As I have mentioned previously on this blogsite, I am an amateur astronomer. In fact, I love astronomy, and I own several telescopes and a giant set of binoculars. As often as possible, I spend evenings alone or with friends studying the night sky, and I read astronomy books and magazines at every opportunity. I even teach astronomy on an informal basis through my astronomy club, by conducting classroom lectures and public outreaches at a number of different venues, including a local university. Another outreach venue is a regular public event in New Bedford, Massachusetts, which combines art, history (New Bedford has a rich history dating back to the days of the whaling industry), and architecture. The organizers often invite our astronomy club to do ‘sidewalk astronomy’ during these events, setting up our telescopes on a street corner to allow the public to pause a moment and look at the stars.
On one such evening several years ago, an older woman stopped at my telescope for a view of Saturn and its beautiful rings. Saturn’s moon Titan was also visible, and it made for a stunning sight in the telescope eyepiece. After a long turn at the telescope, she stepped aside for those in line behind her, but she didn’t leave. She asked a few questions about Saturn, but then her questions became increasingly complex and wide-ranging, and it was obvious that she was well aware of many recent astronomical discoveries. Since the crowds at these events are sporadic, we eventually had a few minutes for discussion about things we couldn’t see from this light-polluted city sidewalk. Her interests ranged out to other galaxies, supernovae, the extent of the known universe, and eventually, the Big Bang. We had a delightful conversation, and she questioned me in considerable detail about the topics I mentioned to her. After perhaps 20 minutes, she said that it seemed I was quite informed about modern astronomy. I thanked her for the compliment.
Then she stated ‘So you must be an atheist.’
Surprised and off-balance I said, ‘Well, I did go to Mass this morning...’
Then I asked why I ‘must’ be an atheist. She replied that only atheists could be good scientists. Now, I freely admit that I’m NOT a scientist. I’m a retired Marine Corps pilot, but I am scientific to the extent that I had to understand aerodynamics, mechanical systems, and such, but my degree is in philosophy, and my interests are wide. Science has always held a fascination for me and my bookshelves contain works on geology, oceanography, and, of course, astronomy. But they also include tomes on history, geography, philosophy, theology, one encyclopedia, several dictionaries, and forty years of old National Geographic magazines. I have also been a lay member of a Benedictine Abbey for twenty years, and count several monks and a number of other priests outside the Abbey among my closest friends.
High school classmates would probably remember me as a bit of a nerd. I was always as excited to learn Latin as I was physics or biology. I graduated near the top of my class, and went to a small private Catholic college on an academic scholarship. My particular college taught a tough liberal arts curriculum, where math and science were mandatory parts of even a philosophy degree. I loved physics at the college level just as much as I loved studying the ancient classics. The astronomical observatory at our campus introduced me to the wider world of the universe. But I equally enjoyed the many late-night bull sessions with my toughest theology professor, in which we would pepper each other with tough questions about life and religion. In short, I have never felt that intellectual pursuits should be restricted to just one field, and that truth can be sought via many paths.
The Vietnam War pulled me into the Marine Corps, and I spent nearly twenty five years as an aviator and a paratrooper. My family and I had several interesting assignments in Japan, and came to love the cultures of Asia. This was yet another way to gain new knowledge, and that was probably the most enjoyable aspect of my military career.
I have always had a spiritual side to my personality; I have always sought ways to deepen my faith. Commitment to truth would never allow me to study theology in a vacuum, and I have always questioned my beliefs and forced myself to use the same skepticism and quest for answers here that I applied to all of my learning experiences. I can honestly say that my faith and belief in a loving and omnipotent God has never conflicted with my understanding of the physical world around me. I truly believe that the magnificent and mind-boggling things that I have studied or seen through my telescope were created by that self-same God for a specific purpose.
I also believe that God revealed Sacred Scripture for a specific purpose. Galileo once quoted his contemporary, Caesar Cardinal Baronius, as having said ‘The Bible teaches us how to go to heaven, not how the heavens go’. That statement was made early in the Copernican controversy, before Galileo himself made his controversial discoveries. I agree with the Cardinal; my life has been enriched by studying the Bible and Church teachings, yet I seldom quote the Bible to explain astronomical observations. That is not the reason for which the Bible was written. To myself, I quote Psalm 147 ‘He numbers all the stars, and calls each one by name’ but to others, I explain the science of the stars. Albert Einstein once said ‘To know what is impenetrable really exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty…this knowledge, this feeling is at the center of true religiousness.’ He also stated that in all of his studies, he only wanted to ‘know the mind of God.’ That is exactly what I seek. I also know that honest people can explore the same studies and come to different conclusions. Certainly, Einstein did not become a Catholic convert, nor was he a particularly devout Jew. But I believe he did not see any conflict between knowing about the universe and believing in God. Nor do I.
Subscribe