The Call: Chapter 4

Several brothers and sisters in our Kairos group have decided to read and discuss Os Guinness' The Call. Derek has suggested that we do some journalling based upon our readings, and I thought I might do so here, both because I can type faster than I write, and because, if the journalling is to be somewhat public, then this is a good venue for it.

I thought it interesting that this chapter echos one of the themes I touched on below, that God is a Namer and consequently so are we. God's naming is a type of calling into being;

Thus in the first chapter of Genesis, God called the light "Day" and the darkness he called "Night". This type of calling is far more than labeling...such decisive, creative naming is a form of making. Thus when God called Israel, he named and thereby constituted and created Israel his people. Call is not only a matter of being and doing what we are but also of becoming what we are not yet but are called by God to be. Thus "naming-calling"...is the fusion of being and becoming.

When God calls each of us into being, he calls into being our entire story, our entire life, which according to Ps 139 he sees in its entirety before there is yet one day of it. In this sense, His "call" comes to us simultaneously with our creation, and is always "there" before God. His call is what He has created us to be, and from His perspective does not change, and will certainly be accomplished.

From our perspective, living in these sequential dimensions of time and space, it may appear to us that our "call" changes. I have spent thirty years training to become and then practicing as a physician, and have no doubt that that was my true calling, for those years. It is not clear to me that, for the rest of my life, I am to continue to function primarily as a physician. Perhaps, when God called me forth, he saw me practicing medicine for thirty years and then teaching for twenty.

In this chapter, Guinness elaborates some on what he calls the "Catholic Distortion" of calling. This is the two-tier, higher-lower, sacred-secular, perfect-permitted dualism that sees the life of spiritual contemplation as the highest or most perfect calling, and the life of action in the world as merely permitted and second-grade. He notes that this dualistic view was present at least as early as Eusebius, and is found in Augustine and Aquinas. Luther seems to have rejected it, teaching that "all works are measured before God by faith alone."

While I agree that, so stated, this is a distortion, and one that is very prevalent today, I am always troubled by the ease with which nearly everything that is wrong with the Church can be attributed to some sort of "dualism". Any overemphasis of one end of any concept that exists in a continuum can be critiqued by positing a "dualism" that opposes one extreme to the other in an obvious manner, demonstrating that either extreme, taken alone, is wrong, and therefore that the only things to do are to either affirm the whole continuum equally or to collapse it.

In this section, we seem to be heading toward the idea that no calling is higher than any other. I'm not sure I can agree with that. Perhaps the "higher-lower" dimension runs along a different line than the sacred-secular dimension, but I have no problem acknowledging that Mother Theresa (to take an extreme example) had a higher calling than I, not because her vocation was spiritual and mine secular, but perhaps because hers required a much deeper attained sanctification than mine does. Likewise I honor as doing a higher work than myself those physicians who forego safety, honour and riches to practice among the devastated peoples of Africa or Haiti. I am struck by Paul's noting in Romans that God is free to create some vessels for honour and some for dishonour and destruction, and that suggests to me that He might also create some vessels for particularly high honor and some for less honor.

I think I like Luther's formulation, at least as it appears in this chapter: what matters is the faith with which one's activities are pursued. The value judgement of higher or lower does not attach to the job description itself, but to the person's relationship to God in the doing of it. This is what renders the work straw or stubble or silver or gold, of passing or eternal significance.

The Great Good Place

Derek Melleby, always concerned to improve my mind, has given me Ray Oldenburg's book, The Great Good Place about so-called "third places" like pubs, cafe's, coffeeshops and barbershops (think Jayber Crow or Malcolm X). I've just begun reading, but it already has me thinking, again, about creating such a place myself. My wife and I own a small house about a quarter mile from our home, at a country crossroads which is in the midst of yet more suburban development, which has attached to it a 1500 square foot building previously operated as a country store. Right now, the house is an income property and the store is used as a shop for renovating the house, and as furniture storage (we rent the house furnished.) It is in walking distance of perhaps a hundred homes, but otherwise not on the way to anything, hence is not an ideal commercial property. For about 80 years it was operated as a store by the family that lived in the house, and the son of that family, now in his 80's himself, operates a small barbershop in one corner of it to this day.

I'm interested in determining what features my readers would consider attractive enough to actually warrant their incorporating into their daily lives some visits to such a place, to meet friends and neighbors. Tomorrow, I plan to create a little five-question interview like the "Books" interview, and answer it myself, then "tag" some others to answer it. Think about it: What kind of place would you actually go to once or thrice a week, spontaneously, on the way home from work or after dinner or on the weekend, to hang out with friends and meet neighbors? What would it take to interest you in such a public, informal place?

Still the best TV ads in a while...

First seen during Superbowl 2005.

Words

During our recent visit to San Francisco, my wife and I visited a café and boulangerie in Japan Town each morning for coffee, tea and pastries. One morning a young man with his two- or three-year old son sat at a table near ours, and the little boy kept up a steady stream of age-appropriate babble to his father as he picked apart his pastry and ate the sweetest parts first. I was not listening closely, of course, but I did notice that he interrupted himself twice to say the seemingly random words, “fire truck.” Only then did I notice that, in the background city noise, there was indeed a siren sounding (though it was certainly a police siren.) It had nothing to do with his conversation, and he did not talk about it or seem at all excited, but simply named that sound which he recognized.

During the same trip, down by Ghirardelli’s at the waterfront, a little girl walked by with her family, pointed to a street sign and said, “Golden Gate Bridge”. I looked, and the sign was one that used a stylized logo consisting of one of the pylons and a portion of the main span to symbolize, indeed, the Golden Gate Bridge. She recognized it and named it, addressing no one in particular. No further conversation followed, just the moment of recognition and the name called forth.

These observations brought the memory of an incident that struck me years ago as my wife and I stood by the sidelines of an intramural soccer game, together with other young parents and their young children. It was a still summer evening, and a little girl pointed up into the sky past my ear and said, “Balloon is up.” She said it twice. No one but me heard her or responded, but she did not appear to be seeking a response. She seemed quite satisfied to have made an observation of a hot-air balloon hanging in the sky above us, and having all the words necessary to describe the situation: “Balloon is up.” She turned away to look for other interesting things amidst the grass and blankets.

I remembered wondering at how content she seemed to be with her knowledge of the balloon. It was up. She got it. ‘Nuff said. She had no further questions. She was exercising her human capacity to name things, to attach sounds to objects and ideas. She was delighted as only very small children can be. Her knowledge was sufficient. She had a word for the object, and a word for its relative position, and (though she could hardly yet conceive any of these categories as categories) a word asserting its existence and the predication of its position.

