The Edge of the Universe


In 1965, two scientists by the name of Arno Penzias and Robert Wilson were attempting to set up a large communications antenna in Holmdel, New Jersey. But their efforts produced an annoying background noise, a “steady, steamy hiss that made any experimental work impossible.” They did everything they could to make it stop: re-wiring circuits, fidgeting with knobs, unplugging plugs; their efforts culminated when they climbed into the dish itself and scrubbed it clean of all dust and- get this- copious amounts of bird poop. Still, the buzz continued.

As it turns out, Penzias and Wilson had inadvertently discovered microwaves from the edge of the known universe, 90 billion trillion miles away. These two men had succeeded in “looking” deep enough into space so as to find cosmic, background radiation left over from the origin of the universe itself.

“Oh, so it wasn’t bird poop?”

I’m having my (annual) mid-life crisis. It started while I was waiting for a friend to pick me up from my apartment; we’d arranged to go biking together. He was late so I idled around the parking lot, glancing at my phone, nodding to people walking by and tried desperately not to look like a prom date that’s being stood up.

Even though it was just a few minutes, I felt as if I might go insane without something demanding my immediate attention. My mind raced to corners of contemplation that scared the bejesus out of me: what a perfect day- how many of these do we get in a lifetime? And what is a lifetime really? What’s the purpose of it? Of this? Of conscience existence? Of everything?!

And I thought of those scientists, a half-century ago in New Jersey, who were scraping off bird poop, inadvertently ridding themselves of discovering the edge of the universe.

We humans like to attach time to things: obligations, appointments, jobs, events, calendars, all of a linear nature, all to help us comprehend our own niche in eternity. I’m no different. I wake up and I go to the office; I come home, work out, make dinner, read a book, watch some TV, balance the checkbook, brush my teeth, swap pillows while my wife’s in the bathroom (we both have a favorite pillow but if I swipe it before she’s in bed she really doesn’t notice) and I go to sleep.

This is life, my life. And I love it. And if you gave me the chance I wouldn’t change anything (except perhaps my pillow). Just the notion that I could feels like da Vinci asking me what alterations to make on the Mona Lisa. But then I find myself in a moment of stillness and I realize how little of this life I conscientiously live.

My wife and I picked strawberries this afternoon. She was smiling, it was sunny, and our fingers were pink with juice from the ones that were a bit too ripe. She held up our crate of berries and I took a picture, for posterity, social media and the hope of setting glaze on this particular moment in our time together. And I thought that perhaps, someday, the sun might shine like this forever.

These are the moments of peace and stillness, moments of conscientious existence that comfort and terrify me, moments when thoughts ricochet in my head, making a sound that mystifies and terrifies at the same time.

So this is the part where I get preachy and talk about how I resolved to be more present in every moment and we walked hand-in-hand to a lifetime of carpe diem-ness. But I didn’t and we’ve not; if you must know, when we got back in the car we began quarreling about the air conditioning.

Life is a journey- a linear one, because that’s all we know how to live. We’re born, scrape our knees, lose our teeth, earn degrees, fall in love, write poetry, get promotions, take medicine, build homes and swing-sets and pass on the best of our wisdom and lottery of our genes to another generation. Then we retire (to Florida, God help us) and things come to an end. We move always forward, aching for the immortality to step into the universe beyond our own.

So, at the end of it all, maybe I’ll find myself sitting around in a body that barely works anymore. And I’ll feel like all of the time in the world is behind me, pushing me towards the edge everything I know. And, if I can, I’ll hold for a moment and stop to look back.

But there’ll be nothing to see, because it’s all beyond and here now, around me and with me. And it will be something beautiful, something which, before now, was completely unknown.

And all this time we thought it was bird poop.





Regarding The Pandemonium That Followed Pope Francis’ Statement On Evolution

On Monday, Pope Francis gave a speech to the Pontifical Academy of Sciences in Vatican City. In this speech, Francis made several statements proclaiming that evolutionary theory and the Biblical account of creation are not incompatible.

Said Francis:

“The Big Bang, which nowadays is posited as the origin of the world, does not contradict the divine act of creating, but rather requires it…Evolution in nature is not inconsistent with the notion of creation, because evolution requires the creation of beings that evolve.”

Which caused some Christians to go:

Buuuuuutttt most of Evangelical Conservative Christendom went:

Personally, however, I’m thinking:

Two things:

1) If you are not Catholic, then this statement really is of little concern to you. As a Protestant, there’s much bigger (potential) differences between me and the Pope than whether or not we both hold to a literal reading of Genesis. So let’s all please take a deep breath, read some Luther, and realize there’s much bigger fish to fry.

2) If you are a Catholic then:

a) Erhmergawd! Thanks for reading my blog!!!!! and

b) The teaching that the Bible and evolution are not incompatible is nothing new. As summed up brilliantly in this here article (which you really should take a moment to read) the Church’s primary concern is not the nuts and bolts of how creation happened but the fact that God instituted, ordained, oversaw, implemented, did, made, pick-a-verb, the cosmos. The means by which this came about is a debate the Church has historically left to scientists claiming that, as theologians, we have little knowledge and expertise in the scientific realm. If you think I’m fibbing, note that in 1950 Pope Pius XII proclaimed there was no opposition to Catholic doctrine in the theory of evolution, a statement which was endorsed by St. John Paul II in 1996. So disagree if you like; but this is hardly news.

Be it option one or option two, we should probably stop freaking out.

Because God made the cosmos; this is the overarching reality of which all Christendom be it Catholics, Lutherans, Calvinists, Pentecostals or Independents can all agree. To debate over the exact manner in which this occurred would be akin to a pair of toddler twins arguing over which hotel, which bottle of wine and which Norah Jones track led to the moment of their conception; regardless of any resolution, we’ll never know for sure. And our Father, in His infinite wisdom, isn’t going to sit us down and fill in the details. At least not yet.

So if you’re a scientist and researching this particular topic of interest is one means by which you bring glory to God…then, by all means, have at it. If you’re a theologian and want to swap Mosaic exegetical notes late into the night while tossing around words like ‘supralapsarianism’… be my guest. But don’t use evidence for a specific interpretation of Scripture as a sword with which to attack the other side. You’re not doing anyone any good and you’re certainly not winning anyone to your viewpoint.

Thus we should stop freaking out. Or at least not act like any of this is news. And I’d really appreciate it if everyone would please, please shut up.

… because all this noise prevents me from listening to Taylor Swift’s new album. And that’s a serious issue.