By Greg Erlandson

God loves diversity

St. Paul and early Christians remind us that in our infinite variety, we are all one in Christ

Benjamin Franklin was said to have wanted the wild turkey as our national bird, but after seeing a bald eagle up close and personal, I'm glad he lost that argument.

It was actually a bald eaglet, too young to take to flight, but plenty big nonetheless. It lacked the distinctive white head feathers of the adult, instead wearing baby bird "camo": a juvenile's brown feathers from head to claw.

Bald eagles are coming back in Indiana. On a tree soaring above the rain-swollen Wabash River, a short car ride and a hike from Our Sunday Visitor, hung an enormous nest containing one active eaglet. We stood on a tree-shaded bank across from the nest, training our binoculars on the restless bird while trying to ignore the sunken graves of the paupers' cemetery just behind us.

Nature photographers and gawkers like us have been streaming to the area to catch sight of the birds. Part of it is the rarity of this creature recently removed from the endangered species list, but I think that there is something about the predatory beauty of these raptors that can cause us to watch them for hours. On one hand, we see the nobility of their demeanor and dedication in feeding their offspring embodies biology's unquestioned fealty to the continuation of the species. On the other, the fearsome strength of these refined killing machines reminds us of elemental violence of the nature surrounding us.

As the muddy brown river swirled and noisily swept by below our perch, I was also struck once again by the extravagant diversity of nature. God in his infinite wisdom did not see fit to supply us with some token representatives of each genus. He backed up the genetic dump truck and poured out upon us and our world hundreds of thousands of different kinds of everything. Animals and plants, flowers and trees, fish and birds, insects galore and microbial life of nearly infinite variety and adaptability.

The same is true for human beings. Thanks to twin influences of nature and nurture and the remarkable depth of our genetic code, we come in all shapes and sizes. And if we are created in God's image, what does this tell us about God? Does he not take delight in the extravagance of his creation? When he gave us free will, surely he knew what a proud and stiff-necked people we would become, quick to argue and slow to retreat. We human beings perfectly fit in with the wild nature about us, and yet we have the means to transcend it as well.

An exemplar of human stubbornness could well be St. Paul, who the Church will be celebrating for the coming year. I find myself always amazed at the passionate, wily, fearless man who strides through the Acts of the Apostles. He braves mobs, imprisonment and assassination plots to preach the word of God. Like Peter, we see him warts and all. Paul is a man who talks so much he puts one of his listeners asleep. He tussles with everyone, friend or foe. He even argues with Barnabas, at one point a close travel companion, about who should come with them. "So sharp was their disagreement that they separated," is Acts' laconic conclusion to that fight.

Acts is a reminder of the great diversity in that early Church. These weren't cookie-cutter Christians, unlike the polygamist cult members we see on TV. The Church of Paul and Peter, Barnabas and Stephen was alive with debate and disagreement, between themselves as well as with the Jews and Gentiles. Yet God saw fit to entrust the Church in the hands of these cantankerous, stubborn, hardheaded saints and sinners. There might be a lesson in all this for the saints and sinners of today's Church as well. Too often we may think that those who don't agree with us somehow don't agree with God, or those who do not side with us are opposed to the Church itself.

Yet God's ways are not our ways, and what may be the most remarkable fact of our faith is that we who profess to love God and be one in Christ can at the same time be so diverse even in our oneness.

It seems to be part of the plan.

Greg Erlandson is president and publisher of Our Sunday Visitor.