Some people need religion. Others don’t.
One problem I’ve always had with religion is that the various religions and denominations of religions have become “mega-cliques.” Those who need religion and have chosen one tend to think everybody needs it, and that their chosen religion is the right one.
But religion is not a one-size-fits-all garment. Not everyone’s needs are the same, and those disparate needs cannot all be met by the same religion. That’s probably why there are so many.
I have recently had sort of an epiphany with regards to religion and God. No, God didn’t “speak” to me as others have claimed. And I didn’t run into a burning bush or get struck by lightning.
I contemplate a lot about religion. And there are a few things I’ve figured out. For one thing, I think the world, as a whole, would be better off today if religion had never existed.
Granted, religion provides a lot of comfort and hope for a huge number of people. So it can’t be all bad. People need comfort and hope. Some also need the social aspects of religion – meeting in church each Sunday morning and attending other church-related social events.
But if socializing were all religion was about, there are other ways to accomplish the same thing. What people really need is not religion, but spirituality. There is a difference.
Spirituality can also provide comfort and hope. Spirituality can bring people together; religion often tears people apart. Did God really intend to be the cause of more wars and loss of life than any other single reason?
I learned a long time ago that I don’t know what God thinks or how He works. Neither does anyone else. The problem with religion is that its subscribers believe they have it figured out and that everyone else should listen to them.
Religion also lends itself to the concept of worship. We gather together to worship God in church.
The epiphany I mentioned above is this: God doesn’t want people to worship him. He wants people to love him, to respect him, and to acknowledge his existence. But worship is a man-made creation. It is not divine.
I say these things knowing full well that I have already stated that I don’t know what God thinks. But it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me that God would have created beings for the express purpose of worshipping him. Is he that egomaniacal and vain that he would have to create an entire species of life to worship him?
If you are a parent, do you want your children to worship you? No, you want them to love and respect you. You want them to grow up to be high achievers. You want them to be successful, but to always remember that you helped them over the hurdles of life.
Maybe God just wants the same thing for us all. He allowed us to evolve intelligence. It would only make sense that he wants us to develop it and use it, not to live our lives based on millennia-old biblical superstitions.
We are the only animals capable of understanding ourselves. We are the only ones who can contemplate our own mortality.
For that reason, centuries ago, people needed to comfort themselves about their mortality. So they invented religion. The ancient pagans invented various and sundry gods that were in charge of different aspects of their lives. They invented worship.
Those who chose to believe in the God of Abraham picked up on the worship aspect of religion from those pagans. And, throughout the centuries, styles of worship evolved into the various sacraments of Christianity.
The bottom line is that religion and worship are human inventions. Neither will grant anyone a pass into whatever afterlife there may be.
Spirituality, on the other hand, which is the most deeply personal form of faith, is what may bring our souls closer to everlasting peace and comfort. At the very least, it could bring peace on earth, something that religion has failed miserably to do.
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Thursday, January 20, 2005
Extending Life
One of my favorite lines of dialogue in a TV show or movie took place in the first episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Data, the android, was escorting Doctor Leonard "Bones" McCoy down the hallway of the starship while making casual conversation about the doctor's extreme age. He was 132.
After Data mentioned his age, Bones uttered one of his characteristic acerbic remarks, which prompted Data to ask if the subject of his age was troubling to him. Bones then replies, "Troubling? What's so troubling about not having died?"
When the oldest people on record seldom live beyond the ripe old age of 120, someone in his 130s may seem quite ancient. But the voyages of Star Trek are supposed to be taking place more than 300 years into the future. It struck me that Bones, at 132, should certainly have been thought of as a senior citizen, but not as particularly noteworthy because of his age.
I would hope that, by then, people will routinely live 150 to 200 years, perhaps longer. After all, life expectancies are gradually inching upward and have been every decade for at least 100 years.
The aging process has always fascinated doctors and scientists. Why do our bodies deteriorate as they age? After all, we grow a whole new set of cells every few months, so it's not like our bodies are composed of the same cells we had when we were born. The cells themselves mature, age, die, and are replaced. So why does the body as a whole deteriorate?
Some research has pointed to a likely culprit in the aging process: free radicals. These are the nasty remnants of the body's metabolic processes, the waste products of living that accumulate in our tissues and wreak havoc on our system.
They will combine with almost any tissue they come in contact with, altering it in the process. They destroy tissue, cause cancer, and are generally rather destructive. And there is nothing that can prevent their manufacture in the body as by-products of our metabolism.
There is, however, a way to "mop them up" before they can do much damage. Scientists have learned that the ingestion of substances known as antioxidants can react with these free radicals and allow them to be harmlessly excreted from the body.
