Last week we discussed the link between longevity and obedience in the Old(er) Testament, noting that the resurrection suggests that the significance of one’s earthly life is somewhat relativized—to live is Christ, and to die is Gain (Phil. 1:21). Hence, while it is not wrong to desire a long life, Christians know that a better life awaits, and should live in light of the reality of the resurrection. These conclusions however leave the question of arresting aging unanswered. For while Christians might oppose attempts to indefinitely extend earthly life (however far-fetched this notion is), it is more difficult to formulate a response to the hopes of gaining fifty or sixty additional years of health before one dies.

While Christians commonly assert that God has irrevocably established the number of our days, this need not be interpreted as an indictment against the technological quest to slow aging. Indeed, the belief that the human lifespan was largely intractable—as sin and death are irrevocably linked in the Christian tradition—was not the only perspective on aging and longevity. Some of the Desert Fathers asserted that aging could be slowed down through the discipline of fasting.

Athanasius of Alexandria provides us with one example. He discussed the condition of Adam and Eve before the fall as one where the body was ruled by the soul, and the soul was in perfect submission to God. In this state, the body itself was preserved by this order, and capable of remaining healthy several hundred years. When Adam sinned however, this body-soul disorder was disrupted, bringing heightened corruption (aging) to the body, brining an early death. Christ’s Incarnation however set to undue this corruption, to a degree. When the Christian engages in the disciplines of prayer and fasting, she is able to slowly bring the body and soul back to their proper order—as it was before the fall—and hence slow down aging. Fasting was a way to ‘regain Eden’ before the fall. Athanasius saw this played out most fully in the desert ascetic St. Antony, who lived to 105 years old, dying in a state of relative health.

It is interesting to note then that Athanasius and other Desert Fathers were aware of a link between fasting and longevity well before this was ‘discovered’ by modern science. But this is not the main point. This early Christian construal of aging and sanctification does however give us a theological lens through which to examine contemporary attempts to slow aging by engineering a pill that mimics the effects of fasting. In short, we can critique the technological attempt to attenuate aging with the theological project of the Desert Fathers. First, it is important to note that the primary goal of fasting was not longevity, but to be transformed into Christ’s image—a healthier, more slowly aging body was a byproduct of a theological goal. Second, they recognized that the path to spiritual transformation began by first attending to the body. There could be no real spiritual formation unless one engaged in bodily disciplines. And this, once again, proved a way to re-order body and soul, to bring one’s desires in line with God’s.

From this perspective, attempts to produce longevity by taking a pill that mimics fasting can be seen as a practice which only further divides the body and soul by attempting to bypass any potential formative practices of the body altogether. For the modern biomedical project is fuelled by the notion that our bodies are at best morally neutral, subject to the whims of our wills and desires, profoundly shaped by the negative, liberal understanding of freedom as freedom from limitations. Thus, insofar as our aging bodies serve as a reminder of our finitude, they must be met with the quest for technological control.

While Christians may one day have to wrestle with taking such a pill, we should be wary of doing so, lest we come to view our bodies as subject only to our will, failing to see the significance of our bodies—most especially the discipline of fasting—in our character development. Indeed, it is very likely that while fasting may slow down our aging and grant us more healthy years on earth, it may also transform us into people who are more willing to live the kind of lives that are marked by suffering and even early death, all for the sake of Christ.

by Dr. Todd Daly, Assistant Professor of Ethics and Theology

So what are we to make of the aging process? Is it ‘natural’ for us to grow old and die, or is aging a result of the fall, precipitated as it was by human sin? Can scripture give us any guidance with respect to aging? Is there any normative age mentioned in the Bible? Can it be wrong to desire a long, healthy life?

In trying to formulate a theological understanding to the origins of aging, we are best served by turning to the creation narratives in Genesis. Where did aging come from? Within Western Christianity, it has commonly been assumed that aging and death resulted from the fall (Gen. 3, Rom. 5:12-21), where, to put it somewhat cumbersomely, Adam and Eve were ‘demoted’ from a state of “being able to not die,” to “not being able to not die.” But does this mean that Adam and Eve were free from aging before the fall? Many theologians believe so. It is worth nothing however, what Adam and Eve lost in the fall. The text never tells us that they were immortal before the fall, only that they had been barred access to the Tree of Life, lest “they live forever” in the sinful state of knowing good and evil (Gen. 3:22-24). In fact, St. Augustine believed that they ate from this tree before the fall, “lest age decay them.” This is significant, for some Christian bioethicists have argued that biotechnology is best used in overcoming the effects of the fall. If aging is one of these effects, then we would seem to be warranted in waging a technological battle against aging.

