Ship of Fools - Chapter 20
Jesus H. Christ
[Start at the beginning of the novel: Prologue.]
[Go to the Table of Contents.]
Welcome back to Ship of Fools, my satire about a science journalist trying to make sense of conspiracy theorists, flat-earthers, moon-landing deniers, New Agers, and more.
After parting ways with Slim and Shorty and hitching a ride with Pedro back to Lee’s Ferry, Reverend Lee faces new challenges in the form of a strangely named passenger as the raft trip begins. This is a long one, but it’s broken into three sections.
THE KIDNAPPING had been bad enough, but from the first moments of meeting up with his clients, or flock, as he liked to think of them, at the Lee’s Ferry put-in, Reverend Paul knew that the journey would present its own challenges. Not in the form of Nazis or other such obvious agents of Satan, but in the guise of a young man — young, in the Reverend’s eyes, being late twenties or early thirties — with the unlikely name of Jesus Herrada de Christophorou — the J pronounced like H and the H silent, according to the young man’s application. Such a name indicated that his parents were either deeply devout or possessed of a wicked sense of humor.
Worse, he dressed the part, not quite in flowing robes, but in a loose-fitting cotton shirt, wide capri-style linen pants, and leather sandals of a Roman style — in stark contrast to the rubber and synthetic gear everyone else wore, if not wool socks and boat shoes, given the time of year — which certainly gave a similar impression. Topping it all off, he wore his brown hair shoulder-length, along with a closely-trimmed beard. His complexion was what had at one time been called “swarthy,” which also accorded well with the historical Jesus, though too many Western Christians were loathe to admit it. Paul would hardly have been surprised if Herrada had given the sign of blessing when introducing himself to the group.
Instead, after giving his full name, the younger man said, “My students call me Mr. Herrada, but you can call me Zeus. It’s a nickname I picked up in college.” His accent was vaguely East Coast.
“And where did you go to school, Mr. Herrada?” Tom, the river guide, asked hopefully. “Bob Jones University?”
“Nah, Brown, actually. And as for the trip, I hope to have many interesting and challenging conversations on the topic of Our Father’s creation.”
Something in the way his eyes glinted in his direction gave Paul the impression that this Jesus — or Zeus, God help him — was not quite the true believer he’d claimed to be on his application. How had he let the young man slip through the screening process? Everyone not affiliated with Paul’s local church in Colorado Springs had been required to submit a statement of intent, the reasons for wanting to learn about Young Earth Creationism, and also a hiking resume for the past two years. The trip would be smaller than usual, just a single raft, and shorter, due to the time of year, requiring a hike out of the canyon from Phantom Ranch. That would provide a good opportunity to view the successive layers deposited during the worldwide flood, but it was not for the inexperienced or unfit.
Herrada’s application had come in at the last minute, but it had met all the requirements. Having one spot left to fill, Paul had accepted him. Now he wondered just what kind of challenging conversations the younger man had in mind.
He tried to put those thoughts aside as he said the blessing for the start of the journey, focusing on the ten others who made up this group of seekers, along with Tom, the head guide, and Sarah, his second, and an able pilot herself. They all seemed eager, and not at all put out by his own tardiness. The welcome Tom had given him after Pedro had dropped him off at the put-in, encouraging him to relax about the lateness of the hour and to take his time organizing his gear, had been most heartening. Tom and Sarah had even driven up to the campground to retrieve his car while he got to know the rest of the seekers.
And now here they were, about to put in for a short float to the nearest camping spot. He took his usual seat on the box in front of the pilot’s station, as far away from the spray and potential plunges into rapids as he could be. Let the other seekers have the thrill of going headfirst down the cataracts; for him the experience was about being surrounded by God’s Creation, and the rapids were more an ordeal than a joy ride.
