Humans, Apes, and the Felix Culpa

John Algeo

Originally printed in the MARCH-APRIL 2007 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation:Algeo, John. "Humans, Apes, and the Felix Culpa." Quest  95.2 (MARCH-APRIL 2007):
73.

Theosophical Society - John Algeo was a Professor Emeritus of English at the University of Georgia. He was a Theosophist and a Freemason He was the Vice President of the Theosophical Society Adyar.

There is a story, perhaps apocryphal, of two Victorian ladies passing a book shop in whose window were displayed copies of Charles Darwin's revolutionary book, On the Origin of Species. One lady says, "Mr. Darwin believes that men are descended from apes." The other, a bishop's wife, replies, "Oh, my dear, let us hope that it is not so. Or if it is, let us pray that the fact does not become generally known."
 

The first lady got Darwin's view wrong (a popular error shared by many others, including some who should know better). Darwin did not suppose that humans descended from apes, but rather that humans and apes have both descended from a common ancestor. The generally accepted scientific view is that their common ancestor was more apelike than humanlike, hence the widespread view that humans descend from apes.

However, the scientific view is focused solely on physical characteristics, which are all science can deal with, while Madame Blavatsky had quite a different focus. She therefore had an opposite view from that of scientists, namely, that the ancient common ancestor of apes and men was, in ways that are of deep importance, more human than ape. She also maintained that humans and apes interbred at one point in history, a miscegenation she called the sin of the mindless (Secret Doctrine 2:185-91). The possibility of such miscegenation has been rejected by conventional wisdom, which holds that once species diverge, they can no longer interbreed successfully.

Conventional wisdom is, however, often wrong. Recent studies of the DNA sequences of humans and chimpanzees point to evidence that surprisingly supports Madame Blavatsky. The conclusion some genetic scientists have reached is "that millions of years after an initial evolutionary split between human ancestors and chimp ancestors, the two lineages might have interbred again before diverging for good. . . . The final breakup came as late as 5.4 million years ago" (New York Times, Dec. 12, 2006, p. D3).

Yet Madame Blavatsky's label of "sin" for such interbreeding may be Victorian, like the reaction of the two ladies to Darwin's book. A Harvard-MIT geneticist, David Reich, has a different take. "Reich argues that hybrids could play an important and positive role in speciation, introducing advantageous traits into the gene pool— including ours. If Reich is correct, the customary image of the human family tree, with its neat and discrete divisions, should be replaced by another metaphor: a dense and impenetrable thicket of branches concealing countless acts of interspecies sex. It's enough to make a bishop's wife blush" (New York Times Magazine, Dec. 10, 2006, p. 54).

Some Christian theologians have referred to Adam and Eve's sin in the Garden of Eden as a felix culpa, that is, a happy fault. Although it was a fault because it got our legendary first ancestors thrown out of paradise, it was happy because it caused the Son of God to be born as a human being, thus uniting the divine and human natures in one person. The notion that the primal sin of humanity might have really been a good thing would not have seemed strange to Madame Blavatsky, who thought that those who believed it was a sin at all had gotten it quite wrong. But if the geneticists who believe that early humans and chimps interbred are right, and if David Reich is also right that such interbreeding can play a positive role in species development, then Blavatsky's sin of the mindless may have been another felix culpa.

Evolution, like God, moves in mysterious ways.


March - April 2005

VOLUME 93, NUMBER 2

For Others
By Betty Bland

And All the Company of Heaven
By Brian R. Marshall

Angels, Mortals, and the Language of Love
By Maria Parisen

The Builders
By Judith Buchannan

Finder's Fee
By Greg Jordon

Speculating About Angels
By John De Hoff

A Thanksgiving Presence
By Annette Weis

The Angel of Central Park
By Margaret Nickel

The Dark Side of Light
By John Algeo

Was It An Angel
By Don Elwert

Wonders Never Cease
By Anita Phillips

The History of International Earth Day
By Ananya S. Rajan



Finder's Fee

By Greg Jordan

Originally printed in the March - April 2005 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Jordan, Greg. "Finders Fee." Quest  93.2 (MARCH - APRIL 2005):52

Having survived a near-death experience in 1970, coming back from the dark side of the veil, I feel I'm no pilgrim when it comes to life-changing events. Sometime in the late 1980s I was attending a weekly traditional Lakota sweat lodge ceremony. During a break in the rounds, a question was asked: "How does one know which is the right path to choose when faced with a choice?" My answer was, "Choose the hardest path. In some cases one would be right and if one was wrong, one would learn a valuable lesson." Some people were shocked and warned me about saying such things in a sweat lodge. Two days later, while driving down a country road, I turned into a blind curve going downhill and was confronted by a tractor hauling a hay wagon. As I drove to the right and hit my brakes, I realized my tires were on wet rocks. Instead of stopping, my car accelerated toward a stand of trees. In less than a moment I knew my options were few: either pull out of my skid and kill the driver of the tractor, or crash into the trees. Against my own advice, I chose the easy path and drove into the trees. As my head was going through the windshield I was grabbed by two sets of hands that stopped my momentum, pulled me out of the windshield, and set me down in my seat. I could hear one of my "angels" say to the other, "I think we got him this time." I cannot tell you "what I got"; however, the scar I carry for the rest of my life is my reminder of entities that exist well beyond my five senses. That day was the last day of my life as a mortgage broker—business man and the first day of my life as a Native American children's story writer.


