A Theory of Everything (That Matters): A Brief Guide to Einstein, Relativity, and His Surprising Thoughts on God by Alister McGrath- Part 7, Chapter 5- Einstein and the Bigger Picture: Weaving Things Together

A Theory of Everything (That Matters): A Brief Guide to Einstein, Relativity, and His Surprising Thoughts on God by Alister McGrath- Part 7, Chapter 5- Einstein and the Bigger Picture: Weaving Things Together

We are reviewing Alister McGrath’s new book, “A Theory of Everything (That Matters): A Brief Guide to Einstein, Relativity, and His Surprising Thoughts on God”.  Chapter 5 is Einstein and the Bigger Picture: Weaving Things Together.  In November 1944, Einstein wrote to Robert Thornton, who was hoping to launch a program at the University of Puerto Rico, emphasizing the importance of the philosophy of science.  Einstein wrote, “So many people today (including professional scientists) seemed to be “like somebody who has seen thousands of trees but has never seen a forest”.  McGrath says that, for Einstein, it was important to develop a unified Weltbild—a coherent and comprehensive way of seeing the world.

The great German physicist, Max Planck, commenting on this aspect of Einstein’s thought said:

As Einstein has said, you could not be a scientist if you did not know that the external world existed in reality—but that knowledge is not gained by any process of reasoning.  It is a direct perception and therefore in its nature akin to what we call Faith.  It is a metaphysical belief. (Planck, Where is Science Going? p. 218)

The fundamental unity of phenomena turns out to a philosophical or even theological belief, which provides both a motivation and justification for the scientific enterprise.  It is not something that can be proved, but it nevertheless provides a working basis for the scientific project.  For scientists like Planck and Einstein, there is a faith that there is an underlying yet unseen order to all things.  Einstein said:

Creating a new theory is not like destroying an old barn and erecting a skyscraper in its place.  It is rather like climbing a mountain, gaining new and wider views, discovering new connections between our starting point and its rich environment.  But the point from which we started still exists and can be seen, although it appears smaller and forms a tiny part of our broad view gained by the mastery of the obstacles on our way up. (Einstein and Infeld, The Evolution of Physics, p. 159)

The best theory, for Einstein, weaves together what might have once been seen as disconnected threads but that can now be seen as integral parts of the same “big picture”.  And Einstein rightly saw this as an act of imagination as much as of understanding.  He said:

Imagination is more important than knowledge.  For knowledge is limited, whereas imagination embraces the entire world, stimulating progress, giving birth to evolution.  It is, strictly speaking, a real factor in scientific research. (Einstein, Cosmic Religion with Other Opinions and Aphorisms, p. 97)

Einstein suggested that he never thought in logical symbols or mathematical equations but rather found it more natural to use images, feelings, or even musical structures in his attempts to visualize the complex realities that could only be partly disclosed  through science.  He quipped that if he were not a physicist, he would probably be a musician.

Einstein’s viewpoint is not shared by many postmodern philosophers.  Many suggest that there is no “big picture”, only a number of smaller pictures that are not necessarily connected with each other.  In works such as Nancy Cartwright’s The Dappled World and Margaret Atwood’s Alias Grace, reality is suggested to be like a patchwork quilt, each panel different and has little connection to its neighbor.  They say there is no fundamental coherence to our universe, at best, just localized areas of patterns and meanings, none of which can claim exclusive authority.

Einstein held to a unified view of nature while emphasizing the limits placed on humanity as we seek to grasp our vast universe in its totality.  In 1914, Einstein wrote a letter to a fried using an analogy to help explain this limited grasp of reality: “Nature shows us only the tail of the lion.  But I do not doubt that the lion belongs to it even though he cannot at once reveal himself because of his enormous size.”  The first point Einstein’s parable conveys is that what we observe of the universe is a manifestation of a far greater unseen reality that lies beyond to grasp and hold.  Einstein often pointed out that the “real” is not given to us directly; what is given is our experience of the real.  There is indeed a connection between our experience and reality, but it is indirect.

Einstein raises the deep question: is there some fundamental harmony between human thought and the deeper structures of the universe, an idea that was often discussed during the Renaissance in terms of “the music of the spheres”.  Einstein’s well known love of music was linked with a sense that certain composers were tuning in to something deeper about our world.  He said, “Mozart’s music is so pure and beautiful that I see it as a reflection of the inner beauty of the universe.” (Isaacson, Einstein, p. 14)  Einstein often spoke of theoretical physics as an attempt to uncover “the music of the spheres”, which revealed a “pre-established harmony” within the fabric of the universe.

