Never Mind the Infinite Universe




What to say when contemplating one trillion galaxies in the universe, or for that matter, infinite after infinite numbers of atoms, and another infinitude of subatomic particles rushed into existence with an atom smasher? Easy to say that God created all this: just read the books and say the prayers; and easy to say that nobody created it when you’ve got mounds of equations digitalized on a screen laying out the unsanctified history of the entire universe and how smart you are. But never mind what the scientists say or what the priests say or what my mother and father used to say, or my best friend in high school ruminating after he swiped my girlfriend, or the local Baptist minister proclaiming by rote in front of the bored masses who pay him to say it, or my grandfather when he sat upon the judge’s bench in a small Virginia town and gaveled down justice to the powerless; but of all things this!: knees to ground, heart surrendered utterly unto perdition, mind crying out with joy and grief: “How could I have known?”, before rising and walking on with the only certitude that matters in all that infinite stuff.