Musings

The Theological Implications of the WooDyne Orbiting Teapot

 

“If I were to suggest that between the Earth and Mars there is a china teapot revolving about the sun in an elliptical orbit, nobody would be able to disprove my assertion provided I were careful to add that the teapot is too small to be revealed even by our most powerful telescopes. But if I were to go on to say that, since my assertion cannot be disproved, it is an intolerable presumption on the part of human reason to doubt it, I should rightly be thought to be talking nonsense. If, however, the existence of such a teapot were affirmed in ancient books, taught as the sacred truth every Sunday, and instilled into the minds of children at school, hesitation to believe in its existence would become a mark of eccentricity and entitle the doubter to the attentions of the psychiatrist in an enlightened age or of the Inquisitor in an earlier time.” Bertrand Russell, 1952

My young artist friend in Portland, Oregon, Zack Dougherty, proposes to one-up the venerable British philosopher's argument by putting the teapot onto a rocket and sending it into outer space.  He intends to set up a Kickstarter campaign to fund the launch in the name of WooDyne Aerospace Corporation.  (Get in on the ground floor of this blue-sky project - email Zack for details.) 

If the existence of God is an assertion that cannot be disproved, Russell argued, that hardly proves that God exists.  If a teapot in space is an assertion that cannot be disproved, that hardly proves that it exists.  But if we look at a teapot satellite being launched into space, we have the empirical evidence that we need to affirm its existence.  And if we look into space, recognizing its totality as one and the same with God, a disproof of God's nonexistence becomes pointless.

When I was candidating for ordination in the United Church of Christ in 1980, two of the five members of the examining committee voted against me.  They concluded I was out of doctrinal bounds for expressing my beliefs that God and the universe are one and that the resurrection of the Christ was mythological.  At the time, I agreed with them.  I thought of myself as an unorthodox Christian.  But through deeper study over the decades, I've concluded otherwise.  If I was conversing with that committee today, I would quote the mystics of the church over the last 2,000 years who were able to express beliefs like mine in the language of orthodoxy.  I have discovered that there is almost nothing new about my home-grown theology.  Bishop Nicolas of Cusa in the 15th century called God "Posse-Est" - "Can-Is" - the essence of reality itself.  In the 14th century, Konrad of Megenburg, a German scholar and priest, expressed the idea that God could be known equally well through the "book of Nature" and the "book of Scripture".  Origen, the third century theologian, wrote that if a scripture passage contradicted common sense, it should be understood allegorically, not literally.  Were I to be examined today by that same ordination committee, might all five members vote in my favor?  (I'm pretty sure that at least one or two members of the committee voted in my favor simply because I was working for a large, wealthy church that might have reduced its pledge to the denomination had they not approved me.  But I don't feel too badly about that fudge, because there is historical precedent for it.  Bishop Cusa's edgy theology might well have brought him before the Inquisition had he not been the Pope's political point-man in Germany at the time.) 

I hope that the WooDyne Teapot Satellite makes it into space, in order to stimulate a public conversation about the natural nature of God.  As Russell's teapot moves from the invisible to the visible, so may our concept of God move from empirically-unsupportable supernaturalism to the undeniable reality of reality itself. 

If Zack gets his way, someday we'll be able to gaze into the heavens and know for certain that out there is a teapot, whirling in orbit around the sun.  It will be a tiny white speck, too small to see, but big enough to imagine - inspiring us to holy awe at the divinity of the universe.  

 

JIM BURKLO

Website: MINDFULCHRISTIANITY.ORG   Weblog: MUSINGS    Follow me on twitter: @jtburklo

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Associate Dean of Religious Life, University of Southern California

A Trail of Thorns

 

They walk north.  We walked south.

 

Each spring break, I lead a group of University of Southern California students down to "baja Arizona" for a week to experience the humanitarian realities along the US side of the border with Mexico.  We meet with progressive Christian activists - many of whom have been working for decades to prevent migrant deaths, assist migrants with practical help and legal representation, and advocate for legislative and administrative reform of our broken US immigration system. 

