Evolution and Intelligent Design

Okay, I am editing this blog since my girlfriend said that it was a little rambling and illogical...what I get for falling asleep in the middle of writing it. I need more sleep!

This is the key to a tale: never let the facts get in the way of a good story. The so-called 'debate' between intelligent design and Darwinists is a good story, but it is not science, and it never will be. It is clear beyond the most implausible shred of a doubt that evolution occurs and is the best scientific explanation for how humans and the rest of modern life came to be. Facts are what science uncovers, and the story the facts tell is an evolutionary story.

But let's put all the false claims of the intelligent designers aside, and look at it from another angle. Could God have created the biological world through evolution? Well, it's possible: there are many people who believe in evolution who also believe in God. Evolution and a created world, seemingly disparate beliefs, can be welded together into one story.

Here's a metaphor I've heard: God is the smith, making the world out of iron. The hammer is evolution. So, if that's true, additional questions arise.

Why would God create the world in this roundabout way? What kind and loving God would favor billions of years of 'survival of the fittest' and send meteors to Earth to slaughter millions of innocent dinosaurs? What kind and loving God would use evolution to craft parasites whose sole job in life is to grow inside caterpillars and eat them from the inside out, while their hosts are still ALIVE and in PAIN? Isn't the nature of the universe supposed to reflect the nature of its Creator?

These are some of the very questions that Darwin, the former clergyman-in-training, posed when he was wrestling with the moral implications of his theory. The caterpillar parasite made Darwin lose his faith in a loving God or purpose in the natural Universe. For Darwin, no loving God could create a universe where random chance allowed such horrors as the caterpillar parasite to arise and flourish.

It is important to remember that this was simply Darwin's opinion on the subject: you can agree with his science while disagreeing with his embittered, emotional take on the philosophy behind the science. Darwin's faith was sorely tested: he lost a daughter to fever and got attacked by every clergyman in England for a fine scientific idea.

I personally think Darwin was wrong. God did not simply allow the caterpillar parasite to randomly come to exist: he used evolution to design it. God is responsible for all the suffering of organisms down through history, all the slaughter of innocent animals and people in natural disasters. And yet, he is still a kind and loving God who has done all of this for the best. How can God be kind and loving while still creating a Universe that is full of pain? That's the question of Job: every Christian has a different answer for that question. I have my own, but that lies beyond the scope of this blog. The real question is: How can God create anything through evolution?

The science of evolution tells us that mutation is random, and therefore evolution as a whole is a purposeless, essentially random process. Organisms adapt only in response to selection from nature, not in response to their own desires or the prompting of a mysterious religious force. So how can I, a scientist by training, tell you that I think that God designed the world for his own purposes using evolution, a random process?

Random is something that we can measure, but it is a false idea, a mathematical construct that helps us model the universe, but does not teach us about its deeper nature. To be random is to be without cause, but we know that all things in this world are caused by prior events. Even though the motion of atoms in a gas cloud (and the path one atom follows) appears to be a random process, it is not. It is a chaotic process in which the current position and velocity of any one atom has been caused by interactions with other atoms in the past. Everything in the universe is a chaotic process on some scale: it is caused by past events, but its future path cannot be predicted.

So when God created the universe, I think it likely that He set certain events, like the course of evolution of life on Earth, into motion just by moving a few molecules in the right direction to create a 99.9% chance. What followed from there, the story of evolution, appears from our perspective to be completely random. What is always unpredictable and unknowable to us, the chaos of the Universe, is laid out completely in the mind of God. God knows all possibilities, foresees all eventualities, and is intimately following the fall of every sparrow in the ever-changing Universe that is revealed by the present.

As humans with free will, God has given us complex brains with more neuron connections than all of the grains of sand in the ocean. He foresees the possibilities of our behavior, but he does not make our choices for us. Indeed, we are free actors who alter the possibilities of His Creation with every step we take. In a chaotic universe, where small actions can have big consequences, not stepping on a butterfly in Brazil can make someone smile in Ethiopia, or lead to the rise of giant insects. We live in a world carefully designed by the actions of God and humankind, but to us it appears effectively random.

