus is speaking to his disciples alone, not in parables), Jesus says people can be saved by reason.
I believe he was looking for the energy that faith generates. That there is a two-way circuitry between humanity and the divine, and that faith is the energy source on our end. And that this energy was necessary for the completion of his mission, and that to do so, he needed it in a pure form.
To put it in a way we can understand, a strong concentration of energy was required to firmly establish the link between man (as embodied in Jesus) and the divine (God). A link through reason would have to wait until later in this unfolding plan.
The second passage that caught my attention was when, while walking through a large crowd, a woman grasped Jesus’ cloak without his knowledge, in an effort to be healed. Here’s what it says:
“Immediately the bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering.
At once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and asked, ‘Who touched my clothes?’” (Mark 6:29-30)
This very much sounds like energy transferal—an energy that she gained through her faith, and one whose effect—even though he wasn’t consciously aware of it at the time—he felt immediately.
And then there’s this, the famous quote that has come down to our times: “A Prophet Without Honor.” Throughout the gospels, there are numerous accounts of Jesus performing miracles—healing people, casting out demons, turning water into wine, raising people from the dead. But there is one notable exception, and that is when he returns to his hometown.
There, as he teaches in the synagogue, many are amazed. But then, as they remember that he is just a man—a carpenter, a son, a brother—they take offense. Mark goes on to say,
“He could not do any miracles there, except lay his hands on a few sick people and heal them. And he was amazed at their lack of faith.” (Mark 6:5-6)
It seems that, without faith, his power disappeared. The circuit was broken.
The fourth thing that jumped out at me are these two passages: The first is a direct quote to his disciples:
“The secret of God has been given to you.” (Mark 4:11)
And then in Mark 4:33-34:
“With many similar parables Jesus spoke the word to them, as much as they could understand. He did not say anything to them without using a parable. But when he was alone with his own disciples, he explained everything.”
Again, curious.
Faith, obedience—and lack of worry—were at the heart of Jesus’ teachings. And, interestingly enough, these three concepts are at the core of the very first story in the Bible: The story of Adam and Eve. God asked that they have faith in Him, obey His one and only dictate, and (although they didn’t know it at the time) in return, he would provide them with a life free from worry.
What does this have to do with energy? Here is where things get interesting, for faith, obedience and lack of worry could, in a humane and productive community or society, result in social cohesion, and—a very positive energy. We see Paul developing this type of social cohesion, as he works to build the early Christian churches, most clearly in his letters to them as he stresses the concept of brotherly love and admonishes them to behave themselves.
Clearly, things have not proceeded on a smooth path from that time to ours. So, we must ask, why are faith, obedience and lack of worry so hard for us? I believe it is because of two traits, one essential to our advancement, the other essential for our survival: Curiosity and fear.
For many of us, we need to know the why of things. And here I include myself, even though faith has been my bedrock ever since I was a young child. The search for understanding is what motivates our scientists, our philosophers, our engineers. I believe Jesus had to have known that there were these innately curious people among us.
I believe that this was part of the secret he passed on to his disciples: It would be these people who would discover the principles behind the energy transferal process he was able to access. When it is operating positively between people, the academic term is the non-zero sum game: when people interact in mutually beneficial ways.
In layman’s terms, people with different beliefs are able to get along, and benefit from their interactions, if both groups feel they have something to gain (which is the essential condition). And faith has historically been an important part of this process, for by blending the common elements of their belief systems, people move closer towards social harmony.
Although it is hard to see in these troubled times—as it would have undoubtedly been in other troubled times—there has been a net positive gain in this kind of social interaction and energy over time. [For a more detailed reading on this subject, see The Evolution of God by Robert Wright.]
When we learned how this process works, this would be the point where social science and faith could converge. The increase in positive energy would be exponential, both between people—and between humanity and the divine.
At this point, we could take a conscious step forward in the working out of the divine plan.
And so now we come to fear. Which I believe is the bigger problem, for it comes in many forms, and hits the curious and non-curious alike. Even those of faith. Fear of not being loved; fear of not being loved enough; fear of others unlike us; fear that others will see us for who we really are; fear that we will lose what we have (whether it be lifestyle, traditions, relationships, belief systems, or for some, their basic subsidence or the subsidence of the planet itself); we carry fears from the past and have fear of the future; we fear for our health and that of our loved ones; we fear that if we forgive others, they won’t forgive us; and, of course, we fear death. The list goes on and on.