On past trips, he would often sit with Sarah when she wasn’t piloting the boat. She wasn’t a believer, but she was one of Tom’s best guides and boat pilots. She said she enjoyed these Christian trips because the clients were more helpful than the average, making her own job easier. He would gently nudge her in the direction of belief, never in an obnoxious way, he hoped, and she seemed to take it in good stride. The thought of such a sweet young person losing herself to eternal damnation was too difficult to contemplate. The chance of saving her was worth the risk of giving offense.
But now Herrada took a seat between them, seeming to have formed a quick friendship with the pretty blond during the day.
Paul tried to relax as they motored downstream. He gathered that his delay was requiring greater speed while underway, and therefore more noise from the motor. He’d always most enjoyed those moments on previous trips when the guides let the motors idle. The peace and natural sounds of the canyon would wash over the rafts — the rippling of the flowing river, the breeze in the willows and tamarisks, the call of a canyon wren. At last Tom must have felt they’d made enough headway because he throttled back and let the raft drift.
Now it was quiet enough to allow general conversation, but as opposed to the usual questions about the canyon, they all wanted to know about his ordeal with the Nazis. He put them off until after dinner, then answered one or two questions about the fossils in the exposures of Kaibab Limestone now at river level. In a couple of days, that layer would form the very top of the Grand Canyon, 5,000 feet above the stream. God’s handiwork was indeed awesome. Next to him, Herrada simply gave him a sardonic smile.
They lapsed into silence, the passengers enjoying the scenery and the deepening canyon, punctuated now and then by unusually flirtatious banter between Herrada and Sarah. He tried not to be annoyed.
The first of the challenges Paul had feared came during that evening’s Creation Talk. After a dinner of salmon and new potatoes roasted over coals, he was giving his standard introduction to the trip and what they would learn. He felt a little hesitant and out of sorts, not having had time to go over his notes, but this was a talk he should have been able to give in his sleep.
He always liked to begin by contrasting the two world views, Evolutionists — the seculars — on one hand, and Biblical scholars on the other. Some Evangelicals believed Darwinists were part of a grand conspiracy to defraud the gullible public and remove religion from every aspect of life, but Paul viewed them simply as having fallen under the false beliefs — or assumptions — of naturalism, gradualism, and uniformitarianism — the idea that every aspect of the Creation could be explained by regular, and usually slow, natural processes, with no need to resort to divine action.
Just as the Evolutionists charged believers with forcing every fact to fit their preconceived Biblical Truth, so he charged the Evolutionists with seeing only the patterns that fit their preconceived notions of naturalism, while denying evidence of an obviously miraculous nature.
At this point the sound of a throat clearing came from the group seated on the sand across the campfire. Paul couldn’t see who it was, but he could guess.
“Begging your pardon, Reverend, but that’s not how it happened at all.”
Some grumbling came from the rest of the group, but he couldn’t quite pick it up.
“It isn’t?”
“No, many of the first Earth scientists were devout men, open to Biblical explanations, but the record in the rocks didn’t support them. Take Adam Sedgwick. He was a priest in the Church of England and a conservative one at that. But he abandoned his belief in a global flood as he examined Devonian and Cambrian fossils. He showed that the fossils found in a series of sedimentary layers reveal an undeniable succession of life on Earth from one period to the next. So it wasn’t a matter of assuming naturalism and then trying to prove it, more of looking at the evidence and finding the best explanation. A man like Sedgwick would have loved to find that all the species God created existed at the same time.”
“Yes, I’m quite aware of Sedgwick, one of the fathers of secular geology. He was not the first or last churchman to fall prey to ‘Enlightenment’ thinking.” The scare quotes got a good laugh from the rest of the group, who seemed uncomfortable with this challenge to his authority.
“But even though he couldn’t deny the evidence of a succession and increasing complexity of life through time,” Herrada went on, “he was never an Evolutionist, and strongly criticized Darwin.”
“I always thought Sedgwick was partly to blame for him, having been his mentor in geology. But what’s your point, anyway?”
