The Vatican Observatory, or Specola Vaticana, was born at the direction of Pope Leo XIII, around 1891. It was a time when humanity’s understanding of how the Universe was moving forward, literally by leaps and bounds. The discovery of a supernova, an exploding star, within the bounds of the Andromeda Galaxy, only six years earlier, was proof, beyond measure, that this was a distant galaxy far away in space, and in time.
I like to think there was another, more personal reason for the Catholic church to have an observatory. Until Pope Leo’s decision, Vatican astronomy was known for the single episode of the Galileo affair. That story began innocuously enough with Galileo’s discovery of four moons orbiting Jupiter. In that fateful year of 1610, Galileo instantly became the most famous astronomer in the world. He walked through the papal garden with newly elected Pope Urban VIII, who thoroughly enjoyed talking about the new astronomy with the scientist. And it is said that Urban even encouraged Galileo to publish his Dialogue concerning the two world systems. Urban had never realized, however, precisely what the Dialogue would actually do.
So confident was Galileo in his theoretical argument that he named the character who objected to the new theory, Simplicio, and he did make the character out to be somewhat of a fool. Convinced that Simplicio was a parody of himself, Urban was enraged and so upset that he ordered Galileo summoned before the Inquisition and tried for heresy. In a judgment that still reverberates through history, Galileo was sentenced to life in prison. Only frantic pleas led Urban to revise the sentence; Galileo would spend the remainder of his life under house arrest. Even a young John Milton, preparing his magnum opus Paradise Lost, was forced to visit Galileo surreptitiously.
In this sense, Pope Leo’s founding of an astronomical observatory was a sort of penance. Over the years the institution has accomplished some wonderful science, even building a great telescope atop Mount Graham only a hundred miles or so east of Tucson. The institution has much to be proud of.
In 1992, Pope John Paul II announced, in no uncertain terms, that the Church erred in its original denunciation of Galileo. It seemed the easiest way to handle this difficult situation. It would have been trickier to attempt a second trial; what if Galileo were to be found guilty a second time? John Paul’s approach, simply, directly, and to the point, acknowledged Galileo’s incredible contributions to the world as the father of modern science.
A few years ago, Wendee and I had a weekly radio program called Let’s Talk Stars. (The shows are all still available in streaming audio at www.letstalkstars.com.) The show aired on May 18, 2004, and it featured an interview of Galileo himself. In a delightful performance, Brother Guy Consomaglo, now the director of the Vatican Observatory, played Galileo. As I interviewed him, I found myself retreating back into the sands of time, deeper and deeper into a bygone era where people, not unlike us, gazed upward at the stars and asked wondrous questions about the nature of the world.
I grew up less than a quarter-mile from this beautiful minor basilica conceived by St. Andre Bessette and named Oratoire St. Joseph. I often enjoyed the sky from its grounds and attended some organ recitals there. D. Levy photograph.
