For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all, training us to renounce impiety and worldly passions and in the present age to live lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly, while we wait for the blessed hope and the manifestation of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.
(Titus 2:11-13, New Revised Standard Version, Updated Edition)
Earlier this year, one of the most powerful men in the world began musing about what would happen after he died. “I want to try and get to heaven if possible,” he said in an August interview. “I’m hearing I’m not doing well. I am really at the bottom of the totem pole.” He continued the theme two months later, telling a reporter: “I don’t think there’s anything going to get me in heaven… I think I’m not maybe heaven-bound.”
Well, as you can imagine, just about everybody had an opinion about that. This man elicits strong opinions from both his supporters and his detractors; few could resist the opportunity to weigh in on his ultimate fate, as a joke if nothing else.
Modern Quakers don’t even have a single shared set of beliefs about God. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that we have a wide range of opinions about heaven, from the possibility of its existence to the qualifications for admission and this man’s chances. I can’t tell you “what Quakers believe;” I can only tell you what I believe, and some Friends will agree, and some will disagree. (And some will wonder why I’m wasting my time on a completely irrelevant matter.)
Basically, we’re all getting into heaven. Yes, even him.
To the extent that I embrace Christian theology, I believe in the principle of universal salvation. I believe that all souls will enter into communion with God in time. I believe that an infinitely loving God has the patience for even the most stubborn of souls to come around, and would not give up on someone simply because their physical body had died. I believe, therefore, that an infinitely loving God would not create conditions of eternal torment and damnation.
That doesn’t mean I don’t believe in hell, though. On that topic, I find this passage from the Orthodox theologian David Bentley Hart’s book on universal salvation, That All Shall Be Saved, particularly convincing:
“…the fires of hell are nothing but the glory of God, which must at the last, when God brings about the final restoration of all things, pervade the whole of creation; for, although that glory will transfigure the whole cosmos, it will inevitably be experienced as torment by any soul that willfully seals itself against love of God and neighbor; to such a perverse and obstinate nature, the divine light that should enter the soul and transform it from within must seem instead like the flames of an exterior chastisement.”
Hart’s description of the glory of God might bring to mind George Fox’s call to turn toward “that inward light, spirit, and grace, by which all might know their salvation.” The earliest Friends experienced that inward light in something like a penetrating sense—shining upon their souls, making all their sins visible, compelling their recognition of the necessity of repentance. “You cannot go on living as you have,” this encounter told them. “If you want to live in the beloved community, you must fix your heart.”
Many people might initially recoil from such a revelation.
If a man has done well for himself by the standards of our secular capitalist society, he probably doesn’t want to hear that he has affronted God. Even if (especially if?) his actions in life show that he never thought of anyone’s well-being other than his own. That even when he did something of ostensible benefit to someone else, he made sure that he got something out of the deal, expecting praise and admiration no matter how small his contribution.
So I think that some recalcitrant souls, confronted with this truth, would absolutely react by saying “Whatever, God,” and continuing their pursuit of wealth and glory. A man might waver in his commitment to self-satisfaction, might even begin to express doubt, but despite any momentary misgivings he might refuse to change his ways in his own lifetime.
The principle of universal salvation assures us that God has not given up on that man, will not give up on that man—and, by extension, will not give up on any of us. Which leads me to think: What better way could we show our appreciation for God’s confidence in us, or patience with us if you prefer, than to renounce impiety and worldly passions now? And, by living lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly, do our bit to make the kingdom of the heavens a reality in this world?
Such a course of action would certainly resonate with Quaker faith and practice, whatever you think about the afterlife. Even if you never think about it at all.
I feel that the motivation to live a right life best comes from realizing the results of one’s actions here in our daily lives, and not from hope of heaven or fear of hell. Enough wise people who have written and spoken about the path of a virtuous life, including but not limited to Jesus Christ, tell us that happiness comes from doing the right things without expectation of reward, and that a life of simplicity and honesty and compassion for others puts us closer to our own souls and to that of God in ourselves and others. Speculating about life after life seems to be the activity of an idle mind.
I appreciate Ron’s columns.
The wording in one of the paragraphs seemed not to welcome all potential readers. I realize “man” was the way in which “mankind” used to be discussed. I wish the following paragraph could have been written in a more inclusive manner.
“If a man has done well for himself by the standards of our secular capitalist society, he probably doesn’t want to hear that he has affronted God. Even if (especially if?) his actions in life show that he never thought of anyone’s well-being other than his own. That even when he did something of ostensible benefit to someone else, he made sure that he got something out of the deal, expecting praise and admiration no matter how small his contribution.”
Thanks for the thoughtful note, Harry! I take your point, and I tried writing those lines in neutral-third person (“If someone…”), and then in conversational-second person (“If you…”), but then I realized I wanted to bring readers’ minds back very directly to that specific man from the opening paragraph, but in a way that would still allow them to extrapolate to a general principle.
I too appreciate your words Ron.
For several years I have been influenced by Divine Truth teachings (www.divinetruth.com), which I like especially because they make so much sense to me. From there I learned that whether we find ourselves in a good place or not so good place after death is entirely related to the amount of love we have within us. Even more importantly, that just as on earth we can opt to grow or stagnate spiritually, and seek help or not, we can do this after we pass, and sooner or later the pain resulting from any sin we hold onto will cause us to strive to eventually become sinless, and for those who pray to receive God’s personal love, embrace eternal life and further growth and development of our essential selves. This speaks to me of a truly loving God. It also makes me want to start on the process now, tap into God’s merciful provision for myself and many of us living on earth in conditions that are probably rather better than our current soul condition warrants!
Well, Jesus certainly spoke about both permanent reward and permanent punishment. Perhaps he was ignorant of the divine plan? Perhaps he was only attempting to frighten people into living a virtuous life? Perhaps his teachings reveal a future we – in our wisdom – find distasteful? Perhaps C. S. Lewis’ “The Great Divorce” is a relevant perspective.