“Yeah,” someone said. “We want to hear what Reverend Lee has to say.” Others nodded in agreement.
Paul held out his hands in placation. “Now, now, a little debate is a good way to test the strength of one’s belief. Mr. Herrada, you seem to know a lot about this topic. What is it you teach, anyway?”
“AP Earth Science, Astronomy, occasionally AP Physics.”
Heaven help him. “Impressive. But if you could explain what your point is here.”
“I just wanted to show there’s more than one way to be a good Christian.”
“Well of course there is. The main thing is for people to accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. But they are less likely to do that if we accept even the tiniest crack in the inerrancy of the Bible.”
“In one interpretation of the Bible, you mean.”
Paul tried not to groan with exasperation. “Mr. Herrada — I must call you that, rather than by the name of a false god. As for your given one, naming children for our Savior may be part of your culture, but it’s not part of ours…mine. If you doubt the inerrancy of the Bible, why did you join a trip whose whole point is to prove just that?”
“All will be revealed,” he said with an enigmatic smile. “I bet we’ll have many chances to debate as we head down river. Please, go on.”
Tom stood up then. “The fire’s dying down and it’s getting a tad chilly out.” Indeed, everyone was bundled in all the clothes they had and were moving ever closer to the fire as it dwindled. “I suggest we hit the synthetic down and get an early start tomorrow.”
There was a general murmur of assent. It was with some relief that Paul headed for his tent, not failing to notice that Herrada and Sarah lingered by the fire, the latter poking it with a stick and smiling across the flames at the enigmatic fellow.
Herrada was right that they would have more occasion for debate. First it was in the gargantuan and cathedral-like Redwall Cavern, when Herrada openly doubted the rapid deposition of limestone, made possible by the fountains of the deep. Then in Nautiloid canyon he questioned the work of the very distinguished Biblical geologist who had discovered that the Nautilus fossils tended to point one direction, as if they had all been captured in a great cataclysm such as a world-wide flood.
The constant questioning wasn’t helped by an encounter they had at the old granaries at Nankoweap, an ancient Anasazi ruin sheltered in an overhang high in the Redwall Formation. They’d hiked the steep trail up from the river and were eating lunch, Herrada peppering the meal with pointed comments about what kind of Creation story the ancient people must have had, and how God could leave so many people ignorant of his existence for so many thousands of years. Were the Anasazi consigned to Hell simply because they’d never heard the Good News?
Paul was about to go into the doctrine of inclusivity when he noticed a figure coming up the steep trail below them, revealed to be a young woman as she drew closer. She wasn’t even carrying a daypack, just a titanium water bottle. She wore tights covered by a skirt that looked like it came from a second-hand store, a long-sleeved cotton shirt with holes in it — none of which managed to hide the curves Paul tried not to think too much about — and a sun hat over blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. At least she sported serious hiking boots, as opposed to the river sandals most of his companions wore.
The group grew silent, watching her approach. She turned the last switchback and seemed surprised, even taken aback, to see them sitting beneath the granaries. Then she continued along the trail toward them.
“Hi,” Sarah said brightly. She’d led the group up the steep trail, leaving Tom at the boat. “I bet you didn’t expect to see us here at this time of year, did you?”
“Not really,” said the newcomer. Now that he could see her up close, Paul guessed she was a bit older than Sarah, maybe late twenties. “If I’d known there’d be rafters, I might have done the whole Butte Fault route and caught a ride across.”
“Ah, too bad, we could have given you one. I’m Sarah, by the way.”
“You can call me Glow.”
“You wanted to experience this spot on your own, didn’t you? We should probably head back.”
“No, no, don’t worry about me, I just have to pick up my pack and get to camp in Nankoweap Creek by this evening. I’ve got plenty of time.”
While the rest of the group went about eating their lunch, the novelty of the ancient rock structures having worn off, the young women chatted about the route “Glow” — what kind of name was that? — was taking. It seemed madness, a young woman, or anyone really, hiking by herself in this wilderness. And he’d heard the Nankoweap Trail was the toughest in the whole park.
