” WHY ARE WE HERE ? “

Post No. 1435

MY COMMENT :

The existential, eternal question. Our scientist-poet, RON VERNON, has offered us – privileged, unique readers – his reflections to stimulate our own.

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” Why are we here ? and “What are we ?” : these questions are eternal. We humans always feel we have a reason to be here, And that we are directed by an agency external, In charge of all our existential sphere.

I know that I am an animal, a mammal called a ‘human’, Essentially a witless ordered aggregate of cells. My brain has the potential to enlighten and illumine And generate an ego hard to quell.

My cells combine in organs and in tissues well connected. My body parts all function with a mighty brain in charge, Supported by a skeleton and by a skin protected, enabling their duties to discharge.

Although I may regard myself as something rather special, My DNA is much the same as tigers’ and gazelles’. My body is essentially a cell-protecting vessel : An edifice that’s built of organelles.

My organelles, dispersed in cytoplasm of my cells, Are strange bacterial relics Evolution left behind, Controlling body function, as their chemistry impels. Each makes the contribution it’s assigned.

My cells perform their functions with nobody in command. They send their separate signals, all unaware of me, In complex interactions that don’t need a guiding hand, Entangled in a complex filigree.

Despite genetic kinship, we maintain that we’re distinct From ‘lower animals’ we call ‘domestic’, ‘farm’ and ‘game’, And if we say they have no souls and act upon their instinct, Then who’s to say that we are not the same ?

So why do we animals adorn this watery realm ? Does life require a reason for the way it’s constituted ? Supposing it just happened, no designer at the helm : Dead chemicals to living cells transmuted.

Perhaps a germ of Life came in a wayward asteroid, Or from some celestial body, many years ago deceased. Perhaps another planet was impacted in the void, Exploding, with its particles released.

And when we ask why we are here, some say we were created, In seven normal days by God, establishing the norms, But fossills show that life evolved and over time migrated From simple cells to much more complex forms.

So many people say that human life must have a meaning, And that without it life would be a dark and cold abyss. The truth is that because there is no god for intervening, The only meaning is that ‘Life just is’.

The onwly task our genes demand is simple procreation, And after then our bodies start to wither and decay. No matter how we struggle to delay our expiration, Our genes don’t care; we’ve simply had our day.

So do we need to waste our time in idle speculation About our primal birthing or the reason we are here ? Let’s all enjoy our time on Earth in mutual celebration, And face our fate with courage and good cheer.

RIDENDA RELIGIO

” NIGHT AND DAY , YOU ARE THE ONE ! “

Post No. 1434. My Book pp. 171-172.

MY COMMENT :

Some people people spend a whole night in Montmartre, but not for the reasons you imagine.

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If a Perpetual Novena is an oxymoronic mathematical conundrum, as well as an immense waste of believers’ time, Perpetual Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament is even more difficult to fathom. Montmartre in Paris is known not only for its Moulin Rouge, sex-shops and tacky boulevard, but literally above all (!), for the Sacred Heart basilica which dominates the City of Light. All day, every day, all night and every night, a chain of volunteer worshippers keeps up an endless vigil before the Sacred Host exposed in a glittering monstrance. It’s been going on for decades, and will presumably continue until the distant, but, to some, inevitable, day when the basilica becomes a mosque. (But that’s another story, if not another Reflection).

They come from Paris, the city and the suburbs, from Versailles and beyond. They are the antithesis of so many of their Catholic compatriots, “croyants mais non-pratiquants”, people who (say they) believe but do not practise their faith. These are the totally committed, the elite, the militant vanguard of the faithful. They do not spend hours on their knees contemplating the Real Presence, praying for the sick, the lonely, the victims of poverty and war and injustice, as well as for . . . unbelievers, to score brownie-points from God or the admiration of less fervent Catholics. They are totally sincere, totally selfless and totally . . . blind to the folly of it all.

But at least this sort of faith is harmless. They are not brainwashing anyone, not threatening, not harming, not terrorizing anyone. They are probably good people, as generous with their treasure (if any) as they are with the time they spend at their prie-dieu.

They will not be readers of this book. If they were, they would be scandalized but totally unshaken in their convictions, and even more motivated to pray for its author. I can understand them. I myself once spent long hours adoring the Blessed Sacrament. But for the grace of the theological tremors of the sixties and seventies, I would not have discovered the questions that led to my liberation. I just hope that one day – or one night – these perpetual adorers ask themselves whether that really is the Son of God up there in the monstrance, looking for all the world like a circular white wafer made from flour and water.

RIDENDA RELIGIO

” I THINK THAT I SHALL NEVER SEE . . . “

Post No. 1433. My Book : pp. 170-171.