How much more could be thought about the balloon! How many questions could be asked about it! Why does it rise? Because the air inside it is “warm”. Why does “warm” air rise? Which is to ask, what does it mean for air to be “warm”? Why did the maker of the balloon go to such trouble to make it colorful? Why do the people inside want to fly it? So many questions, so many concepts of which the child had no idea, and so was unaware that she had no words for them.

We are those who name. Adam’s first assignment on awakening in Eden was to name the animals. Primitive cultures, and ancient cultures including the Hebrew, attach a much deeper and almost mystical significance to names than do we moderns. To know a name was to know something deep about a thing, and to such knowledge was attached power over the thing named. In some cultures a person would have a public name and also a private name known only to friends and intimates. We see a hint of this in the white stones given to the saints in Revelation, on which is his own name known only to each saint and to God. Names, good names at any rate, contain knowledge and power. I think the ancients were right about this.

In the children I observed the satisfaction and pride we take in naming things, and in attaching words to ideas. Knowing a word for that shape in the sky, for that sound in the background, allows us to appropriate it as our own in some sense. We have a symbolic bin into which to place the memory of the thing, for our own future reference and for communication with others at some distant time or place. The children were appropriately pleased with themselves.

But our fascination with words and our sense of accomplishment in naming things hides from us the great depth of our ignorance. We tend to believe that if we can describe a thing well, using words or other symbols, then we have understood it, we have encompassed it about with our understanding. In what fundamental way is the statement, “The speed of light is the same in all frames of reference” (the kernel of truth underlying Einstein’s special theory of relativity) different from the statement, “The balloon is up”? For me, the working through of Einstein’s premise takes me pretty much to the end of my adult ability to comprehend and express, whereas the observations that satisfied the children are so apparent that I no longer even think to myself, “The balloon is up.” Why do we believe that the understandings and formulations that we construct as adult humans approach knowledge significantly more closely than those of our own children? Can we not easily imagine an intelligence for whom Einstein’s theories are as elementary and apparent as a child’s observation, “Fire-truck”? When we say, “God is eternal”, what, exactly, do we really know about what we are saying?

We must be careful when we use words lest, when we have constructed a complete sentence, we believe like the little girl that we have understood something. We rarely have; we have simply named it or collected a bunch of named concepts to describe it. Such knowledge is indeed wonderful, and is one of the ways in which we share the image of Him who Names, but it is, after all, like a child’s gathering a collection of beautiful smooth stones on a riverbank and feeling that he thereby understands the river.

The Natural Family Manifesto and Liberalism

In the course of a conversation about liberalism, Caleb Stegall referred me to this Manifesto by Carlson and Mero, as an example of the type of position that he favors, and presumably that he considers non-liberal (since that is the context of the argument). I would recommend it highly.

I believe that Caleb considers this document to be non-liberal because it lists among its goals the limitation of certain "rights" that are currenly enjoyed by members of our American society, such as the right to abortion, to no-fault or easy divorce, and to government-sponsored daycare. If this is so, then I am decidedly non-liberal, as I endorse all the goals in this document. Furthermore, I would suggest that nearly all the folks he has accused of being incurably and unconsciously liberal would endorse this document and its goals. True libertarians, for sure, should have difficulty with this document. But it strikes me as odd that Caleb could have missed that most of those taking issue with him are on record elsewhere as opposing gay marriage, abortion, modern feminism, and divorce. The document's view of capitalism seems muddled; the authors seem to like small-scale, family-business capitalism but not large-scale, corporate and global capitalism. Some of his readers might disagree with the Family Wage concepts discussed therein, but I suspect that most would agree (again, including myself.)

My difficulty with Caleb may be that he seems to find fault with the modern liberal democracy in its processes, and does not distinguish this from its ends. He does not seem to like the process of sitting at a common table with representatives of antagonistic (to the goals of the Manifesto, for example) groups and foregoing coercive methods in favor of seeking consensus, seeming to believe that to procedurally grant equal discursive weight to contradictory beliefs or goals is tantamount to reducing those beliefs or goals to mere preferences or styles. If this is his view, and I am by no means certain that it is, it seems a willful ignorance about the depth of commitment by his blogging colleagues to many of these non-liberal, rights-limiting goals of political discourse and action.

This manifesto uses the formula, "We will...(recognize, allow, empower)." It nowhere states the mechanism by which these changes will be made. It is presumed that the Manifesto envisions such changes in the law of the land to occur through the processes of our modern liberal democracy. Interestingly, it traces the origin of our problem back to the French revolution, but not to our own. Is our own liberal democracy not deeply founded upon the thought of John Locke? It is undoubtedly so. If the Manifesto were to suggest that these changes are to take place through a military coup, or that after gaining political power through the means of liberal democracy we should abolish that democracy, and that process, in favor of rule by the church and an active suppression of dissenting opinion, then I would be against not the Manifesto's goals but its methodology. I see nothing in the Manifesto to suggest that it has anything but the highest regard for the process of modern liberal democracy. It merely makes the assertion that the smallest political unit is the family, not the individual.

This was actually the subject of one of my oral exams (which are really discussions led by the student) at St. John's: whether Locke's system requires the individual to be the smallest unit, or whether its account of government could be developed from some larger unit, such as a family or clan. It was my premise that it could be developed from a presumption of families or clans as the smallest unit. supported by the observation that Locke develops his sytem from individuals already organized as families (as opposed to Hobbes, who sees his state of nature as being mate-in-the-woods and move on.) For Locke, the family and clan were precursors of the larger state, very close to the state of nature, and not identical with the organization of the state of course. (He eschewed the argument for monarchy based on patriarchy). Nevertheless, all such formulations with the family as the smallest unit have difficulty comprehending the renegade individual. Just as biology, while recognizing the organism as a unit in some circumstances, must recognize the cell as a unit in many other circumstances. One cannot ignore the individual cell, simply because all larger tissues are, in one very important sense, simply organized collections of them. About half of us will die from the consequences of a single cell losing control of itself and escaping from the surveillance of the collective's systems to replicate itself, commandeer resources, and ultimately destroy the whole organization (cancer.)

Anyway, the Manifesto is an excellent document, somewhat simplistic perhaps in some of its macroeconomic ideas. The rights it proposes to curtail are not rights of access to the "public square", or to a "seat at the table", but only "rights" to behave in certain ways or to have one's property taxed or not taxed based on one's position in society and families. All this seems to me to be totally consistent with Locke's system, and hence with the modern liberal democracy, with the sole exception that this document asserts (though without working it out) that the family, not the individual, is the smallest political unit. Perhaps it is therefore crypto-patriarchal, but I don't think so. I'd like to see someone work through, as I tried at St. John's, a representative form of government based upon families. Would adult unmarried children vote? If so, would they have to vote like their father? Mother? If not, isn't this individualistic?

