Vatican Shifts Stance on Heretical Astronomer
In a stunning success for science vs. faith, the Vatican is now ready, or willing, to acknowledge that planet Earth does revolve around the Sun, and not as the Church believed 400 years ago. But the news coming out of the Vatican doesn’t exactly put it that way, in fact, no mention is made in any of the recent reports that Galileo Galilei’s observations were accurate, or assumed to be correct, or favored a scientific view that could be easily replicated. Instead, in a recent deliberation at the Vatican, “Science 400 Years After Galileo Galilei,” Vatican scholars came to believe that the astronomer was “one of the faithful.”
This comes after a trial of heresy, a sentence to life imprisonment, then a reduced sentence to house arrest. I am not certain if he was able to keep his telescope. What seems an odd addendum to all this is word that L'Osservatore Romano recently published a story about alien life in the outer universe. All this comes about as Pope Benedict XVI is working toward correcting a perception that he is anti-reason, or more simply put, an opponent of science. Perhaps the alien story was a stretch.
Even so, with all the preparation, excitement and hoopla for Galileo Galilei, some Vatican officials aren’t as forgiving as the Pope.
To help celebrate the 400th anniversary when he pointed his refracting telescope to the Heavens, the United Nations is calling 2009 The Year of Astronomy, with papers and presentations all over the world celebrating the mix of (some) faith and (plenty of )science. Then what happened to the statue of Our Astronomer tentatively planned for the Vatican Gardens? It appears that, according to the Vatican newspaper, “The dramatic clash between Galileo and some men of the Church left wounds that are still
open today.”
Who, pray tell, is still seething? Who, pray tell, is still pouring pride into the “wound”? Just how long will this go on? Regardless of the naysayers, we’re hopeful the statute will go up, and in the Gardens. I do forget the layout of the Vatican Grounds, but perhaps on a sunny day, the soon to be standing statue might be viewed on the same azimuth as the Obelisk in St. Peter’s Square, if one has the courage to make such a climb.
One of the more impressive statues in the Square, this is an Aswan granite guide to the Time of the Day which once graced the Temple of the Sun at Heliopolis, before Emperor Caligula brought it to Rome as booty in 37 C.E., and later was moved by Pope Sixtus and countless slaves to St. Peter’s Square in 1585. Galileo Galilei was about 21 at the time, fourteen years before he set his eye to the Heavens. I’ll have to check if the young Italian was on hand to witness the big move. In the meantime, when you’re visiting Florence again, or for the first time, be sure to stop in the Museum of History and Science to catch up on Galileo’s life and scientific discoveries. Perhaps the Museum has moved a Bible into one of the displays to confirm that the Astronomer read from the Book of Genesis.
Sources: msnbc.com, and “moving the Vatican Obelisk,” from a blogsite “on landscape and architecture.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
Obama Chooses Family Friend for Inaugural Poet
Obama Chooses Family Friend for Inaugural Poet
With much excitement, anticipation, toes crossed and breath held, we all wondered who might be selected as the poet for Barak Obama’s Inauguration. Would it be the new Library of Congress Poet Laureate, Kay Ryan, or her predecessor, Charles Simic? Would Maya Angelou be invited back for a repeat of “On the Pulse in the Morning”? Who has the fortitude to stand before 4-6 million shivering Americans and world guests to listen to the waxing and waning of “an occasional poem,” as they are so terribly named? Who even memorizes poems these days as Robert Frost did on a cold January in 1961? Is there such an American poet who has been vetted of appropriate metaphors and synecdoches for such an auspicious occasion?
Lyndon Baines didn’t even want to waste time with such triviality at his Inauguration. And Ike? Does anyone remember a poet honoring the great General? Well perhaps this is unfair, for who remembers the Benediction at any of the Inaugurals? Okay, can anyone out there (without Goggling) remember a line from any of the Presidential Inaugural speeches, with the exception of “Ask not….”? Lines do seem to fade once the party’s over, don’t they?
So we do have a Presidential Inaugural Poet, and she is Elizabeth Alexander of Yale University who has a remarkably fine list of honors and achievements, and you can find more about her by going to the www.npr.org site
and searching for her interview on Thursday, Dec.18. But I was just wondering, what do you think would be appropriate images or even lines of the Inaugural Poem?
Who could forget Maya Angelou’s?
Here, on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, and into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope --
Good morning.
A favorite image is seeing old man Frost reading from memory his closing lines of such solemnity:
Such as we were we gave ourselves outright
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war)
To the land vaguely realizing westward,
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced,
Such as she was, such as she would become.
Those lines do sound today a bit heavy handed with the piano key-iambic hitting just the right stresses. But heck, it was cold out, and we never got to hear the poem he wished to read, as he didn’t wear sunglasses for the intense snow glare that day. Anyone remember “Dedication”? It’s even more somber, if that’s possible. What is it about “the state of somberness” which gets these Inaugural poets bringing out the chariots, or cheerleaders? Sorry!
