I thought I saw a butterfly,
Of all unlikely things,
Pure white against the utter black
An angel’s fragile wings
It led me on to safety
Through the darkness of the mine—
A messenger from Heaven, it
Was God’s Own Holy Sign—
A tiny little butterfly
To show His Will Divine.

It fluttered in the mineshaft
A half a mile below,
Though how it could have gotten here
I think I’ll never know;
It must have been a messenger
Sent down by God above
As a physical reminder
Of the mercy of His love
While He chose, with His omnipotence,
To give the rocks a shove.

Though He could have stopped the rockfall
And could thus be held to blame
We will marvel at His mercy
And sing praises to His name.
Let our voices rise to Heaven;
Let a joyous noise resound!
Let us praise our God, almighty,
For the butterfly we found
In the middle of the chaos
Half a mile underground.

It must be boring. Boring, that is–boring a hole half a mile down to reach the trapped Chilean miners. So we get human interest stories, rather than “yup, the drill is still progressing.” The latest human interest story seems to have some people excited and others embarrassed–it is the story of “the miners and the butterfly“.

Copiapo, Chile (CNN) — In Chile’s dry Atacama desert, folklore mixes with superstition and superstition blends with religion.

Just like, oh, pretty much everywhere else.

The story has morphed with the retelling. The original, best as I can tell, was written by Jorge Galeguillos, one of the trapped miners:

“We had been up to the workshop and as we were driving back down, a slab of rock caved in just behind us. It crashed down only a few seconds after we drove past. Just ahead I saw a white butterfly,” Galeguillos wrote in the two-page letter to his brother Eleodoro, also a miner.
“After that, we were caught in an avalanche of dirt and dust. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. The tunnel was collapsing and the rocks buried a backhoe. A water tank lower down was almost completely buried too,” he continued.

By the time the story is told around firesides (the CNN reporter tells us), the butterfly was a guardian angel, bringing the miners to safety. In the comments to the CNN piece, we see that the miners stopped to watch the butterfly, and by doing so were saved from the collapse. Note that Galeguillos specifies that the cave-in was behind them, and the butterfly ahead, such that if they had stopped to watch, they’d have been crushed, but let’s not let that get in the way of a good story.

Details are irrelevant when it comes to miracles. And isn’t it miraculous that, as rock fell around them, eventually trapping them underground (where good planning of emergency shelters–not prayer–saved them), they saw… an insect?

As we bury these books full of hatred
We notice that nobody mourns
And we wonder, though roses were planted,
Might it only grow briars and thorns?

But no–we’ll see beautiful blossoms
And the reason (it seem so, to me)
Is, the carbon long bound to this folly
Is delighted, at last, to be free

And the earth could be covered with flowers
And the world could be given a chance
If we hammer our swords into plowshares
And recycle our myths into plants

Cuttlecap tip to PZ, of course.

One Saturday morning, a beautiful day,
With nothing much better to do,
I thought I’d examine a question I had,
So I went off to visit the zoo.

The monkeys were swinging on bars in their cage—
I watched, the entire day long—
But not one of the monkeys evolved to a man;
That’s how I know Darwin was wrong.

Empirical study (like mine) has disclosed
That a theory is never a fact;
Since we never see monkeys evolve into men,
It’s time “evolution” was sacked.

With Darwin defeated, it’s time to explore
What they claim is the age of the earth;
“Tectonics” makes mountains and continents move
If the theory retains any worth.

So I hopped in the car, and I drove to the shore
With the cliffs overlooking the sea;
I watched the day long, while they moved not an inch—
The question is settled, for me!

When scientists tell me their method is best,
I agree—cos I’ve used it myself!
And I’ll take what I see with my very own eyes
Over dusty old books on the shelf.

And since monkeys are monkeys, and people are people,
And mountains are solid as stone
I’ve falsified science, and better than that,
I figured it out on my own!

Cuttlecap Tip to PZ, here.

My telephone wants my attention;

(cuttlecap tip to BlagHag) (sorry about the formatting)

Those who wish a return to the traditional values of Christmas, away from the secularization, are welcome to stay inside, draw their curtains tight and stick their noses in their bibles. I will expect them to show up at work on the 25th (as, indeed, Congress did in 1789, the first Christmas under our constitution). Myself, I will gladly take the opportunity to celebrate with Cuttlefamily and friends. We will probably feast, and may even sing–such decadence would surely have been frowned upon, even fined, by the founders of our Christian Nation (TM).

Good.

“Any entity – no matter how many tentacles it has – has a soul.”
–Guy Consolmagno, Vatican Astronomer

I have no soul; I have no spirit,
No quintessential vital force;
That subtle voice? I cannot hear it;
My life has no unearthly source.
I have no god; I have no angel,
Devil, pixie, sprite or elf;
I don’t believe that prayer for change’ll
Do more than I do myself.
I have no need for benediction;
Follow no religious creed;
Holy Books are ancient fiction—
Reality is all I need.

