Caterpillars
Jun 4th, 2007 by Glenn
When I was a kid I tortured caterpillars for fun. I would hunt for them in the bushes in front of my house. Then I would put them in my dog’s water dish “for a swim.”
I would hunch over on hands and knees, eagerly monitoring every flailing wriggle, every feeble attempt for survival.
If the caterpillar happened to find strength and skill enough to swim to the edge and grip onto the rim I would let it. I would watch it start to pull itself out of the water and I get it’s hopes up as its head reached up over the rim. I would chuckle to myself – it thinks it is really in control. And at the moment where I expected it to be feeling the greatest elation, I would flick it mercilessly back into the water and watch it start to struggle all over again and we would repeat the process.
Eventually the caterpillar would lose its strength and sink motionless to the bottom. I was not without mercy in those moments. My heart would go out to the poor caterpillar and I would reach in and gently pull it out (careful not to squish it because as cool as the green guts were, I didn’t really want them on my fingers). I would carefully and lovingly lay it down and stretch it out on the dry sidewalk. While I didn’t exactly give it mouth-to-mouth, I did gently blow air towards its head in an attempt to resuscitate it. I loved watching the motion come back – first the slightest movement, barely perceptible – and then it would regain its strength and start hightailing it for the safety of the green grass. And I would watch it, and smile. It thinks it is really in control. And just as it reached the grass I would pick it up and put it back in the water.
Torturing caterpillars could entertain me for hours. Sometimes the caterpillar would just get worn out and no amount of resuscitation could bring it back. In those moments I held a proper funeral and gave a respectful moment of silence before going out and hunting for another one. Other times it would survive a few rounds and I would release it back to the bush where I had found it, quite pleased with myself for providing it some incredible stories to tell its caterpillar family and friends that night. In my mind those caterpillars were stronger for their suffering, and I expected they made the prettiest butterflies.
I recently heard someone who I respect a great deal talk about his disillusionment with the idea of the atonement. His argument was that we are flawed and prone to sin because that is how God made us, so why should we be so miserable and feel so much guilt about that? It’s not really our doing, it is God’s. And if God made us all imperfect and placed us in this imperfect mortal sphere, why should we be so thankful that he condescends to bring us out of it? Isn’t that just the proper thing for him to do? Why do we act like it is this great and wonderful sacrifice? He’s the one who put us in this mess to begin with.
This point of view and the passion and repulsion this person conveyed when he expressed it left me feeling a little sad. It’s not how I see the atonement, but I think he has a valid argument, and I feel like I understand it. It’s what I used to do to the caterpillars.
In our religious worldview, is this how we perceive what God does to us? Are we like caterpillars that are placed in impossible situations? Do we struggle to survive only to be flicked back into turmoil and presented with perilous trial after perilous trial? Are we eventually pulled out and lovingly resuscitated after all that we can do? If so, how should we feel towards this being who is doing this? Should we be thankful and think of this as wonderful or resentful and dismiss this out of hand as the sort of thing a just and loving God would do? Tell me what you think.
I am reminded of a quote from an old Soul Asylum song “We’ll create the cure, we made the disease.”
You do realize the blood of those caterpillars (or the insect equivalent to blood) will be on your hands at the judgment day? We must not waste them or hunt them for sport. Torture is not sanctioned by the plan of salvation!
My own experiments involved snails and lighter fluid. There were never any survivors.
But, um, anyway, no that’s not my view of the Atonement at all. I don’t even think that God “made” us exactly. I think he “elevated” us from the lesser state of consciousness that “intelligences” have to the higher state of “spirits.” Then he helped us get born into mortal bodies so we can eventually reach the even higher state of “souls.” We couldn’t do this without the Atonement. So why not be grateful?
(Glenn, I found the buttons for links and quotes! hooray!)
This post just further complicates my understanding of the atonement. I’ve read a few threads on New Cool Thang about different theories of the atonement, and it’s made the concept a lot more complicated for me. Thinking of us as catepillars, opens another can of worms, so to speak.