We think this system works, but clearly it does not. If lack of love is our issue, we can attempt to fill this void with wealth or power or distractions or vengeance (or some combination thereof), but the void remains. If fear of others or their opinion of us is the issue, we can conquer or subdue or seduce them, but other enemies or judges will emerge. If fear of loss is our concern, we will always have something to lose. If we cannot let go of our fears of the past, their harmful effects will always be with us. If we fear the future, we can be afraid to step into it with confidence. If health is our concern, we can do the right things, and still get sick. If forgiveness is our issue, we can never know if others will also forgive. And as for death, we are all going to die.
So if fear is the big concern, how does a man on a divine mission—and his followers—convince others to overcome their fears? Convince them to move into a place of faith, obedience and lack of worry—and use their reasoning ability—to increase their individual and collective energy and establish a connection to the divine? It is a 6-step process:
1. The first step involves pride, admitting you are a sinner. For some, this will be insurmountable; for others, it will be easy enough. This is the first step in firmly establishing your end of the divine energy flow, getting the process started.
2. Be willing to turn from sin. Here is where the commitment to obedience begins, and with that commitment, we are asked to have faith that the energy flow will start coming our way, from the other end—from the divine.
But, as in all transactions, we have to consider the cost. Giving up our sins in this life. Are we willing to do that? Really? After all, sinning gets us so many things we want in life. Not honoring God or others can make us feel more powerful. Stealing from others give us more. Lying often gets us what we want. Can we commit to never feeling jealous? And if adultery is defined as divorcing and remarrying again (as Jesus defined it)—well, do we really want to be stuck with our first spouse? What if that decision has already been made? [Being in that awkward position myself, I have no answer for that question, but am certainly not going to be stopped in my tracks by it.]
But, consider this: Were we to seriously turn from sin, we might be pleasantly surprised. Being a faithful husband, wife, an honest employer or worker, an all-around ethical person, might have altogether unforeseen positive benefits. It might, in fact, be a rational decision in one’s best interest—not just in the hereafter, but in this life as well.
So what is the upside of agreeing to this contractual arrangement—besides eternal salvation, besides the faith that we will receive divine energy, besides the hope that our life and relationships will go better? That we will feel better about ourselves? There is also the hope of a life free from worry—God will provide.
The only real, tangible cost: giving up our sins.
It is here, I contend, that the real leap of faith is required. That the very real cost is worth the hoped-for benefits.
Okay, say we agree to this. We will make the commitment. What next?
3. Believe Christ died in forgiveness for our sins. Nowadays (as then), people argue as to whether Jesus had the right to bestow that gift, and whether he intended it only for the Jews or for all humanity. But I think a more important question is: Do we really want this gift, this gift which wipes the slate clean? What do we have to do in return—besides giving up our sins?
Remember, Jesus asked his disciples to give up everything to follow him. And when a rich man told him he had committed no sins, Jesus told him to sell everything he owned and give it to the poor. Who knows what might be asked of us? Would we be willing to do it? Now the commitment is getting really serious.
But beyond that is the important question: Are we willing to let go of the weight of the past—the guilt, the resentments, the sorrows, that in an odd way bring us so much comfort? Are we willing to let the slate be wiped clean and start anew?
4. Believe Christ was buried. Okay, now we’re on firmer ground. Most people do believe he was buried.
5. Believe he rose from the dead. Here is the first time faith of another sort entirely enters into the picture. And what is the promise if we do believe this admittedly unbelievable proposition? Everlasting life—a permanent connection to the divine. Put that way—from a purely logical perspective—why wouldn’t we believe? Willingly suspend disbelief?
For many, because it’s simply too fantastical. But we know—just listen to any science channel show where physicists are discussing multiple universes—that there is still much that we do not know, much less understand.
Here’s a personal example of what we do not know, much less understand—involving a dead man and a burst of energy: My father-in-law had died, was in an open coffin in the reception room of the funeral home before the wake, no one had yet entered. I was with a few other family members outside. As we opened the door, a burst of bright white light leapt from the coffin, flew straight across the room at an incredible speed, and hit me square in the chest, almost knocking me over. Were it not for the others there, I might very well have fallen to the floor from the impact. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of me, I had to sit down on a nearby bench, and it took me some time to recover. Quite naturally, my family members were concerned and more than a little confused. None of them had seen the light. But they had certainly seen the effect.
