The oldest man, Methusaleh, according to the Bible, lived until age 969. Now he comes to life every few minutes within a life-size fiberglass dummy at The Creation Museum in Petersburg, Kentucky. You’ve traveled hundreds of miles to witness “the truth” behind pseudoscience, and here it is prefaced by an animatronic figure dressed like Merlin. “Whatever God Says is True,” says Methusaleh, extending a robotic arm to you. Whether you believe the old man’s statement or not, his theory will carry you throughout your pilgrimage.
Enter the Creation Museum, and you feel you have walked into any large-scale exhibit house. Then you’ll stroll along the Dragon Hall leading to the ticket desk, and you’ll realize this is the only museum you might visit in which centuries-old myths stand as evidence for ancient life. After being handed your $30 ticket, you’ll walk past three armed guards wearing guns, tasers, badges that read “Answers in Genesis,” then a fudge stand that looks like a truck-sized version of your childhood play-dough kit. Little do you know that you’ll be embarking on a journey of Christian politics at the height of its craft.
The entrance aisle stands between a raised display of a raptor standing beside a kneeling cavewoman and an aquarium full of live amphibians. An archaeology scene welcomes you with your first splash of rhetoric. You walk up to a true-to-size sculpture of two paleontologists standing over a half-exposed dinosaur skeleton. One identifies himself as a Christian and the other an atheist. They each explain their processes for dating the bones beneath them.
“Every person must start with their own arbitrary philosophy as a starting point for evaluating everything around them,” states the Christian archaeologist.
It dawns on you that biblical literalists have systematized a semi-scientific method for construction of a timeline beginning 6,000 years ago. You wonder if it works like condensing an image file: downsizing the scale, but conserving proportion.
You walk through the Garden of Eden, which smells like wet wipes and sunscreen acid. Words form Genesis vibrate from a ceiling speaker spouting Bible passages recited by the deep and lyrical voice of a Polish Rabbi. Fake trees populate this womb-like oasis. Here is Eve, whose skin, facial structure, and waist-length auburn hair remind you of the paddle-tennis-playing suburban housewife who used to employ you as a dog-sitter. Her long hair covers her breasts, and she reaches one hand out to touch Adam’s hand. Adam leans back from Eve as if she’s transmitted an electric shock. A dinosaur poised on a crag cocks his head at the budding romance.
This was the time when nothing was eaten.
There was a time when nothing was wrong.
You enter another wing of The Garden which, literally, walks you through the extent to which perfection reigned before The Fall.
“No poison!” barks one sign.
“No burdensome work!”
This pre-knowledge world instills such serenity that you’re tempted to pet the raptor poised beyond the rope separating you from the display, but a sign explicitly prohibits raptor-petting. You remember that even in the most idealized Abrahamic times, certain privileges were forbidden.
From here you learn about Noah’s Ark. You read how God doesn’t love Evolution, but He does love Unity, and how appreciation for the perfection of God’s design demands us to embrace people of all races and abilities. Near the conclusion of the exhibit, you’re spit into a book store in which you can buy more fudge, and you finally exit through a world-class insect collection which teaches us to appreciate the dirt-crawlers designed to eat our refuse. God does think of everything, after all.
Thanks, Methusaleh, for sticking around.
Two strains of rhetoric stuck out the most:
- Adherence to creationism over science hinges on the fact that Christian faith cannot exist without trust in Genesis.
The Creation Museums goes as far as to say that the foundation of Christian faith rests on the first eleven chapters of Genesis.
What is it that makes biblical philosophy stand at odds with pure science?
According to the creation narrative, there was no death before the fall. Deny this, and the foundations of Christianity crumble. Pure science tells us that dinosaurs died before humans, but Christians know there was no death before Eve brought sin to The Garden.
Some Christian theorists have tried to reconcile science with Genesis by saying the days (“Yom” in Hebrew) in which the earth was created could have each represented hundreds of thousands of years.
This doesn’t fly with the literalists. The expanded interpretation of “yom” would mean that death would have existed before humans arrived on the 6th day. If we are to combine the truisms from Methusaleh and the Christian paleontologist–whatever God says is true and all must stem from this philosophy–there’s little wiggle room for literalists and scientists to shake hands.
Humans and dinosaurs found death from the same fruit, and there is no getting around it.
2. Christianity’s emphasis on “rule” sustains empowerment for faith-based communities.
You may or may not find fulfillment in the small town landscape, where Christian fundamentalism finds its common home. Some might call this “Forgotten America,” though within recent political developments this demographic is rising to the fore. We wonder what empowerment looks like for those of us who rely on faith. While I’m no expert on Christianity in the US, it makes sense that Christian literalists might find purpose, and even power, in the spiritual climb.
Walking through the wings of the Creation Museum, I took particular note of the rhetoric delivered by ambient biblical interpretations and wall plaques. One part of the message was clear: God invented man so he could “rule over His creations.”
As an aspiring anthropologist intrigued by people’s relationships to their surroundings, I wonder if devout Christians who are ambivalent towards academic or social elitism aspire to elitism in other ways. Don’t we all want to feel important, after all?
We are meant to benevolent rulers, insists The Creation Museum’s strain of literalism. The earth is humankind’s turf to govern, take from, and also protect. But even when guided by God, haven’t we learned from history (Biblical and other) that all rulers grow drunk with power?