Monday, April 07, 2008

Heisenberg is coming to Passover

Passover is upon us once again. This year, Heisenberg is coming to Passover and he has changed my thinking on the Jewish holiday.

In years past, I thought that the Passover Seder, the ritual meal, was mystical. The Seder is comprised of fourteen mini-rituals which, if assembled well, comprise a mystical experience.

The mini-rituals of the Passover Seder include matzo, the famous four questions, four glasses of wine and the telling of the Exodus story - best remembered by the movie starring Charlton Heston as Moses. Heston, by the way, died yesterday at his home in Beverly Hills. He was 84.

The word Seder in Hebrew means order. The mini-rituals come in a particular order: Number 1, bless the wine. Number 2, ritual washing of the hands. Number 3, dip the parsley in salt water. Etc. The word Seder also means order in the sense of making order from chaos.

After all, doesn't the very idea of "ritual" suggest some sort of order imposed?

If your family is like mine, order from chaos is a Herculean task (oops, did I just make a reference to something Greek?) If your family is anything like mine, there are children squirming in their seats; Uncle Bob always gets impatient to get on with it (when is it time to eat?); the last glass of wine never gets finished because peoples' attentions wane after all the eating and drinking; and by the way, "who has the Afikomen? - Can't finish the Seder without it."

Pursuing the mystical satisfaction of that perfect Seder requires zealous devotion - a fiery passion best given to younger people than I. When my daughter was born, that mystical pursuit was subordinated to thinking about how I would teach her - of not forgetting that kids being kids necessarily brings us back to the world from ritual meditation.

Heisenberg? Oh yea. Almost forgot. Enter Heisenberg. The traditional heroes of the Passover story are Moses, his brother Aaron, sister Miriam and the prophet Elijah- for whom we open our doors and pour a fifth glass of wine.

This year, I would like to also pour a glass for Werner Heisenberg. He wasn't, by the way, a Jew. He did win a Nobel Prize for physics in 1932 for his work in quantum physics. In 1926 he published a paper which introduced his Uncertainty Principle.

The Uncertainty Principle states, very simply, that the act of observation (of an electron for example) might change the behavior of that which is being observed. In other words, because of the interplay between the light needed to see an electron and the electron itself, the course of the electron might change. Heisenberg concluded that the location, speed and direction of an electron at any point can be described accurately by a matrix of possibilities rather than a single certainty. Hence, electrons orbit in "clouds". Hence, the Uncertainty Principle.

Heisenberg's theory wrecked empirical science - even if he did clarify the confusion of parents (just exchange the word "children" for "electron" in that last paragraph and it will make sense). Heisenberg, after all, had seven of them (kids, not electrons).

That is, despite all of our intent to impose order on the universe by describing it through experiment and observation, there are mysteries we still must fudge. That sometimes we simply cannot make order out of that which we observe.

I might add that my friend Charles Darwin was likely trying to impose order on his observations about the immense diversity of life when he developed his theories of evolution.

Anyway, the pursuit of the perfect Seder - imposing perfect order on the universe is at best, uncertain.

I don't mean to diminish the majesty of Passover or the meticulousness of Darwin's thinking when I say that I find it comforting that despite our best efforts, there is only so much we can do to impose order on our world. Heisenberg gave us scientific permission to be awed by the mysteries in our universe, despite our best efforts to solve them. We must still try to solve them. That is our nature. And they must still continue to elude us. That is just nature.

Happy Passover.

1 comments:

Lynn said...

My journal about Easter....
So yesterday was it. The rising.

I don’t completely understand “lent”, giving up a passion, suffering. That long walk of misery that some are supposed to take up to the cross. Religions fascinate me, but this I just don’t get at times…so here is some of my thoughts.

I thought that perhaps I could choose not to suffer and just move on.
Pick something else.
I had this illusion for a moment that I could alleviate suffering by simply not choosing to participate with mans great religion.

Most of you know my beliefs are not of the organized “Religion” type.
So……….
I haven't set foot in a church for quite a while until yesterday. Curiosity got the best of me…..how can all these folks get so much from it? Was it all that singing and music, stand up sit down, give…give….give?

