more important things

“There are more important things.”

I was talking to one of my coworkers recently about some of the frustrations we encounter in our work on a daily basis, and the ultimate fact that, although there are frustrations, and we have to work through them in order to work with excellence, there are more important things in life. At the end of the day, we must leave it behind. That’s one of the reasons I have a hard time doing “work” work at home – if my job follows me home, important though it is, it’s much easier to lose sight of the fact that there are more important things in life. 

Ultimately, it's an issue of purpose – what, or who are we really doing this for? God? Family? Country? And why are we doing it? I need a persistent reminder that everything I do should be ordered to the greater glory of God – in Latin, ad majorem Dei gloriam – AMDG – this is written on a Post-It note and stuck on the top of my monitor at work, so I see it every time I look up. I try to remember to write it at the top of the notes I take in the course of each day - not out of habit, but with intention, to recall to mind purpose. There is a reason for the things that I do. Incidentally, AMDG is the motto St. Ignatius of Loyola gave the Jesuit order, which he founded. I didn’t know this until quite recently – I’d known the abbreviation AMDG and its Latin meaning, but never its origins. St. Ignatius chose this motto for the Jesuits based on the idea that all work done without evil intent, is done for good and thus can be thought of as offered for the greater glory of God. 


I love that idea, because in it, St. Ignatius recognized that everything we do is important to the kingdom of God and can be good and right and even holy - even if it's not work done explicitly for the Church or in the name of Christ - it is the work of Christians in the world, and so long as we work for good and not evil, we work for God. It also makes AMDG equally a reminder and an exhortation: a reminder of purpose, and an exhortation to work for good and thus for God. There are many things more important than our work, and knowing for Whom we truly work is most important.  






+peace, and all good.

"like the dewfall"

If you're a Mass-going Catholic, you are undoubtedly familiar with the changes to the Roman Missal that have caused more funny moments at Mass in the last three or so months than I can count. If you're not Catholic, or a non-Mass-going Catholic, this post probably won't mean much, if anything to you. Read it anyway. ;-)

But those of you who are Catholics of the Mass-going variety, mmmhmm, you know what I mean, slipping into "And also with you," instead of saying "And with your spirit," or stumbling over "consubstantial"... or forgetting that "It is right and just," not "It is right to give Him thanks and praise."

Everyone seems to be getting somewhat adjusted to the words of the new translation now - though I admit that every so often, I subconsciously panic during the Lord's Prayer, thinking I'm going to mess up the words to something that didn't change.

All humor aside, have you listened, really listened, to the words in the new translation of the Mass? They're stunningly beautiful. The more literal re-translation of the Mass from the Latin has (in my opinion) added an entire new dimension of beauty to its words.

One of my favorites: dewfall. "Make holy, therefore, these gifts, we pray, by sending down your Spirit upon them like the dewfall, so that they may become for us the Body and Blood of our Lord, Jesus Christ." It's a beautiful word to begin with, I think, but the meaning beneath it is even more extraordinary, as it recalls how God nourished the Israelites in the desert with manna that came with the morning dewfall. And not only that, but - to get geeky on you - in order for dew to fall in the natural sense, the dewpoint must be reached. This is, effectively, where the air has become saturated with moisture, and can't hold any more - so it deposits on the earth as dew. "Sending down your Spirit upon them like the dewfall..." It's like asking God to saturate the celebration of the Mass so thoroughly and deeply with His Spirit that it will overflow from the gifts brought for consecration to all of us through the nourishment of the Eucharist. 


Ah, yeah. I could go on to write about a few more of my favorites, but the dewfall gets me every time, so I think I'll save those for later (so many things to save for another time!). Peace, and all good, my friends.

kaboom! the big bang?

I think we're all familiar with the Big Bang Theory, right?

No, not the TV show about geeky scientists and engineers that those of us in the scientific community know is much, much too true to life.


The scientific theory. You know the one - the one that says the universe is ever-expanding, and that this expansion finds its origin in a single point (mathematically termed, a singularity) that "exploded" out along time ago in the "big bang."

