SERMON: “Witnessing for Darwin” by the not-so-reverend bob

I wondered whether it would be prudent to keep my little brass “bob bless” pin on the lapel of my sport coat as I worked my way through security at the airport.  Would that quarter-inch of pin welded on the back be seen as a potentially deadly weapon?  Apparently, I need not have been concerned (though two screeners did get a chuckle after close inspection of my solid-bronze Dimetrodon skull belt buckle).

As the jet powered up and began rolling down the runway, I was like a kid again, thinking “Whee!  I’m on a jet!”.  The pilot in me noted how long it took for the jet to rotate up into the air, and felt the dramatic clunk of the wheels coming up.  I watched the ground drop further and further below me, until I could see the random “pattern” of the distinctive clumps of mesquite bushes on the desert floor.  I wondered if someone else would look for a pattern of divine design in the obvious spacing between the plants.  What I assumed I was observing were the natural limits on proximity dictated by the features of those particular plants in that particular environment.  I made a mental note to read up on how desert plant spacing is determined.

When cloud cover obscured the ground, I returned to reading an essay on early human evolution.  And as I read about the evidence for when our hominid ancestors first began using tools (about 6 million years ago), I couldn’t help but see myself at the leading end of that ancient process that, at a certain point, really began to speed up (in this case, up to about 600 miles per hour!).

My "bob bless" pin.

It’s difficult to imagine that we were once not much better at using tools than modern chimpanzees are today (they use rocks to crack nuts, stripped twigs and spit to draw termites out of logs).  But that’s how we were.  For us humans, however, the use of tools turned out to be the beginning of a major shift in our evolutionary direction.  For at this point in our history, we began our dependence on technology that continues to this day.  The morphological implications were huge — for our reliance on tools seems to have had a great deal to do with our bipedalism.  And one thing led to another until we no longer needed the natural defense systems of apes (for instance, we lost our protruding canines as we relied more and more on defensive weapons of our own design, and as the need for massive chewing muscles went out with our increased consumption of meat and the added calories available from cooked food, our brain cases could increase in size).

Over millions of years we continued to evolve as tool-using primates until there came a point (some 300,000 years ago) when we hominids were all cooking our food over fires and hafting flaked stone points to wooden spears.  This is the point in history where our brains stopped increasing in size (having likely reached the limit of size that would still allow human mothers to deliver their big-brained babies)  and we were likely talking to each other in some form of language.  After this point, our technological and social progress took a series of dramatic turns that led to our more recent “Neolithic revolution” and then the modern industrial/technical age we now find ourselves in.

I stood in the aisle of the jet as we flew on into the night, heading further east, and pondered the physics that allowed me to be standing with relative ease on an assemblage of human-designed and manufactured parts, all of which (along with dozens of my fellow humans) were rocketing along some 30,000 feet above the earth.  I looked at my fellow hominids, and noted how all were focused on some task or conversation or asleep.  And I couldn’t help but think how we take all of our progress for granted, as if we have always been so insulated from the challenges of life in a natural world.

Back in Dallas, the greeter at the cafe I ate in had asked me about my “bob bless” lapel pin.  I told him about the church of bob, and he said he wasn’t very religious himself, but his girlfriend had a job at a Christian camp, and that if she were to reveal to them that she accepted anything Darwinian, she’d lose her job.  “And she really likes her job” he said.  “But how can they ignore it [the science]?”, he asked.  I gave him some encouraging words about science, and the name of the church of bob’s website, and felt like any other evangelist on the road.

Despite the similar sensations of that exchange, however, science is not — as I’ve said before — religion.  I may be an atheist, but science is not atheistic.  The religious say science is atheistic only because science will not support their system of non-evidential beliefs.  Science is attacked not because science attacks God (it is, in fact, neutral), but because it does not actively support Him.  There is a huge difference.

Creationists use examples such as a jet liner to show how such a machine infers a designer.  This is correct, of course.  But to take that idea of “design inference” and apply it to nature is another thing altogether, and it simply does not work.  All attempts to prove this sort of “intelligent design” are pure pseudo-science, and absolutely no different than astrology, reading tea leaves or alchemy.  Creationism is always an argument from ignorance, in that it takes refuge in the notion that because a phenomenon is not yet scientifically explained, it must, therefore, be divine in origin.  The key word in that sentence is “not yet scientifically explained”.

There may well be things that we will never be able to explain through science.  However, it is wise to note the many times in our recent history when it was proclaimed that we were at the end of what the sciences could reveal.  Each time, science has found a way.  (And, I would note, each time that science finds a way, at least one existing religious explanation has fallen into obscurity — hence the antipathy of religion to science as general debunker of false claims).

It’s as hard, perhaps, to accept that I’m flying at 600 miles per hour, 30,000 feet over the ground as that I am evolved up from a fish-like ancestor that couldn’t even dream of having hands that would grasp a stone-tipped spear (much less write on a laptop computer in an airport terminal, as I am right now).  But, then, how could our ancestors have imagined any of this?  I can accept that I am really in a jet because I’m actually flying on one.  In the same way I have to accept that I am an evolved species because I really do exist, and the evidence for my origins is now known to me.

The challenge for us living humans, then — at least when it comes to accepting our natural origins — is not imagining the here and now so much as trying to imagine ourselves back then.

t.n.s.r. bob

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