Now, clearly, my father-in-law did not rise from the dead. But then, my father-in-law was not on a divine mission. His was an earthly mission and, before his death, he received ample confirmation—from his entire community—that he had completed that mission. If a man on an earthly mission would be able to generate this kind of energy, what might a man on a divine mission be able to accomplish?
Can we really say it would be impossible for a man who felt a profound divine connection (many contend from birth), who was said by those who knew him to have demonstrated energy transferal powers, not to achieve such a feat, propelled along by the energy of his true believers?
Just a thought.
As our physicists continue to study energy in its pure form, explore the concept of multiple universes—maybe here is the point where science and faith can converge, where a rational person could believe such a thing as Jesus being raised from the dead, without thinking he had given up all reason.
6. Through prayer, invite Jesus into your life to become your personal Savior. This step can be both very comforting and have a practical value as well. By accepting this condition, we have someone always at our side—a loving, trusted advisor, as well as a constant means of communicating with him.
But beyond that, we have someone to be responsible to, which can be a mighty source of strength as we work to commit to the promises we have made—to stop our sinning ways, to be ready and willing to make whatever sacrifices might be asked of us.
So… where does this leave us?
1. There is reason to believe there is more to Jesus’ teachings than is contained in the Bible.
2. Faith alone may not be the only route to spiritual enlightenment (salvation). The rational mind positively expressing its innate curiosity may also bring a person to that point. In point of fact, if we would but allow it, they could blend together quite nicely.
The Parable of the Growing Seed says:
This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil produces grain—first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head. As soon as the grain is ripe, he puts the sickle to it, because the harvest has come. (Mark 4:26-29)
Like the seed coming to full kernel, I believe the gospel message is a live, growing entity, nurtured within our hearts (faith) and mind (reason). As the mind grows with knowledge through our curiosity, we can see the wisdom of the message.
At its core, this is a message of wiping the slate clean, starting over, second chances. Who among us wouldn’t want that? And this is perhaps Jesus’ greatest gift to us.
Social science tells us that self-interest can work to our advantage in a positive way, both socially and economically—if we combine it with also acknowledging the self-interest of others. Put in religious terms, we don’t have to sin to get what we want—we can cooperate. And, over time, our cooperation has been growing. Our troubled times—and others—notwithstanding.
There is a great deal of positive energy in this process. Both between people, and between humanity and the divine.
Other knowledge from the hard sciences is on the horizon. Scientists continue to pursue the nature of energy itself. We are already at the point where we have television sets that operate without the use of electrical wires, and it is foretold that soon many of our appliances will function in this manner. If inanimate objects can transmit energy invisibly, why can’t people? And why couldn’t we use this energy to connect with the divine?
And in case you’re wondering, here’s my definition of the divine: That force which propels all which is holy and good in us, connecting us to all peoples in an ever-encompassing circle, that ties us to the ground with the acceptance of our responsibilities, and lifts us to the heavens with our love.
The subject of multiple universes continues to fascinate. Unbelievable as it sounds, reputable physicists are telling us they are there. At present, those of faith believe in such a possibility and call it Heaven, while those of reason speculate—and those blessed with both do both.
In the meantime, we are all here on this earth—in this universe—and it is my fervent hope—and prayer—that each of us will have the faith and/or reason to grasp the wisdom of the one commitment this man on a divine mission himself stressed: Stop sinning.
When people think and talk about Jesus, they concentrate on matters concerning his divinity, his life, his teachings, his message of salvation. But what has captured my attention of late is the idea of energy: his concentrated use of energy, an energy I believe, not just by faith but also by reason, that was connected to the divine and bolstered by faith. The circumstances of his early life are virtually unknown, but there is no denying the fact that he emerged as an adult with the conviction that he had a mission. A divine mission.
