"In our zeal to project our conceptions of The Ideal Woman onto this enigmatic first-century figure, we’ve strayed a bit from the little we do know." < Back Re-Imagining the Magnificat Tawnie Olson Dec 1, 2023 "In our zeal to project our conceptions of The Ideal Woman onto this enigmatic first-century figure, we’ve strayed a bit from the little we do know." Considering how important she is to Christianity, it is surprising how little information the New Testament provides about the Blessed Virgin Mary. This is despite the fact that, even during Jesus’s lifetime, people held strong opinions about her. According to St. Luke, Christ’s preaching was once interrupted by a follower who shouted: “Blessed is the womb that bore you and the breasts that nursed you!” To which Jesus gave the quelling reply, “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and obey it!” (Luke 11:27,28 NRSV). Over the centuries, Jesus’s suggestion that Christians focus on our relationship with God, rather than speculate about Christ’s earthly family, has been widely ignored. Theologically, artistically, poetically, and musically, we have not been able to resist filling in the enormous gaps in the Gospels’ accounts of Mary with our own ideas about what a woman worthy of bearing the Son of God must have been like. Sometimes, in our zeal to project our conceptions of The Ideal Woman onto this enigmatic first-century figure, we’ve strayed a bit from the little we do know. Sandro Botticelli’s Madonna of the Magnificat, for example, portrays Mary as a stylish blonde Florentine aristocrat, surrounded by refined angel/courtiers as she coolly pens the Magnificat with one hand and dandles the infant Jesus in the other. It is a beautiful painting, far beyond my ability to praise adequately, but somehow, I just can’t imagine the woman it depicts giving birth in a barn. To finish the Re-Imagining the Magnificat, click here . Image: Madonna of the Magnificat, Sandro Botticelli. (Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons ) **This is a republication without modifications from blog.oup. Canadian composer Tawnie Olson is inspired by politics, spirituality, the natural world, and the musicians for whom she composes. She is the winner of the 2018 Barlow Prize, a consortium commission for The Crossing, Seraphic Fire, and the BYU Singers, and the 2021-2023 National Opera Association Dominick Argento Chamber Opera Composition Competition (for Sanctuary and Storm, libretto by Roberta Barker). She is currently working on a new piece for Grammy-nominated Sandbox Percussion, funded by a grant from the Canada Council for the Arts. Return to Yuletide 2023 Share Previous Next Click here. Do you like what you just read? Subscribe today and receive sneak previews of Aletheia Today Magazine articles before they're published. Plus, you'll receive our quick-read, biweekly blog, Thoughts While Shaving. Subscribe Thanks for subscribing! Return to Table of Contents, Winter 2023 Issue Return to Table of Contents, Holiday Issue Return to Table of Contents, Halloween Issue Return to Table of Contents, Fall Issue Return to Table of Contents, Beach Issue Return to Table of Contents, June Issue

< Back The Great River David Cowles “What the Cross is to Christianity…the River is to Process Philosophy.” Texas and Mexico are separated by the Rio Grande, the ‘Great River’, but for folks living in Palestine, the Great River is the Jordan. What’s the Great River on your patch? The Mighty Mississippi, the meandering Missouri, or the Crafty Connecticut? Rivers divide us (on one axis)…and unite us (on another); they are like an optical filter. Turned one way, you see the river as a barrier. Rotate the lens 90° - now you see the river as a conduit. River-watching is like a double slit experiment. Turn the apparatus one way, you’ve got particles; rotate 90°, ‘you’ve got mail’! Or…they are like an osmotic membrane. They allow selected items to cross the barrier and they block others. They can mediate flow to be bi-directional…or one way only. BTW, the ontological entity previously known as ‘you’ is also a membrane, mediating flow between the 30 trillion cells that form your body and the 1 trillion galaxies that constitute your universe. Rivers crisscross the planet, branching, merging, dividing and uniting. For example, the Mississippi River connects North and South but divides East from West. The Connecticut River connects the Quebec border with Long Island Sound but separates the BSO from Tanglewood. What the Cross is to Christianity and the Star of David to Judaism, the River is to Process Philosophy (Heraclitus through Whitehead). It is both a symbol and an example of the membranes that define entities. But it is also an agent of the flow that connects those entities. A river is a Gestalt According to Whitehead, Being itself is the reciprocal process of ‘one becoming many’ and ‘many becoming one’. Rivers do that, all by themselves. Rivers form Gaia’s neural network. They facilitate and regulate the flow of information (goods and services, migratory populations) across continents. We ‘think’ by moving electrons across synapses. Trees ‘think’ by secreting and absorbing molecules. Some bacteria ‘think’ by varying the concentration of iron in their cytoplasm. Is it that much of a stretch to imagine Gaia ‘thinking’ by transporting people and goods, back and forth, from one location to another, along her network of rivers? Wait, Gaia, thinking? Isn’t that preposterous? How can a planet, or a biosphere, think? To paraphrase Walter Mondale (1984), “Where’s the brain?” Answer: Don’t need one, Scarecrow! Let’s take ‘you’ for example. You are made up of about 30 trillion independent living organisms called cells. 3% of these are neurons, cells that form tissue known as ‘the nervous system’. Each of these cells has some sort of ‘cellular self-awareness’ but how does that up-link to you deciding to order pistachio ice cream today instead of your usual strawberry? Whatever is going on with you at the level of organism is presumably opaque to the cells that make up that organism…and vice versa. Do you know what your neuron XK275P is experiencing right now? Have you ever known what any specific neuron is experiencing, ever? Once upon a time, you were a fertilized sex cell. Presumably, you (or something pretending to be you) enjoyed cellular self-awareness. Over a lifetime, that one cell (you) reproduces about 100 trillion virtually identical copies of itself. Which one is you? E pluribus unum? Or all 100 trillion? Collectively? Selectively? Or sequentially? Do you imagine that your individual neurons know pistachio from strawberry. Even if… Would they have any sense of the complex socio-economic terrain that must be navigated for you to get ice cream of any flavor? Almost everything that happens depends for its meaning on a few basic organizing principles (logoi). We are able to ‘read the signs’ because we have assimilated those principles. How would you understand a group of folks lining up at a Baskin Robbins if you had no concept of person, group, infrastructure, commerce, employment, alimentation, or confection? To a bacterium, what we call the World would at most appear as chaotic qualia, possibly (but not certainly) disguising some deeper but seemingly indecipherable pattern(s). I would expect that whatever may or may not be going on at the level of Gaia might appear to us just this way - the way our World must appear to a bacterium. We might not even notice it and, if we did, we wouldn’t be able to find the meaning, if indeed there is any meaning to be found. According to Heraclitus (above), everything flows! Rivers flow: Fluid dynamics. So does land: Plate tectonics. Everything flows relative to everything else. Light, in a vacuum, flows at the speed of ‘c’ while I, on a couch, flow at the speed of ‘0’. (Don’t worry though, I’m just giving light a head start.) But that’s not right either! Turns out, light and I are both travelling at the exact same speed. But light is travelling through space while I’m travelling through time. So what? Well, light gets to be ‘everywhere, all at once, all the time’ while I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go. (Guess I should have gone to some of the many fitness clubs I joined.) My brother’s out jogging right now in fact. He’s determined to catch up to light. And true, because he’s moving a lot faster than me in space, he’s moving a little slower than me in time. He is determined to outlive me. I don’t have the heart to tell him that he’s only gaining nanoseconds. Being is contrast. Flow rates vary (me, my brother, and a photon); spacetime is essentially a flow meter. Everything flows and everything flows at the same rate (‘c’); the diversity of the world is a function of ‘the variable allocation of that flow between space and time’ – the Great River! Keep the conversation going. 1. Click here to comment on this TWS. 2. To subscribe (at no cost) to TWS and ATM, follow this link . 3. We encourage new articles and reprints from freelance writers ; click here to view out Writers’ Specs. Keep the conversation going. Previous Next

