Podcast
Culture
S&U interviews
3 min read

My conversation with... Jennifer Wiseman

Re-enchanting podcast guest Jennifer Wiseman shared an infectious wonder at the universe. Podcast co-host Belle Tindall reflects on their conversation.

Belle is the staff writer at Seen & Unseen and co-host of its Re-enchanting podcast.

Four stars scintilate above a spiral galaxy viewed from the side.
Hubble Space Telescope captures a side-on view of NGC 3568, a barred spiral galaxy roughly 57 million light-years from the Milky Way.
European Space Agency, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

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The details of astronomy, the workings of astrophysics, the enormity of space, the fact that the universe is still expanding by the moment, the mystery of what lies beyond what we can see and even predict – those are things that do not sit comfortably in the confines of my brain.  

It’s as if my brain is allergic to the sheer enormity of the subject. My mind does deep, it does not take lightly to vast.  

And that is precisely why I so thoroughly enjoyed my conversation with astronomer, author and speaker, Dr Jennifer Wiseman for the Re-Enchanting podcast. Jennifer is Director Emeritus of the programme of Dialogue on Science, Ethics and Religion for the American Association for the Advancement of Science. She is also a senior astrophysicist at the NASA Goddard Space Flight Centre. Science is a means by which Jennifer is able to live a wonderfully curious life, marvelling at the natural world and what lies beyond it.  

When the narrative of science and religion being ultimately and inevitably at war with each other is the narrative that gets (by far) the most amplification, it was really interesting to hear how they coincide so powerfully for Jennifer. When talking with her, it becomes clear that they co-exist, they are the symbiotic forces that fuel her wonder at the universe. A wonder that is undeniably infectious. As she pointed out, the very fact that we have a curiosity about the universe we find ourselves in is, in itself, something to marvel at. 

‘We are here, we’ve come through this 13.8 billion year development of the universe to the point where we can have this self-contemplating life that recognises a bit of where we’ve come from and how we connect to the universe.’ 

These are surely the thoughts that existential crises are made of.  

Speaking with Jennifer made me feel small. Small in time, and small in place. I suppose dwelling on the enormity of an ever-expanding universe will do that to a person. Afterall, there are around one hundred billion stars in our galaxy (that we know of), the closest of which is four lightyears away. The vast majority of these stars have their own solar systems, hosting their own planets that orbit around them. And that’s still only within the confines of our own cosmic neighbourhood; there are hundreds of billions of galaxies in our (observable) universe, and infinite mystery that sits far beyond these numbers.  

Since our conversation, I’ve been left with this simple, but salient thought – we’re incredibly small. But further to that, I’ve been pondering the notion that there’s a good kind of small, and perhaps we are it. We may be just one of the eight-billion inhabitants of a ‘pale blue dot’ in a universe that stretches far beyond the capacities of human understanding and measurement, but there’s a profound beauty in that. It does not equate to a feeling of non-consequentialism or oblivion, on the contrary, it is deeply empowering. It is, after all, the powerful reality upon which much of the twelve steps of recovery offered by AA/NA is built. There is a mysterious, and yet obviously tangible, power in coming face-to-face with our own small-ness, and surrendering to that which is deeper, higher, bigger than us.   

Learning a little about Jennifer’s childhood living among the Ozark Mountains, with evenings spent gazing up at a canopy of stars that stretched from ‘horizon to horizon’, it was enchanting to hear about how her career has been an out-living of a childhood appreciation for the things that are so much bigger than us mere humans.  

If you have a pull towards all things astronomy, this episode is undoubtedly for you. If you’ve ever pondered what science and faith look like when they’re not entering the ring from different corners, readying themselves for a show-down, this episode is also for you. If you’re craving enchantment of the most cosmic kind, this episode is for you too.  

This conversation with Dr Jennifer Wiseman will be a refreshing antidote to the disillusion that comes with assuming we are the centre of our universe.  