Yeah, that big bang. The one that generated yet more controversy in the debate between science and religion over origins. That debate has, at times, degraded into something like this :

Science: The Big Bang Theory: the universe began from the rapid expansion of a very hot, dense state - a singularity. No need for a Creator here, folks. 


Religion: The Big Bang Theory: God said, "Bang!" and it happened. Can I get an AMEN?

Forgive me for interjecting some humor into the discussion. ;-)

The problem, at least as I see it, is that neither side really knows where this theory came from to begin with, and then, that both sides need to - yes, I'm going to say it - both sides need to get over themselves and realize that there's no need to take sides when we can live together peaceably! So let's clear this up a little.

The Big Bang Theory was first postulated by a brilliant Belgian physicist, Georges Lemaitre. Let me be more specific, though.

It would be more correct and proper to refer to Lemaitre as Monsignor Georges Lemaitre.

Yes. That's right. He was a Catholic priest. And an MIT-educated physicist. All at the same time.

I believe Lemaitre understood, as so many on both sides of the argument today do not, that the point of science is not to prove or disprove the existence of God.

The point of science is to study the natural world. The point of theology is to study God. Science and theology inevitably meet up for persons of faith, and they often meet up in that place we call beauty - i.e., when we look up at the stars at night, and can only think of the words to the old hymn "Conditor Alme Siderum," - in English, "Creator of the Stars of Night".

I can't come up with any kind of experiment to do in my lab that will prove or disprove the existence of God, and that's. just. fine. It's not why I do science. I do science to learn about the world around me, and to apply what I learn in developing improved technologies to help people. Not to say I don't pray for my experiments to work, but that's another issue entirely!

It seems to me that too many people on both sides of the proverbial fence have lost sight of what I think are a few fundamental facts. We would do well to recall that:

First, it really doesn't matter what science discovers about the origins of the world. God is not a measurable, observable, quantifiable phenomenon... which places Him outside the realm of science. Remember that the next time you hear an atheist physicist go on and on about how God can't possibly exist. That's really his own personal belief talking - it's not anything he discovered in the lab. Sure, the Big Bang may have been what started the expansion of the universe and set into motion what eventually became our living world. That doesn't mean it happened by itself! Science cannot touch faith, for good reason. It can't put a number on it. But it also doesn't mean that scientists who are also people of faith do not see the action of God in the things we observe in the course of our work.

Secondly, science is not the enemy - but we must know where science stands. Those who work in science, by and large, are not in this game to even attempt to prove or disprove the existence of God. We understand that God is, as stated above, not a quantifiable phenomenon. We're curious about fundamental laws that govern natural processes, and what we can learn about what makes the universe tick - even if it's on the far less than astrophysical scale, say, synthesizing a new material that could have biomedical applications or the like. We want to learn about nature, and on the engineering side, how we can find ways to mimic its intricate workings. Yes, there are plenty of atheists in science, but there are plenty of believers, too. The atheists may often get more attention. That doesn't mean the rest of us aren't still here. As scientists, we must be confident in the tools provided us to tease out the nature of nature, but also willing to humbly commit ourselves to where science can reasonably take us, and cognizant of where it can't.

Thirdly, faith is also not the enemy - but we must know where we stand in our faith with respect to science. Just like some atheist scientists don't do themselves any favors running their mouths about their personal lack of belief in God, so we must take care not to defame scientific discoveries because we don't understand them, or they don't seem to fit in with the literal story of creation laid out in Genesis. Believing in God need not make us anti-science, and certainly should not make us scared of science and scientific discoveries. We know Who we believe in. We don't know everything about how He created the world... and that's okay. (Hey, it gives some of us day jobs!! Good for the economy!) As believers, we must be confident in our faith, willing to let science do its duty in uncovering secrets of the world God created, and cognizant of the fact that since God's mind conceived of the entire universe and all its intricacies, we have much to learn about both God, and His creation.

Instead of seeing only a battle between faith and science, it would do us well, perhaps, to consider each as the other's fulfillment. Science illuminates the creation of the God in whom we believe; faith gives purpose to the amazing order that science has observed in the universe. Complementarity, not opposition. Einstein said it well, "Science without religion is lame. Religion without science is blind."

"Creator of the stars of night,

your people's everlasting light,

O Christ, Redeemer of us all,

we pray you hear us when we call.