Einstein is scathing toward those who are tone-deaf to the beauty of the universe and especially to the mathematical representations of its structures, which often possess an elegance that seems to be correlated with their truth.  He singles out what he terms “fanatical atheists” for particular comment, remarking that “their grudge against traditional religion as the ‘opium of the masses’ makes them unable to “hear the music of the spheres”. (Letter to an unidentified recipient, dated August 7, 1941, Einstein Archive, Reel pp. 54-297)

McGrath notes that Einstein’s writings of the 1930’s and 1940’s show an increasing interest in areas beyond the field of natural sciences, in particular including ethics, politics, and religion.  Einstein was keen on scientists realizing their responsibility to deal with the social, ethical, and political consequences of their discoveries and to not compartmentalize them, but see them as interconnected.  McGrath says:

This is particularly evident in Einstein’s 1949 essay, “Why Socialism?”  Einstein here argued that the natural sciences cannot create moral goals, even though science may provide means by which those goals could be achieved. Such goals do not themselves arise as a result of scientific inquiry, yet science might help implement their application—for example, in the field of medicine.  “Science… cannot create ends and, even less, instill them in human beings; science, at most, can supply the means by which to attain certain ends.”  Einstein makes a moral case for socialism, fully aware that those moral norms cannot be established or confirmed by the natural sciences.

It is generally agreed that it is difficult to find a comprehensive ethical system either explicitly stated or implicitly assumed in Einstein’s writings.  Nevertheless, there is clearly an intuitive ethical vision that led Einstein to affirm the value of scientific research while criticizing some of its outcomes.  Consider, for example, this powerful 1948 statement on the moral obligations of scientists (Einstein, Ideas and Opinions, p. 148):

Rational thinking does not suffice to solve the problems of our social life.  Penetrating research and keen scientific work have often had tragic implications for mankind, producing, on the one hand, inventions which liberated man from exhausting physical labor… but on the other hand… creating the means for his own mass destruction…  We scientists, whose tragic destination has been to help in making the methods of annihilation more gruesome and more effective, must consider it our solemn and transcendent duty to do all in our power in preventing these weapons from being used for the brutal purpose for which they were invented.

The fact that science enables us to do certain things does not make those things moral.  A framework of values originating from outside science is needed to make such judgments.  Where can that framework come from?  Is Einstein’s concept of the connectedness of all things just his own mystical musings, or is there a true value in that realization?  McGrath tries to answer that question in the next chapter by looking more closely at Einstein’s quite distinct concept of religion and consider the role that this plays in his thought.

 

 

Lent with Mary Chapin Carpenter (3)

Lent with Mary Chapin Carpenter (3)

Each year, on Ash Wednesday and during Lent, I focus attention on a singer-songwriter or album from the popular culture of my lifetime in which I find echoes of the Lenten journey.

This year, we devote ourselves to listening to Mary Chapin Carpenter’s superb intensely personal album from 2012, Ashes And Roses, which describes her own journey “from night into day,” as she processed a life-threatening illness, a divorce, and the death of her father.

MCC learned what it means to have grief as a constant companion in that season of her life. It led her to write one of the most vivid and accurate descriptions of the grieving experience I’ve ever heard.

Grief is unwanted company that forces to learn the world and what it means to live all over again.

Grief rides quietly on the passenger side
Unwanted company on a long, long drive
It turns down the quiet songs and turns up the din
It goes where you go, it’s been where you’ve been

And pushing your empty cart mile after mile
Leaves you weeping in the wilderness of the supermarket aisle
And in the late night kitchen light it sits in a chair
Watching you pretend that it’s not really there, but it is…

…So it is and you ask
Are you predator or friend? the future or the past?

It hands you your overcoat and opens the door
You are learning the world again just as before
But the first time was childhood
And now you are grown, broken wide open, cut to the bone

And all that you used to know is of no use at all
The same eyes you’ve always had have you walking into walls
And the same heart can’t understand why it’s so hard to feel
What used to be true, what’s now so unreal, but it is…

…So it is and you say
I wish I were the wind so that I could blow away…

Grief sits silently on the edge of your bed
It’s closing your eyes, it’s stroking your head
The dear old companion is taking up air
Watching you pretend that it’s not really there…

 •

“A bit of goodness tucked out of sight”

One year I watched an orb weaver spider at uncommonly close range. She had set up housekeeping by stringing her web from our basketball backboard to the corner of the house. Just above the eave on that corner is a floodlight that’s triggered by motion. Every night that September I carried my late mother’s lame old dachshund out for her last sniff around, and every night the light blinked on, catching the spider mid-miracle. While the ancient dog did her business, I stood in the shadows just beyond the reach of the light and watched the spider carrying on her urgent work. If I held still enough, she would keep spinning, and I could watch something unfold that normally takes place entirely in the dark. But whenever she saw me studying her, she would rush up the lifeline she’d spun for herself and squat behind the Christmas lights that dangle from the eaves, the ones that wink all day and warn birds who might otherwise crash into the windows when the slant of light changes in autumn.

Human beings are creatures made for joy. Against all evidence, we tell ourselves that grief and loneliness and despair are tragedies, unwelcome variations from the pleasure and calm and safety that in the right way of the world would form the firm ground of our being. In the fairy tale we tell ourselves, darkness holds nothing resembling a gift.