Research involving roundworms shows that the life spans of these tiny creatures can be easily doubled by injecting them with powerful antioxidants. And they don't seem to simply live longer, but they seem to remain active during their extended maturity, too.
Of course, it is quite a leap from the lowly nematode to a human being. But the science is still the same. It should also, theoretically, work with humans.
The time may not be too far off when we can, if we choose, take a pill a day to extend our lives well past 100. And there is no reason to believe that those future centenarians will be feeble. Extending life does not necessarily mean extending the feeblest time of life. It may mean extending that period of life we call middle age. Being old and feeble will last no longer than it already does, it will just be pushed several years into the future.
It's true that there are negative aspects of extending the human life span. The earth is already becoming overpopulated. Making it possible for humans to routinely live to be 150 or 200 years old will probably aggravate the overpopulation problem. But that is something to be addressed separately. No matter how old we live to be, producing only two children per couple will still produce a stable population.
At any rate, I certainly am willing to give this life-extending technology a try, should it ever come to fruition. I want to live long enough to see if we can ever really develop Star-Trek-style matter transporters. I've always had a fear of flying. But once the technology is perfected, I might could stand to be "beamed."
After Data mentioned his age, Bones uttered one of his characteristic acerbic remarks, which prompted Data to ask if the subject of his age was troubling to him. Bones then replies, "Troubling? What's so troubling about not having died?"
When the oldest people on record seldom live beyond the ripe old age of 120, someone in his 130s may seem quite ancient. But the voyages of Star Trek are supposed to be taking place more than 300 years into the future. It struck me that Bones, at 132, should certainly have been thought of as a senior citizen, but not as particularly noteworthy because of his age.
I would hope that, by then, people will routinely live 150 to 200 years, perhaps longer. After all, life expectancies are gradually inching upward and have been every decade for at least 100 years.
The aging process has always fascinated doctors and scientists. Why do our bodies deteriorate as they age? After all, we grow a whole new set of cells every few months, so it's not like our bodies are composed of the same cells we had when we were born. The cells themselves mature, age, die, and are replaced. So why does the body as a whole deteriorate?
Some research has pointed to a likely culprit in the aging process: free radicals. These are the nasty remnants of the body's metabolic processes, the waste products of living that accumulate in our tissues and wreak havoc on our system.
They will combine with almost any tissue they come in contact with, altering it in the process. They destroy tissue, cause cancer, and are generally rather destructive. And there is nothing that can prevent their manufacture in the body as by-products of our metabolism.
There is, however, a way to "mop them up" before they can do much damage. Scientists have learned that the ingestion of substances known as antioxidants can react with these free radicals and allow them to be harmlessly excreted from the body.
Research involving roundworms shows that the life spans of these tiny creatures can be easily doubled by injecting them with powerful antioxidants. And they don't seem to simply live longer, but they seem to remain active during their extended maturity, too.
Of course, it is quite a leap from the lowly nematode to a human being. But the science is still the same. It should also, theoretically, work with humans.
The time may not be too far off when we can, if we choose, take a pill a day to extend our lives well past 100. And there is no reason to believe that those future centenarians will be feeble. Extending life does not necessarily mean extending the feeblest time of life. It may mean extending that period of life we call middle age. Being old and feeble will last no longer than it already does, it will just be pushed several years into the future.
It's true that there are negative aspects of extending the human life span. The earth is already becoming overpopulated. Making it possible for humans to routinely live to be 150 or 200 years old will probably aggravate the overpopulation problem. But that is something to be addressed separately. No matter how old we live to be, producing only two children per couple will still produce a stable population.
At any rate, I certainly am willing to give this life-extending technology a try, should it ever come to fruition. I want to live long enough to see if we can ever really develop Star-Trek-style matter transporters. I've always had a fear of flying. But once the technology is perfected, I might could stand to be "beamed."
Monday, January 17, 2005
Adding Machines
I had eaten lunch at a Steak ‘n’ Shake restaurant the other day when I noticed a mistake on the ticket. The waitress had charged me full price for my shake, even though I was supposed to have gotten it at a reduced price with a platter combination.
I told her about the mistake and she apologized and asked me to tell the cashier before I paid the ticket.
When I was ready to check out, I informed the young lady at the cash register about the mistake and she seemed a little puzzled. She had to call her manager over to explain how to subtract the extra amount charged.
I watched as the manager showed her the steps. The instructions went something like this: “First you push this button to let the computer know there’s a coupon. Then push this button for the shake and then push here to get the right price for a platter shake. Then let’s go back and take off the wrong price by pushing here and then here.” Huh?
It’s no wonder the employee didn’t know what to do. It would take weeks of training to learn the intricacies of the Steak ‘n’ Shake cash register.