In sorrow that the ancient curse

should doom to death a universe,

you came, O Savior, to set free

your own in glorious liberty..." 

+peace, and all good!

all things great and small

Quick hit for Sunday night, because I have to get up for work tomorrow, and because there's a good book waiting on the table next to me as I type this.

Just a thought I had this evening as I was outside, enjoying a few minutes in the early evening darkness, looking at the stars.

In the day to day, I work largely in the world of small things - things the naked eye can't see, that require all manner of optics and microscopes to be revealed. And I admit, I don't often consider the hand of God as it presents itself in these things - I wonder, perhaps I would be more inclined to if I were a microbiologist? But I'm a materials scientist - and the things under my microscope don't generally move of their own accord - and if they did, I'd be worried!

But when I look up at the glittering stars in all their glory, it's hard to miss the hand of God. I suppose that's due in part to the fact that the stars are so much larger than us, and so far away - it's easier to perceive the role of the supernatural in things that are so far beyond us.

It's a remarkable analogy for the spiritual life, isn't it?

How easily I see the hand of God in the big things in life - and yet how easily I forget His influence in the small things - something I should be more mindful of.


+peace, and all good!

keeping it light on Saturday night ;-)

Science provides us with incredible insights into the physical world, large and small. 

Science can also provide us with insight into the why the physical world sometimes causes us a share of misery... ... of what, you ask, do I write? Well, there's nothing deep or profound about this, it's just become clear to me that allergy season is alive, well, and back for its next round. I could go all geekish on you with the biochemistry of how allergies work, but since it's after 11:00, and my allergies are currently doing this work themselves, I think I'll spare us all for now on that angle. Maybe another time. ;-)

In any case, juniper, thank you SO MUCH for your reappearance at the "high" level in the pollen count:

Yes, juniper, I know it's you... and not your buddies elm and sycamore... because I remember the grand times we had last year that involved large amounts of antihistimines. Here's hoping your visit will be brief! 

All sarcasm aside, it really is remarkable that something so small - a juniper pollen grain is only 25-30 microns in diameter - can cause so much awfulness!! Obviously, the "awfulness" happens when a bunch of those pollen grains get together and go airborne (strength in numbers, heh), but still... something so tiny... such a massive impact. Just so we know what the enemy looks like, here's a nice mug shot, er, I mean, micrograph of a juniper pollen spore from the University of Arizona:

And that's what we call keeping it light on Saturday night, folks. I'm gonna go pop a Claritin and get some sleep. 


+peace, and all good!

Friday!

Friday. It's a wonderful day.

You know, at work, Fridays are typically the "easy" day of the week. Everyone's dressed down (heh, more than usual) and a little more relaxed than we have been for the previous four days. Less time in meetings, more time to get actual work done, and there's always some time left over to chat with coworkers about whatever the weekend holds, or who's going where for a beer after work.

It's the end of the work week! Yay!!! Casual Fridays, the occasional happy hour with friends and coworkers after the week's loose ends are tied up - all the usual Friday fare. But Friday is a paradox for us, too, one that's made particularly visible when Lent rolls around. The Fridays we look forward to, and some of us practically live for, suddenly recall an entirely different reality - a reminder of the Passion.

In all seasons (not just Lent), Friday's Morning Prayer recalls this reality, and our need for penitence, with Psalm 51:

"Have mercy on me, God, in your kindness.

In your compassion blot out my offense.

O wash me more and more from my guilt

and cleanse me from my sin.

My offenses truly I know them;

my sin is always before me.

Against you, you alone, have I sinned;

what is evil in your sight I have done.

That you may be justified when you give sentence

and be without reproach when you judge.

O see, in guilt I was born,

a sinner was I conceived.

Indeed you love truth in the heart;

then in the secret of my heart teach me wisdom.

O purify me, then I shall be clean;

O wash me, I sall be whiter than snow.

Make me hear rejoicing and gladness,

that the bones you have crushed may revive.

From my sins turn away your face

and blot out all my guilt.

A pure heart create for me, O God,

put a steadfast spirit within me.

Do not cast me away from your presence,

nor deprive me of your holy spirit.

