Does heaven matter?
Sun Jul 06, 2008 at 12:54:11 PM PDT
My father's physician called this past week to let me know that, in her opinion, Dad has but a few days to live. She peppered her talk with religious allusions and references, perhaps because she knows Dad is a retired pastor. Toward the end, when she could tell that my grief was starting to overtake my ability to converse, she said, "Of course, if you're a Christian, you know this isn't the end. You'll be together in Heaven." It struck me that her tone was more like she was scolding me for my grief than trying to offer me comfort, but I let it slide -- being, as I was, preoccupied with thoughts of my father. Three days have passed, though, and her words continue to ring in my ears. It's not a good sound.
More below...
Let me count the ways in which I find her comment less than appropriate.
1. The prospect of a reunion in heaven in no way diminishes the pain of losing a loved one, at least not for me. My waves of uncontrollable sorrow are for what I am losing here and now. Odds are I'll live another 25 or 30 years, and the place that Dad fills in my life right now will remain empty for each of those years. That's a loss beyond measure attended by a pain beyond description. The notion that I'll see him again in 30 years changes none of that.
2. The prospect of a reunion in heaven in no way renders grief inappropriate. To my ear, she's making a very strange religious assertion -- one that sounds more like a cover for a heart of stone than actual theology. If she really was implying that people should feel guilty for feeling the pain of grief, she's so cruel her words rise to the level of "sinful" in my book.
3. The prospect of a reunion in heaven in no way diminishes the healing powers of grieving. If, indeed, she was implying that it does, this physician has managed to learn about the human body without learning anything about human beings.
4. I bristle at her words "Of course, if you're a Christian..." because there are precious few things you can say after that phrase that are true. Belief in heaven is not universal among Christians. So far as I know, belief in heaven isn't a requirement for being a Christian.
What's more, we can't even agree on what it means when we use the word "heaven," as this ABC News poll shows: Among American Christians there's roughly a 20-80 split over whether heaven is a physical place or spiritual only (spiritual being the 80%). That same poll, by the way, shows that even among "Evangelicals" belief in heaven is not held by 100%.
The physician's assumption that her particular belief is the de facto, perhaps required, belief of all Christians reveals both an arrogance and an ignorance with which I grow weary. More often we hear it -- from the media, from pundits, from culture warriors on the Right and from regular folks who've been taught the fallacy -- about abortion, gay rights, sex education and conservatism in general. "Christian" in the prevailing script means "anti-choice, anti-gay, anti-sex education and pro-conservatism." The script is wrong.
The diversity of thought and belief under the banner of "Christian" is as ignored as it is ancient. The early church, right after the first Easter, was a loosely knit fabric of widely divergent groups often in strong disagreement. Although that's still true, we Americans seem to prefer to pretend otherwise.
5. Heaven doesn't matter to me. My father and I are both passionate in our spiritual lives. We both see God revealed in Christ, and we're both drawn inexorably into the love offered by God through Christ. We love to worship, sing and pray together, but beyond that the link of God-Christ-Love, we agree on very little. It is, nevertheless, enough to define us -- and bond us -- as Christians.
In my Christian spiritual life the existence and nature of heaven are simply irrelevant. Whatever will be, will be. I'll find out about it -- or not -- when I die. The promise of heaven does not make me try to be a better person or a better Christian. I don't need a carrot for that. Same for the threat of hell. I don't need a stick, either.
Come to think of it, what's irrelevant to my spiritual life is the future. What's meaningful and rewarding to me is my experience of God right here and right now. Heaven can wait.