What we feel always contains its own truth, but it is not the only truth, and darkness almost always harbors some bit of goodness tucked out of sight, waiting for an unexpected light to shine, to reveal it in its deepest hiding place.

• Margaret Renkl, Late Migrations: A Natural History of Love and Loss (p.185f)

An Internet Monk PSA: Wash your hands!!!

An Internet Monk Public Service Announcement: Wash your hands!!!

For years, Britain operated a research facility called the Common Cold Unit, but it closed in 1989 without ever finding a cure. It did, however, conduct some interesting experiments. In one, a volunteer was fitted with a device that leaked a thin fluid at his nostrils at the same rate that a runny nose would. The volunteer then socialized with other volunteers, as if at a cocktail party. Unknown to any of them, the fluid contained a dye visible only under ultraviolet light. When that was switched on after they had been mingling for a while, the participants were astounded to discover that the dye was everywhere—on the hands, head, and upper body of every participant and on glasses, doorknobs, sofa cushions, bowls of nuts, you name it. The average adult touches his face sixteen times an hour, and each of those touches transferred the pretend pathogen from nose to snack bowl to innocent third party to doorknob to innocent fourth party and so on until pretty much everyone and everything bore a festive glow of imaginary snot. In a similar study at the University of Arizona, researchers infected the metal door handle to an office building and found it took only about four hours for the “virus” to spread through the entire building, infecting over half of employees and turning up on virtually every shared device like photocopiers and coffee machines. In the real world, such infestations can stay active for up to three days. Surprisingly, the least effective way to spread germs (according to yet another study) is kissing. It proved almost wholly ineffective among volunteers at the University of Wisconsin who had been successfully infected with cold virus. Sneezes and coughs weren’t much better. The only really reliable way to transfer cold germs [viruses] is physically by touch.

• Bryson, Bill. The Body: A Guide for Occupants (p. 34).

• • •

Sermon Lent IIA: The Wind is Freshening (John 3:1-17)

Wind… Photo by Christos Tsoumplekas at Flickr

Sermon Lent IIA
The Wind Is Freshening (John 3:1-17)

The Lord be with you.

Over the next few Sundays, we will be reading stories from John’s Gospel. These stories tell about encounters Jesus had with several individuals and how he helped them find faith, forgiveness, healing, and life.

I think this is an important emphasis during this Lenten season. Though we are part of a community of faith, we are also individuals, and Jesus comes to each one of us and meets us where we are in order to bring his life and saving grace to us.

In these Gospel texts we will see Jesus:

  • Helping a Jewish teacher understand his Bible better so that he might embrace Jesus as the coming Messiah and enter the life of Jesus’ kingdom.
  • Helping a Samaritan woman through the bitterness she had come to know in life and satisfying her spiritual thirst with living water.
  • Helping a poor blind man who been living on the margins of his community receive sight and be restored to a place among the family of faith once again.
  • Helping a friend who died unexpectedly by raising him from the dead and reviving the hope of those who mourn in the face of death.

Four very different people, four unique encounters with Jesus, four people whose lives were completely transformed through Jesus’ words and actions.

We begin today with Nicodemus. He was the Jewish teacher who Jesus taught about being “born again,” or “born from above.” A lot has been said about being “born again” in my lifetime as a Christian, and it comes from this passage, from this encounter Nicodemus had with Jesus.

I am forever grateful to one of my NT professors in seminary for pointing out the key to understanding this story, what Jesus was trying to say to Nicodemus, and what being “born again” is all about. The key statement in this Gospel text is found in v. 10, where Jesus asks Nicodemus, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?”

In other words, Jesus expected Nicodemus to understand what he was talking about from his knowledge of the Jewish scriptures.

When Jesus said to Nicodemus, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above,” and when Jesus went on to say, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit,” Jesus assumed he would understand because he was a teacher in Israel and had a good understanding of the scriptures. These should not have been new concepts to Nicodemus.

When Jesus spoke those words to him, this renowned teacher should have recalled God’s promises that came to Israel thought the prophets, which he surely knew well. One of those promises was given by the prophet Ezekiel in Ezekiel 36, when the prophet announced,

I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleannesses, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. I will put my spirit within you, and make you follow my statutes and be careful to observe my ordinances. (Ezek 36:25-27)

Did you hear a reflection of Jesus’ words there? Ezekiel talked about the coming of the new covenant, the time when God’s kingdom would arrive. At that time, God would wash his people with water and put a new spirit within them. They would be reborn, renewed by water and spirit. God’s spirit would come to live within them and their hearts would be transformed so that they would delight in following God’s ways.

Now Jesus comes along and says the same kind of thing. The time has come you to be made new, born anew, he tells Nicodemus. The promised time has come for you to be born of water and spirit. God has arrived, to cleanse you and renew you within. In order to be part of God’s promised kingdom, you must take your place among those whom God is cleansing and renewing.

