Last Thursday, on Ascension Day itself, I attended the evening Mass at the Cathedral. A simple Mass for a small congregation - there were seven of us. And a very brief sermon, just a few words really, from the Dean. Also simple, but stunning - no more than a few thoughts, but those few set my mind racing, in delight and wonder and glorious agreement. The Dean modestly began (while, in my view, rather vaguely wandering about the aisle): “As we are so few in number, just us really, do you mind if I offer the words I really want, rather than what I feel I should say?” Six murmured their happy approval. I thought, “Oh, no.” How wrong I was. Most of the Dean’s professional life has been as a scientist, he taught physics and astronomy at Lehigh University for many years. He retains that same interest with that same brilliance. He was, it turned out, asking our permission to speak a few words on the magnificent Feast of the Ascension that were more scientific than he might normally speak at Mass. The comments were, of course, brief. So brief, and so thought-provoking, so faith-sustaining. Now that I think of it, I suppose e = mc2 is surely a brief notation, but apparently it packs a wallop. “There is” the Dean began, “a Theory in Astrophysics that is unsettling to astrophysicists, indeed most scientists. But it is proven and accepted, though not understood. At all. It is a discovery called Entanglement Theory”. The Dean referred to it by way of illustration really, but I have not been able to get it out of my mind, my very unscientific mind. Tiny bits of atoms, electrons, can join in an odd relationship that exists, but baffles. They are entangled. When one changes characteristics, the partner does as well. Distance is not an issue. Not at all. When one electron over here spins one way, the other over here does as well. If some force compels one electron to reverse spin, the other does as well, immediately and automatically. It just does. And no one, no one, knows why. This electron can be on one side of a galaxy, and the other, thousands, millions of light-years away, in another galaxy, and it will still match each and every change, at once, and without error. Regardless. The Dean admitted that this behavior annoys and irritates physicists, who cannot account for it, or explain it. All they can do is notice it, record it, and admit it is true - even though so amazing, so unlikely. I smirked to myself” “hmmm ... doubtless as a great deal of Christian theology annoys most of them,” since that also probably seems so unlikely, seems inexplicable, seems to defy reason and logic, and above all their understanding of things. But they both do defy human logic and human understanding - our theology and their very own entanglement theory. I was delighted. The Dean briefly then commented that the Ascension has a bit of that for him, it reminds us that we are entangled with Christ, if you will, and that we then do as he did. We are entangled, and so God sees us as God sees him, we are one with him, as those disciples remained one with him, even after his Ascension. The Dean concluded, and we began the Creed. But my mind was reeling. What a wonderfully satisfying image, particularly because it comes from a finding that is infuriating to those same secular scientists who discovered it, and made it known. The more I thought about it, then and later, the more I felt it is a wonderful statement of what really does prevail between God and us, what sort of relationship has in fact been established between us, by him, through Christ. Now I realize entangled can have a tawdry meaning, suggesting a risky romantic mess or a not-so-legal shenanigan that is sure to get exposed. But the real word, the pure word, as the scientists must mean it, is, it seems to me, exactly what St Paul meant when he spoke of being united with Christ in life and death. “If we have been united with Christ in a death like his we shall also be united with him in a Resurrection like his.” United with Christ in a death like his, and so, just so, we shall surely be united with him in a Resurrection like his. It probably makes that great Easter triumphant affirmation seems seedy and silly if we substitute the scientific word, unless you know how it is meant, and in what precise and definite way - but yes, if Paul had been an astrophysicist instead of a tent-maker, he might have said, “entangled in a death like Christ’s that we might surely then also be entangled in his Resurrection”. The Ascension gives us that unforgettable portrait of Jesus, in that mystical and equally incomprehensible image - perfect man and perfect God. At the Resurrection the crucified man was revealed as the Risen God, at the Ascension Jesus is not journeying toward God, as though on a pilgrimage, he is returning to God, returning into the fullness of the Holy Trinity, from whence he came, and where he had and now again, and will eternally abide. But he carries into that presence, that divine reality he shared with the Father and Spirit from before all time and forever, he carries into that union now, his union with us. At the Incarnation, God took on human flesh, as a reality, not as a changeable garment. The Incarnate God, Christ, is from that moment, for all ages, true God and true man, fully human and fully divine, perfectly, indivisibly, eternally entangled with both, God and all humanity, and he retains that full and perfect union of his two natures. It seems to me that often enough the Church does not make a big enough fuss over the very Feast, the Ascension, that shows all of that so graphically and beyond doubt or question. The Biblical faith expressed by St Paul and ever after believed and celebrated by the Church is that through the Incarnation, we are one with Christ, and he is one with God, and at the Ascension we see him, and ourselves proceeding into God - not just into God’s presence, but proceeding into his life and glory. So, so reassuring when we consider along with Paul the abiding comfort he was giving to that little congregation in his Epistle to the Romans - that sublime and perfect reassurance to them, and so to us, that therefore, in light of this great truth, it follows, necessarily, that “nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” - nothing - “neither height nor depth nor angels ... nor things present nor things to come ... nothing can separate us” now. We are entangled forever. But union, entanglement, with Christ, makes demands and carries expectations that may not be so welcome, all the time. If Christ is betrayed by those he loves, he forgives. The spin is reversed, and so must ours be. When he is alone and abandoned, forgotten, mocked, scourged, he loves, and we must mirror the spin - the spin away from hurt to redeeming love for any and all who might seek us harm. Easy, apparently unavoidable, if you are an electron. If you are a complicated, real, living human being, not so easy, not so sure. The reversing of our course, our thoughts, our resentments, our prejudice, our selfish ways - not so easy at all to reverse any of that instantly and perfectly. And all because there is this huge and undeniable difference between us and simple atomic electrons, isn’t there? A source of joy and satisfaction, a source of comfort and dignity - but also carrying a risk and a challenge always. Electrons may well behave predictably, reliably, according to elegant model, unfailingly, if mystically conforming perfectly to Entanglement expectations. But the simple little electron does not have our great asset and our troubling gift - self-will. We have the ability, indeed the right, to decide freely how we will, or will not, respond, no matter how powerful and permanent our entanglement with Christ, our union with him. God gave us that gift at Creation. You can choose - choose not to allow Christ to achieve perfect behavior in us. We are, as we saw in Eden, free, indeed, to choose to defy God, and deny our nature. The electron will reverse spin, even across the universe. We will sometimes not reverse course, just across the room. And so, whether or not electrons pray, a question that would really infuriate the already annoyed physicists, there is no doubt at all that we can, we can pray, and we can sin, and we do sin, instead of spin in the direction intended by our Lord. And so we do pray, and worship, and hope, and trust, and believe, and treasure St Paul’s promise, that “we shall surely be united with Christ.” Even more, this leads him to conclude with conviction, grace, and glory. That we are, he insists “one with God - for we are one with Christ, and Christ is one with God”. Now that, it seems to me, puts a very hopeful and holy spin on it, doesn’t it?