As I reread the gospel of Mark, the earliest gospel, four passages leapt out at me. The first was when, in Mark 4:10, his disciples ask him about his teaching in parables, and Jesus replied:
“… But to those on the outside, everything is said in parables, so that they may be seeing but never perceiving, and ever hearing but never understanding; otherwise they might turn and be forgiven!” (Mark 4:11-12)
Now, this is very curious. Why would Jesus want some people not to understand? He goes on to explain in the next eight verses that faith lies at the heart of his thinking: no spiritual “root,” troubles, spiritual persecution, worries, the deceitfulness of wealth, the desires for other things—all these destroy faith. Without faith, it is impossible to grasp the meaning of his parables.
But there’s more. For he’s also saying here—that were he to speak plainly—people of little or no faith could understand him, might make a decision to “turn,” and would be forgiven. Basing their decision on their rational mind rather than on faith.
Which goes against what many of us have been taught, for we are often told that God requires faith alone for salvation—but here (and remember, Jesus is speaking to his disciples alone, not in parables), Jesus says people can be saved by reason.
I believe he was looking for the energy that faith generates. That there is a two-way circuitry between humanity and the divine, and that faith is the energy source on our end. And that this energy was necessary for the completion of his mission, and that to do so, he needed it in a pure form.
To put it in a way we can understand, a strong concentration of energy was required to firmly establish the link between man (as embodied in Jesus) and the divine (God). A link through reason would have to wait until later in this unfolding plan.
The second passage that caught my attention was when, while walking through a large crowd, a woman grasped Jesus’ cloak without his knowledge, in an effort to be healed. Here’s what it says:
“Immediately the bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering.
At once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and asked, ‘Who touched my clothes?’” (Mark 6:29-30)
This very much sounds like energy transferal—an energy that she gained through her faith, and one whose effect—even though he wasn’t consciously aware of it at the time—he felt immediately.
And then there’s this, the famous quote that has come down to our times: “A Prophet Without Honor.” Throughout the gospels, there are numerous accounts of Jesus performing miracles—healing people, casting out demons, turning water into wine, raising people from the dead. But there is one notable exception, and that is when he returns to his hometown.
There, as he teaches in the synagogue, many are amazed. But then, as they remember that he is just a man—a carpenter, a son, a brother—they take offense. Mark goes on to say,
“He could not do any miracles there, except lay his hands on a few sick people and heal them. And he was amazed at their lack of faith.” (Mark 6:5-6)
It seems that, without faith, his power disappeared. The circuit was broken.
The fourth thing that jumped out at me are these two passages: The first is a direct quote to his disciples:
“The secret of God has been given to you.” (Mark 4:11)
And then in Mark 4:33-34:
“With many similar parables Jesus spoke the word to them, as much as they could understand. He did not say anything to them without using a parable. But when he was alone with his own disciples, he explained everything.”
Again, curious.
Faith, obedience—and lack of worry—were at the heart of Jesus’ teachings. And, interestingly enough, these three concepts are at the core of the very first story in the Bible: The story of Adam and Eve. God asked that they have faith in Him, obey His one and only dictate, and (although they didn’t know it at the time) in return, he would provide them with a life free from worry.
What does this have to do with energy? Here is where things get interesting, for faith, obedience and lack of worry could, in a humane and productive community or society, result in social cohesion, and—a very positive energy. We see Paul developing this type of social cohesion, as he works to build the early Christian churches, most clearly in his letters to them as he stresses the concept of brotherly love and admonishes them to behave themselves.
Clearly, things have not proceeded on a smooth path from that time to ours. So, we must ask, why are faith, obedience and lack of worry so hard for us? I believe it is because of two traits, one essential to our advancement, the other essential for our survival: Curiosity and fear.
For many of us, we need to know the why of things. And here I include myself, even though faith has been my bedrock ever since I was a young child. The search for understanding is what motivates our scientists, our philosophers, our engineers. I believe Jesus had to have known that there were these innately curious people among us.
I believe that this was part of the secret he passed on to his disciples: It would be these people who would discover the principles behind the energy transferal process he was able to access. When it is operating positively between people, the academic term is the non-zero sum game: when people interact in mutually beneficial ways.
In layman’s terms, people with different beliefs are able to get along, and benefit from their interactions, if both groups feel they have something to gain (which is the essential condition). And faith has historically been an important part of this process, for by blending the common elements of their belief systems, people move closer towards social harmony.
Although it is hard to see in these troubled times—as it would have undoubtedly been in other troubled times—there has been a net positive gain in this kind of social interaction and energy over time. [For a more detailed reading on this subject, see The Evolution of God by Robert Wright.]