For me, I guess the catepillar analogy breaks down as we compare Glenn to God. Or rather, Glenn’s motives (entertainment) to God’s motives, which although I can’t know, I can hope are slightly better. So, maybe we are catepillars in a dog’s water dish, but maybe we’re not. And if we are, I hope that we’re really here to learn how to swim.
Kuri,
My experience with snails had to do with buckets and nickles (I would wake up in the morning and collect as many snails as I could find and take them to school to sell them to children who didn’t have pets). Are you the kid who kept buying them in mass with that strange smile on your face? Booker T Washington Elementary school, Mesa, Arizona.
So tell me more about this siritual evulotion you are suggesting. I grew up with the belief that God created our spirit bodies from the intelligence, but those spirits were “perfect” in a sense — perfect enough to dwell in the presence of God — and we “kept the first estate” whic always seemed like a perfection-like achievment — a perfect obedienc I guess. So when we came into mortality, it was a step down. We even had to go through the “veil of forgetfulness” so we couldn’t fall back on our memories of the first estate and whatever degree of perfection/glory we had there. Is that consistent with your view?
Jessawhy,
Great, now I have guilt. I only like to complicate people’s testimonies when I am teaching Gospel Doctrine — but I can always end those classes with a faith affirming thought and prayer and make them think they actually felt the spirit and might actually have gotten something out of the meeting (I wonder why they don’t let me do that anymore…)
So why is it complicated to you? What do you think is God’s motivation for doing what he does? Do you believe that God causes our suffering? Do you beleive he is responsible for our suffering, because he — in his perfect knowledge — put us here in a place of suffering? Do you believe that he wants us to suffer? Is suffering part of his big picture plan?
(Don’t reach for the swatter, that buzzing you hear is just the gadfly at work).
Brother Goode (#2),
I applaud your efforts, but don’t waste your breath. This one is hopeless. His response to me was “chill out Steve, I wasn’t even eight yet” as if the waters of baptism could wash off so heinous a crime.
I’m with you, though, brother. It makes me wonder why he was even allowed to go on a mission or get married in the temple. I doubt he ever brought up his caterpillar crimes in his Ecclesiastical interviews, and we all know where liars go.
You will see those caterpillars again Brother Glenn, and this time they will be looking at you with a grin saying “And he thinks he is in charge” and instead of the dog’s dish being filled with water, it will be full of some kind of liquified fire and brimstone and they will flick you into it over and over and over again. And in that day you will be very very sorry (but too bad, it will be too late).
Um, did you just call yourself Steve?
Glenn,
I’ve never thought of spirits as “perfect,” exactly. Maybe “pure,” but not perfect. I think we almost all had weaknesses there. Here, those weaknesses can become sins, but I think generally we brought the weaknesses with us. And one of the points of coming to this world is that it’s a better place to overcome or at least improve on our weaknesses. And the Atonement helps us do that.
Kuri - what kind of weaknesses do you mean? I usually think of them as being more natural man tendencies — weaknesses of the flesh that the spirit tries to overcome. I’ve never thought of spirit weaknesses like that before.
Glenn,
Just about anything seems complicated for me today. It has been a hard day. I’m 18 weeks pregnant and knew when I concieved that I’d have a 25% chance of having a child with a lifelong chronic illness. Today we had our ultrasound and along with the news that we’ll have our 3rd son, the chances of this illness are now are 50/50. (both of our sons have it). So, the questions about suffering are very real to me right now. I wish I knew the answer, or even a vague belief, but I’m just empty of ideas. Life is as it is and it’s nice to think that Someone who knows more is guiding the ship, but it’s also just as likely that we’re here largely on our own to deal with a variety of different circumstances, with God watching from the distance. I’m inclined to think, at least today, that God is really hand’s-off.
Jessawhy, I wish I knew what to say.
For what it’s worth, my experience also leads me to believe that God usually keeps his distance. Occasionally though, very occasionally, He surprises me, and that keeps me going. I hope that this will be your experience, too.
