I Do Believe in Miracles
Is there any rational reason to believe in miracles? The question is not about belief in miracles per se, but the reason behind belief. Lots of times the question of miracles involves the search for a rational explanation. If you find one, then bingo, you debunk the miracle and score another triumph for reason. Recently I experienced a miracle trifecta in New York City’s St. Patrick’s Cathedral: mass was being said at the central altar; to the left was a really impressive nearly life-size crèche complete with adoring camel; and to the right was a chapel dedicated to the appearance of Our Lady of Guadalupe to a Mexican peasant in 1531. Transubstantiation, incarnation and visitation – easily debunked miracles, right? Yet there I was all dewy-eyed and verklempt receiving communion, lighting a candle at the crèche, and joining the crowd adoring Our Lady of Guadalupe because it just happened to be her feast day (coincidence or miracle?!). Had I taken leave of my senses and given in to some emotional, romantic experience of the presence of God or had my reason come along for the ride?
The question of rational reasons to believe in miracles might seem to be off the table from the start as a contradiction in terms. Yet I do think that there is a very rational reason to believe in miracles, a reason rooted in the very mundane reality of this world. At Christmas, angels (another easily debunked miracle!) announced that the mundane reality of the world was about to change. They proclaimed that a Messiah had entered the world as a little child to bring peace on earth. Really, now?? That would be a reality shifter of volcanic magnitude! The reality of this world is definitely one of not-peace and the idea that it could be transformed by a child, well, that would be a miracle! I couldn’t agree more! What I’d like to propose is that the reality of not-peace is sustained by a powerful, totalizing logic which would take a miracle to disprove.
Here goes: the desire for peace on earth is nearly universal, yet peace has been an elusive dream. Why is that? There always seems to be one more obstacle to peace, one more evil villain who must be defeated before peace can reign on earth. The job of good people is to be vigilant against evil and, if possible, to learn to identify evil before it can do harm to innocent people. This is the current quest of our own Department of Homeland Security, FBI, CIA, Department of Defense and so on. The logic of good versus evil requires them to identify evil and destroy it by any means possible, all in the service of goodness and peace.
This logic is familiar to us and it permits the use of violence by good people in the name of peace. I have written about this many times before, so it will not be surprising when I point out that everyone who employs violence is doing so in the name of some ultimate good or another. Goodness is defined using me and my aims as the standard, of course, and evil is always located somewhere outside of me and my community. If goodness is always me-orientated, then anyone who opposes me, my goals or desires is by definition evil. Do you see how totalizing this is and how completely logical? If you begin with the premise that goodness equals me and evil is that which opposes me, then every “me” on the planet can self-identify as good and justify the destruction (figuratively or literally) of all the evil others out there who get in my way. We see it in domestic politics, international relations, and our own personal relationships when others seem to be willfully intent on obstructing our desires. They can be none other than evil by virtue of their opposition to the good – moi! This logic prevents us from seeing the truth that our enemies are using the same logic to define themselves as good and we as evil. All parties to a conflict use this logic to justify their use of violence so no one employing violence is self-identifying as evil. It is the good people, at least in their own opinion, who are doing all the bad things. Paradoxically yet logically, we find ourselves very busy creating a world of not-peace in the name of peace while never doubting our own goodness! A real predicament, isn’t it?
So what is the way out of this logical system? We could try to reason our way out, but ironically we have reasoned our way into it so successfully that any challenge to the system fits neatly into it: challenge my goodness or use violence against me and I have proof of your wickedness. Yet if I challenge your goodness or use violence against you, magically this is evidence of my commitment to the good. So anything that could crack open the logic at play here can’t come from within the system itself. A successful challenge would have to come from outside the system and appear other worldly, outside of our everyday experience – in other words, a miracle. A miracle that allows us to see ourselves in the face of our enemies and our enemies as children of God. The miracle can come to us in and through our mundane experiences: a birth, a meal, a message of love. When it comes, the logic of good and evil and of violence in the name of peace is revealed for a lie and peace becomes possible.
