God vs. Science

I have been on a science and physics kick lately, watching the entire rebooted Cosmos series and reading “The Big Picture” by Sean Carroll. I recommend both works as they are well-presented and challenging. They are both, decidedly, dismissive of theism. In some ways, I believe this is why it is important to expose myself to them. If I coddle my own faith by refusing to consider persuasive contrary evidence, it becomes a static heirloom rather than a living journey.  

Science has and continues to play an integral role in explaining the mechanism of our reality, but it becomes overextended when it attempts to make sense of why there is a reality at all (or why that reality found itself inhabited by beings capable of contemplating it). Please do not misunderstand me, I am not a young-Earth creationist and my belief in God is not predicated upon the acceptance of a 6,000 year-old planet. I do not believe that Darwin was the anti-Christ or that he proposed a framework incompatible with the idea of an omnipotent Creator. If my child becomes ill, I pray and take them to the pediatrician because I can find no compelling evidence that those are mutually-exclusive courses of action.

I have never understood the hostility between religion and science. For centuries, scientists and those who dared to challenge their society’s prevailing views concerning our physical world have been persecuted by religious authorities. When scientists had the audacity to claim we did not inhabit the center of the universe, we interpreted truth as apostasy. When dinosaur bones were discovered, many dismissed the idea as fraudulent since they were not mentioned in scripture and were not identified as passengers on Noah’s Ark. As science has methodically uncovered humanity’s role in affecting the way our planet operates, we reflexively push back against any suggestion that we have control over the creation we attribute to our God.

The frightening truth is that these reactions tell us far more about the strength of our faith than the influence of science. Does our God’s reputation suffer when a universe we attribute to Him is constantly being revealed as more complex than we dared imagine? Should I be troubled by the implication that complex emotions can be identified through the interactions of millions of intricately-woven neurons and synapses? Should I be ashamed that I would rather err on the side of caution than treat God’s creation with apathy?

Meanwhile, many scientists have dismissed faith in God as a philosophical crutch required to steady the weak-minded and the uneducated.     

At this point in history, the brightest minds in cosmology believe that there was a Big Bang and that in that exact moment there were equal amounts of matter and anti-matter. Despite this, matter – and over eons – consciousness prevailed to become what it is today. Logically-speaking, that shouldn’t have happened. What long-term survival value does conscience bring to the table for humanity? Why would a random collection of molecular material reacting to the forces outlined by scientific inquiry develop the ability to grieve, hate, and love? Why was their ever a single-celled organism to evolve from? Why do we allow ourselves to become so enamored with the architecture that we miss the architect?

This is commonly known as the fine-tuning theory. The idea is that there are so many variables that must interact in such a specific way in such a narrow window of time to produce life, that the most logical explanation is that there must be a greater intelligence behind it. In other words, complete happenstance is harder to prove than the existence of God.

If you hear an orchestra playing a symphony, you would logically assume the resulting sound is the product of skilled musicians reading from the same piece of music under the direction of a conductor. Is this the only possibility? No. It is also possible that an unrelated group of novices stumbled upon the same room full of instruments at the same time and all began independently emitting random noises which sound like Beethoven’s Fifth. But we can all agree that is far less likely.

At present, the scientific rebuttal for this line of thinking is the multiverse theory. It states that there are endless realities all occurring simultaneously and we just happen to inhabit the reality where the novices got lucky. After all, there are trillions of other realities where the non-musicians sound as discordant and awful as we would expect them to. Of course, we are no more likely to prove this than we are the divinity of Christ. Even more maddening is the possibility that the fundamental laws of physics we observe here might only exist here on not translate to an alternate reality.

Religion owes science a debt of gratitude. It was science that dared to suggest birth-defects and infertility could be genetic phenomenon rather than punishment by God. It is science that reminded us that tornadoes and hurricanes are the result of meteorological conditions rather than supernatural judgments. It is science that differentiated depression and bi-polar disorder from demonic possession. Science whispers in our ears each time we open a pediatric cancer research center instead of attributing the diagnosis to “God’s will” and giving up.

I believe the world we inhabit was designed and created by an architect. I believe that same architect is the reason humans and consciousness exist as they do today. I believe that architect cares about what happens to us and the creation we inhabit. I believe that the clearest view of that architect’s hopes and intentions for His creation can be seen through the words and actions of His son, Jesus Christ.         

I also believe that the clearest way to understand and appreciate the world of that architect is through the lens of science. I believe that God rejoices each time someone receives a life-saving vaccine or a smoke alarm prods a family to safety. I believe that His will is done when an amputee receives a bionic limb or contaminates are removed from a community’s drinking water. There are always going to be some points of contention between these worlds and I understand the difficulties in reconciling sacred texts with observed reality, but I believe there is far less dividing us than we think.

