February 11, 2020 marked the passing of Father George Coyne, S.J., the longest-serving director of the Vatican Observatory.
Father Coyne was one of the few appointments made in the few weeks of John Paul I’s pontificate, after an unexpected death at the Observatory and before the pope’s own shocking passing. Saint John Paul II’s letter to Coyne on the 300th anniversary of Newton’s Principia is among the most nuanced church documents ever written on the relationship between faith and science. I use it frequently in my courses in Chicago and Rome.
I am blessed to call Paul Mueller, S.J. my friend. He is the current Jesuit Superior of the Vatican Observatory religious community, and so splits time between the Observatory’s research-oriented apostolates in Castel Gandolfo, Italy, and Mount Graham, outside of Tucson, where they have a longstanding relationship with the University of Arizona.
In his position, he is consistently asked one question above all others: “Why does the Vatican have an astronomical observatory?”
I have many times heard his good-humored response: “Because we cannot afford a particle accelerator!”
He then, of course, patiently explains that since God is the font of all truth, revelation and natural human discoveries — including those of the physical, biological, and social sciences — are not only compatible, but help us to holistically understand more and more of the mysteries of reality, albeit in different spheres of knowing and through different methodologies.
I reached out to him to ask about Father Coyne’s influence on the dialogue between scientific inquiry and religious faith, and on him personally.
“I was privileged to serve as George’s religious superior during his final three years with the Observatory, before he moved to LeMoyne College,” he told me. “Since George’s death, in Italy we’ve been flooded with calls and messages from Italian astronomers, many in tears, asking when and how they can participate in a memorial event for George. I think that George’s personal warmth and ever-curious personal interest in others, combined with his leadership role, much-noted in Italy, in helping guide the church to think about and re-evaluate its relationships to Galileo and Darwin, won him a place in the heart of the Italian educated public and especially in the heart of Italian scientists.”
He went on to allude to the conversation that Father Coyne had with the comedian Bill Maher in the movie “Religulous.” Many people of faith noticed that Father Coyne was one of the few people with whom Maher was able to have an adult and sophisticated conversation about these matters and the dangers of fundamentalism, and not be mocked so as to look hypocritical or foolish in the film’s final edits. The section is worth watching online.
“That’s a big part of George’s legacy,” according to Father Mueller. “Mature well-informed thoughtful honest heart-felt engagement on questions of science and faith, at an adult level, upholding the faith but not speaking from a defensive crouch — all done with respect, civility, and smarts.”
Though he reportedly once dreamt of and even formally explored being an astronaut, Father Coyne perhaps provided an even more important service here on earth: inspiring humanity to ponder reality in wonder, rigor and awe; and to serve as what Jewish theologian Abraham Heschel once described as our greatest and most unique calling — to be a cantor of the universe, singing divine glories to all of creation.
Originally from Collingswood, Michael M. Canaris, Ph.D., teaches at Loyola University, Chicago.
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