So I think there is really no conflict between the belief in a universe that is purposeful and grounded in moral law (in other words, religion) and the belief that the universe evolved through effectively random events (the science of evolution). You can believe that God designed the Universe through what appear to be random events without falling back on believing in a 6000-year old cosmos (creationism) or constant direct interference by God in natural events (intelligent design).

So why do religious people have a hard time with evolution? Religious people espouse a purposeful universe, and they have a hard time accepting a scientific theory that is essentially a purposeless, atheistic mechanism for the origins of life. They have clung to silly, obviously incorrect beliefs in creationism and intelligent design because they believe those stories are the only ones that give the Universe purpose. A good story is better than the facts, right?

The creationist point of view poises an interesting conundrum. There are two TRUE Creations of God, the sole testaments to his Majesty: the Universe and the Bible. If you take the Bible literally, then evolution over billions of years must not have occurred. However, if you take God's Creation literally (and by extension, God), evidence for evolution is everywhere. Now, either God is trying to trick us by leaving all of this false evidence around, or the Bible cannot be taken literally. We know that God would not lie to us. So who is incorrect, God or the Bible?

Me, I am betting on the Bible. It's all about the metaphors.

My burger is bought!

Thank you, World Wide Web (especially my mother and girlfriend) for your impressive number of clicks on my Google ads. I happy to say that this blog has bought me a burger.

A hamburger in DC will run you at most nine dollars, so actually the blog has done even better--$14.36, the equivalent of a burger, shake, and curly fries, with tip! This money has been a welcome addition to my budget.

Of course, this being DC, that means y'all bought me a night out with a friend at Moby Dick House of Kabob. That's right--Moby Dick kabobs. No, I have no clue where they got the name from, but the place is seriously good, cheap eating. Mmm...nothing like shortening your lifespan with extremely tasty, fattening food. You really can't beat that feeling.

My last story on this blog is the first part of a story I am working on, so stay tuned. Meanwhile, what's going on in my life? Well, three main things:

1) I am walking again after spraining my ankle last month. I was on crutches and my butt for most of a month, but I finally went for a hike in the Shenandoah mountains yesterday. White Oak Canyon is very nice.

2) I am addicted to Netflix, more specifically Battlestar Galactica and Veronica Mars on DVD. If you haven't seen it, Veronica Mars is a smart, witty detective show set in a high school in California, and worth watching. I am close to solving one of the mysteries. Upon hearing of my new obsessions, my friend asked me, "So, what new shows do you like that don't have cute blondes in them?" I told her that was beside the plot, and I really prefer brunettes.

3) In addition to the small roaches which bedevil my apartment and force me to be a clean freak, I spotted a silverfish the other day. Only one small one (who is now deceased), but I am hoping that more will come and do battle with the roaches. Maybe, with any luck, the two rival tribes will kill each other off.

And that's about it for a regular blog this week. Please keep hitting those ads! I would like to buy a real burger one of these days...

Story: The beginning of a story

The boy ran his bare feet through the sand. His house lay five miles behind him, and the sun was rising hot. The dunes were finally running down to the sea.

There was a boat waiting on the shore. He knew that there would be a boat: he didn’t know how he knew. He grabbed the stern, pulled the skiff out to sea, and sat down by the rudder. The wind was strong. The sails billowed and caught on silent hands. The skiff surged forward, and soon he was far out to ocean, running fast on a broad reach.

The boat danced a tango over green-grey water. The rudder held his hand: it knew the way. The boy did not. Soon he could not see the shore. All that lay about him was ocean, sparkling and warm in the rising day.

The rock came on to the horizon like a clenched fist. Dark and steady, it grew as the dawn wore into morning, and as the sun moved to the top of the sky. Cliffs loomed at the base of the fist, and the ocean boomed in them: WAH-BLAH-SHLUM! WAH-BLAH-shlum!

Looking up, the boy noticed the tower. It rose tall and thin, up and up from the top of the cliff.

As the sun started down from zenith, the boy came to the base of the cliffs, and the skiff steered him to a hollow where a stone dock and an iron gate awaited. Beyond the gate lay the darkness of a stairway, upward. The boy stepped on to the dock, faced the gate, and whispered, “I am here.” It seemed the right thing to say.

