If there were to be one thing that could make me believe in God or a higher power of some sort, or to at least inspire some intense spiritual thought, it would be an unadulterated, uninhibited view of the night sky. When I see a great view of the stars, I am inspired to ponder life more intensely. The night sky faces us with a testament to our own smallness and insignificance.

While our essential cosmic meaninglessness is almost incomprehensible, when I see the spackles of stars above me, I feel one step closer to understanding our place in the universe. Only in this manner can I attempt to grasp that we are just a grain of sand among millions of stars in an arm of a small galaxy among literally billions of galaxies in an eternal void.

Seeing the Milky Way is simply one of the most awe-inspiring things I have ever seen. I feel neglected because I can only see it once a year (maybe) on an odd trip to the Boundary Waters, free from polluting lights.

What I find ironic, then, is that Gustavus’ temple to religion completely blocks out what could be a great view of the night sky, with an enormous shaft of light pointing directly upwards, rendering the stars invisible. I’ve seen some almost fantastic views of space from the far reaches of the Arboretum at night. But getting closer to campus, the Chapel spire (meant to be a beacon to spirituality) keeps me grounded in the earthly realm by not allowing me to see anything beyond the foggy mist and bats that circle the spire at night.

In my perception, religion as a generality is something that should keep you aware of your finititude and mortality, putting you in touch with (or making you think about) the incomprehensible mystery of life. It should be something to remind you of your limited perceptions and insignificance, but also to ease you in moments of existential angst. What better to remove us from our big-headedness and remind of our smallness than to see the stars? What else is going to put us in our place?

Our technology, our media and the general order of our lives and society do a good job of causing us to forget to consider the true nature of life as we scurry along doing earthly (and meaningless?) tasks. Our total command over our environment makes us gain a hubris that has pervaded society and humankind. We tell our computers what to do and they do it. We drive our cars where we want, and if we can’t get our car around a mountain, we can blow a tunnel right through it and keep driving. We think we are in complete control. But wait, we could be snuffed out in four seconds flat, like the dinosaurs, with a massive rock from space. We have no control.

Obviously the structure of our lives can’t be changed easily. But it is far too easy to become wrapped up in incidents and activities. The hustle of college life and civilized life in general grounds us to a point where we consider Earth the limits of all existence and to not consider anything beyond the bubble in which we live. This can be destructive, for not only will we consider Earth as the limits of existence, but by transitive property, will consider our own lives and selves as all that exists, leading to a lack of empathy for other human beings.

What if the Chapel spire were turned off one night a month, on a night with the waning moon, so we could truly get a good view of the night sky? I feel this could spark some true spiritual examination among somebody other than me.

Or at least freak a few cityfolk out with the universe staring them in the face.

Legal issues aside (perhaps the increased spirituality campus-wide could empower a group prayer to prevent a plane from crashing into the spire) I think this is something the campus should consider. Obviously some campus lights would have to remain, but the spire is the main offender.

Even if you don’t buy into the religious hokey-pokey jabber featured here, you can admit that stars look cool at the very least. And think of how eerie campus could feel with the spire off! Halloween, anyone? I think this is exciting on many levels. The next step is to find out what campus department manages the lights … well, back to the computer and e-mail for me.