The universe was simpler then,he noted,a mere dot comprising perhaps only one kind of force and one kind of particle.Now it has many kinds of forces,scores of different particles,and contains everything from stars and galaxies to dandelions,elephants and the poems of Keats.Complexity,I began to see from that tower,is part of God’s plan.Deep down,we sense that we speak,disparagingly,of a“simpleton”.Nobody wants to be guilty of“simplistic”thinking.But blinding ourselves to complexity can be dangerous.Once I bought a home.I liked its setting so much I unconsciously avoided probing into its possible defects.After it was mine,I found it needed insulation,roofing,a new heating system,new windows,a new septic system—everything.That old house became an albatross,costing far more than I could afford;the cost in stress was even higher.I had refused to look at the complexities.Even ordinary finances are rarely simple—what does your insurance policy actually cover?Yet,economics are simplicity itself compared with moral questions.One afternoon when I was ten,I found myself the leader of an after-school gaggle of boys.I had to divert them quickly,I knew,or my career as leader would be brief.And then I saw Joe.Joe was an Eiffel Tower of a kid,an incipient giant.His family had emigrated from Europe,and he had a faint accent.“Let’s get him!”I said.
My little troop of Goths swarmed upon Joe.Somebody snatched his hat and we played catch with it.Joe ran home,and I took his hat as a trophy.That night,our doorbell rang.Joe’s father,a worried-looking farmer with a thick accent,asked for Joe’s hat.I returned it sheepishly.“Please don’t upset Joe,”he said earnestly.“He has asthma.When he has an attack,it is hard for him to get better.”I felt a lead softball in my chest.The next evening I walked to Joe’s house.He was in the garden,tilling the soil;he watched me warily as I walked up.I asked if I could help.“Okay,”he said.After that I went often to help him and we became best friends.I had taken a step toward adulthood.Inside myself I had seen possibilities,like a tangle of wires.This red wire was the possibility for evil,which requires no more than ignoring another’s pain.And here was the white wire of sympathy.I could have a hand in connecting all those wires—it was a matter of the decisions I made.I had discovered complexity,and found in it an opportunity to choose,to grow.Its price is responsibility.Perhaps,that is one reason why we yearn for the simple life.In a way,we want to be children,to let someone else carry the awkward backpack of responsibility.We are like wheat,here on earth to ripen.We ripen intellectually by letting in as much of the universe’s complexity as we can.Morally we ripen by making our choices.And we ripen spiritually by opening our eyes to Creation’s endless detail.