< Back The Porta Potty Perspective Annie D. Stutley "Job was, you might say, trapped in a Porta Potty right there in the desert, despairingly dejected and despondent." It began with an innocent craving for a York Peppermint Pattie. It was the end of the Sunday night of Mardi Gras in New Orleans a long, long time ago. The last float had passed, the crowd dispersed, and the party retreated upstairs to an apartment far above the muck below for some post-parade libations. All matters of the day settled, two more days of revelry on the horizon, the atmosphere inside nestled into the sweet smugness of good times rolling along...that is, until one member of the party--a friend--was motivated enough by a sudden craving to excuse herself from the carnival laissez-faire. She announced her intentions of a brief absence and set out across the street to where, in the banged up freezer of an old convenience store, would hopefully lie the frozen, artificially flavored mint delight of her deepest desire: a York Peppermint Pattie. She dodged carnival sludge and scattered, discarded beads in the street, for the street cleaners had not yet made their way to this slice of the avenue. She could hear them in the distance, beyond the arching oaks covered in colorful beads and the muted hollering of pop-up parties that dotted the route. She crossed not one, but two streetcar tracks, dodged more sludge and gooky parade throws until before her, lit up like a beacon of hope, was the blinking K under which she could “get the sensation.” But she suddenly had to “go”--a need to pee that came on as fast as the need for a Peppermint Pattie. How could she get the sensation properly while holding it in? To her right was a line of Porta Potties. It wasn’t ideal conditions, but it was better than rushing through her frozen mint chocolate moment. So she entered the last one in a line of publicly used and abused filth pots, locked the door, and did her business, unaware that pulling into the parking lot was the truck that would transport the pots of stinky gold to wherever they go to be cleaned. She also didn’t hear the sequence of padlocks clicking into place down the row of potties. It wasn’t until her door briefly rattled that she heard anything. Had a truck driven by or a gust of wind blown by? She wiped, zipped up, unlatched and pushed on the door, the peppermint pleasure seconds away. Only the door didn’t open but a tiny crack, and dangling in front of her eye was a padlock, quite definitely locked in place. Holy hell, I’m trapped , she thought. Holy hell, I’m trapped in a Porta Potty! It was the kind of realization usually accustomed to nightmare scenarios that belong in “would you rather” games? Would you rather be trapped in a Porta Potty or trapped in a tiny room with ten tarantulas? Dear God, I don’t know the answer! First, she screamed, “Help! Let me out!” until she was hoarse. No answer. Then she banged on the door until her fists hurt. Still no answer. Then she resigned her mind to the idea that she would either spend the night in a Porta Potty or die by death of toxic funk stench. The first would likely lead to the second. She thought about her brief 22 years on Earth--her parents, her boyfriend, all the dreams she never reached and that her death would probably turn into an urban legend. Until the end of time, at festivals and public gatherings all over the world, those with weak bladders would enter Porta Potties and joke to their friends, “Make sure no one locks me in!” Then she heard the worst sound she’d ever heard in her entire 22 years: the screeching sound of the motor of whatever machine drags a Porta Potty onto a truck. She pushed on the door and twisted her head so she could assess her inevitable doom. The Porta Potties were being connected to a mechanism that first dragged, then tilted them into the truck until they were upright again. Forget Mardi Gras sludge! She’d be covered in shit, swimming in shit, and undoubtedly die from shock of so much shit! Oh, hell no! This is not gonna go this way! So she pounded and yelled and kicked and screamed with all her might until, upon pushing on the door one last time, there on the other side of the padlock was another eye. She jumped back and then pushed on the door again. “What are you doing in there?” The voice of the eye was a weak, wavering voice. “What do you think?” she asked. “You’re not supposed to be in there,” the eye scolded her. “Well, you’re not supposed to lock me in!” she said. “Don’t you check these things before you lock them?” “It’s almost midnight.” The eye wouldn’t be discredited. But neither would she. “So! People still need to pee!" “You really should be more careful,” the eye began. “You should always bring someone with you when you go out like this.” Meanwhile, she was still stuck inside a Porta Potty and the eye was still outside in the land of fresh air. “Um, can you let me out, please?” she begged. The voice from the eye sighed, like maybe our friend's lack of judgment made her deserving of a few extra minutes surrounded by a day's worth of urine and carnival crap. Then, rather reluctantly, the padlock was released, and our peppermint protagonist burst through the door, gasping for air and sucking life into her lungs like she’d just been born. “Thank you,” she exhaled to the eye, which she now observed belonged to the oldest looking human being she’d ever seen. And she realized that it was no wonder he hadn’t heard her. He was 110 years old, probably half deaf, and yet moved with the pace of someone who acted like he had all the time in the world. He was a captor to be forgiven--just doing his job, though pretty badly. She shook his hand. She had been freed from death by human feces. That called for a generous dose of the human spirit. Then as if none of it had ever happened, she waltzed into the Circle K, meandered over to the freezer, and bought the only Peppermint Pattie still on the shelf. Either Peppermint Patties were a popular post-parade fare, or so unpopular were they that the one in her hand was as old as the eye itself. But none of that mattered, and as she sank her teeth into the curious blast of winter that settled onto her taste buds and ventilated her nostrils, a new perspective unleashed in her psyche. Shit happens, and sometimes it happens that we become trapped in it. Smelly, yes. repulsive, of course. But more than gross, it can be infectious--if we are weak to it. Shit tricks us into thinking it will always be this way, multiplying one negative thought on the other--despair on top of doubt on top of hopelessness. Job was, you might say, trapped in a Porta Potty right there in the desert, despairingly dejected and despondent. Like Job, it is far easier to let shit consume our outlook, define our future, yank us from hope, and control our thoughts, because whether we’re stuck in a Porta Potty or stuck in any terrible circumstance, it’s always easier to lose. Was it the day drinking turned night drinking talking, or had our friend experienced a life-changing nuance from within that Porta Potty? What if we considered all the problems consuming our fighting spirit to be nothing more than shit inside