But Sarah seemed almost envious of the newcomer. “I’d love to do that some day,” she said. “Just really get away from it all.” And here Paul had thought they were away from it all. But this was work for Sarah, he had to remind himself.
Their talk turned to the raft trip and the reason for its timing. “Reverend Paul here is teaching the group about how the canyon fits in with the flood story in the Bible.”
“Really?” Glow said, looking his way doubtfully. “Well, to each his own, I always say.”
“You’re not a believer?” Paul asked.
The young woman looked at Sarah, who laughed. “It’s okay, this is my fourth trip with Reverend Paul, and he still hasn’t converted me.” She gave him a wink.
Seeming reassured, Glow said, “I believe in something. I’m more of a Judeo-Buddhist-Eco-Pagan, to tell you the truth. I mean, when you look at all this” — she gestured across the river far below to the cliffs of the Desert Facade opposite, and downstream to the temples and buttes of the inner canyon, the unbuttoned sleeve of her shirt falling back to reveal a yin-yang tattoo on her forearm — “and you think about all the different stories about how it came to be, the Anasazi here, and the Hopi just downstream, where their creation story says they emerged into this world, or the one that says it’s billions of years old and we all came from stardust… it’s all just a wonder and a mystery, isn’t it? I don’t stress out about who made it or how, or when, but it just fills me with awe and respect, and it’s amazing to be part of it, you know?”
Herrada, who’d been listening in, gave Paul one of his smirks. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“The Lord’s Creation is definitely awe-inspiring,” Paul agreed. He didn’t want to start another argument, especially not in front of a stranger, even if her mind was filled with such New Age gobbledygook. The doctrine of inclusivity was meant for those who’d never had the good fortune to hear of Jesus Christ, but those who did hear the Good News and rejected it were doomed. It was a pity, but he couldn’t save everyone. He still had some hope for Sarah, even if she kept professing not to be convinced.
“Well, we should be going,” Sarah said. “Don’t want the boss to wonder what happened to us.” She admonished the group about leaving any trash or bits of food at this “special spot.” She almost said something else starting with “S” — sacred? — but caught herself, with a sideways glance at Paul. “It was great to meet you,” she said to Glow as the group filed past on the narrow trail.
“Same here,” said Glow. “You too, Reverend.”
“Have a great day, and may the Lord keep you safe on your journey.”
She put her hands together and bowed her head. “Namaste. And may the Goddess smile on your raft trip.”
“Namaste!” came Herrada’s voice from behind, like a mosquito buzzing in his ear.
That night, the topic of his Creation Talk was a general overview of the flood. Herrada couldn’t keep from undermining even the very foundation of this most popular of Bible histories. At least he waited until Paul finished and opened it up for questions.
“I hope everyone understands,” he said, “that the idea of a world-wide flood rests on the translation of just a couple of words. First, eretz, which can mean ‘earth’, as in ground, or just land, as in ‘this land is your land, this land is my land’. It’s not at all clear that the Genesis author…”
“Moses…”
“Yes, well, that’s in doubt too, but whoever it was, it’s not clear that he meant the entire world, or just the land of the Israelites, the shores of the Mediterranean, or something more local like that. And this was a century or more before the first documented ideas about the accurate shape and size of the Earth, so what would ‘world-wide’ even mean to them anyway?”
“Yet surely the passage about the waters rising fifteen cubits over the mountains…”
“Yes, that’s the next set of words that aren’t at all clear. They could just as easily be translated to mean fifteen cubits up the flanks of the mountains, which would mean a much more local flood. There’s actually some evidence for that in the geological and historical record, though it was probably in Mesopotamia. All of which would leave you high and dry, as it were.”
More groans. Reverend Paul had to restrain himself from joining them. “Of course I’m not unfamiliar with controversies over Biblical translation, but I hear these arguments more often from skeptics and seculars than from true believers.”
