My sources in the Vatican tell me that, after his encounter with the angelic Corrs, the Pope is looking heavenwards with renewed fervour. Apparently he has ordered his astronomers to peer into the universe and search the skies for evidence of God. That's probably the hardest homework he has set them yet. And so the Papal stargazers are out with the telescopes every night, forbidden to sleep during the hours of darkness and not at all sure what they're looking for. So far, they have discovered nothing of consequence apart from a record by the Corrs which somehow made it into orbit over Dundalk.
It always struck me as odd to see the Vatican Observatory sprouting from a Roman hillside like a puffball mushroom. After all, there was a time when the church didn't particularly welcome discoveries of a cosmic nature. Those frantic astronomers currently checking the skies will no doubt be familiar with the name Galileo Galilei and not, I would imagine, from drunken renditions of Bohemian Rhapsody either. They will know him as a man with a telescope who happened to see far too much. The telescope itself was probably invented in 1600 by a Dutch maker of spectacles called Hans Lippershey. Soon his early instruments were available all over Europe and were known by the somehow worrying name of "Dutch trunks". In Padua University, Galileo, the Professor of Mathematics, built his own instrument and decided to point it at the sky. He published his discoveries in The Starry Messenger and the Pope declared him a brainbox and a party was thrown in his honour. His next publication, Dialogue On The Two World Systems, was not so well received, however, and Galileo was hauled before the Inquisition and forced to publicly renounce his discoveries.
Above all, he had to "abandon the false opinion that the Sun is the centre of the World and immovable and that the Earth is not the centre of the World and moves . . ." The church apologised to Galileo recently - so that's alright then.
At school I couldn't work out why Copernicus ("Copperknickers" as we inevitably called him) got away with saying the same thing before Galileo. But then theory and speculation is one thing - being able to prove it empirically is another matter. So, given the history, these Papal planet watchers must be worried. What if they see something that, rather than proving the Catechism they read at school was spot on, suggests we have all been seriously mistaken? What if some astronomical Cardinal looks through the lens and someone waves back? What if there is a planet out there full of non-practising Catholics ? What if the leader of one planet is spotted taking communion on some other planet? Would you want to be the one to tell the Pope - and him sound asleep?
And what happens then? Will there be young men and women heading off on the Missions to the Delta Quadrant to convert the alien? Will Papal Nuncios be sent into the next solar system and will the Pope take himself off on a grand time-warp speed tour of the galaxy in a NASA-built Popemobile? I can just imagine him kissing the ground on Mars - Dana there to greet him and a very expensive RTE outside broadcast.
I would love to think there was intelligent life out there somewhere. After all, there isn't much of it here. Having said that, I'm not obsessed with aliens or flying saucers. I don't build space rockets in my back garden nor do I dress up like a Klingon - but the thought of a close encounter of a peaceful kind is a rather moving one. I have a vague notion that people on other planets might look like small Bob Dylans. And of course Bob met the Pope last year and maybe that's where this recent Vatican drive on space exploration came from. And there was me thinking it was the Corrs.
In my weaker moments I occasionally like to watch Star Trek. It throws up the odd theological point and I think they had better be careful - after all, nobody expected the Spanish Inquisition and they really ought to know better with an Irish Chief Engineer. Anyway, there is a character called Q or M or Z or something like that - and he sort of plays God. He is a class of cosmic practical joker and is capable of everything. He is omnipresent, all knowing and a very bad sport. The first time I saw it, I thought they were into some fascinating and controversial ground but maybe I'm reading too much into it. Most Star Trek viewers do. And then there was the movie where they actually went to Heaven - only it wasn't Heaven - and God turned out to be a sort of Wizard of Oz - some strange bloke behind a curtain.
And so, the Vatican telescopes will be out tonight looking for the theological equivalent of a footprint or a still smouldering campfire.
Picture the scene. A priest and a Cardinal on the look-out while Bohemian Rhapsody plays on the stereo. Do you see anything your Eminence?
No, do you?
No your Eminence.
Neither do I. Were you at the Corrs?
Ah, they were very good your Eminence. They're from Dundalk.
What's the story with that Dylan person?
I don't know your Eminence. What are we looking for your Eminence?
Don't ask me. Ask His Holiness.
Does His Holiness think we'll find evidence of God your Eminence?
I'm sure we will. Unless His Holiness is very much mistaken.