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The Soul Matter

Last fall in Metaphysics—the study of what exists—we asked questions. Are we merely material parts? Are we just complicated organisms wired to survive? Or are we more than that? 

 A winding road off the fifteen brought Nathan, Felicity, and I to a small ranch to witness a wedding. Nestled in a valley of sorts, we gathered underneath a large tree. In the distance, the valley wall was lined with a copse of trees glowing in the fading light. The family processed in, the bridesmaids, and then the bride. When she saw her groom, she cried. In a voice that cracked, he told her, “I love you.”

The moment contrasted with a novel I recently read—A Brave New World. In it people live as cogs in a system, where the human race is propagated to survive. People live for work and pleasure and are drugged to give them illusionary happiness. Monogamy is not allowed, because real relationships are dangerous to the continuation of the human race. It reminded me of an entirely different book, Mrs. Dalloway— which follows one day in Mrs. Dalloway’s life as she prepares for a house party. All the inane details add up to her striving to connect with people and failing to do so. The party planning is nothing more than a ritual. These books identify something true. What does it matter if Mrs. Dalloway buys flowers? It’s a pointless action done by a cog.The characters in the books demonstrate lives that lack meaning, because they act like machines with no comprehension of love and happiness. The souls have been stripped from these characters, which is a stark contrast to the wedding.

Huxley used Shakespeare to inspire his book title. “O brave new world that has such people in it.” Only in the original context it wasn’t about a new race of men. Or should I saw machines? In the original, the girl sees the man she’d fall in love with and she wonders at his beauty. Love sees beyond the exterior appearance and is only possible if souls exist.  


Surrounded by people who care about them, the bride and groom said their vows. Something profound happened that was more than the words spoke, the clothes worn, and the trees that glowed. It was intangible to the naked eye, but resonated in the gathered communion. Through the trappings, shone the glory—humans, souled creatures, who love. It isn’t a brave new world; it’s an old world where people are more than machines. The emptiness of Mrs. Dalloway and the hallow horror of The Brave New World are dismissed.

Glory be. We have souls. 


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