In other words, Jesus was announcing to Nicodemus that what the prophets had promised was now coming to pass in Israel. God had come and was setting up the kingdom. God was now washing people clean, forgiving and renewing them. God was now putting his Spirit into people’s hearts and transforming them into people of faith, hope, and love.

And how was God doing that? Through Jesus, that’s how. Jesus was not just, as Nicodemus says in today’s story, a teacher sent from God who did miraculous signs. He was the Word of God made flesh, the Messiah, the King who had come to establish God’s rule of peace and justice in Israel and throughout the whole world. He had come to bring Israel out of exile and to spread light and salvation throughout the whole world.

As the author says in a comment at the end of today’s text:

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

Jesus came to live, to serve, to die, to rise again, and to ascend into heaven so that all can enter the saving life of God’s kingdom. This is not just something that will happen at the end of the age, at the resurrection, but right now. One can be born of water and the spirit right here and now. One can enter the kingdom now. One can be cleansed and renewed immediately. One can enter eternal life and begin living in God’s new age of peace and justice right now.

Jesus is not so much talking about a particular religious experience people must seek or something they must do. He is telling Nicodemus that he should be recognizing what God is doing in the world through Jesus. God is fulfilling his promises! God is establishing his new covenant, his kingdom! God is is moving in Israel, like the wind! The Spirit is blowing through the world as he did at creation, bringing order and goodness to the chaos brought about by sin, evil, and death.

Jesus said this to Nicodemus and he is saying it to us today as well. The promises of God have been fulfilled in Jesus. That which the prophets looked forward to is here. The kingdom of God has arrived because the King himself walked among us and defeated the powers of sin, evil, and death that reigned over this world.

  • You and I can know the life of the age to come today.
  • We can live as new people.
  • We can die to sin and rise to walk in newness of life.
  • Self-generated life can be replaced with life energized by God through faith and the Spirit.
  • Discouragement and despair can be transformed into hope and assurance that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love.
  • Our self-centered lives, which are curved in upon themselves and profoundly damaged by sin, can be healed and filled with love for our neighbors.

It’s all there, for each one of us — in the promises of God and in the loving ministry of Jesus. May God grant us faith to see, faith to come, faith to embrace the one who washes us clean in the waters of baptism and fills us with his Spirit! Open the windows of your heart and feel the wind freshening!

May the word of Christ dwell in us richly in all wisdom.

Lenten Brunch Lite 2: March 7, 2020

Photo from WELSTech Podcast at Flicker. Submitted by Bethany Kempfert (Creative Commons License)

Lenten Brunch Lite 2: March 7, 2020

During the Lenten season, we will offer a “lite” version of our Saturday Brunch. Each week, I will set forth one question (or set of questions) related to keeping Lent and ask us to focus our discussion on it.

Last week we asked about your faith community and its traditions regarding Lent. Today we focus more on the personal side of this season.

Do you take up any particular personal practices in Lent?

Do you do anything special or different with your family or friends during this season?

Is there anything this year that you have felt led to take up (or give up)?

If you have marked Lent for many years, what has been your experience about how your personal experience of the season has changed from year to year and over time?

The Year That Wasn’t

A quick perusal of my Facebook posts, and you would have a pretty good idea that my year went pretty well:

  • Lots of hiking and visiting with family and friends
  • Building five new garden beds for flowers and vegetables
  • Enjoying the resultant garden bounty
  • My son’s engagement to a wonderful woman
  • Celebrations of birthdays and holidays (including my Dad’s 80th, and my Aunt’s 70th.)
  • Jam making!  40 jars of Saskatoon Berry or Wild Grape this year
  • A high school graduation!
  • Watching my children star in musical theater, or succeed at school or employment
  • Celebrating with my brother as he wins awards with his first book
  • The Raptors winning the NBA championship!

Except it didn’t. Here is what you didn’t see in my Facebook posts:

  • An unexpected death in the immediate family
  • Anxiety
  • Job loss
  • Loss of health care coverage (I am a type 1 diabetic)
  • Two youth suicides two days apart, including one youth whom I had previously criticized
  • Increased Anxiety
  • Depression
  • Bad side effects from medication including extreme fatigue
  • Stress
  • Anxiety attacks – (no Hockey or Basketball watching for me!)
  • Multiple blown job interviews (related to all the items above)

For those of you wondering why I suddenly stopped writing for Internet Monk last year, now you know.  My last post was sandwiched between the two suicides.  I was pretty much completely non-functioning for a month and struggled for months afterwards.  Even after obtaining new employment, I was so fatigued by the end of the week that I would sleep between 30 and 50 hours each weekend.

I am doing better now.  My medications were adjusted.  My energy is coming back.  I have a job that I enjoy.  I have always had a wonderful wife and family. I can watch hockey again!  Go, Leafs Go!!!

