This is quite nice, this thought that weeds is more a function than a species. It's definitely worth thinking about. And I do love the distinction between not wanting any to be destroyed vs. all. I'm not entirely sure I agree with it entirely, that it lets any god-head off the hook for the problem of evil entirely, but it seems like a more fruitful (no pun intended) way to think about these things than the old dilemma of how an all-powerful God could let suffering occur.
If I could offer another way of thinking about this: I was talking over on Tumblr not too long ago about the Valar in Tolkien's The Silmarillion. I'm not sure how familiar you are with that, but they're something a little similar to small-g gods like the Greek or Norse pantheons, or possibly archangels, with important differences but they're in that same basic neighborhood of the mythos. Powerful, timeless celestials who incarnate themselves so they can play a role in a more time-bound cosmos. They're basically given a preview of the cosmic history and so want to make it a reality that they lay aside a lot of their power, enter into time at the beginning and try to start the process so that history can unfold.
Of course as is usually the case with these things, one of them goes rogue and becomes the Ur-Villain, and they have to decide how to resist him. There's great god-level wars with all the destruction you'd expect, earthquakes and flooding and the like, and eventually most of the Valar withdraw into this paradise they can control, and leave their brother to basically rule over the rest of the world. So there's a lot of destruction and pain you could lay at their feet, first by engaging in a way that basically ruined the world and then by withdrawing and abandoning the elves and men and other people that are also on the scene. They're not all-powerful (the Valar) but neither is Melkor the chief baddie, They have resources. So the big question I was coming up against was: why are they so bad at preventing all this suffering to begin with? Is it just incompetence or their limitations, or what exactly?
(I hope I'm not telling you what you already know, or telling it badly!)
The thought I eventually came up with was, the Valar were there in the first place to make things happen. They had a sneak-peak, as it were, of something they knew needed to be made real and that was important enough they basically made it their life's work. They committed themselves to it entirely to the point they made themselves part of it all. It's part of the mythos that good (or God-intended is perhaps a better word) can often come from bad, that Melkor thinks he's rebelling but he's really bringing the Big Plan into action. So by keeping bad things from happening they're really just keeing things full-stop from happening, which is not why they're there.
Putting it in terms of your garden metaphor: even if you could tell weeds from roses, or tares from wheat, if you eliminated them in a very real sense you wouldn't have a garden anymore. Or at least you wouldn't have something as alive as if you let things grow naturally. Maybe the point isn't individual plants at all, but the whole ecosystem, which becomes something else entirely if you try to interfere too much?
I'm not sure how I feel about that once you move beyond metaphor to real life, or even narratives where the characters are supposed to be thought of as "real" at some level. Where there's real (or "real") suffering at work. Frankly, the thought makes me a little uncomfortable, like our pain doesn't count for as much as I feel like it should. But as a thought experiment, it's reorienting and humbling enough that it seems worth thinking through.
Enough blathering. Thanks for sharing this. I did enjoy thinking through what you said.
no subject
If I could offer another way of thinking about this: I was talking over on Tumblr not too long ago about the Valar in Tolkien's The Silmarillion. I'm not sure how familiar you are with that, but they're something a little similar to small-g gods like the Greek or Norse pantheons, or possibly archangels, with important differences but they're in that same basic neighborhood of the mythos. Powerful, timeless celestials who incarnate themselves so they can play a role in a more time-bound cosmos. They're basically given a preview of the cosmic history and so want to make it a reality that they lay aside a lot of their power, enter into time at the beginning and try to start the process so that history can unfold.
Of course as is usually the case with these things, one of them goes rogue and becomes the Ur-Villain, and they have to decide how to resist him. There's great god-level wars with all the destruction you'd expect, earthquakes and flooding and the like, and eventually most of the Valar withdraw into this paradise they can control, and leave their brother to basically rule over the rest of the world. So there's a lot of destruction and pain you could lay at their feet, first by engaging in a way that basically ruined the world and then by withdrawing and abandoning the elves and men and other people that are also on the scene. They're not all-powerful (the Valar) but neither is Melkor the chief baddie, They have resources. So the big question I was coming up against was: why are they so bad at preventing all this suffering to begin with? Is it just incompetence or their limitations, or what exactly?
(I hope I'm not telling you what you already know, or telling it badly!)
The thought I eventually came up with was, the Valar were there in the first place to make things happen. They had a sneak-peak, as it were, of something they knew needed to be made real and that was important enough they basically made it their life's work. They committed themselves to it entirely to the point they made themselves part of it all. It's part of the mythos that good (or God-intended is perhaps a better word) can often come from bad, that Melkor thinks he's rebelling but he's really bringing the Big Plan into action. So by keeping bad things from happening they're really just keeing things full-stop from happening, which is not why they're there.
Putting it in terms of your garden metaphor: even if you could tell weeds from roses, or tares from wheat, if you eliminated them in a very real sense you wouldn't have a garden anymore. Or at least you wouldn't have something as alive as if you let things grow naturally. Maybe the point isn't individual plants at all, but the whole ecosystem, which becomes something else entirely if you try to interfere too much?
I'm not sure how I feel about that once you move beyond metaphor to real life, or even narratives where the characters are supposed to be thought of as "real" at some level. Where there's real (or "real") suffering at work. Frankly, the thought makes me a little uncomfortable, like our pain doesn't count for as much as I feel like it should. But as a thought experiment, it's reorienting and humbling enough that it seems worth thinking through.
Enough blathering. Thanks for sharing this. I did enjoy thinking through what you said.