Article
Culture
Film & TV
4 min read

Why we rewatch The Lord of The Rings each year

Great quotes, powerful themes, stir memories.

Steve is news director of Article 18, a human rights organisation documenting Christian persecution in Iran.

Two hobbits gaze at something.
New Line Cinema.

Every January for the past 15 years, my wife and I have re-watched The Lord of The Rings trilogy. Not the extended version, but, still, it’s a lot of hours to have committed to re-watching every year.  

So, why do we do it?  

Well, principally I suppose it’s simply because we believe the films to be excellent - arguably the best ever screen adaptation of a work of fiction - but I also think it's because the story has so much to teach us about real life.  

After watching them so many times, I can now quote most of the script, yet I still struggle to pick my favourite bits; there are just too many. 

From Samwise Gamgee’s speech about the greatest stories - those that “meant something” - being ones where “the chief characters had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going, because they were holding on to something … that there’s some good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for”. 

To Gandalf’s encouragement to Peregrine Took, when the hobbit senses that he is about to meet his maker, of what follows after we die: that death is not the end, it’s “just another path; one that we all must take”, and how “the grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver and glass, and then you see it … white shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise”. 

“That's not so bad,” Pippin replies, and of course, he’s right. 

Aside from the great quotes - and, trust me, there are many more I could mention - there’s also the way in which the breadth of human emotions and frailties are so perfectly depicted, such as our susceptibility to temptation, and how it can sometimes make us act in a manner that, as Frodo says of Boromir when he tries to rob him of the ring, is not like ourself.  

It is also encouraging to see how both the powerful and the meek - Gandalf and Samwise - are equally prone to temptation’s pull. 

The depth of friendships enjoyed by the hobbits is also a joy to behold, shining a light on that rarest gift of close friendship, while the films are kept mercifully free of anything smutty; on the contrary, they feel perfectly pure. 

And there is even the compulsory happy ending, with good triumphing over evil and the dragons being thrown down by the eagles in an apocalyptic scene worthy of the Book of Revelation. 

The author, J.R.R. Tolkien was a Catholic who served in both world wars, so it is hardly surprising that religious imagery can be found throughout, as well as glimpses into the ghastliest realities of war. 

One of the religious themes is the power of the weak to shame the strong, with the little hobbits - described as “the most unlikely creature imaginable” to have discovered the ring after it abandoned Gollum - ultimately being hailed as the saviours of Middle Earth and told by the new King of Gondor that they need “bow to no-one”. 

As Gandalf puts it, “even the smallest person can change the course of the future”. 

Meanwhile, everyone - even the trees, wonderfully portrayed as walking, talking “Ents” - have a part to play, with Merry lambasting them for initially deciding not to fight by saying: “But you’re part of this world, aren’t you?”  

As he says to his friend Pippin, should the fires of Isengard spread, “there won’t be any Shire” for them to return to. 

But the moment that really gets me, every time I watch it, comes at the very end, when - *spoiler alert* - Frodo speaks of feeling unable to return to normal life after such a big adventure. 

As someone who has had a few adventures of my own in the past - albeit none quite so fraught with danger - I can relate strongly to that sensation of coming home again and being overwhelmed by the feeling that nothing has changed, while at the same time believing that within myself, so much has.  

I often think back to the time my dear parents picked my wife and I up from the airport, a decade ago now, after we’d just flown back from Alaska having hitchhiked there from Argentina, and they spent the car journey updating us on the lives of my cousins. Not that I didn't want to hear their news; only that, at that moment, it felt as though there might be something else worth discussing. 

I think of that moment every time I watch the films’ denouement, and resonate with Frodo’s words when he says the Shire has been saved, but not for him; that some wounds from the past “run too deep” for the “threads of an old life” to be picked up again. 

But beyond the fantastic quotes and all 'The Lord of the Rings' has to teach us about life, the three films are also all simply a fantastic watch, which, if you haven't already, I would urge you to make the time for, and if you have, I would encourage you to do so again, even if you don't do it every year. 

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