As I suspect was the case with many of you,
I was transfixed last week by the first images
coming from the James Webb Space Telescope.
They were not only beautiful,
but they made visible
the immense size of the cosmos,
in which vast galaxies appear as tiny spots of light,
as well as its immense age,
capturing light that originated from stars
thirteen billion years ago,
at the very dawn of the universe.
I was transfixed last week by the first images
coming from the James Webb Space Telescope.
They were not only beautiful,
but they made visible
the immense size of the cosmos,
in which vast galaxies appear as tiny spots of light,
as well as its immense age,
capturing light that originated from stars
thirteen billion years ago,
at the very dawn of the universe.
That vastness-made-visible awakened in me
feelings like those expressed by the 17th-century
scientist and philosopher, Blaise Pascal:
“When I consider the short duration of my life,
swallowed up in an eternity before and after,
the little space I fill engulfed in the infinite immensity
of spaces whereof I know nothing,
and which know nothing of me, I am terrified.
The eternal silence of these infinite spaces frightens me.”
And yet, at the same time,
these very same images elicited in me
a sense of wonder and gratitude,
and the thought that
what is important about human beings
is not our physical place in the universe,
but the fact that we,
fragile creatures that live
on a small rocky formation
in an obscure corner of the cosmos,
sustained and protected
by a thin layer of gas clinging to its surface,
limited in time and space,
can look up into those silent, infinite spaces
and bring into ourselves
the vastness and beauty of the universe
through the miracle of thought and understanding.
Pascal went on to say:
“By space the universe encompasses
and swallows me as an atom…
by thought I comprehend the world.
Man is but a reed,
the most feeble thing in nature;
but he is a thinking reed.”
Our discovery of the scope of the cosmos
should increase our sense of awe and wonder
at the power of God’s creative activity
and at the immense privilege of being
witnesses to that activity,
the glory of knowing even a small slice
of what God is doing in creation.
these very same images elicited in me
a sense of wonder and gratitude,
and the thought that
what is important about human beings
is not our physical place in the universe,
but the fact that we,
fragile creatures that live
on a small rocky formation
in an obscure corner of the cosmos,
sustained and protected
by a thin layer of gas clinging to its surface,
limited in time and space,
can look up into those silent, infinite spaces
and bring into ourselves
the vastness and beauty of the universe
through the miracle of thought and understanding.
Pascal went on to say:
“By space the universe encompasses
and swallows me as an atom…
by thought I comprehend the world.
Man is but a reed,
the most feeble thing in nature;
but he is a thinking reed.”
Our discovery of the scope of the cosmos
should increase our sense of awe and wonder
at the power of God’s creative activity
and at the immense privilege of being
witnesses to that activity,
the glory of knowing even a small slice
of what God is doing in creation.
This sense of awe mixed with terror,
this sense of a mystery beating in the heart of things
and holding our universe in existence,
is something we as Christians share with all people,
even those who do not call this mystery
by the name “God.”
Who knows?
Perhaps this sense of awe and mystery
is shared by other intelligent beings—
other “thinking reeds”—
living on other rocky formations
in other obscure corners of the cosmos.
this sense of a mystery beating in the heart of things
and holding our universe in existence,
is something we as Christians share with all people,
even those who do not call this mystery
by the name “God.”
Who knows?
Perhaps this sense of awe and mystery
is shared by other intelligent beings—
other “thinking reeds”—
living on other rocky formations
in other obscure corners of the cosmos.
But, St. Paul reminds us today,
our Christian faith tells us
that there is an even greater mystery
at work in our world,
for the infinite creative force
that holds the universe in existence
has come to dwell among us in the flesh,
a fragile reed among other fragile reeds,
so that we might know the fullness
of the riches of his glory
and live eternally in the light of that glory.
Paul makes it his life’s work to reveal to all people
“the mystery hidden from ages
and from generations past”
but now made known to God’s holy ones:
the mystery of the infinite power of God
present among us in Jesus Christ crucified.
our Christian faith tells us
that there is an even greater mystery
at work in our world,
for the infinite creative force
that holds the universe in existence
has come to dwell among us in the flesh,
a fragile reed among other fragile reeds,
so that we might know the fullness
of the riches of his glory
and live eternally in the light of that glory.