“And I want you to see there are many ways to be a good believer. There are some who believe our Father’s creation is ongoing, that he creates the world every second. That the revelations are not all in the past, but many are still to come. Perhaps the best way we can honor our Father is to keep an open mind.”
The silence that followed was broken only by other seekers whispering amongst themselves. Paul struggled to maintain his composure, fearful to speak lest an untoward remark spoil whatever sense of fellowship remained among the group.
Sarah, who had been fidgeting and twirling her ponytail in her seat off to the side of the group, broke the tension by jumping up. “How about a game of hacky sack? It’ll help work out the kinks from today’s hike.”
Several of the group agreed, and the rest drifted off, whatever questions they might have had remaining unasked. It was all right. The Flood was one of the Bible’s best known stories, and most of the seekers already seemed well-versed in it.
Herrada just sat there, giving him that enigmatic grin.
Clearly, it was time to put an end to this. “Can I have a word with you?”
The younger man held out his hands, palms up. “Sure.”
“Could we take a walk?” Paul still wasn’t sure he could control his temper, and wanted to be out of earshot of the rest of the group.
Herrada rose and they walked down the sandy beach, making their way past willows and tamarisks. When they’d gone a good distance, Paul turned to the younger man. “What’s your purpose in all this? Why did you come on this trip?”
“As I said, to show you there is a wider range of honest belief than you think possible.”
“But we could have conducted an email exchange, video-conferenced, or even met in person for a theological debate. Surely you can understand that this isn’t the appropriate place…”
“It’s the most appropriate place.” He gestured to the cliffs rising above them. “The evidence for or against your claims is all around.”
“Well, yes, but I have the rest of the group to think about…”
“Ah, it’s the challenge to your authority among your followers, is it?”
“No, it’s not that.” He certainly hoped it wasn’t that. “But they came expecting to hear the Truth, not a debate.”
“We should keep any uncertainties among the experts, so as not to confuse the flock, is that it? I think you have too little faith in your own followers.”
“But…”
“It’s exactly this sort of rigidity that I’m here to warn you against. It will serve neither you nor your flock during what is to come.”
“What is to come? What do you mean?”
They’d arrived at the end of the beach where the cliffs pinched right down to the churning river in a series of ledges that made a sort of walkway above the water.
“It’s like this canyon, you never know what’s around the next bend.” He leapt easily up to the lowest ledge and turned back to face Paul. “You have to keep your mind and your faith nimble to be ready for whatever’s around the corner.” He leapt to the next higher ledge, which extended a good way along the river. “Are you coming?”
“I should return to camp.”
“Trust me, Reverend, all of this is just meant to prepare you.”
“Prepare me for what?”
“All in good time.” With that he turned and jogged easily along the ledge, apparently without a care for the long drop into the water. He hopped onto the next higher ledge and disappeared around the corner.
As mystifying as the young man was, one thing was certain — he’d have no trouble on the hike out. In fact, maybe they could let him off at one of the lesser-known trails out of the canyon and be rid of him.
Paul chided himself for such an uncharitable thought and headed back to camp.
Acknowledgments: Much of the debate in this chapter between the Young Earth Creationist position and an Old Earth geological position is based on the arguments developed in Monument to an Ancient Earth: Can Noah’s Flood Explain the Grand Canyon as well as the Creationist book to which it was a response, Grand Canyon: A Different View.
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, please give it a like, a share, a restack, or a comment. And if you really enjoyed it, I hope you’ll buy me a coffee or upgrade to a paid subscription.
I guess having a heretic aboard his raft trip is better for Reverend Paul than being kidnapped by Nazis — but maybe not by much. Do you have any guesses as to what Herrada is on about?
Next up: Chapter 21, “Not Your Average Flat-Earther,” in which Penny “Moonglow” Himmelstein, on her way back from the Grand Canyon, picks up a hitchhiker.