Give me again the joy of your help;

with a spirit of fervor sustain me,

that I may teach transgressors your ways

and sinners may return to you.

O rescue me, God, my helper,

and my tongue shall ring out your goodness.

O Lord, open my lips

and my mouth shall declare your praise.

For in sacrifice you take no delight,

burnt offering from me you would refuse,

my sacrifice, a contrite spirit.

A humbled, contrite heart you will not spurn.

In your goodness, show favor to Zion;

rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem.

Then you will be pleased with lawful sacrifice,

holocausts offered on your altar."

Yes, Fridays are good - but Lent reminds us more strongly of a Friday that was indeed Good - but in a very different way.


+peace, and all good!

flowers, from the dark

Yesterday, I mentioned that the amaryllis plant I keep in my bathroom had just bloomed.

Amaryllis is a bulb, and an interesting one - you have to plant it with the top of the bulb above the dirt, and it's not terribly attractive until its leaves start to grow, long and green. Last year, after I received the bulb as a gift and planted it, its leaves grew and it attempted to bloom. Sadly, the flower died before fully opening, but true to a bulb, the leaves stayed green and kept growing for several more months.

I'm not a botanist by any means, so I'm a bit out of my territory here, but one of the cool things about bulbs is that you can encourage them to bloom again if you put them in the right conditions. I don't know the plant biochemistry that effects this (although I'd guess it probably has something to do with the regulation of chlorophyll in the plant's cells, or something like that!), and I didn't really know much about the right conditions for amaryllis, but had heard that you could put it in the dark for a few weeks after the last leaves died to encourage it to bloom. So, I put the pot on an empty shelf in a closet. I left it there for, oh, probably 8-10 weeks or so, and occasionally watered it. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I opened the closet door to find the plant's leaves growing again, with what appeared to be a flower stalk beginning to form. I pulled it out and left it on the bathroom counter, and sure enough, this week, two lovely, big, pink flowers opened.

I was thinking about this, and it struck me as rather appropriate that the amaryllis bloomed right at the beginning of Lent. A reminder that beautiful things come out of darkness and dryness - two things that are often companions in our spiritual lives - and that I have sometimes felt more intensely during Lent.

I'll leave my thoughts here for today, and leave you with a pic of that lovely amaryllis:

+peace, and all good+

lent: it's more than giving up candy

"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

What's the big deal about Lent? Is it really about giving stuff up for forty days? Well, not exactly.

We should really start with what the word Lent actually means: spring. Yes, it's true, the word Lent means "spring" - as in the season, spring, not a coiled piece of wire! The word's roots are in old Germanic languages, and from what I've read, the original root word was similar to "long," and came to mean spring because of the way the days lengthen in springtime. I had a nice reminder of this early this morning when I noticed that the amaryllis I keep in my bathroom had started blooming. Springtime.

Lent, isn't supposed to be a sad, dreary 40 days of gloom... it should be a time of growth (though growth involves sacrifice, to be sure!)... because things grow in the spring; they thrive in the sunlight of spring's lengthening days.

Thinking about it this way, I realize that I approach Lent the wrong way sometimes. Well, let me rephrase that. I think I could approach Lent from a more fruitful perspective.

Instead of thinking about giving things up, perhaps I should come at this from a different angle, and consider what I can do to grow in these 40 days of springtime.

Can I make a greater effort to show kindness to those around me? What can I do for the people of God - what can I do to take the focus off of myself, and seek Christ in those around me? What can I do to show the world that I, as a Christian, value human dignity as a precious and sacred gift from God? What can I do to show the world that I am a Christian, period? How can I better live the words of St. Francis of Assisi, "preach the gospel - when necessary, use words"?

Of course, this ties back nicely into Lenten self-denial and self-discipline, because a) doing more for our brothers and sisters in Christ, doing more for the Church, almost always means giving something up (time? talent?) and moreover, b) it's not always easy to love those around us.

It's not always easy to acknowledge the God-given dignity present in each person on this earth... EACH and EVERY person on this earth. Including the five different people who cut me off in traffic on my way home yesterday.