This past year has left a lasting effect on me. I realize now that I really have no idea what people are going through. My criticism of the one youth will probably haunt me for the rest of my days. I do think however that this past year has changed me for the better. I try to be more considerate and kind to others when interacting with them, both in person and online. I will be faster to compliment, and much more hesitant to criticize. I no longer argue or debate for the sake of debating. I find that I can now identify and empathize with others who are struggling in ways that I could not before. In fact, I have been making an extra effort to encourage those who need encouraging.

Here is my first of two thoughts:

Let’s try together to make Internet Monk more of a place of encouragement this year. I know that I could certainly use it, and I know that many of you are going through difficult times as well. Let us try to encourage each other with our comments, and try to find the good in what others say. Let us restrain ourselves from jumping on others comments, and from deliberately provoking others with our own comments.

My second thought is this:

Although I intentionally try to not spiritualize my posts, I was reading Matthew 26 on Wednesday night and saw some immediate parallels to what I have written here. As we are in the season of Lent, I thought it appropriate to share them here.

Jesus is in the Garden of Gethsemane prior to his death and he is clearly distressed.

My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death…
My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will…
My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.

I realized that Jesus suffering as he did helps us relate to him in our suffering, just as I am now able to relate with to others in their suffering. In many ways the incarnation of Christ, is as important as the crucifixion and resurrection, because in the incarnation he was one us: Walking with us, eating with us, tempted like us, and suffering like us.

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcome.

Mike Bell

A Theory of Everything (That Matters): A Brief Guide to Einstein, Relativity, and His Surprising Thoughts on God by Alister McGrath- Part 6, Chapter 4- The Theory of General Relativity: Final Formulation and Confirmation

A Theory of Everything (That Matters): A Brief Guide to Einstein, Relativity, and His Surprising Thoughts on God by Alister McGrath- Part 6, Chapter 4- The Theory of General Relativity: Final Formulation and Confirmation

We are reviewing Alister McGrath’s new book, “A Theory of Everything (That Matters): A Brief Guide to Einstein, Relativity, and His Surprising Thoughts on God”.  Chapter 4 is “The Theory of General Relativity: Final Formulation and Confirmation”.  Even though we have come to admire the “wonder year” of 1905, at the time no offers of academic employment were offered.  In July the University of Zurich accepted Einstein’s doctoral thesis, “A New Determination of Molecular Dimensions” but did not offer him a position.  In April 1906 he was promoted to technical expert, second class, at the Bern patent office, which salary increase he was grateful for, but still not what he really wanted.  Finally in October 1909, the University of Zurich appointed him an adjunct professor in theoretical physics.  Two years later, he was appointed as full professor at the Karl-Ferdinand University of Prague, before returning to Switzerland in 1912 to take up a chair at the Eidgenössiche Technische Hochschule in Zurich.  In 1914, Einstein was appointed director of the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Physics and professor in the University of Berlin.  But despite the academic achievements, Einstein and Mileva Marić separated and in 1919 divorced, shortly after which Einstein married Elsa Loewenthal.

With the outbreak of the First World War in August 1914, international scientific collaboration ceased and Einstein was isolated in Germany during this period.  He now had the time to try and develop a generalization of his theory of special relativity. Special relativity considered only the effects of relativity to an observer moving at constant speed.  So what about bodies that were moving at changing velocities?  And what about the influence of gravitational fields on space-time?

Newton had proposed gravity as a force between bodies as they moved through space, understanding space as a vast empty container.  Then James Clerk Maxwell and Michael Faraday introduced the idea of electromagnetic fields and show that light is an electromagnetic disturbance in the form of waves propagated through the electromagnetic field according to electromagnetic laws. Einstein came to the view that, like electricity and magnetism, gravity was conveyed through a “gravitational field” – and more radically, that this gravitational field is actually what Newton considered to be “space”.  Instead of thinking of space as a container through which the planets move under the influence of gravity, we need to think of space itself as a gravitational field, which is distorted locally on account of the mass of stars.

The gravity of the Earth is a distortion in the space-time continuum which is why time on a GPS satellite is 38 microseconds per day faster than on Earth.

On the basis of this approach, Einstein predicted the phenomenon of the gravitational dilation of time.  The closer a body is to a large mass, with its substantial gravitational pull, the slower time runs for it.  This phenomenon is now well known and important for the functioning of Global Positioning Systems (GPS), which rely on signals from satellites orbiting above the Earth to establish the observer’s position.  However, as we have already stated, the atomic clocks in those satellites run 32 microseconds faster than clocks here on the surface of the Earth (I think I had that reversed in the last post – my error – see this summary here)   In other words, time passes at a different rate on the surface of the Earth due to the greater effect of the Earth’s gravity.