No, this is not a “confession”. I don't feel bad about it. It's just where I am at the moment, this moment. I don't want to feel like I need to, like I have to fall into “group think”; to celebrate misery, to wallow, to show my scars and cuts.

I'm tired of this image of God on a stick. Stuffed up there until folks are ready to eat His body, drink His blood. Like a holy corn dog.
Don't hit me with the theology either.
I get it.
It's the sacrifice that made it okay for most to be okay with God again.

He was making up for our lacking?

Stupidity?

Selfishness? So we slap Him on a stick and paste it to the wall, or hang it around our neck.

What else we got? We got a picture of him in shepherd’s garb, nursing sheep. What's the word there?
We are supposed to be unthinking fluff balls that stand around and eat all day?
I get that in the old testament a shepherd was a cool guy; hanging in the wilderness killing wolves and playing the harp.
Kind of an early cowboy taking care of the livestock; I could live with that I guess. We act like livestock sometimes.

But I'm tired.
That's just the truth.
I want a picture of God that says "crawl up in my lap and chill".
I want a God who says "have a glass of wine and forget about all this other crap a while. It's a wedding. You should be dancing".
I want to hear Him say "I know you're frustrated and tired, but put the sword down. It just causes more stress. I got this one."

We spend a lot of energy on falling.

We just do.

Something trips us and we spend our time thinking "this is gonna hurt..." as we are on our way face first towards the concrete.
We also spend some time on the ground wondering if we can get up again.
We all do it.
We check to see that all our parts are still attached, that we can still breathe and feel.
I don't feel like we hear a lot about how to rise. I don't.

I get that in some supernatural sense, tomorrow is about a rising that we will get somewhere at the end of our time here.
A payoff that will come in spite of our rising and our falling, our good and our evil. I think there is truth in that, by the way.
I think we have lots of walls in place between us and God, but I don't think He sets them out like hurdles. I think we do....

This is something more, something deeply honest.

I don't need a God on a stick to shore up my eventual entry into my concept paradise.

I need God in a much more practical everyday "hey, I'm over here" kind of way. I need Him in a Dali Lama "Ya mo be there" Doobie Brothers kind of style.
I need that "snatch the pebble from my hand" kind of guidance now.

This God on a stick is a good snack. But it's not what we were meant to live on. It's just not.

No, the thing we got was this barefoot radical walking talking lover of humanity in all its ways and shapes. A Jew with a crew who we claim is still an active force in the universe.
Who still should be there to show me how to rise with some strength and some grace.

On my own, I am not so hot. I'll say it.
It takes a little guidance for me to pick things up. I tend to over do. I took a class once to learn the art of falling. It seemed important to me at the time.
I spent a few days just throwing myself to the ground, and a few more throwing myself at the ground and rolling through. I learned to anticipate the fall, to protect against the fall and to be in a position to rise again.
It was a bitch, but when I fall now I don't usually break. I owe that to the fact that my friend and teacher taught me, got me through, watched me and guided me.

This past three years, I have learned falling in a whole new way. I have been tossed to the ground like some kind of all stars wrestling smack down.

I can kneel in the ring with a little blood running down my lip and look around for the next attack, the next bit of suffering, while some guy up in the stands tells people for a buck they can have God on a stick, and a beer.

I could. But I'm not gonna. I'm gonna change my plan. I'm gonna look for a hand. I'm gonna watch for a God who can to get off the stick when it comes to me.
This is me opening up the possibility that my guru bit of God is close.
I'm hoping I don't get a Burgess Meridith kind of manager God, but I'll take Him as he shows up, if he shows.

If He doesn't show up that way, I'll adjust too.
Keep doing my best to figure out how to let out the best me.
I know that I also am an image, a piece of God (and Goddess).

So are you, by the way. How about that? We all got a little Easter in us.

A little dying, a little rising. And make no mistake. The rising is not negotiable. I intend to rise in any case. I am a child of all religions.

Time then for me to rise; I'm not changing much.

Mostly my expectation I guess.

I'm hoping for something more than a chocolate egg, or a corn dog.

Answer or not…..I know I go off on roads that don’t even resemble roads my poppets, but that is what you like about me. I am simply complex.

So…hope your “holiday” was lovely, whether it was just another weekend or something special….or even a time to embrace family/friends.

Happy day my loves,
Lynn