As I’ve stated elsewhere, I’m neither a scientist nor a theology scholar.  I do, however, have my feet solidly in both camps as a serious student of both astronomy and Catholic Christian theology.  This often leads to a precarious balancing act, especially when in full view of the prevailing academic atheism that has been so popular in our institutions of higher learning for the past several generations.  So to echo Pilate’s rather indelicate question, just what is truth?  Does one side or the other have an exclusive claim to truth?  Does a person of faith today have to travel incognito with regard to his religious beliefs or be prepared to take one on the chin by his irreligious peers?

Science or Faith?

At the very end of the August 2009 issue of Sky & Telescope in the “Focal Point” editorial article (page 86), a trio of astronomers from the University of Texas at Austin collectively penned an opinion piece titled, “Keeping Science Safe.”  These authors use such charged terms as “insidious” to describe the efforts of so-called “Intelligent Design” proponents, and referred to their worldview as “antiquated” and “antiscientific.”  To these astronomers and their “worldview”, one must flash their skeptic’s credentials at the door before being admitted to the halls of “true science.”  The irony here is that while accusing the opposing camp of running an agenda, their own pre-conceptions are laid bare.  To wit, there is no room in modern academia for faith in a Creator.

Such a notion runs face-on into the historical record of such luminaries in the field of astronomy such as Copernicus, Galileo, Brahe, Kepler, Newton, et al.  Go beyond astronomy into other fields, and you’ll find a small army of equally notable names; all whose contribution to science is undisputed, and all of whom expressed a religious faith.  One need not argue too vehemently that the scientific method itself owes a great deal of its foundations to men whose consciences were formed by fervent faith in God.

Who owns the deed on truth?

Certainly if you approach many of today’s scientists and scholars, they will boldly assert that the methodology and modes of science are squarely in the territory of the learned skeptic.  Many of those in the scientific community who do have a latent belief in the supernatural are encouraged to keep it buried, if for no other reason than job security.  If you happen to be so brazen as to suggest equal time or fair treatment to the “keepers of the truth”, you’ll be broadly painted with the pejoratives (and worse) such as used in the S&T article referenced above.

There should be more than ample territory for both science and theology.  When you get down to it, there isn’t (or at least shouldn’t be) scientific truth over there, theological truth over here, and never the twain shall meet.  Truth is truth. The two camps have slightly different aims and purposes, and while faith can’t answer the very pointed scientific questions, it’s equally true to say that science cannot address the broader questions of existence (why are we here, what is our purpose, etc.?)  Like faith and reason, science and theology almost need one another to compliment and complete one another.

Who’s Side Are You On?

Brother Guy Consolmango, author of best-selling astronomy volume titled “Turn Left At Orion” and himself a man of both science and faith, made a statement in a video I recently viewed.  He said, “Science does not seek to prove anything. Science only observes.”  Assuming for the sake of argument this statement is accurate, then it seems to me that a great number of assertions are made by the scientific community that do not fit this criteria.  Among these are evolutionary mechanics; while I don’t whole-heartedly embrace the “irreducible complexity” model, there is merit to some of their protests—namely, how can evolutionary processes (which many state take hundreds or even thousands of generations to take place) adequately address the environmental requirements of species before they die off waiting for those changes to take place?

Now geneticists are quick to chime in on how much DNA we have in common with primates, and how this “proves” Darwinian-flavored evolution.  What often gets left out is that we also share a great deal of DNA with certain flora as well…neither of which is prima facie evidence that I am a monkey’s uncle or a distant relative of the rutabaga.

My point is, there’s enough wiggle room on the scientific side of the scales for honest inquiries (and yes, even protests) from folks who have alternative theories (many of which fit the observations of the established sciences better than the accepted models.)  No one is suggesting that we shoe-horn flat-earthers into the classrooms in the interest of equal time.  What is being put forth is the notion that, in the absence of irrefutable empirical evidence, other theories (even opposing theories) be allowed to be aired for consideration without a prejudiced rush to label opponents as “antiscientific” or “antiquated.”

