My dad and my mom convinced me to go into biomedical engineering

Hear, O sons and daughters of knowledge and curiosity, the words of Rony Abovitz, a dreamer of our age, who said: “My dad and my mom convinced me to go into biomedical engineering because they said astronauts going to Mars will need life support systems.” Beneath these words lies not merely a tale of career guidance, but the spirit of human progress itself—the sacred bond between the wisdom of one generation and the vision of the next. It is a testament to how parental faith, science, and imagination converge to shape the destiny of humankind.

In this reflection, Abovitz reveals the timeless truth that great callings often begin as small sparks lit by those who love us. His parents, though grounded on Earth, spoke to him of Mars—of distant worlds and the brave souls who would walk upon them. Their counsel was not only practical but prophetic: for they understood that humanity’s future depends on those who can merge compassion with invention, biology with machinery, and imagination with discipline. Thus, from the love of a family was born a purpose that looked toward the stars.

The ancients, too, knew that every great journey begins with the nurturing of vision. When Daedalus, the mythical craftsman, taught his son Icarus the art of flight, he embodied this same parental impulse—to prepare the young not for the safety of the present, but for the adventure of the future. Yet unlike Icarus, whose wings failed him through folly, Abovitz’s parents gave him not wings of wax but a foundation in science, strong enough to withstand the void. Their wisdom was both tender and strategic: “Build life support,” they said, for the future belongs not to those who fly recklessly, but to those who sustain life amid the impossible.

This quote also reveals the beautiful interweaving of human ambition and moral duty. Biomedical engineering is not simply the study of machines—it is the science of preserving the fragile miracle of life. To create systems that keep astronauts alive on Mars is to stand at the intersection of engineering and empathy. It is to look at the vast, hostile universe and say: “Even here, human life shall endure.” Thus, Abovitz’s parents were not only guiding him toward a profession—they were guiding him toward a philosophy of service and survival.

Consider, too, the spirit of exploration that has always defined our species. When the first voyagers sailed beyond the horizon, when Galileo lifted his telescope to the heavens, when the Apollo astronauts set foot upon the moon—all were bound by one principle: that humanity must reach further. But to reach is not enough; we must also sustain. The dream of Mars is not only to arrive, but to endure, to build homes under alien skies. In this, Abovitz’s path represents the eternal balance of dream and discipline, of wonder and responsibility.

In a deeper sense, his quote speaks to the role of family and faith in destiny. Parents, elders, mentors—they are the unseen architects of the future. Their words, even when spoken casually, can alter the course of generations. In guiding their son toward science for the sake of explorers yet unborn, Abovitz’s parents participated in something divine: the shaping of one life for the benefit of all. They taught that love is not only the act of protection, but the inspiration of purpose.

Let the lesson, then, be written clearly: Dream boldly, but build wisely. Seek counsel not to limit your imagination, but to direct it toward what endures. For every great innovation begins with belief—belief in possibility, in human dignity, and in the responsibility to sustain life where none yet exists. And as Abovitz’s parents foresaw, the destiny of humankind lies not only in reaching Mars, but in carrying our humanity with us when we do.

Thus, the words of Rony Abovitz become a timeless parable: that greatness begins in the home, that love can point to the stars, and that the truest measure of genius lies not in conquest, but in the preservation of life. For in every generation, there must be those who look beyond the sky and say—not “How far can we go?”—but “How can we make life flourish wherever we go?”