a Porta Potty? Your failing relationship, my anxious thoughts, this one's motherhood woes, that one's professional problems...your piles of crap and mine...what if we recognize that our losing response to our troubles is as infectious as the crap that almost compromised our poor, innocent, Peppermint Pattie-seeking friend? And furthermore, what if we decided that our moxie wasn’t going to go down with the shit of the world? What if instead we burst through our trapped door and breathe in a fresh perspective, one that refuses to succumb to negativity, refuses to give up hope for something better, and refuses to be taken down by the crap we permit to surround us? One that ultimately turns its back on all the muck and yuck and proclaims, "I know that my redeemer lives!" (Job 19:25), a resilience that knows we permit what our attitude promotes, one that leaves the past in the past, and gets on with living and believing, or, in the case of our friend, leaves the shit in the Porta Potty and gets on with the sensation for which she crossed St. Charles Avenue at midnight. I know enough to know that perspective can be found in the most unlikely places—like a used Porta Potty—but only if we’re open to perspective. Our friend teaches us a few lessons: never go to a public bathroom alone; never change direction without alerting your party firs; but more than anything, never let the shit get the best of you. If it isn’t worth the weight, don’t carry it into the future. Leave it in the toilet where it belongs. Our friend’s story didn’t reach urban legend status, yet it does have the makings of a sensational question: Would you rather be trapped in a Porta Potty of someone else's shit for ten minutes, or spend a lifetime trapped in a Porta Potty of your own making? Annie D. Stutley lives and writes in New Orleans, La. She edits several small publications and contributes to various print and online magazines. Her blog, " That Time You, " was ranked in the Top 100 Blogs by FeedSpot. To read more of her work, go to her website , or follow her at @anniedstutley or Annie D. Stutley-writer on Facebook. Return to our Spring 2023 Table of Contents Previous Next

“We have been shown our sign…and it’s a simple one. The sign is that there are signs!” < Back Show Us a Sign! David Cowles Aug 29, 2024 “We have been shown our sign…and it’s a simple one. The sign is that there are signs!” Everybody wants a sign. Is God there? Is God listening? Does God really care about me? “Then show me a sign!” Be honest, the thought has crossed your mind…and not once. Maybe not every day…or maybe! Don’t be ashamed. We live by signs. So does the entire biosphere. Signs tell bacteria to reproduce, birds to migrate, trees to defoliate, bears to hibernate, etc. Signs tell us where we’re going and how to get there. Signs also enable predictions – I didn’t say ‘accurate predictions’ – but predictions. Squirrels gathering acorns is a sign that winter is on the way. Unless you’re ‘skint’ (or under age 25), I’ll bet you check the markets from time to time for ‘signs’ of what may be ahead for your IRA or 401k or Pension. Asking God for a sign somehow feels different though. It feels blasphemous…and ungrateful…and selfish…and it is! But relax, you’re not to blame. In the Gospels, Jesus is asked for a sign on a few occasions. How droll! According to the Gospel accounts, Jesus spent three years whistle-stopping all over Galilee, curing ailments, driving out demons, feeding multitudes, and walking on water. “What do I have to do to get an ‘Amen’ around here? What sign exactly are you looking for?” Any high school student of debate would do well to study the Gospels. Jesus is a master of repartee. He regularly turns skeptics’ questions against them. And he is rarely at a loss for words. Exception: he does get a bit flustered when asked for a sign. No wonder. His whole life is a sign. What more could anyone want? What is it that they don’t see? What would constitute an acceptable sign for this lot? So he gives answers his followers cannot understand. He mentions ‘the sign of Jonah’ and his own looming death and resurrection. Of course, he answers correctly, but for once he is talking above the heads of his audience. Let’s start with Jonah. Without getting into detail, Jonah was swallowed by a whale but coughed up on shore 3 days later, alive. It is, of course, a classic symbol of death and rebirth but I doubt Jesus’ audience understood it as more than just another run-of-the-mill miracle. References to his own future death and rebirth were, of course, totally incomprehensible at the time. So back to Jonah. Obviously, Christians see in Jonah’s ‘adventure’ a reference to Jesus’ own passion. But there is something else here too. When Jonah lands naked on the shore, he has been created anew. The Book of Jonah is as much a Creation account as it is a book of Prophecy. Jonah represents Being itself (Stephen Hawking, were he more theistically inclined, might have referred to Jonah’s whale as a ‘white hole’). Jesus incarnates Being. Christ is the whole, born and reborn, the Alpha and the Omega. But back to signs. “There can be no sign,” because everything is a sign ! That’s what the World is: a tapestry of signs. Whether you call it Maya , or Urðr (Old Norse), or Doxa , or Logos , or Phenomena , it is the obverse side of the World; it is the world we see – and it is meaningful. We have been shown our sign…and it’s a simple one. The sign is that there are signs! Does this make Jesus the world’s first semiologist? Perhaps! Archibald MacLeish once wrote, “A poem should not mean but be.” Turning MacLeish on his head, we would say, “The World should not be, but mean!” Being is the province of God; meaning is the province of the World ( logos ). This is perhaps what Jesus had in mind when he said, “…The very hairs of your head are all numbered.” Because the World is meaning , every element in that World, every hair on every human head, has meaning. To be is to mean, to mean is to be! Fast forward 1500 years. The so-called Renaissance and the pseudo-Enlightenment that followed disenchanted the World. Logos (meaning) was replaced by Techne (technology). The world was no longer something to decipher; now it was something to manipulate. The magnificent, crystalline world of signs was shattered, leaving the shards we call ‘tools’. Imagine some Philistine scrapping the pigment off the Mona Lisa and using it to paint his kitchen – Mad Max has nothing on the Renaissance & Enlightenment. But salvation would come - in the persons of Melville, Proust, Eliot, Monet, Van Gogh, Cezanne, et al. Since 1875, the intellectual project of the West has, unwittingly, been the re-enchantment of the World. Picasso, Dali and Pollack; Einstein, Heisenberg and Bell – it’s happening right here, right now! But above all these, the true Savior of the age, was the great James Joyce. All his work, but especially Ulysses , was an effort to recover and represent the semiotic content of the physical and social world. Vivisecting a single day in the life of a single city (Dublin, June 16, 1904), Joyce showed how every event, every detail points at something beyond itself. With great respect for the Council of Nicaea, it is hard to read the Gospels, especially John, and not feel that you live in enchanted space. It is impossible after reading Ulysses . He even describes the phenomenal world as ‘signatures of all things I am here to read’. Everything is a sign, ‘a cascade of signification’ in fact. That is The Sign! The Sign of signs. The Sign is that ‘everything signifies that which gives it meaning’. But meaning is regressive: A means B but B means C. Our job, per Joyce, is to peel away the layers of the semiotic onion, until… logos – the source and end point of all signification - is revealed. The logos , of course, is Christ. Jesus answers the skeptics 7 times in the Gospel of John alone. Reprising YHWH in Exodus (3: 14), Jesus simply says, “I am.” That is the sign. Not that I was born, died and resurrected, but that I am! While the World was still enchanted, a medieval Irish poet (possibly St. Dallan) wrote of God: “Naught is all else to me