Science and Religion, or Why I Still Like Christmas

I'm a great follower of science programs on television: programs like Nova, especially those about the cosmos and the universe, and life on earth. I'm no longer much of a church goer, and I give little thought to religion in any but the most general sense, but I'm still interested in those big questions: Who are we? Where did we come from? What's the meaning of life? I haven't a clue so far as answering any of those, but I'm entertained by television programs that purport to bring me up to date on the latest theories. In some respects, for me science has picked up just about where religion left off.

Of course, if someone were to ask me what I believe, I would have to admit I don't really know. It seems to me unlikely that human beings will ever really figure anything out. Just about the time we think we have an answer, someone comes along with another theory, all involving invisible particles and vast unknowable forces and dimensions. On the other hand, it's a good bet we will never give up trying. That's why we like to refer to ourselves as homo sapiens, wise or knowing man. The evidence is we aren't really all that wise, and most of us don't know squat, but that has never stopped us from making claims to knowledge, and being willing to back up our beliefs with lethal force, ever since we started lording it over the poor old Neanderthals and all the rest of creation.

When you think about it, science is really just an extension of religion, especially when it comes to these big questions. Each cult of believers always seems confident in its own explanation of the origins and meaning of life. That's what has made me a skeptic, I guess. Each group is always absolutely confident that they've finally got a line on the truth, but no explanation seems to endure. Now instead of high priests and theologians giving us insight, we have physicists and astronomers. I'm just not persuaded that string theory, dark matter, and black holes are any more reassuring or convincing than that bunch of libidinous Olympians Homer imagined pulling strings and stirring up trouble for his Greeks and Trojans.

But, I'm told, the truth is out there. (Or was that just Fox Mulder whistling in the dark?) And it's our job as humans to go looking for it. I'm not so sure. The older I get the more I find I'm content to be ignorant, muddled, and mystified -- or should that be bewitched, bothered and bewildered? Anyway, I can still remember my first existential disillusionment. Maybe this is true for everyone my age or thereabouts. (Spoiler alert!) It was when I tumbled to the fact that Santa just might not be all he was cracked up to be. I mean, seriously, that was a big blow. What was my incentive to be good, when all I had to contend with was my own parents? I had already learned how to get around them.

I think that's why so many of my favorite movies are about the magic of Christmas. Once a year I sit down and watch It's a Wonderful Life, The Bishop's Wife, Miracle on 34th Street, and others too numerable to mention here,  although I think I've covered most of them in previous posts. (If you're curious you can check them out here, here, and here.) With me it's almost a sacred ritual, like turkey and football at Thanksgiving. After more than sixty-five years, I'm still not sure what the meaning of life is, but I think there may be something close in some of those old movies. Maybe it's the magic of Christmas, or just the magic of childhood; or perhaps it's just nostalgia for a simpler time, but there's a world view there I can still relate to even in these cynical days of rage and world-wide despair.