NGC-604 Nebula, located in M33 Galaxy; The destruction of an old star provides the materials for the birth of new stars.
And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven: and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it. (Genesis 28:12)
The recently observed feast of St Michael and All Angels (or “Michaelmas”, Sept 29, 2018) reminded me of something. The Old Testament reading from Genesis 28 conveyed the eerie and interesting story of Jacob’s dream of a nexus between Heaven and Earth, which occurred while he was on the run—he was a fugitive fleeing for his life after tricking his brother Esau. God showed him a vision of spiritual emissaries ascending and descending upon earth, and reassured him: “I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go”. When the terrified Jacob awoke, he thought,
”How dreadful is this place! this is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”
A few years ago I was participating in a very interesting observatory experience atop the peak of Mt Lemmon in Arizona. My family shivered under blankets and looked at distant galaxies and nebulae through the very powerful telescopes operated by the University of Arizona.
Later, our astronomer gave what was clearly supposed to be an inspiring pep talk. First he tried to drive home the nearly unimaginable immensity of our universe. Our sun is one of 250 billion stars in the Milky Way galaxy. The Milky Way is one of at least a couple hundred billion galaxies in the known universe. We are latecomers to an evolutionary process that has been ongoing for billions of years before our arrival on the scene. Our matter, the stuff of which we are made, was forged out of the explosive destruction of older stars. Our bodies, while we still draw breath, are furthermore bathed in, and replenished by, cosmic particles blown off by ancient supernovae. While this reflection may tend to make one feel insignificant, like a mere lonely speck in the vastness of the greater Cosmos, we can take some heart: “We are made of the same stardust,” he concluded, “and therefore in a very real way, we are connected to each other.”
Well-meaning as this is, the stardust platitude is a cold comfort to offer people in exchange for trading in Theism. (I don’t believe that embrace of the insights of science demands a rejection of God, but some do). Scientific materialism, as a worldview, offers little psychological benefit beyond the existentialist’s “freedom” of finite beings facing oblivion—you are a cosmic accident, so suck it up and and you can be your own “God” for a little while. Nothing actually matters, and no rules really apply to you. There is no Creator. Nothing is all that special about Earth or your place in it. There is no afterlife. You will be long forgotten by fellow humans, probably within your lifetime, but —“Hey, stardust!”
Christianity teaches that while humans indeed are small, this is not the entire story. We have a dignity that we don’t even begin to comprehend, and don’t deserve. Whatever else can be said about the mysterious account of “Jacob’s Ladder” it is this: Our world is indeed loved and cared for by the God of the Universe. We are more than just bits of congealed stardust in a forgotten and remote part of the Cosmos. Behind the scenes, powerful emissaries from the spiritual realms travel back and forth, signifying that God desires and maintains a connection with us. (Maybe we will learn that we are only one of trillions of worlds teeming with sentient life, but we are by no means abandoned). If God has this kind of connection with the remote and diminutive planet Earth, then take heart! He knows and loves you!
Praise be to God!