A History of Heaven

Lisa Miller writes on the history of different perceptions about heaven in her recent headline article for Time Magazine.  She outlines the Jewish perspective of the afterlife pretty straightforwardly.  Ancient Jews believed heaven was the dwelling place of the divine.  It is where God is.  The dead were in “sheol,” the grave.  The great (and unique) Jewish hope was not in our immaterial souls floating above the clouds after death.  The Jewish hope instead was in a cataclysmic divine intervention on earth at the end of time, where ultimately the righteous would be raised from the dead.  And then a new order of justice and glory would begin.  In a word, Jewish hope was in a resurrection –bodily resurrection.

I was expecting the article to follow mainline scholarship by saying it was the Greeks that introduced the concept of heaven as a dwelling place for immaterial souls into the Jewish/Christian mind.  And in a way, the article did.  But the historical recounting at this point took a very unexpected turn.  It was a late Jewish prophet, she says, that turned the tables.  It was “second Daniel.”  The writer of Daniel chapter twelve; a Jew, she says, who was living in 2^nd century BC during the time of the Greek Seleucids.  Encouraging his people to a hope beyond, this Daniel says, “And many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life , and some to shame and everlasting contempt.  And those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky above; and those who turn many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever” (Daniel 12:2-3).  Miller writes, “The words he wrote would change forever the way people imagined their immortal souls… With this verse, Daniel gave us heaven” (pg. 21).

Huh?

This is probably one of the clearest verses talking about resurrection.   The only reference to the heavens (skies) is that the righteous will shine like some of the objects of heaven.  And I am even more befuddled where she is getting “immortal souls” here.  It’s all about the dead (those asleep) being raised and awakened from the dust.  Dust alludes to the creation of Adam, the dust of our bodies, the dust that God breathed life into (Genesis 2:7), dust that eventually is buried in the grave.  And if people are awakening from the grave, this is bodily resurrection.  Of course, in other places the Old Testament alludes to the fact of immaterial souls, but it’s not talking about that here.  And it certainly is not being invented for the first time here!

Further disastrous, Miller starts to read Jesus’ statements about the “kingdom of heaven” under this new rubric.  And she writes as if Jesus just inherited this new heavenly vision straight from her perceived Danielic invention.  But of course, this rubric will have difficulty understanding some of Jesus’ other words on the kingdom of heaven –like ‘the kingdom is in the midst of you’  …and so Miller is forced to say Jesus’ words on heaven are often “cryptic.”  Instead, it just shows that her rubric is too narrow.  It does not have the legs to explain Jesus’ true understanding of the ‘kingdom of heaven,’ not to mention the broader Jewish vision of it.  It’s a view that was destined to hit the skids from the beginning –when she forgot that biblical heaven is really where God is.

Hinduism and the Inescapable Self

Below are some previous thoughts on an eastern worldview that is beginning to have widespread impact in America:  (Note “ontology” and “metaphysics,” as it is used here, means your view about what truly exists in the world.)

One of the most emphasized themes of The Bhagavad Gita (a Hindu holy scripture) is that all action should be engaged in without any attachment to results.  One should not do something for the sake of ‘reward’ or for the sake of some ‘fruit’ that should come from it.  Krishna says, “The awakened sages are free from the anxiety of results… free from expectations and all sense of possession…” (Bhagavad Gita [trans. Easwaran], 68).  The goal of such action is not merely turning away from selfishness per se (although that is part of it), but rather to eclipse the mind into a world that is beyond karma, beyond this world.   

But this is where the dynamic of action gets interesting.  Equally emphasized but in a wholly different direction, Krishna actually has very specific fruits, rewards, goals, and results, that one should set his mind toward (in his actions).  For instance, ones actions are to be for the sake of the welfare of others (BG, 77), for the sake of self-purification (BG, 96), for Krishna’s sake (BG, 78, 106, 157), and even for the sake of self-realization (BG, 98, 118).  Here of course, this does not sound like a philosophy of action devoid of goal-directedness.  So the natural qualification that some would make, is that it is the selfish results and rewards that are really what Krishna is advising against.  Of course, this is now a step back from the stronger claim of purifying one’s mind from any results –which seems to be at the heart of the Bhagavad Gita.  But, second, even granting that qualification, what is a system of action that denounces ‘selfish’ goals, but commands its adherents to remember “Self-realization is the only goal…”? (BG, 98). How would we measure a teaching which says never act for your own sake and then says “work with body, mind, and sense for the sake of self-purification?” (BG, 96).  The self permeates the nature of action here because the self permeates Hindu metaphysics.  It cannot escape it.  It is a worldview that cannot build a genuinely consistent altruistic system –by its very nature– until it abandons a self-permeated ontology.

