Embracing Moon Joy

by Chris Koellhoffer, IHM    April 10, 2026

Have you, like me, been gazing more frequently at the sky this month? Perhaps you joined me in looking up, following the journey of Artemis II. The timing of its launch coincided here on Earth with our observance of the Passover, the longing of Holy Thursday, the suffering of Good Friday, the emptiness and waiting of Holy Saturday, and the exuberant Easter rising of Jesus. The mission of Artemis II at this very time has generated global interest and invited contemplation on who we are in relation to the rest of the Holy One’s creation, the Universe.

The luminous writer and friend of heavenly bodies, Madeleine L’Engle, wrote that the root of disaster (dis-aster) is separation from the stars, meaning that the deepest tragedy for our souls is to be cut off from dreams and beauty and meaning and hope. Could this be the season of reunion with the stars?

Artemis II could hardly have launched at a more optimal time, for sadly, it’s far too easy to name only the woundedness of our planet and her inhabitants. A mere five minutes of taking in the news of the day reveals a lengthy list of wars and regional conflicts, bombings of already decimated people and their homes, decision-making that ignores the crying needs of the desperate poor and the most vulnerable. But this Easter season impels us to see beyond appearances, to find the bud under the frost, the stone rolled away from the tomb, the dream of the world we want to live in.

With Artemis II, I’m taken back to my childhood in the suburbs. There my father introduced us to the spiritual practice of stargazing. He would sometimes bundle us up in blankets in the middle of the night and carry us out to the second floor deck of our home. There we would simply gaze in awe and in a collective silence before a midnight sky brilliant with stars. Though our hearts ached with a longing we could not explain, we somehow intuited that the distance between galaxies and our earth-bound feet was not really all that far. We felt stardust and kinship close in our bones, so whatever childhood concerns had filled that day were swept up and transformed by the view of something beyond us, something bigger than our imagining.

This might be what we’re noticing with Artemis II: rekindled hope and rehydrated dreams for the human family. We’ve learned that the Greek roots of astronaut translate as “star sailor.” That name alone has a sense of exhilaration and adventure about it, doesn’t it? We’ve noticed and been moved by the many thoughtful details that NASA and these sailors among the stars have carried with them into space. How appropriate that a child, Lucas Ye, designed RISE, a zero gravity indicator for the mission, a whimsical face floating around the capsule. Hardware from the Space Shuttle Challenger, whose 1986 mission claimed the lives of all seven astronauts onboard, came as a nod of remembrance. This gesture made it possible, in a meaningful way, for the Challenger mission to go to the moon also, but in the year 2026. Astronaut Jim Lovell’s family contributed a patch from the Apollo 8 mission to the moon, a return visit of sorts. From their vantage point, the crew suggested naming one moon crater “Integrity,” the name of their spacecraft, and then a second crater, a bright spot located on the boundary of the near and far side of the moon, “Carroll,” honoring the late wife of commander Reid Wiseman. This collective tenderness led to many postings on  Instagram, including this wondering, “Who knew four astronauts would be the spiritual balm for our wounded collective soul?”

What is it about Artemis II and Easter and this moment? After this journey, how could anyone gaze at the moon untouched by our shared hopes for this planet to be at peace and blessed by the goodness of so many? Might we read into these tender details the rising of our hope that another way, the way of compassion and collaboration and peace, is possible? Might we in these days live intentionally and reclaim our ultimate place in the heart of the Cosmos? What might the Artemis II journey be saying to each of us in this Easter season, and how will our lives be different because of that?

Takeaway
Sit in stillness with the Holy One.
If you’re able, take your prayer outside once dusk turns to night. Or gaze through a window out to the heavens.
Thank the moon and stars as they make their appearance.
Imagine yourself looking back from them to our beautiful yet wounded planet, with reverence and respect.
Thank the Holy One for this divine creation and for every moment of Moon Joy.

Featured Image: Ahmred Fareed, Unsplash

NOTE:
April 11-18
Please hold in your prayer my IHM congregation as we enter into our Chapter, a week of prayer and discernment of our future and as we elect new leadership to advance our mission for the life of our beautiful yet wounded world. Thank you!

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