Because the most familiar picture is also the one that has the most trouble surviving its first contact with the night sky.
The default picture is a person somewhere who made things, who watches things, and who occasionally does things.
A father figure sometimes, a king sometimes, a craftsman.
This picture is old.
It is very old.
It precedes any of the religions that currently use it.
You can find versions of it in Mesopotamian tablets four thousand years old.
You can find versions in the early Egyptian pyramid texts.
The basic gesture, a person-shaped agent on a larger scale than us, responsible for what happens, appears so often across so many cultures that it seems to be a deep human reflex rather than a teaching anyone needed to invent.
And it's not a stupid picture.
I want to say that clearly because it's easy to be condescending about it, and the condescension misses something important.
The child has only the experience of being looked after by larger beings, parents, grandparents, teachers, who know more, who can do more, who occasionally intervene to fix things that the child can't fix.
The picture of a very large, very kind, very capable parent who looks after everything is the most natural extrapolation from that experience.
It's how a small mind reaches for the largest thing it can imagine.
There is something tender about it.
But the picture has been losing ground slowly for about four hundred years.
That sounds like a small observation.
It was not a small observation.
It was the beginning of the slow erosion of the picture in which the human story sits at the center of the cosmos with a person-shaped agent attending to it.
What followed over the next four centuries was a steady shrinking of the picture's territory.
Each generation of telescopes pushed the cosmos outward to other planets, to other stars, to other galaxies, to a hundred billion galaxies, each with a hundred billion stars.
Because the most familiar picture is also the one that has the most trouble surviving its first contact with the night sky.
The default picture is a person somewhere who made things, who watches things, and who occasionally does things.
A father figure sometimes, a king sometimes, a craftsman.
This picture is old.
It is very old.
It precedes any of the religions that currently use it.
You can find versions of it in Mesopotamian tablets four thousand years old.
You can find versions in the early Egyptian pyramid texts.
The basic gesture, a person-shaped agent on a larger scale than us, responsible for what happens, appears so often across so many cultures that it seems to be a deep human reflex rather than a teaching anyone needed to invent.
And it's not a stupid picture.
I want to say that clearly because it's easy to be condescending about it, and the condescension misses something important.
The child has only the experience of being looked after by larger beings, parents, grandparents, teachers, who know more, who can do more, who occasionally intervene to fix things that the child can't fix.
The picture of a very large, very kind, very capable parent who looks after everything is the most natural extrapolation from that experience.
It's how a small mind reaches for the largest thing it can imagine.
There is something tender about it.
But the picture has been losing ground slowly for about four hundred years.
That sounds like a small observation.
It was not a small observation.
It was the beginning of the slow erosion of the picture in which the human story sits at the center of the cosmos with a person-shaped agent attending to it.
What followed over the next four centuries was a steady shrinking of the picture's territory.
Each generation of telescopes pushed the cosmos outward to other planets, to other stars, to other galaxies, to a hundred billion galaxies, each with a hundred billion stars.
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