O come, O come, Emmanuel. Amen.
“Imagine there’s no heaven. It’s easy if you try.” John Lennon wrote those words from a religionless point of view. But to those of us inside the church, it really isn’t that hard to image there’s no heaven. You’ll recall that on the first Sunday of Advent, I mentioned that the word “eschatology” means “the last things.” And Advent has been a time that the Church has historically focused on the Four Last Things of death, judgment, heaven, and hell. But many have accused the modern Church of having a case of eschatological amnesia. In other words, we have forgotten our future. We have forgotten the end of things, and in that forgetfulness, we lose the meaning of the present.
Today, the third Sunday of Advent, is traditionally known as Gaudete Sunday; gaudete comes from the Latin for “rejoice,” which is the opening word the traditional introit for this Sunday. “Rejoice” is also found in both the readings from Isaiah and 1 Thessalonians, so though we don’t begin our worship with an introit, the theme remains in our liturgy. Gaudete Sunday is a “lighter” Sunday in our preparations for Christmas. That is why today we lit the rose colored candle. And so after considering the weighty topics of death and judgment for the first two weeks of Advent, today we focus on heaven and as we do so, we rejoice.
Now, you may think “Christians don’t imagine there is no heaven, we talk about it all the time.” And you’re right, heaven is a topic that often comes up in the Christian faith. But heaven is often thought of in a very sentimental way, with visions of clouds, harps, golden streets, and endless time to relax. Often, we think of heaven as what life would look like if we were fully in charge. Heaven is often conceived of as being version 2.0 of life. But that vision of heaven is rather fanciful and unbiblical, and as Lennon suggests, it’s not really all that hard to imagine that there isn’t that sort of heaven. That vision of heaven might be something we hope for, but as we all know, hope is fickle. Thankfully, heaven, as it is conceived by Christian faith, is more than a human hope, it is a divine promise of God which is something that we can count on and trust.
To be clear, we are all humans: finite and temporal. The notion of God is infinite and eternal. So whatever we can say about heaven will always be partial and flawed by the limits of human imagination, speech, and intellect. That doesn’t mean we have nothing to say about heaven, but we ought to hold onto these conceptualizations delicately.
We tend to view heaven either as a carrot or a stick, but it is neither. Heaven is the realm of God and Jesus promises that he will take us where he has gone on ahead of us. If heaven is a reward for our actions or beliefs, then God is little more than Santa Claus, making a list and checking it twice and giving coal to those who are naughty instead of nice. And, sadly, that is how heaven and God are often interpreted.
In Scripture, heaven isn’t a place as much as it is a reality; salvation isn’t something that always lies in front of us, but is something that exists around us. It’s why Jesus said “The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact, the kingdom is among you.” As John the Baptist prepares the way of the Lord, he announces “the Kingdom of heaven has come near.” This is what we pray when we ask that “thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.” And this is what the prophet Isaiah has in mind in today’s passage that we heard. Isaiah isn’t saying “Now just sit tight and one day when you’re dead, you’ll be free from bad things.”
No, Isaiah envisions the promises of God’s salvation as being realized on earth as they are in heaven. And so he writes that the Lord has sent him to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” The idea of heaven is a wonderful promise that reminds us that oppression does not last forever and that suffering will come to an end. But it’s bad and dangerous theology to say that earth is where humans exist and heaven is where God exists, making salvation only possible elsewhere.
I’ve shared before this line from the poet Elizabeth Barret Browning, but it’s worth sharing again as we consider heaven: “Earth’s crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God; but only he who sees, takes off his shoes, the rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.” Heaven doesn’t lie ahead of us, but as Jesus has told us, heaven is among us. As Isaiah prophesies, the salvation of God exists here and now, even if it is not fully revealed until the end of all things. Isaiah tells us that God gives those who mourn a garland, the sign of victory, instead of ashes, the sign of grieving. We will be called the “oaks of righteousness,” where God’s glory will be on display. We are clothed resplendently with the garments of salvation and are given a robe of righteousness.
