A little less than two years ago, I watched my wife give birth to our daughter Jane.  I won’t go into detail; suffice it to say that the process of labor and delivery is in turns anxiety-ridden, horrifying, disgusting, and, ultimately, mind-boggling.  The greatest miracle in the “miracle of life” is that any survivors remain when it’s all said and done.

Our next child is due to be born tommorow, and, if she’s anything like her father, tommorow she will arrive.  I’m once again steeling myself for the gory endeavor, preparing to witness the human bodies of my wife and new child do things that they ought not be able to do.

During the course of these mental preparations, I’ve been faced by the plain oddity of human feelings.  Take, for example, my distaste for the horrors of the delivery room.  Why do I feel that way?  What is the cause?  What, if anything, is the purpose?

I can only think of two sets of presumption from which to start considering these questions (if anyone can think of a third, I’d be grateful to hear it).  From a secular perspective, my horror must have a biological cause.  There can’t be a purpose in my feelings in and of themselves, because the absence of god amounts de facto to the absence of purpose, even a purpose as basic as biolgical survival.  There can only be causation.  What, then, is the cause?  Does my horror, if shared by men generally, create some advantage for the human species, or would it have created such advantage in the past?  If so, what advantage? 

Evolutionary theory (which has a much firmer footing in science than any other attempted history of life on earth, particularly the spotty efforts of “creation science”) can speculate that my horror might be the result of a genetically programmed reaction that persisted because it served the good of the species, but I have trouble deducing what that good was (perhaps to reduce cannabilism or infanticide by discouraging men from attending birth?), and, more importantly, I have trouble understanding how such a reaction could be perpetuated genetically.   What part of dreading the goriness of labor specifically (not gore in general; it’s an unusual year if I don’t shoot, gut, and eat a large mammal or three) would result in greater reproductive success for its sufferer?  How can a proclivity for a particular emotional reaction to a particular sort of event be passed on genetically such that an evolutionary explanation is even coherent?

The other starting place is religious.  From a perspective that accounts for God, and particularly for man as a creation rather than a genetic accident, my feelings might have purpose as well as causation.  It may be that my horror is caused in the evolutionary sense described above; but from a religious perspective it is also possible that my feeling exists for a reason other than ensuring reproductive success.  It could be, for example, that part of loving my wife includes horror at witnessing her in pain–not because that feeling results in greater reproductive success (although it might), but rather because that feeling serves the larger purpose of feeling love as part of understanding God.  Oddly, my feelings themselves practically insist that they transcend the mere causation that might explain such things as having two legs rather than four, or hair rather than fur, and, from the importance most people place on their feelings, most people appear to share the same unspoken assumption.

I’m not laying this out as a iron-clad apologia.  I am saying that we humans tend to ignore, take for granted, or minimize the many unexplained oddities that attend being human.  We become so familar with these curiosities that we stop seeing exactly how curious they are.  Feelings–and the strange way in which feelings are universal across cultures and simultaneously highly individualized–are one of the strangest.  Maybe our feelings are merely caused and we have not the wit to understand the web of biological history that caused them.  But if our feelings themselves are any guide, they have purpose rather than mere being.  At the very least, if God is part of the equation, our feelings are much more readily explicable, and more certainly imporant.  If that’s the case, we owe it to ourselves, and to the Creator of purpose, to discover what the purpose is and how best to fulfill it.