God and Nature Spring 2023
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By Oné R. Pagán
In the interest of full disclosure, I must state that I consider myself a (very) hopeful agnostic (with the proverbial needle moving towards having good reasons for believing in a creator). Some of those reasons relate directly to my perspective as a professor and scientist.
Despite the best efforts of the very best minds that humanity has produced throughout all of history, we still don’t know what life is. We do not even have a definition that genuinely explains it; to me, that is part of its majesty. Because of this, one could say all known life forms are mysterious. Moreover, mystery can be thought of as a fundamental property of biological life.
Modern science tells us that microbes like bacteria are the ones that rule our planet. However, it is only recently that we have recognized that microscopic life permeates every single nook and cranny of this beloved planet of ours. From high up in the atmosphere (up to ten miles up, higher than a standard passenger plane goes) to the deepest ends of the ocean (about seven miles down), there is life everywhere!
In the interest of full disclosure, I must state that I consider myself a (very) hopeful agnostic (with the proverbial needle moving towards having good reasons for believing in a creator). Some of those reasons relate directly to my perspective as a professor and scientist.
Despite the best efforts of the very best minds that humanity has produced throughout all of history, we still don’t know what life is. We do not even have a definition that genuinely explains it; to me, that is part of its majesty. Because of this, one could say all known life forms are mysterious. Moreover, mystery can be thought of as a fundamental property of biological life.
Modern science tells us that microbes like bacteria are the ones that rule our planet. However, it is only recently that we have recognized that microscopic life permeates every single nook and cranny of this beloved planet of ours. From high up in the atmosphere (up to ten miles up, higher than a standard passenger plane goes) to the deepest ends of the ocean (about seven miles down), there is life everywhere!
I think that God has fun with biological life. |
However, historically, multicellular organisms have been the biodiversity we could see directly. Plants, animals, and fungi have kindled our sense of wonder for as long as humans have walked on this planet. It is a safe bet that if you like nature and science, your interest began with animals. This is not to say that plants or fungi are not interesting; nothing is farther from the truth! But animals are (generally) the ones that move and do things in our own time frame, grabbing our attention as they do their “thing.”
You may have taken long walks and seen some nature firsthand; for example, by taking a stroll by a pond and noticing the little critters that make childhood so precious, or by collecting bugs, with the ever-present possibility of a sting, which added some spice and a sense of adventure. However, no one has ever been able to see firsthand every living thing on our planet. Not even with access to unlimited books or nature documentaries, not even with the internet, is a single lifetime enough to learn about, let alone experience, the majesty of life in its full glory.
We are still determining exactly how many species exist right now on our planet. Scientists have described close to a million and a half, but some estimate that the actual number is in the tens of millions or more—much more. And, sadly, there is no question that many forms of life are disappearing faster than extinction would occur naturally.
As sad as this thought is, I’ll do you one better (or worse):
Think about our planet’s biodiversity in long-gone times: the immense variety of plants and animals that are no longer with us. Poignantly, this includes extinct humans. Many a young mind got interested in nature for the first time by learning about one of those long-lost life forms: dinosaurs. Some of us never outgrew them! A keen interest in dinosaurs can naturally lead to wanting to study other extinct forms of life. Just as we are not quite sure about how many species of organisms are around today, we are even less sure of how many species have disappeared forever. We do know for certain that we do not have fossil representatives of all extinct life.
The farther we go back in time, the less confident we are about our knowledge of ancient life. No matter how much we explore, no matter how much we look, many forms of life never leave fossil traces. Even if they did, many rare fossils have surely been lost forever due to the ever-active geological nature of our planet. Our best estimates say that about 99% of all life forms that ever graced our planet are extinct now, and of that 99%, we have fossil evidence of about 1%. This means that, as a first approximation, we know of less than 0.01% of all the possible species that ever lived here.
As I think about these things, I often get nostalgic for the things I never saw… and about all the things that I will never see. I want to learn what makes life tick. From the as-of-yet-undiscovered ways in which an immense variety of inanimate molecules work together to bring forth what we know as “life”… to the behavior that all life forms express, without exception. I want to experience all its awe-inspiring beauty. Sure, life is “red in tooth and claw,” with inevitable suffering, but there is also cooperation, even between species that one would not consider natural allies.
