While warmly supporting it as a good event for the church, I was rather sceptical about a theological think tank - even one as sophisticated as Theos - commissioning a play on Darwin. It worried me that some version of the fabricated conversion story which circulated after his death might have been discretely slipped in, bringing the narrative to a triumphal end with the scientist being assumed in soul, if not in body into eternal bliss. My fears were unfounded. The story of Darwin ended perfectly unresolved, as indeed it should, and left us all asking the questions. Indeed, many of us stayed to do just that in conversation with Ian after the performance. While refraining from speculation on the whereabouts of Darwin’s soul, we can be certain that his body rests in Westminster Abbey where the play was first performed. We were taken on the long journey which took him there, from his youthful observations into nature; through the voyage of the Beagle; his delightfully politically incorrect analysis of the pros and cons of marriage, through On the Origin of Species and subsequent controversy. Alongside this painstaking scientific quest, we have the often painful personal journey movingly intertwined, particularly around the death of his beloved daughter Annie. The story came alive through the use of an abundance of original documentation in the script by Murray Watts, including his personal account of his mind and character, not fully released by his family until 1958. In this we hear his view candidly, ‘I can indeed hardly see how anyone ought to wish Christianity to be true; for if so the plain language of the text seems to show that the men who do not believe, and this would include my Father, Brother and almost all my best friends, will be everlastingly punished.’. Some wondered afterwards whether more liberal expressions of belief in our own time would have allowed Darwin to see his own inner struggle as illusory. Andrew Harrison’s 75-minute solo performance was breath-taking, as his moved in virtuoso fashion between different roles in a way what scarcely seems possible. While a student in Cambridge, Darwin visited the chapel at King’s to hear the music which made his backbone shiver. In later life, the changed state of his mind not longer allowed space for the appreciation of the arts. In that sense, the drama represented him as somehow tragically trapped by his own enquiries. Darwin is endlessly fascinating, and doubtless of use to scientists, and the Christian tradition seems to have expended much energy debating the points raised often with relatively little charity. Perhaps insight from another spiritual tradition can break the Abrahamic stalemate. Some 2500 years ago, the Buddhist scriptures warned that concerning ourselves with how we arrived here was merely futile speculation and would lead to ‘madness and vexation’. More important in contemplating the world around us was to note the interconnectedness of all living things, and treat them with compassion. Perhaps it’s time to stop worrying about Darwin, creationism, intelligent design and all other possible variants!