The God Particle (a Steve Orr scripture reflection)

“Over the years I have often reflected on the character of Mr. Sherlock Holmes. The one thing that excited him was the solution of a problem. It mattered nothing to him if the mystery was fresh and poignant or was thousands of years old. The mystery was all.” —Sherlock Holmes and the Rosetta Stone by Linda Stratmann

Mysteries are all about us. Consider the Higgs Boson.** It is one of the tiniest things in existence. It is so mysterious that, until recently, it only existed theoretically. It gives shape and size to everything that exists. It may actually be the fundamental “stuff” of creation. And for that reason, some call it “the God particle.”

The Higgs Boson belongs in the world of such brilliant scientists as Albert Einstein, Richard Feynman, Max Planck, Brian Greene, and, well, Peter Higgs (who predicted its existence). It crops up in discussions about the Theory of Relativity, Quantum Mechanics, and String Theory, among others. It’s from the branch of science seeking to assemble the still elusive theory of everything. It is the very definition of esoteric. 

For some, the mysteries surrounding the Higgs Boson are irresistible. 

Most of us, though, have trouble wrapping our heads around that kind of stuff. For most of us, it is going to remain a mystery. And that’s OK. That’s not to say no one should explore the God particle and all it might mean for connecting all those other mysteries. It’s just not going to be most of us. 

So, what could we explore? We could fill our thoughts with musings about such mysteries as when (and how) the spark of life appears, what happens after we die, whether there is life elsewhere in the universe, or why cruise control won’t work in most school zones. You fill in that blank. There is really no end to the possibilities. That’s because we decide which mysteries enchant us. 

It is important to note, though: There is a question of priorities. And that is the issue raised in this week’s scripture selection from Corinthians 13. Most people call this “The Love Chapter,” and rightly so. While there are many instructions about love in the scriptures (for example: Romans 13:8-10), the Corinthian chapter is the longest and fullest exploration all in one place. 

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is quite clear on love. The chapter breaks down like this: The first three verses are about the primacy of love, the next four about the character of love, and the final verses expand on love’s primacy. 

And that brings us back to mysteries. 

You might think that chapter is saying the exploration of mysteries is wrong. Not so. All Paul is saying is that, absent love, seeking knowledge and exploring mysteries is meaningless. Love must be primary. How we love, whom we love, and when we love: These are higher and more important. 

Is it wrong to pursue our mysteries? No. In fact, there are many that are worthy of our time and attention. But, unlike with Sherlock Holmes, the mystery cannot be “all.” It helps to think of life as a journey, one in which setting the wrong priorities will result in the wrong destination. Read through Corinthians 13 to better understand how to undertake that journey. 

After we learn to love, there will be plenty of opportunity to explore whatever mysteries enchant us.

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PHOTO (the Large Hadron Collider … and Homer Simpson discovers the Higgs Boson, first! Watch the brief report on YouTube): 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2KnC7w3o7xA

**A simple explanation of Higgs Boson:

https://www.popsci.com/article/science/very-simple-explanation-higgs-boson/?amp

**A great animation illustrating Higgs Boson:

https://archive.nytimes.com/www.nytimes.com/interactive/2013/10/08/science/the-higgs-boson.html#/?g=true&higgs2_slide=4

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Join us, Friday morning, for DaySpring’s Lectionary Breakfast. We meet at 8:00 at Our Breakfast Place and on Zoom**. We eat, we discuss scripture, and we laugh. What more could you want?

Blessings,

Steve

**Contact me for the Zoom link

NOTE: Zoom allows you to mute the camera & microphone if you don’t wish to be seen or heard.

SCRIPTURES FOR SUNDAY & THE COMING WEEK

Read them here: 

https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/texts.php?id=110

Print them here:

https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/pdf//Cx_FourthSundayafterEpiphany.pdf

Jeremiah 1:4-10

Psalm 71:1-6

1 Corinthians 13:1-13

Luke 4:21-30

Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany (January 30, 2022)

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The Magnetic Pull of Longing (a Steve Orr scripture reflection)

It was hard for me to wrap my head around. Barbecue had been served here for more than 100 years. 