Heaven is not a reward for good behavior because heaven exists not only ahead of us in time, but also around us in space. The phrase “heaven on earth” points to the fact that we intuitively know this. Moments of indescribable joy, bliss, and peace that remind us of what is beautiful and true point us towards heaven. Think of the parables of Jesus as further evidence. When Jesus speaks of the Kingdom of heaven, he doesn’t lecture us on transcendental planes of existence or eternal states of being. No, Jesus speaks of the Kingdom of heaven in very tangible ways – it’s like a woman who finds a lost coin, it’s like a bit of yeast that leavens the whole batch of dough, it’s like a wedding reception, it’s like a pearl of great value. The fact that Jesus spoke of heaven in very present ways should tell us that heaven can be experienced in very present ways.
This is the piece that we so often miss when we think about heaven. The world is so full of distractions that keep us from missing heaven as it exists all around us. If we don’t notice heaven around us, it will, indeed, be easy to imagine there’s no heaven, you won’t even need to try. This is why being a part of the Church is so important, as it teaches us how to recognize heaven and attunes us to God. Ideally, the Christian community shows glimpses of heaven to each other. We help each other to speak the language of heaven, the language of forgiveness, of unity, of compassion.
The liturgies of the Church orient us towards a heavenly vision. One of the things that we do really well at St. Luke’s, based on our Anglican heritage, is to provide beautiful liturgies. When we had a beautiful liturgy of the Advent Procession and Carols a few weeks ago, I noticed more than a few people with tears in their eye afterward. This beauty is a sign of the ultimate beauty of heaven. Sometimes you’ll hear a heavenly vision describes as a beatific vision, and it’s no accident that beauty and beatific are related. So regularly committing to coming to worship weekly not only gives you a glimpse of heaven, but it trains you to notice it more often all around you.
The nearness of heaven needs to be reclaimed in our theological imagination and our interpreting of the world around us. While at the same time, we hold fast to the promise that heaven is the realm where God’s being is perfectly known and where we will find our culmination in the love of God. We don’t need to worry about imagining that there’s no heaven because God promises us that we will be with God. Questions like where, when, how, what, and why are beyond our ability to grasp on this side of eternity, but the promise remains. We shall find rest from our labors, we will find that suffering is not eternal, we will enter into the peace of God that passes all understanding, we will be fully united with God and all those whom God loves (which, by the way, is everyone). This isn’t wishful thinking nor is it a human hope. It is the promise of God.
Advent prepares us to celebrate Christmas, and Christmas is the foretaste of this. When God came to us in Jesus we were shown how deeply and fully God loves us and desires to be with us. And so heaven is being fully with God as God came to be fully with us. Because Jesus has come, heaven came with him. And because Jesus has come, he will take us with him to heaven.
As this present salvation of God, which foreshadows the final salvation of all things, is experienced, Isaiah proclaims “I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my whole being shall exult in my God.” The joy of heaven reshapes us, as our whole being exults in this salvation of God. Having a beatifically orientated vision fill us with hope, gives us joy, and makes us rejoice. Focusing on heaven in Advent as we consider these Last Things is so important in preparing ourselves for the gift of Christ’s coming on Christmas. As we remember that the trajectory of all creation is towards heaven, the realm of God’s justice, peace, and love, we both experience the joys of this heavenly bliss here and now as we also anticipate the promise of things being as they are in heaven.
What we are about to celebrate in the Holy Eucharist is a wonderful and majestic symbol for heaven. The jubilation of this sacred meal is rooted in the infinite and eternal mercy of God. And so as you receive the bread of heaven and cup of salvation, receive them as a glimpse of heaven on earth – of being fed, of being loved, of being united with those around you, of being at peace. And also receive them as tokens of God’s heavenly promise to always be with you and to always love you. Thanks be to God that because of the Eucharist, we don’t have to ever imagine that there’s no heaven; therefore, let us keep the feast.
