I reread Annie Dillard’s For the Time Being, and Teilhard is one of her “lights,” thinkers who changed the way we think about god and divinity and history. I had never been inspired to read more about Teilhard until now, and I really liked this writer’s style. I couldn’t put it down, it was written for speed! Overall satisfying in the depth department, although I also got Spirit of Fire by Ursula King to flesh out the Teilhard experience. Dillard says Teilhard can be inscrutable, and King’s bio is proving that whereas Aczel’s is much better at presenting this really cool man and his really cool discoveries and really cool thoughts and philosophies without making you reread sentences over and over again. Plus this one is more of the adventure and mystery genre instead of theological or philosophical. Teilhard was a Catholic priest, and I was raised Catholic and have grown away from anything that even hints of Catholicism. I used to hate it, but have softened in my views due to amazing lights like Teilhard. He gave the Church such a powerful tool in his theories and sermons on the absolute unity possible in accepting evolution and God’s place in it, or evolution’s place in Catholic teachings; he handed it to them over and over again and they rejected it again and again and exiled him over and over again. I don’t know how he kept his faith. It wasn’t until he died that he was published against their wishes, and to this day the Church holds certain things confidential and won’t let his biographers see them, which in my mine is still obstructionism, still despicable. Teilhard kept his faith, and his words and thoughts are beautiful. They could have kept thousands still with faith in the Church, but instead, the Church shamed themselves. Teilhard was a prophet as well as a talented scientist who helped discover amazing fossils that help us understand more of our history. The full story of the paleontology of the discovery of Peking Man encompasses more than just Teilhard, and it is as fascinating as his spiritual beliefs.
From his Mass of the World:
“Since once again, Lord — though this time not in the forests of the Aisne but in the steppes of Asia — I have neither bread, nor wine, nor altar, I will raise myself beyond these symbols, up to the pure majesty of the real itself; I, your priest, will make the whole earth my altar and on it will offer you all the labors and sufferings of the world.
Over there, on the horizon, the sun has just touched with light the outermost fringe of the eastern sky. Once again, beneath this moving sheet of fire, the living surface of the earth wakes and trembles, and once again begins its fearful travail. I will place on my paten, O God, the harvest to be won by this renewal of labour. Into my chalice I shall pour all the sap which is to be pressed out this day from the earth’s fruits.
My paten and my chalice are the depths of a soul laid widely open to all the forces which in a moment will rise up from every corner of the earth and converge upon the Spirit. Grant me the remembrance and the mystic presence of all those whom the light is now awakening to the new day.
One by one, Lord, I see and I love all those whom you have given me to sustain and charm my life. One by one also I number all those who make up that other beloved family which has gradually surrounded me, its unity fashioned out of the most disparate elements, with affinities of the heart, of scientific research and of thought. And again one by one — more vaguely it is true, yet all-inclusively — I call before me the whole vast anonymous army of living humanity; those who surround me and support me though I do not know them; those who come, and those who go; above all, those who in office, laboratory and factory, through their vision of truth or despite their error, truly believe in the progress of earthly reality and who today will take up again their impassioned pursuit of the light.
This restless multitude, confused or orderly, the immensity of which terrifies us; this ocean of humanity whose slow, monotonous wave-flows trouble the hearts even of those whose faith is most firm: it is to this deep that I thus desire all the fibres of my being should respond. All the things in the world to which this day will bring increase; all those that will diminish; all those too that will die: all of them, Lord, I try to gather into my arms, so as to hold them out to you in offering. This is the material of my sacrifice; the only material you desire.
Once upon a time men took into your temple the first fruits of their harvests, the flower of their flocks. But the offering you really want, the offering you mysteriously need every day to appease your hunger, to slake your thirst is nothing less than the growth of the world borne ever onwards in the stream of universal becoming.
Receive, O Lord, this all-embracing host which your whole creation, moved by your magnetism, offers you at this dawn of a new day.
This bread, our toil, is of itself, I know, but an immense fragmentation; this wine, our pain, is no more, I know, than a draught that dissolves. Yet in the very depths of this formless mass you have implanted — and this I am sure of, for I sense it — a desire, irresistible, hallowing, which makes us cry out, believer and unbeliever alike:
‘Lord, make us one.’”
– Teilhard de Chardin, “Mass on the World”