Eternity Is Now or Never

By Harry T. Cook

11/8/13

Among the more vexing passages in my life as a parish priest were those in which I was pressed to affirm baseless beliefs that heaven was for real and that all but the heathen were bound for posthumous glory.

Again and again I was expected to tell mourners that they would one day see their dead loved ones alive again in some dimension surely attested to by the Bible. I could not do it. I could not do it because what we can gather from the labors of science points to the eventual extinction of individual, societal, planetary and galactic life.

Due to the inability of some species to adapt to changing environments -- or, in the case of Homo sapiens, its outright destruction of them -- extinction in the biosphere has already occurred and, with the warming of Earth on the rise, continues apace.

Thus, there exists no rational basis for human beings to insist upon excepting our species from the consequences of reality by positing for ourselves -- as opposed, say, to rabbits or whales or sequoias -- an afterlife beyond the eventual absorption by the biosphere of our desiccated remains.

Over the years, I tried to say such things in as gentle a way as possible, frequently quoting Isaiah 40:8 to the effect that the grass withers and the flower fades [and] "surely the people are grass." The more biblically literate would remind me that in the middle of that verse was the promise that "the Word of our God shall stand forever." So there!

So what? I would explain patiently that "Word" in that context refers to the force whereby all things may have came to be* -- for instance, the Big Bang. I would then have to point out that "forever" in any language is at best a pious hope and at worst a cruel joke.

Yet I understand why many people, egged on by religious tradition, want to believe death is survivable. I understand it because I have great difficulty in imagining terminal separation from the embrace of those whom I love and whose love is my very life -- that the warm body will not be next to mine in some future night, nor mine next to hers, that I will be in due course beyond the ambit of my children's and grandchildren's affections.

They are the ones for whom I worry, for them and their generations. It is for them that I promote the better care of Earth so their days spent on it will be as fair as mine have been. It is for them that I focus on the here-and-now because counting on a then-and-there is but a sucker's bet.

Religions that promise life after death and traffic in heavenly assurances of the same contribute directly to human shortsightedness. It is no accident that many climate-change deniers are members of churches -- all the way from traditional Catholicism to fundamentalist Protestantism, both of which hold out sure and certain hope for heaven and eternal life.

That, coupled with the literal interpretation of Genesis 1:28 in which the gods are said to have conferred upon humankind dominion over the planet to "subdue it," has given license for the wanton abuse of Earth. The most fateful and egregious example of this is the continued extraction and burning of fossil fuels resulting in the all-too-obvious degradation of the oceans and the atmosphere.

The most extreme argument adduced to support such rapacity is that The End Is Near anyway, so why worry?

As I compose this essay, a hymn from my long gone days in a Methodist Sunday school springs to mind:

Only one life, 'twill soon be past,

Only what's done for Christ will last.

And when I'm dying, how happy I'll be

If the lamp of my life was burned out for Thee.

The stanza, especially with its unfortunate 'twill, is a classic case of bathos and easy to dismiss as irrelevant to contemporary religions that strive to be rational in outlook and attuned to present needs. Yet it embodies the evident but much denied reality that each person has but one life.

Why, though, "only what's done for Christ will last"? The term "Christ" need not be limited in interpretation to a mythical personage of antiquity. "Christ," freed from sectarian definition, can mean what is best in humanity.** And part of what is best in humanity is the urge to care for its planetary home, the only home it has and the only home future generations will have. Only what's done to preserve that home in some semblance of livability is what will last -- at least until the next batch of us picks up the burden for the next one after that and so on and so on.

Such a thing does not get done in any segment of time -- present or future -- by subduing Earth and treating it if it were a virgin to despoil or a garbage dump to fill up.

If we must have religions, let them be attentive to the imperatives of the "now" about which we know, rather than the improbable fantasies of a "then" about which we know nothing whatsoever.

*The idea that the gods (elohim) "spoke" creation into being -- perhaps best expressed in the Latin translation of Genesis 1:3 Dixitque Deus fiat lux et facta est lux.

**The Greek χριστος (Christ) refers to a person set apart to perform salvific work.

* * * * *

Note: The eighth paragraph of the essay of 11/1/13 should have read: Soon enough, time was told in hours with the first mechanical clocks built in 13th-century Europe to remind monastics when to pray the Divine Office.

