RE: What could a omnipotent God want with the worship of humans?
November 20, 2014 at 12:49 pm
(This post was last modified: November 20, 2014 at 12:50 pm by Lemonvariable72.)
(November 20, 2014 at 12:45 pm)Drich Wrote:(November 20, 2014 at 10:52 am)Lemonvariable72 Wrote: Do you demand your children worship you?
As per my response to Jen-A yes!!! and so does everyone else!
Except your reponse is simply wrong. May animals maintain close relationships with offspring. Such as: Dogs, chimpanzees, dolphins, elephants, and many species of whale. And even still, maintaining a relationship with someone is much different then worshiping them.
(November 20, 2014 at 12:45 pm)Drich Wrote:Because 98% of the animals on this planet don't even have a developed thelamus (spelling?)(November 20, 2014 at 10:52 am)Lemonvariable72 Wrote: Do you demand your children worship you?
As per my response to Jen-A yes!!! and so does everyone else!
(November 20, 2014 at 12:43 pm)Jenny A Wrote: emphasis added
Hardly. Being a good grandmother or grandfather does have evolutionary advantages because it increases the possibility that your progeny will continue, which is what natural selection selects for. Not surprisingly there are many species, admittedly mostly primates, in which continued the support of older sisters and mothers is the primary factor in determining whether a first time mother will successfully raise her young to adulthood. And there are other species that do similar things. Elephant herds are matriarchies run by the great-grandma.
If this were true then why does 98% of everything living on this planet not follow this model?
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