The Books tag.

Derek Melleby has tagged me to answer the Books questionaire...

How many books do you own?
Counting only books on the shelves or on the floor next to shelves (ie, not in cartons in the attic), and only books thick enough to have titles on the spines, we have over 1,400 titles. Keep in mind that we homeschooled four children, so have many juvenile titles (think Newberry titles.)

What was the last book you bought?
I'm not certain, but in the "read next" pile are Lauren Winner's Real Sex, Guinness' Unspeakable, McIntyre's After Virtue, and Nahim's An Imaginary Tale: The Story of i (square root of -1).

What's the last book you read?
The last book I completed was Wendell Berry's The Memory of Old Jack. Almost finished Colson and Cameron's Human Dignity in the Biotech Century.

What are the five books that mean the most to you?
This is really hard. As if one book I will list all the essays of C. S. Lewis, especially those in Weight of Glory and The Problem of Pain. If there is one writer whose thoughts and examples I quote or contemplate most often, it would be Lewis. In fiction, I suppose the Lord of the Rings might be best beloved, together with Paton's Cry the Beloved Country. Very influential in my appreciation of poetry was Carl Sandburg (when I was very young) and T. S. Eliot (especially Four Quartets) when I reached middle age. My favorite Biblical commentator would be C. H. Spurgeon (or possibly Boice), and my favorite book of the Bible would be Ecclesiastes. I realize that I have not specified many titles, but I guess I orient more to authors than specific titles.

I do not have a very wide blog world, and most of those I know of have already been tagged. I'd be interested in hearing from my sons who have public blogs, David and Daniel, and a near-son, Justin Cave.

Ecclesiastes and air travel

Flying to a distant city is an experience that affirms the observations of the Preacher in the book of Ecclesiastes. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.

This person here is a millionaire; he owns more and makes more than 98% of Americans, which means more than 99.9% of human beings. But look, from way up here you can barely see his house. In fact, if that house were bulldozed into dust, together with all his possessions, you couldn't detect a change in the landscape at all. The dust would barely reach the end of his street. He is part of a barely perceptible layer adherent to the great sphere of the earth, a film that could be scraped off with a fingernail. From here in the sky, not even very high up, I can look over the habitats of literally millions of his fellow creatures, his great cities merely a sort of excrescence, a scab upon the curve of the earth below. The smallness of his life, of his influence, is appalling. Truly man is dust, he is of yesterday and knows nothing.

I land in San Francisco. I make no difference whatsoever. Not one person in the city cares where I am from, who I am, what I do. I could be murdered in the Tenderloin and the city would grind on without a twitch, without a thought for my demise, because, truly, I mean nothing to it, I am completely inconsequential. I am not even visible from passing airplanes.

Considered from a viewpoint of a cruising 757, "under the sun", between the heavens and the earth, we are individually nothing, and even collectively, one senses that we could all die from plague and the earth would go on, the mountains would remain covered with snow, the desert foxes would hunt their prey, we would not be missed by this planet that is so huge, upon which we are such an insignificant smear. Yet our God knows each of us. It is a measure of the smallness of our minds that we work it backwards; we appreciate how small we are by contemplation of the size of the earth and its population. We do not think, because we cannot comprehend, how large God is to know, utterly, each one of those billions of souls as if she alone existed, to know each one better than I know my wife and children. What is man that thou considerest him? A smear on the earth, thinner than the the smear of mold on a tomato, yet each one a real person in God's eyes, known by Him. Let us enjoy our work under the sun, for that is God's gift to man. Let us not think it is particularly important in the grand scheme of things, or that we understand our place and the meaning of our lives. We do not. Yet that knowledge is not required of us; all that is required is that we remember God, that we attend to the relationship that makes us human and makes us significant apart from our miniscule effect upon the planet. We are known by the only knower that matters.

God is so personal...

There are various reasons for my not having blogged for the past month...one is a big decision about where to go next with the embryology series, and a need to read some more before proceeding. Another is that my wife and I have been in San Francisco for the past week or so.

One reason for our trip was the duty to scatter my sister-in-law's ashes in the Pacific, as she had requested. She died two years ago, at age 52, of lung cancer, a few days after confessing her faith in the Lord Jesus, and the latter after over 30 years of faithful prayer by my wife. Susie loved the coast of the Monterey bay and peninsula, and especially loved the sea otters there. I found myself with 14 days off in a row, and we decided rather spur-of-the moment to fly west and do it.

Barb and I drove south from 'Frisco to a peninsula near Monterey and began to hike around looking for a good place to put the ashes into the sea. The vistas were gorgeous, with waves crashing on a rocky coast, twisted cypresses leaning against the wind, millions of nesting cormorants and other sea birds. We spent hours hiking the trails, looking for a spot that was private and had access to the water. Though it was unspoken, we both knew that Barb was also looking for sea otters. We knew that this area was a refuge for otters, and that, of course, there would therefore be otters around somewhere, or sometime, even if we didn't actually see one today. Still, Susie wanted otters…Barb wanted otters. We saw lots of seals hauled up on rocks or swimming around, but no otters. Finally, as the day waned, we had to just go somewhere and do it.

We had found one area of sandy beach that would do, though it wasn't, clearly, what we had in mind. We were thinking crashing waves with sea otters. There was one area we had not explored, and I had one of those odd, easy-for-a-scientist-like-me-to-dismiss-as-insignificant hunches that we should go there, and hike south, and if we didn't find "the spot", we would eventually end up at the beach which was at least acceptable. So that's what we did.

We parked and hiked out to the shore. There it was, the private rocky surf-carved place we were seeking. The surf was dramatic and a little scary, and the tide was coming in rapidly. We prayed, we cried, we thanked God for saving Susie at last, and committed her ashes to the sea.

As we rose to leave the rocks, I used the binoculars for one last scan of the kelp-fields. There, on his back smashing mussels on his belly, was a sea otter. Barb was delighted; this was the final touch, the personal touch of a God who cares about his children. I was moved again by the amazingly personal nature of God.

I realized that God frequently acts this way towards my wife. She prays, under her breath as it were, “It would be really nice if, on my fortieth birthday, God sent me a bluebird in the back yard. No big deal, but it would be nice.” And he does. “It would be really special if, when we scatter Susie’s ashes, there were sea otters.” And despite our efforts and hours of hiking in the “right” place, we cannot find a sea otter. Then, immediately after committing the ashes, there is a sea otter.