Paul makes it his life’s work to reveal to all people
“the mystery hidden from ages
and from generations past”
but now made known to God’s holy ones:
the mystery of the infinite power of God
present among us in Jesus Christ crucified.
In our Gospel today we see
Mary of Bethany sitting at the feet of Jesus,
heedless of her sister’s complaints,
because she sees the mystery
that Martha is too busy to recognize:
that the creative force that forged the cosmos
and adorned it with such beauty
is present in the flesh,
as a human being,
in their home,
on a fragile rocky formation
in an obscure corner of the cosmos.
Mary sits at the feet of Jesus
because she knows that in his presence
she is in the presence of divine glory,
a glory surpassing the beauty
of the stars and galaxies and nebulae
that so captivated us this past week.
She has found the one thing necessary;
she has chosen the better part
and it will not be taken from her,
for it will lead her into eternity.
Mary of Bethany sitting at the feet of Jesus,
heedless of her sister’s complaints,
because she sees the mystery
that Martha is too busy to recognize:
that the creative force that forged the cosmos
and adorned it with such beauty
is present in the flesh,
as a human being,
in their home,
on a fragile rocky formation
in an obscure corner of the cosmos.
Mary sits at the feet of Jesus
because she knows that in his presence
she is in the presence of divine glory,
a glory surpassing the beauty
of the stars and galaxies and nebulae
that so captivated us this past week.
She has found the one thing necessary;
she has chosen the better part
and it will not be taken from her,
for it will lead her into eternity.
Pascal saw in the vastness of the cosmos
cause for both wonder and terror.
But he also saw within himself
an even more vast emptiness.
He wrote, “There is a God-shaped void
in the heart of each person
that cannot be satisfied
by any created thing
but only by God the Creator,
made know through Jesus Christ.”
The vastness of creation—
the unimaginable scope of space and time—
is mirrored within us by an equally vast yearning,
and knowing this vastness without knowing Jesus Christ
can lead us to despair,
for what hope can we fragile reeds have
amidst such immensity
if all we know is our own fragility?
But in Jesus Christ God has come among us
with a human face and a human heart
to fill the empty space within our own hearts,
to reveal to us the mystery of eternal love
here on this tiny rocky formation
in this obscure corner of the cosmos.
Pascal writes that because Christ shares
our human condition,
“Jesus is the God whom
we can approach without pride
and before whom
we can humble ourselves without despair.”
cause for both wonder and terror.
But he also saw within himself
an even more vast emptiness.
He wrote, “There is a God-shaped void
in the heart of each person
that cannot be satisfied
by any created thing
but only by God the Creator,
made know through Jesus Christ.”
The vastness of creation—
the unimaginable scope of space and time—
is mirrored within us by an equally vast yearning,
and knowing this vastness without knowing Jesus Christ
can lead us to despair,
for what hope can we fragile reeds have
amidst such immensity
if all we know is our own fragility?
But in Jesus Christ God has come among us
with a human face and a human heart
to fill the empty space within our own hearts,
to reveal to us the mystery of eternal love
here on this tiny rocky formation
in this obscure corner of the cosmos.
Pascal writes that because Christ shares
our human condition,
“Jesus is the God whom
we can approach without pride
and before whom
we can humble ourselves without despair.”
Paul tells us that Christ in us is the hope for glory,
a glory surpassing anything
that we poor thinking reeds can conceive.
As we ponder the beauty
a glory surpassing anything
that we poor thinking reeds can conceive.
As we ponder the beauty
and terror of the cosmos,
let us ponder as well
the hope of glory revealed in Christ,
and let us pray that God would give us that hope,
that God would fill us with that glory,
and that God would have mercy on us all.
and let us pray that God would give us that hope,
that God would fill us with that glory,
and that God would have mercy on us all.
