As humanity stands on the precipice of interstellar travel, our technological aspirations will likely be met with evolving existential and theological questions. One opportunity that has the potential to emerge is a spiritual framework for extended spaceflight. I believe that a new Cosmic Monasticism will be developed as a way to cultivate faith, discipline, and transcendence beyond Earth’s gravitational pull.
In the coming decade, humanity will seek to colonize Mars. A manned mission to Mars is a subject of intense planning and ambition among space agencies and private companies, with NASA, SpaceX, and China leading the charge. If extended space travel and colonization are to be successful initially, we must consider not only the material and biological necessities of survival but also the benefits of spiritual resilience required to sustain humanity in the infinite abyss.
NASA’s multi-phase approach aims for human Mars missions in the 2030s, using the Artemis program, the Space Launch System (SLS), and Orion spacecraft to develop deep-space capabilities. Under Elon Musk’s leadership, SpaceX has set an ambitious timeline, planning uncrewed Starship missions by 2026 and crewed missions by 2028 or 2029, with the ultimate goal of a self-sustaining colony by 2050. Meanwhile, China has announced plans to land astronauts on Mars by 2033, with subsequent missions in 2035, 2037, and 2041 aiming for a permanently inhabited base.
In spite of these ambitious plans, significant challenges remain, including technological hurdles like life support and radiation protection, funding limitations, and human psychological factors associated with long-duration space travel. Travel time to Mars depends on propulsion technology, ranging from 6 to 9 months using current Hohmann Transfer Orbits to potentially 45 days with future advanced propulsion systems. While the early 2030s remain the target, continued advancements in technology and rigorous testing will be essential for mission success.
In the meantime, extended spaceflight will not only test humans’ bodies and intellects but also our spirits. Isolation, psychological stress, and the sheer enormity of the cosmos could evoke either an overwhelming sense of awe or an existential crisis. Without a well-defined spiritual framework, the risk of nihilism in the vacuum of space becomes a real possibility. Cosmic Monasticism could address these challenges by integrating contemplative spiritual practice into the very structure of space exploration.
Much like medieval monks who withdrew from society to cultivate wisdom and prayer, space travelers will need to develop an inward discipline to maintain their mental and emotional well-being. Monastic traditions across the world – Christian, Buddhist, and beyond – have long recognized the value of silence, meditation, and prayer in fostering inner peace. The principles that sustained Desert Mothers and Fathers, Tibetan monks, and Trappist communities can be adapted for spacefaring environments.
Monastic traditions emphasize structured spiritual rhythms, a principle that can be profoundly beneficial in the context of extended space travel. On Earth, monks follow the Liturgy of the Hours, a disciplined schedule of prayer that anchors their days in divine reflection. In the weightless expanse of space, where day and night lose their traditional meanings, astronauts can similarly establish structured spiritual practices. By maintaining regular cycles of prayer and meditation, they can foster mental clarity and emotional stability, helping to mitigate the psychological challenges of isolation and prolonged missions.
The vastness of space naturally lends itself to solitude and contemplation, providing a setting for deep spiritual formation. Just as Christian hermits once sought refuge in caves and deserts to commune with God, astronauts in space could cultivate similar reflective disciplines. The absence of earthly distractions offers an opportunity to engage in prolonged meditation, perhaps even within specially designed floating chambers that enhance the experience of weightless prayer. In these moments of solitude, astronauts might experience a profound sense of transcendence, contemplating humanity’s place in the universe and the divine mysteries that lie beyond.
Even in isolation, spiritual practice thrives in community, and communal worship could serve as a crucial pillar of spiritual life in space. Crews on long-duration missions could gather regularly for shared prayer, theological discussions, and scripture readings, reinforcing a sacred sense of unity and purpose. Just as monasteries function as places of collective devotion, a spacecraft or future space colony could incorporate intentional spaces for communal worship, ensuring that spiritual needs are met alongside physical and intellectual ones. This shared practice would help sustain astronauts not only emotionally but also in their commitment to a higher purpose beyond the immediate concerns of survival.
This means that space travelers could find additional meaning in their work by approaching it as an act of worship and devotion. Monastic traditions teach that labor is not merely a necessity but a sacred duty, a way to serve both God and the community. In space, maintaining life-support systems, conducting scientific research, and even growing food are essential tasks that, if framed correctly, can become spiritual disciplines. By infusing daily work with intention and gratitude, astronauts can transform routine survival tasks into acts of reverence, ensuring that their journey is not just a physical exploration of the cosmos but also a spiritual pilgrimage into the unknown.
With the integration of AI companions in space, AI monastic guides could assist astronauts in maintaining a disciplined spiritual life. In an environment where priests and pastors are absent, AI-driven spiritual directors might provide theological reflections, guide astronauts through liturgical practices, and even engage in moral reasoning discussions. If properly designed, AI could facilitate monastic practice, offering personalized prayer schedules, scripture-based encouragement, and meditative guidance to help facilitate the work of the Holy Spirit in their human counterparts.
Additionally, the mechanics of traditional worship – kneeling, bowing, even the celebration of communion – will likely need to be reimagined for space. Monks of old adjusted their practices based on location; desert monks adapted to the heat and scarcity of water, while Celtic monks developed prayers influenced by the rhythm of the sea. Space monks would need to rethink how sacred symbols, sacraments, and gestures function in zero gravity. One possibility is developing new, space-adapted rituals of embodiment – movements of prayer that harmonize with the floating body, digital hymns that resonate in the sterile silence of spacecraft, and theological reflections on the weightlessness of grace in a realm where gravity no longer binds.
Looking ahead, we may very well see the establishment of monastic space stations dedicated to prayer, theological study, and cosmic reflection. Interplanetary pilgrims might travel to such stations for spiritual renewal. When humans colonize Mars, will monastic communities develop on Olympus Mons, where monks will spend much of their lives contemplating God’s presence in the red dust of a new world?
The future of human spirituality is not simply Earth-bound, and, as such, Cosmic Monasticism is not just theoretical – it is an inevitable adaptation of spiritual discipline to the next frontier. Whether in a medieval monastery or aboard a space station orbiting Titan, the disciplines of prayer, worship, and contemplation disciplines remain essential to much of human flourishing. The Church must begin preparing for this future now – training astronauts, theologians, and AI developers alike to forge a faith that can flourish in the cosmos.
