Did Brave Buffalo invent God?
I recently read a post by Kushal called “What made God?” It got me thinking again about some Native American quotes I had read, and I wanted to share them. It is often claimed that mankind invented the idea of God or gods in order to explain things they could not understand. There may be some truth to that, but I think there is more to it. I think these quotes shed interesting light on this topic. They are from the excellent collection of Native American quotes compiled by T. C. McLuhan, Touch the Earth.
“When I was ten years of age I looked at the land and the rivers, the sky above, and the animals around me and could not fail to realize that they were made by some great power. I was so anxious to understand this power that I questioned the trees and the bushes. It seemed as though the flowers were staring at me, and I wanted to ask them ‘Who made you?’.”
Tatanka-ohitika (Brave Buffalo), Sioux, 1911
“When a man does a piece of work that is admired by all we say that it is wonderful, but when we see the changes of day and night, the sun, moon, and stars in the sky, and the changing seasons upon the earth, with their ripening fruits, anyone must realize that it is the work of some one more powerful than man.”
Mato-Kuwapi (Chased-by-Bears), Sioux, pre-1915
I think that these quotes do not fit the typical explanation of man’s invention of God. I do not think that Brave Buffalo and Chased-by-Bears (an interesting name) were inventing God. These two natives do not seem to be inquiring about explanations. They seem to have an intuitive sense that there is a person behind nature. Somehow they realized that these things were made by a “Who.” It would seem that they saw some intimation of personality, a “who-ness,” in the things that are made.
This doesn’t fit the typical naturalistic explanation, but it does fit Paul’s explanation. Paul stated in his letter to the Romans: ”what may be known of God is manifest in [men], for God has shown it to them. For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead, so that they are without excuse, because, although they knew God, they did not glorify Him as God, nor were thankful, but became futile in their thoughts, and their foolish hearts were darkened (Romans 1:19-21; NKJV).”
And in Acts 14, Paul explained it this way…
“‘Men, why are you doing these things? We also are men with the same nature as you, and preach to you that you should turn from these useless things to the living God, who made the heaven, the earth, the sea, and all things that are in them, who in bygone generations allowed all nations to walk in their own ways. Nevertheless He did not leave Himself without witness, in that He did good, gave us rain from heaven and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness.’ “
So Close I Could Almost Touch It
It’s one of the advantages of being a soil scientist. Sometimes, while I’m trudging around in the woods, finding the edge of wetlands, tying flags on the trees, I get a privileged view of nature.
It snowed this morning, and so I had a day off from school. I went out to check out a site so I could give my client an estimate. I made my way slowly through the snow-laden brush. The snow was sticky, and clung to the twigs and branches. As I pushed through, the ice cracked and snow stuck to my fleece. The nice thing about snow, though: my footsteps were quiet.
I followed a small brook, meandering at first through the pines, and then rushing more quickly over rocks as the gradient steepened. I turned away from the brook to avoid the dense undergrowth. As I came around the thicket, I caught site of a young deer. Seeing a deer at close range before it sees you is rare. Usually I see their rear ends only, white flag bouncing away with a snort. Or I’ll see them leaping away at a distance.
Today was different. She stopped. I stopped. I froze, cold aluminum auger slung over my shoulder, one foot still back, ball of my foot resting on the snow.
She turned toward me and stared right at me. I didn’t blink. She sniffed the air, hoping that a scent would give her a hint. Nothing. I stayed still. I studied the young doe, framed by a frozen white web of snowy branches, her deep black eyes, large black nose, her large ears twitching, straining to hear me, reaching out for a clue. What was I?
She stomped, lifting her front hoof slowly and then thrusting it quickly straight down into the snow. It made a soft thump in the snowy leaves. She moved her head, mechanically, stiffly, up and down, like the lever on one of those old water pumps, as if she were trying to get a better angle on me. She was not 25 feet away. She stomped again, then again with the other foot.
For a minute I was worried. Was she getting ready to rush at me? Could I get out the way in time? No, she won’t rush. She’s small. Maybe a buck would rush, but not her. I guesed that she was trying to scare me, get me to move. I stayed still, but could not restrain a smile. I grinned. She must have seen me grin. Perhaps she had never seen a smile before. Her right ear turned back toward the right, maybe to hear the young deer that walked slowy behind her.
My son and I must have gone out hunting 7 times this season, and never got this close. Now she was safe. Perhaps she knew.
She turned abruptly, she must have caught my scent, and she walked away slowly after two other deer. I walked slowly up to the spot where she had stood, and studied her tracks, snow pressed into translucent pointed shapes. There were lots of hoof prints where she had stomped. Tracks have always fascinated me: records left behind, imprinted on the earth. It was especially fascinating to study them so soon after they were made. Time becomes so real. The past. It’s strange.
It was a treat. So beautiful to see her so close. She was so marvelously made. More than chemistry. Surely more than chemistry.
Red Eft
Here is a picture of a beautiful red eft, a stage in the life cycle of the eastern newt. This picture was taken last summer at the top of Mt. Monadnock in southern New Hampshire by the side of a pool of water in the granite.
What is it about we humans that attrcats us to such things? Why are we attracted to such beauty? Things like this seem to speak to something deep within us. They seem to speak of something larger and deeper than scientific descriptions. Awe and wonder. The sublime.
No, says the naturalistic scientist or philosopher, these feelings are just chemical reactions in your cells, reactions that create the illusion of something more, something more than atoims and molecules and electromagnetism. But that is all they are, says the stoic scientist. Feelings of awe and wonder at sublime beauty are nothing more than chemistry molded and shaped by millions of years of purposeless physical processes. Go ahead and imagine that there is something more if that pleases you.
But what if there is something more? What if these feelings are not just tricks that evolution has played on us?