save that Thou art!” Whatever “is to me” is a ‘sign’ and the sign, for Dallan, is that ‘God is’. We have our sign! John spells it out in his opening verses (1 – 4): “In the beginning was the logos (word or sign) and the logos was with God and God was the logos …all things came to be through him ( logos ) and nothing that came to be came to be without him ( logos ). In him ( logos ) was life…” Ultimately, there are innumerable signs but only one ‘signified’, God. The sign of signs is not the birth, death, or resurrection of Jesus; it is the existence of the Christ: “That I am”. David Cowles is the founder and editor-in-chief of Aletheia Today Magazine. He lives with his family in Massachusetts where he studies and writes about philosophy, science, theology, and scripture. He can be reached at dtc@gc3incorporated.com Return to Table of Contents Share Previous Next Click here. Do you like what you just read? Subscribe today and receive sneak previews of Aletheia Today Magazine articles before they're published. Plus, you'll receive our quick-read, biweekly blog, Thoughts While Shaving. Subscribe Thanks for subscribing! Return to Table of Contents, Winter 2023 Issue Return to Table of Contents, Holiday Issue Return to Table of Contents, Halloween Issue Return to Table of Contents, Fall Issue Return to Table of Contents, Beach Issue Return to Table of Contents, June Issue

< Back Causality & the B-Gita “Because every event is sui generis, no event causes any other event! That said, every event contributes to the Actual World of every subsequent event.” David Cowles In an earlier article Cause and Effect , we spelled out a ‘new’ theory of causality , based in part on the philosophy of Alfred North Whitehead. According to this model, every ‘act’ ( aka Actual Entity) begins with the conversion of the disordered multiplicity that is Universe (“Universe is plural” – Buckminster Fuller) into a uniquely ordered nexus, an Actual World. Each Actual Entity (event) has its own Actual World: one world, one event; one event, one world! However, it is important to note at the outset that the Actual World does not in any way cause or determine its Actual Entity; rather every Actual Entity determines its own Actual World. The first stage in the concrescence of any Actual Entity is a single process with three aspects: (1) conversion of the Multiplicity (Universe) into a nexus (Actual World), (2) evaluation of that nexus in terms of objective eternal values, and (3) formation of intent (‘subjective aim’), not necessarily conscious, based on that evaluation. Expressed this way, these three ‘aspects’ seem to suggest a sequence; however, that is a trick of language. In fact, they constitute a single act with three simultaneous aspects. In the real world, process is multi-valent, not simply vectored through time. This initial stage is motivated and guided by transcendental values (‘eternal objects’), like Beauty, Truth, and Justice, that logically (not temporally) precede Universe and subsist in God’s Primordial Nature. The final stage in the concrescence of any Actual Entity is also a single process with three simultaneous aspects: (1) satisfaction, (2) objective immortality, and (3) superject. These aspects are denotatively identical but connotatively distinct. Here the three-in-one phenomenon is a bit more apparent. ‘Satisfaction’ is the realization of the ‘subjective aim’ as felt by the Actual Entity itself; ‘objective immortality’ is that satisfaction seen from the perspective of the Multiplicity; and ‘superject’ is that objective immortality felt by other Actual Entities, including God’s Consequent Nature. The function of every act is to convert intention into satisfaction. This is the act itself and the process is called ‘concrescence’ (Whitehead). In the process of concrescence, the subjective aim usually undergoes substantial modification. The event ends as a ‘settled matter of fact’ (objective immortality) projected (superject) into the Actual Worlds of all future Actual Entities. The ‘subject’ of the action, the Actual Entity itself, is responsible (1) for its intention (subjective aim), (2) for its objective immortality (superject), and (3) for the way (‘subjective form’) that the intention is reflected in the satisfaction. Style counts! Every event is sui generis , it ‘causes itself’. Is this Nihilism? Or Solipsism? The very opposite! Every event begins with an evaluation of ‘everything that is’, and the formation of a complex intention that reflects that valuation and the relevant values it seeks to realize. On the other hand, no event is responsible for the way it is received by and integrated into subsequent Actual Entities. That is entirely the responsibility of those subsequent entities. Because every event is sui generis , no event causes any other event! That said, every event contributes to the Actual World of every subsequent event. This model of reality is not new, not to me, not even to Whitehead. In fact, I discovered a similar concept of causality in a 2000 year old Hindu scripture, the justly famous Bhagavad Gita . Let’s set the scene: We are on a field of battle but Arjuna, commander of one of the armies, is having second thoughts. He recognizes his kinship with the warriors on the other side and he is loath to kill them: “I foresee no good resulting from slaughtering my kin in war…for if we killed these murderers, evil like theirs would cling to us…The wrong done by this destruction is evident… Nor do we know whether it would be better for us to vanquish them or to be overcome.” In just a few words, Arjuna raises three cogent arguments against ‘activism’: (1) ‘karma’ from committed acts blows back on whoever commits those acts; (2) the acts that duty calls us to perform may be immoral per se (for example, killing other human beings); (3) there is no way to know anything about the long term consequences of our actions. Fortunately, however, Arjuna is best buds with the divine Lord Krishna and this ‘Handsome Haired One’ sets the ‘Strong-Armed Warrior’ straight: “Your concern should be with action, never with action’s fruits.” Lord Krishna swats away Arjuna’s weighty reservations with the flick of his supple wrist. In the process, he exposes the unstated premise undergirding both the Renaissance and the Enlightenment: i.e., that future events ( ends ) are ‘caused’ by prior events ( means ). Krishna exhorts Arjuna to detach himself from the fruits of his actions and to focus exclusively on the actions themselves. This is not an appeal for Quietism. Rejection of the fruits of action is not the same thing as rejection of action itself: “Not by not acting in this world does one become free from action… Not even for a moment does someone exist without acting… In order to maintain the world, your obligation is to act… Should I not engage in action these worlds would perish, utterly…” Today, we know that the cessation of all activity is synonymous with Absolute Zero on the Kelvin Scale; 0°K defines Big Freeze , the end of Universe. Krishna was ahead of his time. Non-action is an illusion. To be is to act. The question is how : “Scripture is your authority for what to do and not to do. Understanding its injunctions, you are obliged to action…These actions, though, should be performed without attachment to their fruits…” By Scripture, the Gita is referring to the Hindu Vedas and the Upanishads. Scripture plays a comparable role in Judeo-Christian theology. Here though, we are referring to the Torah, the Midrashim, the Talmud, the Semon on the Mount, etc. “All actions are undertaken by the qualities of nature though one deceived by his ego imagines, ‘I am doing this’… Qualities act on one another.” In other words, God, the conduit of all values into the world, acts through us, his mortal agents. Per Whitehead, all action is motivated by qualities (values). Actual Entities are the loci of acts but the acts themselves are pure expressions of values. The ‘subject’ is merely the mechanism by which those values are realized in the present and projected into the future. “Better to do one’s own duty ineptly than another’s well.” Here, The Gita calls to mind