That love and that acknowledgement are a choice, conscious decisions I have to make, we have to make, and every time we have the opportunity to make those choices, we have the opportunity to choose God over ourselves, to choose love over pride.

It's not easy to show the world that I am a Christian. I struggle with it every single day, and fail more often than I succeed.

It's not easy to try and hold my tongue instead of sharing the latest juicy bits of gossip, it's not easy to hold back my anger and the words that come with it.

It's hard to forgive and bring love to those who hurt me.

It's hard to be people of peace in a torn world.

It's hard to be a faithful witness to the Gospel.

Yet, we are exhorted in another invocation used in the imposition of ashes on this day:

"Turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel."

I'm going forward into the springtime.




+peace, and all good!

not-so-Fat-Tuesday

OK. Mardi Gras. Fat Tuesday. I've never gotten into it, I admit. I'll wear Mardi Gras beads (purple - for Lent - or justice, gold - for Easter - or power, green - for Epiphany - or faith --- and I've heard one or two other explanations of these colors, too) if they're around, and today, I got really lucky - one of my awesome coworkers brought in a King's Cake! (Google it if you're not familiar!)

Side note, this evening I'm making hot cross buns to take to work tomorrow morning. Apparently, they're a Jesuit tradition for Ash Wednesday - and since I discovered the awesome book "The Secrets of Jesuit Breadmaking," I've been trying to follow some of the recipes in their associations with the liturgical year. It's a nice way to keep that connection to the sacred, even in my kitchen. (BTW - if you're interested in the book, check it out on Amazon - Catholic priests and brothers write some wicked good cookbooks - and this one is a true gem!) San Pasquale, pray for us!

But - getting back to the topic - no, I've never really gotten into the entire Fat Tuesday thing. Tonight, I had chicken and salad for dinner, and right now, I'm enjoying a nice glass of tempranillo - and that, folks, is about as exciting as it gets for Mardi Gras in my house. Maybe next year, I'll have a party. Oh, wait. Fat Tuesday is a TUESDAY. Meaning I'll have to go to work the next morning - which is - oh yeah, Ash Wednesday. Hmmm, nope. Maybe no Mardi Gras parties for me. 

Don't get me wrong, I think it would be fun to see Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but I've just never gotten in to the idea of indulging in utter excess the day before Lent begins. I mean, I already know I need to go to Confession, why make it worse? ;-)

So tonight, I've been sipping my tempranillo, waiting for the bread dough to rise, and listening to a mix of tunes I put together yesterday afternoon. U2 (of course - in the "City of Blinding Lights" I realize "I knew much more then, than I know now"), Adele, McCartney, Dave Matthews Band ("the space between the tears we cry, is the laughter that keeps us coming back for more"), Coldplay, Sting, even some Rascal Flatts (because after all the amazing things I've been blessed with, I'm so often reminded - it was "Nothing Like This" - it's constantly new and always changing). And thinking. Not necessarily in this order, but thinking: Thinking about the beautiful day today - over 50 degrees, blue skies, wouldn't have needed my jacket were it not for the slightly chilly wind this afternoon. Thinking about the sunset I watched while I was out running this afternoon. Thinking about work tomorrow. Thinking about the people I love. Thinking about Lent. Thinking about the beauty that happens in life every day, whether we recognize it or not, because God is God, and God is good - He does all things well. 

One more random thought, and then I'll call it a night for blogging purposes. If you're reading this, and you're a person of faith - have you ever had one of those little moments that took you completely by surprise and reminded you of the presence of God - and in my case, how grateful I am to be Catholic? I had one of those awesome moments on Saturday night, and I need to share! 

At the parish my husband and I attend, the sacrament of Baptism is celebrated during the Saturday evening Mass, on every 3rd Sunday of the month. Now - if you're Catholic - take a moment, and consider first of all, how beautiful it is to celebrate this sacrament in the presence of the entire community at Mass. So it adds a little time to Mass (less than 10 minutes, for those who are counting). Who cares? The more important thing is that the entire community is present to welcome the newly baptized into the Church. It's truly a beautiful thing, a wonderful way to share in the life of the Church - and it's something I have come to really look forward to every month. 