MY COMMENT :

” . . . a poem lovely as a tree”. But here in France we have trees that are more than trees.

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I have known Australian and American tourists who come to France for just three reasons : to see the Eiffel Tower, to visit Mont St Michel, and, above all, to “do” Lourdes. Tourism is France’s top industry, and these three sites are a large part of the reason.

The French themselves frequent the town and the “miraculous” spring made famous by Saint Bernadette. But we have many other places of pilgrimage. You have never heard of them because they are . . . trees. Yes, trees.

On the coast of Brittany in western France, there is a village called Landelau, with just one thousand inhabitants and, until recently (time of writing), an oak tree, the bark of which was venerated in a Pentecost procession because of its power to protect against sickness and fires, assure students success in their exams, and bring luck to believers who put a bit of it in their purse or wallet to win the Loto or Euromillions. The day before Hallowe’en last year the tree collapsed, victim of a parasitic mushroom. Devotees are planning to transfer their devotion to another tree just a few meters away.

In La Haye-de-Routot (Eure), there is a 1600 year-old yew, sixteen meters high, with a circumference of nine meters, the trunk of which has housed, for over a century, an altar and statue of . . . Our Lady of Lourdes. But there are more picturesque trees which are objects of popular devotion. One is in Hasnon, near the northern city of Lille. It is covered with pieces of clothing belonging to the sick – socks, shirts, even brassieres ! On an oak tree on the West coast the apparel has been replaced by nails which had been placed on patients’ infections and then hammered into its trunk by pilgrims, who walk around the tree seven times (like forty, a biblical number . . .)

In Aix-en-Provence, there is an olive tree against which young ladies rub their backside. Seems this helps in finding a husband. . . hopefully without collecting splinters in the process. (For all of the above, cf. “Science et Avenir”, August, 2007).

Call it superstition if you like. But tell me what differentiates all this from the practices and beliefs of established religions.

RIDENDA RELIGIO

” CRAZEOLOGY “

Post No. 1432. My Book p. 170.

MY COMMENT :

The Harry Potter corpus has delighted both chlldren and adults and made a hidden, magical world almost credible.

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Only unconditional fans of Charlie Parker would recognize the title as that of one of his magnificent saxo solos. The neologism is at least as original as that of Michel Onfray’s “Atheology”. There is, of course, no connection, but there are a lot of crazy beliefs out there. People who share and defend them are not necessarily crazy themselves, but their ideas are. To the Pentecostal snake-handlers who owe their origin in Tennessee in 1909 to former bootlegger George Went Hensley (who died in 1955 from . . . a snake-bite), and devotees of the Sacred Foreskin and the Holy Saliva and miraculous medals, fountains and phials of blood, we can now add the lunatic fringe of the Potterites, adults tempted to take the seven-volume product of J.K. Rowling’s creative genius as Gospel truth. What was meant as good fun for kids (of all ages, including – time of writing – septuagenarians like me) could soon be transformed into a belief system, complete with its liturgy and loonies.

Modern Druidic, and venerable Masonic, rituals are crazy enough. But Harry Potter adepts may leave them far behind. The symposium “Lumos 2006” in Las Vegas attracted no less than 1200 paying participants, to hear learned University professors analyze the arcana of the Potter corpus. Certain participants (85% women) dressed for the occasion. Las Vegas took on air of Hogwarts. Can a cult, a religion, be far behind ? Crazeology, indeed.

RIDENDA RELIGIO

” NO MORE SUPERSTITIONS ? “

Post No. 1431 : Guest-Post by RON VERNON

MY COMMENT :

Ron has offered to enrich (my word) my (transcribed) reflections on “Superstitions and Fetishes” (chapter 12 of my book) with his latest, brilliant verse. It’s an offer I can’t refuse.

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“We tend to think today that we are very much enlightened, No longer stalked by gremlins and the ghosts that kept us frightened. But evidence around us shows that we are quite mistaken, Our confidence in rational thought considerably shaken.

In women’s magazines, as well as ad-breaks on TV, The clairvoyants and tarot queens all lie quite openly; Their cunning verbal probing helps them trap you while you’re grieving. Yet many folks attend them, for the comfort of believing.

There is a thriving business in the field of crystal healing, Those sparkling jewels and gemstones are so visually appealing. But they are lifeless, passive, and devoid of animation. You cannot just empower them by simple declaration.

Some ancient superstitions are embedded in our psyche, Like hapless number thirteen, on a Friday specially spicy, With nonsenses like Halloween and warnings even madder. Don’t step upon a pavement crack or walk beneath a ladder.

