In long-term marriages, conversation sometimes goes like this:

“I don’t get why Atka has her starboard bow-line stretched across the corner of the dock,” I said.

I questioned because “Atka” was securely tied port-side and the extra, non-essential line blocked the narrow sailboat, “Oh J!” from tucking under Atka’s bow, offering an extra twelve or so feet of dock space for some yet-to-arrive boat—and let me tell you, in the gale force wind we are experiencing as I write, one wishes for plenty of space for a landing boat. Atka did finally release that line and, as the accompanying photo shows, “Oh J!” did move to the corner.

“I think it was because they mean to leave in the morning and thought it would be easier that way. The wind will blow them right out,” said my husband, meaning for my question to have been satisfactorily answered.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said. “The wind is just going to hold them on the dock, no matter.”

“No, the wind will blow their bow right off,” said he.

“Are you kidding?” I asked, mystified by how that man, so wise in the ways of wind, could make such a mistake. “The wind,” I said, pointing to confirm how Atka’s flag was flapping like a goose pushing against a gale. “The wind will hold the boat ON the dock.” Notice the emphasis. I know when I am right.

“Barb, look at the flag,” he said. “It will hit and push the bow right out into the channel.”

“I AM looking at the flag. YOU look at it! It’s a NNW wind and it will force that bow right back to the dock. There is no way the wind is going to help them get off the dock.” By this time I was on my feet, gesturing the obvious.

“Which boat are you talking about?” He asked. Wisely.

“The 44-footer,”  I answered.

“Oh,” came the response. “I’m talking about the little sailboat.”

“OH!” Said I. “Oh. Sure. The wind will blow that baby right off its easterly tie. I thought we were talking about Atka.”

I’m thinking about the book, “Glass Universe,” by Dava Sobel. In it, early in the exploration of stars, two astronomers in two separate countries, scanned the sky, both closely observing Andromeda. One was sure that what he saw guaranteed his idea of One Big Galaxy, our unique, one-of-a-kind Universe. The other, from the same evidence, saw many galaxies, multiple universes. The argument spanned years, but once the latter opinion was proved, and the proof was clearly defended in a letter to the former, the first wrote:

“Here is the letter than has destroyed my universe.” 

Harlow Shapley saw the stars and saw one huge and beautiful universe.

Edwin Hubble saw the stars and saw multiple universes.

Have you ever observed the differences of maps between Mercator’s projection (1569) and that of Peter’s projection (1974)? Peter’s projection (widely objected to) is accurate in relation to size of land masses but shapes and distances are off. Mercator’s projection (strongly protected by tradition) is accurate concerning direction, but not size (what’s with Greenland looking to be the size of Africa, 14 times larger?). 

Problems exist with attempts to transfer the realities of a sphere to a flat surface. But, if I have the facts right, in 1999, after six years of work, a Japanese university student, Hajime Narukawa, using 96 triangles, managed to make a map that accurately shows relative size and distances. It is published as the “AuthaGraph.” Look it up. It’s amazing.

I am a Christian. I have a Christian worldview, but priest/professor Barbara Brown Taylor says that a world view (in my case—Christian) is “a particular way of viewing reality that is not the only way.” We aren’t born with a worldview, it is acquired. It is a matter of perspective, it is a map. Like all world views, it is defendable but not provable. BBT’s idea of “not the only way” challenges those of us who cherish being right about God and his world; we who are inclined to tell but not listen.

We Christians do like to win belief debates; we do like the idea that ours is the One Big Galaxy. But, of course, differences of opinion surround us, and we even have differences among us. We have Fundamentalists, Evangelicals, and Progressives. I was raised in the first, convinced and convincing in the second, and have cautiously (comfortably) landed in the third: too much fight in the first, too much certitude in the second. I’m taking a close look at the third.

It’s wise to be humble about being possessors of God’s truth. After all, who knows what world view our Melchizedek may come from; or that even a jackass (Numbers 22) might see the work of God when we don’t; or that a wise man, or three, might show up from a completely different belief system to tell us something we should have known all along. (Look it up) Learning along the way, I hope I am.

P.S.: the photo of Atka and Oh J! was taken after the nonessential line was removed and the sailboat moved up into the corner of the dock.