Quantum Suffering

Our son Peter would be thirteen years old today. Peter was curious,creative, and full of conversation. He was fascinated with the world. He had long talks with his grandfather about the fourth dimension and long talks with me about the concept of “nothing.” He had talks with anyone interested about the many weird-but-true facts he had learned. Did you know that lightning is five times hotter than the surface of the sun?

A weird-but-true fact that he had not yet learned is “quantum entanglement.” As I understand it (which is not at all), quantum entanglement is about how two “quantum entities” (whatever those are) continue to interact with one another even after being separated in space. It seems unbelievable – Einstein dismissed it as “spooky action at a distance” – but it’s based on the experiments and observations of physicists.

John Polkinghorne, a physicist and Anglican priest, writes about this in Quantum Physics andTheology: An Unexpected Kinship. As he does with other aspects of science and theology, Polkinghorne draws an analogy here between quantum entanglement and the incarnation, which we marvel at during Christmas. Through becoming human, God participated in human suffering. Though separated by space (and time) Christ is still “entangled” with us through the cross. He affects and interacts with us and we affect and interact with him. His wounds were visible even in his resurrected body. John’s vision in Revelation describes a lamb “looking as if it had been slain.” Our Lord is the crucified Lord. Christ and his people are entangled in suffering together. He shares our suffering and we share his.

Peter’s presence became wonderfully entangled with my existence. I spent hours trying to get him to sleep as a baby. I spent many hours of delightful conversation with him as a boy. We spent hours – days actually – exploring the mountains together. If Peter had never been born, of course, I would not miss him now. But his absence is now painfully entangled with my existence. I would rather have his absence than have nothing of him at all.

Peter would have enjoyed learning about quantum theory (and he probably would have understood it better than I do). I recall watching a short video about the theory of relativity with him. Why not quantum theory too? Peter’s curiosity had no limits, nor did his delight in the world and its Creator. Did you know that Uranus and Neptune may have oceans of liquid diamond with diamond icebergs floating in them? Our Creator has made a world full of surprises, quantum entanglement among them. Another weird-but-true fact: Did you know that our Creator was willing to suffer death on a cross?

In preparing for next Sunday’s sermon, I read over the story of David and Bathsheba again. Being now more entangled with the suffering of the world, it made me cry this time. Even the greatest of us are sinners. David the anointed king, the man after God’s own heart, committed adultery and murder. His sons were no better. He grieved the death of an infant son, the murder of one, and the death in battle of another. In his grief for the dying baby he fasted and laid on the ground in sackcloth for seven days. Great king David was familiar with sin and suffering. Can’t we find just one good and pure person? Yes, but only one. The one who became entangled with humanity forever in the incarnation and the cross. In fact, the sinfulness of all humanity is the reason he came. They were to give him the name Jesus “because he will save his people from their sins.” Somehow grief has made me more aware of my sinfulness. It is also making me more aware of God’s love. I recently discovered this song that sums it up: Our sins they are many, his mercy is more. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijsjA5Yf8XA&list=RDijsjA5Yf8XA&start_radio=1

The incarnation and death of Jesus is good news. Even better news: he also rose from the dead. By faith we are already entangled with him in resurrection life. We begin to taste it through the gift of the Spirit. We long for it. We groan and are burdened, as the apostle Paul says, longing for our heavenly home. I long for it more now than ever before. Another song, which I learned of from a family whose young son is dying from brain cancer. There are not many songs that express suffering and hope like this. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OIahc83Kvp4

In all of this I find hope. Our daughter has reached eleven, the age at which Peter died. We get to see her personality continue to develop. I don’t get to see the further developments in the personality of my curious, creative, conversationalist thirteen-year-old. But I know that he is in Christ. And I am in Christ.

Though separated by space, by time, by death, we are entangled together in suffering, and resurrection, and glory.