John Nagy ’00M.A. | October 14, 2020
More than a decade ago, when he was a graduate theology student working on, of all things, the creation of a planetarium show, Leonard DeLorenzo ’03, ’14Ph.D. carried his contemplations of the universe into daily Mass, where he had a kind of extrastellar epiphany.
He was thinking about that part of the presentation near the end, when the camera’s eye somehow slips through the outer temporal limits of what we 21st-century Earthlings are able to see via satellites, telescopes, computers and data imaging: the farthest boundaries of the universe.
Certainly more stars and nebulae lie beyond, but it’s all so far from Earth that the light those heavenly bodies emanate hasn’t had enough billions of years to reach us yet. So, as our flying vantage-point zooms into the void, looking back toward the sum total of recordable light and time, that dark, uncharted realm appears on the planetarium dome as a vast blackness threatening to engulf the luminous aura that is our observable universe.
What DeLorenzo at prayer was beginning to see in that white circle of the universe’s light was an analogy to the Eucharist: “Everything, contained in one ‘small’ space, being given to you,” he says.
Read more here.