Feeling fear and anxiety is one of the signs that we are alive. If we can make a distinction between fear and anxiety, fear is the obvious one: we are clearly aware of possible threats and afraid of them.
Anxiety, on the other hand, is more subtle. It is a kind of constant “fear” existing even unconsciously, lingering in the background, even when we seem happy with our lives. We enjoy ourselves but remain seemingly obsessed with ego-driven desires and consumerism, as we sense how vulnerable our existence truly is.
While countless phobias may be associated with fear and anxiety, perhaps all of them stem from known or unknown factors that could threaten not only our lives but also our experiences. At great heights, we might fall. In narrow spaces, we might be confined forever. We feel fear and anxiety among strangers if they seem unknown and potentially dangerous.
We are so fearful and anxious because we are aware of the truth: our existence in this world is temporary and inherently fragile, like a fleeting glimpse of light in the vast scale of the universe. We are but negligible dust among countless others—yet we are amazingly conscious beings, full of fear and anxiety.
Existential Fear and Anxiety
Perhaps we call this sense or sentiment “existential fear and anxiety.” What are these feelings? They arise from not truly knowing why we are who we are. You know your name. You know many things about yourself. Even Descartes asserted that among all uncertainties, the existence of oneself as a thinking being is undeniable. Yet this does not answer the ultimate question: Who am I? Well, I know I exist because I know I am thinking.
But it is equally true that you do not truly know who you are or why you are precisely who you are in this world, at this particular place and time. You could have been someone else, in a different place, in a different time. Among all the possibilities and probabilities, why are you who you are? And in the same way, why am I who I am? Why are we who we are?
The Fear of Mortality
This existential inquiry inevitably leads to another dimension of fear and anxiety: the knowledge that someday, sometime, we will cease to be ourselves. We will die. We will leave this world and this universe we briefly inhabited, however fleetingly, in the blink of an eye. What is the meaning of all this?
These fears and anxieties stem from our realization that we are temporary beings. At the same time, we feel disconnected from something beyond this temporary existence—we feel disconnected from and not yet belonging to what we might call eternity.
Stories of Eternity
That is why, throughout human history, we have crafted various “stories” to understand how and why we could or should connect to something beyond our temporary existence. Within these stories, we might glimpse answers to why we are who we are, in this world, at this particular place and time.
Yet, as long as we continue to seek these answers within this world, we will never find them. The answers are, by their very nature, beyond our comprehension. As long as we are who we are, we cannot grasp the true reasons why we are as we are.
Perhaps once we leave this world—at the moment we are no longer who we are—we will finally understand the answers. Yet by then, those answers may no longer be meaningful or necessary, as we will have transcended all worldly concerns. Or perhaps we knew the answers before we were born, but again, they were meaningless to us, as we were not yet who we would become.
The Hope of Christmas
In this Christmas season, one story offers us a glimpse of hope and joy, as though a veil is lifted to reveal part of the answer. It suggests that we are not arbitrary beings. We are not merely fleeting, temporary existences doomed to vanish without reason. We are not just dust.
Can we feel that we are not arbitrary, but loved—not only by those around us but also by the One who exists in eternity?
The Paradox of the Universe
Here lies the paradox: in our imagination and consciousness, we can contemplate the vastness of the universe, far beyond our comprehension. This power of imagination amazes us, yet it also humbles us, reminding us of how tiny we are. It is stunningly impossible to count all the dust in the universe—far harder than counting each grain of sand in the desert. And yet, this negligible dust holds within it the extraordinary power of imagination, capable of encompassing the entire universe. At the quantum scale, we glimpse the entirety of the cosmos. The quantum is “entangled” with the very ages and edges of the universe. Isn’t that fascinating?
The Christmas story reflects this paradox. The universe is not only aware of the dust—it loves it. So much so that the eternal and infinite chose to become the finite and fragile, uniting the vastness of the universe with the smallest grain of sand. Indeed, there is a universe in every grain of sand. This grain of sand is extraordinary, as though quantum entanglement had occurred between the macrocosm and the microcosm.
For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. —John 3:16
The Light of Eternity
At this moment, we understand who we are. If you can contemplate this, you may realize that you are not arbitrary dust. Instead, you are both a part of and the whole of the universe, as God became man out of love. This season invites us to appreciate this profound love, where temporality meets eternity.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. —John 1:5
And this begotten Son tells us that eternity (the kingdom of heaven) is at hand, within temporality.
The kingdom of heaven is at hand. —Matthew 3:2
Image by Monika
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