My siblings and I share a stepdad. Whenever we have a success to report, however modest, he will smile with pride and announce, “It’s all in the genes.” This is a joke, of course, because we have no biological relationship. It’s his way of celebrating the moment.
Yet the seriousness with which Western medicine regards DNA is not a joke. DNA tests can exonerate people wrongly imprisoned. Genetic engineers are close to being able to customize genes to produce certain traits and to predicting an infant’s susceptibility to various hereditary diseases.
Identity based on our forebears’ vulnerabilities would plunk mankind into an arbitrary universe where chance calls all the shots. Something in us wants to shout in protest: “But I’m somebody. I’m important. Surely I have a purpose.” Christ, the true idea of all that is good, champions our innate desire to connect with the certainty of universal good.
