The Theologian’s Nightmare
by Bertrand Russell
from Fact and Fiction, 1961
The eminent theologian Dr. Thaddeus dreamt that he died and pursued his course toward heaven. His studies had prepared him and he had no difficulty in finding the way. He knocked at the door of heaven, and was met with a closer scrutiny than he expected. “I ask admission,” he said, “because I was a good man and devoted my life to the glory of God.” “Man?” said the janitor, “What is that? And how could such a funny creature as you do anything to promote the glory of God?” Dr. Thaddeus was astonished. “You surely cannot be ignorant of man. You must be aware that man is the supreme work of the Creator.” “As to that,” said the janitor, “I am sorry to hurt your feelings, but what you’re saying is news to me. I doubt if anybody up here has ever heard of this thing you call ‘man.’ However, since you seem distressed, you shall have a chance of consulting our librarian.”
The librarian, a globular being with a thousand eyes and one mouth, bent some of his eyes upon Dr. Thaddeus. “What is this?” he asked the janitor. “This,” replied the janitor, “says that it is a member of a species called ‘man,’ which lives in a place called ‘Earth.’ It has some odd notion that the Creator takes a special interest in this place and this species. I thought perhaps you could enlighten it.” “Well,” said the librarian kindly to the theologian, “perhaps you can tall me where this place is that you call ‘Earth.’” “Oh,” said the theologian, “it’s part of the Solar System.” “And what is the Solar System?” asked the librarian. “Oh,” said the theologian, somewhat disconcerted, “my province was Sacred Knowledge, but the question that you are asking belongs to profane knowledge. However, I have learnt enough from my astronomical friends to be able to tell you that the Solar System is part of the Milky Way.” “And what is the Milky Way?” asked the librarian. “Oh, the Milky Way is one of the Galaxies, of which, I am told, there are some hundred million.” “Well, well,” said the librarian, “you could hardly expect me to remember one out of so many. But I do remember to have heard the word galaxy’ before. In fact, I believe that one of our sub-librarians specializes in galaxies. Let us send for him and see whether he can help.”
After no very long time, the galactic sub-librarian made his appearance. In shape, he was a dodecahedron. It was clear that at one time his surface had been bright, but the dust of the shelves had rendered him dim and opaque. The librarian explained to him that Dr. Thaddeus, in endeavoring to account for his origin, had mentioned galaxies, and it was hoped that information could be obtained from the galactic section of the library. “Well,” said the sub-librarian, “I suppose it might become possible in time, but as there are a hundred million galaxies, and each has a volume to itself, it takes some time to find any particular volume. Which is it that this odd molecule desires?” “It is the one called ‘The Milky Way,’” Dr. Thaddeus falteringly replied. “All right,” said the sub- librarian, “I will find it if I can.”
Some three weeks later, he returned, explaining that the extraordinarily efficient card index in the galactic section of the library had enabled him to locate the galaxy as number QX 321,762. “We have employed,” he said, “all the five thousand clerks in the galactic section on this search. Perhaps you would like to see the clerk who is specially concerned with the galaxy in question?” The clerk was sent for and turned out to be an octahedron with an eye in each face and a mouth in one of them. He was surprised and dazed to find himself in such a glittering region, away from the shadowy limbo of his shelves. Pulling himself together, he asked, rather shyly, “What is it you wish to know about my galaxy?” Dr. Thaddeus spoke up: “What I want is to know about the Solar System, a collection of heavenly bodies revolving about one of the stars in your galaxy. The star about which they revolve is called ‘the Sun.’” “Humph,” said the librarian of the Milky Way, “it was hard enough to hit upon the right galaxy, but to hit upon the right star in the galaxy is far more difficult. I know that there are about three hundred billion stars in the galaxy, but I have no knowledge, myself, that would distinguish one of them from another. I believe, however, that at one time a list of the whole three hundred billion was demanded by the Administration and that it is still stored in the basement. If you think it worth while, I will engage special labor from the Other Place to search for this particular star.”
It was agreed that, since the question had arisen and since Dr. Thaddeus was evidently suffering some distress, this might be the wisest course.
Several years later, a very weary and dispirited tetrahedron presented himself before the galactic sub-librarian. “I have,” he said, “at last discovered the particular star concerning which inquiries have been made, but I am quite at a loss to imagine why it has aroused any special interest. It closely resembles a great many other stars in the same galaxy. It is of average size and temperature, and is surrounded by very much smaller bodies called ‘planets.’ After minute investigation, I discovered that some, at least, of these planets have parasites, and I think that this thing which has been making inquiries must be one of them.”