Paul’s contemporaneous Letter to Ephesians: “For we are his handiwork, created in Christ Jesus for the good works that God had prepared in advance that we should live in them.” (2: 10) We do not determine our duty. We divine it and we perform it…or we don’t! Duty is dictated by the ‘eternal objects’ ( aka ‘transcendental values’) that constitute God’s Primordial Nature. Nor is Krishna (God) exempt from these laws ( dharma ): “In order to protect the good…and to establish righteousness, age after age, I come to be.” God too is a manifestation of ‘qualities acting on one another’. Good is what constitutes God and it is God who projects Good into Universe. No Good, no God! No God, no Good! This is a radical form of the ontological argument for the existence of God. Medieval theologians noted that some entities are ‘more good’ than others. They reasoned that there must therefore be something that is ‘ most good ’, and that whatever is ‘most good’ must exist, because it is better to exist than not. That ‘most good being’ is what we call ‘God’. The Gita arrives at the same destination via a somewhat different route; Krishna says, “Know me as one who never acts.” - i.e., as one who selflessly lets qualities act through him. Speaking of qualities, “Of lights, I am the radiant sun…of stars, I am the Moon…of beings, I am consciousness…of waters, I am Ocean…of mountains, I am the Himalayas…of mortal men, I am the king…of rivers, I am Ganges…of creations, I am beginning, middle, and end…of speakers, I am the discourse…of secrets, I am the silence, and the knowledge of those who know…” Anslem of Bec never wrote like this! But a Medieval Irish poet ( St. Dallan ) came close: “Be Thou my vision…my best thought…my light…my wisdom…my true word…my treasure...” Like Dallan, Krishna defines himself in terms of essential qualities: “I am water’s taste, Arjuna, I am the light of the sun and moon…sound in the air, manhood in men. I am the pure fragrance of earth and the radiance of fire; I am the life in all beings…the mind of the intelligent, the splendor of the radiant. I am the might of the mighty…” “And know that states of being…proceed from me – however, I am not in them, they are in me…Here behold all the universe…standing as one in my body.” “I am that which is the seed within all beings, Arjuna – without me nothing can exist.” The Gospel of John applies this same insight to Christ: “All things came to be through him and without him nothing came to be.” (1: 3) Finally, Krishna makes clear to Arjuna that he neither controls nor is responsible for the course of events in the world: “Those warriors arrayed in lines opposing your men, even without you, will have perished…I have destroyed your enemy already: serve as my tool, O Ambidextrous Archer! (Arjuna)” “Who sees himself as the sole doer, does not see…even after slaying these people, he neither slays, nor is he bound…” Arjuna is responsible for discerning his duty, perhaps with a gentle nudge from Lord Krishna, and then performing that duty to the best of his ability. That will be his legacy, not the outcome of some battle now barely visible through the fog of history. So how is any of this different from the traditional Western view of causality? I’ll grant you the distinction is subtle…but important! We tend to focus on intent, motive, ‘what was he trying to do’. The model we are proposing here includes the formation of intent but also the execution of that intent. Our judges put great emphasis on the dismount. We focus on ‘settled matters of fact’: what did he do! We are not concerned, however, with what happens next. What use future Actual Entities make of Arjuna’s Objective Immortality is between them and their God. Leave Arjuna out of it. He is not to blame for the Great London Fire (1666) or for Johnny’s poor performance on this morning’s algebra exam. So, in the spirit of Voltaire ( Candide ), “Tend to your own patch!” David Cowles is the founder and editor-in-chief of Aletheia Today Magazine. He lives with his family in Massachusetts where he studies and writes about philosophy, science, theology, and scripture. He can be reached at david@aletheiatoday.com . Return to our Harvest Issue 2023 Share Previous Next

< Back Deidre Braley Contributor Deidre Braley is author and host of The Second Cup blog/podcast, where she loves to teach people that Jesus is for them, not against them. She has a monthly newsletter on Substack and her subscribers enjoy weekly content that focuses on communing with Jesus and others, creating beauty when it's hard, and celebrating this weird and wild life. She serves as editorial advisor on The Truly Co. Publication, and has been published in both The Truly Co. magazine and Joyful Life magazine. Deidre has also recently published her 2022 Advent Guide and invites you to follow along with her during this season of anticipation. Refresh the Crèche Call Me a Dinosaur. I Won't Use ChatGPT Summer of Enchantment A Simple Christmas

< Back Voice Verbs David Cowles “I am stuck on Band-Aid ’cause Band-Aid’s stuck on me!” So says the jingle for one of the world’s most iconic products. But more importantly, and quite unexpectedly, this slogan is one of the best examples of ‘middle voice thinking’ in American pop culture. “I am stuck on Band-Aid ’cause Band-Aid’s stuck on me!” So says the jingle for one of the world’s most iconic products. But more importantly, and quite unexpectedly, this slogan is one of the best examples of ‘middle voice thinking’ in American pop culture. We are used to sentences built around active (or passive) voice verbs. (The passive voice is just the active voice turned around.) ‘Billy hit Tommy’ and ‘Tommy was hit by Billy’ describe the exact same event but each with a different focus. The active voice puts the focus on Billy (the one who hit) while the passive voice focuses on Tommy (the one who was hit). But what about the more likely scenario that Billy and Tommy are simply fighting. In English, we have to say, “Tommy and Billy hit each other.” Clumsy! Other languages, especially ancient languages, often include a third voice, the ‘middle voice’. If English had a middle voice, there would be a form of the verb ‘to hit’ that would convey simply the ‘middle voice’ reality of this event. In Icelandic, the language with a middle voice that is closest to English, you usually just add ‘st’ to the end of the root verb to make it middle voice: “Billy and Tommy hitst,” for example. The band-aid jingle highlights this dilemma. Is the bandage stuck on you (active voice) or are you stuck on the bandage (passive voice)? Or are you and the bandage ‘stuckst’ (middle voice)? See how the active and passive voices distort slightly what happens with a band-aid. It takes a middle voice verb form to properly convey what is actually going on. So, who cares? Well, we all do or at least we all should. The current active-passive dualism makes us prone to think in categories such as ‘maker-made’, ‘employer-employee’, ‘ruler-ruled’. I’s exploit it’s. For some purposes, the dominance of active/passive voice verb forms may make practical sense. After all, this is the language of the industrial revolution: skyscrapers and assembly lines. But it is decidedly not the language of interpersonal relations. The philosopher Martin Buber called the proper relationship between two persons ‘I thou’ (rather than ‘I it’). ‘I thou’ is Buber’s way of introducing middle voice thinking into languages (German and English) that do not have a middle voice verb form. One of the most profound lessons of the New Testament is that what I do to another is simultaneously done to me. I am both the subject and the object of my actions. But without a middle voice verb form, we Anglophones have no easy way to express this ethos – and therefore we tend to lose sight of it in our everyday lives – at immense personal and social cost. Previous Next

