"Daddy, why did Jesus invent butterflies if they die after two weeks?"
I just about hit the panic button when my six-year-old son Theo put this question to me not long ago. His mother, who is a Christian, had taught him that Jesus was God. When Jesus's visage appears in a painting or on television, Theo sometimes exclaims, "That's God!" In his butterfly question he seemed to reason, syllogistically, that if Jesus was God, and God created the world and its life forms (butterflies being one of them), Jesus "invented" the winged creatures. Either that or God and Jesus are simply interchangeable in his mind.
Less as a Christian and more as a parent and spouse, I'm uncomfortable with his response, which follows immediately.
"First, Theo, your question presumes that Jesus was God," I responded. "Many people, like mommy, believe he was, but many others don't. It also presumes that there is a God - we don't know for sure that there is." "I think there is," he retorted. "There may very well be a God, Theo. But not everyone agrees on that - there are many people who doubt there is a God. We might never know for sure if there is or not," I told him. "When we die we'll know," he came back. "Maybe," I said. "But maybe not."
As a parent, I wonder about attempting to change the subject with a six-year-old (and, yes, I'm well aware that there is a wide range of cognitive ability among six year old children; in general, though, most will see this as a dodge to a very serious question). As a spouse, I'm wary of attempting a new framing which pits one parents' set of beliefs against another's. Down that way lies nothing but trouble.
Since we live in a household rooted in faith, but without any fear of questions, this kind of thing is not exactly unknown. While I respect Postel's wishes, in respect to his own suspicions concerning religious belief, to inculcate in his children a certain - how can I put this - critical perspective, the question Theo asked already contains that perspective. It seems to me, implicit in such a question is the thought, "Hey, wait a cotton-picking-minute here! These butterflies are beautiful, and useful, and they only live two freakin' weeks? How is that any way to run a railroad, let alone an entire universe?"
Here's a thought. Rather than attempt a theological disputation on the question of God's existence, I might have asked Theo why this question. What is it, specifically, about the life-span of butterflies that made him wonder about the role of Divine Providence and Creation (OK, so I wouldn't have used those words, but I hope you understand where I'm going with this). If Theo was asking the question on a functional level - did God maybe figure that butterflies lived out their lives in such a short time span in order to fill a role, becoming superfluous once that was accomplished - then it is an opportunity to advance an understanding of the mystery of life, with or without regard to a religious frame of reference. If Theo was asking a question regarding theodicy - the justice and fairness of creating something so aesthetically pleasing as well as practically useful that was so limited in its life span - it would be a good way to open up a conversation on what he, Theo, thinks "fair" would be in this instance.
Both cases - functional and juridical - seem to me to float around an understanding of things such as butterflies as having a value beyond the bare natural value of pollinator and food source. If, as seems to me, implicit in Theo's question is the idea that things like flowers and butterflies and other parts of the natural world exist for us, this also would be an opportunity to begin talking about the ways butterflies, in this instance, are their own creature, existing for themselves, without reference to any extrinsic meaning added to them by human beings. Respect for the natural world begins when we cease to see it as a source of human fulfillment; opening up this avenue, whether in a religious or non-religious framework, is an important part of educating a child.
Finally, the idea that it is necessary to counter religious "indoctrination" is absurd on its face. Most young people raised in a church drop out at some point as they get older, many for reasons having to do with the perceived hypocrisy of self-professed Christians, or the seeming absurdity of many of the claims made in the Christian faith. Should Postel worry that his children might reject some kind of robust humanism due to religious instruction, he should remember, first, there is a long tradition of humanism with religious roots, particularly in the Roman Catholic Church (think Erasmus and even, despite his zealotry, Ignatius Loyola). There are also many people of deep and abiding faith who nevertheless refuse to subsume their own penchant for asking pointed questions due to the dogmatic insistence of authority. Whether the examples are Roman Catholic or Protestant, Jewish or Muslim, there are many people who refuse to rest easy either in the serene comforts of religious dogmatism or the self-imposed, Dionysian heroism of skeptical humanism.
Give your children some credit, and provide them with a space to ask questions, and the opportunity to find their own answers. Be content that the answers they find are probably always provisional. More important, remember the answers are theirs and no one else's.