The gate swung open. The boy started up the stairs. They led to a long hallway, lined with torches flickering in yellow and blue. That hallway led to another hallway, and another and another. Sometimes the torches were green; other times they were yellow, silver, or purple. He walked through each of the long halls to the shadowy center of the castle, a room lit by a single white lantern. At the center of the dusky room, a curving staircase rose out of sight.

He climbed the staircase. And climbed. And climbed. His legs burned, and he rested breathless. He climbed again. Hours later on his dark journey up the twisting, narrowing flights, the boy came out to an open circular terrace. The wind blew warmly through his hair: the sun was low in the sky.

Walking to the edge of the terrace, the boy gazed out on the seas all around. Minutes passed. Sails appeared, one by one, on all horizons. The sun began to set: the ring of ships closed around the tower.

The master of the tower emerged from the stairs below, robed and hooded. Silent as a hawk on his prey, the master of the tower glided to stand behind the boy. Without turning, the white-haired boy bowed his head and said, “It is time.”

The master replied, “It is time.” He placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

The boy sighed, and straightened. Nodding, he said, “May the truth set me free.”

Putting on your Street Face

Yes folks, it is not Latin America, or Texas. There is little laughter in the streets, or smiling at strangers. It is full of young, smart people out to make a buck or an impression on the world. John Kennedy once said, "Washington is a city of Southern efficiency and Northern charm." How wonderfully apt.

But for all the omnipresent stuffiness and worldly manners, there is another side to DC. It is a city of transplants, and it seems everyone has a story and a softer side hidden behind their Metro facade. They are interesting people. They are civilized and generally courteous. People offer to let other people go first, or have their seat. And there is a variety and spiciness to life here. Tonight I was serenaded home by three nine-year old boys and a drunk guy on the subway. People were talking to and smiling at the kids (smiling is allowed sometimes). It almost (almost!) felt like home.

If only everyone in DC were children. They would do a better job of running the world.

Poem: Pieces Whole Again

It is the smell of forgiveness.

Love in the age of land mines

And a little child shall lead them

The smell of spring rises into you

A taut rope of possibility

Held up by forgotten hopes:

A lost leg, a lost eye, a toy broken

A laugh flying like a swallow at dusk

A scar and a spirit that refuse to fade.

When the tear begins to fall,

When you step into the age,

When you know love again,

We will begin the fight for your life.

Just another day in the trenches

What profession in the world exists, do you think, where if someone asks you what you do for a living, and you tell them, that their most common reply is, "Wow. So how do you like the money?"

Pardon me? Isn't asking strangers about their salary considered....crass? rude? demeaning? Investment bankers will look embarrassed, lawyers will look smug, and janitors will look dejected. It's personal, isn't it?

Well, not if you are a teacher. People ask me that all of the time. Yep. It's just great. Variations include, "So how do you live on that teacher's salary? (soulful look)", and "I thought about doing that, BUT it just didn''t pay enough. You are so noble. (dramatic sigh)"

After a number of times where I spent the next couple hours feeling like a failure and wondering how I was ever going to afford anything in life, I realized something. I was okay with being middle-class. I was okay with having three months of vacation a year. I was okay with working in an county with one of the highest teacher's salaries in the nation (although the DC metro area ain't cheap). In fact, I was pretty much happy with my financial status for now. So why wasn't everyone else happy with it too?

You know what I think it is? Guilt. Americans feel guilty about paying me and my compatriots piddly-squat to watch over and educate their children. They feel awful about stiffing those who care for the future of their loved ones. And you know what? They should.

That's right, America. Wallow in your guilt. Guilt, guilt, guilt. Me, I am going to not go out on the town much (I can't afford it) and save every penny this website gives me. In a few weeks, hopefully, you guilty Americans out there will have clicked on my ads enough to buy me a burger. Right? Right.

I am glad we had this talk.

My students

Alright, I'll admit it: I don't know what to blog about in my new city. All I do is work as a teacher in Washington, D.C., and explore the city periodically, and try to get out periodically so I don't get ill with city-itis. I used to spend all day outdoors messing with bird poop and grading roads with tractors. Now I stay indoors and teach kids about nature.

