Star Gazers

I happened to watch a PBS show (Nova) on telescopes.  Helping to extend man's "eye" on the world, they literally opened new horizons in human experience and knowledge.  Particularly poignant was what Galileo saw with his primitive telescope.  He discovered imperfections in the moon (a supposedly "perfect" heavenly body).  He also saw, for the first time, that moons rotated around Jupiter, and realized that the earth revolves around the sun in the same way.

In other reading I came across the following:

Our experiences, when really taken seriously, are painful, for they make us discover that we are full of needs, unresolved problems, sorrow, and ignorance.  If these experiences are truly taken seriously, they unequivocally require something else "else," something "beyond"; that is, they possess a genuine religious dimension.

If our experiences are taken seriously they are an authentic prophecy (expectancy, hope) of what we do not yet have.

What we still lack is the meaning of all our experiences.  And we await it, perhaps unconsciously.

If we are truly aware of this expectancy, of our human incapacity and of what our nature relentlessly tells us, then this expectancy is bound to become prayer.  It will become prayer to a mysterious Other who will be able to help and will provide a solution.  It will become a prayer to that God who elicits our question and who will provide the answer.

Thus, prayer is simple petition, entreaty; our most simple, heartfelt, and fundamental act of human awareness.  The most realistic person is the one who prays: that person takes his or her experience seriously.

 The Journey to Truth is an Experience, Luigi Giussani, pp. 57-58.

Galileo's experience caused him awe, wonder, euphoria.  Maybe this experience wasn't initially negative for Galileo, but it certainly was for others, and later for him as well.  You can understand why: Dislodging a settled understanding of the earth's centrality in the solar system (universe) caused uncertainty about man's place in the universe and opposition to truths that seem to contradict our traditions.

The Epiphany is another story of star gazers.  Benedict XVI (in his Epiphany homily) emphasizes the restlessness and courage of these "wise men":

These me who set out towards the unknown were . . . men with a restless heart.  Man driven by a restless quest for God and the salvation of the world.  They were filled with expectation, not satisfied with their secure income and their respectable place in society.  They were looking for something greater. . . . They above all wanted to know what is essential.

They were also, and above all, men of courage . . . [which] was needed to grasp the meaning of the star as a sign to set out, to go forth -- towards the unknown, the uncertain, on paths filled with hidden dangers.  We can imagine that their decision was met with derision:  the scorn of those realists who could only mock the reveries of such men.

Restlessness can impel one to seek what is real, what is essential in life.  Restlessness to raise one's eyes and look about, to embark upon a pilgrimmage, to follow our star.   But to act requires courage to face a prevailing mindset (maybe your own!). 

Restlessness and courage: Galileo had such qualities.  Plus, he was a devout Catholic who tried to avoid confrontations with the powers that be, and regularly prayed for God's guidance and strength.  Can we say the same as we gaze upon a star?