"Go to the [salmon], you lazybones"

The article by Ron Osborn in Adventist Spectrum started off:

There is a great theological dilemma with theistic evolution that biblical literalists have been quick to cite as reason why the true fideles must embrace young earth creationism. This dilemma is the problem of theodicy, or defending God’s character in the face of evil. How could a loving God use as his method of creation a mechanism as cruel as natural selection, which requires massive amounts of suffering, predation and death?

The theocons on the site were wrapping their knickers in knots over this one. When their premise revolves around the total incompatibility of science and religion, it is impossible to defend . . . and still claim to be rational about it.

But.

"Go to the [salmon], you lazybones; consider its ways, and be wise." Proverbs 6:6

For most of my life, I rooted for the bear.

Dumb, stupid salmon.

Being spawned way up in the headwaters of crystal cold creeks, swimming for miles on end to the dirty, old, salty sea. Wallowing around there for a few years. Swimming against horrific odds . . . natural and manmade . . . back to that crystal cold headwaters of a little mountain creek. And horrors! Just to do "it." That embarrassingly nasty act called "it." And then die. What a stupid waste. Goody for the bears . . . just slap'm and grab'm and feast'm. Anything as dumb as a salmon has it coming.

And such as I saw how things were supposed to be.

The "predator" is the winner in the end . . . the one with the fullest belly.

Somewhere, somehow, I was hit by an epiphany.

Maybe Mother Nature knows what she is doing after all. And it is not wise to fool, or ignore, Mother Nature.

That crystal clear little stream, high up in the mountains, obeys the law of Gravity. Ancillary to that obedience is the ability to collect run-off from the surrounding hills . . . run-off rich with leached nutrients. And those nutrients are hustled to the deep blue sea.

To the casual observer, it is a one-way trip. A net loss. Too bad, old baldy mountain top. Just what you deserve for being at the pinnacle of things. There would seem to be a poetic justice, a moral lesson of sorts. Perhaps.

But those big old fat, sex-driven salmon, hell-bent on hanky-panky if it is the last thing they do . . . head back up the downward flow of nutrition. To engage in "it."

And even before some of those salmon can spawn, and start that cycle all over again, the bear slaps a driven salmon, shredding it with razor sharp claws, ripping it apart with razor sharp teeth. And the predator devours its prey. Over and over again.

And with belly full, wanders away from the creek bank.

And poops.

And replenishes the soil with nutrients . . . nutrients washed away. Harvested by salmon in that big old deep blue sea. Carried back as their very being. Metric tons of nutrient-rich biomass. And in their death, bring life again to plants and animals high up in a nutrient starved ecosystem.

Perhaps "predatory" is just a "perception." Nothing more than just a point of view.

"Go to the [salmon], you lazybones; consider its ways, and be wise."

Maybe the salmon is totally opposed to science. Yes, it is "in-salmon" to be devoured by the cruelty of claw and fang. There is no justice. Something truly evil is working against salmon. It would seem the deity of salmon must be incompetent, incapable, impotent. The notion of spirituality is fraught with unanswerable questions. A saving must draw nigh.

Maybe the salmon sees itself in a parallel system. Yes, there is still the devouring by fang and claw. Evil is. But there is transcendent experience to it all as well. A meaning. A purpose. But in no way, can the separation demanded by parallelism ever intersect the harsh reality of certain death with salmon immortality.

Maybe the salmon, after eons of this seemingly endless cycle, come to a dialog, a dynamic interplay, learning from the science, yet evolving new understandings of the scientifically informed religious perspective. A comprehension that Mother Nature knows what she is doing.

"Go to the [bear], you lazybones; consider its ways, and be wise."

Maybe the bear is totally opposed to science. The fang and claw are the gifts of the gods. But that damn dam down river interrupts my dinner. Something truly evil is working against the bear. And the huckleberries were not as plentiful this year. The deity of the bear is incompetent, incapable, impotent. A saving must draw nigh.

Maybe the bear sees itself in a parallel system. Yes, there is no salmon today. Evil happens. But the bear understands. The empty belly is one thing. But there is still a purpose. A meaning. And with bare-faced banality, hunkers on. Next year. Perhaps. The salvation will draw nigh.

Maybe the bear, after eons of this seemingly endless cycle, comes to a dialog. To a dynamic interplay. Astute enough to learn. From science. To react, to evolve as it were, to a new reality. To a new understanding of purpose.

Of a scientifically informed religious perspective.

That:

1. Salmon, that bears, that human beings are all an integral part of nature.

2. Humankind's responsibility is to preserve and sustain the natural world.

3. The religion of the future will be a scientific story with mythic dimension and significance.

4. That both reason and reverence will prevail.

5. Affirm the values that help to make our lives more fully human . . . transforming from a shallow life of fear, greed, hedonism, and materialism to a meaningful life of love and caring, gratitude and generosity, fairness and equity, joy and hope, and a profound respect for others.

"Go to the [predator], you lazybones; consider its ways, and be wise."

For in the gift that we know as the cycle of life, the predator is but only a perspective.

The Refectory Manager