I am teaching biology at a school inside the Beltway, but that's all I can really say about that since I am sure my kids are pretty internet-savy. I have this sneaking suspicion, sort of how an escaped prisoner must feel about the police, that those kids are going to find me on the Web, one day. I mean, there you are, sitting in a nice lounge chair on the beach in Mexico, drinking coke and rum through a straw, taking in the waves and the women, when there comes the one thing you have been waiting for for seventeen years--the tap on the shoulder, and a man in a bad suit calling you by your real name. It's time to pay for the crimes you've done.

That's how I would feel if one of my kids found my blog and figured out who I was. All they would have to do in class is call me Mr. Tramptexan, and my blogging equilibrium would be shattered.

That's not to say I am not going to post here about my kids. I mean, 15-year olds are a lot more entertaining than bird poop and tractors any day of the week. I think I will just work up to it.

In the meantime, I have done some serious thinking. The universe is sometimes a just one, and this article demonstrates this inescapable fact.

One last thing...if you are having a bad day, visit the U.S. Botanical Garden and sit and watch the fountain after work. Make sure you visit the orchid room as well.

The Tramp lands in DC

DC is an interesting city. All of the buildings are shorter than the Capitol, and the only safe neighborhoods are to the Northwest of the Capitol, which is half of the city (hint: the Capitol is not in the middle of the city). There's lots to do for free, which is good since going out for food is really expensive ($9-10 for a burger). There are lots of trees and biking paths in the city and that keeps me sane. All the rich people live in the Northwest or outside the district in Maryland or Virginia--which, since the district is so small, is like living in the nearer suburbs of a regular city.

The only other truly interesting things I have discovered are:

1. DC and Northern Virginia have the worst road signage in the world. Imagine that you are trying to find a way to Baltimore. You see a sign for I-495, and you follow it. Twenty minutes later, no Beltway. Thirty minutes later, no Beltway. After 45 minutes, if traffic is light through the infinity of stop-lights you sat through, you are there. Want to know which way to go to get to Baltimore? Good luck seeing that sign.

2. Greater DC has one of the worst road layouts in the world. I got lost at least six times a day for the first month (yes, I started counting). And don't even get me started about the evil traffic circles.

3. Waterfront--Where there aren't parks, they built parking lots and ugly 70s-slum buildings on it. Whatever happened to restaurants and Docks districts? I guess all of those parks were cutting into parking.

4. Traffic Law enforcement. Hah! There are so many traffic rules in the district that even the cops ignore them. Here's all you need to know: Don't speed, don't get in a HOV lane without the HO, and don't park where you ain't supposed to be. Illegal left turns, U-turns, and erratic driving is expected.

5. Northeast, Southwest, and Southeast. If you are rich, you don't go to these areas. The City forgot they existed during the race riots of the 60's, and the roads feel like they haven't been repaired since then, even the freeways! Crossing the Anacostia River is a no-no, especially after dark. The city has been criminally mismanaged, to allow slums like that to persist and fall into ruin over 30 years. Some of the most dangerous neighborhoods in America have the Capitol building hanging over them, white and luminous in the night.

Which tells you another thing: You don't have to go far afield to see any of the problems in the country. D.C. is a microcosm of every part of the U.S.A., our problems and joys. It may be grimy in parts, chaotic, and infected with the narcissistic mass hysteria of government, but it is a grand, beautiful, and lively place to live. It is America's city.

Poem: In the Temple there is a man praying

Swimming in the ocean of sky like a playful whale.

Diving off a hot summer deck into the world like an eel, an otter, a smile from the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.

To whirl and know that in all directions there lies nothing but nothing, nothing but everything. A plain of grass like a hand holding the sky

peace lying on earth, a lover caressing in breezes.

Let our hearts GO FREE! This endless world is jaded.

Evil men rule, but their daughters love them. We will too.

Our spirits shall rise into their oppression

and push joy into the cracks of their hard façade,

like smoke rising through the roof of a burning house.

What can we say that you will believe us? Sneak

the twin children, justice and joy, over the walls of your heart..

Into that hollow place where mercy dwells unrequited

We all must go,

Diving. Slamming hard into reality’s stunning waves.