I’m not really a “space person.” I don’t own a telescope or have the Sky Guide app on my phone. I didn’t dream about being an Astronaut as a kid. Sure, I count The Sparrow, Mary Doria Russell’s novel about a Jesuit-led mission to make contact with life on another planet, as one of my very favorite books, but that has more to do with the theological themes than the space travel plot. So I have been surprised to find myself so moved by the Artemis II mission. I cried watching the launch and have been crying a little every day since. I cried when mission Commander Reid Wiseman said, “We have a beautiful moonrise. We’re headed right at it,” and when the astronauts asked to name a newly discovered crater on the moon after the commander’s late wife, and when they reestablished communications with NASA after travelling behind the moon and asserted, “we will always choose earth.”

In a world where recent news of technological advancement has centered on Artificial Intelligence, it is profoundly moving to witness the very present humanity of this feat of science and engineering. These astronauts are not merely sending back data and synthesizing observations. They are bearing witness. They are communicating using the language of science yes, but also of religion and of poetry. They are sharing joy and grief. They are even having plumbing issues (can you think of anything more human)! They are connecting this mission to those who came before them, including female pioneers and civil rights leaders. And they are clear that they want their legacy to be not this mission itself, but the exploration that comes after.

It is all so deeply human while still being utterly extraordinary. That paradox reminds me of one of the most defining features of our humanity—the capacity to and for wonder. We are people of boundless curiosity who experience the great and mystical gift of awe. Twentieth century Rabbi and Jewish philosopher Abraham Joshua Heschel’s says that “Knowledge is fostered by curiosity; wisdom is fostered by awe…awe is the root of faith”

I am grateful for the ways in which we are increasing in knowledge, wisdom, and faith as a result of Artemis II’s journey. I wish them Godspeed on their return to earth.

In honor of our human capacity to and for wonder, here is a poem by Ada Limon.

In Praise of Mystery: A Poem for Europa

In faith and with wonder,

Rev. Danielle