Free Old Earth by Gary Grossman Page A

Inquisitor of Florence,” the local priest, half Galileo’s age, affirmed.
    “You?” Galileo hazarded a throaty, phlegm-filled laugh.
    “You are compelled to comply.”
    “And the charges against me?”
    “They are here.”
    The Inquisitor handed Galileo a document. The ailing scientist read the official declaration from the Vatican Inquisition. The principal charge referred back to 1616 when the church’s Index of Forbidden Books censored the works of Copernicus. At that time, Jesuit cardinal Robert Bellarmine instructed Galileo never to hold or defend the opinion that the Earth moved. Galileo agreed but arguably only loosely complied.
    “I have a certificate signed by Cardinal Bellarmine that states I have no such restriction other than any applied under the edict of 1616.”
    “Which, according to the charges, you violated. I suggest you find it.” The priest felt empowered and fully in control now. “Though such a paper should bring you little consolation.”
    “This is how they come to me?” Galileo looked up to the heavens. He sighed heavily. “I would request that any proceedings against me, no matter how fabricated, be settled here.”
    “His Holiness requests your presence in Rome.”
    “But, as you can see, I am in ill health. An extended trip to Rome will take its toll.” Galileo coughed, not just for effect. He was sick.
    His request was denied. In late January, 1633, Galileo began an arduous journey to Rome in the dead of winter. Twenty-three days later, two days before his sixty-ninth birthday, weakened by crippling sciatic pain, he took up residency in the Florentine embassy. Over the next four months, he tried to get his strength back to endure the private hearings and public humiliation. As he prepared, Galileo feared for what the Inquisitors would conclude from his writing given their strict Biblical interpretations, and what they might find if they explored further. He was certain the punishment would be death.

Fourteen
    MAKOSHIKA STATE PARK, MT
    The discussion from earlier in the day continued around a campfire.
    McCauley used the time to better understand his team, their individual abilities and personal perspectives, and whether they could also listen and work well with others. It was good information for him and a character building exercise for them.
    “Play the devil’s advocate now,” McCauley said.
    “I’m not sure the devil needs an advocate,” Al Jaffe chided.
    The gang laughed.
    “Okay, okay. Got me,” McCauley acknowledged. “What I want are arguments in the affirmative that the earth is under ten thousand years old. And as you do, remember, you’re representing the view of nearly fifty percent of the country. Who’s first?”
    The crackling wood in the fire pit didn’t drown anyone out because no one volunteered. McCauley could read the faces in the glow of the flames. This was going to be harder than he thought.
    “I’ll kick it off with an assumption: Evolution cannot be observed. Therefore it doesn’t exist.”
    It worked. Anna Chohany jumped right in. “But fossils—”
    “Fossils? There aren’t any transitional fossils,” the professor quickly countered. “If the ancestor of today’s horse, supposedly Miohippus, evolved from Mesohippus, where are its fossils? And again, don’t argue against the proposition, speak in favor that since evolution cannot be observed in real time, it does not exist.”
    “All right, though there are ways to support evolution under the microscope,” Adam Lobel offered.
    “Nope. Stick with the argument.”
    Leslie Cohen raised her hand ready to join the conversation, but Lobel held the floor.
    “There’s the erosion of Niagara Falls. I could argue that it absolutely lines up with the timeline of a few thousand years since the flood. It proves we live on a young Earth because its erosion is consistent with biblical fact.”
    “Not a lot of support, but it would make a strong sermon,” McCauley noted. “Give me more