God does not act this way toward me, because I am not the same kind of person as my wife. I would not appreciate it, perhaps. I would write it off as coincidence, as silly, as beneath God’s attention. We do not relate in this way, God and I. But my wife has a collection of such personal touches in her life, the “insignificant” detail that was just the thing she was looking for as sign of God’s touch.

There is a recent movie whose identity escapes me, in which one character says to another, “It’s nothing personal.” And the other character wonders, “What does that mean? Everything is personal!” It is perhaps peculiarly (fallen) human to segregate events into personal and impersonal. Perhaps everything, literally, is personal. My relationship to my children is entirely personal; I regularly distinguish between them, love them differently according to their natures, and treat them differently according to their differing persons. In our home, we have always eschewed the concept of “fairness” as applied between parent and child among siblings. We do not pretend to treat all our children the same way; they are not the same persons. They have not grown up in the same home. One was an only child of parents in their mid twenties; one was a child with three older siblings and more experienced parents in their thirties. Everything is personal. In our home, the argument, “But you let so-and-so do it” carries almost no weight. You are not so-and-so, and my responsibility and relationship here is to you, not him. “If I want him to remain until I come, what is that to you?”

Perhaps we act impersonally because our minds are too small to act entirely personally. We have generalizing laws because we cannot manage case-by-case justice, every case taken absolutely on its own terms. We revert to custom and convention because we cannot attain to the complexity of really considering every person and every situation as entirely distinct and different. But God, of course, can and does.

If God is entirely personal, and if persons are the most fundamental things in the creation (which I suspect they are), then we cannot expect God to behave entirely “consistently”, i.e., he will not always do the same thing in what appears to us to be the “same circumstances”. They are not, of course, the same circumstances. They are only the “same” in a general way, a generalization required by our limited intellects, but not required in fact. This may be why scientific analyses do not reveal God’s activity; His activity does not follow what we would recognize as “natural laws”, which are fully generalizable predications. It may be, however, that the laws we do recognize simply “emerge” from God’s personal activity toward each of the billions of persons in his creation insofar as each of those persons do require certain consistencies of context to interact with each other and with Him. But this is to enter upon another topic, as well as to travel pretty far out a speculative branch.

In summary, I am overwhelmed by the deeply personal manner in which God relates to each of us, by the contemplation of the size of the heart and mind of a Being capable of such individuated concern for each of us. The whole world is transformed into a more deeply beautiful and mysterious place by these thoughts

Zygotes, Embryos and Narrative

(This is part 5 of an ongoing series that starts here…)

To be human means to have a history. Our histories have profound effects upon who we are and what we are like. This is so evidently true that all languages have hundreds of words that make distinctions based upon personal history. A widow is physically indistinguishable from a divorcee. A father from a bachelor. A victim from a perpetrator. An orphan from an heir.

Our histories also affect our legal status. Immigrants have different status by virtue of origin. Seniors have certain rights by virtue of age. Victims have standing in a court while non-victims do not. Debilitating accidents may cast our self-determination upon others.

At least in my reading, most evangelicals writing about beginning-of-life issues make the assumption that “an embryo is an embryo is an embryo.” All embryos with human DNA are “human beings”, period. There is no recognition whatsoever that embryos themselves have narrative histories. There is the assumption that whenever an embryo exists, “someone’s” personal life history has begun. I am not certain this is true.

What are the salient features of the narrative of the beginning of life in the Bible? Adam was formed directly by God, (body from the earth) and then inbreathed by God as a separate, remarkable action. But prior even to this, God determined to make Man. Man existed first in the imagination of God, as an end of his forming of man. When God made Eve, the same elements are found: imagination, purpose, forming of matter, but not, this time, the separate breathing. God then commands them to reproduce and "fill the earth." But for Biblical man, this was never a matter of simple determination like it is for God. Man couples, but it is always understood that God opens the womb. The life narratives of adult husband and wife do include attempts to beget children, but do not include the actual beginning of any of their offspring’s' lives. These lives begin in secret, in the dark womb, as God's action. This is a deeply important concept in the scriptures, worth emphasizing. Children are not simply made, by the will of man or woman, but are given by God, originating in his mind just as did Adam and Eve, where is known their entire narrative, "all their days, before there is yet one of them." We see this over and over, from Sarah and Rebecca to Hannah, Bathsheba and Mary.

The narrative of each of our lives, then, originates not in those of our parents, but in God's. Our parents' lives are the setting, or context, but not the source of our own lives. The story of one's life originates in God.

This is the point made in Psalm 139, which is commonly reasoned backwards by evangelicals. The adult psalmist traces not only his origin but also his entire life story back to the mind and purposes of God. He is marveling not at the power of his own embryo to self-assemble and develop into a baby, but at God's sublime action in purposefully forming him through all the stages of his physical development. He sees his life as coming from God, who conceived him in His mind before he was even a single cell, and formed him in his mother's womb (of stuff he couldn't begin to understand; but the nature of that stuff is not his point, the Builder is.)

To close today: The zygote or embryo is not the origin of the narrative of any human life. That narrative begins in the purposes of God. This, I think, is the witness of all the Bible narratives, and meditations, from front to back. This distinction has several implications for how we view embryos, which I’ll begin to develop next post.

Mini Humor....

(This short is illustrative of Mini owner's humor...)

Traditionalist Conservatism

Just finished this interesting article in "The New Pantagruel." It is a little slow starting, but became pretty interesting to me about halfway through. I suspected I might be a neoconservative, but now think I am actually a traditionalist conservative. Some highlights:

• The conservative spirit, as such, arises only when loss is at hand, or, probably more frequently, when loss has occurred. Consequently, there is always a “reactionary” dimension to such conservatism; the conservative typically arrives “too late” for mere conservation.
  So drenched in the progressive spirit is American political discourse (how could it be otherwise in the novus ordo seclorum?) that the backward glance is usually rejected out of hand, and with the most facile of arguments.
• While in possession, we take our good for granted and, so, often fail to recognize it. But in the face of loss, the human good is vividly revealed to us. We lament the loss of goods, not the loss of evils, which is why lament illuminates. Is it not striking that whereas antebellum Southern writers championed both the economic and moral superiority of the “peculiar institution,” post-bellum Southern conservatives typically did not lament the loss of slavery, but rather lamented the loss of gentility, gallantry, domesticity, and the virtues of yeoman agriculturalists? While it may be true that nostalgia views the past through “rose-colored glasses,” such a criticism misses the point. To see the good while blinkered against evils is, nevertheless, to see the good. This is a source of knowledge, as well as a moral source.
• Whereas the Enlightenment “builds down” from politics to morals, the conservative “builds up” from morals to politics. Perhaps it would be fair to say that the liberal tradition even today has not yet generated a credible account of moral life. Perhaps it would be similarly fair to say that the conservative tradition has not yet generated a credible account of political life.