Then there’s the master superstition we all call religion, That influences much of life, from wars to circumcision . So many people need it, as it helps them quell anxiety, Explaining why some god is always plied with human piety.

So what is left for atheists, who abhor self-delusion ? No ghosts or ghouls or vaporous shades or virginal illusions, No comfort of an after-life, but no fear of one either. I simply must be strong enough to stay an unbeliever.”

RIDENDA RELIGIO

” HOLY SALIVA !! “

Post No. 1430. My Book pp. 169 -170.

MY COMMENT :

Here’s another hard-to-believe post. It would seem there are no limits to religious credulity.

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After the cult of the Sacred Foreskin, we come to that of Jesus’ saliva. Mind you, once you are into relics, splinters of the True Cross, liters of Mary’s milk, crown(s) of thorns, the head of John the Baptist at age 12, and the other, after his beheading, why not exploit the market with . . . whatever ? How come nobody has yet come up with the cult of Jesus’ sacred toe-nail clippings ?

In the meantime there really is a Pentecostal church in Brazil which calls itself “The Church of the Saliva of Christ”.

RIDENDA RELIGIO

RON VERNON QUESTIONS WHETHER WE HAVE FREE WILL

Post No. 1429

MY COMMENT :

Ron has written another piece of verse, much longer than his previous poems. For technical reasons ( I cannot separate the stanzas) our mutual friend Thom has included it in the comment he will make. Ron’s poem has raised the title’s question, debated by neuroscientists, which has vast implications, including deciding to believe or refusing to believe in God. What do you think of his opinion ?

THE SACRED FORESKIN

Post No. 1428. My Book p. 169

MY COMMENT

Religious vows of chastity and the vow of clerical celibacy sometimes create extraordinary illusions.

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Saint Catherine of Sienna received this precious part of the private parts of Jesus as a token of her marriage with the Messiah, and found that when placed on the tongue (where else ?), the result was orgasm. In the Middle Ages at least fourteen churches in Europe boasted of having a gramme or two of this christic flesh. In the 17th century an Italian theologian, Leone Allici, believed that the sacred foreskin ascended into Heaven, explaining why there are rings around Saturn.

RIDENDA RELIGIO

WHEN ALL IS SAID AND DONE, READING RON IS GREAT FUN

Post No. 1427

MY COMMENT :

Once again, I am proud to publish a poetic pearl from Professor Ron Vernon : short and concise, pithy and brief, as straight to the point as can be.

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“O what joy old age imparts,

Come join our band of ancient farts.

Enjoy your old age, gentlemen;

It will not come your way again.

Why bother wondering when you will die ?

It’s sure to happen bye and bye;

Don’t waste your moments doing sums,

Just take your life the way it comes.

Fate alone will sound the knell,

What will happen who can tell ?

That’s how it comes and how it goes,

And don’t forget to smell the rose.”

ANYONE FOR RELICS ?

Post No. 1426. My Book pp. 168-169.

MY COMMENT :

The apex of Catholic credulity ? Try not to throw up when you read what St Bonaventure did with, and said about, the preserved tongue (yuck !) of his deceased confrere, St Anthony of Padua.

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You thought that Martin Luther had put them to rest in 1517, along with indulgences and the celibacy of the clergy ? Think again. Relics are alive and well in Catholic superstition. Supposed relics are set into the altar on which the priest celebrates Mass. Witness the advertising blurb for the magazine, “Messenger of St Anthony”. For a mere $A 40 (minimum) “donation”, you can get eleven issues of the magazine that will “bring the light of St Anthony into (your) family’s life”, plus – “at no additional charge” – the St Anthony’s Calendar, as well as your “personal medallion containing a relic of St Anthony”. The blurb reveals – truth in advertising – that the medallion you will receive contains a piece of “cloth set in the back of the medallion” which “has been blessed through physical contact with St Anthony’s tongue (re-yuck !) at his basilica in Padua”.

“When the vault in which for thirty years the Saint’s sacred body had reposed was opened, the flesh was found reduced to dust but the tongue uninjured, fresh and of a lively color. St Bonaventure, beholding this wonder, took the tongue affectionately in his hands and kissed it” (c’mon, you’re kidding us !), “exclaiming : “O Blessed Tongue that always praised the Lord, and made others bless Him, now it is evident what great merit thou hast before God” (Catholic Encyclopedia).

As Leonardo da Vinci may or may not have said, “Many have made a trade of delusions and false miracles, deceiving the stupid multitude” (see Dan Brown – himself a gifted manipulator of truths, half-truths and legends – “The Da Vinci Code”, Doubleday, N.Y., 2004, p. 250).

RIDENDA RELIGIO