I have been thinking about these matters for a very long time. As a young boy, when I thought about heaven, I imagined that it would include the opportunity of asking God to give me an “infinite book” showing all the animals that ever lived here. Then, I grew up and learned more about nature and life—about microorganisms, plants, fungi, and more; and the more I learned, the more extensive my ideal “infinite book” became.
Over time, it was only natural that biological life became a professional interest for me. I eventually became a pharmacologist and neurobiologist and developed a keen interest in a specific kind of organism, certain flatworms with fascinating biology. However, as much as I love my worms, that longing to know everything never left me. If anything, it grew stronger.
You see:
I want to know what dinosaurs really looked like... Imagine seeing a real T. rex! (From a safe distance, of course.)
I want to see (again, from a very safe place) a saber-toothed tiger...
I want to see ... well, yes, a prehistoric flatworm...
I want to see a woolly mammoth…
I want to see… I want to see—and understand—all of life.
Moreover, I do not only think about the life we know on earth. Let’s take a quick trip to space. Can we even begin to imagine all life that likely existed and might still exist in other worlds? A billion is a big number. A billion seconds is about 32 years and change… let that sink in. Now let’s ponder this:
- There are about 100-400 billion stars in our galaxy.
- There are at least 200 billion galaxies in the observable universe (and in all likelihood, this is an underestimation).
- This means there are about 2 x 10^22 stars in the universe.
- We are reasonably sure that pretty much every star out there has at least one planet on average.
- There is some probability that quite a few of those planets will have life of their own.
- And there is the distinct possibility that our universe is just one universe out of many…
The numbers keep adding up. Boggles the mind, doesn’t it? Now, can anyone, anyone at all, grasp the true biodiversity of the (multi?) universe, past, present, and future?
I think that God has fun with biological life. Not as a puppet master or as a micromanager, but as a proud parent who delights in seeing children grow up and:
Enjoying their successes… Cringing at their mistakes… And rooting for them all the way.
I want someone to thank for my life and experiences on this beautiful planet. Along these lines, when I think about BIODIVERSITY (in all uppercase), I wish with all my heart that there is a higher power that would answer all my questions. I no longer harbor my childhood dream of owning an “infinite book of life,” as I won’t need it if a true infinite God, the only kind of God worth believing in, exists. Instead, I want to believe in the kind of God that is not a mere magician but has the incomprehensible intelligence capable of being able to make something emerge from truly nothing.
The kind of God who could imagine the natural laws that will endow that very something with the capacity to organize itself into what we recognize as life. The kind of God that imagined the natural laws that endowed that life with the capacity to evolve into countless varieties and eventually generate that equally mysterious property of consciousness.
Such a God, and only such a God, would be able to show me... everything.
If it is at all possible to annoy God, I will be the guy who does it! I will ask oh so many questions!
In conclusion, in the words of someone who loved nature as much as I do—a fellow agnostic named Charles Robert Darwin:
There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed into a few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved.
Oné R. Pagán is a husband, the father of three, and a University Professor and Scientist at the Department of Biology, West Chester University of Pennsylvania. His undergraduate degree is in General Science, and his MS is in Biochemistry, both from the University of Puerto Rico. His PhD is in Pharmacology with an emphasis on Neurobiology from Cornell University. He is the author of three books: The First Brain, Strange Survivors, and Drunk Flies and Stoned Dolphins.
You may have taken long walks and seen some nature firsthand; for example, by taking a stroll by a pond and noticing the little critters that make childhood so precious, or by collecting bugs, with the ever-present possibility of a sting, which added some spice and a sense of adventure. However, no one has ever been able to see firsthand every living thing on our planet. Not even with access to unlimited books or nature documentaries, not even with the internet, is a single lifetime enough to learn about, let alone experience, the majesty of life in its full glory.
We are still determining exactly how many species exist right now on our planet. Scientists have described close to a million and a half, but some estimate that the actual number is in the tens of millions or more—much more. And, sadly, there is no question that many forms of life are disappearing faster than extinction would occur naturally.
As sad as this thought is, I’ll do you one better (or worse):
Think about our planet’s biodiversity in long-gone times: the immense variety of plants and animals that are no longer with us. Poignantly, this includes extinct humans. Many a young mind got interested in nature for the first time by learning about one of those long-lost life forms: dinosaurs. Some of us never outgrew them! A keen interest in dinosaurs can naturally lead to wanting to study other extinct forms of life. Just as we are not quite sure about how many species of organisms are around today, we are even less sure of how many species have disappeared forever. We do know for certain that we do not have fossil representatives of all extinct life.