An Ode to Toys R Us

My Dearest Toys R Us,

I want to personally thank you for inundating my children’s existence with television ads and Christmas toy catalogs featuring Toys R Us “exclusive” items that you lack either the will or infrastructure to actually make available to them. Case in point:

My three-year old son is a fan of the Disney Jr. series PJ Masks. Yes, I realize that the premise of three Kindergarteners utilizing the power of evening-wear to fight crime is absurd, but the heart wants what the heart wants. I digress. So between the multiple copies of the catalog we received at our home and the holiday activities he performed at school, he compiled a very important list that he showed Santa.

One of the items that made the Santa short list was the PJ Mask Headquarters Playset (Item #579374). Given that there were several big ticket items on Santa’s shortlist, St. Nick made an executive decision to provide The Lion Guard Training Lair Playset (Item #432302) instead. While this proved to be well-received, Chris Cringle had apparently not picked up on the subtle indications that the PJ Masks Headquarters was at the top of his holiday hierarchy. He expressed some disappointment on Christmas morning, but the whims of a three-year old are fickle.

Just as we had finished reinforcing the ideas of choosing to focus on all of the gifts we received rather than the select few that were omitted, there was an unexpected reprieve. His great-grandparents had sent a card with a generous amount of cash for him to spend. Immediately he latched onto the idea of taking this money and purchasing the PJ Mask Headquarters Playset (Item #579374) he had been pining for.

The next day we drove to our local Toys R Us, rushed to the PJ Masks section, and were disappointed to discover that the item was not in stock. Believing that there is no way that a pre-schooler would walk out of a toy store with money in their pocket, I asked him to look and see if there was anything else that he wanted. He browsed in earnest but finally came back to me and declared that he would rather wait for us to order it than get anything else.

“Don’t worry,” I consoled my son; this is a multinational corporation and I am sure we can have it shipped to the house in no time. So I opened the website on my phone, went to the item and selected Checkout. When I enter my zip code, I was told that they cannot send it to my home. Undeterred, I restarted the process and tried to select the “Ship-to-Store” option. This was also unavailable.

Somewhat miffed, I walked up to the customer service desk and spoke to an employee. I was informed that not only was the item not available to ship to my home or store, but that it could not even be shipped to a store within 100 miles of my location. They added that they were not sure if they would ever get the item back in.

When we got home, I opened the chat window on the Toys R Us website and explained my dilemma. I was told that what I experienced was a glitch and that I simply needed to call the customer service line and have an attendant place the order for me.  

After calling the provided number, I was connected with a female associate to whom I explained the chain of events that had led me up to that moment. Having been provided the part number, she took several minutes before informing me that the chat windows associate had been incorrect and that I could not get the item. Our conversation continued:

Me: So I cannot send it to my house and you will not send it to a store within four hours of my current location?

Her: As you can see on the website that item is not available for “Ship to Home” so you will need to select the “Ship to Store” option and chose a Toys R Us location that the item can be shipped to.

Me: The only store in my state that I can ship to is 5 hours away and already has it in stock so why would I want to ship it to store that already has it?

Her: I realize that it might be inconvenient….

Me: Across town is inconvenient, an 800-mile round-trip qualifies as a quest.

Her: Perhaps if you had a friend or relative in that town who could go to Toys R Us, buy the item for you, and pay to have it shipped to your home…

Me: Am I to understand that the official recommendation of Toys R Us customer service is for me to call up my second cousin and ask him to do me a solid by fronting me the $85 to purchase and ship one of your products?

Her: It was just a suggestion..

Me: Let’s start again. Let’s say that I want to hand your company $75 in exchange for an item that they sell. How do I go about doing that?

Her: Again, if you have a friend or relative…

Me: What about a transfer from another store?

Her: We can’t do that.

Me: Can you request one be sent to my store on the weekly shipment?

Her: Sir, I know it may seem odd, but as someone who has worked retail I can tell you that there is no way for us to control or predict what gets shipped to what store.

It was at this moment I began to suspect the inventory control system for Toys R Us was akin to the sorting hat in Harry Potter. I had a mental image of a dozens of warehouse workers standing around a forklift while a magical artifact declared “The Paw Patrol Action Figure Set will be awarded to……. Store 5876 in Bridgeport, West Virginia!!!!”

I made several other feeble attempts to procure the playset and aside from phone-a-relative the only other option I was given was to call the local store back and have them “leave a note” to call me if the enchanted delivery truck saw fit to bestow one upon my city.

Finally accepting defeat, I was able to locate one on Amazon at $30 above retail – probably sold by someone who lived in one of the zip codes favored by the sorting hat – but it was still cheaper than an overnight trip. So I swallowed my pride and ordered the item. I told my son that in two days he would be the proud owner of a PJ Masks Headquarters Playset (Item #579374).

So after two days, imagine my mild chagrin when I was informed that there was a delay in the shipping of my “Two-Day Prime Item” and instead of 2 days it would be two weeks. I cancelled that order, found another one at the same price, and it should be here tomorrow.

While writing this, just for funsies, I got on Toys R Us’s website and when I put in my zip code they offered to send it to my home and cover shipping costs. I am toying with the idea of ordering it from them, defecating in the box, and returning it for a refund……..