Newton had understood matter to attract other matter across empty space – I daresay most of us still have this conception.  Einstein developed the quite different idea that matter distorts space-time. Newton himself never applied his theory of universal gravitation to the behavior of light.  Scientists who held that light could be thought of as a beam of particles predicted that gravity would affect its passage through space.  Two predictions are of special interest.  The first is John Mitchell’s 1783 prediction of “dark stars” that could not be seen because light could not break free from their gravity (a remarkable prescient intuition of black holes!).  The second is the 1804 prediction of Johann Georg von Soldner that a beam of light would be deflected by the gravitational field of a star; he even calculated the extent of deflection. But Einstein did not regard light as a beam of particles affected by gravity on account of their mass, rather based on the principle of the equivalence of mass and energy, light on account of its enormous velocity had an “effective mass”.   Newton thought light had mass; Einstein showed that it behaved as if it had mass.  In effect, Einstein’s theory of general relativity confirmed both these predictions but place them on a different theoretical foundation.  Einstein published his paper, “The Foundation of the General Theory of Relativity” in March 2016 to the German scientific journal Annalen der Physik.

McGrath says the analogy he finds most helpful in visualizing this effect is that of space-time as a trampoline with a heavy object placed on it.  The trampoline fabric sags toward the heavy object and any ball rolled across the trampoline will move towards the heavy object.  Why? Because it is drawn to the object, or because it naturally follows the deformation in the shape of the fabric resulting from the weight of the object?  The second explanation is correct.  General relativity asks us to think of the sun and planets warping space-time.  The planets orbiting the sun are not really being pulled by the sun; they are actually following the curved space-time deformation caused by the sun, like the ball rolling towards the heavy object on the trampoline. All the pictures I’ve been showing are 2-dimensional representations, Einstein was theorizing that the deformation takes place in all 3 dimensions of space and the dimension of time as well!  Hence the term space-time: the concepts of time and three-dimensional space regarded as fused in a four-dimensional continuum.

One of the most significant aspects of Einstein’s “The Foundation of the General Theory of Relativity” was its specific predictions of what would be observed if the theory was correct.  The three main predictions Einstein made were:

  1. A shifting of the perihelion of the planet Mercury. Although this effect should be observed for all the planets, it would be most pronounce for Mercury because it was so close to the sun.
  2. The phenomenon of gravitational lensing, in which the warping of space-time due to the gravitational influence of the sun caused light to bend.
  3. The phenomenon of cosmological redshift. This prediction followed from Einstein’s equivalence principle noted in 1907.
The Expanding Universe

Yet one prediction is strikingly absent from this list – the expansion of the universe.  Einstein’s first cosmological solution of his field equation indicated the universe was expanding.  Einstein modified his equation, adding another term – the so-called “cosmological function or constant” – in order to yield a static universe.  By 1929 the research of Edwin Hubble suggested that the observational evidence was best explained by an expanding universe.  Einstein’s approach suggests that the universe expands not on account of the movement of galaxies but because space-time is expanding.

Why did Einstein not trust his original equations?  Why did he introduce a “fudge factor” designed to fit the soon-to-be abandoned model of a static universe?  McGrath says he has not found a convincing answer, although many suggestions have been made.  As an admirer of Dutch Jewish philosopher Spinoza, maybe he genuinely believed that the universe was necessarily eternal.

We dealt with the advance of the perihelion of Mercury in Part 3.  The third prediction had to wait for significant technological advances before it could be measured.  The second prediction was verified in the total solar eclipse of May 29, 1919 by Sir Arthur Eddington and Sir Frank Watson Dyson, although not all physicists agreed with their conclusions at the time.  This resulted in the famous Times of London headline, “Revolution in Science, New Theory of the Universe.  Newtonian Ideas Overthrown”.  Einstein himself gave an interview with the New York Times in April 1921 in which he emphasized that his theories were to be seen as an evolution that consolidated Newton’s heritage rather than a revolution that discarded it.  Einstein thus did not regard his theories as revolutionary but as a systematic development of earlier approaches. But it was too late for popular media in Britain and the US, where he was lionized as the revolutionary thinker who had overthrown scientific orthodoxy.

Oddly enough, while the US and Britain heralded him, the German scientific establishment indulged  in a campaign to discredit him as a plagiarizer and a lightweight.  The ugly phrase “Jewish physics” began to be used in contrast with “German physics” that only intensified as Nazi sympathizers gained strength.  It is a measure of the controversy of the times that Einstein’s 1922 Nobel Prize was issued for his work on the photoelectric effect back in 1905, rather than his relativity theories.  Einstein was rightly alarmed at the rise of Nazism.  McGrath says it spurred him into developing his own political, social, and religious beliefs.  On December 12, 1932, Einstein and his wife left Berlin for the United States.  Hitler was installed as chancellor a month later, and it was made clear that he would not be welcomed if he returned.