On the night of September 2-3, 2009, a remarkable celestial event will take place. From 4:43 to 6:29 Universal Time on the 3rd (which is 12:43 to 2:29 a.m. EDT on the 3rd, or 9:43 to 11:29 p.m PDT on the 2nd), a casual look at Jupiter through a telescope will show no moons at all. It’s quite common for one of the four Galilean moons be hidden, and it’s not rare to see only two moons. But only a few times in a century do all four moons hide simultaneously behind or in front of Jupiter.

As the diagram shows, Callisto and Io will be either behind Jupiter or eclipsed by Jupiter’s shadow, rendering them completely invisible to any telescope. But Europe and Ganymede will be in front of the planet, where their disks should (at least in theory) be visible at high magnification if the atmosphere is very steady. And for most of that time, one or both of the moons’ shadows will also fall on Jupiter. The moons themselves are hard to see because they’re similar in color and brightness to Jupiter. But the shadows are pitch black, so they stand out relatively well.

To enjoy the event to the fullest, you should try to watch the moons’ disappearances and reappearances. Most of the 11-hour sequence should be visible from the American East Coast, and much of it is visible across all of the Americas and in Europe.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009
23:28 UT, Callisto enters occultation behind Jupiter.

Thursday, September 3, 2009
03:44 UT, Io enters occultation behind Jupiter.
04:00 UT, Europa begins transit of Jupiter.
04:46 UT, Ganymede begins transit of Jupiter.
04:56 UT, Europa’s shadow begins to cross Jupiter.
06:32 UT, Io exits eclipse by Jupiter’s shadow.
06:46 UT, Ganymede’s shadow begins to cross Jupiter.
06:50 UT, Europa ends transit of Jupiter.
07:50 UT, Europa’s shadow leaves Jupiter’s disk.
08:24 UT, Ganymede ends transit of Jupiter.
08:44 UT, Callisto exits eclipse by Jupiter’s shadow.
10:24 UT, Ganymede’s shadow leaves Jupiter’s disk.

With 2009 being the International Astronomical Union’s “International Year of the Telescope” (commemorating the 400th anniversary of Galileo Galilei’s first attempts at turning the newly discovered telescope toward the heavens), the astronomy community has been all abuzz over various products and projects that bear the official “stamp” of the event.  One of these products is the FirstScope, produced and distributed by Celestron.   When it originally rolled out, it was priced at a modest $50 or thereabouts.  Not horrible as telescopes go, but enough to keep budget-minded fence-sitters like me at bay.

Then, the e-mail arrived.

Amazon issued a $15 off promotional on the scope that had already been knocked down to below the $45 price tag.  With this incentive, it brought the price down to below $30.  You can’t dangle a carrot in front of a guy like me and not expect me to take a bite out of it!  It probably took all of five minutes from the time the e-mail hit my inbox to the time I pressed the “Order Now” button and sealed my (very affordable) fate.  To sweeten the deal, Amazon even ate the shipping charges, so it was a win-win situation!

The following Wednesday, the UPS courier dropped off the smallish box at my door.  The box containing the scope itself was well-packed, colorful and emblazoned with the IYA 2009 logo, as well as various space-related photos.  It came with a couple of glossy fact sheets about the telescope and Galileo, and is clearly intended to be an educational instrument.  I lifted the pre-assembled scope from the box and set it on my table.  The FirstScope is a Newtonian design reflector with a 76mm (around 3″) mirror.  The focal length is 300mm, giving an super-fast f/3.95 (okay, call it an f/4) ratio.

The base and mount is constructed from 1/2″ laminated pressboard, covered in a white veneer. The mount “floats” on three Teflon pads between it and the base, and provides a smooth turn in the azimuth plane. The scope is attached to the upright portion of the mount by a rather substantial knurled hand-bolt which can be tightened/loosened to adjust the altitude.

