Posted on 12/27/2004 8:08:37 AM PST by EnjoyingLife
It is no wonder that earthquakes and floods feature so frequently in the Old Testament. They are, in the correct sense, awesome things. When the Earth itself is disordered, we feel a primal fear. Even the most sophisticated people may find themselves crossing their fingers superstitiously, or murmuring imprecations to some ill-defined power. The flood story - the folk-memory of an ancient inundation that wiped away all but a few survivors - was common across Europe, Asia and pre-Columbian America. Modern fears of global warming and rising sea-levels are, in their way, an echo of that same Noah myth: they play on our belief that everything we have built up may be suddenly effaced by forces stronger than we are.
Full article link: http://news.telegraph.co.uk/opinion/main.jhtml?xml=/opinion/2004/12/27/dl2701.xml&sSheet=/news/2004/12/27/ixnewstop.html
(Excerpt) Read more at news.telegraph.co.uk ...
bump
No pro atheist bias here, is there?
(Even the most sophisticated people may find themselves crossing their fingers superstitiously, or murmuring imprecations to some ill-defined power.)
LOL! During those times they finally realize there are forces beyond their control. Since fear is the abscence of faith (and they have none of that) they get scared sh**less.
In fact, if you read the whole article, you'll see it's decidedly NOT atheist.
It is no wonder that earthquakes and floods feature so frequently in the Old Testament. They are, in the correct sense, awesome things. When the Earth itself is disordered, we feel a primal fear. Even the most sophisticated people may find themselves crossing their fingers superstitiously, or murmuring imprecations to some ill-defined power. The flood story - the folk-memory of an ancient inundation that wiped away all but a few survivors - was common across Europe, Asia and pre-Columbian America. Modern fears of global warming and rising sea-levels are, in their way, an echo of that same Noah myth: they play on our belief that everything we have built up may be suddenly effaced by forces stronger than we are.
The extent of yesterday's tidal cataclysm makes it hard to think about the individual losses. Our brains are not designed to compute suffering on such a scale. We can relate to a single death. We can even, with more difficulty, feel grief at an atrocity such as that at Beslan. But, when whole villages are extirpated and thousands slain, our minds seem to skim off the surface. We might cling to the more manageable components - the fate of British tourists, for example - but the swallowing up of whole communities is literally unimaginable.
Again, we are reminded of our smallness before nature - heartless, witless nature. It is a characteristic of modern society that we are determined to control our destinies. We cling to the conviction that we can temper our health through diet and exercise, when the hard truth is that, although these things matter at the margins, our propensity to sickness is largely written in our genetic code. Similarly - and even more presumptuously - we like to imagine that we can ameliorate our planet's weather patterns by reducing the amount of carbon dioxide we pour into the air. Whether or not this would have the effects claimed by ecologists - and the science is inconclusive - any gain would be insignificant next to the changes in temperature caused by forces outside our control. The fact is that we live on a dangerous planet.
Our fathers understood this. All the Western religions conceived of man as a puny thing next to his Creator. But, in the 21st century, we chafe at the idea that bad things may simply happen, that there was no way of stopping them, that no one is to blame and that no one can be sued. A tsunami strikes at our precious modern sense of being masters of our fate. We feel, with Gonzalo at the beginning of The Tempest, that there is something particularly unfair about meeting our end this way: "Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death". Powerlessness is one of the most wretched of human feelings. But there are days when a readiness to accept the hardness of our condition is the only proper attitude. Yesterday was such a day.
Good point. One can be a Theist and not believe the Bible. I used an overbroad term because I was trying to include observant Jews as well as Christians, but you are correct to call me on the shortcut I took. Next time I need to be more precise.
Referring to Noah as a 'myth', rather than a more neutral 'story' or 'account' does reflect a bias against historical Judaism and Christianity.
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