The Church of the Astronauts

“A BRILLIANT JEWEL in the black velvet sky.” That’s how lunar-module pilot Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin described the Earth in a 1998 interview, recalling how our planet looked from the vantage point of its natural satellite. Fifty years ago this summer—on July 20, 1969, during the Apollo 11 mission—Aldrin and Neil Armstrong became the first people to walk on the moon, a revolutionary moment for all humanity.

Another first transpired on that historic day, one that tends to be omitted from records or simply overlooked due to the complex relationship between religion and science. After landing on the moon’s Sea of Tranquility, Aldrin celebrated Communion, marking the momentous occasion with an act of thanksgiving after silently reading from scripture that he had written on a small card. “I am the vine, you are the branches,” he read. “Whoever remains in me, and I in him, will bear much fruit; for you can do nothing without me.”

Aldrin’s sacramental act was especially significant for the congregation of Webster Presbyterian Church in Webster, Texas, where he served as an elder. Under pastor Dean Woodruff, the church supplied Aldrin with a miniature silver chalice, the seal of the Presbyterian church, a bread wafer, and a small amount of wine, all of which nearly filled the astronaut’s small allowance of personal belongings.

On Earth, a few miles down the road from the Johnson Space Center in Houston, a crowd of people in his family of faith gathered at what became known as the “Church of the Astronauts” to take Communion at the same time, a celebration that has become an annual tradition called Lunar Communion Sunday.

“It brings us all back to that thing that united this church early in the birth of the space city,” said retired astronaut Clayton Anderson, who was an active member of the church for most of his 30-year tenure at NASA.

With open palms and unclenched fists

In July, Webster Presbyterian commemorates the 50th anniversary of the first moon walk with a worship service featuring Anderson as guest preacher, followed by a presentation over a shared meal. NASA employees and their families who have had affiliation with the church are invited to attend the day of festivities that revolve around Psalm 8, a verse that speaks of the limitless grandeur of God and connects humankind to the magnitude of the universe.

“It’s going to be like a homecoming for this church, a celebration of the great achievements of our community, and also individually for our congregation,” Missy Stanley Rorrer said in March. A sales executive for CVS Specialty, Rorrer has attended the church for 27 years and is helping to organize the event, determined to keep history alive for future generations. “This church, when any of our guys were in space, we prayed for them,” Rorrer said. “We supported the family. We were always together. It’s going to be like a family reunion.”

Founded in 1893, Webster Presbyterian was for many years the only spiritual home in the small, rural community. The church was a missionary plant established by Midwestern and Japanese farmers, and it was greatly impacted by NASA’s Manned Spacecraft Center (now the Johnson Space Center) when it moved to the Houston area in the early 1960s, explained Keith Uffman, current pastor and head of staff. “All of a sudden, basically into this cow patch, people from all over the world showed up,” Uffman said. “People wanted to go to church, so they all ended up at Webster, and this suddenly became a NASA congregation.”

Past members include John Glenn, Buzz Aldrin, Jerry Carr, Charlie Bassett, and Roger Chaffee, but while astronauts get the glory, they make up only a small fraction of the team, which consists of engineers, scientists, IT specialists, technicians, writers, and many others who handle the logistics of getting them into space.

Still, not everything revolves around space exploration for Webster members, Uffman insisted. “They’re just interested in ideas. My first class, I quoted Plato incorrectly, and somebody corrected me. I don’t think that’s ever happened before,” he said, laughing.

The community of scholars is also diverse, and with that comes the inclination to embrace all kinds of people with open palms and unclenched fists, regardless of sexual orientation, race, or even religious beliefs, he said. Within the church are several atheists, including a Russian translator who attends every Sunday. In a flock that is so receptive to the interfaith world, Uffman said, they are able to engage in conversation without feeling pressured to convert.

Experiencing the openness of the universe strongly impacts people’s openness to others, Uffman said. Considering the inclusive DNA of Webster Presbyterian, Uffman is not surprised that Aldrin later expressed qualms about his decision to celebrate a Christian sacrament in space, rather than one that is more representative of all humankind. “He was being true to who he was at the time,” Uffman said, “and then he began to reflect on the struggle that we’re having, especially in a country like ours where the amount of religious diversity is astounding.”

Taking the broad, broad view

A profession in space science is an all-encompassing lifestyle, a passion full of extraordinary curiosity but also sacrifice and serious risk of devastation. For NASA employees, who often live far from family—including astronauts who periodically leave the Earth itself—the church quickly became a saving grace.

Worship and the church provided renewed strength and encouragement, as did being surrounded by like-minded individuals who were able to comfort one another spiritually and emotionally. They served as a support system, a family, that everyone, including astronaut Anderson, relied on through each tragedy that shook the small, tight-knit city.

Born in Nebraska, Anderson began his career as an engineer at the Johnson Space Center in 1983. Fifteen years and 14 rejections later, he was selected as an astronaut candidate, and in 2007 he spent five months aboard the International Space Station as a mission specialist. By the time he retired in 2013, he had completed two space flights, logged 167 days in space, and performed six space walks.

