Skip to main content

Rediscovering Galileo

In this episode, Rediscovering Galileo . . .

Today, we’re turning our telescopes back in time to explore Galileo Galilei's work and how amateur astronomers today can experience his groundbreaking discoveries for themselves.

If you listened to last week's podcast, Planetary Pursuit, you might have heard me say that Jupiter is “my favorite planet." Here’s why–

Galileo’s Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems, published in 1632, challenged the geocentric model of the universe—the belief that everything orbits around Earth. Instead, he advocated for the Copernican model, which places the Sun at the center of our solar system. This book was not just a scientific treatise but also a revolutionary act that put Galileo in conflict with the Catholic Church.

Galileo presented his arguments as a dialogue between three characters: Salviati, who supported the heliocentric model; Simplicio, who defended the traditional geocentric view; and Sagredo, an open-minded observer. It’s easy to see who emerged looking a bit foolish. Simplicio, perceived as representing Church doctrine, was portrayed as less informed, leading to accusations that Galileo mocked the Church's authority.

In 1633, Galileo was tried by the Inquisition, forced to recant his support for heliocentrism, and placed under house arrest. The Catholic Church had declared heliocentrism heretical in 1616, leading to his confinement. The Inquisition found him "vehemently suspect of heresy" for supporting the Copernican system and pressured him to retract his views publicly, which he refused. Galileo spent the remainder of his life under house arrest, where he continued his scientific work.

Despite the controversy, Galileo’s observations were difficult to refute. Let’s begin with one of his most famous: Jupiter and its moons. In 1610, Galileo discovered four moons orbiting Jupiter using his enhanced (20X) telescope. Today, we call them the Galilean moons: Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto.

By tracking their movements night after night, Galileo demonstrated that these moons orbited Jupiter, not Earth. This was significant because it proved that not everything in the cosmos revolves around us. It was akin to discovering a mini solar system, providing strong evidence for the Copernican model.

It wasn’t until 1992 that Pope John Paul II formally pardoned Galileo, acknowledging the Church’s error in condemning his findings and praising his scientific contributions.

And here’s the fun part: You can repeat Galileo’s observations using a simple telescope. Just point it at Jupiter on a clear night. Over several evenings, you’ll notice the positions of its moons shift—evidence that they’re orbiting the gas giant. Here are a few hand-drawn diagrams and notes from my version of his experiment.

Galileo didn’t stop with Jupiter. He observed the phases of Venus, which change similarly to the Moon’s phases. This wouldn’t be possible if Venus orbited Earth. Instead, it only makes sense if Venus orbits the Sun, reinforcing the heliocentric model.

With a telescope, you can observe the phases of Venus yourself. It’s an incredible way to connect with the scientific revolution that Galileo helped ignite. And don’t forget his work with the Moon! Galileo’s sketches of craters and mountains shattered the belief that celestial bodies were perfect spheres. Grab some binoculars or a small telescope and look at the Moon during its crescent phase for stunning shadows and details.

So, whether it’s Jupiter’s moons, Venus’s phases, or the rugged surface of the Moon, Galileo’s discoveries are accessible to anyone with curiosity and a telescope. Why not step into his shoes and see the universe as he did. An amateur astronomer's way to step back in time.

I’m Patrick Ball. Thanks for listening, and I’ll see you in the next episode.

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

When Fear Becomes the Default

In this special episode, When Fear Becomes the Default. Early Sunday morning, I was cycling past a small veterans’ pocket park in San Marcos. The air was still, the streets nearly empty. On one corner stood a young woman, alone, holding a hand-painted sign that read: “Be ANGRY. ICE agents are murdering people.” I pedaled past, but the words stayed with me. I knew the context—the footage and headlines from Minneapolis the day before, already ricocheting through the country and hardening opinions. Even in the quiet of the ride, the noise followed. Two miles later, I stopped at a red light. A black car with dark windows pulled up inches from my bike. My heart jumped. My first instinct wasn’t neighbor —it was threat . I found myself bracing, scanning, and wondering if the person inside was angry, armed, or looking for trouble. Then the door opened. A well-dressed young woman stepped out, walked to the trunk, and pulled out a sign that read “Open House.” She turned, smiled brightly, and sa...

The Language of Home: Building a Sanctuary

This episode is  for anyone trying to find their footing in a new place—whether it’s a new city, a new job, or a new country. The light in Florence, Italy, has a way of making everything feel like a Renaissance painting—the golden hue on the stone, the steady rhythm of the Arno River, and the feeling that you are walking through a history much larger than yourself. I was there to give a presentation to a class of Gemology students. I was prepared to discuss color grading and refractive indices, but not to be outed as a language tutor . Feeling very much like a guest in a storied land, a hand shot up enthusiastically. "You’re the guy on the podcasts," the young woman said, her eyes bright with recognition. "You’re the one teaching us English." I laughed nervously. If you know my flat Midwestern accent, you know the irony here. I am hardly an Oxford professor. But later, as I wandered the cobblestone streets beneath the shadow of the Duomo, the humor faded into a powe...

Practiced Hands: The 50-Year Warranty

What Doc Burch Taught Me About Staying Active. We talk a lot about "life hacks" these days, but most of them don’t have a very long shelf life. Usually, they’re forgotten by the next app update. But back in 1972, I received a piece of advice that came with a 50-year warranty. It’s the reason I’m still on my bike today, still chasing a golf ball around Carlsbad, and still—mostly—in one piece. The Kick That Changed Everything It started with a literal kick in the pants. A kid at school in Cuba, Illinois, was joking around and caught me just right. By the next morning, my lower back was screaming. My mom didn’t reach for the Tylenol; she reached for her car keys. "Let’s go see Doc Burch," she said. "He’ll fix you right up." Harry E. Burch, D.C., was a fixture in Lewistown. He’d graduated from Palmer College in ’59 and had been our family’s go-to for years. He was a man of practiced hands and steady eyes. After a quick exam and an X-ray, the mood in the room s...

On the Fly–Taking Flight

In this special 500th episode,  On the Fly  is moving to a new home. Here’s why—and what’s staying the same. For a very long time (since April 2012),  On the Fly  has lived on  Blogger . Blogger has been a reliable host—dependable, quiet, and never complaining when I arrived late with another half-baked idea, a guitar riff, or a story that needed a little air. It faithfully archived my thoughts, my music, and more than a decade of curiosity. But the internet has changed. It’s louder now. Flashier. More insistent. Every thought is nudged to perform. Every sentence wants to be optimized, monetized, or interrupted by something that really wants your attention right this second. I’ve been craving the opposite. So today, On the Fly is moving to Substack . If you’ve been with me for a while, you know my quiet obsession: the A rt of Seeing . I’m interested in the moments we rush past—the Aversion Trap, the discipline hidden inside a guitarist’s daily practice, t...