I wish you all the best with your pregnancy. Your children, whatever their physical limitations may be, are certainly lucky to have you for a mother.
Thanks, Mark IV.
It’s really not the end of the world, my boys are fine, no one who met them would even know they have a chronic illness. Sometimes things just seem harder than they really are. Tomorrow I will have a better perspective. I really appreciate your thoughts.
Ben,
I think there are weaknesses of the spirit as well as weaknesses of the flesh. The flesh can make our spirits weaker — e.g., “fatigue makes cowards of us all” as Vince Lombardi put it — but I don’t think that it is the source of all sin. For example, I’d say that while lust, gluttony, and maybe sloth are sins of the flesh, greed, wrath, envy, and pride are sins of the spirit.
Wow — this brings up such an interesting worldview question about the ways we distinguish between things that are spritiual and things that are of the flesh. I can hear one of my atheist friends in my head right now (not literally) saying that mental and/or emotional functions (i.e. greed, wrath, envy, pride) are as much a product of our “flesh” as the physical things that you mention. We’re all just a big bunch of chemicals. That’s what he would say, at least.
Of course, one of the premises of this discussion is that “spirits” actually exist. Without that premise, I’d probably say something similar to what your atheist friend would.
Anyway, in this case, I’m basing my ideas on what I think a spirit can do. I think we have the example of Lucifer experiencing greed (”Give me the glory”), wrath (”and the second was angry and kept not his first estate”), probably envy of Christ, and pride in putting himself forward to be the savior and to change Heavenly Father’s plan, so I believe that those are all things that a spirit could do even without a body.
OTOH, I’m not sure that premortal spirits are capable of lust or gluttony, because they’ve never experienced the physical aspects of them.
Kuri, Are you familiar with the Enochian tradition of “The Watchers?” This was a group of angels assigned to watch over the earth. They lusted after the daughters of men. They (the “sons of God”) rebelled and co-inhabited with mortal women. Their children were giants. They caused so much wickedness in the world that God sent a flood to destroy and cleanse the Earth – enter Noah (or Steve Carell, take your pick)
Of course this is a different understanding of “angels” or “spirits” than we subscribe to in Mormon tradition, but there are still traces of the story in the KJV of the Bible. Compare the Pseudepigrapha text to Genesis 6:
Pseudepigrapha:
Genesis 6:
I question whether the “sons of God” in this case could actually experience lust. I think envy would be more possible. Something along the likes of “Those mortals sure seem to enjoy that stuff. I want to do it too.” Come to think of it, isn’t envy of the body one of the purported motives of demonic possession?
Jessawhy (#11),
While I can’t claim to understand how it feels to be in the situation you are in, I do understand how it feels to imagine a distant God who watches us from the sidelines without getting too involved (and to add to that, I understand how it feels to think “I’ve done what I am supposed to do — I’m a good person — why is this trial happening to me?”).
I often struggle with questions of divine intervention — does God really get involved? Does he really protect us from danger? Is he really there to comfort us in our times of need, or is that just our own imagination making us feel better about a difficult situation — have we just been conditioned to manufacture it? I don’t have any good answers to this. But, even if it is just our imagination, if it really makes us feel better, is that such a bad thing?
Unfortunately, once you start to consider that that it might be imagination, it’s hard to talk yourself back into completely believing that it is from God. But, as Mark IV mentioned, every once in a while the Lord surprise me, too. I go along thinking that he is far, distant — that he does not really have a plan for me — that my patriarchal blessing is just a lot of self-fulfilling-prophesy wish-fulfillment — and then I will have an experience that feels genuine and real. Of course as soon as I start to doubt it — which I too frequently do — the experience loses a lot of its “ooomph” — but not enough that I am ever completely certain that it was only imagined.
One way I resolve this — and this may be very insensitive and naïve — is to believe that suffering is ultimately more important than God making it all better for us. It’s one of the reasons I don’t like the “footprints” poem (but really like “buttprints“).
Anyway, I wish you all the best.