And All the Company of Heaven

By Brian R. Marshall

Originally printed in the March - April 2005 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Marshall, Brian R."And All the Company of Heaven." Quest  93.2 (MARCH - APRIL 2005):49-50

It was a beautiful warm spring day in April 1975 when I first encountered angels. I was at a funeral at St. Andrew's Episcopal Church in Birmingham, Alabama. The church was packed. The service was for a forty-nine year-old man whose sudden heart attack had left his wife a widow and his three children without a father.

I had been to funerals before. Most had been somber to one degree or another. This one was different. The family was singing its heart out; so was everyone else. There was a presence there that lent itself not to somberness but to joy.

The priest celebrated the Eucharist after his funeral homily. It was then that I saw the reason for the feelings in the church. At each end of the altar stood shimmering, bluish figures in the form of men nine to ten feet tall. Their hands were extended toward the eucharistic bread and wine in the hands of the priest. Father Branscomb's chanting of the liturgy had never been clearer.

After the service, we gathered for a luncheon in the parish hall. Father Branscomb sat beside me. I didn't tell him what I had seen until his conversation provided the opening. He said that in over twenty-five years of being a priest, he had never experienced such power and energy as he had that day. It was as if the heavenly hosts themselves were with him in the consecration of the elements of bread and wine. After all, the eucharistic liturgy clearly states that we celebrate our oneness "with angels, and archangels and all the company of heaven."

It was then that I spoke up. "Yes, Father, the heavenly hosts were with you. Yes, they assured the family of the deceased of the ongoingness of his life." Father Branscomb was quiet for a while. When he did respond, it was not with condescension or unbelief. He simply smiled and said, "Yes, angels . . . that explains it."

St. Paul admonishes us to treat strangers with kindness, lest we be "entertaining angels, unaware." On that spring morning in Alabama, I had the privilege of entertaining angels, quite aware!


Brian R. Marshall has been a member of the TS for over thirty-five years. He lives in Duluth, Minnesota. A retired United Methodist pastor, Brian spends his time writing, reading, walking, skiing and contemplating the beauties of Northern Minnesota and the grandeur of Theosophy


The Angel of Central Park

By Margaret Nickel

Originally printed in the March - April 2005 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Nickel, Margaret. "The Angel of Central Park." Quest  93.2 (MARCH - APRIL 2005):50-51

It was a hot day in June and my first trip to New York City. I had gone to celebrate my daughter's twenty-fifth birthday. After a wonderful day of sightseeing and shopping, the highlight of the day was yet to come. We were spending the evening in Central Park listening to a concert given by Luciano Pavarotti

We arrived early as a huge crowd was expected, unpacked our food and drinks and placed our blanket on a slight slope with a good view, but not too close to the stage. Next to us was a family of four adults and some of their friends. Strangely, they knew someone we knew and we made friends instantly. We shared the space and the food, while others began to arrive. Some with chairs, some with more blankets, and slowly a happy little community formed. More people began to arrive and we all introduced ourselves and said where we were from. The weather cooled off, and it was a fabulous summer night. The crowd continued to grow, and soon the ground was covered with a mass of people. As more people came our space began to get a little tight.

Then a man walked up, he was alone. He stood next to a chair at the front corner of our blanket. His expression was placid. He smiled, but did not say a word. I smiled back. He was of average build with a slightly swarthy complexion, and though there was nothing striking about him at the time, he appeared very calm and kind.

The concert was scheduled for eight o'clock, but by seven the crowd had swelled and was getting a little noisy. Soon there were loud conversations and our little community's "personal space" was invaded. So we huddled together as our space began to shrink, little by little. The man didn't move, however, he just stood there at the corner of our quilt. About fifteen minutes before the concert was to begin, an argument broke out. Someone cursed and started throwing things. My daughter and I were anxious by this time, but when I looked over at the man, he just stood in the same place, calm and serene.

It was almost time for the concert to begin when a fight broke out. We struggled with the decision of whether to stay or leave. By this time, our quilt was in a bag and we were standing elbow to elbow with others, some who were pushing and shoving. Suddenly I found myself right next to the man who had come alone. He calmly stood with the benevolent expression still on his face; an "aura" of about eighteen inches surrounded him, so no one pushed or shoved him. We stood beside the stranger listening to Pavarotti for the next three songs and then decided to leave. It was later reported that 350,000 people attended the concert.

I recognized the angel only much later that night, and the realization was immensely powerful. Of all the individuals who gathered in our little "community", he was the one whose name I never asked. He never spoke a word, but just stood with an amazing beneficence and held space for us—keeping us safe. I realized that his face had the countenance I had seen on all the avatars, and I will not forget his presence. He radiated peace. Whoever he was, that night he was the angel in Central Park, protecting me, protecting my daughter, protecting all of us. He is still with me, and his presence is real to this day.


Margaret Nickle is a member of the Memphis branch in Tennessee.

If thou art told that to become Arhan thou hast to cease to love all beings—tell them they lie. (v.123)

On a daily basis, consider your life and how you might add to the well-being of another; think of the beauty and treasures of this earth; explore the deep recesses of your heart for meaning and purpose in the realms of immortality. By doing so, each day you will be increasing the joy, gratitude, and understanding that fills our lives and our planet with living waters.


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