 

This past week, eleven of us stayed at Good Shepherd United Church of Christ in Sahuarita, AZ - a local hub of border justice and humanitarian activism.  On Tuesday, we went with the Tucson Samaritan Patrol on a hike up Wilbur Canyon near Arivaca, AZ, to place jugs of water on a migrant trail.  For many years, this group and a similar one sponsored by Good Shepherd Church have been doing "water drops" on the trails in order to prevent migrants from dying of thirst.  The number of people crossing has dropped dramatically in recent years, and especially since the presidential election.  But we found evidence of very recent migrant crossings: clean-looking backpacks, "carpet slippers" that are tied over shoes in order to hide tracks from "la migra", freshly-emptied tins of Mexican sardines.  By the time they get to where we hiked, twelve miles into the US, migrants become exhausted and endangered.  They begin to shed their belongings to lighten their loads as they move farther north.  We were only a mile up the trail when one of our students bumped a water jug into a mesquite branch.  Like so much of what grows in the Sonoran Desert, mesquite branches are studded with sharp spines.  A spine broke off, poking into her jug, and the water began to pour out.  Another example of the many dangers that face the migrants as they move north.

 

At the "water drop" site, my students were very disturbed to discover water jugs, previously placed on the trail by the Samaritans, sliced with knives and emptied.  Who did it?  We don't know.  While "la migra" - Border Patrol officers - are trained not to do such acts of vandalism, they've been known on occasion to destroy the food and water left by the Samaritans.  The anti-immigrant volunteer "militias" that faded away several years ago are now resurgent.  "Who could do such a thing?" one of the students asked me, incredulous.  

 

"People are afraid," said John Rueb, member of Good Samaritan Church and an organic garlic farmer in the borderlands. "So they lock their doors and stay vigilant and call the Border Patrol whenever they see folks they think are suspicious. But we never lock our doors.  We welcome migrants who pass through our farm. They are always polite and appreciative.  We give them water and some sandwiches and wish them well on their way.  We aren't afraid."  John hosted us at his farm for a chat with our group about what life is like for the people who live year-round so close to the Mexican border.  It is a militarized zone where officers can enter one's land without a warrant, where US citizens must stop at a checkpoint and be scrutinized whenever they venture north.  "It's almost like another country down here," said one of our students.  

 

Nothing better negates the idea of spending tens of billions of dollars on longer border walls and more Border Patrol officers than gazing out to the east from Lochiel, AZ.  It's a cluster of a few houses at the end of a 25-mile-long dirt road.  We went there with long-time border justice activist Father Ricardo Elford, one of the early leaders of the Sanctuary Movement in the 1980's.  Not a soul was in sight for twenty miles in the line of sight along the current porous border fence.  If you doubled the number of "migra" officers overall, you might see one Border Patrol truck in that vast glorious expanse of golden grass, dark mesquite trees, and rugged mountains.  A fence crossing that now would take seconds might take minutes over a big wall.  But once over the border line, there is that 25 mile stretch of very rugged desert to cross on foot, just to get to the lonesome little Arizona town of Patagonia, well-patrolled by "la migra".  We already have a wall on the border, and it is called the Sonoran Desert.  If it's just for economic reasons, it is hardly worth one's life to make a crossing that is more dangerous and daunting than ever.  But when your life is your family "en el otro lado" - on the other side of the border - you might well take the chance.  

 

A Tweeter's Digest of fear drives the dominant discourse about immigration in America.  And the cure for this fear propaganda is love.  The same divine power that propels people under fences, over walls, and through forbidding deserts can move citizens to press for saner, more humane policies at our border.  Progressive Christians are living that love in southern Arizona every day.  Let's take the trail farther north, and spread the love deeper into America.

 

 

Lochiel, AZ, at the US/Mexico border, looking east