For two centuries and longer, humankind has been on a collision course with the limits of the Earth. The inertial momentum—the scale and velocity of the human enterprise—has grown so rapidly since the mid-20th century that virtually every indicator of planetary health is in decline (McNeill, 2000). Even an otherwise self-characterized “optimistic” analysis concludes that: . . . The momentum toward an unsustainable future can be reversed, but only with great difficulty. [The reversal] assumes fundamental shifts in desired lifestyles, values and technology. Yet, even under these assumptions, it takes many decades to realign human activity with a healthy environment, make poverty obsolete, and ameliorate the deep fissures that divide people. Some climate change is irrevocable, water stress will persist in many places, extinct species will not return, and lives will be lost to deprivation. (Raskin et al., 2002, pp. 94–95) . . . Considerably less optimistic, Thomas Berry concludes that “It is already determined that our children and grandchildren will live amid the ruined infrastructures of the industrial world and amid the ruins of the natural world itself ” (2006, p. 95). James Lovelock’s view is even darker: “the acceleration of the climate change now under way will sweep away the comfortable environment to which we are adapted . . . . [There is evidence of ] an imminent shift in our climate towards one that could easily be described as Hell” (2006, pp. 7, 147; The Vanishing Face of Gaia, 2009). Given such dire predictions, theologian Jack Miles, author of A History of God (2000), suggests that we begin to ponder the possibility that “the effort to produce a sustainable society has definitively failed . . . that we are irreversibly en route to extinction.” Alan Weisman, in a striking exercise of journalistic imagination, describes in The World Without Us how our infrastructure would then crumble, collapse, and finally disappear (2007). These are only a few of the recent musings about the human prospect.