Nothing against Chapter House, but my son’s not a fan. He’s only 11 mind you, and not a keen observer of the religio-political social media landscape. So I can say, without fear of discovery, that his Christmas stocking has a guiding theme this year: space.
Perhaps it was that long car journey to Scotland in the summer and being forced to listen to the BBC’s podcast series 13 Minutes to the Moon (which so brilliantly chronicles the Apollo 11 mission of 1969). More likely the star-gazing App which allows him to identify the location of the International Space Station at any given time by pointing my phone at the heavens (it seems to spend most of its time in the southern hemisphere so usually appears to be hiding behind the skirting board).
Whatever the reason, he’s much like I was at his age, poring over pictures of astronauts on space walks (“how do they pee, Dad?”) and trying to spot the difference in the night sky between Mars and Jupiter with the naked eye.
So his big Christmas gift this year is a Lego model of the Saturn V rocket. It clearly requires some hand/eye dexterity (“fourteen years and over” it says on the box). But what it really needs, and perhaps inspires, is imagination. If he ever finishes building it, that is. The model will stand 1.5m tall.
More importantly, it breaks down into its component parts. The massive first stage rocket that got the moonshot going, the second stage, that dragged it out of earth orbit, and the third stage which made the slingshot to our nearest neighbour in the solar system possible. Shall we talk about the service module? The lunar lander? For a young lad at least a little bit home-schooled by the whizzy computerised graphics of the X-Box, is it too much to expect him to – like me – re-enact the moon landings in the privacy of his bedroom?
I’m with him on spending billions on protecting the environment and vanquishing malaria. But I also think that there’s no harm in trying to populate our nearest planets, lest the species needs a bolt-hole.
Maybe. But he’s certainly got the space bug. He was agog earlier this month when Elon Musk’s latest attempt to push the boundaries of science with a prototype rocket capable of reaching Mars ended with a massive explosion (“nobody was on it, right Dad?”). And on Christmas morning, he’ll discover that I’ve done my bit to ease Mr Musk’s launchpad setback. There’s a branded SpaceX t-shirt and notepad under the tree (£14.99 and £2.95 respectively). Every little helps Elon (net worth $136.9bn).
As it happens, a friend of mine was recently offered the chance to invest in SpaceX. That came as a surprise because I’ve previously Googled whether it was possible to invest in Elon Musk’s company. My £100/ £200 stake would’ve been a very, very modest gesture of support for manned spaceflight (and would’ve made those launches even more exciting for my son and me). I can’t go into particulars, but the sum my friend was invited to stump up was in the tens of thousands. His financial advisor made clear that investing in SpaceX stock would either see a massive return or a total loss. Perhaps wisely, he demurred.
But he also fundamentally disagreed with my enthusiasm for Musk. And Bezos. And Branson. All those billionaire alpha males and their rocket-envy. He has no time for my view that Planet Earth deserves a plan-B. “We should be spending all that money on making the best of what we have here, now!” Is his view. I’m with him on spending billions on protecting the environment and vanquishing malaria. But I also think that there’s no harm in trying to populate our nearest planets, lest the species needs a bolt-hole. It makes me feel fractionally less guilty, every time I press “complete purchase” on another purchase from Amazon (owner: J. Bezos).
Does our biblical obligation to act as stewards of creation, conflict with the Darwinian desire for our species to survive, even if that means using science to find another near earth home?
And what should we make of this debate, as Catholics? Does our biblical obligation to act as stewards of creation, conflict with the Darwinian desire for our species to survive, even if that means using science to find another near earth home?
My investor friend, a cradle Catholic, might be surprised to learn that the tenets of faith and the vacuum of space are not somehow irreconcilable. Pope Benedict did a satellite hook-up with a shuttle crew and Francis did the same three years ago with astronauts on board the International Space Station (it must’ve emerged from its hiding place behind my skirting board).
My son too, would probably look perplexed if I told him how his Lego Saturn V tells a story of Christian devotion, not just aeronautical prowess. Apollo 15 astronaut James Irwin, left a bible on the dashboard of NASA’s lunar rover (it will still be there). Apollo 11 astronaut Buzz Aldrin – the second man to walk on the moon – took Communion shortly after landing on the lunar surface.
And then there’s the remarkable broadcast mentioned above which features in the BBC’s 13 Minutes to the Moon, delivered aboard Apollo 8. It was made on Christmas Eve 1968 and at the time was the most watched broadcast in history. Astronauts Bill Anders, Jim Lovell and Frank Boorman read from the Book of Genesis as they orbited the moon, the first humans ever so to do. It’s deeply moving and utterly incongruous – as they take it in turn to read from the Old Testament – in the newest way.
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