Check it out.

A Good Question...

Perhaps persuasion is now the role of the blog... At least, it has that potential.

What is Cloning?

(This is part 4 of a series, which begins here...)

“Cloning”, in general, refers to the production of an exact copy of a living organism. Generally, when nature creates a clone, a large number of copies are made. The term is used to describe the normal process within our own body whereby a certain type of immune cell is made. Something to which we are becoming immune will change one of our immune cells, which “recognizes” the foreign substance as foreign and constructs an antibody to that substance. Then this cell that “knows” the foreign substance is replicated by the body over and over again, so as to generate an army of identical cells, all of which can make the new antibody. (Palpatine’s Clone Army writ small…) Likewise, most cancers are “clones” of one or a few cells that somehow lost their ability to govern their own reproduction and have begun to replicate themselves endlessly. The huge colonies of E. coli and other microorganisms that are used to produce human insulin and other human protein medications are clones of a bacteria cell into which was inserted a human gene, the “blueprint” for human insulin for example, and then that cell was “cloned” into billions of identical cells, all of which have the gene for insulin and make insulin along with their normal products. When we do bone-marrow transplants, or grow skin tissue on Petri dishes to treat burn victims, we are relying upon types of cloning processes, using adult stem cells in the case of the bone-marrow transplant.

The cloning that is controversial is the reproduction of human tissues from “embryonic” cells. I have used quotation marks to indicate that the term “embryonic” can have different meanings, which may be philosophically as well as technically distinct. We already clone bone marrow stem cells to replenish cancer victim’s cells that have been wiped out by chemotherapy or radiation. We already grow layers of skin on culture medium to treat burn victims. We already swap whole tissues and organs from one individual to another, from corneas to livers to hearts and lungs. We therefore have not evidenced a theological problem with “tissue ownership” or with growing tissues outside the body to be returned to the body of a victim as “repair” tissue, even if the tissue was not one’s own. The problem resides in the concept of “embryonic”, because we identify the embryo as being an individual human being, so that any manipulation or destruction of the embryo is seen as human mutilation or murder.

Let us look closely at this type of “cloning”, considering the reasons people are interested in it, and the processes involved at this time in the development of the technology.

The type of cloning we are considering is called somatic-cell cloning. A somatic cell is a cell that comes from body cells as opposed to reproductive cells. If we wanted to generate a whole group of identical persons, for example, we could start with a zygote fertilized in the normal way, by combination of sperm and egg, and then keep separating that little ball of cells over and over again to get identical twins, then identical quadruplets, then identical octuplets, etc. These individuals would all be identical to each other, but different from everyone else outside their birth-group because their genetic material came, originally, from a sperm-and-egg fertilization and is hence unique. This is not somatic-cell cloning, because it starts with the germ cells.

In somatic cell cloning, a nucleus is taken from some non-reproductive-system cell in a developed organism, and “reset” to the original pluripotent status characteristic of a zygote. That is, all the “librarians” in the library are instructed to close all the open drawers, and now unlock only those drawers with those blueprints that are opened to begin development of the whole body from scratch, ie, those drawers which are open in an embryo at the ball-of-cells stage. It is like pressing the “reset” button, so that now this cell, which previously could only develop into a bone or muscle cell, could now develop into any and every tissue in the body. Because this cell came from a certain donor individual and has all that individual’s genetic material, this means that any tissue that developed from this cell would be genetically and immunologically identical to the donor’s tissues, hence it would be accepted back into the donor’s body in the same way that his own skin cells can be accepted back after being grown in tissue culture. It is the promise of being able to grow such identical replacement tissues that makes somatic-cell cloning such a hot research item.

So, the goal in human cloning is to take a donor's differentiated, determined cell and reset its nuclear material back to the embryonic state, so that it can then develop into any human tissue that is needed. How might this be done? How to convince the “librarian” proteins to reset the library to Day 1? Scientists reasoned that there might be something in the environment of an egg that sets the nucleus to behave as an embryonic nucleus, so they began removing the unfertilized nuclei from eggs, sucking the nucleus out of a donor’s somatic cell (a skin cell, for example), and injecting it into the enucleated egg. I am simplifying greatly, but the idea is to use the cell-constructing machinery of the egg cytoplasm (the cell organs outside the nucleus that do the building) together with the instruction set of a particular donor’s unneeded somatic cell nucleus. Whatever molecules or combination of circumstances that obtain within an egg cell, they serve to reset the genetic code in the nucleus. One day, almost certainly, the exact identity and mechanism of action of these “resetting” proteins will be discovered, and at that point the somatic nucleus may not have to be placed into an empty egg cell, but perhaps “reset” in a test tube, within its own original cell membrane. It is important to understand that the use of evacuated eggs is, at this point, simply a crude technique to accomplish an intranuclear event: the un-determination of the somatic cell, a reversion to an earlier state in the developmental program.

One can easily see the cause of the most serious alarm among evangelicals: the status of the reset nucleus-egg cell as “embryonic”. If indeed this technique creates a “fertilized egg” that, if implanted in a womb, would develop into the donor’s twin, does it not become a separate “human being” at the moment the nuclear program is reset? Is it not just the same as all the other in-vitro embryos that are created in the various processes of technologically-aided fertility? Is it not the donor's "twin"? More next time….

(This series continues here...)

Differentiation and Determination

(This is installment #3 of a series on cloning. The beginning of the series is here.)

After fertilization, the zygote begins to divide, duplicating all 46 chromosomes faithfully each cell division so that every daughter has the same genetic material. At first there is no growth, and all the cells are the same, so that the size of the cells gets progressively smaller as their number increases. The cells keep dividing until there is a ball of cells. At this stage, every cell is pluripotent, meaning that any one of these cells, if separated from the others and placed in a nurturing womb, could develop into a normal baby. This means that the cells are not yet determined to become a particular type of cell, and since they are all the same, and not specialized yet into any particular type, they are also not yet differentiated. Identical twins occur at this point when something causes the undifferentiated, undetermined small ball of cells to come apart into two, each of which then continues to develop normally. Since all the cells have the same genetic material, the resultant individuals will be genetically identical. One could take this ball of cells and separate it into three parts, getting identical triplets. One could separate it into four parts, and get identical quadruplets. The point is, each of these cells, and any group of these cells, is capable of building an entire, normal individual. They are pluripotent stem cells, one of the types of embryonic stem cells you have heard so much about.

