In line at the Starbucks the other day I overheard one middle-aged, middle-class mother gravely opine into her cell phone, "I oppose growth on B---- Island, and so do my kids." She got her coffee and drove off alone in her Expedition.
It seems to me that if fundamentalist zealots really wanted to chalk up points for intelligent design, they would cite as their primary example not the human body but rather the anatomy of spacetime. As complicated, wondrous, and improbably suitable we find ourselves, our meager complexity absolutely pales before that of empty space.
And yet, I have yet to find anybody whom, in earnest pursuit of pure science, has not been regularly troubled, awed, and humbled by what they have found.
If pressed to produce what I felt to be the most incontrovertible proof of the existence of a creator, it would have to be the complete lack of incriminatory evidence -- the pristine prooflessness of this, the scene of the crime. "Here is where the perpetrator or perpetrators of this heinous crime likely made their getaway," I would say, pointing at Exhibit A, a full-page color glossy photograph of Gödel's Incompleteness Theorem.
I find that if I give enough nonproveable replies to somebody who asks unanswerable questions, they generally go away and I can get back to work. I have no qualms about too-simple people thinking I am difficult.
Given the choice between a stronger sense of faith and a stronger sense of wonder, I'll take wonder every time.
The sun rode uncontested across the sky for the first time in months today ! I'm as protective of my delicate, vampiric complexion as anybody else, but I have to say that it was a joy to behold.