The OTA itself appears to be similar in weight and consistency to sonotube, and is colored black with imprinted silver-white names of famous astronomers down through the ages. The focuser was a pleasant surprise: I was expecting a drawtube or inexpensive helical twist focus, but the FirstScope actually sports a fairly smooth rack-and-pinion 1.25″ focuser. It didn’t have that “gummy” feel that many cheap focusers have, and I didn’t notice much in terms of backlash or shifting.  It seemed to have plenty of travel and back-focus, and would likely play nice with a quality Barlow.  Both the focuser and OTA have thick plastic covers to keep the dust and bugs out of the tube when it’s not being used.

The two included eye-pieces are so-so quality. The 20mm Huygens actually isn’t bad; center was right on target and only slight “fuzzy” focus toward the extreme edge of the FOV. I can’t be as optimistic about the 4mm “SR” (probably means “Stubby Ramsden”) EP. You’d almost be better off staring through a pinhole. It might be okay for observing the moon, but it’s going to have such short eye relief, it’ll probably get all gummed up with oil from eyelashes in short order, so this will likely see the bottom of my parts box or as a “plug” for 1.25″ gadgets. I’ve got a nice Teleview 6mm Plossl that will work much better in it.

While I didn’t run the mirror through a rigorous collimation, it seemed close enough out of the box, and even a rudimentary “star test” indicated it was in the ballpark.  The real proof of the scope is in the seeing, so I turned it toward Jupiter, which has been holding court to the South at this time of year.  The provided 20mm actually resolved it nicely at 15x, although it was quite small as was expected.  Not wanting to push my luck, I dropped a Meade 9.7mm Plossl in and took another peek.  While it didn’t provide a Hubble-like experience, it did improve the image considerably, and at roughly 31x, was enough to see two pinkish-red bands in the northern hemisphere, along with its pinpoint major satellites.  Where the little scope really shined was with a 26mm Plossl dropped into place.  The magnification was slightly less than 12x (around the same as a decent pair of binoculars), but it gave a gorgeous 4.33° field of view!  It easily framed the Perseus Double-Cluster, and provided a quality view that easily surpassed the $30 price tag of this scope!

As an educational tool and first instrument for young enthusiasts, it’d be hard to go wrong with this one. It’s rugged enough to withstand reasonable wear and tear while providing a decent view of the brighter night-time objects for those just learning their way around the cosmos. As a spare or as a possible gift for a curious new astronomer, this is a nice little introductory instrument.

Even if it is a Celestron.*

* My two Meades made me say that!

I’ve seen it happen time and time again.  A neophyte would-be astronomer comes asking one of the very first questions a newbie always asks when in the company of more learned folk.  “How do I select a new telescope?”  And it seems as though as sure as night follows day the majority will rise up chanting the near-universal mantra, “Aperture is king!  Buy the biggest thing you can afford!”  And more often than not, what they mean by this is, “Get a Dobsonian reflector!  Dobs rule!  I wouldn’t let my ugliest, smelliest dog sit on anything less than a 8-inch Dob!”

“I remind myself that the likes of Galileo, Newton, or Messier didn’t have even an 8″ Dob to accomplish the deeds for which they are so highly regarded and fondly remembered these centuries hence”

Galileo must have left his 12" Dob at home...

There’s some merit to this, to be perfectly honest.  In truth, the Dob is about the least expensive option per inch of aperture to be found.  You don’t have to monkey with temperamental mounts like the perennial German Equatorial Mount (or GEM), you’re not dead in the water when your GoTo goes flakey or your batteries die, and you do get quite a lot of light gathering relative to the monetary investment.  These are the upsides to the Dob that I willingly accede to.

