Preachers in Heaven?

“God himself will be with them;

he will wipe away every tear from their eye.”

–Revelation 21:3

On the church calendar November 1 is designated as All Saints Day.  In many congregations, it is the occasion when, during a worship service, we will remember by name the individuals who have died during the previous twelve months.  It’s a powerful moment of recalling the impact of loved ones who are at rest. It is also an occasion when one’s thoughts naturally turn to what awaits us when this life ends, too.  On that score, all kinds of ideas exist.  

A former parishioner told me the true story of two children sitting on the front porch talking with one another. Their conversation was overheard by an adult inside the house. The boy and girl were first cousins, but had more in common than biological connection as the boy’s mother had died at a young age and the girl’s father had also passed far too young. When the children learned that shared fact about the other, the boy said to his cousin “Wouldn’t it be something if your father and my mother met in heaven and got married?”  “I don’t think that’s possible,” the girl replied. “Oh, that’s right,” the boy immediately answered, “there won’t be any preachers in heaven will there?”

While I have always preferred to interpret his words to mean there won’t be any vocations in heaven, none of us will actually know until we breathe our last. Still, the subject of heaven has always been one of great fascination and pondering.   

There are many Biblical passages that give us partial clues. 

Both Jesus and the Apostle Paul spoke of heaven using the image of a physical structure. “In my father’s house,” God’s son told the first disciples “there are many dwelling places” before promising to prepare a place for them. Paul used similar language in writing “We have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” (2 Corinthians 5:1)

Both the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures speak of a transformed existence in heaven. “In your presence there is fullness of joy,” the Psalmist exclaimed, “in your right hands are pleasures forevermore.” (Psalm 16:11). “No more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of distress,” the prophet Isaiah added. “No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime. “ (65:20) The Revelation of John confirms a pain-free realm: “Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more.” (21:4) 

In addition, the Bible records that Paul was given a glimpse of heaven, but forbidden to share what he heard there (2 Corinthians 12:1-4). Still, he did tell the church in Philippi what we will look like. “[God] will transform the body of our humiliation,” he wrote “so that it may be conformed to the body of his glory.” (Philippians 3:21)  And the Book of Revelation is the source for descriptions of heaven found in popular discourse: streets of gold and foundations adorned with jewels, gates of pearl and a crystal river, the tree of life and the throne of God (21:19-21 and 22:1-2)

The fact it takes so many different voices and books to give a more complete picture of heaven reveals how the eternal realm defies simple description. Together, though, all of those passages speak of a kind of existence totally unlike anything we have yet known. A space where all hurt and loss comes to an end; a realm where we enjoy the eternal presence of God and Jesus. Heard as one those descriptions provide comfort on All Saints Day and the other occasions, too, when we remember loved ones who are no longer with us. They offer motivation for you and me to keep joining hands in making this world incrementally more like the one that awaits.   

And personally, I am also happy to confirm the absence of any Biblical reference specifying the exclusion of preachers. Thus, I will continue to hope for a glorious eternity, too!

My Journey’s End, no one knows the precise instant when death steals their last breath, when the heart that beats steadily ceases its rhythmic functioning. Whenever this moment arrives you will be ready to welcome us, your faithful love sweeping us away into another sphere of existence. Your radiance intertwined with ours, assuring us there is no need to fear.  Amen  (Karl Rahner in Rupp, Joyce, Fragments of Your Ancient Name Notre Dame: Sorin Books, 2011)