How the cosmos reveals God’s love for us
How the cosmos reveals God’s love for us

There exists a moment just after you’ve exited our galaxy when, unexpectedly, the void of space is illuminated by countless new points of light. What you observe resembles an incredibly vibrant night sky on Earth, with every star aglow. However, these are not individual stars that you are witnessing — at least not as singular entities. As the planetarium’s narrator explains, “every dot you see now represents a galaxy composed of many billions of stars.” Thousands of dots, each harboring billions of stars. This jump in scale is nearly beyond comprehension. Your mind struggles to grasp it. It is in this moment that the vastness of your insignificance prompts you to gasp audibly.
I have observed that gasp for over 17 years now. It occurs during the 50-minute planetarium show titled “All Creation Gives Praise” that I co-developed with my astronomer partner, Phil Sakimoto, in Notre Dame’s Digital Visualization Theater.
This collaboration began when I first experienced the vastness of our observable universe under Phil’s instruction inside this dome-shaped auditorium. I was taken aback when we transitioned from viewing stars to witnessing galaxies that appeared star-like. I was also astonished when I observed the microwave radiation from the Big Bang, emanating from approximately 13.8 billion light years in the distance. I was astonished once more when we returned to our own world after observing the incredible distances between all other entities.
Following that event, we have been striving to assist individuals in grasping what they can observe from this planetarium venue, while also providing them the chance to worship the God who creates and oversees everything — the God who enriches our moments of awe with his affection.
Rekindling wonder
Wonder is hard to come by currently. Our media producers and content creators have become incredibly skilled at capturing our attention, making it increasingly difficult for us to concentrate on a single task for extended periods. Wonder requires time; it encompasses more than just shock and disruption. Wonder represents a bond of closeness, where you experience admiration for something that surpasses your understanding, becoming even more captivating the longer you engage with it.
68% of Americans say there is no conflict between their personal religious beliefs and science, according to a 2015 study by the Pew Research Center.
In his remarkable work regarding the importance of detachment and loneliness for genuine human existence, Cardinal Robert Sarah in his book “The Power of Silence” (Ignatius, $18.95) speaks candidly when assessing our current media environment: “Visuals act as substances we have become dependent on, as they are ubiquitous and ever-present. Our vision is impaired, overwhelmed; it cannot shut down. One must also shield their ears, as there are auditory images that attack and disturb our hearing, our reasoning, and our creativity.”
Wonder is a connection of closeness, where you find yourself amazed by something that transcends your understanding, which becomes increasingly captivating the more time you spend with it.
Cardinal Sarah is not promoting the idea of immersing ourselves in sensory isolation chambers in an attempt (fruitlessly) to eliminate all observing, thought, and reflection. Instead, he is articulating what many individuals deeply sense: There is no moment or environment today where we can genuinely concentrate, reflect, and meditate — everything is coming at us at an overwhelming pace; we are ceaselessly inundated with stimuli. The vast majority of us are quite distant from the typical life experience of someone like 18th-century Congregationalist preacher, Jonathan Edwards, who expressed in his “Spiritual Exercises” that “I spent most of my time in thinking of divine things, year after year, often walking in the woods, and solitary places, for meditation, soliloquy, and prayer, and converse with God. … Prayer seemed to be natural to me, as the breath by which the inward burnings of my heart had vent.”
Edwards praises the expressive nature of the natural world, whereas Cardinal Sarah mourns the stifling impact of excessive artificial imagery. The contrast between the two becomes evident when we stand atop a mountain, wander through a forest, or find ourselves enveloped by expansive prairies. It is not that the Wind River Range in Wyoming is inherently superior to the natural environment of Lower Manhattan; rather, Lower Manhattan has turned into a locale filled with activity, digital interactions, and synthetic visuals, while the wilds of Wyoming remain untouched by technological, commercial, and industrial influences. In Manhattan, you are more likely to be inundated with manufactured visuals, whereas in Wyoming, you are more prone to being captivated by the beauty of nature.

Don’t act foolishly; awaken your awareness.
