I had this piece in The Tablet last week, on the discovery of the Higgs boson...

It began with a walk in the Cairngorms almost 50 years ago. The physicist Peter Higgs had an idea about the origins of mass in the universe. The Higgs boson was born in the human mind. And now, after spending billions of dollars – as well as all the creative energy that cash represents – scientists at Cern (otherwise known as the European Organisation for Nuclear Research) have discovered the subatomic particle. Or at least, they have seen the signature for something close to what they expect the Higgs to be.

It has been called the “God particle” because the Higgs plugs a crucial gap in what physicists refer to as the Standard Model. That has been successful at describing the behaviour of matter, energy and forces. Yet the discovery of the Higgs does not mean that physics is now over. Far from it. In the 50 years since Peter Higgs’ brainwave, cosmologists have discovered that the majority of the universe is made of stuff most probably unknown to science, the so-called dark mass and dark energy. The Standard Model will not be standard science for future generations.

Given those qualifications, it is striking that the Higgs has generated so much hype. This is partly because Cern, the organisation responsible for the Large Hadron Collider tests which discovered the particle, needs to justify the spend. So teams of spin doctors ensured the experiment produced regular headlines. But that only raises a further question: why are we so gripped by the weirdness of the subatomic world? Physics powerfully resonates with the notion of cosmic design. Physicists look for theories that can be described using mathematics. When tested, these theories reveal the hidden nature of reality. The mathematical and hidden element readily fires the theological imagination. As the philosopher Gottfried Leibniz put it: “When God calculates and thinks things through, the world is made”.

It is as if science and religion are part of the same enterprise: revealing the ways of God. “Science appears as a collective effort of the Human Mind to reach the Mind of God,” writes the physicist and priest Michael Heller. “The Mind of Man and the Mind of God are strangely interwoven.”

It is a powerful intuition explored in a famous essay by the Nobel laureate for physics, Eugene Wigner. His title says it all: “The Unreasonable Effectiveness of Mathematics in the Natural Sciences”. Wigner describes the descriptive and predictive power of mathematics as a “miracle”. He continues: “It is hard to believe that our reasoning power was brought, by Darwin’s process of natural selection, to the perfection which it seems to possess.”

It is not so hard to believe if you believe that human beings are made in the image of God. The trumpeting of the discovery of the God particle flirts with the thrilling thought that we have taken one step closer to divinity. As the essayist Annie Dillard has written: “What is the difference between a cathedral and a physics lab? Are they not both saying: ‘Hello’?”

But it is easy for the theological imagination to become overexcited by science. For one thing, it seems likely that life can only emerge in a universe in which matter and energy are patterned and constrained. It is this patterning that gives mathematics a grip on nature. A life-bearing cosmos would inevitably be a mathematics-friendly cosmos. Alternatively, you can ask what kind of God is revealed by the unreasonable effectiveness of mathematics. William Blake reflected on the deistic divinity implied by such an understanding of the cosmos and found it “soul-shuddering”. His“dark satanic mills” are the impersonal, cold machines that “grind out material reality”, much as the indifferent Higgs boson is said to generate mass. A tyrannical God would fix life according to laws of nature, Blake continued. A world of such determined domains of space and time would be a prison. Further, the scientist or theologian who overplays humankind’s capacity to understand the cosmos risks idolatry. “He who sees the Ratio only,” Blake mocked, “sees himself only.”

More generally, you could say that contemporary physics so captures our imagination because it is the way many now do metaphysics. As the scholastic theologians of the medieval period gazed towards heaven seeking the divine, so we gaze into the heavens seeking replies to our great questions. Both activities promise to reveal the nature of reality and so something of our own nature.

Only perhaps we need to learn not to be so concrete, so literal. If it is a mechanism you seek, then the God particle will thrill you. If it is life, then clues must be sought somewhere else.