As remarkable as Einstein’s body of works was, he himself saw it as incomplete.  Einstein’s writings of the 1910s show how driven he was for his quest for die Einheitlichkeit – “the uniformity” i.e. the fundamental unity of all phenomena.  Although the general theory of relativity is still the best generalized theory of gravitation and space-time structure, it cannot account for the quantum effects that govern the sub-atomic world.  Although most physicists adopt a pragmatic work-around to this problem, using general relativity to describe large-scale phenomena of astronomy and cosmology and using quantum mechanics to account for the behavior of atoms and elementary particles, Einstein himself was never satisfied.

General relativity has geometric precision and is deterministic; the world of quantum physics is shaped by uncertainties and is probabilistic.  This feature caused Einstein to have serious misgivings about its viability and that led to his famous (and often misunderstood) remark to the effect that God “does not play dice”.  This quote is found in a private letter from Einstein to the Hungarian physicist Cornelius Lanczos, who was then based at Princeton, dated March 12, 1942.  Einstein wrote:  “It seems hard to sneak a look at God’s cards.  But that he plays dice and uses ‘telepathic’ methods (as the present quantum theory requires of him) is something that I cannot believe for a single moment.”  This is unfortunately often simplified to “God does not play dice”.  For a more complete discussion, McGrath recommends Ghirandi, Sneaking a Look at God’s Cards, pages 149-164.

In the conference in Brussels in 1927, Einstein famously clashed with Niels Bohr over quantum mechanics, launching a feud that would last until Einstein’s death in 1955.  Bohr championed the strange new insights emerging from quantum mechanics. He believed that any single particle—be it an electron, proton, or photon—never occupies a definite position unless someone measures it. Until you observe a particle, Bohr argued, it makes no sense to ask where it is: It has no concrete position and exists only as a blur of probability.

Einstein scoffed at this. He believed, emphatically, in a universe that exists completely independent of human observation. All the strange properties of quantum theory are proof that the theory is flawed, he said. A better, more fundamental theory would eliminate such absurdities.  In 1935 Einstein was convinced that he had refuted quantum mechanics. And from then until his death 20 years later, he devoted nearly all his efforts to the search for a unified field theory. Einstein spent the rest of his life trying to formulate “The Theory of Everything”.  Einstein himself, came to believe he failed at that quest, and his critics contend he wasted his life.  But McGrath believes that Einstein, was, once again, ahead of his time, he says he may have started from the wrong place, but he rightly grasped the possibility of holding together the complexities of the universe within a single grand theory.  McGrath says:

Einstein’s pursuit of a unified view of the world remains important beyond the world of physics.  One of the central themes of this volume is the need to reflect on Einstein’s belief that it was possible to hold together – if not to weave together into a coherent unity – his views on science, ethics, politics, and religion.  The search for a unified view of reality is not limited to physicists or cosmologists.  We each, in our own way, try to weave together the threads of our beliefs and commitments in the hope of creating a coherent picture of reality… We shall turn to consider these questions in the second part of this book.

 

Lent with Mary Chapin Carpenter (2)

Lent with Mary Chapin Carpenter (2)

Each year, on Ash Wednesday and during Lent, I focus attention on a singer-songwriter or album from the popular culture of my lifetime in which I find echoes of the Lenten journey.

This year, we devote ourselves to listening to Mary Chapin Carpenter’s superb intensely personal album from 2012, Ashes And Roses, which describes her own journey “from night into day,” as she processed a life-threatening illness, a divorce, and the death of her father.

Today, we hear a song from the record called “Chasing What’s Already Gone.” The title for Ashes and Roses comes from a line in this song.

This perceptive piece describes the all-too-human quality of looking back on our lives in such a way that we find ourselves bound by the past. It urges looking back with wisdom, but not chasing that which we can no longer capture.

Like the line that spells the far horizon
Moving with you as fast as you can run
Half your life you pay it no attention
The rest you can’t stop wondering
What you should have done
Instead of chasing what’s already gone

What allows me to do what I do is when people hear these songs and say, ‘That’s how I feel, too.’ It makes you realize how much we are all alike, how connected we are, and how universal our experiences are. As I’ve gotten more distance from the events of the last few years, I realize that these feelings aren’t anything to be ashamed of. More than anything, that’s what has always allowed me to make music and, certainly, make this record. As terrifying as it is to be so honest about something, at the same time, it’s even more terrifying to imagine keeping it all hidden. It’s a necessary step towards wholeness to see where we have come from.

Mary Chapin Carpenter

Scott Lencke: Lament in Silence

Note from CM: Thanks to Scott for this thoughtful reminder about the importance of lament prayers — an especially relevant topic during Lent. You can read more of Scott’s writing at The Prodigal Thought.

• • •

Lament in Silence
by Scott Lencke

The church has entered the season of Lent. This is a focused period of humility, repentance and embracing our own mortality. As my pastor has recently reminded us, Lent is not about asking, “What am I going to give up?” Rather, Lent asks, “Where have I moved away from God and how might I move toward him?”

This may happen within the realm of giving something up, fasting from a particular item that has pulled our heart away from our Father. But giving up something isn’t a magical formula—and we don’t need to give up something just to give up something, to show our own strong will. We are desirous that our hearts be uncovered, which will hopefully push us toward God as we feel our desperation.

