Whose eternity is it, anyway?

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Whose eternity is it, anyway?

A meditation on heaven, hell and the unsettling possibility that paradise for one person would be torment for another.

By Morf Morford | FāVS News Columnist

The views expressed in this opinion column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the views of FāVS News. 

Theology has been described as the study of what can never be known. Or confirmed. Or defined.

We humans have gone to war, lost friendships and driven ourselves into fear and nervous breakdowns over something none of us has ever seen or touched.

A standard premise of “polite” conversation is to avoid religion and politics.

I, on the other hand, bring them up continually.

I mention them because they matter — or, more accurately, because we make them matter, which is arguably the opposite of why they exist in the first place.

When politics and religion join forces

Politics, originally at least, was not about grandstanding, self-promotion and personal profiteering; it was intended to establish laws and order so typical people could conduct their business and live their lives without intrusion or disruption.

Religion was meant to comfort people in their difficult times — like death or loss — and give them hope, support, meaning and courage for another day or season.

In some areas, I have heard, it still does.

But current religion and politics are far from encouraging or soothing. In fact, both tend to be antagonizing, isolating and disruptive.

It would be easy to argue that politics and religion have instigated more death, destruction and war than any other belief system. Even imperialistic conquest and enslavement have their limits. Invasions or crusades, “with God on our side,” have no such restraints.

Each system has done great damage to humanity, civilization and the Earth itself. But when they join forces, as they have a few times in history, no prophet, poet or dreamer is safe. No dissenter, creator or independent thinker is safe. When those who control the sword also believe they control our souls, no one is safe.

But no matter how atrocious or blessed religion or politics might be, eternity — what waits for us after our final breath — lies beyond our field of vision, far past our level of understanding.

I must admit I like, and appreciate, the ultimate aspect of eternity: no one knows. We may hope, fear, believe or live our lives in terror of what awaits us, but the bottom line is simple and irrefutable — no one knows what waits for each of us.

It might be silence, or paradise, or a time of retribution and regret. Many traditions speak of spirits haunted by unresolved earthly experiences. Others speak of restoration and peace. Perhaps eternity is the ultimate “reflection pool,” where we see our unmediated motives, words, attitudes and actions as the powerful tools — and weapons — they always were.

My wife’s heaven, my hell

My wife and I have almost opposite views of what eternity might be. She sees it as something like an all-inclusive cruise, with every need anticipated and provided for — no worries, no anxieties, no obligations, no hazards, no pain, no burdens. No challenges. No serendipities. No surprises.

Perhaps this is just my inner contrarian speaking, but that sounds like hell to me. A consciousness without the friction of the new, surprising and challenging seems empty beyond comprehension. Is eternity where learning stops? Or is it the place — and time — where we finally learn what matters most?

Could it be that existence and consciousness are contextual, more than individual — that eternity, even “salvation,” might not be so different from person to person? Could one person’s “hell” be another person’s “heaven”?

Hell is usually portrayed as a place of eternal punishment, alienation and shame. Heaven is a place of welcome and commendation — and, perhaps most of all, reunion with our loved ones.

But what of those we don’t love? What of the bullies and abusers we’ve known in our physical lives? If they became “saved,” we might see them in our eternity, no matter how vile or tortured our relationship with them was. My bias is that some people — especially those who delighted in cruelty, torture and oppression — should never share my “eternity” or anywhere positive, whatever they claim to believe. Some people have proven, over and over, their contempt for others, for creation and, sometimes, for themselves — and many have “declared” their faith precisely to avoid the consequences of their own choices. Do they get a free pass? Do — or should — any of us get what we deserve?

Eternity as punishment or paradise is one thing, but the other crucial question is who will be there with us. I have always pictured my version of eternity filled with interesting historical characters from across uncountable eras and cultures — captivating conversations, perhaps in multiple languages, on wide-ranging topics, like the ultimate late-night dorm-room talk, except with those who knew, discovered and invented astounding things.

An eternity suited to who we are

Some insist paradise must be a place where each of us is forever young and healthy — no disabilities in heaven. But what of those who find themselves, in this life, defined by what we call their disabilities? Would a blind person find themselves liberated by renewed vision — or disoriented, no longer the person they had been their whole life? Or what of the shrewish, complaining fault-finder — would they complain in paradise? No matter how “righteous” they might be, they would hate paradise, precisely because hating and complaining is what they do, and who they are.

In other words, no matter our theology, some people are just more suited for one eternity than the other. I can see why theology makes people crazy — and leads us into wars and neurosis.

The Dunning-Kruger effect — which holds that those with the least knowledge have the most confidence — is startlingly true in religion and politics. Those who seem to know or care the least about governance imagine themselves ideal leaders, usually for life. And those who would judge and condemn us all, gleefully sending us to eternal torture, are all too often the least godly, compassionate, generous or kind of all — preaching a god as cruel, vindictive and shallow as they are, convinced that their words, not their example, will terrify us into heaven.

But if heaven is their domain — if we’d spend eternity with them for reciting their magic words and following their salvation formula — I would, by far, choose the alternative.

Who would any of us prefer to spend eternity with? Who knows how much choice we’ll truly have, but I’m convinced that if we spend eternity with others, it will be those much — perhaps too much — like ourselves. For some, that would be heaven. For others, the ultimate hell.

And if that’s what we’ll experience, perhaps there is such a thing as divine justice.

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