However, what these devotees to the almighty lawn cannon often don’t take into account are other criteria for selecting an astronomical instrument, particularly with the new student in mind.  I’ll use my own experience as an example.  When I first was seriously bitten by the astronomy bug, my friend and mentor Jim didn’t recommend a telescope right up front.  For the first six months or so, I didn’t so much as even look through an eyepiece. Instead, I learned the night skies with my unassisted eyes, and every once in a while would augment them with a cheap drugstore pair of 7×35 binoculars I got as a Christmas gift as a kid.  When I finally did look through a telescope, it wasn’t some grandiose light bucket.  Instead, it was through a home-brew refractor.

The objective was an oddball…around 90mm edge to edge, with a little “clam-shell” divot about the size of my pinky fingernail on the crown side.  We blacked out the defect, mounted it in a 4″ blue sonotube with a cannibalized rack-and-pinion .965 focuser on the business end.  We did what we could to help it along. We coated the inside of the tube with flat black spray paint, I got my hands on a converter diagonal to go from the smaller .965″ to 1.25″, and made a light/dew shield out of a modified coffee can (spray painted inside and out to match the rest of the scope.)

The mount was even more humble, if you can imagine it.  It sat on a square plywood base with a threaded metal plumbing socket screwed into the center.  A collection of short metal tubes and elbows created a slingshot-shaped “Y” mount, and two 1/4″ carriage bolts with washers out the wazoo attached the OTA to the slingshot.  Two over-sized wingnuts controlled the tension on the altitude plane.  On the bottom of the square mount base were screwed-and-glued three small blocks of wood with holes drilled in the centers.  They were spaced about 120° equidistant to each other.  Bolted to each of these blocks was a leg crafted out of discarded wooden crutches!  That’s right, crutches!  The span that formed the upper part that normally would go under your arm was removed, as were the “handles” in the middles, and then they were squeezed together at the top and bolted through the blocks.  About midway down the length of each leg was an eye-bolt that was screwed into the thickest part of the leg; these would accept a thin metal chain spreader to keep the legs from flying akimbo unexpectedly.   All tolled, it cost about $20 at the local hardware store and an afternoon of labor to put it all together.  After thinking long and hard on a suitable name for the poor thing, we hit upon “Hobble” as being singularly appropriate considering it’s appearance and construction.  It was among the most hideous grotesqueries to ever grace the star party circuit.

And I wish I had it today! It may have been uglier than an inbred coon-dog, but that little sucker could really see the skies!

I’ve since then experienced many such “humble” instruments.  Some of them are refugees from weekend yard sales and church bazaars.  They’re usually pretty scuffed up, some have parts missing or are in some state of outright disrepair.  Almost without exception, none of them has been so far gone that they haven’t benefited from a little time and TLC.  And once they’ve had a fresh coat of paint and some adaptation to make them a little more usable, they all found homes with very grateful new owners.  You couldn’t convince one of these people, whether they were 9 or 79, that you hadn’t just handed them the keys to Palomar.  Some were shocked, others laughed nervously and yet others shed tears of gratitude, but not one of them complained that it wasn’t big enough to see anything with!

And this is precisely my point!  Some times we’re so eager to help newbies spend their money the “right” way, that we may have forgotten (or perhaps, some never actually experienced) what it’s like to view the cosmos through a humble little scope.  I stand among the fringe of others who didn’t have the benefit of the enormous optics often scattered afield like massive dandelions at large star parties.  I remind myself that the likes of Messrs.  Galileo, Newton, or Messier didn’t have even an 8″ Dob to accomplish the deeds for which they are so highly regarded and fondly remembered these centuries hence.

At some point, I’ll post my take on the criteria I use for advising new would-be observers on which instrument suits them the best.  Suffice it now to say, I don’t always subscribe to the “Aperture is king” party line.  My battle-cry is more along the lines of, “Get the scope that will most adequately perform the purposes for which you got it.”  Certainly, aperture should be one of those criteria.  But we can’t overlook other, equally important topics such as portability, functionality, ease-of-use, and of course the all-important “fun factor.”  If you haven’t learned yet how to actually have fun with a 60mm or 80mm refractor, or 4.5″ “newt”, then perhaps you’ve deprived yourself from one of the real joys in this hobby.  Seeing the skies the way some of the “giants” in the last 400 years have seen them.  Now THAT’S fun!

