A Rabbi, a Pastor, and an Imam Walk Into a (Space) Bar…

A rabbi, a pastor, and an imam walked into a (space) bar. It sounds like a classic joke, except for the cosmic twist. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what circumstances might lead to this sci-fi-sounding scenario.

Humans have been exploring space since the 1960s. My grandfather was a rocket scientist who contracted for NASA on the moon landing project. After that, he pivoted to supporting the first space station, called Skylab. Shuttles have been launched into space. Scientific experiments have been conducted. Recently, tourists have been scratching their itch for a transcendent experience by touching the stars.

Billionaires like Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos are teaming up with NASA to take us back to the moon, where we hope to establish a research facility on the lunar south pole. But America is not the only game in town. Russia and China have announced plans to set up a joint moon base in the next decade. Israel, China, India, and Japan all have cosmic ambitions of their own in this rapidly evolving Space Age 2.0.

What could happen in space in the next 50 to 100 years? What if space is commercialized through the development of orbital resorts that circle the earth, giving wealthy humans the opportunity to take in a breathtaking vista? What if space becomes militarized (as many thinkers predict; some say it is already), and rival forces are searching for an uneasy detente in the skies? What if space is industrialized, and a transnational corporation establishes a 250-person permanent mining colony on the moon?

“If there is a bar in outer space, I want clergy to be there, and more than as a punchline. ”

You’re probably wondering why I care. I care because I am passionate about gospel witness. If there is a bar in outer space, I want clergy to be there, and more than as a punchline. I believe there should be a religious presence in whatever type of society eventually emerges in outer space. As a Christian, I’d like to see a gospel witness in the stars.

In fact, religion has already been extensively practiced in the cold confines of space. On Christmas Eve in 1968, the crew of Apollo 8 read from Genesis while they circled the moon. One of the first men on the moon celebrated communion there. Pope Paul VI sent Psalm 8 to be left behind on the moon (in fact, the Pope congratulated the Apollo 11 astronauts from the Vatican Observatory).

A Saudi Prince - Sultan Salman al-Saud – flew on a space shuttle mission in 1985. He fasted for one day of Ramadan, and read the Qur’an, but did not worry about praying toward Mecca (it is hard to find when everything is moving so fast). A Malaysian astronaut on the International Space Station was even given a special exemption from kneeling during prayer (how do you kneel in zero gravity?).

Religious Jews have also practiced their faith in orbit. Shabbat has been observed in outer space, and Hannukah too. In 1993, a Jewish astronaut famously spun a dreidel in low gravity (he placed Velcro on the dreidel to help it “land”). How do you observe a strict kosher diet of freeze-dried food? That is a question I’ll let Jewish scholars wrestle with.

But it’s not just religious rituals that have taken place in outer space. In fact, gospel witness has already occurred in orbit, as a Baptist astronaut sought to share the gospel with Russian cosmonauts on the Mir space station. This type of extra-planetary evangelism is what intrigues me. Unlike certain Catholic astrotheologians, I am not interested in evangelizing extraterrestrials (I don’t think we’re ever going to encounter little green men). But, if humans are going to venture into space, taking their sin with them, then missionaries must follow.

“The final frontier of mission is coming, and we need to be there, preaching on the frontier of unbelief.”

Scientists are developing technologies for space travel and progressive activists are crafting ethical approaches for off-world living. Evangelicals cannot afford to be left behind. We have always been a gospel-sharing people; that is core to our identity. We must turn our gaze to the stars, as far-fetched as it seems. The final frontier of mission is coming, and we need to be there, preaching on the frontier of unbelief.

I doubt that whoever runs a transnational lunar mining colony would let someone like me plant The First Baptist Church of the Moon. But they might allow chaplains to operate in what would be a simultaneously secular and pluralistic environment. Bi-vocational missionaries could also play a role (who wants to be a lunar scientist AND a church planter?).

I want evangelicals to go to hard places to share the gospel: unreached tribes, secular conclaves, and international cities. It’s time we start thinking about adding one more destination to our list of hard places that need gospel access: outer space.