The farther we go back in time, the less confident we are about our knowledge of ancient life. No matter how much we explore, no matter how much we look, many forms of life never leave fossil traces. Even if they did, many rare fossils have surely been lost forever due to the ever-active geological nature of our planet. Our best estimates say that about 99% of all life forms that ever graced our planet are extinct now, and of that 99%, we have fossil evidence of about 1%. This means that, as a first approximation, we know of less than 0.01% of all the possible species that ever lived here.
As I think about these things, I often get nostalgic for the things I never saw… and about all the things that I will never see. I want to learn what makes life tick. From the as-of-yet-undiscovered ways in which an immense variety of inanimate molecules work together to bring forth what we know as “life”… to the behavior that all life forms express, without exception. I want to experience all its awe-inspiring beauty. Sure, life is “red in tooth and claw,” with inevitable suffering, but there is also cooperation, even between species that one would not consider natural allies.
I have been thinking about these matters for a very long time. As a young boy, when I thought about heaven, I imagined that it would include the opportunity of asking God to give me an “infinite book” showing all the animals that ever lived here. Then, I grew up and learned more about nature and life—about microorganisms, plants, fungi, and more; and the more I learned, the more extensive my ideal “infinite book” became.
Over time, it was only natural that biological life became a professional interest for me. I eventually became a pharmacologist and neurobiologist and developed a keen interest in a specific kind of organism, certain flatworms with fascinating biology. However, as much as I love my worms, that longing to know everything never left me. If anything, it grew stronger.
You see:
I want to know what dinosaurs really looked like... Imagine seeing a real T. rex! (From a safe distance, of course.)
I want to see (again, from a very safe place) a saber-toothed tiger...
I want to see ... well, yes, a prehistoric flatworm...
I want to see a woolly mammoth…
I want to see… I want to see—and understand—all of life.
Moreover, I do not only think about the life we know on earth. Let’s take a quick trip to space. Can we even begin to imagine all life that likely existed and might still exist in other worlds? A billion is a big number. A billion seconds is about 32 years and change… let that sink in. Now let’s ponder this:
- There are about 100-400 billion stars in our galaxy.
- There are at least 200 billion galaxies in the observable universe (and in all likelihood, this is an underestimation).
- This means there are about 2 x 10^22 stars in the universe.
- We are reasonably sure that pretty much every star out there has at least one planet on average.
- There is some probability that quite a few of those planets will have life of their own.
- And there is the distinct possibility that our universe is just one universe out of many…
The numbers keep adding up. Boggles the mind, doesn’t it? Now, can anyone, anyone at all, grasp the true biodiversity of the (multi?) universe, past, present, and future?
I think that God has fun with biological life. Not as a puppet master or as a micromanager, but as a proud parent who delights in seeing children grow up and:
Enjoying their successes… Cringing at their mistakes… And rooting for them all the way.
I want someone to thank for my life and experiences on this beautiful planet. Along these lines, when I think about BIODIVERSITY (in all uppercase), I wish with all my heart that there is a higher power that would answer all my questions. I no longer harbor my childhood dream of owning an “infinite book of life,” as I won’t need it if a true infinite God, the only kind of God worth believing in, exists. Instead, I want to believe in the kind of God that is not a mere magician but has the incomprehensible intelligence capable of being able to make something emerge from truly nothing.
The kind of God who could imagine the natural laws that will endow that very something with the capacity to organize itself into what we recognize as life. The kind of God that imagined the natural laws that endowed that life with the capacity to evolve into countless varieties and eventually generate that equally mysterious property of consciousness.
Such a God, and only such a God, would be able to show me... everything.
If it is at all possible to annoy God, I will be the guy who does it! I will ask oh so many questions!
In conclusion, in the words of someone who loved nature as much as I do—a fellow agnostic named Charles Robert Darwin:
There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed into a few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved.
Oné R. Pagán is a husband, the father of three, and a University Professor and Scientist at the Department of Biology, West Chester University of Pennsylvania. His undergraduate degree is in General Science, and his MS is in Biochemistry, both from the University of Puerto Rico. His PhD is in Pharmacology with an emphasis on Neurobiology from Cornell University. He is the author of three books: The First Brain, Strange Survivors, and Drunk Flies and Stoned Dolphins.