With tears in his eyes, Anderson spoke of the space shuttle Columbia, which disintegrated on its return to Earth in February 2003, killing all seven crew members. It was a Saturday, Anderson recalled, and he was present at the landing site, responsible for providing support to the crew’s relatives. The following morning, he attended Sunday school, numb and unable to communicate his grief but finding solace in his church family by ministering to and with them.

“Most astronauts speak about the orbital perspective, that we get the opportunity to see the Earth from space, from orbit, and get a whole new perspective on what we see,” Anderson said. “That’s totally true, but I will tell people, and I’ll tell you today, that my revelation was it did nothing but strengthen my faith in God. When I looked at the Earth, when I saw the heavens, all I could think was: This is not random. Randomness is non-engineering, so to not think that there was something that started all of this in motion is contrary to my faith.”

Faith has been a constant throughout this astronaut’s life. Having grown up in the church, he often played the organ, and as an adult he continued his involvement in music at Webster Presbyterian, singing in the choir alongside engineer Jack Kinzler, who designed the specialty flagpole used on the moon and invented an unfurling space parasol that saved the first American space station, Skylab. For a time, Anderson also served as deacon, one of two classes of officers in the Presbyterian church that focuses primarily on the care-and-cure aspects of social justice work.

“I try to emulate my faith through my life—how I behave, how I treat people, how I speak,” Anderson said. In the aftermath of Hurricane Harvey, he and his family volunteered at Bay Harbour United Methodist Church in League City, Texas, which had been established as a Red Cross shelter. “Did I care what color they were? Did I care if they had tattoos? Did I care if they were gay? No. I just knew they needed help, and I believe that as a man of faith I’m obligated to help those in need.”

Others at the church said their theological understanding of social justice isn’t necessarily influenced by their connection to space. Yet, the relationship between the two serves as a fitting metaphor for the magnitude of their work as individuals within the larger community.

“To me, social justice is just another term,” said Jimmy Spivey, NASA’s assistant director for flight operations for exploration. “To me, it’s the calling from Jesus to take care of the least of these. As a Christian, I’m called to do that, to care for those in various ways, to use the talents I have. Whether you call it social justice or helping the poor or the needy, we’re called to serve the least of Jesus.”

Spivey started working at NASA in 1987 and joined Webster Presbyterian four years later. He has served on the mission and finance committees, as a Sunday school teacher, as an elder, and for the last six years as the church treasurer.

“When I’m working at NASA, I always feel like I’m doing something bigger than I am,” he said. “When I think about my faith and helping people, that’s it. I can’t help everybody. I couldn’t help everybody that needs help in this church or even in this community, but you do your part. I don’t work the International Space Station flight operations, and I don’t work the new commercial crew launches. There are other folks that work those things. It takes a lot of people, and I’m just a small part of that, just like I’m a small part of this community of faith that can do something.”

The swirls of the cosmos

Embedded in Webster Presbyterian’s vision statement is not only a strong commitment to scientific ideas, but also a dedication to establishing a just world and valuing spiritual inquiry. One of the newest ways the church exemplifies this is through art—in particular, how it affects and heals people. For instance, prior to a Lunar Communion exhibit, the visual arts team, led by Diane Kane, a member of the church since 1985, presented a display examining beauty in brokenness.

“A lot of engineers have always had art and music in their lives,” said Allen Brown, a contractor who worked with NASA for almost two decades and has been a church member for five years. “To me, engineering is not really any different than art. It’s an expression.”

The interchangeable gallery, which decorates the back walls of the sanctuary, accompanies the art in the place of worship. When the current sanctuary was opened in 2004, it featured a series of six circular stained-glass windows, three on either side of the space leading to a larger stained-glass window above the altar. Inspired by Hubble telescope images, the abstract, colorful designs by artist Stephen Wilson are based on Matthew 13:15, which is on the wall near the foyer entrance: “Look with your eyes, listen with your ears, understand with your heart.”

Looking closely, one may spot feet stepping forward in the outermost windows, faces lifting up in the middle two, and hands stretching out in the windows closest to the chancel. The symbolism is hidden among the swirls of the cosmos, which seem to create movement that culminates in the center altar window, featuring ears to remind worshippers to hear the words of Christ, a sliver of the moon, and a vibrant red heart divided into four quadrants by a cross.

“Basically, it’s to reinforce that we are the hands, heart, eyes, and feet of Christ in the world,” Kane said. “So it’s our job, our obligation to be out there and to interact with others with that loving heart of God.”

Situated in the top right section of the center window is a small piece of the Allende meteorite that fell in the Mexican village of Pueblito de Allende in February 1969. It was collected by scientists to test certain procedures in preparation for handling the moon rocks brought back by the Apollo 11 crew. If the heart were to be reunited, the fragment, which contains some of the oldest material formed in the solar system, would be positioned right in its center.

With such a tangible example of space purposefully placed in the middle of symbols of faith and love, the windows represent the church’s core values and beliefs. “We serve God well by using our minds well,” Uffman said. “If you were going to reduce the theology of the congregation to one slogan, I think the theology of wonder dominates, which just by itself is very hopeful and graceful.”