If you're Catholic, you may know that part of the sacrament of Baptism involves anointing with chrism oil. Those of us who were baptized as infants of course don't remember being baptized, or how amazing chrism oil smells. It's olive oil, but it's scented with balsam - unlike the other holy oils used for other anointing rituals in the Church - which gives it a wonderful, sweet, rather spicy scent. It's also used in the sacrament of Confirmation, and that's where my first memory of chrism oil finds its origin - although not from my own Confirmation, but from my mom's - she became Catholic when I was a child, and I will always remember the smell of the sacred chrism oil on her forehead that evening. Of course, I do have a very strong memory of the scent of the chrism I was anointed with at my Confirmation, eleven years ago this spring. It's one of those scents that you just don't want to go away, that you want to keep forever. One of those things I'll never forget. 

Well, this past weekend was the 3rd Sunday of the month, and as usual, there were baptisms at Mass on Saturday evening. I could just barely smell the chrism oil from where the hubs and I were sitting, and ah! What a wonderful reminder of the sacraments, of God's gifts to us. But it got better. After Mass, I said hello to Fr. Tim, and in the process, I touched his hands. A few minutes later, in the car, I realized I could smell chrism oil on my hands - there must have been some left on his hands from anointing the children who were baptized. Needless to say, THAT was cool. It was one of those "God moments," that reminded me how grateful I am to be Catholic, for everything that means. And moreover, it made me grateful to be part of a community that welcomes children into the Church in the presence of the... community.   

Time to make the icing for those hot cross buns - although I can attest to the fact that they're yummy even without it. ;-) Happy Mardi Gras, everyone!


+peace, and all good!

perfection? imperfection?

What makes something perfect to you?

Is it something that is technically flawless? Like a perfectly grown crystal, free of all inclusions? 

Or... is it something you find to be beautiful? A sunset, a painting, a photograph - the face of someone you love? 

Paradox? 

Think about it. In the debate about the existence of a Creator - what's one of the classic questions - "If God created the world, why didn't He create it perfect?" - this really further begs the question of why God would create a dynamic vs. a static world, which is a subject I'm not going to touch directly this evening - my point tonight is, "what makes something perfect?" 

Is our definition of perfection, also God's definition of perfection? 

When I think of perfection, yes, from a technical perspective, to some extent I do think of a perfectly grown crystal, free of inclusions. Or, a computer code for some kind of data simulation, free of errors, that runs flawlessly. Note: this does NOT happen if I'm the one writing the code! So, back to the perfect crystal! For those of you who haven't had the (mis)fortune of having crystal structures beaten into you at some point in school, think about a diamond. The most expensive, most sought after diamonds are those that would be considered to be, essentially, perfectly grown in nature. No inclusions - i.e., no dirt or other junk in the crystal - and colorless - i.e., no other atoms sneaked into the lattice of carbon to give the stone a hint of yellow or some other color. 

But, when I think of perfection, I also think of the amazing sunset I watched the other night, or the alpenglow on the Sandia mountains at sunset. Or the stunning moonrise I saw when I was out running the other night - it was so exquisite, I actually stopped running and sat down to watch it. 

I also think of the perfection God has offered me everyday in the people I am blessed to make this journey with - people who aren't "perfect" in the sense of flawlessness. They are people who don't necessarily believe the same things I do, people who don't think the same way I do, who didn't come from the same places, and haven't shared the same experiences. Nonetheless, they are people whose presence has blessed my life, changed my life, made a difference in it, made my world a better place to be. 

So what's perfection? And how does God relate to it? What would His idea of perfection be, if we could be wise enough to know? 

I certainly don't claim to know the mind of God or all His intentions, but when I think in terms of science, in terms of the created world - in terms of the world I believe He created - I see a view of perfection that runs against what many of us, and certainly what science, would traditionally consider perfect. 

What do I mean? Well, even the most flawless diamond is still just a metastable state on a carbon phase diagram. Look it up if you don't believe me. If you don't know what I'm talking about, a diamond is, very simply, a nice looking phase of carbon atoms arranged in a particular way that is metastable - meaning it is stable for an extended period of time at what we consider to be normal conditions, but it isn't stable indefinitely. Eventually, it'll just be another piece of graphite. Pencil lead. Sorry everyone, a diamond isn't forever. (And yes, I do wear a diamond wedding band. Fully aware of the irony, folks.) 