Last week I met with my PhD cohort. The University of Aberdeen, from whence I am working on my studies long-distance, houses the Centre for Spirituality, Health and Disability. This particular center has very strong connections with the work of Jean Vanier and L’Arche, an organization that carries a deep labor of love for the disabled community of our world. And, so, if you are aware of recent news within the church world, you will most likely have heard the name Jean Vanier.

I am not as connected to the work of Vanier as much as I am with Henri Nouwen, one of his colleagues. But recent reports have been released that Vanier, who only passed away less than one year ago, had coercive sexual relationships with six different women over a thirty-five year period. This is devastating news for many Christians around the world.

Such news directly connects in with the University of Aberdeen because of the Centre for Spirituality, Health and Disability. Particularly, my supervisor and his colleagues have been absolutely devastated by the reports.

Just ravaged.

As our cohort met via video conference, my supervisor offered space for us to discuss the news.

We talked through important points worth considering. But, at the end, he reigned it all back in to something much more salient, especially in light of the season of Lent having just kicked off. He reminded us of key components connected to lament.

One element that stuck out most to me was silence. Actually, that’s really all he put forth to us. He noted that, it seems those not involved in certain painful situations will more easily and readily speak their mind, perhaps with very little pause for concern. They will rush to offer opinions because, whatever he or she may say, it has little to no consequence for them.

It all hit like a ton of bricks. We were all left well, speechless, silent.

School shootings take place. Tsunamis hit. Coronavirus spreads.

Who speaks first?

It’s always those who haven’t been personally affected. And they speak loudly.

This is especially heightened in the digital world of today.

The affected will respond quite differently. Those caught up in agonizing circumstances tend to move toward lament. And that lament usually starts off with very little vocalization. Of course, the feelings are there—though perhaps all the feelings are not discernible. There are tears, wailing, shouting, rage and the sort. Yet, in many ways, in the sadness, in entering lament, we aren’t really sure what to say. The ancients would sit for days in sackcloth and ashes, barely speaking at all. Perhaps we could learn from them.

Today we have become desensitized to our pain. If we hurt, we go out and buy something, we eat a lot of something, we delve into the world of our smart phone, we binge on another season. Anything to busy our minds and hearts. Anything to numb the ache. Whatever addiction we can tap into. Most of it is socially acceptable, that’s the frightening thing. We don’t have to commit adultery, burn a building down, cuss someone out. There are much more subversive practices that bury our hearts.

Last week I happened to be reading Psalm 42—and I was struck by the opening words. Much of these will be well-known, but something caught me off guard this time around.

As the deer pants for streams of water,
    so my soul pants for you, my God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
    When can I go and meet with God?
My tears have been my food
    day and night,
while people say to me all day long,
    “Where is your God?” (vs1-3)

We usually stop at vs2. Thus, the lyrical prayer is seen as someone engaged in a passionate worship session. But vs3 makes it very clear that these words are not describing what we first thought. Things are so bad, so terrible that his tears have been his food day and night. He is crying so much that he knows the taste of his tears over his dinner.

My goodness! What an image.

Lament is the most prevalent type of psalm we find in the Psalms. They are everywhere.

I’m noticing this more and more these days, especially now that Lent has begun.

I am trying to think through what this lamenter was feeling as he scribbled these words down. He continues:

I say to God my Rock,
    “Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go about mourning,
    oppressed by the enemy?”
My bones suffer mortal agony
    as my foes taunt me,
saying to me all day long,
    “Where is your God?” (vs9-10)

Not your typical lyrics on a Sunday morning. But very biblical.

I can only envision that there was silence leading up to the penning of this psalm. Again, that’s how the ancients approached it officially. Sackcloth and ashes coupled with stillness, quiet. One needs time to put words to our feelings. One needs space to just sit with our misery.

We have a lot to lament these days.

I mentioned some above, but there are others.

Sexual abuse. Politics. Poverty. Hunger. Sex-trafficking.

Betrayals. Job loss. Dissolved marriages. Addictions.

So much to lament.

Will we embrace this intentional period of Lent to feel our loss, experience our pain, become acquainted with our griefs?

Will we sit and listen—if only to our own hearts?

Then we might know how to give voice to what is going on. The honest expression in our words may more rightly spill forth.

Last week, my professor could barely talk about it. I thought he was going to burst forth in tears right in that video conference. And I’m sure he has tasted his tears already. He put something on our radars that left us, again, silent. A holy hush came over us.

Yes, the hope is to come out on the “other side,” as the psalmist also offers:

Why, my soul, are you downcast?
    Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
    for I will yet praise him,
    my Savior and my God. (vs11)

But we don’t have to rush to that place. We don’t need to rush.

Sit in silence. Be quiet. Let our heart’s recesses be exposed.

That is the first step in lament.