Now Miller Williams had it right, when he stepped up to the podium for Bill’s Second Inaugural. The photo of Bill sitting behind Miller who is reading is near priceless for “rapt attention of a poet reading a poem.” Here’s a stinger of Miller’s:
But where are we going to be, and why, and who?
The disenfranchised dead want to know.
Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. Let’s talk about the dead, a favorite for all poets.
And then there was James Dickey of all people, standing up for Jimmy Carter in 1977, choosing not to read a piece written for the occasion, but instead, pulling out a favorite of his, “The Strength of Fields,” with a rip roaring closing line of
My life belongs to the world. I will do what I can.
Now I am getting goose bumps; aren’t you? Okay, enough of this inaugural poetic torture. What would you like to read at the mike? Do you have an inaugural line? A title? Please submit your lines, images, metaphors and synecdoches, and I’ll try my best to cut and paste something that might catch the attention of the Academy of American Poets, for who knows what we might be able to create? We might be making inaugural poetic history here.
Please, though, no “hope springs eternal” lines. We’ve gotten the point on that one. Also, no blubbering. No whining. No chest puffing. Nothing too bellicose. Please, only one personification per poet, please. Think out of the sonnet box. Be grand, but not too grand. Be strong but not too strong. Be fresh, like Ezra Pound (see college modern poetry textbook) insisted. Perhaps a little pedestrian, but some nobility as well, for a Kennedy is bound to be in the audience. No “send forth” instructions. We’ve already done that. Keep it family style, too, as we don’t want any nipples showing that might need to be covered, after all, the meteorologists predict the temps will be in the low 20’s. Finally, and with some reservation as a poet who loves long historical poems, keep it to two pages, please. The public isn’t ready for a modified epic, at least not when teeth are chattering. So here’s your challenge. Send a few lines, titles, noble thoughts, and we’ll try to paste together a hit for the Yes We Can Team.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With much excitement, anticipation, toes crossed and breath held, we all wondered who might be selected as the poet for Barak Obama’s Inauguration. Would it be the new Library of Congress Poet Laureate, Kay Ryan, or her predecessor, Charles Simic? Would Maya Angelou be invited back for a repeat of “On the Pulse in the Morning”? Who has the fortitude to stand before 4-6 million shivering Americans and world guests to listen to the waxing and waning of “an occasional poem,” as they are so terribly named? Who even memorizes poems these days as Robert Frost did on a cold January in 1961? Is there such an American poet who has been vetted of appropriate metaphors and synecdoches for such an auspicious occasion?
Lyndon Baines didn’t even want to waste time with such triviality at his Inauguration. And Ike? Does anyone remember a poet honoring the great General? Well perhaps this is unfair, for who remembers the Benediction at any of the Inaugurals? Okay, can anyone out there (without Goggling) remember a line from any of the Presidential Inaugural speeches, with the exception of “Ask not….”? Lines do seem to fade once the party’s over, don’t they?
So we do have a Presidential Inaugural Poet, and she is Elizabeth Alexander of Yale University who has a remarkably fine list of honors and achievements, and you can find more about her by going to the www.npr.org site
and searching for her interview on Thursday, Dec.18. But I was just wondering, what do you think would be appropriate images or even lines of the Inaugural Poem?
Who could forget Maya Angelou’s?
Here, on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, and into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope --
Good morning.
A favorite image is seeing old man Frost reading from memory his closing lines of such solemnity:
Such as we were we gave ourselves outright
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war)
To the land vaguely realizing westward,
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced,
Such as she was, such as she would become.
Those lines do sound today a bit heavy handed with the piano key-iambic hitting just the right stresses. But heck, it was cold out, and we never got to hear the poem he wished to read, as he didn’t wear sunglasses for the intense snow glare that day. Anyone remember “Dedication”? It’s even more somber, if that’s possible. What is it about “the state of somberness” which gets these Inaugural poets bringing out the chariots, or cheerleaders? Sorry!
Now Miller Williams had it right, when he stepped up to the podium for Bill’s Second Inaugural. The photo of Bill sitting behind Miller who is reading is near priceless for “rapt attention of a poet reading a poem.” Here’s a stinger of Miller’s:
But where are we going to be, and why, and who?
The disenfranchised dead want to know.
Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. Let’s talk about the dead, a favorite for all poets.
And then there was James Dickey of all people, standing up for Jimmy Carter in 1977, choosing not to read a piece written for the occasion, but instead, pulling out a favorite of his, “The Strength of Fields,” with a rip roaring closing line of
My life belongs to the world. I will do what I can.
Now I am getting goose bumps; aren’t you? Okay, enough of this inaugural poetic torture. What would you like to read at the mike? Do you have an inaugural line? A title? Please submit your lines, images, metaphors and synecdoches, and I’ll try my best to cut and paste something that might catch the attention of the Academy of American Poets, for who knows what we might be able to create? We might be making inaugural poetic history here.