The “Creator of heaven and earth” is certainly present in Lower Manhattan — quite the opposite. Rather, individuals who are familiar with such environments tend to become numb to the indications and remnants of God amidst the constant hustle and bustle. This could equally apply today in a person’s own living room, where screens and alerts compete for focus at every fleeting instant.
Well before the industrial or digital revolutions, St. Bonaventure addressed the dangers of perpetual distraction and the necessity to be renewed in the Word of God, who is the source of all existence. He stated: “Thus, anyone not illuminated by the brilliance of created wonders is blind; anyone not stirred by such calls is deaf; anyone who fails to glorify God because of these manifestations is mute; anyone who cannot recognize the First Principle from such evident indicators is a fool. Hence, open your eyes, awaken the ears of your spirit, part your lips, and engage your heart so that in every being you can see, hear, praise, love and worship, glorify and honor your God” (“The Journey of the Soul into God”).
The contradiction noted by Bonaventure is that our senses need to be attuned in order to perceive God within creation. One might think that our senses are fully engaged as they constantly interact with the vast array of images, sounds, and streams of information that envelop us in modern times. However, the reality is that our senses become numbed by these stimuli, resulting in genuine perception being hindered and eventually extinguished by this sensory barrage, much like an excess of cotton candy spoils a normally healthy appetite. This is a lesson that Edmund Pevensie learned all too well in “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” after consuming an excessive amount of enchanted Turkish Delight: “nothing diminishes the flavor of good regular food quite like the recollection of poor magical food.” Artificial visuals used to capture our focus represent the poor magical food; while natural visuals signify the good regular food.
Withdrawing to the cosmos
Time spent “off the grid” in a natural setting devoid of artificial influences can rejuvenate the appetite and awaken the senses once more. A structured pilgrimage, like one on the Camino de Santiago, or perhaps a spiritual immersion experience. We can escape to the desert, escape to the forest, or escape to the ocean. But could we ever truly escape to outer space? Even the select handful of astronauts or wealthy individuals who venture into space only travel to near space, hardly exiting the Earth’s atmosphere, or at most 250,000 miles away to our moon. The profound expanses of space remain, in fact, inaccessible. But what if they were not?

Although the limits of physics restrict us from transporting our bodies beyond, at most, the immediate vicinity of our planet, effectively leveraging technology allows us to focus on locations and objects that we are unable to physically access. If we were to engage with a collection of artificial visuals and constructed experiences, we would merely be trading one form of media oversaturation for another. However, if we could witness the genuine imagery that our technological resources provide, we would be partaking in an experience similar to navigating a map in three-dimensional space. Only by doing so could the distant corners of the universe transform into a sanctuary for escaping into nature, much like other getaway locations.
The foundation upon which “All Creation Gives Praise” stands is simply this: to solely showcase authentic astronomical observations in order to foster a captivating natural setting that reignites awe. The utilized technology amplifies our vision via satellite imagery; it systematically arranges and categorizes what has been detected, providing participants with an experience of sequentially and proportionally navigating through these cosmic realities within a domed theater. What participants behold are “perspectives of what you would witness if you could genuinely traverse space.” The potential of discovering something genuinely novel and astonishing is, as the astronomical narration states, “not science fiction, but scientific reality.”
Science and religion
Observing is not the same as faith, yet faith requires observation. We progress towards conviction in things we cannot or have not yet witnessed based on our past experiences. Indeed, the Lord expressed to St. Thomas that “Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed” (Jn 20:29). However, right after that, St. John the Evangelist notes that these signs “are documented so that you may [come to] have faith that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God” (Jn 20:31). In simpler terms, St. Thomas witnessed the exalted risen form of his Master, while all other followers after him must depend on the signs documented in the Gospel to take the step of faith in that same Master. We observe signs and then, based on the signs we’ve observed, are encouraged to trust in the one to whom the signs direct us.
30% of Americans see a conflict between science and their religious beliefs; the most common source of disagreement involves beliefs about evolution and the creation of the universe.