At this point, Dr. Thaddeus burst out in a passionate and indignant lament: “Why, oh why, did the Creator conceal from us poor inhabitants of Earth that it was not we who prompted Him to create the Heavens? Throughout my long life, I have served Him diligently, believing that He would notice my service and reward me with Eternal Bliss. And now, it seems that He was not even aware that I existed. You tell me that I am an infinitesimal animalcule on a tiny body revolving round an insignificant member of a collection of three hundred billion stars, which is only one of many millions of such collections. I cannot bear it, and can no longer adore my Creator.” “Very well,” said the janitor, “then you can go to the Other Place.”
Here the theologian awoke. “The power of Satan over our sleeping imagination is terrifying,” he muttered.
One of the things I’ve been thinking about recently is the fact that the matter in our bodies is entirely made up of atoms that were forged in the inner depths of stars, eons ago. This isn’t something I had given much thought to. Its fascinating. Everything you own, everyone you know, are made of bits of stuff that were created inside far away stars ages ago.
A brief primer on the history behind this:
- The Big Bang happened.
- This produced Lithium, Helium and Hydrogen.
- Some of this Lithium, Helium and Hydrogen coalesced into stars.
- The very high pressures and resulting hot temperatures inside stars converted some of the lithium, helium and hydrogen into heavier elements in a process called nucleosynthesis. This is essentially what the old alchemists on our planet were trying to do, but as far as we know, this can only happen inside stars, because of the high pressure needed. Got any gold around? Take a look at it. As the core collapsed in a dying star, a gravity wave collapsed inward with it. In that moment, as a star died, that gold was formed.
- The stars spewed out these new elements into the universe (and continue to do so)
- Some of these elements formed planets and other bodies (and continue to do so)
Thats the story so far. Then, between four and five billion years ago, a new planet formed, orbiting a yellow dwarf star on the edge of the Orion arm of a spiral galaxy called the Milky Way. Earth.
The chemical and physical properties of Earth’s primitive environment were conducive to the origin of life. Elements combined to form more complex substances such as water, carbon dioxide, methane and hydrogen cyanide. These in turn formed key molecules such as sugars, amino acids and nucleotides. Such molecules are the building blocks of proteins and nucleic acids, compounds ubiquitous to all living organisms. Life began. A critical early triumph was the development of RNA and DNA molecules, which directed biological processes and preserved life’s “operating instructions” for future generations.
Most of life’s history on Earth has involved single celled micro-organisms. These gradually evolved into more complex cells, and about 550 million years ago, plants and animals familiar to us appeared. These too, evolved into the people and creatures we see around us today.
To give you a better idea of what exactly it is we’re made of, take a look at the elemental composition of the human body.
At some level, it seems counterintuitive to think that we’re made of star stuff. I mean, we do see the people, animals and plants around us growing all the time. To ‘get’ this,, its important to look at the really big picture. That, and as far as I can understand, remember that no new matter can be created, its just converted from one form to another.
In a way, we represent the Universe becoming conscious of itself.
Now, I don’t mean this in a Deepak Chopraesque, new-age, “we are one with nature” kind of way. I mean literally. We are particles of stardust that have attained consciousness, for a brief period. Dust to dust and all that. What does this mean for us? For humanity? I don’t know. Depends on your worldview, perhaps I’ll explore this question in another post someday. However, its nice to know. I like this creation story a lot better than the older, more established ones.
I’ll leave you with this poem titled “A Man said to the Universe”, by Stephen Crane.
A man said to the universe:
“Sir I exist!”
“However,” replied the universe,
“The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.”
____________________________________________
Notes:
- Elemental Composition of the Human Body from Wikipedia. Click here for the full article.
The photograph above was taken by Voyager 1 on February 14, 1990. As the spacecraft left our planetary neighborhood for the fringes of the solar system, engineers turned it around for one last look at its home planet. Voyager 1 was about 6.4 billion kilometers (4 billion miles) away, and approximately 32 degrees above the ecliptic plane, when it captured this portrait of our world. Caught in the center of scattered light rays (a result of taking the picture so close to the Sun), Earth appears as a pale blue dot, suspended in a sunbeam.
In a commencement address delivered in 1996, the astronomer Carl Sagan related his thoughts on the deeper meaning of the photograph:
Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there–on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.
Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.
It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.
Here are Sagan’s thoughts on our Pale Blue Dot, in his own words:
I wanted to write a blog post about astrology. But theres already a lot of material out there that talks about it taking the same approach and viewpoint that I would. So I’m just going to direct you to this website, which is a really good place to start: http://www.badastronomy.com/bad/misc/astrology.html
Oh, and to sum up what I would have written: Astrology doesn’t work. And in many cases actually causes harm.
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