Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory in the heavens. Through the praise of children and infants you have established a stronghold against your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger. When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them? You have made them a little lower than the angels and crowned them with glory and honor. You made them rulers over the works of your hands; you put everything under their feet: all flocks and herds, and the animals of the wild, the birds in the sky, and the fish in the sea, all that swim the paths of the seas.
Lord,
our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! (Psalm 8:1-9)
On Valentine’s
Day, 1990, Voyager I took a picture of Earth from 3.7 billion miles
away. For some, looking at that picture is about seeing how small and
vulnerable our home is. For others, it’s about seeing how insignificant and
worthless it, and by extension we are. I’ve also heard people who mock the Biblical
description of man because it degrades man by saying we’re made from the dust
or dirt. Those same folks may be the ones who are impressed by the following
comment:
Our
Sun is a second- or third-generation star. All of the rocky and metallic
material we stand on, the iron in our blood, the calcium in our teeth, the
carbon in our genes were produced billions of years ago in the interior of a
red giant star. We are made of star-stuff. (Carl Sagan).
They’re
also likely to forget that according to evolutionary theory, we first came into
being in primordial ooze. Returning to the quote, we came out of ooze that was made
up of the corpse dust or smoke from giant balls of gas and plasma exploding.
Not exactly a step up from “the dust of the earth.” The main difference is that
creation involves someone or something making choices about what happened to
the dust, while evolution involves nothing but chance. There is no dignity in
evolution. We are no better than pond scum and any pretense that we are better
is hubris.
But according
to today’s passage, though we may look at the pale blue dot in the picture and at
the many other pictures of the universe, and in awe, wonder what possible place
we have in it, dusty as we are. But the truth, as described in the passage, is
that we are a little lower than angels. We’re crowned with glory and honor. We
have the job of overseeing the world and all the creatures in it.
We have
not done a good job but that may not be the first point we need to notice. What
does your hierarchy look like? According to today’s passage, it should look something like this:
God
Angels
Man
all
flocks and herds, and the animals of the wild, the birds in the sky, and the
fish in the sea, all that swim the paths of the seas.
Now,
just how much space do you put between the various levels? I would tend to put
God about 93 billion lightyears (the size of the universe) above angels. That’s
still probably too close, but we need a visual. According to the passage, man
is only a little lower than angels, but above animals. Now, in comparison to 93
billion light years, 93 million miles (the distance from the sun to the Earth)
is insignificant. The question of how little a little lower is. The distance from
the Sun to the Earth is small even compared with the distance from Earth to the
Voyager I in 1990. And if we were to claim that animals are 9.3 miles
lower than humans, or 93, 930, or 9.3 million miles, the point is that we were
created to be a little lower than the angels, and to rule over the animals. The
next question to consider is how far below the flocks, herds, animals, birds,
and fish the plants are, and how far below the plants whatever additional
levels of creation you care to posit exist.
No
matter how many levels, or how far apart the levels are, the key remains that man
is only a little lower than angels. We aren’t vermin. We aren’t the scum of the
earth. Even the basest human is still only a little lower than the angels, and above
the animals.
There’s
part of me that argues with this passage. Instead of making it about how wonderful
God is and what an amazing gift He has given us in making us only a little
lower than the angels, it becomes a “one-downmanship” competition in which we
look at ourselves and each other and call God a liar. But the thing that seems
to be helping me fit where we belong in the hierarchy is to take my place within
the hierarchy. As I learn how to function as higher than the animals and as
their lord, I get too busy or involved to focus on where I fit in the rankings
and, I think, more willing to accept my place because where I am matters.
None of
that really deals with what about the passage and the view God has of me
described within touches me. The touch isn’t a pat on the head or the back. It’s
more like the touch of a physical therapist wiggling my kneecap around and pulling
the bones of my knee apart just a little so that maybe, with exercise, my knee
will function more as it’s supposed to.

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