Toddlers and Bell Ringing

Last weekend, my wife had the idea for us to “ring the bell” for our local Salvation Army chapter. We also thought it would be a tangible way to teach our three year-old son about the meaning of Christmas. It was only a one-hour shift, so we felt certain that the allure of holiday service and charitable giving would keep his attention for sixty consecutive minutes. We were wrong.

We began by explaining to him that the objective was to solicit money for the red bucket by ringing the bell as people entered and exited the store. Situated between the two automatic sliding doors, there was very little space to maneuver. We had two bells between the three of us so naturally we gave one to him. His first strategy was to ring the bell at people in an accusatory manner while shouting “give money!”

Once we explained to him that we might need to scale back the armed robbery vibe, he warmed up to the idea of constantly ringing a bell while “holding” the automatic sliding door for people. He was so adorable that customers started handing him their donations to place into the bucket. While this was well-intentioned, it broke one of the cardinal rules of Salvation Army bell-ringing: never touch the product.

This parameter is important because it prevents any charges of financial impropriety by the bell ringers. It also prevents a situation where a preschooler is handed a wad of paper currency and takes it to be a gratuity for his service. The following scenario repeated several times:

1.  Customer hands child money, waits expectantly for adorable reminder of Christmas spirit

2.  Child frowns at crumpled bills in his hand and meticulously counts them while making no indication that he plans to do anything with the bills other than keep them.

3.  Parent plasters grin on their face while reminding child through clenched teeth that they need to put the money in the bucket “like we talked about”

4.  Child voices strong displeasure at parent’s suggestion, recounts money, mentions Toys R Us

5.  Customer’s grin fades slightly

6.  Parent stops ringing their bell and reaches for child’s hand to “assist” them in depositing the money.

7.  Child recoils / parent’s voice takes on a more threatening tone / customer is now visibly uncomfortable.

8.  Parent wrestles money away from child, deposits money, and thanks the customer over child’s loud protestations.

9.  Just as child calms down, someone else hands child a donation    

It was after this happened several times that I offered to place my son on my shoulders. This, I reasoned, would place him out of reach of most patrons and prevent a meltdown. The downside to this idea was that I was struck in the head several times by a metal bell and suffered some temporary hearing loss on my right side. Soon enough, the novelty of riding on shoulders wore off and he wanted to be posted at ground level again.

A few instances of bell-throwing and one unauthorized use of the store’s complimentary wheelchair later, our shift had ended. Perhaps we made a difference. I probably should have checked his pockets……

Toddler Mondays

My son has an intense dislike of round breakfast cereal. He will not eat it, and finds the thought of even touching it to be repulsive. Once when we asked him to clean up some plain Cheerios that he had knocked out of his sister’s hand, he retrieved a napkin so that his hands wouldn’t touch them as he picked them up and deposited them in the garbage. This is important because it provides the foundational irony for the following story.

It was a typical Monday morning. My wife was in the bathroom getting ready for work and the kids were eating breakfast while I was making sure everything was in my work bag. Suddenly, our rather large dog walked into the living room and proceeded to deposit the contents of her stomach on our carpet. My verbal reaction was loud and immediate, which drew a “What’s wrong?” from my wife in the bathroom. As I turned to address her question, my son declared that he wanted to “see dog throw-up first” and in his haste to dismount the bar-stool chair feel onto the handle of his sister’s ridding toy sustaining a rather painful injury to his rib-cage.

This turn of events caused me to stop my explanation mid-sentence and rush to my son’s aid who was sobbing on the floor. At this moment, my daughter decided to take advantage of her brother’s unforced error and broke out in a run for the puddle of half-digested dogfood. As she was the only member of the family who was fully dressed for her day, I could foresee her slipping in the mess thereby necessitating a wardrobe change. While still cradling my weeping son, I began loudly instructing her to “stop right there and don’t touch anything!”

My wife - having determined that whatever situation was occurring in the living room had escalated exponentially – ran out of the bathroom toward the exact same spot. I then switched from talking down my daughter to warning my wife not to come through the bedroom door (as the digestive incident had occurred between the two rooms). Suddenly my son’s despondency began increasing and I feared that either I was squeezing him too hard or his injuries were far worse than I initially thought.

I was finally able to make out enough of his words to realize that he was no longer upset about his fall. Instead, he had become inconsolable over the fact that everyone else had gotten to see the dog vomit before he had. To be fair, this was his second bodily-function disappointment of the week as he had been out of town with my wife when his sister pooped in the tub. He requested that I Facetime the aftermath and was rather crestfallen to learn that I had already removed the offending turds.

After some time, I was able to ease the pain of missing the premier and he calmed down on the promise that he could see the dog vomit next time. Meanwhile, our dog had begun her own recovery procedure leaving behind a large discolored spot in the carpet. I retrieved the carpet shampoo device from the garage and began the process of extracting what was left. As a consolation prize, my son requested to see the contents of the machine’s “recovery tank” before I emptied it. It was only then that he found himself able to finish his breakfast.

Thankfully the dog hadn’t consumed any Cheerios or else someone’s meal might have been ruined.