To Roam Through The New Earth

Heeding the news or pundits or bloggers about what’s going on in the world is like listening to preachers expound on the book of Revelation. None of them really knows what he’s talking about. It’s naïve speculation at best, and cynical self-centered grandstanding at worst. I grew up listening to sermons and skimming booklets that “proved” that Richard Nixon was the Beast, or that Henry Kissinger was the antichrist. And where are those authors now? Look at the current crop of blathering boys & girls, ignorant of both history and human nature, standing atop their picnic tables and waving their arms about. They, too, will be completely forgotten someday. Any time spent considering their views on Ukraine, Russia, the US government, the economy, the elections, etc. will be time wasted, never to be regained. The very adults who make fun of teenage girls who closely follow pop celebrities on social media are the same ones who never miss an episode of their favorite news program, podcast, or blog entry.

**

I recently watched a remake of the German classic film All Quiet On the Western Front. It was not as bad as I expected. Gorier, naturally, but the violence was for the most part not gratuitous. Also, it was refreshing to see Germans playing Germans instead of the intentionally miscast mishmash of diverse characters so common in films today. The performances by the lead actors were solid, and there actually were some scenes of considerable poignancy. A very unsettling soundtrack, too.

Speaking of movies, I have a mental list of what I call “Delayed Enjoyments.” These are movies, almost all old classic films, that I was aware of but had never gotten around to seeing, AND they’re movies that once I saw them, really did live up to their reputations. The Delayed Enjoyment Films that come immediately to mind are The Caine Mutiny, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, Lawrence of Arabia, 2001: A Space Odessey, Barry Lyndon, Gaslight, Babette’s Feast, and The Field. There are many others, but those are the ones that always spring up.

There are also some films that have exalted reputations that I find pretty much unwatchable. Casablanca is tops on this list. I’ll never understand why it’s so popular. And To Kill A Mockingbird is one of the most sanctimonious, hamhanded things I’ve ever seen, Robert Duvall’s superb Boo Radley excepted.

**

I had an extended back-and-forth discussion with a friend last night about various elements of Christianity, the authority of the Bible, the historicity of the Faith, etc. By the time I went to bed, I was chewing over a subject that I think about quite a bit: heaven, the afterlife, what comes after death.

I spent several years in the Presbyterian church, a very nitpicky, debate-happy bunch if ever there was one. Heaven was one of those topics debated to the point of exhaustion for me. The Reformed crowd seems to take a special delight in pedantic hair-splitting, and I heard way more than my share of “authoritative” opinions about the hereafter. I heard all about how, “as the Scriptures plainly teach, since Christ mentioned there being no marrying nor giving in marriage in Heaven, we may safely assert that a Christian’s beloved spouse will be essentially be no more in the afterlife than a sister or a good fellowship buddy, a belief I always received with incredulity and distaste. One of the most distressing things I ever heard was while listening to a chat between two pastors. Both of the pastors were strict Sabbitarians, meaning that they both believed that Sunday is a dour, depressing affair (they would deny my characterization, naturally) in which the only permitted activities on the Lord’s Day are church attendance, religious reading, religious contemplation, and abstention from all physical, nonessential, and worldly work, including picking the newspaper up off of the lawn –and I’m not joking. So while listening to these guys, I heard one of them say, “Heaven is going to be like the Lord’s Day, but without end.” And I almost swallowed my own tongue at that moment. The thought of being corralled into the kind of Lord’s Day they observed and claimed to enjoy, for all eternity, never to end….well, it made me sick. And I thought, “If that’s what Heaven is like, I want no part of it. And why would God DO that to His people?” Why not just have us sit through a tax seminar for 5000 years, and then let us listen to Al Franken recite Shakespeare’s collected works, and then have Fran Drescher sing the entire Wagner’s Ring Cycle? Rinse and repeat.

After that little incident, I spent a lot of time thinking about what I would want Heaven to be like if I were calling the shots, having rejected as nonsensical the idea of walking around on literal streets of gold and shouting “Praise God! Hallelujah!” for all eternity. And also, I might add, having rejected the idea of the Ancient of Days even wanting me to do such a thing.

I’ve read a lot of speculation by some very intelligent gents about this topic, and as is typical for me, I find it difficult to follow much of what they write. I enjoy their observations about the possibility of creativity and participation with God in the afterlife, but the detailed discussions about such topics makes my eyes fog over, mostly because those who examine these things seem so sure about their ideas. Perhaps I have a negative bias against this sort of confidence; I look back at my own interior life and I recall that the spiritual ideas about which I’ve been most convinced and have been most willing to vigorously defend are the very ones that later I realized I was quite wrong about.

As one theologian once put it, sometimes I have to just put certain topics into a mental file and notate it “Awaiting further light.”

But still….what are my druthers about Heaven?

Once I realized that I was never going to be able to cheerfully accept the clouds & harps scene, especially without my wife with me as my wife, I began to ask myself what I ultimately, eternally wanted. I still ask myself this question every night when I lie down to sleep, and many times during the day, every single day.

And what I’ve concluded so far is that a heavenly eternity for me would be to be with my beloved Mrs. Orr, free to walk and walk and walk, just to roam through the new earth, encountering all the animals and plants, learning them, luxuriating in their presence. That’s it. That would be heaven for me. Some people believe we can construct our own heaven, based on things we do and learn and experience in this life. It’s a compelling thought.

**

And the cold weather has moved in. It’s been blustery all day, with the high only about 40F, and slated to remain that way over the weekend. Mrs. Orr and I have been marveling at how COLD the cold feels this year. Perhaps it’s a function of age. It does seem more bone-deep intense this year, and I’m trying to figure out how we’ll endure until spring. I wear wool socks and longhandles, and even keep a scarf around my neck while I’m sitting at my desk during the day, but I usually don’t get warm until nearly bedtime. Geezers will geeze, I suppose. Not that I’m calling Mrs. Orr a geezer.

Geezette, perhaps.

I need to bring in some wood so we can have our first fire of the season. Chili dogs are on tap for tonight, and maybe some hot cider that we got at an apple orchard back in the fall. I need to do a bit of yard work tomorrow, picking up limbs I lopped off, etc. Such a medieval-sounding phrase, “picking up limbs I lopped off…” Time to bundle up, y’all. Thanksgiving is on the way, having snuck up on us once again. Have a lovely weekend, dear ones.

~ S.K. Orr