Please, though, no “hope springs eternal” lines. We’ve gotten the point on that one. Also, no blubbering. No whining. No chest puffing. Nothing too bellicose. Please, only one personification per poet, please. Think out of the sonnet box. Be grand, but not too grand. Be strong but not too strong. Be fresh, like Ezra Pound (see college modern poetry textbook) insisted. Perhaps a little pedestrian, but some nobility as well, for a Kennedy is bound to be in the audience. No “send forth” instructions. We’ve already done that. Keep it family style, too, as we don’t want any nipples showing that might need to be covered, after all, the meteorologists predict the temps will be in the low 20’s. Finally, and with some reservation as a poet who loves long historical poems, keep it to two pages, please. The public isn’t ready for a modified epic, at least not when teeth are chattering. So here’s your challenge. Send a few lines, titles, noble thoughts, and we’ll try to paste together a hit for the Yes We Can Team.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight Returns
Sir Gawain & The Green Knight Makes the Top 100 Notable Books of the Year
The news is quite astounding, and reflects much on the power of a good poem, written, some say, in the late 14th Century in a dialect few of us can converse in, but imagine the surprise when the newest translation of Sir Gawain and The Green Knight showed up on the New York Times Book Review “100 Notable Books of 2008.”
This calls for much celebration, not only among living poets, but all of us who take an interest in literature that lasts beyond the year of publication.
Let’s all find a copy (for some, look in an old college literature anthology, English Lit Vol. I) of the poem, and set aside time between New Year’s Eve Day, and New Year’s Day to savor some of the mind-tripping Middle English 101 stanzas that aren’t all that long, if you don’t mind a giant who loses his head, and some pretty steamy scenes, and a potential second beheading.
May I suggest we read it to our loved ones over whatever hot drinks when sipping throughout the New Year, but please, try to find a green scarf to help carry all of us back in time to knights, a lady fair indeed, and one very sharp axe that does draw blood.
Go ahead and stimulate the economy by actually buying the new translation by Simon Armitage (Norton, $25.95), but I am sure you can find other editions not quite so pricy if you look around. So as you are all making your trips for Holiday Merriment, be it Christmas or Hanukkah, or Winter Solstice, Saturnalia, or Kawanza, take time to bring in some firewood, find some extra lap warmers, see what kinds of English teas are tucked away in the back of the pantry, and see if there’s even time for baking a batch of scones.
With much anticipation, we begin:
No, I have come to this court for a bit of Christmas fun
fitting for Yuletide and New Years with such a fine crowd.
Who here in this house thinks he has what it takes,
has bold blood and a brash head,
and dares to stand his ground, giving stroke for stroke?
Here! I shall give him this gilded blade as my gift;
this heavy ax shall be his, to handle as he likes.
and I shall stand here bare of armor, and brave the first blow.
If anyone's tough enough to try out my game,
let him come here quickly and claim his weapon!
I give up all rights; he will get it for keeps.
I'll stand like a tree trunk -- he can strike at me once,
if you'll grant me the right to give as good as I get
in play.
But later is soon enough,
a full year and a day.
Get up, if you think you're rough,
let's see what you dare to say!"
(Paul Deane, trans., 1999)
The news is quite astounding, and reflects much on the power of a good poem, written, some say, in the late 14th Century in a dialect few of us can converse in, but imagine the surprise when the newest translation of Sir Gawain and The Green Knight showed up on the New York Times Book Review “100 Notable Books of 2008.”
This calls for much celebration, not only among living poets, but all of us who take an interest in literature that lasts beyond the year of publication.
Let’s all find a copy (for some, look in an old college literature anthology, English Lit Vol. I) of the poem, and set aside time between New Year’s Eve Day, and New Year’s Day to savor some of the mind-tripping Middle English 101 stanzas that aren’t all that long, if you don’t mind a giant who loses his head, and some pretty steamy scenes, and a potential second beheading.
May I suggest we read it to our loved ones over whatever hot drinks when sipping throughout the New Year, but please, try to find a green scarf to help carry all of us back in time to knights, a lady fair indeed, and one very sharp axe that does draw blood.
Go ahead and stimulate the economy by actually buying the new translation by Simon Armitage (Norton, $25.95), but I am sure you can find other editions not quite so pricy if you look around. So as you are all making your trips for Holiday Merriment, be it Christmas or Hanukkah, or Winter Solstice, Saturnalia, or Kawanza, take time to bring in some firewood, find some extra lap warmers, see what kinds of English teas are tucked away in the back of the pantry, and see if there’s even time for baking a batch of scones.
With much anticipation, we begin:
No, I have come to this court for a bit of Christmas fun
fitting for Yuletide and New Years with such a fine crowd.
Who here in this house thinks he has what it takes,
has bold blood and a brash head,
and dares to stand his ground, giving stroke for stroke?
Here! I shall give him this gilded blade as my gift;
this heavy ax shall be his, to handle as he likes.
and I shall stand here bare of armor, and brave the first blow.
If anyone's tough enough to try out my game,
let him come here quickly and claim his weapon!
I give up all rights; he will get it for keeps.
I'll stand like a tree trunk -- he can strike at me once,
if you'll grant me the right to give as good as I get
in play.
But later is soon enough,
a full year and a day.
Get up, if you think you're rough,
let's see what you dare to say!"
(Paul Deane, trans., 1999)
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