The manner in which science and religion connect in “All Creation Gives Praise” is similar to the association between the signs of the Incarnate Word and one’s faith in him. What we investigate is what astronomers refer to as “the observable universe” — encompassing all that has been detected through astronomical methods. The expanse of the sky is too immense and the distances too vast to witness everything, so through mutual agreement, astronomers have decided to systematically scan and chart the sky in particular directions, compiling everything they are capable of detecting and examining. Utilizing scientific reasoning, astronomers strive to pinpoint and comprehend that which is noticeable. “All Creation Gives Praise” incorporates these observations, the elements we can detect. The purpose of the astronomical segment of the presentation is to assist participants in enhancing their knowledge and understanding of what we, as humans, have observed in the cosmos.
The function of theological contemplation, therefore, is primarily to be in awe of what we observe through the language of Scripture and Tradition, which then encourage us to consider the potential for deeper faith. What we observe are indications of the Word of God, by whom and through whom everything is created. Once we start to grasp what we are witnessing, the structure and yearning of the faith’s language create a journey that transitions from wonder to prayer.
An astonishing benefit of the capacity to perceive and traverse the observable universe is that it uncovers the inner splendor of the Word of God in manners that may have been previously unknowable. For instance, we might reflect on the stage in the voyage referred to earlier, where we leave the Milky Way galaxy and start to witness the illumination of countless entire galaxies populating our visual field. The astronomical storytelling guides us to a deeper comprehension of what we are currently observing, as galaxies are tinted in various colors for an instructive aim:
“Each dot you see now is not a star. Each dot is a galaxy made up of many billions of stars. Galaxies of the same color are bound together into a cluster, held together by their mutual gravitational attraction. Notice that the clusters are not randomly distributed in space. Instead, they tend to lie along long filaments. These filamentary structures are places where there is more gravitational attraction than in other places. We do not know what causes this extra gravitational attraction, but we do know that whatever it is emits no light. It is dark. Therefore, we call it ‘Dark Matter.’
“While gravity, aided by Dark Matter, holds clusters of galaxies together, we also observe that each cluster is moving away from every other cluster. The entire universe is expanding and taking the clusters of galaxies with it. … In recent years, we have discovered, again through observations, that the rate at which the universe is expanding is speeding up. We do not know what is causing this acceleration. We do know that it is an energy that pervades all space, and we know that we cannot see it: it gives off no light. So we call it ‘Dark Energy.’”
A coalition of belief and logic
As the astronomical tale concludes, the story of belief begins anew, with attendees still observing the growing array of clustered galaxies as we move further from the Milky Way. While the astronomical tale speaks to each listener in the manner a guide would speak to a newcomer in an unfamiliar territory, the faith narrative is presented in the first-person perspective, enabling every participant to adopt this voice as their own. Observe how the phrases from the psalms and even a quotation from a saint enable each traveler to articulate their feelings in this moment of awe:
“I am still tempted to think there are places You do not know, Lord, where my boldness will escape your safety. But ‘if I say, surely darkness will conceal me, night will provide me with cover; you reveal that darkness is not dark for You, night is as light as day; darkness and light are the same’ [cf. Ps 139:11-12]. ‘You are clothed in glory and majesty, wrapped in a robe of light; you spread the heavens like a tent cloth’ [cf. Ps 104:1-2]. And in the gentle mirror of your glory [St. Catherine of Siena, “The Dialogue”], ‘I see that I am wonderfully made’ [cf. Ps 139:14]. Help me entrust myself to your glory.”
Thus, the whole presentation serves as a dynamic encounter of the conversation of science and spirituality, belief and logic, celestial studies and religious doctrine. We endeavor to perceive and comprehend more clearly, enabling us to worship and honor more profoundly, sincerely, and courageously. Science stays as science and faith remains as faith — however, through engaging in a welcoming dialogue, something novel arises: a fusion of belief and logic.
Science stays science and religion stays religion — however, by engaging in a mutually respectful dialogue, something novel arises: a blending of faith and reason.