As the cells continue to divide, the ball begins to hollow out, and soon the hollow ball loses its complete symmetry as one side pushes into the interior of the ball so that some of the cells are on the “outside” of the ball and some of the cells are on the “inside”. At this stage, the cells begin to be determined, meaning that their instructions in their nuclei begin to be “set” irreversibly so that they become destined to become a certain class of cell, and lose their original capability to make every possible type of human cell. If you think of each type of cell deriving from some other type of cell, like branches off a tree with each smaller branch representing a more particular type of cell, the zygote (fertilized egg) is the trunk, and has the capability of developing into every type of human cell. It is therefore the ultimate “stem cell”, since all other cells “stem” from it. At very early stages, when the embryo is still microscopic, some of those cells become committed to become skin and lining cells, some commit to becoming nerve tissue, and some commit to becoming bones and muscles, though at this stage they still all look the same. The fact that they are committed means that they have become determined, and cannot go back to being pluripotent zygote-like stem cells. They are still stem cells, because they will give rise to yet more specific cells and retain the capability of being several types of cells, just not ALL types of cells. They might, for example, become a bone cell or a muscle cell, but can’t any longer develop into skin cells or brain cells. Since they aren’t yet actually bone or muscle cells, they are not yet differentiated, but their internal program is now set for a certain pathway of development, so they are determined.

The rest of the development of the embryo is a matter of continually narrowing capabilities of the stem cells, as they become more and more narrowly committed to a certain type of tissue. Also, the cells begin to look and act differently from one another, becoming differentiated into specific mature cell types. By the time of adulthood, the individual still has many stem cells scattered throughout (probably) all his tissues, which serve to heal injuries and replenish losses. Most of these stem cells are still very determined (that is, they are committed to a certain type of tissue), however, and very hard to isolate. The different types of blood cells are being continually formed from stem cells in the bone marrow, but these stem cells can only “branch” into specific types of blood cells, and couldn’t become skin cells. There are other stem cells scattered in our skin that can regenerate a few types of skin cell. For example, it is now thought that there may be some stem cells even in the heart, so that under the right circumstances cardiac muscle might be regenerated. Our livers already do a pretty good job of regenerating themselves, presumably from residual stem cells that are capable of becoming the various types of liver cell.

Returning to our metaphor of the nucleus as blueprint library, we can think of the librarians (the regulatory proteins that "tend" the DNA) as controlling very tightly the set of blueprints that can be accessed in each cell. One can think of them unlocking and locking various drawers, so that only certain blueprints are available in that library (that cell nucleus). At fertilization, they gather together the filing cabinets from the father and the mother's germ cells, and begin to open certain drawers that contain plans for molecules and building materials needed for formation of the ball of cells, and they lock up the drawers that have plans for very specific cell structures like nerves and bone and skin, that are not yet needed. As the contractor molecules come in for plans, they can only get those that have to do with being an embryo and setting up the framework for the organism as a whole. At some point, for reasons we do not completely understand, having to do with size and age of the embryo and with the position of the cell within the embryo, some of the librarian molecules in some of the cells open some new drawers, and lock up some old ones. The new drawers have plans for new structures, new molecules, new cellular machinery that will make the cell differentiate into a particular kind of cell, and the locking of the older drawers means that there is no going back now; the cell has been "determined" to the extent that the drawers for the earlier functions are now locked and inaccessible. As the cell divides and the "libraries" are duplicated, the librarians are duplicated also, so that the daughter cells will have the same drawers open or locked. An adult stem cell is a cell that keeps some of the earlier drawers open, in case injury necessitates the small-scale regeneration of some particular tissue.

The interest in stem cells derives from the observation that some animals, such as salamanders, can regenerate entire limbs, while we cannot. Why can we not? It appears that whatever stem cells we have retained, there are none “primitive” enough, none close enough to the original embryonic stem cells, that can recapitulate the original process and generate and direct the whole set of cells and processes needed to reconstruct the damaged limb or organ. The irony, of course, is that we know that the whole instruction set is “in there” in the DNA, we just don’t know how to push the “reset” button, so to speak. Those early blueprints, the parts that originally constructed our nervous system, musculoskeletal system, GI tract and skin all from a single featureless cell, are somehow there but “locked up”. Stem cell research is all about trying to learn how to turn these organ-construction programs back on again. It is about identifying those circumstances that push the "librarians" to return a given cell back to a pluripotent state, unlocking the very early file drawers and undoing its determination as a particular type of cell.

(This continues here...)

Chromosomes and Fertilization

(The link above will take you to the latest NYTimes article on the Korean human cloning project.) (This is installment #2 of a series on cloning and the beginning of life. The first installment is here.)

Now for some details about what goes on in the nucleus of our cells, where our genetic information comes from, and how it is handled normally in the course of cell division, generation of sperm and egg cells ("germ" cells), and in fertilization. This section is long, but I believe that these basic concepts are truly necessary to consider issues relating to cloning and reproduction.

All cells, including bacteria, are constructed according to information that is contained as a type of code on extremely long molecules called DNA. Just as Morse Code contains only two distinguishable elements, a “dot” and a “dash”, so DNA contains only four elements, (A, T, C and G) that spell out strings of three-letter words that each signify a particular amino acid in a sequence. Most cells contain the entire instruction set for the entire organism in a structure called the nucleus, and even those cells that have lost all these instructions (have no nuclei), like red blood cells and platelets, were made from or within other cells that had the whole set.

In mammals and most other complex organisms, these long molecules of DNA are attended by, and in various ways attached to, many specific proteins and sugars whose job is to maintain and interact with the DNA so as to translate its message into actual structures and events in the life of the organism, and this combination of DNA and its associated proteins is called a “chromosome”. The complete set of instructions for each organism is divided into several chromosomes, and the number of chromosomes is species-specific, meaning that any particular species has a certain number of chromosomes, no more and no less. Humans have 23 different chromosomes, numbered 1-22 plus the sex chromosome, which together contain all the information necessary to build and maintain a human being. However, all mammals (actually almost all multicelled organisms) have two samples of each type of chromosome, one from the male parent and one from the female parent, so that for every instruction and every gene (except for a few genes on the X chromosome) each cell has two instances of that instruction or gene, one from each parent. This is a type of protective redundancy; if one of the samples of chromosome #3 is faulty, for example, the chance that the same gene is faulty on the other sample of chromosome #3, from the other parent, is exceedingly small, provided that the parents are not closely related to each other. So, while humans have 23 different types of chromosomes, they have two versions of each type, one from each parent, making a total of 46 chromosomes in each nucleated cell.

