I was watching (for the fourth time) the 1995 historical docudrama, Apollo 13, a few evenings ago. It’s a great movie about our aborted attempt at a third moon landing in 1970. Tom Hanks played the mission commander Jim Lovell. The movie was made with as much attention to accurate detail as possible. We forget what amazing things NASA did while the computer age was still young. I have heard that you have more computerized technology in your iphone than they had on the entire Apollo 13 rocket. When things go bad, everyone starts grabbing for their slide rule or pad and pencil rather than a computer.
The mission begins with a sense of the ordinary. Space had become so familiar to the American public that hardly anyone watched the launce. With a sense of “everything is under control” and “everything will be fine,” three astronauts were blown into space and hurtled toward the moon with a business as usual feeling. Somewhere along the flight path, however, Jack Swigart, the backup commander for the mission, hit a switch to stir the fuel tanks and an explosion rocked the ship. Suddenly, business as usual turned into an amazing drama. As the crew turned the ship to return to earth they had no idea what was still functional and what was damaged beyond repair.
As the movie moves ahead, one thing after another becomes questionable and life threatening. Although they had enough oxygen the CO2 scrubber which took the carbon dioxide from the cabin atmosphere ceased to function. It had to be rebuilt from plastic bags and duct tape on board. Most of the battery power that would run their basic computers for reentry and deployment of the parachutes for the reentry capsule was lost. They had to turn off all heat and lights in the ship to preserve precious amps to operate the computers at the last moment.
In addition, there were serious questions about the reentry angle and the heat shield that would keep them from incinerating when they entered the earth’s atmosphere. No one knew the full extent of the damage from the explosion. As these three astronauts approach reentry the Houston control room begins to take on a sense of despair about their chances. All the families are huddled together at the Lovell home watching the news minute-by-minute and wondering if they would ever see their husband or father again.
When reentry occurred there was an expected three minutes of silence when no communication was possible. If they survived the flight; if they didn’t bounce off the earth’s atmosphere; if the heat shield was intact and the parachutes deployed they might survive. No one would know for three long minutes. After three minutes there was still no communication. Three minutes passed, three minutes thirty seconds passed, and the four-minute mark rolled by in silence. Families began to weep softly. The control room at Houston was silent with fear. And then unexpectedly, a voice crackled over the radio – “Houston, this is Odyssey.” In that moment hopelessness and despair exploded into triumph and joy.
As I watched, engineers and mathematicians in the control room jumped like children and cheered like fans at the Super bowl with tears drizzling down their cheeks. Families and friends erupted into hugs and joyful laughter.
At that moment, I thought how much like the Apollo 13 journey was Christ’s journey to the grave and back. As we watch Jesus and his followers at the end of the Passion Week, it seems that everything is going their way. The crowds have cheered Jesus into Jerusalem. He is gaining followers daily. The disciples are anticipating that he will soon establish the kingdom in power before their very eyes. But then thing things go bad. Betrayal. Arrest. A kangaroo court. The death sentence. Crucifixion. A dead Messiah placed in a tomb. The followers of the King of Israel are shattered and disbelieving what has happened. Fear and hopelessness settle over the apostles and other disciples. No one knows what to expect or what is coming. Those who speak, speak only in whispers.
Then suddenly, Jesus reenters and appears in their midst. He is alive and well. Life can go on. The mission can continue. As I watched the control room and the home where the families of the astronauts were gathered explode into triumph and joy, I thought how much that moment must have paralleled what that small group of believers felt in there hearts when Jesus appeared to them again. I wondered if even the angels had been holding their breath for three days wondering what would become of their king. It seems that in our worship and in moments of communion we should find that same triumph and joy in our hearts. Jesus faced every impossibility, weathered the storm, faced the fires of hell, and when we had all given up hope immerged the hero – our hero. Blessings.