To my knowledge, I had never eaten at a 100-year-old barbecue place; certainly not one that had been in the very same location for 100 years. I had mixed feelings about what to expect. It came highly recommended, but still …

I met my friend on the broken sidewalk out front. Without preamble, he launched into an explanation of what we could expect for our meal. There would be the usual barbecue options, but we'd have to come back on a Wednesday if we wanted ribs. The thing to do, he said, was to do it the old way, at least for this first visit. If I liked it, I could always come back and try the other meats another time.

He carefully described what we should get (“the full order") and how we would eat it ("You fork the chopped brisket onto a slice of the whitebread, roll it up, and then dip it into the drippings. Heaven!").

We went inside. As we perused the chalkboard offerings, I saw several combinations and plates, along with some sides. My guide explained—with some humor, but some true disdain as well—that all "this other stuff" was relatively new. None of “that” had been available when he first started coming here several decades back. We would be doing it the "old way." He might as well have said "the one right way."

I asked for “the full order” as he had advised. It was as he had predicted: heavenly. 

During our lunch—surrounded by tables, chairs, floor and walls reflecting a century old legacy—I heard reminiscences of time gone by, the way things had been back in the day. The location, the food, and the way we ate the food—all contributed to my friend’s nostalgia. Clearly, there was a lot of love for the old days and the old ways.

Familiarity: the hooks on which we hang our memories. Not just the obvious food memories, but memories of people encountered, successes achieved, insights discovered. All of it tied to the "old way."

Something like this is in place in this week’s scriptures, particularly the Luke passage. Jesus, visiting his hometown, has gone to church. As was common on the Sabbath, he stands to read from a scroll. It’s a well known passage from Isaiah prophesying the coming of the Messiah. Then, he tells the congregation that the prophecy has been fulfilled that day, in their hearing.

By the time he finishes explaining what he means, they are furious. 

They had fallen into the habit of longing. It was quite the abrupt disruption to have one of their own claim they no longer needed to wait, that the longing was over. Likely, they looked at him and recalled all sorts of memories from all the years they had been coming to that synagogue: weddings, deaths, newborns, children at shul, year after year of reading about the coming messiah. And here was Joe's boy, Mary's son, upending their world with his claim that said, as surely as if he had uttered the words, He was the messiah. 

The old way was gone.  The new way had come.

We have a lot more to go on than the folks in that synagogue on that Sabbath. But we can be just as resistant to change. Sure, we're not looking for the arrival of the messiah the way they were. Still, we must reorient, or we will never have the understanding of the message God is sending us. When Isaiah wrote that passage, it was a prophecy, something that would happen "someday." When Jesus read those words in his hometown synagogue, it was no longer a prophecy, no longer residing in some unknown future. He was describing himself to people who thought they knew him, but only really knew their memories of him.

It can be very hard to release the old way. We fear such changes. The old way holds our memories like a treasure box, and we fear we will lose them if we accept the new. Have no fear. That’s your longing talking. Yes, allowing ourselves to know the real Jesus could well mean we must let some things go. But not the things that truly matter.

We mustn’t let our old ways, comfortable as they are, keep us from receiving the message Jesus is sending us. It is, truly, good news.  

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PHOTO (of the full order + a brief history of Jasper’s): 

https://wacotrib.com/waco_today_magazine/jasper-s-bar-b-que-maintains-old-fashioned-look-taste-in-waco/article_cd95017b-5aba-5137-82c5-975e21ad5c64.amp.html

A little more history & photos of Jasper’s: 

https://wacohistory.org/items/show/82

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At Lectionary Breakfast, we're making our way through the scriptures as we count the days until Easter and what that day means for all of us. Join us Friday mornings at 8:00 for some good food and some excellent fellowship. It's a happy hour at Our Breakfast Place (and on Zoom**) when we read, eat and laugh together.