A useful metaphor for the contents of the nucleus in each cell is a large library of blueprints, complete with very focused and protective librarians. There is no other reading material…only blueprints. Each blueprint contains the plans for a molecule, which can be either a building-block or structural material, or a molecular machine that manipulates other molecules. Certain molecules that we might think of as “contractor” molecules can come into the library and get copies of each of these blueprints, but only if the librarian molecules allow it. The librarian molecules themselves, of course, were made from blueprints in the library, the complete set of which is called the organism’s “genome”. The blueprints are organized very specifically in certain locations on certain chromosomes, which might be thought of as specific drawers in specific filing cabinets.

Whenever a cell divides, it first makes a complete copy of each of its chromosomes, one for each daughter cell, and utilizes a complex but very reliable process to keep track of each chromosome and make certain that each daughter cell gets only one copy of each chromosome. All the filing cabinets are duplicated, so to speak, and each copy of each one is moved to one end of the library or the other, and then the library divides in half, one for each daughter cell. The only exception is when reproductive or “germ” cells are made, in which case the number of chromosomes is reduced back to only one instance of each of the 23 types, so that sperm and eggs each have only a single version of each chromosome. It is important to realize that there are several “shuffling” steps in the generation of germ cells, so that the 23 chromosomes in any given sperm or egg are a mixed set of genes from both parents, and, statistically, no two germ cells contain exactly the same set of genes. Not only are the maternal and paternal filing cabinets “shuffled”, but the drawers in each filing cabinet are shuffled, so that each cabinet in the end has the same number and type of drawers, but some of the drawers are from Dad and some from Mom. There are no longer any purely “Mom” filing cabinets or “Dad” filing cabinets in the germ cells. When sperm and egg come together, each brings (in humans) 23 chromosomes, so that the resulting “zygote” (fertilized egg) has 46 chromosomes again. The reason mules are infertile is that horses and donkeys have different numbers of chromosomes, so that the resultant mule does not have a “matched set” of chromosomes and hence cannot make useable germ cells from its odd number of chromosomes.

When an adult human makes a germ cell (actually, a woman’s eggs are all made while she is still a fetus in her own mother’s womb, but a man makes sperm continually), each germ cell therefore should have 23 chromosomes, one of each type. Some birth defects, such as Down’s syndrome and XYY syndromes, occur because one of the germ cells had an extra chromosome, so that the resultant individual has 47 chromosomes instead of 46.

Let us consider the germ cells. These are properly cells that are part of the human being that made them; every one of their chromosomes is a copy of one of the human’s own chromosomes, their substance came from the cells that divided to make them. They are hence “human” cells, and cannot be thought of as belonging to any other organism than the one that produced them. Most of these cells die without issue; they do not reproduce, and most of them never meet a germ cell of the opposite sex to form a new individual. A male produces millions of sperm a day, all but three (in my case) dying without producing a new individual, and a woman likewise “wastes” all but a few of her eggs.

Fertilization refers to the merging of the nuclei of the sperm and the egg to form a single nucleus, containing a set of 46 chromosomes, 23 pairs, one member of each pair from each parent. For millennia, this occurred only within the body of the woman, usually in the fallopian tubes, as a result of normal sexual intercourse. Now it can occur within the woman as a result of artificial insemination, or outside the woman “in vitro” (“in glassware”). “In vitro” fertilization is similar to the manner in which fish and amphibians fertilize their eggs; the egg is outside the female, and the sperm is dumped over the egg to fertilize it. The egg chemically attracts the sperm; the sperm have no “eyes”, and therefore rely upon chemical signals from the egg in order to locate it. The egg is swarmed by thousands of sperm that work to penetrate its outer layers, and as soon as the first sperm penetrates a threshold, the egg raises a membrane-like structure to repulse all the other sperm so that only a single male nucleus can fuse with the egg nucleus to make 46 chromosomes. My point here is to note that the egg is not “passive” in fertilization, but interacts with the sperm. A normal egg and a normal sperm “do something” specific to effect fertilization. We will see that this is not the case in cloning.

The fertilized egg is called a zygote. At this time, since we cannot duplicate either sperm or eggs, every egg and every sperm is unique, no matter how obtained and no matter where fertilization takes place. Therefore, every zygote, at this stage, is unique. We will note that this is not the case in cloning.

(Next: Determination and Differentiation, here)

(Pause to admire the Mini Cooper)

Andy Crouch on the Mini Cooper and other "devices as focal things". Just some fun. (By the way, while we do have a Mini Cooper, we have neither a TiVo nor a Viking range...just a middling Whirlpool and Panasonic DVD/VCR. Have to keep that Bobo impulse under some control...)

Conception and Embryology: Intro

In forthcoming blogs I hope to explore beginning-of-life issues as they relate primarily to cloning, in vitro fertilization and abortion. My views have been gradually changing over the past decade, and one of the reasons for laying out some thoughts here is to get them “out there”, on paper, so that I myself may evaluate them in a manner more systematic than I can accomplish in my head. I will be exploring some ideas that have occurred to me, and am quite willing…even eager…to have them challenged.

Many readers will already be familiar with the details of human conception and embryology, at least those aspects that bear directly upon the moral and theological issues I will be considering here. However, on the possibility that some will not be familiar with the processes involved, and the likelihood that many will not be familiar with terms that have very specific meanings in this domain, I would like to quickly sketch the overall process of mammalian conception and early embryology. A few of the terms, such as differentiation and determination, are very important when discussing stem cells, but do not typically appear in the popular press and are therefore probably unknown to most non-medical readers.

Please note that I am consciously trying to avoid using terms that are “at issue”, specifically such terms that beg the question by presuming the outcome, such as “human being” and “person”. “Embryo” has a specific scientific meaning that predates the abortion controversy, as does “fetus”, referring to the developing organism in the early and late stages of gestation (pregnancy) respectively, and need not be taken to imply that the developing organism lacks human rights or does not deserve protection.

I feel very cautious about the term, “human being”. This term means, at least, some discreet entity that exists (being) and is of the human species. Some also take it to mean, as if by definition, a being created in the image of God and hence possessing all the rights of any such being vis-à-vis other similar beings, and all the duties owed to God by such a being. This is to identify the English words “human being” with the Hebrew word “adam” in Genesis, an identification that is not necessary and which drives many arguments about abortion and embryonic issues, which arguments often boil down to simply using the same words differently.