< Back /ˈdjuːti/ Annie D. Stutley Why can’t a monarch wear whatever shade of nail polish she wants? Years ago, when I was performing in Noel Coward’s Blithe Spirit in my alma mater’s spring arts festival, I had to master the British dialect—well, as much as a teenager from south Louisiana could. In my dialect training, one word stood out from the rest: duty. I relished how the pronunciation promenaded off my tongue: /ˈdjuːti/. That “j” after the “d” made all the difference. When I spoke it, I instantly found myself standing taller, shoulders back…regal. Before my entrance each evening, I’d stand in the wings, whispering, “duty, duty, duty,” drumming the word over and over to warm up my dialect and get into character. My character, Elvira, was no stiff-upper-lipped queen, though. In fact, she was mischievous, morally flippant, but nonetheless hailed from the UK; and no word breathed the land of tea and scones, country sides and dressage, polo and Paddington Bear into me more than noble, dignified “duty.” I’d go on to inherit my mother’s tendency toward Anglophilia. I can rattle off the difference between afternoon tea and high tea with more confidence than I can explain the purpose of Groundhog’s Day. (Which shadow is the one we want? I never remember.) I’m both a Mayflower and Jamestown descendant, and yet I have more books about the Plantagenets than I do the colonists, and when I stood in the childhood bedroom of Anne Boleyn at Hever Castle five years ago, I was at a complete loss for words, a reverence I usually reserve for places of holy significance. Through all this, “/ˈdjuːti/, /ˈdjuːti/, /ˈdjuːti/” is what I utter as I turn on another rerun of Downton Abbey and picture life as a countess. If you’re watching the coverage of the death of Queen Elizabeth II, you hear “duty” repeated, except it is often alongside the noun selflessness. “The queen was ever committed to her selfless duty, country before self.” Duty is defined as a moral or legal responsibility, something we may not want to do but something we should do because, well, “it’s our duty.” It seems selfless is almost unnecessary. Did the queen secretly want to let her sister marry the man she truly loved, regardless of the scandalous optics? Probably. Did she even want to have such a big funeral for Diana? Maybe not. Did she even like that shade of pink nail polish she exclusively wore, Ballet Slippers, but only wore it because…wait. Why can’t a monarch wear whatever shade of nail polish she wants? Because duty? That one seems a little stuffy, even for Great Britain. But regardless, my point is we equate duty with an elite class when the essence of duty is about as humble as anything abstract can be because isn’t duty just another word for sacrifice? Make believe is fun no matter my age, but silly, Annie. Duty, not even /ˈdjuːti/, is reserved only for the divine right of kings. In fact, it was the king of kings who left all of us with one job: duty. Jesus didn’t deliver what would become the Great Commandment ( Matthew 22:36-40 ) to a room of royalty. It was directed toward all of us regular sinners, people like you and me, and Queen Elizabeth, also a regular sinner. The Beatitudes? Same. The Lord’s Prayer? Yep, for all of us. The prodigal son, the mustard seed, and the pharisee and the tax collector? He was calling all of us to duty, all of us to love God and let that reverence produce forgiveness, generosity, wisdom, faith, and hope regardless of its convenience. I find it noteworthy that my key verse this week in my devotional is Colossians 3:23-2: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” In other words, assuming our life’s calling isn’t illegal or morally corrupt, whatever we do, we must do it for righteousness, knowing that a kingdom awaits all of us who believe. Thoughts While Shaving is the official blog of Aletheia Today Magazine ( ATM) . To never miss another Thought, choose the subscribe option below. Also, follow us on any one of our social media channels for the latest news from ATM. Thanks for reading! Previous Next

< Back Brexit David Cowles Feb 21, 2023 “What was lost on the battlefield was won back in the taverns, classrooms and monasteries of medieval England. The turning point: Geoffrey Chaucer…who says art can’t change the world?” I am sure our readers have a variety of views on the UK’s latest ‘Declaration of Independence’. Like the American Declaration of Independence, promulgated in 1776 but not recognized by treaty until 1782, the policy of ‘Brexit’ was settled by referendum in 2016 but was not fully implemented until January 31, 2020. It is not our intent here to reenact the Battle of Brexit. Instead, we’re looking to situate Brexit in the context of Britain’s long struggle for independence – from the Romans, the Vikings, the Normans, the Spanish (armada), and most recently, the Nazis. We begin with the Roman conquest, which brought Latin and, ultimately, Christianity to the island. The Romans ‘pulled out’ of Britain in 410 CE…just in time for ‘King Arthur’ in the late 5 th century CE. Arthur notwithstanding, the Roman influence persisted until King Alfred the Great suggested that educators teach their classes in English ( aka Old English or Anglo-Saxon) rather than the traditional Latin. While Britain was ‘liberated’ from Roman rule in the 5 th century, it was not until the 9 th century that its English identity was fully restored. Restored only to be threatened again, first by the Danes, then by the Normans. In 1066 William defeated King Harold at the Battle of Hastings. Once again, Britain’s cultural identity was threatened. A dialect of Old French known as Anglo-Norman replaced Anglo-Saxon (Old English) as the language of record in government and commerce, the language of the nobility and the nascent merchant clash. If the first estate was still dominated by ‘Church Latin’, the second and third estates were firmly Anglo-Norman. By the 13 th century, much of the English elite could no longer speak, or even understand, English. But the new lingua franca did not trickle down. The peasantry and the nascent proletariat continued to speak the language of Beowulf and kept it alive as it incorporated some Norman vocabulary and morphed into Middle English ( Piers Ploughman , e.g.) on its way to becoming recognizably modern English. In a triumph of cultural democracy, and contrary to all expectations, then and now, English won out! What was lost on the battlefield was won back in the taverns, classrooms and monasteries of medieval England. The turning point: Geoffrey Chaucer (d. 1400). To the chagrin of many an English schoolkid, the ability to read Chaucer was then and still is a sine qua non of English literacy. In only a few decades, social classes that no longer spoke or even understood English, became native English speakers. Henry IV in 1399 was the first king since the Norman Conquest to include English in the coronation ceremony. His successor, Henry V (1413), was the first to conduct the coronation ceremony exclusively in English. Do not imagine that this was an easy transition. Anglo-Norman and Middle English have little in common. William the Conqueror, no slouch, tried to learn English…but failed. Chaucer began work on his Canterbury Tales in 1387; 25 years later the language of Chaucer was the language of all England. There is scarcely a trace of Anglo-Norman influence (except in imported Romance vocabulary) in the United Kingdom today. The language is not even studied in school. It is a dead language, a linguistic cul-de-sac …all because of the work of some poet ! Who says art can’t change the world? Drool on, Karl Marx, drool on! I am aware of no better example of successful resistance to cultural imperialism than this and no better example of the utter triumph of the proletariat over the nobility and the bourgeoisie. Today, the British Isles are frantically fighting to reclaim their ancient Celtic and Norse languages, including Gaelic, Manx, Welsh, Cornish, and some Old Norse derivatives. The outcome is uncertain at best. My suggestion: take a page out of Chaucer’s book. Create a body of work so compelling that educated people will have to learn the language it’s written in. How are you as a Welsh poet? Previous Share Next Do you like what you just read and want to read more Thoughts? Subscribe today for free! Thoughts While Shaving - the official blog of Aletheia Today Magazine. Click here.

