The Artemis II space mission was extraordinary for many reasons, and not insignificantly so for the perspectives it gave us.
The team of four astronauts, inside a spaceship named “Integrity,” showed us views we’d never seen before. We got new angles of the far side of the moon. We saw the moon eclipse the sun from the perspective of space – something Integrity crew member Victor Glover called going “sci-fi.” We saw different views of the Milky Way galaxy, of stars and of planets. Earth was reduced to a crescent, the likes of which earthlings are only used to seeing during certain lunar phases.
Each perspective gave new scientific insights and new inspiration for further exploration.
We saw other perspectives, too – those from inside the Integrity. We saw four individuals solidify into one unit as they worked together constructively to complete their mission. We saw them support one another professionally and personally. We saw a master class in communication, with, as my colleague Gina Christian pointed out, a synodal emphasis on listening and clear dialogue. We saw them laugh, cry, play, report, photograph, and transmit “moon joy” to their home planet. We saw them at such a loss for words that they told mission control they needed “20 new superlatives” to properly be able to describe the other-wordly experience they were having.
But we saw a further perspective from the team: one that seemed to feel the weight of the responsibility of history. Not just the history of NASA or space exploration, but the history of humanity itself. Artemis II left Earth at one of the planet’s most precarious times in recent memory, with a new war raging and an uncertain future looming. As Pope Leo XIV told members of the Diplomatic Corps accredited to the Holy See in January, “War is back in vogue and a zeal for war is spreading.” Speaking at a press event on Holy Saturday, and clearly hyper aware of the moment, Glover emphasised the preciousness of human existence.
“You guys are talking to us because we’re in a spaceship really far from Earth, but you’re on a spaceship called Earth that was created to give us a place to live in the universe,” he said. “Maybe the distance we are from you makes you think what we’re doing is special, but we’re the same distance from you. And I’m trying to tell you – just trust me – you are special.”
The next day, he spoke of love, quoting the two greatest commandments of Jesus Christ: to love God “with all you are” and “to love your neighbour as yourself.”
After returning from a planned 40-minute communications blackout as the Integrity sailed around the far side of the moon, crew member Christina Koch shared a message that contained great aspirations for the future of space travel, but which ended with these poignant words: “We will inspire, but ultimately, we will always choose Earth. We will always choose each other.”
Throughout its mission, the gained perspective of the Integrity crew was reflected back to us: that humanity, with all of the flaws that bespeak a fallen people, is fundamentally worth fighting for. That it is love – not hatred, war or division of any kind – that is the calling of each of us. That we must intentionally choose one another. The perspective of the crew of the so aptly named Integrity should be one embraced by every person of good will, and most certainly every Christian, living on what is our precious and increasingly fragile common home.
In a news conference following Integrity’s splashdown 10 April and the safe return of the astronauts to Earth, NASA official Lori Glaze defined the Artemis II mission as “a mission for all humanity.” From my own perspective, it was a mission that brought out the best in humanity. And I can only hope and pray that we take to heart its most fundamental lessons.
