Why the Universe Is Empty Space

Why is the universe mostly empty space?

You will often hear scientists or naturalists state that the universe is mostly empty space. But then a value judgment slips in unnoticed: our new picture of cosmology is that we live in a universe dominated by nothing. The scientist starts with a fact—the mostly empty space of the universe—and then interprets that fact. That interpretation, however, is smuggled in as if it were a scientific fact itself, without argument or evidence.

The argument often goes that if you got rid of us, all the galaxies, and everything we see, the universe would be largely the same. Therefore, we are insignificant on a scale Copernicus never could have imagined. Earth is just a pale blue dot in an ocean of emptiness, and the implication is that this somehow proves the meaninglessness of it all. The underlying assumption is simple: empty space means whatever sits in the middle of it must be meaningless.

Yet when we look at how empty space actually functions across the rest of life, it almost never implies meaninglessness.

The Function of White Space

Empty space is so essential across disciplines that nearly every domain has developed its own vocabulary for it. In music, empty spaces are called rests. In architecture, they are called space and voids. In graphic design, they are called white space or negative space. These are not merely descriptive terms; they are indispensable tools required to practice the aesthetic arts.

So how does empty space function, and what does it mean in these spheres? There are at least four basic functions: emphasis or focus, anticipation, structure or relationship, and rest.

One of the most fascinating aspects of empty space is that its primary use is literally the opposite of the popular “meaninglessness” explanation. In art museums, the primary technique for drawing attention to a piece is surrounding it with generous white space. That distance does not signify insignificance. Rather, the object placed in that sea of emptiness is so meaningful that we deliberately use an abundance of white space around it. Often, the more empty space we use, the more important the central object is.

Similarly, in music, rests are used to shape the relationships between notes and phrases. Silence is empty space. It guides the hearer’s attention, establishes pacing, and can even misdirect expectations for humor.

A Trinitarian Attribute

This aesthetic property of space belongs to a higher-order category: the category of difference. Empty space, white space, or the distance between two things is a fundamental trinitarian attribute.

Now, distance is not traditionally listed among the divine attributes, but it is inherent to trinitarian identity: there is real difference between the Father, the Son, and the Spirit. There is a proper distance or space between them. In design, if two objects are placed too far apart, they bear no apparent relationship; if they are placed too close, they blur together and are confused as one. In a sense, the first great controversies in church history were about understanding the proper distance between the Father and the Son. Too close, and you have confusion and modalistic identity; too far, and they bear no essential relation.

The distance between the divine persons exhibits these exact design properties. First, distance provides focus and emphasis: the identity of each person cannot be understood without the others. A father is not a father without a son, and a son is not a son without a father; the Spirit is the breath and bond of both. Second, distance communicates relationship: the Father is not the Son, yet neither exists without the other, and all three share the identical divine nature. Third, distance contains anticipation: the identity of the Father anticipates the Son, and to name the Son is to anticipate the Father.

God contains space within Himself. He contains distance—not as division, alienation, or separation, but because He is not a monistic, undifferentiated singularity. God is the prime analogate of space and distance. When He created physical space, it was not an alien concept; it was the outward expression of His very being. God first possessed space within Himself, and He then created a world with distance—a proper distance that enables love.

Designing Space in Genesis 1

We see this dynamic clearly in Genesis 1. Creation is largely the work of designing proper spaces between things: space between work and rest, space in time, between day and night, between God and humanity, and between the varied creatures of the world. Once again, creating space denotes the exact opposite of meaninglessness. Distance is the prerequisite for meaning.

Genesis 1 begins with a dark, watery mass devoid of distinctions and space. On day one, space is inserted between day and night. On day two, empty space is placed between the waters below and the waters above, creating the sky. This division is pronounced good: it is fitting that the waters are separated and that vast empty space exists between them, allowing attention to focus on each distinct realm. On day three, dry land emerges from the waters; the waters that were the locus of attention on day two become the background white space for the land, where the primary drama of the story will unfold.

By day six, God establishes the proper distance between Himself and humanity. Man is made in the image of God. Too much distance would reduce human beings to mere beasts and present God as a remote, deistic deity; too little distance would collapse the creator-creature distinction, turning man into God.

The Liturgy of Time and History

Time is structured by white space as well. The creation pattern establishes six days of work followed by one day of rest. But which of these is the white space?

There is a prima facie case for viewing the Sabbath as the white space, but I believe the reverse is true. The Sabbath is not primarily about mere cessation of activity; cessation is simply the preparatory condition. Positively, the Sabbath in the law is marked by convocations and double offerings. Wherever a burnt offering is made, a peace offering accompanies it—and the peace offering is the sacrifice the worshipers actually eat. All the labor of the six days produces the fruit brought forward for that celebratory feast. The six days of work constitute the white space that frames the weekly feast as the central focus of time.

Even history and scriptural revelation reflect this principle. Roughly 99.9 percent of daily events during biblical times went unrecorded. The events preserved in scripture were carefully selected and shaped to serve as the focal point of divine revelation against the background of all that was omitted.

Finally, another manifestation of distance is patience. God is patient. If creation is the opening of ontological space for another, patience is the opening of temporal space for another.

Far from indicating cosmic emptiness and insignificance, empty space is a rich aesthetic, ethical, and ontological tool for structuring and directing meaning.

And that, my friends, is why empty space is art.

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