In the pomp and circumstance of the pope’s visit to Old Blighty, a vatican astronomer (thus, nominally, a scientist?) tells us authoritatively that aliens might have souls, and that he would be willing to baptize them, if they asked. The money quote, of course, opens this post.

Guy Consolmagno tries to puff up his scientific street cred by dissing Intelligent Design, and by demonstrating an understanding of the long odds against actual alien contact. But when it comes to the existence of something far more incredible than aliens, his true colors show:

Responding to Hawking’s recent comments that the laws of physics removed the need for God, Consolmagno said: “Steven Hawking is a brilliant physicist and when it comes to theology I can say he’s a brilliant physicist.”

oooh, burn…

Well… I can tell you, when it comes to the ensoulment of tentacular entities, Consolmagno doesn’t have a leg to stand on, let alone eight. Although it is certainly true that the tentacled are his equal when it comes to souls, it is a simple equation: 0 = 0.

Hey, BTW, I’m looking for a Thule fit kit # 151. The local store sez they don’t carry it, cos it’s obsolete. So if any of you are junking your old car and have a #151, let me know…

A physicist may be described
(to first approximation)
As a simple prolate spheroid
Of infectious obfuscation.
Attempts to oversimplify
Reveal their odd propensity
To speak of spheroid cattle
Which are uniform in density—
Their perfect planes are frictionless;
Collisions are elastic;
They’re rarely seen acknowledging
The random or stochastic.
The chaos of the world outside
May leave them full of fears;
Such terra incognita
Might be filled with… Engineers!

(Of course, in XKCD, physicists are not prolate spheroids, but lines and circles, in two dimensions. Even easier!)

A universe that’s seen as random
Frightens those who crave control—
They want a god, to walk in tandem;
Faiths arise, cos folks demand ‘em—
Comfort, really, is their goal;
Thus charismatic leaders’ fandom
Sell their brain to save their soul.

With their control in diminution
Some will act to ease the threat;
Hitting on a strange solution,
Lose their trust in evolution;
Try, instead, a different bet—
Some designer’s contribution,
Rather than a blind roulette.

But—frame selection as restricted,
Rather than as simple chance—
Now beliefs are less conflicted;
Life less random, more predicted;
Less chaotic; more a dance:
How god and science are depicted
Determines which one will advance.

(Rutjens, B. T., et al., Deus or Darwin: Randomness and belief in theories about the origin of life, Journal of Experimental Social Psychology (2010), doi:10.1016/j.jesp.2010.07.009)

Rutjens, B. T., et al. (in press) explore the contribution of control-threat (that is, the perception of a lack of control over one’s events and environment) to belief in some version of design (non-designed Darwinian Evolution vs. Intelligent Design vs the Conway-Morris restricted Evolutionary theory). Control-Threat theory suggests that when our perception of control is threatened, we look for ways to restore control; if science paints a picture that is… what’s the word? … accurate, then we may get the feeling that we are just a tiny insignificant speck, here by the most improbable of chances, in an incomprehensibly vast universe. Rather than being gobsmacked at how wonderful this is, we may instead feel tiny, insignificant, and speck-like, and cast about for ways to restore our former (ignorant and blissful) larger place in The Order Of Things.

This is where religion can come in. Rutjens, et al., though, show that the grasp for order and control need not reach toward religion. An alternative framing (that word!) of evolution (Conway-Morris, 2005) was preferred by Rutjens’s participants over intelligent design. (I find it interesting that Conway-Morris’s description of ID was “a theology for control freaks”–the freewheeling, limitless potential of evolution is presumed to be beyond the ID-believer’s comfort level, and the muttered safe-word “design” brings the needed control back.) An analysis of Conway-Morris is beyond the current post; what is important is that it was control or predictability, and not god that was craved in times of uncertainty. God just happens to be one means by which an illusion of control may be delivered.

But, hey, I can’t claim immunity; I stick to the sheltered harbor of metrical, rhymed verse, avoiding the uncertain currents and swells of real poetry. (Others stick to their favorite foods, or music, or destinations; there, I will gladly embrace the unknown!) I doubt (just a gut feeling) that Rutjens’s finding is something that is limited to one’s views on evolution, but it is nice to have this particular mosaic tile, this part of the big picture.

“We are all Americans, we stand together. I think it is absolutely important now for majority of Americans to hang onto that thing that is best in us: a belief in religious tolerance. We have to make sure we don’t start turning on each other. We are one nation under God. We may call that God different names, but we are one nation.”
President Barack Obama

I’ve always thought it more than odd
To say “One nation, under God”—
It’s laughable; it’s risible:
One thing it’s not is “indivisible”.
My president just cut me out:
My welcome here is now in doubt.
“Home of the brave”; “Land of the free”
But not the godless, can’t you see?

If common values bind us close—
Ideas, small or grandiose—
Those notions, if we care to look,
Will not be found in Holy Book
But in the Constitution’s lines,
The founders’ words, their grand designs,
Where weak or strong may both speak free,
Including godless folks like me.