< Back The Dance of Autumn Deborah Rutherford "Autumn is a season of Remembrance – where we remember what God has done for us and are thankful and praise Him for His Goodness." Can we reflect on God's goodness as the seasons change and Winter approaches? I called my husband, Don, into the prayer room. Outside the large windows adorned with white faux wood blinds, we marveled at the first leaves of Fall changing their hues. I had anticipated this moment—the vibrant burst of colors. Yet, soon, the trees would shed their foliage, nearly stripping themselves bare. Don remarked, "See, Fall has arrived," as I recalled the skeptics who had doubted its arrival this year. We had just returned from our annual beach trip to Florida, which we had delayed this year, allowing us to experience the transition from Summer to Fall. At the beach, it still felt like Summer, despite what the calendar said. We basked in the sun, enjoyed the ocean waves, and relished in the warmth. I asked Don what Fall meant to him, and he replied, "Football, turkey, outdoor barbecues, watching the leaves change, and eventually raking them up." I nodded in agreement, acknowledging the beauty of the leaves, even though I knew they would eventually fall and need to be gathered into piles. As I contemplated this change of season, I pondered my own feelings about Fall. Had I harvested and reaped what was necessary in my life? Were there things I needed to let go of? Don and I had just emerged from a challenging and demanding season, facing trials that felt like walking through a den of lions. Yet, with God's guidance, we had made it through. Now, we found ourselves on the mountaintop of faith, enjoying the harvest and redemption that only God could provide after such a trying journey. I reflected on the various changes happening in my circle of friends and family—some leaving long careers behind, others facing unexpected health challenges, and some embarking on new journeys like my brother-in-law with his new job. In some cases, I witnessed how God had transformed adversity into beauty. I questioned the nature of this season and why I felt hesitant to fully embrace it. I admitted it: as the season began and everyone around me discussed Autumn, shared fall-inspired pictures, and engaged in debates over chips and salsa versus pumpkin spice, it left me somewhat uncertain. I noticed a friend posting pictures of her fall wardrobe, complete with plaid skirts and pumpkin-colored dresses, and another wearing flannel. I wondered if I was ready for the transition, as I still sported shorts and sundresses with sun-kissed skin. My husband hung up our Autumn wreath and surprised me with a bouquet of sunflowers. I heard Autumn beckoning me, assuring me that I belonged in this season. The birds and squirrels seemed to concur as they went about their preparations, and farmers worked tirelessly in the fields. I could almost hear the angels singing. God whispered to me, "This season is for you as well. You belong in this time, from the beginning of time to its end. Come, dance with me." I felt the leaves crunch beneath my tennis shoes, the breeze brushing against my shoulder, and my husband's love as we decorated the house and simmered apple, cinnamon, and vanilla potpourri on the stove. "Join me in the soothing lullaby of the Harvest," God urged, "I have provided for you, and I want to fill you with joy that will spill over to others. This is a season of celebration, solace, and remembrance." Amidst the wind, songs, and devotions, I reminded myself to remember God's goodness. He had chosen and treasured me. Autumn was a time for both Harvest and the preparation of our hearts through gratitude and remembrance. It marked the beginning of the Holy Days, tracing back to an exodus that continued to shape our lives, leading us to the most significant event in human history—the birth of our Lord Jesus, which ultimately led to redemption. So, I took the leap, embraced this Harvest season, and donned a rust, gold, and cream dress. Walking the path near my home, I inhaled deeply, resting in God's love for me. The warmth of the sun caressed me, and I felt immense comfort. There was a change in the air, and a full, radiant moon graced the sky. I rejoiced in the moment, knowing that it was a privilege to be alive. Down the path, as sunlight filtered through the trees, I noticed some leaves beginning to change. It was a symphony of colors and transformation, a masterpiece crafted by God Himself. But I wondered, how do we, as God's people, navigate this sacred season? It was a time for thanksgiving, rejoicing, and gratitude, as seasons always brought transformation. This particular change, however, was God's reminder to remember His goodness during the Autumn of our lives, preparing us for the Winter ahead. The bountiful Harvest sustained us during leaner times, both spiritually and physically. God's wisdom in leading us through the cycles of nature mirrored the seasons of our lives, and together, we walked hand in hand. "O give thanks unto the Lord; for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever" (Psalm 136:1 KJV). Autumn served as a season of Remembrance, where we acknowledged God's blessings and praised Him for His goodness. His grace flowed not because of our deeds but because He was inherently good. We remembered: Our eternal journey, regardless of our circumstances. Heaven as a place of abundance and plenty. Past blessings and God's faithfulness in providing. Gratitude for daily blessings, recognizing that God's goodness extended to the ordinary. Living in a state of thanksgiving, finding joy in it all. Autumn was a delicious season of Harvest, when leaves fell and we reaped what we had sown. It was a season to hold onto faith and believe in God's promise that it would be beautiful. For it was a privilege to be alive, and I vowed to make every day count. This seasonal display was orchestrated by God and always arrived as a reminder: God remained in control. His nature was unchanging. His power extended over all creation as the Creator and Artist behind all this beauty. Remembering God's goodness in Autumn prepared us for Winter. The abundance of the Harvest sustained us during leaner times. God had provided us with this beautiful planet, the gift of breath and life. Shifting our hearts towards gratitude helped us remember that when Winter came, we needed to have faith and trust that God was still in control. Just as the leaves fell and lay dormant in Winter, they would burst forth with life in Spring, mirroring the resurrection of Jesus and the eventual celebration of all Creation. A Harvest Prayer Dear Heavenly Father, We thank you for the Sacred Seasons, both in nature and in our lives. These transformations, seen in the changing leaves and bountiful Harvest, remind us of your presence. May we gather together in your name, whether at our tables, pumpkin patches, or football games. May we encounter you in every aspect of the changing seasons, for everything has its time. Thank you for your boundless love and for including us in the magnificent transformation of life itself. May we share your love with everyone we meet as we prepare for the greatest gift of all—the celebration of the birth of Jesus. Thank you, God, for equipping us and all of Creation for Winter in the dance of Autumn. In Jesus's name, Amen. Deborah Rutherford is a Christian wife who loves to write stories, devotionals, and poetry. She is also an award-winning makeup artist. Deborah shares her journey of faith, joy, and beauty on her blog at www.deborahrutherford.com and social media. She is a contributing writer for Aletheia Today Magazine , Kingdom Edge Magazine and Gracefully Truthful Ministries and has a devotional in the book “Shepherd on Duty: Promises of God you Can Trust ” (Arabelle Publishing) and the Calla Press, Literary Journal Spring 2023. Return to our Harvest Issue 2023 Previous Next

