Advent is not only a time to prepare for Christmas: it is also a time to reflect on the Four Last Things (Death, Judgement, Hell, and Heaven) as I have done these past few weeks. I hope you’ve found these meditations helpful. And with only a few days until the Big One, I want to wish you all a Merry Christmas!
The Four Last Things: Heaven
St Francis de Sales: On Paradise
These past few months, I’ve found myself missing an old job I had during the COVID-19 pandemic. I worked in after sales/order fulfilment at a major retail store. I loved it. During the lockdowns, my department practically take over the whole business, as you might expect, and while my role was nothing special (I was your average worker bee), the lockdowns required us regular co-workers to take on more of a leadership role, and so I became something of a troubleshooter when things went wrong. The size of our new operation required the help of co-workers from other departments; so on top of the difficulties that came from COVID, there was a learning curve that resulted in things going wrong fairly regularly. It was stressful, but everyday was fresh: there were no more average days. I enjoyed the challenge, the responsibility, and the variety—no matter that it was frustrating! But looking back, it was more than an enjoyment: I was addicted to the problems—I even relished in them—because it would temporarily satiate my restlessness, and would take me away from the tranquility of my ordinary workday.
Years before I had this job, I began to ask the question: if all of the world’s problems were solved overnight, what would you do tomorrow when there is nothing to be done? No goals to reach, no milestones to hit, etc. To be honest, I think I would go mad. I think everyone would go a bit mad. Not that everyone handles stress well, nor that everyone enjoys every problem they’re given, but even when one complains (as I would), they might at least enjoy that (as I did). It would seem that we love to have things to do, we love to be occupied, and to feel needed. It’s a cruel paradox that we should at once be both pissed off at having problems, and feel dreadfully bored or empty without them.
In today’s meditation, we reflect on the Last of the Four Last Things: Heaven. In Heaven, we lack nothing: it is a place so perfect that any description of ours is bound to fall short. Take, for example, the depiction given by St Francis: apart from telling us who and what will be there, his imagery of Heaven is made by way of comparison. He gives us the example of beautiful scenery, and suffices to tell us that Heaven is infinitely better than that. I’ve once written about how such descriptions might feel somewhat elusive. However, on this occasion, I am less interested in how this image might leave us wanting, and more interested in this question about our human nature. That is: why does this peace-without-problems feel like its not enough? Or, to put it a better way, as St Francis asks:
Why have I so long lingered indifferent to the eternal happiness set before me?
St Francis de Sales, Meditation on Paradise
Why is it so hard to choose Heaven? Why do we delight in the brokenness of our world? Why are we, as a matter of fact, so restless? My mother once asked me how often it was that I would be able to quietly sit by the window, and do nothing else. I told her that I don’t recall ever having done this, and that I don’t think I would be able to. We like to busy ourselves, even though we hate being busy, but why? That, as the Bard would say, is the question.
I am not a cynic about man. Mankind is inherently good, but mankind is also broken, and therein I believe lies the answer to our question. It is ironic that as I’ve spoken about Hell and Judgement these past few weeks, it is only now that I reflect on Heaven that I say anything about the evil of sin. Sin is, after all, what makes it difficult for us to choose Heaven. Sin is all that will keep us from heaven. Sin takes our eyes off of the prize (among other things), and redirects it to something less deserving, and this is precisely why we are restless: we live in this world, but are not made for a world like this. We long for the eternal, and so as we live, we are tempted to expect more from that which is not. That remains true even of the good things in life: they are but a taste of what is on offer in Heaven. They are the antipasto to the entrée. And so, I would urge the reader to make room in their lives for the main course.
St Francis tells us to “aspire earnestly after that blessed abode,” and to do this, I would suggest we each make an examination of conscience, and with every choice, ask yourself: what place does this thing have in my life, if any? Be sure to forgo that which is evil, take the appropriate delight in that which is good, and above all desire that which is the Highest Good: those things which are holy, heavenly, and eternal. This is meant not to engender a disinterest in the affairs of this world, but rather a sense of direction—a growth in virtue and holiness over the span of your life—that will, in God’s time, bring you to the “blessed abode” for which we are made. Heaven can be a difficult choice for us to make given our restlessness and sinfulness, but take heart in God’s promise that it will not leave us wanting, nor shall it take away from our lives. Far from it: our pursuit of Heaven will help us to live better here and now. For as Saint John Henry Newman put it:
We attain to Heaven by using this world well, though it is to pass away.
St John Henry Newman
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