I believe in miracles because their existence challenges our reliance on logic and reason, which is an absolutely good thing given how much trouble logic can get us into. But miracles have a logic of their own, the logic of the possible impossible. In fact, the idea of a miracle might actually have some support from mathematics, the language of science. In the early twentieth century, the mathematician Kurt Godel discovered what he called the theorem of incompleteness which is the proof of a paradox, that there are true but unprovable statements. True but unprovable: maybe that’s what miracles are. You see, it was very reasonable for me to be verklempt at St. Pat’s and for all of us to be a bit dewy-eyed at the sight of the babe in the manger. Miracles make sense! Peace is possible! Merry Christmas!
Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, the Logic of Love, and My Inner Nerd
“It is logical. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one”
-Spock
I’ve been trained to ask a surprisingly complex question during the last few years: Where is God in this? The question is surprisingly complex because the answer is not always obvious.
Last week I went to visit my family in Portland, Oregon. When my brothers and I get together, we ususally watch a Star Trek or Star Wars movie. Yup. We’re nerds. And I love it.
On this visit I wanted to watch Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Although it is not their favorite Star Trek movie, my brothers politely obliged. Throughout the movie, they made playful, sarcastic comments Mystery Science Theater 3000 style about the Kobayashi Maru test, Ceti Eels (okay, those are gross), and Khan’s massive pecs, (I envy the pecs on that 60+ year old dude). This is the Sci-Fi nerdiness that I love.
But I also love The Wrath of Khan for its theology. I’m convinced that the director, Nicholas Meyer, knew what he was doing. So, as one of my brothers loaded the DVD, I asked the question nerdy theological question: “Where do you think God is in The Wrath of Khan?”
They referred to the Genesis Device – which could bring life to a lifeless planet. Creation and resurrection are indeed Godlike qualities. But the Genesis Device has a darkside that made us hesitate to say that this is where we find God in the movie. The Genesis Device can be used to destroy and manipulate planetary life.
So, where is God in the movie? First, because the word means different things to different people, I need to tell you what I mean by “God.” I mean Jesus. I mean the God who self-sacrifices for the needs of the many. And what did Jesus bring that we need? In part, he brought a transformation in our understanding of sacrifice.
As René Girard points out in his development of mimetic theory, human culture was built on the logic of violent sacrifice. Girard has a long explanation of this hominization process that you can read about in books like Violence and the Sacred and Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World, but it’s fairly intuitive. The logic of sacrifice works basically like this: If conflicts and rivalries arise among people, the mimetic (nonconscious) solution is to unite against a common enemy. This unfortunate person becomes our sacrificial victim, aka, our scapegoat. Even more unfortunate is that this scapegoating works to bring temporary peace to a community, but it never actually solves the problem. Soon, conflicts and rivalries arise again and sacrificial logic reasserts itself and a new scapegoat is needed to bring peace and unity.
Girard calls this archaic sacrifice. Don’t let the word archaic fool you: Girard asserts that we are still infected by archaic sacrifice. We still know that finding a common enemy is the easiest way to find unity. But the Judeo-Christian message challenges archaic sacrifice with another form of sacrifice. Instead of sacrificing another, we find the Judeo-Christian alternative of self-sacrifice. It is a form of sacrifice that has its own logic, but it is a logic that counters the logic of archaic sacrifice. For example, when two prostitutes ask Solomon to settle their rivalry over a child, the real mother sacrifices her desire for the child so the child may live. The prophet Isaiah writes about the Suffering Servant who sacrifices himself for the needs of the many. And, of course, there is Jesus, who for Christians concretely reveals the true character of God precisely in this self-sacrificial love. Jesus' logic of sacrificial love is summed up in John 15:13, "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends."
If you have seen the movies, you know that Spock is not a perfect Christ figure. But when he sacrifices himself in order to save his friends, he does something truly amazing and “Christlike.” Spock had choices. He could have used archaic logic to unite the crew in sacrificing someone else, but instead he used the Judeo-Christian logic of self-sacrifice. When I see Spock perform this sacrifice, I think of the prostitute and her child, the prophet Isaiah, and Jesus.
As the movie ends, Amazing Grace begins to play. Indeed, as the director, Meyer had to have known what he was doing. For ‘tis amazing grace that leads us to the self-sacrificing love of God.
And, to further my sci-fi/theological nerdiness, in Star Trek III Spock is resurrected back to life!
Self-sacrifice and resurrection. Judeo-Christian themes are all over Star Trek, and my inner sci-fi theological nerd is all kinds of giddy.