Save a Drowning Scorpion, Have a Heart

This is an excerpt from a lovely book called "The Language of God," by Francis Collins. Dr. Collins headed the Human Genome Project (whatever happened with that, anyway?) and he also found God after years of being an atheist. This isn't exactly a plug for finding god, but it is a plug for Dr. Collins' book, which is incredibly easy to read, and not in a bad way. I'm not done with it yet, but for now, read this passage that I particularly liked.

One of the "proofs" for God that Dr. Collins found personally satisfying was the innate "Moral Law," or urge towards altruism, that most people seem to possess. While some biologists would immediately shrug this off as the effect of evolutionary adaptability (good for the social group, good for me..in the long run), Dr. Collins does not assume this explanation precludes God.

..."First, let's be clear what we're talking about. By altruism I do not mean the "You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" kind of behavior that practices benevolence to others in direct expectation of reciprocal benefits. Altruism is more interesting: the truly selfless giving of oneself to others with absolutely no secondary motives. When we see that kind of love and generosity, we are overcome with awe and reverence. Oskar Schindler placed his life in great danger by sheltering more than a thousand Jews from Nazi extermination during World War II, and ultimately died penniless — and we feel a great rush of admiration for his actions. Mother Teresa has consistently ranked as one of the most admired individuals of the current age, though her self-imposed poverty and selfless giving to the sick and dying of Calcutta is in drastic contrast to the materialistic lifestyle that dominates our current culture.

In some instances, altruism can extend even to circumstances where the beneficiary would seem to be a sworn enemy. Sister Joan Chittister, a Benedictine nun, tells the following Sufi story.

Once upon a time there was an old woman who used to meditate on the bank of the Ganges. One morning, finishing her meditation, she saw a scorpion floating helplessly in the strong current. As the scorpion was pulled closer, it got caught in roots that branched out far into the river. The scorpion struggled frantically to free itself but got more and more entangled. She immediately reached out to the drowning scorpion, which, as soon as she touched it, stung her. The old woman withdrew her hand but, having regained her balance, once again tried to save the creature. Every time she tried, however, the scorpion's tail stung her so badly that her hands became bloody and her face distorted with pain. A passerby who saw the old woman struggling with the scorpion shouted, "What's wrong with you, fool! Do you want to kill yourself to save that ugly thing?" Looking into the stranger's eyes, she answered, "Because it is the nature of the scorpion to sting, why should I deny my own nature to save it?"

Basically, that story warmed my cold, cold heart just like it should the heart of any human possessing the innate Moral Law. Sentimental, perhaps. But it made me think (as any "sentimental" story that warms my heart does), why must sentimental things be maudlin? Why must we serious, intellectual (ha) folk laugh away that which heats the heart?

And when did God become the same as a kitten in a basket?