Austin L. Hughes.

I am fearfully and wonderfully made," said the Psalmist, and I can find no better words than these ancient ones to sum up my emotions as we enter the genomic era of human biology. Reports in the media have trumpeted the alleged medical benefits of having a genomic sequence--benefits that remain in the future and have probably been exaggerated. Others have warned of the dangers of the misuse of genomic data--dangers that, though real, have no doubt also been exaggerated. But, as we stand on the threshold of this new era, it is important, I think, that we let neither our hopes nor our anxieties get in the way of our wonder.

As with any great scientific discovery, the sequencing of the human genome gives us a glimpse of creation in its pristine splendor. We are treading where no human has ever trod before, and learning things about ourselves we could never have imagined. Among other things, a complete genomic sequence provides the storybook of our past, the record of our evolutionary history. Millions of individual genetic events (mutation, recombination, and probably other kinds of events of which we are now unaware) have made our genomes what they are today, have left their traces in the DNA sequence. Along with wonder, fear is indeed appropriate. This is sacred ground.

The story of our beginnings, written in our DNA, tells of how from common chemical elements of the universe and over eons of time God fashioned for himself a being capable of knowing him and returning his love. (DNA is made up of carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, hydrogen, and phosphorus--"the dust of the ground," says Genesis.) We know there's more to the story: In spite of our indifference and even hostility, God loved us enough to become one of us, to take on our flesh (and our genome), to share all that we face on this earth, even a painful and humiliating death.

We say that "the" human genome has been sequenced, but really there is no such thing as "the" human genome. Of the 3.2 billion DNA base pairs making up each human genome, roughly 2 million differ between any two individuals picked at random from the population. There are 6 billion or so unique human genomes on this planet right now. Each of them provides a truly irreplaceable record, both of the history of our species in general and of the ancestry of the individual who bears it. Each of them, created for a unique place and time, guides the development of a unique individual. Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote: "Christ plays in ten thousand places...to the Father through the features of men's faces." Yes, and through the features of their genomes too. For in a way we cannot now understand, one human genome is forever glorified in the one who is "seated at the right hand of the Father."

In biology, perhaps the biggest impact of having a complete genomic sequence will be an impetus for new studies of protein function. We need to figure out the physiological role played by each of the proteins encoded by those 30,000-40,000 genes. Many of these discoveries will no doubt lead to greater understanding of disease processes and will suggest new treatments. As for our culture at large, it is perhaps too soon to tell what the impact of the genome era will be. At the very least, an appreciation of the complexity of the human genome should lead us away from the naive genetic reductionism that has been so prevalent for the past thirty years. Perhaps we'll see the end of simplistic talk about "a gene for intelligence" and the like.

But I'd also like to hope that sequencing of the genome will restore to our culture an appreciation for the miracle of life. A nation in which millions of unique, irreplaceable lives are snuffed out each year because they are inconvenient to someone is a nation that has lost all capacity for wonder. We have lost touch with our human story, especially the part about a God who loves each of us in all our prodigious diversity. If the amazing journey recorded in the DNA of each newly conceived human being--and the irreplaceable human life for which it holds the promise--can fire our imaginations, we may begin to recover the wonder we have lost.

Austin L. Hughes is professor of biological sciences at the University of South Carolina.