Quantum Physics

I understand little about quantum physics, and understanding a very little may be worse than understanding nothing; what I think I know could be absolutely wrong.  But at least I understand that I don’t understand.

What I read of quantum mechanics and black holes and the stupendous nature of the fraction of the universe we have been able to peek into puts me into a state of awe and wonder.  I don’t even need a Hubble telescope to reach reverence like this; I can find it gazing at a full moon, or a hummingbird.

What I read about quantum mechanics tells me that at the extremes of the physical world, such as they observe with black holes, the normal rules of physics cease to apply.  As if that weren’t enough to boggle the mind, scientists also say they now calculate that everything in the universe—everything:  all matter, energy, and even gravity and time itself—came into existence in a single moment 13 billion years ago.  (If that sounds to you like a reflection of Genesis, you’re not alone.)

I’m sorry for the gobbledygook; what I’m trying to say here is that our knowledge is finite, while our ignorance is unbounded.  We have limits.  And we don’t like limits.  That is certainly a confirmation of Genesis.

Mixed in with the awe I feel, and the sense of my own ignorance, is fear.  I experience the overwhelming magnitude of creation and the insignificance of my own place within it.  This fear too is holy.  (King David spoke of this in the Psalms: “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him?”)

The point to me is that this fear, this humility, is not there to freeze us; it forces us to move forward in faith.

When I first encountered the story of William Wallace, I felt both awe and fear.  When the time came (a time driven by desperation) to write it, I knew I was ignorant of many historical details.  Many of these details were not only unknown but unknowable because first-hand accounts of his life didn’t exist.  I plunged into the story, led not by scholarly research but by the belief that what inspired me about William Wallace’s life must be similar to what inspired those who followed him in his own time.

I wasn’t writing to tell what I’d discovered; I was writing in order to discover.

I recently heard an interview with Paul McCartney, who said something similar.  McCartney is the Mozart of our time, and he’s still writing music and lyrics.  What keeps him doing it, he said, is the discovery; he never knows where a song  will lead, and he writes to find out.

Accepting our own ignorance and standing before a mystery is the first step toward creation and growth in anything—all art and all science, and in all great human adventures like love and family.

What does all this have to do with why I believe in the Resurrection?  It’s a matter of openness.  If I believed I knew everything, I could say that such a thing was truly impossible.

But when I look at the heavens, the work of God’s fingers, the moon and the stars which God has set in place, I have the sense He can do anything.

-Randall