As most people who read this column know, I love technology and computers. But in some cases, what is meant to make our lives faster and easier just makes them much more complex.
Return with me now to those less than thrilling days of yesteryear when restaurants and grocery stores were equipped with adding machines. That’s right; they had adding machines, not computers, to figure out your bill.
Of course, even in my youth, most supermarkets had electrically-powered cash registers. The old Jay-C store, when it was located in the building that is now the police department, had cash registers with electric motors. When the cashier pushed the large “add” button, the motor would spin and whir and the price of the item would mechanically pop up on the display.
And if she made a mistake, she would just key in the price again and push the subtract button.
Shelby Avenue Market had an even lower-tech adding machine. As a neighborhood kid, I bought most of my goodies (and sold most of my pop bottles) at the store we just called “Ralph’s.”
But when we bought multiple items, Ralph would enter the price of each onto the keypad of his adding machine, and then he would pull a crank that made the gears in the machine add the price to the previous price. To get the total, he would hold down on another button and pull the lever at the same time.
In Elmer Rice’s play called “The Adding Machine,” set in the 1920s, there is a dispirited accountant named Mr. Zero who fantasizes about adding machines of the future. In it, he dreams he might one day, “sit in the gallery of a coal mine and operate the super-hyper-adding machine with the great toe of my right foot.”
It wasn’t being operated by anyone’s toe, but the very first time I saw an electronic cash register that allowed the cashier to push a button with the name of the item on it instead of having to key in the price was at, yes, Steak ‘n’ Shake. It was sometime in the mid-1970s in Indianapolis.
I was surprised and quite impressed with this new-fangled “super-hyper” adding machine. It even printed out what I had ordered on my receipt.
Of course, these days, nearly all stores have code-reading laser scanners to read the prices. And the receipts have all the details anyone might need, include the item name, the date, time, who your cashier was, and how much you saved with coupons. I’m surprised they don’t tell your fortune as well.
They are great pieces of technology for the consumer. The trouble is, unlike the old adding machines, they have a pretty big learning curve for the people who have to run them.
I told her about the mistake and she apologized and asked me to tell the cashier before I paid the ticket.
When I was ready to check out, I informed the young lady at the cash register about the mistake and she seemed a little puzzled. She had to call her manager over to explain how to subtract the extra amount charged.
I watched as the manager showed her the steps. The instructions went something like this: “First you push this button to let the computer know there’s a coupon. Then push this button for the shake and then push here to get the right price for a platter shake. Then let’s go back and take off the wrong price by pushing here and then here.” Huh?
It’s no wonder the employee didn’t know what to do. It would take weeks of training to learn the intricacies of the Steak ‘n’ Shake cash register.
As most people who read this column know, I love technology and computers. But in some cases, what is meant to make our lives faster and easier just makes them much more complex.
Return with me now to those less than thrilling days of yesteryear when restaurants and grocery stores were equipped with adding machines. That’s right; they had adding machines, not computers, to figure out your bill.
Of course, even in my youth, most supermarkets had electrically-powered cash registers. The old Jay-C store, when it was located in the building that is now the police department, had cash registers with electric motors. When the cashier pushed the large “add” button, the motor would spin and whir and the price of the item would mechanically pop up on the display.
And if she made a mistake, she would just key in the price again and push the subtract button.
Shelby Avenue Market had an even lower-tech adding machine. As a neighborhood kid, I bought most of my goodies (and sold most of my pop bottles) at the store we just called “Ralph’s.”
But when we bought multiple items, Ralph would enter the price of each onto the keypad of his adding machine, and then he would pull a crank that made the gears in the machine add the price to the previous price. To get the total, he would hold down on another button and pull the lever at the same time.
In Elmer Rice’s play called “The Adding Machine,” set in the 1920s, there is a dispirited accountant named Mr. Zero who fantasizes about adding machines of the future. In it, he dreams he might one day, “sit in the gallery of a coal mine and operate the super-hyper-adding machine with the great toe of my right foot.”
It wasn’t being operated by anyone’s toe, but the very first time I saw an electronic cash register that allowed the cashier to push a button with the name of the item on it instead of having to key in the price was at, yes, Steak ‘n’ Shake. It was sometime in the mid-1970s in Indianapolis.
I was surprised and quite impressed with this new-fangled “super-hyper” adding machine. It even printed out what I had ordered on my receipt.
Of course, these days, nearly all stores have code-reading laser scanners to read the prices. And the receipts have all the details anyone might need, include the item name, the date, time, who your cashier was, and how much you saved with coupons. I’m surprised they don’t tell your fortune as well.
They are great pieces of technology for the consumer. The trouble is, unlike the old adding machines, they have a pretty big learning curve for the people who have to run them.
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