A Life of Galileo - Blog - Mylo McDonald
- Lazarus

- Jan 8
- 1 min read
Going into the R&D, I was fascinated by the idea of societal progress; a force with the potential to alleviate human suffering, that can be halted to prop up powerful and tyrannical institutions.
But the question that kept coming back to me was: is progress always a good thing?
The character of the LITTLE MONK, who I read, argued in opposition to unchecked, iconoclastic progress, fearful his family members would lose all meaning for their hard, unforgiving existence if Galileo’s ideas caught on. Though a flawed argument, forcefully rebutted by Galileo, I found the humanist compassion in both sides of the fight for progress compelling, and thoroughly enjoyed the group discussions on the topic.
After reading the play aloud in the classic Lazarus ‘French-scening’ way, it struck me how Galileo felt like a sort-of-prophet in the second act, complete with a small band of disciples. Interestingly, we discovered that this was around that time where mention of God, the church and biblical references seemed to fall away, replaced by a faith-like fervour for astronomy and scientific philosophy. I left the reading feeling struck by this thought: that whatever the size or scale, whether with good or bad intentions, all these characters appear to be serving something greater than themselves, striving to make sense of it all.
I’d entered the reading with a bias that Brecht was heady and emotionally cold. I left feeling that, besides the intellect, the human heart of Brecht’s work had begun to reveal itself.



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