When we learned how this process works, this would be the point where social science and faith could converge. The increase in positive energy would be exponential, both between people—and between humanity and the divine.
At this point, we could take a conscious step forward in the working out of the divine plan.
And so now we come to fear. Which I believe is the bigger problem, for it comes in many forms, and hits the curious and non-curious alike. Even those of faith. Fear of not being loved; fear of not being loved enough; fear of others unlike us; fear that others will see us for who we really are; fear that we will lose what we have (whether it be lifestyle, traditions, relationships, belief systems, or for some, their basic subsidence or the subsidence of the planet itself); we carry fears from the past and have fear of the future; we fear for our health and that of our loved ones; we fear that if we forgive others, they won’t forgive us; and, of course, we fear death. The list goes on and on.
We think this system works, but clearly it does not. If lack of love is our issue, we can attempt to fill this void with wealth or power or distractions or vengeance (or some combination thereof), but the void remains. If fear of others or their opinion of us is the issue, we can conquer or subdue or seduce them, but other enemies or judges will emerge. If fear of loss is our concern, we will always have something to lose. If we cannot let go of our fears of the past, their harmful effects will always be with us. If we fear the future, we can be afraid to step into it with confidence. If health is our concern, we can do the right things, and still get sick. If forgiveness is our issue, we can never know if others will also forgive. And as for death, we are all going to die.
So if fear is the big concern, how does a man on a divine mission—and his followers—convince others to overcome their fears? Convince them to move into a place of faith, obedience and lack of worry—and use their reasoning ability—to increase their individual and collective energy and establish a connection to the divine? It is a 6-step process:
1. The first step involves pride, admitting you are a sinner. For some, this will be insurmountable; for others, it will be easy enough. This is the first step in firmly establishing your end of the divine energy flow, getting the process started.
2. Be willing to turn from sin. Here is where the commitment to obedience begins, and with that commitment, we are asked to have faith that the energy flow will start coming our way, from the other end—from the divine.
But, as in all transactions, we have to consider the cost. Giving up our sins in this life. Are we willing to do that? Really? After all, sinning gets us so many things we want in life. Not honoring God or others can make us feel more powerful. Stealing from others give us more. Lying often gets us what we want. Can we commit to never feeling jealous? And if adultery is defined as divorcing and remarrying again (as Jesus defined it)—well, do we really want to be stuck with our first spouse? What if that decision has already been made? [Being in that awkward position myself, I have no answer for that question, but am certainly not going to be stopped in my tracks by it.]
But, consider this: Were we to seriously turn from sin, we might be pleasantly surprised. Being a faithful husband, wife, an honest employer or worker, an all-around ethical person, might have altogether unforeseen positive benefits. It might, in fact, be a rational decision in one’s best interest—not just in the hereafter, but in this life as well.
So what is the upside of agreeing to this contractual arrangement—besides eternal salvation, besides the faith that we will receive divine energy, besides the hope that our life and relationships will go better? That we will feel better about ourselves? There is also the hope of a life free from worry—God will provide.
The only real, tangible cost: giving up our sins.
It is here, I contend, that the real leap of faith is required. That the very real cost is worth the hoped-for benefits.
Okay, say we agree to this. We will make the commitment. What next?
3. Believe Christ died in forgiveness for our sins. Nowadays (as then), people argue as to whether Jesus had the right to bestow that gift, and whether he intended it only for the Jews or for all humanity. But I think a more important question is: Do we really want this gift, this gift which wipes the slate clean? What do we have to do in return—besides giving up our sins?
Remember, Jesus asked his disciples to give up everything to follow him. And when a rich man told him he had committed no sins, Jesus told him to sell everything he owned and give it to the poor. Who knows what might be asked of us? Would we be willing to do it? Now the commitment is getting really serious.
But beyond that is the important question: Are we willing to let go of the weight of the past—the guilt, the resentments, the sorrows, that in an odd way bring us so much comfort? Are we willing to let the slate be wiped clean and start anew?
4. Believe Christ was buried. Okay, now we’re on firmer ground. Most people do believe he was buried.
5. Believe he rose from the dead. Here is the first time faith of another sort entirely enters into the picture. And what is the promise if we do believe this admittedly unbelievable proposition? Everlasting life—a permanent connection to the divine. Put that way—from a purely logical perspective—why wouldn’t we believe? Willingly suspend disbelief?
