How a Rosebush Gave Me a Vision of Humanity's Journey

How a Rosebush Gave Me a Vision of Humanity's Journey

8:59

It was one of the hottest afternoons of the summer. Those who live in New Jersey know, we've had some unusually relentless heat recently, the kind of heat that causes you to make up imaginary words when you try to speak.

The flowers and plants in my yard suffered from it too. Wilting leaves and brown branches all around my porch made me sad whenever I approached my doorstep. No amount of watering seemed to help.

Yet beside my front door, almost unnoticed, two rosebuds were quietly preparing to bloom. There was something strangely hopeful about them.

Years of tending that rosebush, enriching its soil, cutting its dead branches, and watering it daily, was apparently making it resilient to the scorching summer.

A rose does not force itself open. It takes its time to ensure the conditions are right for it to bloom. Hidden beneath its tightly folded petals is a beauty waiting to be revealed. The flower eventually unfolds into what it was always meant to become, but it can't realize its full potential on its own. Its environment, and often a gardener, have to help it along.

This particular rosebush was a transplant from another garden. The year after I transplanted it, it struggled. But I didn't give up on it. Every spring I looked for signs of life, and every year I chose hope over disappointment. For several years, no roses bloomed on it. But I always believed in its potential.

So, watching those buds spring this year was a sign of hope for me. And that's what I need most right now: a sign of hope not just for my own life but for all of us. Perhaps that's what some of my readers need too. So, I'm offering this metaphor to help people see that humanity may stand at a moment similar to those nascent rose buds.

Despite all of the ongoing violence and decadence in the world, there are still signs of life peeking up from the broken landscape. In recent years, I've gotten the sense that people are starting to obtain a more positive outlook on our future, as we look to the stars again and dare to embrace new technologies.

Perhaps we are not witnessing the decline of civilization so much as the difficult season before a new flowering. Beneath the surface, countless seeds are taking root. New discoveries, renewed faith, timeless ideas rediscovered, works of beauty yet to be created, communities yearning for something deeper, and technologies that could liberate rather than diminish the human spirit—all are quietly waiting for just the right time to bloom.

Our age often measures progress by faster computers or more powerful machines. Those achievements certainly matter. But a civilization does not truly flourish just because its technology advances. It flourishes when the whole human person advances.

And perhaps that is why it has taken us this long to take our next step forward. Perhaps the Author of Life was waiting for our virtues to catch up with our ambitions. I'm not saying we're where we need to be just yet, but every step in the right direction comes with a hint of the possibilities on the horizon.

I don't know what human civilization will look like in the future, but I do know we need to dig deeper before we rise higher. A flower needs not only superficial water but also rich soil for its roots. In other worlds, to prosper, our civilization---whether it's the West or some hypothetical unified human civilization---must tend to the deeper needs of humans, not just those that brought prosperity in our modern utilitarian age.

We must cultivate wisdom alongside knowledge, virtue alongside freedom, beauty alongside efficiency, and families alongside businesses. In our search for truth, we ought to build cathedrals, not just laboratories. In our development of society, we should endorse holistic projects where farmers work with engineers. In the development of artificial intelligence, poets should work alongside programmers. In our observatories, labs, and research centers, the saints should guide the scientists. This kind of infusion of the past and present is the best way forward.

Technology should not replace our humanity. It should give humanity more room to become itself.

I want to share an image that may sound strange. As I looked at those rosebuds in my yard, I saw the Earth. What if the Earth itself is still only a bud in our solar system, and what if our solar system is like a rosebush in the vast Milky Way garden?

If humanity remains true to its roots in the humanities, its life will flourish. Then one day, the satellites that now circle our planet, the great orbital habitats yet to be built, the lunar settlements, the cities and gardens on Mars, and the countless works of human creativity extending into the heavens may resemble petals slowly unfolding from a single flower. The Earth would remain the living heart of that blossom—the place where life first took root—while humanity stretches outward, not in conquest, but in cultivation.

A flower does not abandon its roots when it blooms. Neither should we. The Earth may be the first place where the seed of Life took root and blossomed, and the whole solar system, galaxy and universe may one day be cultivated by that seed of Life that began on Earth.

Our future should never be about escaping the Earth, but fulfilling its purpose. The same God who placed Adam in a garden also commanded mankind to cultivate and steward creation. Perhaps our calling has always been larger than we imagined—not merely to inhabit one corner of creation, but to help bring the whole cosmos into a richer expression of goodness, truth, and beauty.

This is why I remain hopeful.

Perhaps humanity is still only beginning. Perhaps the blossom has not yet opened. The most beautiful petals may still be hiding in the stems of our society, or even still hiding as just nutrients in the soil of our civilization. In other words, our greatest accomplishments may just be the ideas and visions in the minds and hearts of each of us.

Rambling Spirit aims to cultivate a hopeful vision for humanity. That vision is not transhumanism or blind techno-optimism, but a sacramental vision of progress in which science, culture, faith, craftsmanship, exploration, truth, goodness, and beauty all contribute to human flourishing.

I want to invite readers on a journey of discovery where we will unlock the mysteries of human potential. Along the way, we will discover the indispensable role God plays in the ongoing creation and transformation of humanity. This is a transformation he is undergoing within each individual soul as well.

The communities we build, the worlds we imagine, the new frontiers we explore, the new technologies we invent, the new medical breakthroughs we discover, the architectural wonders we construct, and the culturally rich lifestyles we live are all different "petals" of the same rose. That rose, in a word, is Life itself. As St. Irenaeus said, the glory of God is man fully alive.

And Jesus himself said, "I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly" (see John 10:10).

Perhaps humanity is yet to bloom into that abundant life God intended for us from the beginning.

This article began with an observation from my own life and a vision that grew out of it. I used ChatGPT as a collaborative editor and writing partner to help refine and articulate the ideas. I then substantially revised and expanded the draft. The vision, arguments, and final editorial decisions are my own.

Featured image imagined with Chat GPT and Midjourney.