19th Sunday in Ordinary Time
If you know anything about the history of science you might remember that at the end of the nineteenth century many in the scientific community felt that science had basically attained a level of knowledge and understanding that was nearly complete. This was especially true for physics --- specifically, how matter “works” --- that is, how it is structured and how it interacts with other matter. In the minds of many scholars Isaac Newton had given the world a nearly complete picture that would never be disproven. Any subsequent developments would simply be a “tweaking” of his theories --- theories that didn’t just describe the heavens, but which some thought had actually come down from them.
This was until scientists began to look at the very, very small. And that changed everything. We call this branch of physics quantum mechanics --- the science of what takes place at the atomic level. Now, I’m certainly not going to go into detail. But let’s just say, when scientists started exploring what was taking place inside of an atom, they were shocked. The theories of Isaac Newton no longer seemed to apply (or were woefully incomplete). A different set of rules seemed to be at play. The behavior of the electron (a negatively charged particle outside of the nucleus) was particularly confusing.
What they found (in essence) was that they couldn’t ever predict where any given electron would be (its position) or what its momentum was. All they had were probabilities. (In fact, the closer they got to measuring the one, the less they knew about the other.) Up until the point of trying to measure an electron’s position (as close as quantum mechanics would allow) any particular electron could only be considered to be “everywhere” or “nowhere” (whichever you prefer). This uncertainty has sort of befuddled scientists ever since.
Everywhere or nowhere.
We like things to be predictable, don’t we? For example, we like being able to know that a particular action will yield a particular outcome. Or that a certain degree will get us a specific job. Or that enough practice will get us a spot on the team. Or that the money we save will grow over the years into the nest egg we hope for. Or that the right clothes or haircut or car or cologne or body type will get us the girlfriend or boyfriend we desire.
Does God fall into that category? Is God one of those things we want to be predictable? If so, we’re going to be disappointed. Today’s First Reading (from the First Book of Kings) and Gospel passage (from Matthew) each show God being somewhere unpredictable, coming to people in ways they didn’t expect.
Elijah encounters God in a tiny whispering sound, and the disciples encounter Jesus walking toward them across rough seas. Neither was within their scope of what was possible. For Elijah --- encountering God in a heavy wind, or earthquake, or fire would have made more sense. But in near silence? That was new. And for the disciples, well, they thought they were seeing things, or maybe seeing some sort of spirit. But their friend? Walking on water? During a storm? That too was new. Completely new. Maybe God isn’t where we imagine him to be?
This sort of “uncertainty” in knowing where to “find” God can be troubling. You see, if we only expect to encounter God on our terms --- for example, only in “religious” activities such as prayer or worship, or only in our happiest moments, or only in people we think are holy or virtuous --- we might come to the distressful conclusion that God is sort of absent, that encounters with God are a rarity, that God is (in a sense) nowhere. And that’s a pretty awful way to have to go through life --- wondering if God cares, wondering if he’s even paying attention, wondering if he’s far away.
But maybe, just maybe it’s all in the “looking”, in the “observing”. Maybe gazing on people and situations with a different lens, with a different set of expectations, will erase some of the unsettling uncertainty that surrounds our faith lives at times.
Maybe it takes expecting God to be where we least expect him to be that will open up an entire new way of experiencing life, a new way of experiencing all the routine, day-to-day ups and downs that come our way.
And this is where the physics analogy breaks down. You see, for the scientist studying electrons, both categories regarding the position of either “everywhere” or “nowhere” start to disappear once they begin trying to make their observation, once they begin taking the proper look. But for people of faith, the “looking”, the “observing” (in the right way) doesn’t make both those terms meaningless. Rather, only one of the terms disappears, one no longer applies. And one comes into focus. You see, when we look at the world through the lens of faith, through eyes of hope and possibility, through eyes waiting for and expecting to be surprised, we will land squarely on one term, come to only one conclusion.
God is everywhere.
Believing that, and more importantly, living in the light of that truth, changes absolutely everything. For when we approach each day, each situation, each person, expecting to encounter God, we will never be disappointed. In fact, we might just be amazed at how present God is. He’s in the whisper and the storm. Our God is predictably unpredictable, and with us always.


