What do you want?

This week-end I sat on my bed reading, enjoying the time away from lab reports and quantum chemistry worksheets. Having emptied my carton of tropicana orange juice with juicy bits, I moved on to fanta orange - what a disappointment!! And yes, I do love oranges. I was left sitting there with my book wondering why I had bought fanta, what had made me think I wanted it when I was in the shop? I wanted something fruity, and the fact that the fanta bottle claimed to contain real fruit didn't help very much, it tasted fake.

Have you ever been left wanting? Having strived for something you thought you wanted, only to realise that you'd spent all that effort on something you didn't really want after all? In fact, sometimes the things we really want are the things we leave behind.

You can say many things about Invictus, it may be sugarcoated, it may be superficial, and it certainly is idealistic; but watching it gave me a warm fuzzy feeling inside. I liked the way a reporter put it: Invictus is a very pleasant and mildly stirring bowl of fettucini with a highly agreeable lead performance by Freeman. But it's not one of those ratatouille dishes that win awards and inspire raves from restaurant critics. Invictus is a movie without a personified villain, lacking excitement or twists of plot. It is, however, packed full of idealism - to the extent that I'm sure some could choke on it, yet I lapped it all up, and it reminded me of what I want.

Home

Staring through the window into the darkness I felt at peace. The headlights of oncoming traffic lit up the the road and it's immediate surroundings; the stark contrast of black on white - rocks and pine trees jutting out of the snow. Despite their cold and hostile appearance my surroundings warmed me - I was home.

As the bus drove through the falling snow I was left thinking of how everything seems to become grey as one grows older; very few things are black and white. If you asked me where home is, I'd probably say something about it being complicated, or give a simple half-truth for an answer. Most things are in fact only true to a certain extent. Science prides itself in being objective; although I could give quite a few examples, from the last few months, of my encounters with the subjectivity of science. I have lost count of the number of scientific truths I've learned, only to be told later that they in fact were gross oversimplifications. Truth is complex, it isn't simple, it still amazes me how difficult science students find defining the most basic consepts. Sure, we may be able to use laws and theories in order to perform calculations, or explain phenomena, but do we really understand them? Religious truth is no different, although there may be less calculations involved...

It is as if learning more is synonymous with the realisation that you in fact know less. Clear-cut truths are oversimplifications. Models and comparisons are great for explaining; any decent teacher uses them, but they all have their limitations. Although a fuller understanding reveals detail, and satisfies the intellect by connecing pieces one had never thought fit; it can also detract from the beauty of simple truth.

Complexity can be both beautiful and frustrating...

...as the double-decker negotiated the streets of london, I looked out through the window and felt content - I was home...

back to basics

A couple of weeks ago the Imperial College Christian Union had their annual outreach week. After much thought and deliberation I decided to give them a chance - I went to one of their meetings. I guess what caught my interest was that they were hosting the meetings in collaboration with All Souls, an evangelical church I'd heard good things about. Although I didn't go back, I never regretted going to their first meeting, it was actually really interesting.

The talk was titled Dawkins vs Jesus, is God a delusion?, which is hardly a very original title or topic, yet it was made somewhat original due to its setting. There we were, fifty or so university students, not students from any old university either - from Imperial College, the university of science geeks. It was therefore fitting that the speaker recently graduated from the sciences. His approach was to a large extent dictated by the audience - scientific, speaking about anthropic reasons for accepting God's existence, along lines similar to the likes of John Polkinghorne.

One of the points mentioned was that an atheist has no moral foot hold, nothing to base his morality on. Naturally this sort of remark provokes most reasonable people. One of the guys at my table pointed out that few people take atheistic claims to their extreme, also pointing out that most christians don't actually base their morality on solid ground either. What he said really made me think, because it is so true. One of the reasons for the multitude of christian denominations we have today, is the fact that you can make the Bible say almost anything you want. "so you base your morality on the Bible? the whole Bible?" he asked. The Christians at my table then began pointing out that society changes, and that one must consider the different genres of the Bible, thereby not placing much faith in the histicity of the book of Genesis etc...

His polite, yet still slightly mocking tone of voice when expressing his doubts about christians acutally basing their morality on the Bible has stuck with me - perhaps because what he said is so true. In fact, I'm sure his morals are in fact quite similar to mine - why then highlight our differences. C.S. Lewis does the exact opposite in Mere Christianity, arguing that it is through the universality of morals that God's existence becomes apparent. Where could this moralty, inherant to humanity across generations and civilizations, have come from, if not from the designer of the human machine himself?

I find myself tired of the intrigues and intricacies of religion, it is in mere christianity that beauty and power lies; may I never forget.