Awe

Sermon

When is the last time you were in awe of the heavens opening up and angels ascending and descending in front of you?

This past June, the science community was abuzz with an incredible discovery: Evidence of a low-pitch hum of gravitational waves vibrating throughout the entire universe. Anyone here heard about this? It confirmed Einstein’s theory of general relativity, that space and time are not as simple as they seem but a single connected entity, “space-time,” a flexible fabric that could be stretched and compressed, bent and warped.

Here’s how one astrophysicist put it: any object that moves, such as large star particles floating in space, orbiting black holes, or even two people “doing a do-si-do,” sends waves of distorted space-time that ripple outward into the universe like a pebble ripples into a pond; these are called gravitational waves. Scientists have long speculated that gravitational waves have been flooding the universe throughout the existence of time—with galaxies merging and stars forming and planets spinning—so that all these waves should be causing a collective low hum—hmmmmm—all around us.

And so a collective of astrophysicists, NANOGrav, studied the behavior of rapidly spinning stars called pulsars and basically observed that this super trippy, sci-fi phenomenon is very, very real. Quoting from The Atlantic, “Every proton and neutron in every atom from the tip of your toes to the top of your head is shifting, shuttling, and vibrating in a collective purr within which the entire history of the universe is implicated. And if you put your hand down on a chair or table or anything else nearby, that object, too, is dancing that slow waltz…” End quote.

We literally hold the remnants of the Big Bang, of the rise and fall of celestial bodies, of the cosmic pull of massive black holes and star systems, these millennia-long epics and phenomena pulsing in our bodies, connecting us with everything throughout time and connecting us with life all around us.

And what do we have to show for it? Our small little lives, with our petty little dramas, our absurd little grudges from that idiot that cut us off in traffic, our huge piles of little tasks, our stupid arguments over this or that thing. The timeline of the cosmos runs through my body, and I’ve spent hours of this past month Googling Taylor Swift gossip and Damian Lillard trade possibilities.

Are there angels right in front of us as life passes us by?

We’re not the only ones sitting in the crossroads between the VASTNESS of the universe and our iiiiiitty bitty place in it. Many of us are familiar with the grand vision of our Bible story, where Jacob encounters a dream of the heavens opening up and angels ascending and descending from heaven, and the booming voice of God announcing overarching promises to God’s Chosen Ones.

But we can’t forget that right before this happened in the Bible narrative, Jacob is not concerned with big lofty things. He’s in a petty family dispute.

Right before this, we find Jacob stealing from his father, Isaac, the birthright, and therefore the money, that belongs to his older brother Esau. You see, my man Jacob used some trickery involving putting lamb skin on his body to pretend to be hairy like his older brother in front of his dad, Isaac—I know, weird Bible stuff. And even more hot family gossip, Jacob got the idea from his mom, Rebekah, since Jacob’s her favorite son, but Esau is his DAD’s favorite son. So mommy and daddy are fighting over who gets the inheritance, and mom is meddling, taking advantage of dad being old and mostly blind. Listen, whoever told you the Bible is boring is lying, this stuff is juicy like the Kardashians up in here.

By the way, as an eldest brother of three myself, I am not saying I’m biased, but ESAU totally deserved that birthright, what gives? Jacob has jealous second-brother syndrome. Anyone here on Jacob’s side?

OK, so even MORE hot goss, Esau, obviously super mad, vows to kill his younger bro, so Rebekah tells Jacob to flee to his uncle Laban, daytime soap-opera style. Jacob goes and gets up out of there.

And it is here, in the middle of the wilderness on the run during a petty family dispute, that God and the angels and the universe show up.

What little dramas are you carrying with you right now? What, or who, are you running from?

What if I told you that our little dramas and hopes and dreams are somehow connected to the vast stars and movements of the universe?

What if I told you that in front of us, within us, behind us, something like angels of God are carrying the ripples of the small steps of our life journey up and down the gates of heaven, like galaxies and pulsars echoing their gravitational pull through space time? What if I told you the same spirit forces are also connecting us with one another, like a collective hum that vibrates through us all?

And what if I told you that the measure of the waves of your impact, of this metaphysical domino effect of your presence, was not the size of its fame or connection with material wealth, but by the immeasurable and wonderfully bizarre laws of Love, our participation in Love with one another, and in communion with the God who is Love?

If this were true, which is the bold claim of our thousands of years spiritual tradition, how would you live differently?

My 8-year-old son a few weeks ago had two friends over, and they played video games and ran around our home and had some snacks. After they left, he walks up to me and says, “That was probably the best day of my life.” Two days ago, I went with the kids and some of my friends to a Portland Thorns soccer game. We cheered on the team, and had some soda and popcorn, and my kids made jokes and high fived with the other kids there. And when we got home, my son walks up me and says, “That was probably the best day of my life.”

Of course with all we experience in life, it’s hard to hold on to that childlike sense of excitement and wonder and awe. And we also cannot hide behind a childish, naive sense, ignoring the evil and suffering of this world. But I wonder what it would look like to be more open to the awe and wonder of the heavens opening up all around us if we just took the time to look. To mark those moments like Jacob taking a stone and anointing it with oil to mark the place he encountered God.

My sermon to you, to me, is not that our petty little dramas don’t matter. In their own way, even the smallest of moments are intricately woven into the vast tapestry of the cosmos. But it is to say it is important sometimes to relativize the worries that can feel like the weight of the world as the small drops in the space-time continuum that they are, and yet on the other hand raise our tiny acts of Love, of Spirit-inspired, God-filled Love, to the impact level of massive stars dancing their dance in the night sky.

Maybe you should hug your loved one a little tighter when you can. Maybe you could let that one thing go.

And that when it does feel like the Universe is against us, within our very real experiences of suffering and pain and sickness and mental-health struggles and mounting bills and injustice and violence, we can hold on to the words of God for Jacob, that “God is with you and will keep you wherever you go.” That with our gaze on Jesus Christ, we find reflected the God who defies empire, identifies with the oppressed and all those empire would crucify, and the God who radiates grace and healing and mercy like supernovas exploding in the vast emptiness of eternity.

This week, our congregation mourns the loss of Norene, of John, of Nellie, of Cliff. Each of their lives in their own ways caused waves in the ocean of space time in how they showed love to us, in how they shared their hugs and laughter, and how their stories and memories are etched in our hearts like mountains line the horizon.

The loss of their presence can feel like the stars falling, thoughts of calling them and then remembering their absence like phantom radio frequencies lost in the ether. But as often happens with loss and grief, these moments remind us how vast and infinite, and small and insignificant, and beautiful and miraculous our few years around the sun really are.

May we anoint our encounter with those who leave us like Jacob anointed his sacred encounter. May angels carry our beloveds up to soar with the stars, and may the impact of their lives remind us to truly live ours.