To assert that aging is natural to our humanity is not to suggest however that sin is utterly unrelated to our growing old. The first eleven chapters of Genesis reveal that God gradually curtails human longevity on account of sin. Indeed, the brief story of the ‘Sons of God’ and the ‘daughters of men’ in Genesis 6:1-4 is paradigmatic of the transgression-punishment cycle in first eleven chapters. It is interesting to note the progression of three Hebrew words in this narrative are the same used to describe the account of Eve’s sin: The Sons of God saw that the daughters of men were good, and took them for wives (Gen. 6:2). Eve saw that the fruit was good, and took it (Gen. 3:6). And in Genesis 6 we learn that God limits the human lifespan to 120 years.

By the time we reach the psalms, we find a plea for God’s mercy amidst a life of toil and judgment which spans no more than seventy years—or eighty, if one has strength (Ps. 90:12). But this could hardly be considered as any kind of moral norm. Moreover, the “prolonging of one’s days” is often listed as a reward for obedience (Ex. 20:12, Deut. 5:33, Prov. 3:1-2). In the New Testament however, we find the significance of long live relativized by the promise of a future resurrection from the dead (1 Cor. 15). Paul speaks to the very real tension between this life and the next—‘to live is Christ and to die is gain.’ (Phil. 1:21) Christians are to daily take up their crosses—which reflects a willingness to live the kinds of lives that may actually lead to an early departure from this world.

Are Christians then to eschew longevity research? It may depend on just how this longevity might be achieved. It is interesting to note that some early Christians believed that there was a way to slow down human aging, engaging in disciplines that would enable a return to Adamic life in Eden before the fall. For some, the idea of Methuselah-like lifespans was achievable. We’ll talk about this next week, and the implications it has for Christians today.

by Dr. Todd Daly

by Dr. Todd Daly, Assistant Professor of Theology and Ethics

We are living longer. The tremendous advances in technology and medicine have lead not only to an increase in life expectancy, but also our expectations for a long, healthy life. If we’re honest, most of us hope to live well into our eighties and beyond, so long as we remain relatively healthy and independent. Yet this simple qualification—wanting long life on our own terms—subtly suggests that the continuing development of medicine and life-extending technologies have the capacity to shape our vision of a good life and a good death in profound ways.

One could argue that medicine and technology are increasingly leading us to consider the length of life as a key criterion in determining whether or not life is good. Yet, while the likelihood of living into our ninth decade continues to rise, the human body imposes its limitations upon our limitless desires. Even with continued breakthroughs against cancer and other common diseases, scientists acknowledge that the 120 year biological limit will remain unassailable until we are able to slow the aging process itself.

Some scientists are working on just such a project, and have already lengthened the maximum lifespans of nematode worms and laboratory mice through genetic manipulation and other techniques. Last November Harvard scientists expressed their shock at having actually reversed the signs of aging in elderly mice by using an enzyme which allows bodily cells to replicate beyond well-established limits. Hoping to simply slow aging in the mice, researcher Ronald DePinho reported that “we saw a dramatic reversal—and that was unexpected.” These telomerase-enhanced mice actually generated new brain tissue and muscle tissue, recovering the physiological characteristics of younger mice. It is still not clear, however, whether this therapy will extend the lifespan of mice or simply enable them to live healthier into old age. Either of these scenarios however, are very appealing.

Indeed, while one goal of aging research aims at ‘adding life to years’ by reducing the period of morbidity before death—about two years on average for humans—a more enticing scenario involves the possibility ‘adding years to life,’ of living several hundred years before dying very quickly. In the words of Ashley Montagu, “the idea is to die young as late as possible.”[1] Drawing on the well-established link between fasting and longevity, researcher Kenyon is trying to engineer a pill that mimics the genetic expression produced by fasting. She has already doubled the life span of the worm C. elegans by altering a single gene that mirrors the positive effects of a reduced diet. Kenyon envisions a day when slowing down our aging will be as simple as taking a pill. No wonder then that some researchers believe that aging itself is a disease in need of a cure.

These recent scientific breakthroughs are equally apt to shape our perception of just what constitutes a good life, and pose questions to Christians and non-Christians alike: “Is there anything wrong with wanting to live a very long time?” “Should we treat aging as a disease?” “If life is good, isn’t a longer life better?” These are all important questions that need to be addressed. But from an explicitly Christian perspective, I think the basic question is this: “Does this quest for longevity accord with the Christian vision of the good life as narrated in the Holy Scriptures?” This question will require a biblical inquiry concerning human nature, and the desire for long life—the topic of next week’s blog.

———————————————-
1 David Stipp, The Youth Pill: Scientists at the Brink of an Anti-Aging Revolution (NewYork: Current, 2010), vii.

