Stars Brightly Shining
Author: Stan Guthrie
July 27, 2023
“Operas seem to like stars,” Pastor Chris mentioned in his sermon on Sunday—and he wasn’t
talking about Luciano Pavarotti or Maria Callas. He was, instead, pointing to operatic works
such as Puccini’s Turandot and Tosca. In the latter, the aria “E lucevan le stelle” is sung about
the lovely Tosca by a condemned man named Mario. The English translation, “And the stars
were shining,” conveys a sense of wistful longing, of unimagined beauty unexpectedly gained
and irretrievably lost:
When the stars were brightly shining ...
And faint perfumes the air pervaded,
Creaked the gate of the garden ...
And footstep its precincts invaded ...
Twas hers, the fragrant creature.
In her soft arms she clasped me...
With sweetest kisses, tenderest caresses,
A thing of beauty, of matchless symmetry in form and feature!
My dream of love is now dispelled forever.
I lived uncaring and now I die despairing!
Alas I die despairing!
And never was life so dear to me, no never,
So dear, no never!
Pastor Chris told me that this fascination with stars in opera is more than a happy artistic
choice. “It’s an expression of the human desire for transcendence,” he told me. “Adam’s race
reaches for the stars in all sorts of ways.”
Operas are not the only artistic creations in which the stars look over us. With this sermon
illustration still rattling around in my brain, on Sunday night I decided to watch Interstellar, a
2014 movie that has been named one of the best science-fiction films of all time. Here is a plot
synopsis:
Set in a dystopian future where humanity is embroiled in a catastrophic blight and famine, the
film follows a group of astronauts who travel through a wormhole near Saturn in search of a
new home for humankind.
The lead in the film, astronaut-turned farmer-turned astronaut Joseph Cooper (played by
Matthew McConaughey) experiences a gravitational anomaly in his daughter’s bedroom that
turns out to be an unknown intelligence seeking to save earthlings from the deadly consequences of their environmental sins. In other words, salvation comes from the stars (or
perhaps from Cooper, whose initials mirror those of a well-known Savior).
Yes, the characters in Interstellar fight heroically—if heroism is possible in a meaningless
cosmos—seeking a fresh start on an unspoiled planet. Beauty is beside the point, however.
The stars in Interstellar shine with a cold, uncaring light. God is nowhere to be found, as either
an object of prayer or cursing. No pastor or theologian shows up with a word of hope or
warning. The universe depicted is closed to angels or divine intervention. Only science,
seasoned with a dash of human love, can save us. If we will not save ourselves, the film says, we
cannot be saved. Meanwhile, the pseudo-scientific miracles required for humanity’s rescue in a
godless universe make the parting of the Red Sea look like child’s play in comparison.
It’s a bleak vision, arresting to the eye but chilling to the heart. As the Preacher cried out,
“Meaningless! Meaningless! Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.”
The film captures some of the angst of current scientific theory. Many scientists today, seeking
something more, believe that, with countless billions of galaxies, stars, and planets whirling all
about us, the universe must be teeming with life. And yet, after doggedly scanning the heavens
for confirmation of this hypothesis, so far they have found no such evidence.
Nor has any extraterrestrial bothered to visit us, according to the best evidence we have.
Scientists have labeled this unexpected state of affairs the Fermi Paradox. As the late science-
fiction author Arthur C. Clarke said, “Two possibilities exist: Either we are alone in the universe
or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.”
Fear that we are alone is near to the surface. “The scariest answer to the Fermi Paradox is that
there are no aliens at all,” said Elon Musk, the eccentric billionaire, in a recent Tweet. “[That]
we are the only tiny candle of consciousness in an abyss of darkness.”
Christians, however, can face this star-filled universe not with fear or grim resignation, but with
hope. This hope comes not because we may one day visit other worlds in humanistic self-
confidence, but because our world has already been visited from beyond the stars, but not by
aliens. As Pastor Chris said, “God has sent his Son, the bright and morning star, to us.”
That’s a beauty worth singing about.
Stan Guthrie, NCC’s minister of communications, also blogs at stanguthrie.com.
Photo by Khamkéo Vilaysing on Unsplash
BACK