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Italian chemist explores
the science of miracles
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Articles about Italy)
By Daniel Williams, Washington Post
| November 13, 2005
PAVIA, Italy -- Such is the supply of miracles in Italy that
if a month goes by without one, it's, well, a miracle.
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Madonnas, sacred blood that goes from solid to liquid and back
again, lottery numbers divined by gazing on a photo of a deceased
pope, sudden cures after contact with a holy relic -- Miracles
are old phenomena in Italy, the land where St. Francis tamed
a wolf and wild doves, and a veil taken from St. Agatha's tomb
stopped lava in its tracks.
But this is also the land of science par excellence, the home
ground of Galileo, da Vinci, Fermi, and Marconi. So there are
voices that say, ''Hold on a minute."
Luigi Garlaschelli is a chemist at Pavia University who eyes
Italy's parade of miracles skeptically. He belongs to a group
called the Italian Committee to Investigate Claims of the Paranormal,
made up of Italian scientists, including two Nobel Prize recipients,
who use science to try to explain the inexplicable.
''Miracles are just paranormal events in religious clothing,"
he says. ''I'm a chemist. I look for the substance behind things."
He's not trying to undermine people's religious beliefs, he
says, explaining: ''We're just trying to study phenomena. If
there's a non-miraculous answer, we say so."
These days, it is more important to champion scientific methods
in the face of assaults from religious authorities and fundamentalist
believers, he contended. The attack on Charles Darwin's theory
of evolution in the United States by promoters of intelligent
design is a symptom of the danger, he said. ''Science should
not be lethargic."
In his work, he does not often tangle with the Vatican. Officials
there generally take a benign, arm's length stance toward the
many events traditionally celebrated as miracles in its churches,
neither questioning nor embracing them. ''Some of these things
are medieval in origin. I stay away from them," said the Rev.
Peter Gumpel, an official at the Vatican's Congregation for
the Causes of the Saints, which investigates reports of miracles
by candidates for sainthood.
''Our belief, however, is that there is a personal God who intervenes
in history," he said.
Garlaschelli studies not only religious phenomena, but also
plain trickery. He has written a book about sorcerers and levitation,
and one about an ancient Italian sword stuck in a stone that
may be the precursor of the King Arthur legend.
It's a far cry from his usual research, which produces academic
papers with titles such as ''Recent Progress in the Field of
N-acylalanines as Systemic Fungicides." Garlaschelli recently
completed a periodic imitation of the miracle of San Gennaro,
an event that has been celebrated in Naples since the 14th century.
The city's archbishop pulls out a vial containing a maroon-colored
solid substance from a case, then shakes the container until
the contents liquefy.
The liquid is said to be the blood of San Gennaro, a pious bishop
who was beheaded in 305 A.D. by Diocletian, a Roman emperor.
Liquefaction promises a peaceful future for Naples -- a pledge
popular with residents of a city that sits in the shadow of
Mount Vesuvius. The shaking of San Gennaro's vial draws crowds
of frenzied spectators.
Scientific studies of the substance have not conclusively identified
it as blood, although one purported to find traces of hemoglobin.
Keepers of the relic have not provided a sample of the material
for thorough testing.
Garlaschelli put together a cocktail of materials available
near Naples that would have been obtainable in the Middle Ages
to try to replicate the alleged miracle. His mixture of limestone
powder, iron, and pigments was solid when left still, but turned
fluid when stirred or shaken. The process is called thixotropy.
In the 1990s, Garlaschelli took on one of the most revered relics
in Christendom, the Shroud of Turin. It bears an image of Jesus
that believers say was miraculously acquired when the cloth
covered his body after the Crucifixion.
Garlaschelli said if the shroud were wrapped around a face,
the features should have been distorted and disproportionate.
To prove his point, Garlaschelli had a student put on a bathing
suit, lie on a slab, cover himself with paint, and then pull
a shroud over himself. The image left on the cloth looks similar
to the Turin shroud's, except that it has a distorted face.
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