We will start with biology, simply so that we understand the terms and the processes about which we are speaking. Once we have surveyed the territory, we will begin to dig in more philosophically and theologically.

(The next installment of this series is here.)

The "Dark" Side

For those of you who enjoy "dark" films (and I know you're out there...), my son David has recently posted reviews of "Blade: Trinity" and "Fight Club" on his film-and-book-review web site, Tears in Rain. I have not seen the second or third Blade installments; and quit Fight Club about half-way through (before the denouement.) The latter got too raunchy for me. Yet, this is clearly the stuff of twenty-somethings' discussion these days. Hmmmm...

How I Think

Short version: I maintain a working account of reality, which some might label a "worldview", that I seek to keep as coherent as possible across all the domains about which I know anything. New ideas are integrated into this worldview to the extent that they increase coherence and explanatory power. Once integrated, most ideas lose their individual history...ie, I forget the source; the idea becomes "mine" insofar as it is simply part of the way I think.

Long version: I do not have a "good memory". By that I mean that I do not easily remember facts that are not part of an integrated framework of other facts and ideas. For example, though I am a physician and use certain medications every day, after 25 years I still have to look up dosages almost every time. This is because the dosage of a particular drug is not derivable from any other characteristic of that drug; it is idiosyncratic, so to speak. I can remember the general "potency" of a drug, such as whether it is used in gram or milligram quantities, but cannot remember if it is 20 mg/kg or 40 mg/kg. That's what reference tables are for, in my opinion.

Therefore, I do not easily remember names, dates, or terminology that does not emerge from the concept itself. Instead, I remember relationships, structures, and causal sequences. Though I started out my college career in Biology, I abandoned that science for Chemistry within one semester, because (at least as a freshman) biology was all about remembering nomenclature (King Phillip Came Over From Green Shores, you know...) There was no reason that a particular worm should be segmented or flat. In chemistry, however, one simply had to understand a few principles and then could derive secondary and tertiary principles. One could create an explanatory "account"...a system or model...and use that account to predict and explain additional observations or "facts". Physics was even better. Remember a few definitions, a few principles, and everything else lines up. I would remember F=MA, the concepts of momentum, mass, velocity and energy, and derive all the other formulas on the fly during a test. There was no way I could remember all the various specific formulas; I had to derive them all from the handful of fundamental "laws" of physics as I needed them. The downside was, this was slower than simply "knowing" the particular formula needed for a particular problem. The upside was, I could see the inter-relatedness of all the particular formulas. I understood. I had a "vision" of the material (mechanical) world that was coherent and, in a sense, "concentrated" into a handful of elegant and simple relationships. This vision, incidentally, is one reason that I am convinced of the existence of God, and one of the ways I understand Him. I believe it is why, in most universities, the atheists are in the humanities and not in the sciences. Ironically in an age in which science is popularly believed to be inconsistent with faith, a large proportion of working scientists are, and have always been, believers in a creator god. Even those who don't believe are troubled by the evidence of Mind and Design in the material world. Read a little Hawking; he fusses about God on almost every page.

As I have continued to read, think, and experience life over these decades, I have continued to build my account of the world, which includes ideas of its origin, destination, and creator. There are lots of loose ends, of course. As I encounter ideas, I evaluate them against and from within this account. If an idea seems to provide more coherence, ie. ties up more loose ends, or seems to reconcile or explain apparent paradoxes, or is simply more "elegant" (which is an aesthetic judgment that has to do partly with simplicity and scope) then I will tend to "adopt" it. By that I mean, it becomes part of the framework of my thought, joined to other thoughts in various mutually-supportive ways. As time passes, and I "use" it more, ie: I reason through it on the way to other ideas, its distinctiveness is blurred. A really useful idea becomes connected seamlessly with other ideas in my way of thinking, and its original connection to a particular book or conversation is lost. Hence, it is precisely the ideas that I find most useful whose origins I am most likely to forget. An idea that doesn't "fit" anywhere might be remembered if I have a sense that it is really elegant or promising but I just haven't yet figured out how to use it. It might be remembered if it is one that is often opposed to my own thinking in actual discourse. But the history of really useful ideas is usually lost to me rather quickly.

This is one of the reasons I dislike discourse that uses authors or technical labels as shorthand for the ideas themselves. Even if I've read the author, if it has been more than a year or two, I will have incorporated the useful ideas, without "labels of origin", and forgotten those I rejected. There are always exceptions, of course, especially if the author has a memorable style like Chesterton, or is so richly useful that I have read the works several times, like Lewis. I have also had the experience often enough of someone quoting an author or a book without really having understood either, but understanding simply where the ideas ought to go, understanding the context of the ideas without really comprehending the ideas themselves. A person can sound quite educated and erudite by using such quotations to stand for ideas that he does not quite comprehend and could not really integrate into any in-depth discussion. It is my experience that most books contain at most a handful of unique ideas, and usually only one or two fundamental ones from which all the others are derived. If one can't actually articulate one of these ideas in the discussion, quotation of the author or book suggests, to me, a slavish reliance on implied authority.

So what? Well, as I embark on some discussions of controversial issues, I will be attempting to reason closely, and will certainly utilize ideas that some readers may have encountered in a particular author or in a "school" of thought. I probably will not attribute the idea explicitly. I also will not be able to engage you in a "He said...She said" kind of dialogue, ie: "Didn't Descartes address this? and didn't Hume reject this? or Doesn't postmodernism say...?" The fact that I don't respond in kind, or don't understand a question framed in this way, does not mean I haven't read the author or can't address his issues. It may simply mean that I have digested what I read, incorporated the parts that seemed right and ejected the parts that seemed wrong. I would prefer to engage the ideas themselves, articulated specifically.

Human Cloning Proceeds Apace

Here we go! this is coming as fast as we expected! This NY Times article shows our manifest inability to stop this technology. Should we stop it? Suppose we can't, as I suspect is the case. How should we respond to the presence of this technology in our world? If we cannot stop it, can we regulate it adequately? What theology is applicable?

I hope to begin some on-line thinking about these issues soon. I will be reading Human Dignity in the Biotech Century by Colson and Cameron, From Souls to Cells -- and Beyond by Malcolm Jeeves, Body and Soul by Moreland and Rae, and Clones, the Clowns of Nature, by Gareth Jones. I will also offer some reflections of my own, derived from mybackground in medicine and also from my reading of scripture and various philosophers. Should be a wild ride!

(Sorry, the NY Times link generator is apparently down.)