Fear or Something More

I overheard a conversation between management a few weeks ago that went something like this: 

“Who is doing boxes?”

“Joe Shmo is on box crew.  He's right over there.”

After the big boss glances over, he comments right back, “It doesn't look like he's working very hard.”

With a smile, the low-level supervisor replies, “Do we have any employees that work hard?  We just let the seasonal employees go!” he said almost laughing.

Now to anyone that works with me this is not terribly surprising.  The implication is that when one becomes a regular worker (and not a new or seasonal employee) there is little reason to work at the highest level.  It's like a teacher becoming tenured.  Fear makes a person work hard.  Less fear, less motivation.  No fear, no motivation.

Now I want us to step back from the employment context and think about how this principle is actually deeply saturated in almost every context of our culture –actually, more accurately, our global context.  Lets take geo-politics.  Why should Iran or North Korea listen to the UN's demands?  Answer: sanctions.  Fear of economic paralysis.  Why did America pull back from Vietnam?  Mounting casualties began to outweigh political utility.  Fear, this fear, turned the tide of public sentiment and the political powers that be.

Fear is also the machine behind most ethical impulses.  Why not sleep around on your spouse?  Well, it might destroy your marriage, your family, your career, your reputation, etc.  Fear of massive relational disintegration.  Why do I go to the dentist?  Or the gym?  Why do I obey my father or my 1st grade teacher, or obey law enforcement?  Why do I strive for good grades in school?  Why do I pay my bills on time or save money for a rainy day?  Fear.  Its the perennial motivator.

Actually an interesting side note on the ethics aspect.  I have witnessed many minor accidents and fender-benders over the years in my parking lot.  So what motivates a person to take responsibility for his actions?  Well, sadly, I have never once seen someone accidentally damage a parked car and take responsibility for it simply because it was the right thing to do.  But I have witnessed at least a dozen accidents where a parked car was damaged, and the person responsible was ready to scoot away quickly until they were told they need to leave a note.  I had one person shrug off my suggestion, until I told him we have a picture of his license plate and it will probably be worse if it becomes a hit-and-run.  Fear.  It's the great (and sometimes only) motivator.

Is this how it should be?  Parenting gives us one of the best examples of how fear is properly interwoven into motivation.  As a parent you want your young child to share, not because they are afraid of your displeasure, but ultimately because they will actually enjoy sharing and will want others to share with them.  So what do parents typically do?  Do they say: “Okay little Johnny, only share when you actually enjoy it”...?  (...since that's what I ultimately want for you).  No, at least the good parents don't.  Parents tell them they must share.  And as they begin to share, simply because they must (fear), then typically they will start to see its value down the road.  Fear brings boundaries to our lives.  Ideally, however, we were meant to live and enjoy life without needing the boundaries –without fear.  We're supposed to do the right thing, because its the right thing.  We're supposed to be faithful to our spouses, because we love them.  We're supposed to go to the dentist or the gym because there is something intrinsically valuable about health. 

But, of course, we don't live in an ideal world.  Fear is a necessity –because of our depravity.  We need boundaries because we are so prone to go beyond them.  But the big question I want to ask is: what happens when you live within the boundaries simply because you love it and enjoy it?  What happens when you work your tail off at work, when you have no other reason to?  What happens when your honesty on your taxes has nothing to do with getting audited?  What happens when you love purity because its beautiful, not because God might be watching?  Well, what happens is people start asking questions.  A world engulfed in an ocean of fear, gets confused when others march to another beat.  You become an anomaly that needs to be explained. 

So now the question is, what beat do you march to?

Fairy Tales and Freedom

George MacDonald writes, in one of his short stories called The Castle, A Parable, some of the most profound words on freedom.  He tells about a previously rebellious young boy whose new perspective on life has actually given him a new perspective in his previous love for astronomy and more importantly a new perspective on freedom:

George MacDonald

“But now he was diligent from morning till night in the study of the laws of the truth that has to do with stars; and when the curtain of the sun-light was about to rise from before the heavenly worlds which it had hidden all day long, he might be seen preparing his instruments with that solemn countenance with which it becometh one to look into the mysterious harmonies of Nature.  Now he learned what law and order and truth are, what consent and harmony mean; how the individual may find his own end in a higher end, where law and freedom mean the same thing, and the purest certainty exists without the slightest constraint.  Thus he stood on the earth and looked to the heavens.”

His brothers and sisters, coming out of their collective rebellion, learned the same paradoxical freedom:

“By degrees, everything fell into the regularity of subordination.  With the subordination came increase of freedom.”

Our culture does not even have a category for this type of amazing freedom.  Isn't subordination supposed to be the opposite of freedom!  Not for MacDonald.  And not for the classic stream of thought prior to 18th century.  And not for me.