And I answer, “It's not as simple as that. It's actually evidence of a narrow view when you speak of belief versus disbelief, or god versus no god. Things simply are not as black and white as you seem to think. Or perhaps you want the world to be black and white-good and evil-and all the other synonyms. It certainly would make things easier, wouldn't it? But things ultimately do not work that way. Sitting Bull knew this; Socrates knew this: two great wise men from wholly separate cultures-one a Lakota, one a Greek-each with his own religious and ethical views, but reaching for a similar truth.”
“I asked about you, not Sitting Bull or Socrates...”
“And I'm getting to that. I don't like to talk about myself; there are many other things that I find more interesting. But you asked, so I'm trying to give you an answer. My answer, not what is socially acceptable or politically correct. Sitting Bull and Socrates both learned that every man or woman must decide for himself/herself. They believed that different people with different beliefs could coexist if they tried; it was the opposing sides that cut them down.”
“Surely you don't see yourself as a modern-day Sitting Bull or Socrates?” you ask.
I laugh. “Hardly. I could never put myself in their class. I'm merely pointing out that prejudice over different opinions is nothing new. And because of the way I believe, or don't believe, as the case may be, I am something of an outcast.”
I take a long moment to pause and catch my breath, organize my thoughts. Long pauses are natural for Southerners, and I'm grateful that you respect me enough not to rush me. That kind of respect is hard to find for me.
Finally, I say, “All my life, religion has fascinated me. Not just one or one type of religion, but the concept. The need in many humans to believe in a higher order fascinates me. That's why I study it. But when I read religious works, including the Bible, I'm combing through clues to many mysteries, and I'm gaining insights to the minds of ancient peoples.”
“Do you have a direct answer?” you ask. It's a fair question, and one that I respect.
I sit looking out to the distant mountains that shadow my home, culling through that question, peeling back one layer after another, seeking the core to which I may direct a response.
“Yes and no.” That answer exasperates you somewhat, which is understandable. It seems that you underestimated how complicated I am. I wish I could be less complicated, but such was not in the cards for me. “It's not a simple matter of believing or not believing in God,” I say. “My higher order is nature itself-not merely the natural world around us, but the natural cosmos as a whole. I believe in possibilities. There could be a single, all-powerful intelligence behind the universe, but there could also be a group of intelligences behind it, perhaps working together, perhaps working independently or even in opposition to one another.”
“That implies that you also believe that the universe, and time itself, could be one long string of accidents.”
“Perhaps it does imply that,” I say; “but that's one possibility I don't believe in. I do believe that much of what has happened has done so spontaneously, like a painting that the artist allows to go where it will. But everything has a beginning. The initial parts that eventually add up to something have to come from somewhere. They say the universe came about by the Big Bang-at least that's the popular theory-but if the universe came about because of exploding matter...Where did that lump of matter come from?”
You look at me now with what seems to be a new respect. You, as a true Christian, don't agree, but you are open-minded enough not to judge. A rare commodity, where I come from.
“And evolution?” you finally ask.
I sigh. “I don't see what that fight is all about. Darwin believed in God. He was a good Christian. I had a biology teacher in high school that believed in evolution to the utmost, yet he believed that evolution was God's tool; that the creation stories were symbolic, for the ancient writers didn't understand evolution and they used what terminology they had.”
“You come from a Christian background, though,” you point out.