< Back Bacteriology…and American Football David Cowles “…Will it surprise you to learn that not every bacterium is a team player?” (I am indebted to Holly Barker, Ph.D., and Mariella Bodemeier Loayza Careaga, Ph.D., for these insights into the science of bacteriology and to my grandfather, J. Leo Foley, for my appreciation of the art of football.) As children, we waited impatiently for the ‘major holidays’, Halloween and Christmas, and somewhat more patiently for ‘minor holidays’ like Thanksgiving and the 4 th of July. As adults, our priorities have changed: now we join the rest of America in counting down the hours to the beginning of another NFL/NCAA football season. But what on earth does bacteriology have to do with football? A lot, as it turns out, and I’m not talking about COVID-19 infections. Turns out, an understanding of football can enhance our appreciation of cellular processes…and vice versa. In contrast to the bacteria that we (and by ‘we’ I mean ‘you’) study in the lab, most prokaryotes (cells without nuclei) in nature live in complex communities, often consisting of several interacting, cooperating species. Within these communities, different bacteria assume different responsibilities. Some individuals focus on reproduction to expand the colony, while others specialize in construction, oozing proteins that make up the extracellular superstructure. Yet other bacteria defend the community, building and shooting molecular weapons (toxins) at competitors. What makes this interesting, and important, is that these secondary functions are not hard-wired. Like Shakespeare’s players , ‘one cell in its time plays many parts’. As the needs of the community change, an individual bacterium may take on new responsibilities. In populations of Bacillus subtilis , for example, young microbes are responsible for the production of the colony’s extracellular superstructure, but as that construction progresses, some cells switch to producing spores or enzymes. So how do bacterial colonies coordinate this division of labor? Most likely, they don’t! Then how does it happen? Perhaps individual bacteria simply amplify random fluctuations in cellular chemistry, resulting in auto-specialization. Inefficient, but possible. More likely, cells may react to perceived stresses in the colony, taking it upon themselves to fill the gaps. In no case, however, is it likely that the morphing of cell function is due to the cell’s structure ‘at birth’ or to direction from some central or hierarchical ‘authority’. Football commentary places a lot of emphasis on game plan (i.e., the X’s and O’s, the plays as designed). This is the functional equivalent of the bacterium’s DNA. But does strategy (alone) win football games? Of course not, execution is key, and execution comes in two flavors: How well does the team execute its designed plays? How well does the team execute plays that are not designed, i.e. the plays that happen once the designed plays fall apart in the fog…in other words, all plays? Researchers have known for more than 20 years that bacteria differentiate in order to enable complex social behaviors that benefit the colony as a whole. But will it surprise you to learn that not every bacterium is a team player? Hmm. While members of the colony generally ‘realize’ that the overall health of the colony broadly benefits its members, it is also the case that some players seek to enhance their individual well-being by free riding . Sound familiar? Instead of producing (secreting) socially valuable molecules, these cells assume the role of consumers , reaping where they did not sow, taking advantage of the insight and labor of their eleemosynary cousins. So how is a football team like a colony of bacteria? First, each player is assigned a ‘position’ and that position includes a specific set of behaviors which become that player’s primary responsibility. But as with bacterial colonies, this is only the beginning. As each play unfolds, novel stresses arise which must be addressed if the team is going to meet its goals (e.g., score points). After fulfilling their prime directive , each player must react ‘to circumstances on the ground’: What secondary function can I perform that will increase the play’s likelihood of success? My pass route’s a bust; can I still get open? I knocked down one defender: why not two? I’m supposed to run over Center, but the front’s a brick wall; should I run to daylight? I missed one tackle; but can I still catch up to the action and try again? And the free riders ? These are the guys who ‘do their jobs’…who just do their jobs. They will throw themselves full force into a pig pile…once the ball carrier is safely down…or push a retreating runner out of bounds. So long as the free riders are relatively few, and team relatively successful, these malcontents are likely to get away with their shenanigans. But once free riding proliferates, or the team starts to lose, as it will, watch out! Since Genesis, we humans have shamefully sought to distance ourselves from ‘lower’ life forms; you know, plants, other animal species, people from other tribes, races, nations…the usual suspects. But the last 50 years have made it crystal clear that this strategy is a bust! It is as impractical as it is immoral. We need a new, more inclusive, bio-ethics, and I suggest that we begin our investigations with a new guiding principle: “Bacteria…and football players…are people too!” Keep the conversation going! 1. Click here to comment on this TWS. 2. To subscribe (at no cost) to TWS and ATM, follow this link . 3. We encourage new articles and reprints from freelance writers ; click here to view out Writers’ Specs. 4. Aletheia Today Magazine (ATM) will be devoting its entire fall issue (released 9/1/23) to artificial intelligence (AI). What are the philosophical, theological, cultural and even spiritual implications of AI powered world? If you’d like to contribute to the AI Issue, click here . Previous Next

< Back Jan Heckler Contributor Jan Heckler was called to Africa beginning in Zimbabwe before 911. She received doctoral training at U. of Fla.. Sharing effective teaching methods became a primary way she serves God in mission. Jan is a published author and has taught in Namibia and Malawi - twice, winning teaching awards. As a consultant for the Govt of Ethiopia, she helped attain a five-donor nation-World Bank funding package for $417 million. Forced into early retirement by injuries she writes and consults from her home in Berkeley. Mamisoa