"...Last year, in an opening address at a conference in Rome, called "Science 400 Years After Galileo Galilei," Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, the secretary of state of the Vatican, praised the church's old antagonist as "a man of faith who saw nature as a book written by God." In May, as part of the International Year of Astronomy, a Jesuit cultural center in Florence conducted "a historical, philosophical and theological re-examination" of the Galileo affair. But in the effort to rehabilitate the church's image, nothing speaks louder than a paper by a Vatican astronomer in, say, The Astrophysical Journal or The Monthly Notices of the Royal Astronomical Society.

On a clear spring night in Arizona, the focus is not on theology but on the long list of mundane tasks that bring a telescope to life. As it tracks the sky, the massive instrument glides on a ring of pressurized oil. Pumps must be activated, gauges checked, computers rebooted. The telescope's electronic sensor, similar to the one in a digital camera, must be cooled with liquid nitrogen to keep the megapixels from fuzzing with quantum noise.

As Dr. Corbally rushes from station to station flicking switches and turning dials, he seems less like a priest or even an astronomer than a maintenance engineer. Finally when everything is ready, starlight scooped up by the six-foot mirror is chopped into electronic bits, which are reconstituted as light on his video screen.

"Much of observing these days is watching monitors and playing with computers," Dr. Corbally says. "People say, 'Oh, that must be so beautiful being out there looking at the sky.' I tell them it's great if you like watching TV."

Dressed in blue jeans and a work shirt, he is not a man who wears his religion on his sleeve. No grace is offered before a quick casserole dinner in the observatory kitchen. In fact, the only sign that the Vatican Advanced Technology Telescope is fundamentally different from the others on Mount Graham, the home of an international astronomical complex operated by the University of Arizona, is a dedication plaque outside the door.

"This new tower for studying the stars has been erected on this peaceful site," it says in Latin. "May whoever searches here night and day the far reaches of space use it joyfully with the help of God." At that point, religion leaves off and science begins.

The Roman Catholic Church's interest in the stars began with purely practical concerns when in the 16th century Pope Gregory XIII called on astronomy to correct for the fact that the Julian calendar had fallen out of sync with the sky. In 1789, the Vatican opened an observatory in the Tower of the Winds, which it later relocated to a hill behind St. Peter's Dome. In the 1930s, church astronomers moved to Castel Gandolfo, the pope's summer residence. As Rome's illumination, the electrical kind, spread to the countryside, the church began looking for a mountaintop in a dark corner of Arizona.

Building on Mount Graham was a struggle. Apaches said the observatory was an affront to the mountain spirits. Environmentalists said it was a menace to a subspecies of red squirrel. There were protests and threats of sabotage. It wasn't until 1995, three years after the edict of Inquisition was lifted against Galileo, that the Vatican's new telescope made its first scientific observations. ... (NYT Science)