The "long conversation" starts in the psalms, continues through early English writers like Chaucer and Spenser to modern poets and farmers, centering on the role of nature, the appropriate care of land and creatures, and the ways nature and faith intersect. The poems echo similar themes.
This one caught my eye, along with a small penciled note referencing the Christmas Eve homily at our church about the miracle of the incarnation:
They believe they've understood
belief in "the transcendent"by disbelieving.
Some mental feats remain
impossible even to the bestof human minds.
For Berry, science and nature are not at all the same. Science has its place, when used with humility, "subordinate and limited, dedicated to the service of things greater than itself."
He reflects on the wisdom of a fellow farmer, Wes Jackson:
"I have heard Wes say many times that 'the boundaries of causation always exceed the boundaries of consideration.' The more I have thought about that statement, the more interesting it has become. The key word is "always." Mystery, the unknown, our ignorance, will always be with us. . . The farther we extend the radius of knowledge, the larger becomes the circumference of mystery. There is, in other words, a boundary that may move somewhat, but can never be removed, between what we know and what we don't.
I found myself thinking of mystery and humility today as our church celebrated Epiphany, the feast day celebrating the journey of the magi to find the newborn king.
The record of their travels is slim: twelve verses in Matthew 2.
Were the magi magicians? Astronomers? Sorcerers? Kings? No one really knows.
Were they from Egypt? Babylon? Persia? Someplace further? There are theories, but again, no one knows.
Were there three? That number may have been prompted by the three different gifts they brought.
Was it a conjunction of planets that set them on their journey? A lunar eclipse? An unusually bright star?
Did they have camels?
Were they kings?
Here's a short summary of what's known and not known: Who were the Magi?
What I've always loved about the magi is that whoever they were, they were willing to act on what they knew while knowing there was much they didn't know.
They came in search of a king, not sure where to find him, not sure what his presence would demand. And when they found him, they fell on the ground and worshipped.
%20-%20(MeisterDrucke-42976).jpg) |
| Adoration of the Magi, Taddeo di Bartolo, Siena, ca 1400 |
It's interesting to me how closely wisdom and humility are linked. That's the case with the wise men searching the newborn child, and in the long conversation Wendell Berry documents.
It's evident in the Proverbs, my current morning reading: explicitly so in Proverbs 11:2 "When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom."
It's also clear in James 3:13: “Who is wise and understanding among you? Let them show it by their good life, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom.”
Science itself is driven by an awareness of all we do not know. I was wondering why some illnesses need only one vaccination, while others require an update every year. A 2018 article in Science reminded me of that all of science is part of the long conversation about what we know, what we don't know, what we may never know.
What if instead of lining up for a flu shot of unknown effectiveness each fall, people could receive one vaccine that protects against all strains and lasts for many years, if not for life. It could spare incalculable amounts of suffering, and even eliminate terrifying pandemics. Scientists have spent decades trying to concoct such a "universal" flu vaccine and, at times, they seem to have made solid headway. But it remains an "alchemist's dream," as one virologist declared last month at a gathering on the topic organized by the Human Vaccines Project, a nonprofit based in New York City.
An infusion of funding has boosted the research: $160 million next year from the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID) in Bethesda, Maryland, up from $60 million 2 years ago. But the effort is an exercise in humility, several leading flu researchers acknowledged at the meeting. "Every year we learn that we know less and less about this virus," says Martin Friede, a biochemist who coordinates the Initiative for Vaccine Research at the World Health Organization in Geneva, Switzerland.
The magi's journey was prompted by their study, their knowledge of the skies, but also by their longing to know more and their faith beyond their knowledge.
Science, medicine, education, farming, so much else of human enterprise, done well, is prompted in the same way. We know enough to begin to take action, but never enough to be certain of the outcome. So we study more, we learn, we pray.
I'll finish with another poem by Wendell Berry (2007):
I go by a field where once
I cultivated a few poor crops.
It is now covered with young trees,
for the forest that belongs here
has come back and reclaimed its own.
And I think of all the effort
I have wasted and all the time,
and of how much joy I took
in that failed work and how much
it taught me. For in so failing
I learned something of my place,
something of myself,and now I welcome back the trees.