First off, I’m not a professional anything. I’m not a scientist. Nor am I a theologian. I have great respect for both science and theology, and consider myself a student of both. But I don’t have a vocational vested interest in one position or the other.

So when you see me opining on various issues, whether cosmological or epistemological, they stem from a student’s efforts to seek out the truth.  Theologically, I believe that “truth”, objectively-speaking, finds its zenith in a Person; the same who claimed without hint of hubris that he was “the way, the truth and the life.”  This is my starting point, my zero-reference, the canon against which all else must be measured.

But issuing from that source and font of ultimate truth, there are “lesser” truths (lesser in the sense of subordination, not in that they are anything less than completely truthful.)  And here is where science comes in.  Empirical, observable, repeatable science.  Again, I am no scientist.  I may not be fully versed in all the vernacular, or the latest doctoral theses…the truth is, I barely passed high school chemistry (and just how I managed it is one of life’s great mysteries these many years later!)  I have great regard for those who practice science, and a great deal of suspicion for those who use it to further their own fame, ideology, or agenda.  Whether it’s because of my non-scientific background, or in spite of it, I tend to be a “hard-sell” for many of the theories that get handed off as fact (evolution chief among them.)

Now, before you write me off as a crack-pot, let me clarify what I mean.  I see some evolutionary mechanics at play, particularly within a species or genus.  I am not certain about much of what has been passed on from Charles Darwin on down for the past nearly two centuries; namely, that one species (given enough time and proper environmental motivation) will so fully spontaneously adapt so as to completely metamorph into an entire new and distinct species.  Nor am I at all sure about the rather new and novel teaching that life on this planet simply “poofed” into being whole-cloth from some primordial chemical soup.  I’ll have more to say about both of these in other articles in the future, but this is much of what I’m referring to when I claim to be a hard-sell.  Something about these theories just don’t pass the sniff test with me.

So much of what I post here as opinion pieces, especially where they touch on both matters of faith and reason, will be my (often-times feeble) attempts to grapple with reconciling the two within my own mind to my satisfaction.  I’m not entirely sure anyone else will find these thoughts to be of any value in the weeks and months ahead, but I put them out there in case there are other students…seekers…of truth.

The articles here will represent my particular view on things.  I don’t claim to be unique.  I certainly don’t claim to be incredibly smart or gifted.  I won’t even claim to be right about certain things.  Most of what will be found here will be “thoughts in process” or perhaps slightly more advanced ruminations.  I’ll try to be “fair and balanced”, but I’ll never claim to be unbiased (and never trust anyone who says they are!)  While I have no problem with differing opinions, I can and will wield editorial control over the content here (meaning I will edit or delete comments at my discretion.)

For those unfamiliar with the term, a “faint fuzzy” is a euphemism used by some in the astronomy community to refer to Deep Sky Objects (or DSO’s).  These objects (and there are a lot of them) often appear as dim smudges in a small telescope.  I thought the name was appropriate because I often feel as I’m trying to frame a position on a topic, it’s as unfocused and indistinct as some of these far away celestial doo-dads.  Sooner or later, I hope to articulate some of these faint and fuzzy concepts into something more tangible. Just bear with me.

Speaking of bearing with me, I’m somewhat new to this whole blog thing as well.  I manage a couple of online game-related blogs which use the WordPress “engine”, so it’s somewhat familiar.  But it’ll take me a while to figure out all the in’s-and-out’s, gadgets, widgets, and deely-bobs I have at my disposal.  So this is very much under construction for now.

Let me know what you think.