We're Going to be Okay: A Walk Through Time and the Solution to Violence
The Serpent, Conquerors and Flying Through the Cosmos
We’ve been trying to recover ever since the garden. When we ate fruit from that tree, life became all about ourselves. I struggle daily to resist focusing on my own self-interest as events unfold. That’s because I still nibble that fruit, thinking I know better than God. But I don’t.
Collectively, we marvel at our ideas and innovations that seem to conquer the world. Fire brought us light and warmth, allowing us to do more in the night. We created the wheel to move ourselves and goods across the earth. We sailed the seas, bringing us closer together. But even as we gathered, we kept eating that fruit. There was always more to be done, more to acquire. Self-interest is expected, but the degree to which it was pursued inevitably created conquerors.
The conquerors needed land to build castles, house their armies and produce food. They made rules and built prisons to compel their citizens, controlling the population to maintain power. But the conquerors ate the fruit and wanted more.
But the snake said to the woman: “You certainly will not die! God knows well that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened and you will be like gods, who know good and evil.”
To gain more power, conquerors fought conquerors with their armies and technologies. Vast empires arose: Mesopotamia, Egyptian, Persian, Greek, Roman, Maurya, Han, Mongol, Ottoman, Spanish, French, British and so on.
During this time God came down to rescue us from ourselves. He knew we couldn’t stop eating that fruit, so he had a different plan. While we were distracted fighting among ourselves, God was born as a baby—Jesus. Thirty-three years later, we killed him, just as predicted. Three days later, Jesus rose from the dead. The Messiah was here, as the Hebrew Scriptures had promised. Christianity was born and spread to every continent. It shaped our actions and intellect. Other religions did the same. For the most part, religion brought people together, uniting them under a common belief. We were part of something greater.
But he was pierced for our sins, crushed for our iniquity. He bore the punishment that makes us whole, by his wounds we were healed. We had all gone astray like sheep, all following our own way; But the LORD laid upon him the guilt of us all.
Yet the conquerors still needed to conquer. Our desire to eat that fruit—to grasp all knowledge and power—would not be denied. Armies grew, wars were fought, land was taken or defended. And prisons multiplied.
In our own little fiefdoms, self-interest guided our actions as we searched for peace. Our desire for safety and comfort often conflicted with our religious and moral beliefs. Governments arose to manage laws and rules. With the conqueror at the top, they gave the appearance of order and justice, but it was a fragile illusion. People looked to their gods for help, promising to do better in exchange, always failing to hold up their part of the bargain.
As time advanced, so did technology. Our individual slice of land has become lonely. We have no time to enjoy it with those who matter. We can now talk with computers and devices that feed us the knowledge we crave. We can eat that fruit whenever we want. Wealth—whether money, followers, likes or shares—has become the goal. Fame has become the new fruit.
The most troubling pattern I see, repeated over the last two centuries, is this: as our technologies and capabilities increase, our connections to one another decrease. And in that void, we naturally seek something greater. Like in the garden, we want to be with one another and with God. But instead of finding Him, we find the serpent again, tempting us with false promises. And we give in. The serpent introduces us to causes or ideologies that offer a counterfeit purpose. A new morality to live by.
It was this deception that moved individuals to assassinate Archduke Ferdinand, Abraham Lincoln, John F. Kennedy, Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X and others. That “other” also includes victims of stabbings and shootings, like Charlie Kirk, who died this week. He is not someone I followed closely, but I know this: he should not have been killed. His murderer, unmoored from good, acted when the serpent whispered in his ear.
The technological advances today are astonishing. Much good will come from them. But we must still anchor ourselves to something greater than anything human hands can create. Each day, something chips away at my Catholic faith. It is hard to fight back. It is tiring, and tempting, to give in and accept what the world offers—wealth, fame, a popular cause. It all flows seamlessly to us through technology.
To resist the serpent’s whisper, we must anchor ourselves to a guiding principle that truly brings us together.
Since the garden, we have pursued our self-interest, often ignoring the will of God. We have pushed Him farther and farther away, replacing Him with our own aspirations. We have anchored ourselves to the serpent’s lies, dooming ourselves to sin.
In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth—and the earth was without form or shape, with darkness over the abyss and a mighty wind sweeping over the waters—Then God said: Let there be light, and there was light.
But let us zoom out. Step back from our self-interest and see the bigger picture. Watch the conquerors of history, driven by greed and power. See God entering our world, only to be crucified. Go further back still, to the creation of Earth itself. Our planet set in motion, spinning through the cosmos—584 million miles around the sun each year, 1.6 million miles per day, 66,600 miles per hour.
Zoom back again to behold our solar system, with its planets and sun moving together in unity through the galaxy at 448,000 miles per hour, orbiting the center of the Milky Way. And beyond that, trillions of galaxies sweeping through the universe.
It is within this miraculous puzzle that humanity has existed. Our history was written while riding a tiny planet on a vast, well-orchestrated journey set in motion by God.
But human history is not only filled with stories of war and wrongs. Mankind was created to love, yet has wandered further away from its Creator, making it harder to do so. We must recognize and remind one another—as the Class of 2025 on Earth—of our place and role in the universe and of who our true Sovereign is.
And when we reach for that fruit, we must also remember to reach for help from the forgiving God who planted the garden in the first place. Anchoring ourselves to the God of creation—and not the creations of man—remains the ultimate answer to resisting the whispers of the serpent. If enough people do that, we’re going to be okay.
Peace.
P.S. The next excerpt of New Earth returns next week. Catch up on the series, here.
Such a privilege to read your thoughts so true, so strong, but loving and accurate. Thanks for sharing. Your writing is growing in strength.