Anyways - yes, diamond is a metastable state. How many of us would consider a lump of graphite to be "perfect"? (Unless we were looking for a pencil... ?)

What about a ruby? Rubies are a beautiful example of technical imperfection. When a small number (~1% or less) of chromium atoms replace aluminum atoms in crystalline aluminum oxide, the colorless aluminum oxide transforms to brilliant red. Yeah. Chromium is basically a contaminant. Nothing perfect there. The same is true for sapphires (aluminum oxide again, though this time, the contaminant can be iron, titanium, or a few others, depending on the color of the sapphire). 

So if all of these things are created by God, and they're not some kind of cosmic accident, what does that say about God's view of perfection? I'd say it says that God finds perfection in His creation, period. He made it, and therefore, it is good - despite our contrived ideas about what makes something perfect. He could have created rubies a completely different way. He could have made the diamond part of the carbon phase diagram more than metastable. 

On the human end, He could have created us all the same - heh, being carbon-based life forms, kind of gives new meaning to the idea of a "carbon copy," doesn't it? But He didn't, because I believe God finds each of us to be perfect, in the sense that we are His perfect creation. Not that we all act perfectly, obviously we don't, because of original sin and so on and so forth... which brings us to free will, and an idea for another post at another time. 

Shouldn't this remind us again of the dignity of humanity, the beauty of human life? If God considers us to be His perfect creation, even with all our human flaws, how much more should we value human life, human dignity, and yes, each other?

Mmmhmmm, perfection. It's all around us.


+peace, and all good!

the beginning

At one time, now past, I would have written this blog with no intention of revealing myself - I would have taken the "neutral" perspective. I would've done my best to simply share thoughts, facts, perspectives - not as a scientist - not as a person of faith - as nothing other than an observer.

However, at this point, I see no reason to write from the perspective of a neutral observer. I am not one. I have vested interests in these topics of faith and science, and you may as well know that I do.

That said, it doesn't matter to me if you agree with my opinions on either, and I understand that some may embrace what I offer here, while others may reject it. That is your choice, and it is yours to make. All I ask is that you respect my words, as I will respect any words you offer in turn, whether I agree with them or not.

I am a Christian - a Catholic, to be precise. To establish some technical credibility, I am also a scientist, educated at the graduate level, and actively working in science and engineering. My specialty is applied spectroscopy (more on that in a later post), but my interests in science span chemistry, physics, and mathematics. Biology has never been at the top of my list of interests (unless it's biochemistry!), but I have studied biology previously, and I'm sure that, thanks to the theory of evolution, biology will inevitably enter the discussions here. I also find the philosophy and history of science to be quite fascinating.

If you look at my bookshelves, you'll find Feynman and Ratzinger, Sagan and Weigel, relativity and theology, quantum chemistry and biblical exegesis, all living in harmony together. Thus it has become in my life, as well, although it has not always been so.

I'm here to write about faith and religion (if you haven't given it much thought before, these are two VERY different things), science and reason, the history of all these good things, and how they come together in my mind... in addition to my own personal experiences with all of the above,  I'm here to write because, well, I need somewhere to write this all down, and journaling isn't that satisfying - and because I feel that these things should be shared. I am increasingly bothered by the lack of basic scientific literacy I see among those who don't deal with scientific concepts on a day-to-day basis, but who should have at least basic knowledge of these things as they bring to bear on daily life.

I am also increasingly bothered by the lack of basic theological literacy I see among those who don't deal with theological/religious concepts on a day-to-day basis, but again, who (in my opinion) should have at least basic knowledge of these things as they bring to bear on daily life.

I believe that in order to have a true dialogue between these two supposedly disparate areas, we must all have at least basic knowledge of concepts in both realms - irrespective of our own beliefs - so that we can, at minimum, develop a balanced perspective, and be able to respect one another even when we don't agree.

And I believe it's always a good thing to be a part of something bigger than us - to dialogue with those who think like we do - and those who don't think like we do. It's all part of learning to be a better human.

I hope you'll stick around for the journey. Peace and all good, friends.