Enjoy the week!

Steve

**Contact me for the Zoom link

NOTE: Zoom allows you to mute the camera and microphone if you don’t wish to be seen or heard.

SCRIPTURES FOR SUNDAY AND THE COMING WEEK

Read them here: 

https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/texts.php?id=109

Print them here:

https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/pdf//Cx_ThirdSundayafterEpiphany.pdf

Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10

Psalm 19

1 Corinthians 12:12-31a

Luke 4:14-21

Third Sunday after the Epiphany (January 23, 2022)

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Alchemists I’ve Known and Loved (a Steve Orr scripture reflection)

When I was 10 or so, I wanted a chemistry set. 

I’m sure I was just as obnoxious as Ralphie in “A Christmas Story,” telling anyone who would listen what I really wanted for Christmas. And, after much lobbying, my parents (or possibly Santa) installed a chemistry set under the Christmas tree. I recall being very excited. 

For about an hour.

It took me that long to conclude it wasn't what I thought it would be. To use it required an understanding of the scientific method, knowledge of how to conduct an experiment, and the ability to read and follow directions. None of which I possessed in sufficient quantity.

The main source of my disappointment, however, was one of expectation. What I expected was to be able to transform things, to turn one thing into another thing. I didn’t know the word, alchemist, at that young age. But, that’s what I really wanted to be. Today, I would say I wanted to be Nicolas Flamel (see: “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone”), or maybe the Comte de Saint Germain, a couple of people legend says were alchemists. 

Who wouldn’t love to be able to turn lead into gold or rocks into precious gems? That has been the claim of alchemists for centuries: to “purify” baser materials into more noble materials. I hadn’t set my sights anywhere near that lofty. I just wanted to make something cool. I quickly learned that was not going to occur. As any real scientist will confirm, you must commit to a long-term relationship with science if you want to get anywhere with it. 

My chemical romance, it turns out, was nothing more than puppy love. 

These memories came back to me as I read this week's Lectionary selection from the gospel of John: when Jesus attended a wedding party at Cana. There's been a lot written about this event, with the most being about whether Jesus turned the water into actual alcoholic wine (or not). After reading several of these, I concluded that, like me with my chemistry set, many have missed the point.

And here is the point: Jesus took one thing, and without so much as a gesture, transformed it into something else. 

Stop for a minute and let that really sink in.

The wedding steward makes it clear that the no-longer-water is not just good, but the very essence of good. Like every transformation performed by Jesus, it was both the best and something new. There, in one seemingly small miracle, Jesus encapsulated his entire reason for being on Earth. He came to make us new creations. Not ideals, not better human beings, not the best versions of ourselves. 

New ... creations.

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GRAPHIC: Painting of alchemist Hennig Brand by Joseph Wright (1795) 

The Debt Science Owes to Alchemy: 

https://eandt.theiet.org/content/articles/2018/03/the-debt-science-owes-to-alchemy/

Link here to a brief discussion of alchemy from ancient times to modern particle accelerators: 

https://www.jewelpedia.net/alchemy-transmutation-gold/

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Join us Friday morning at 8:00 at DaySpring’s Lectionary Breakfast. We meet in person at "Our Breakfast Place” and on Zoom.** Good food, good folk, and a feast for the soul … all in about an hour.

It's transformative. 

Enjoy the week!

Steve

**Contact me for the the Zoom link

NOTE: Zoom allows you to mute the camera & microphone if you don’t wish to be seen or heard.

SCRIPTURES FOR SUNDAY & THE COMING WEEK

Read them here: 

https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/texts.php?id=108

Print them here:

https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/pdf//Cx_SecondSundayafterEpiphany.pdf

Isaiah 62:1-5

Psalm 36:5-10

1 Corinthians 12:1-11

John 2:1-11

Second Sunday after Epiphany (01-16-2022)

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Flashing Lights Against the Sky (a Steve Orr scripture reflection)

Woodwinds or brass?