The voice of one crying in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall
become straight, and the rough places shall become level ways,
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’
- The Prophet Isaiah

According to general consensus, the Agrarian Project would have begun and ended with “I’ll Take My Stand” were it not for two prominent failures: President Hoover’s administration and the Economy.

Prior to the Great Depression, the pervasive attitude regarding the general nature of life was well guarded by what the Agrarians had termed the “gospel of Progress,” a pseudo-gospel of sorts, one that promised stability, happiness, and prosperity if citizens simply trusted in the revolutionary forces of development and industrialized technology. Against this worldview the Agrarians were less than comprehensible. Americans simply did not have the patience, nor the appetite, for the “humane virtues of a simpler, more elemental, non-acquisitive existence.”3  Newness had become virtue; oldness was vice. The old was inferior; the modern valuable. It was believed human innovation, not age-old wisdom, would address humanity’s ills.

However, this system of thought proved to be vulnerable in the growing wake of the Great Depression. Large industrialized cities were hit hard. Solutions were desperately needed. In 1932, the year Franklin D. Roosevelt was elected President of the United States, forums seeking these new solutions were opened. New opportunities for a more concrete agrarianism developed. Fearing the New Deal would pass them by, half of the original Agrarian group did the unthinkable. They ignored their own advice and hitched the movement to the political machine, lobbying for political reform, publishing, and presenting a form of agrarianism that could easily be translated into public policy.

From here, the story of New Agrarianism becomes convoluted, its narrative encompassing a wide range of digressions. Specifically, by becoming a political movement all manner of neoconservative styles were invited to join the cause, all of which advocated federal intervention of some kind. For example, one sees European traditionalists, medievalists, proponents of “forty acres and a mule,” new country living advocates, and even environmentalists, conservationists, and transcendentalists all espousing some component of the Agrarian Project. Of course, one is still able to pick through and identify the true spirit of Agrarianism both in thought and practice (over 150 doctoral dissertations have proven this). But in short, the low-grade hum of the political machinery did more to hurt than help the cause.

Which brings me to Wendell Berry. Over the last twenty-five years the spirit of agrarianism has experienced a resurgence under his watch. Why? I do not believe it is because of his early writings on how to rebuild a Great Rural Civilization. History has shown us the futility of this approach. Rather, I believe his effectiveness lies in his ability speak as a poet and prophet, a voice crying out from the wilderness. To put it simply, Berry seeks an inner “conversion” of sorts. By eulogizing age-old wisdom, which is a largely vanished way of life, he courts the reader’s soul and stirs awake deep, fragmented longings ignored and often created by our technological age. With resolute stories of land ownership, home, hearth, marriage, faith, friendship, and clear devotion to one’s place (all of which are core principles of Agrarianism), Berry creates a deep hunger for the tried and true. He opens the reader’s eyes to a better way of life, a life that savors harmony with God, others, and the created world, a way that is often overlooked by Christians even though its beauty and vitality is subtly depicted throughout the great narratives of the Bible.

Since the founding of the movement, New Agrarianism has sought a way to reconcile modernity and tradition, progress and human nature. At its core is the desire to reform home-life, shelter rural-life, and literally build culture from the ground up. I may be wrong in saying this, but it is my conviction that as more and more people struggle with the fragmenting effects of excessive materialism, rampant individualism, and land disassociation, New Agrarianism’s core truths will only grow in their appeal, both in the church and society at large.

Presently, the movement’s vision is thriving only in the social margins at this centuries beginning. The ethos of American evangelicalism is still predominately shaped by optimism in modern technique and programatic formulas. But even this is waning. More and more pastors are growing weary of feeling like frenzied paramedics on a blood stained battle field. Bleeding wounds and casualties demand immediate care, but they are starting to reconsider the fundamental nature of the battle. They are beginning to question the flock’s assumptions about innovation, progress, and technique; questioning what truly constitutes the good life. Even the average layperson is asking these same questions. The Modern experiment is proving to be an hollow existence. As one person put it, “Busyness is a great way to make money, but it lousy way to live.”

I am hopeful that as these questions grow, the church will have better answers to these basic human longings. The New Agrarian Project is not the end all. It is not a one stop shop. But it is certainly a voice crying out from the wilderness. It’s spirit is deeply tuned in to the ethos of Holy Scripture. For those who slow down and stop to ponder its message, a hidden vista comes into view, a path of sorts, one foretold by the prophet Jeremiah and one we would be wise to follow:

“Stand by the roads, and look, and ask for the ancient paths,
where the good way is; and walk in it, and find rest for your souls.”
- Jeremiah 6:16

by Duane D. Otto

——————————————-

3 Louis D. Rubin, Jr., “I’ll Take My Stand” (Baton Rouge: LA State University Press, 1977), p.XV.