I don’t really care about the James Webb Telescope images. And before you come for my Gen-Z, curtain-banged head I want to provide some context for my controversial statement. I do think that the invention of a telescope that allows us to see galaxies and stars from 7,600+ light years away is quite a spectacular feat. It’s cool to see what human beings are capable of creating in order that we may explore the universe; and I tip my hat to whoever worked to bring these images to light.
Why the cynicism? For starters, the vibrant colors that we see in the photos may not even be the actual colors of the physical nebula — which is to say that the photos have been doctored. I won’t say they’re fake, but … as the Atlantic points out:
Infrared is invisible to us, which means that Webb’s sparkliest pictures, including the Carina shot, have been processed and filled in with color. Scientists pore over every pixel, measuring the incoming light and the ways it has been stretched on its way across the universe … Think of it like translating one language into another […]
There is some artistic license involved, though. “You really are trying to show the different details and the processes that are happening in astronomical images, but at the end of the day, you want it to be very compelling,” […]
“You want it to be very beautiful because space is beautiful.”
It may very well be that the Carina glows with colors as vibrant as the ones photoshopped in, but the use of artistic license does dull a little bit of its sparkle. What’s supposed to be an authentic image of space is altered to make it more “compelling” — as if being able to actually photograph outer space isn’t compelling enough. It’s like a dad’s dramatized retelling of the night he dropped his daughter off for her first date in middle school. The story is funny on its own but he has to make sure to use this phrase and that joke to really hit a home run. Or like an attempt to bulk up a resume — instead of “Project Manager” it’s better to type in “Director of Operations” because that will sound more impressive.
But more to the point, I don’t find the images of nebulas, bursting with color and *hope*, particularly life-changing. And the truth is that you probably haven’t either.
It’s been exactly 29 days since the pictures were released and our anxiety is still better soothed by our doctor-prescribed medications or self-prescribed vacation time, not by any knowledge of what may or may not lurk in the outerverse. In that time frame, the heat of the summer has only gotten worse and the amount of showers I take has definitely doubled. Life hasn’t necessarily gotten worse, but it certainly hasn’t improved.
The awe of seeing the telescope photos is vast for the moment, but it eventually wears off. And when it does, we’ll either attempt to make something better or try to reach an even higher goal. One release of an out-of-this-world (ha) telescope photo prompts a desire to see what more we can photograph. The thirst for glory is insatiable.
In an article from the New York Times, the author stated that the telescope photos restored his faith in humanity. He remarked that the telescope can help answer fundamental questions about how the universe came to be, whether or not our world is the only world with life, and if there is another planet to which we can escape. And while those answers may be fascinating, the fundamental questions I want answers for are not about aliens in other galaxies. Peering into the abyss and feeling one’s cosmic insignificance doesn’t move the needle in any real way when it comes to everyday life.
Along these lines, how we experience the presence of God (whatever that may mean) needs more than wonder — more than awe and an understanding of our smallness. The heavens might declare the glory of God, but our experience of God needs to have its feet on the ground, so to speak, amid our daily lives. It needs to access our emotions and our basic need for love and acceptance. We need something that will not only show us the reality of our existence, but also provide a way that we can be saved from the reality of our existence. A knowledge of other galaxies and their stars aren’t going to help our bad days, mad days, or sad days. And as tempting as moving to another planet may be, it’s not going to be a refuge for all our problems.
What can be a safe haven for all our issues, worries, flurries, and whims? Who can rescue us from the truth of our humanity? The One who is our refuge and our strength (Psalm 46). A man who understands what it feels like to be human living on this strange, blue marble of a planet we call home. A God who created the galaxy, far, far away, with no photoshop needed.
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3 responses to “Intergalactic Letdown”
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Wow, such an interesting take. I guess I would say that while these images don’t “restore faith in humanity” they are deeply hopeful for me. Because the God who created all that “vast expanse of interstellar source” as Eucharist Prayer C in the Episcopal (US) Book of Common Prayer puts it is the very same God who series a relationship with me and has gone to great and personal lengths to do so. What other creator story contains that? And that same God created in humans in his imagine which means we too are creative makers hence telescopes. Plus I guess I already knew all those colors could very well be “wrong” therefore it’s not in the least bit deceptive (unfortunately we can’t see UV or IR like other creatures in the God’s beautiful creation, this keeps us humble knowing we can’t really “see” it all). So take heart, science can go one of two ways, it can fool us into thinking we are gods or it can point us to something much much more awesome. The Good news is the awesome wants to hang out with us!
I love this. Cali, you crack me up.
Well done!