John 11:32-44
Rev. 21:1-6
“What is heaven like?” They said it in unison – just as the pastor walked in the door.
They were two daughters, and they were standing at their mother’s bedside. 99 years old. And this was their question. “What is heaven like?”
Well – what would the pastor say?
What could the pastor say?
To be truthful, there is not much description of heaven in the Bible. There are a few images in the Revelation of the saints worshipping at the throne of the Lamb, and the one who will wipe away every tear from our lives.
There is the apostle Paul, struggling to describe our resurrected bodies, which will be bodies, but imperishable, immortal, changed – in the twinkling of an eye.
There is Paul’s conviction that if we hope for this life ONLY, we are most to be pitied. There is more to life than this life.
But about heaven – we do not know much. So what would the pastor say? “What is heaven like?”
Well, she said, finally, I think heaven is like a great banquet -- -like those holiday meals that we get together for – when everyone is happy to see each other – and no one is fighting – and there is a place for everyone at the table – and there is enough for everyone, too.
And then the sisters remembered the holiday meals in their own family, at Christmas or Thanksgiving or at Easter.
They remembered the feasts and the fancy tablecloths, and the care their mother took to welcome everyone home.
And they remembered with hope – hope for their mother and hope for themselves. When someone you love is dying, you need to have something to hope for.
And that is part of what All Saints Day is about. It is about the hope of the saints – our hope. “What is heaven like? What do you hope for?”
In a book by Barbara Kingsolver, “Animal Dreams”, two sisters are separated when one of them decides to go to Nicaragua to live and work.
Her sister can’t understand her decision – thinks she’s crazy.
In one of her letters home, she tries to explain. She writes:
“The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope.
Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof. What I want is so simple I almost can’t say it: elementary kindness. Enough to eat, enough to go around…. That’s about it.
Right now I’m living inside that hope, running down its hallway and touching the walls on both sides. I can’t tell you how good it feels.”
That’s it. The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for.
What do you hope for?
Eternal life -- The hope of the saints –– but what does that mean? “What is heaven like?”
And what does it mean to live inside this hope every single day – while we live?
When I think about the gospel for today – and the hope of Mary and Martha – I first think of Mary’s words, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
Their hope is for their brother’s life – their hope is they not be separated.
Their hope is to sit down once more at the table with him, eating and talking and sharing – life. Life.
That’s the hope of the saints – is that life – goes on – and that we share it together with those we love.
It is the question from the old gospel song, “Will the circle be unbroken?” and the hope that the answer is a resounding “No!”
The hope of the saints -- is the hope that life, not death will have the last word, hope that we will be together – again –to sit at the table and eat and talk and share.
The hope of the saints is the hope of the great reunion, where death and crying and pain will be no more and where we will be together – again.
I can’t help thinking right now about Oscar Romero – who was martyred back in El Salvador in 1980 but who just became a saint.
He was murdered while he was saying Mass in a small chapel.
He had not been a radical priest by any means.
He was quiet and bookish, and he had a deeply traditional faith. When someone told him that there were two churches – the church of the poor and the church of the rich, he answered,
“No, there is only one church, the church which Christ preached, the church which adores the living God.”
“Will the circle be unbroken?”
But he loved the people, the poor who were hungry, those who were longing to be free.
And so he spoke on behalf of them, spoke up for the violence to stop, spoke on behalf of their hunger.
Because the hope of the saints is not just for that great reunion after we die.
The hope of the saints is also for a reconciliation of all the things that divide us.
It is the vision of the reunion of the living and the dead, the rich and the poor, the privileged and the outcast.
What is heaven like?
It is a great reunion, where death will be no more. It is the unbroken circle with those we love.
It is the banquet table where there will be enough, where we will sit down and eat and share.
It is the unbroken circle with those God loves. And it is wider than we imagine.
Once in awhile we catch a glimpse of it.
I remember once long ago – we went up to a concert where someone we loved was playing in a band.
We went up to hear him pay even though the event he was playing was somewhat unusual: a tattoo convention.
I remember wandering around the smoke-filled room, hearing the bands, watching people get tattoos, and thinking, “these are not my people.”
And then as soon as I had that thought, I saw a display, “Bikers for Jesus.” and I thought, “hmmm. Maybe they Are my people.”
“What is heaven like?”
Close your eyes and imagine the banquet table, the great reunion, that the circle is unbroken.
Mary and Martha and their brother Lazarus, Oscar Romero the poor of El Salvador, bikers for Jesus, your father, your uncle, your son – people you love, people you don’t know, people you don't love, friends, strangers, all, beloved by God.
A place for everyone. And there is enough.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it.
“What is heaven like?”
Amen
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