As one expert in astronomy remarked after witnessing this presentation: “I came to realize that the void of space is genuinely enveloped in the love of God.” Similarly, this theologian reflected on my own journey through the universe in awe and prayer: “I came to understand that God’s love for us does not depend on any particular cosmic importance we possess; it revolves entirely around the depth of his focus. I found anew the significance of the Eucharist among the stars.”

Why we matter
The psalmist could perceive no further than his unadorned vision allowed him, and yet he gazed in wonder at the nighttime expanse and released his admiration: “When I observe your heavens, the handiwork of your fingers, / the moon and stars that you established — / What is man that you consider him, / and a son of man that you attend to him? / Yet you have created him slightly less than a deity, / and crowned him with glory and splendor”Ps 8:4-6).
The impact of directing our attention to the furthest boundaries of the observable universe is returning to our specific location, in our individual time, to recognize ourselves … tiny, seemingly trivial, a mote of dust in a moment of time cast amid the enormity of existence. Acknowledging this reality shatters our misconceptions about our significance and our fantasies regarding God. We are not the focal point of the universe: this exploration allows us to perceive that distinctly. From more than approximately 100 light years away, not only is there no evidence of our reality, but furthermore, there would be no method to perceive our existence. (This is due to the fact that around 100 light years is roughly how far our radio and television waves have extended into the cosmos, providing proof of our existence.) Everything we have ever experienced is enclosed within an unimaginably small sphere of cosmic space, with potentially infinite additional space on all sides. In cosmic terms, we simply don’t hold significance.
In the grand scheme of the cosmos, our significance is negligible. However, we hold value in the eyes of God.
However, we hold significance to God. To us, the Father has dispatched his Son. To unite with us, the Word became incarnate. For our sake, God offers his essence. We are capable of perceiving everything that has existed and will exist, yet all of it means nothing if we do not transition from merely recognizing the splendid “sign” of creation itself to understanding that the essence of heaven and earth was once embraced in the small space of Mary’s womb. The fullness and depth of the Lord of the universe — through whom, with whom, and in whom all that exists, exists — is manifested to us under the form of humble bread and wine at the altar. Everything that is present serves as the setting for that which is most extraordinary and astonishing of all: God comes to us.
Left to our own capabilities, “the limitless expanse of space and time distances us from God,” states Simone Weil. “How are we to search for him? How are we to move towards him? … We are unable to advance upwards. We cannot take a stride towards heaven. … [Rather,] God traverses the cosmos and approaches us … [and] across the boundless infinity of space and time, the infinitely more boundless love of God comes to embrace us” (“Waiting for God”).
Science, Reason and Faith |
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This yearning for truth ultimately leads us to our Creator. God knows the longings of the human heart, and he reveals himself to us through creation, through Scripture, and ultimately through the Incarnation. Because God the Son became man, we have a person to look to in our pursuit of truth: Jesus Christ himself, who is Truth. Christ helps us see that truth is not just the object of science and reason, but what animates the mysterious and loving power of faith. In “Science, Reason, and Faith” ($34.95), Father Robert Spitzer, SJ, explores in depth the Bible and the intersection of three realms that the secular world tells us are separate and incompatible. Father Spitzer draws the modern reader’s attention to the many seeming conflicts between science, reason and Catholic teaching. By tackling these difficult questions, he shows that it is precisely through the integration of science, reason and faith that we can truly discover ourselves, our world and our God. Get your copy at osvcatholicbookstore.com. |
God approaches us so we can reach out to him. This is the essence of all being. The Incarnation is the lowering motion, the Ascension represents the action that paves the path for our own elevation. An expedition across the universe reveals that no matter how far we travel independently, we will never attain satisfaction and serenity unless we embrace the grace of a God who approaches us.
“All Creation Gives Praise” is an esteemed expedition, situated at the crossroads of belief and logic, one that can unveil fresh aspects of prayer, desire, and thankfulness. However, what is genuinely essential is not limited to those equipped with the capability for astronomical insights, an advanced planetarium, or even analytical reasoning abilities. While all these resources can be helpful, the truly vital aspect is to transform our own creative space into a venue of worship, commencing and concluding with the gift of the Eucharist.