For many, because it’s simply too fantastical. But we know—just listen to any science channel show where physicists are discussing multiple universes—that there is still much that we do not know, much less understand.
Here’s a personal example of what we do not know, much less understand—involving a dead man and a burst of energy: My father-in-law had died, was in an open coffin in the reception room of the funeral home before the wake, no one had yet entered. I was with a few other family members outside. As we opened the door, a burst of bright white light leapt from the coffin, flew straight across the room at an incredible speed, and hit me square in the chest, almost knocking me over. Were it not for the others there, I might very well have fallen to the floor from the impact. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of me, I had to sit down on a nearby bench, and it took me some time to recover. Quite naturally, my family members were concerned and more than a little confused. None of them had seen the light. But they had certainly seen the effect.
Now, clearly, my father-in-law did not rise from the dead. But then, my father-in-law was not on a divine mission. His was an earthly mission and, before his death, he received ample confirmation—from his entire community—that he had completed that mission. If a man on an earthly mission would be able to generate this kind of energy, what might a man on a divine mission be able to accomplish?
Can we really say it would be impossible for a man who felt a profound divine connection (many contend from birth), who was said by those who knew him to have demonstrated energy transferal powers, not to achieve such a feat, propelled along by the energy of his true believers?
Just a thought.
As our physicists continue to study energy in its pure form, explore the concept of multiple universes—maybe here is the point where science and faith can converge, where a rational person could believe such a thing as Jesus being raised from the dead, without thinking he had given up all reason.
6. Through prayer, invite Jesus into your life to become your personal Savior. This step can be both very comforting and have a practical value as well. By accepting this condition, we have someone always at our side—a loving, trusted advisor, as well as a constant means of communicating with him.
But beyond that, we have someone to be responsible to, which can be a mighty source of strength as we work to commit to the promises we have made—to stop our sinning ways, to be ready and willing to make whatever sacrifices might be asked of us.
So… where does this leave us?
1. There is reason to believe there is more to Jesus’ teachings than is contained in the Bible.
2. Faith alone may not be the only route to spiritual enlightenment (salvation). The rational mind positively expressing its innate curiosity may also bring a person to that point. In point of fact, if we would but allow it, they could blend together quite nicely.
The Parable of the Growing Seed says:
This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil produces grain—first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head. As soon as the grain is ripe, he puts the sickle to it, because the harvest has come. (Mark 4:26-29)
Like the seed coming to full kernel, I believe the gospel message is a live, growing entity, nurtured within our hearts (faith) and mind (reason). As the mind grows with knowledge through our curiosity, we can see the wisdom of the message.
At its core, this is a message of wiping the slate clean, starting over, second chances. Who among us wouldn’t want that? And this is perhaps Jesus’ greatest gift to us.
Social science tells us that self-interest can work to our advantage in a positive way, both socially and economically—if we combine it with also acknowledging the self-interest of others. Put in religious terms, we don’t have to sin to get what we want—we can cooperate. And, over time, our cooperation has been growing. Our troubled times—and others—notwithstanding.
There is a great deal of positive energy in this process. Both between people, and between humanity and the divine.
Other knowledge from the hard sciences is on the horizon. Scientists continue to pursue the nature of energy itself. We are already at the point where we have television sets that operate without the use of electrical wires, and it is foretold that soon many of our appliances will function in this manner. If inanimate objects can transmit energy invisibly, why can’t people? And why couldn’t we use this energy to connect with the divine?
And in case you’re wondering, here’s my definition of the divine: That force which propels all which is holy and good in us, connecting us to all peoples in an ever-encompassing circle, that ties us to the ground with the acceptance of our responsibilities, and lifts us to the heavens with our love.
The subject of multiple universes continues to fascinate. Unbelievable as it sounds, reputable physicists are telling us they are there. At present, those of faith believe in such a possibility and call it Heaven, while those of reason speculate—and those blessed with both do both.
In the meantime, we are all here on this earth—in this universe—and it is my fervent hope—and prayer—that each of us will have the faith and/or reason to grasp the wisdom of the one commitment this man on a divine mission himself stressed: Stop sinning.
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