Having been brought up in a maritime city like Glasgow, one inevitably looks outward. And yet, where we travel, determines who we are inwardly.
I’m crossing over to the Island of Bute on the MV Bute. I’m reading a fascinating philosophical thought experiment named The Ship of Theseus, first proposed by Plutarch. Theseus, the mythological hero, sailed from Greece to slay the Minotaur. With job done, he returned to Athens and left the ship to decay. In the course of time, carpenters came along and gradually replaced each plank of the ship until it was renewed. It raises the question, which ship is The Ship of Theseus; the new one, or the parts rotting on the beach?
Our bodies are not dissimilar to that paradox. Red cells form, embark on an arduous journey of grand rapids, proportionally life-threatening obstacles of matter as they brave the half million nautical miles of arteries, veins, and capillaries only to sail into oblivion after their two-month voyage.
Skin cells decay, leading to weakening avalanches and shifting continental plates. They fall from their plateaus, aided by cascading water gravitationally driving them towards terminal anti-clockwise whirlpools before their second day ends.
Estimates differ, but it is suggested, that the body replaces itself every seven to ten years. Like Plutarch’s thought experiment, questions of identity and thoughts of eternity are raised as I ponder on the body’s self-renewal mechanism.
But here is the paradox: Some neurons, those cells that drive the brain, stay with us throughout life.
Although I’m a few years from 70, there’s a young man living inside me. I can call him up at any time and visit the places he visited. And meet the people he met. And share the joys he had. This convinces me of an action that God took before I was born: The act of human consciousness. Science does not have an answer to this immaterial inner life that exists in each one of us.
He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in their hearts, yet so that man can’t find out the work that God has done from the beginning even to the end. Ecclesiastes 3: 11.
The Non-Theist Quandary Part Three: The Ship of Theseus
"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in their hearts”.
Ecclesiastes 3: 11.
Image taken by https://unsplash.com/@anetek
Having been brought up in a maritime city like Glasgow, one inevitably looks outward. And yet, where we travel, determines who we are inwardly.
I’m crossing over to the Island of Bute on the MV Bute. I’m reading a fascinating philosophical thought experiment named The Ship of Theseus, first proposed by Plutarch. Theseus, the mythological hero, sailed from Greece to slay the Minotaur. With job done, he returned to Athens and left the ship to decay. In the course of time, carpenters came along and gradually replaced each plank of the ship until it was renewed. It raises the question, which ship is The Ship of Theseus; the new one, or the parts rotting on the beach?
Our bodies are not dissimilar to that paradox. Red cells form, embark on an arduous journey of grand rapids, proportionally life-threatening obstacles of matter as they brave the half million nautical miles of arteries, veins, and capillaries only to sail into oblivion after their two-month voyage.
Skin cells decay, leading to weakening avalanches and shifting continental plates. They fall from their plateaus, aided by cascading water gravitationally driving them towards terminal anti-clockwise whirlpools before their second day ends.
Estimates differ, but it is suggested, that the body replaces itself every seven to ten years. Like Plutarch’s thought experiment, questions of identity and thoughts of eternity are raised as I ponder on the body’s self-renewal mechanism.
But here is the paradox: Some neurons, those cells that drive the brain, stay with us throughout life.
Although I’m a few years from 70, there’s a young man living inside me. I can call him up at any time and visit the places he visited. And meet the people he met. And share the joys he had. This convinces me of an action that God took before I was born: The act of human consciousness. Science does not have an answer to this immaterial inner life that exists in each one of us.
He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in their hearts, yet so that man can’t find out the work that God has done from the beginning even to the end. Ecclesiastes 3: 11.
---World English Bible