When you hear someone ask, “Woodwinds or brass?”, what you’re hearing is a conversation starter. It, and thousands of little scripts like it, exist for people (like me) who have difficulty chatting in social settings. For people like us, reaching into our thoughts for interesting small talk produces … exactly nothing. We’ve gone to the well and found it empty. So, in an attempt to not appear socially inept, we collect conversation starters, hoping the other person will be so interested they will then carry the conversational load. 

That empty well is not just a haunt for the socially challenged. Poets, songwriters, public speakers—lots of us, from time to time—go to that well and come away empty handed. We’ll come back to this. But, for the moment, let’s address the question at hand. My answer? Brass. 

Now, don’t get in a huff, woodwinds. I like a good clarinet, too. (Benny Goodman, anyone?) And, ask around, I’m a big fan of great piano music. But brass: oh my. That’s why I fell in love with Chicago. Sure, that rock/jazz fusion band had woodwinds, drums, etc., and some of the best guitar anywhere, any time. But the sound was all brass! The first time I heard them, I was blown out of the water. They were playing “25 or 6 to 4.” (hear it — link, below).

Waiting for the break of day

Searching for something to say

Flashing lights against the sky

Giving up I close my eyes

Sitting cross-legged on the floor

25 or 6 to 4

Perhaps the most interesting thing about this song is that it is a product of that empty well. Robert Lamm, keyboard player, singer and founding member of Chicago, wrote “25 or 6 to 4” while looking down on Los Angeles from the Hollywood Hills early one morning. He was struggling. No matter what he tried, his well of thoughts gave him nothing useful. Eventually, he decided to write a song about the process of writing the song he was writing. (Did you follow that?  No?  Well … it was the '60s.)

The title and lyrics reflect the time of day—3:35 or 3:34 a.m. He had been sitting up all night, trying to come up with something … anything. Because more traditional lyrics just wouldn’t come, he began writing down what he was experiencing. 

Somehow, I think David, the author of this week’s Psalm 29 passage, would understand. He has written a song encouraging the people to honor their powerful God. But, David is not satisfied with simple encouragement. He needs the song to say more. Did David go to that well and come up empty handed? Possibly. Writing songs can be hard. What I do know is that, like Robert Lamm, David turns to descriptions to complete his lyrics. There are floods, storms, thunder and lightning, earthquakes and mighty winds to include. 

The lesson for us is to look beyond what our senses report to us. David could have just listed those mighty events or not included them at all. There’s a difference with the Psalmist, though. His “well” is never truly empty when he focuses on the Lord. What he sees and hears is the presence of God all about him. David saw God in the storm. He saw God commanding the mighty waters. David wanted those who read and sang his songs to make that transition with him. To move from simply seeing the world to experiencing God in every moment. 

Remember: He, too, saw flashing lights against the sky. 

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Follow the link to hear Chicago perform “25 or 6 to 4” (with lyrics): 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nb13I34J8K4

But you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen the PEANUTS gang do “25 or 6 to 4!”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kpVV4grjoLQ

PHOTO (and a great SMITHSONIAN article about lightning and dark matter(!): 

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/search-elusive-completely-straight-lightning-bolt-180977665/

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I hope you can join us, Friday morning, as we gather for DaySpring’s Lectionary Breakfast. We meet in person at Our Breakfast Place and on Zoom** at 8:00. Lots of laughter mixed in with good food, scripture, and good discussions. 

Blessings,

Steve

**Contact me for the Zoom link

NOTE: Zoom allows you to mute the camera & microphone if you don’t wish to be seen or heard.

SCRIPTURES FOR SUNDAY & THE COMING WEEK

Read them here: 

https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/texts.php?id=107

Print them here:

https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/pdf//Cx_BaptismoftheLord.pdf

Isaiah 43:1-7

Psalm 29

Acts 8:14-17

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

Baptism of the Lord (January 9, 2022)