What a Friend They Had in Jesus: The Theological Visions of Nineteenth- and Twentieth-Century Hymn Writers

Have you ever found yourself humming a favorite childhood hymn, only to realize you could no longer embrace its message? Harry Cook explores how hymns reflect the religious beliefs of their times. He revisits the texts of popular hymns, posing such questions as: How true are they to the biblical texts that seem to have inspired them? What aspects of nineteenth- and twentieth-century piety have persisted into the twenty-first century through the singing of those hymns? And, how does one manage the conflict between the emotional appeal and the theological content of such hymns?

Available at:

Polebridge Press

Amazon.com

* * * * *

What reviewers said:

"Important and heart-warming ... Cook's keen insights into the most familiar of old-time gospel hymns ... help you do theology like a grownup."
--Robin Meyers, author of Saving Jesus from the Church

"A compelling look at centuries of Christian theology and practice, at how particular hymns have shaped American faith and religious thought."
--Richard Webster, Director of Music and Organist at Trinity Church, Boston

"A call to integrity in worship ... This exciting, penetrating and provocative study explores the theology we sing, which re-enforces the dated and pre-modern theology from which the Christian faith seeks to escape."
--John Shelby Spong, author of Re-Claiming the Bible for a Non-Religious World

Readers Write

Essay 11/1/13: Turning Back the Clock

Don Caley, Milford, MI:

Today's essay was another gem. I have often wished, though, that some time other than 2 a.m. would be settled on for the time switch. I hate getting up so early just to change all my clocks!

Jack Lessenberry, Huntington Woods, MI:

I wish they'd leave the bloody clock alone . . . he snorted.

Ronald Powers, Beverly Hills, CA:

How right you are about the time shift and the red-eye! I've been caught by the two of them at once several times.

Fred Fenton, Concord, CA:

When I have to adjust several clocks and my watch, I think of a family friend who was a collector of antique clocks. He had them hanging and chiming all over his big, two-story house. He was proud of their accuracy and kept them all running. It must have taken a long time to turn them back or forward an hour. In a larger sense, turning back the clock seems a futile effort on the part of those who do not like things the way they are. Conservatives, both in religion and politics, are forever looking back to some supposedly better time. It provides them with an excuse to evade the hard task of finding a way forward in changed circumstances. As you point out, the real challenge is to spend our time well. Jennifer Roberts, a professor of the history of art and architecture at Harvard, is teaching students the value of deceleration and immersive attention. She requires them to sit for three hours looking at a John Singleton Copley painting, Boy with a Squirrel. Restive and resentful of the assignment, students begin to see things and record questions about the painting that never would have occurred to them if looking at it briefly and then passing on to other attractions. Your own research and evaluation of biblical texts is invaluable to people who read your Findings because you have spent the hours sitting in your study looking beyond surface impressions and inherited understandings to find the message that only patient, learned scholarship can reveal. In that sense, "turning back the clock" to an earlier time can produce rich results.

Richard Howard, Independence, MO:

Thanks for your enlightening and humorous essay on time. I've never liked "daylight savings time" (DST) due to jet lag symptoms. Besides, the extra sunlight hurts the crops in the fields. My wife and I used the annual shift to DST as an excuse to turn our clocks ahead on Friday afternoon, flee to a motel, spend two blissful days there out of sight of all clocks, watches, and all reminders of time. We'd read our favorite books, make lists, work puzzles, sleep, and play gin rummy. We'd return on Sundays with no DST jet lag, feeling smug that we'd tricked the golf lobby one more time. In our 80s now, we don't much care what lobbyists do, except those who own Congress. But that's another story, and I don't have time to deal with that at the moment. Time for breakfast!

Karen Davis, Royal Oak, MI:

Loved your "timely" column this morning . . . especially as I had risen earlier than usual to be sure the six large bags of clothing and household goods were placed on the porch for the Purple Heart truck.

Cynthia Chase, Laurel, MD:

I always thought it was kind of sad that college kids lost that extra hour of sleep in the spring when they needed it so much! I suppose our cat will start yammering for supper at 4 p.m. next week.

Euni Rose, Southfield, MI:

I think there is something radically wrong with me. I have no problem with time changes, whether they be the twice-a-year events or time zones when I travel. Do tell me the symptoms, so I can watch out for them!

Scott MacDonald, Vancouver, BC, Canada:

My least favorite days of the year are, in this order: my birthday and the "spring forward" Sunday. The first because I am in my 80s, the second because I lose the hour I won back in November. I want to die sometime between a "fall back" day and a "spring forward" day. You can see why. Your essays cheer me every Friday morning. I discovered you when you wrote a guest column for Bishop Spong. I've been following you ever since. How do you and he manage to maintain any relationship with the Anglican Church?

John Bennison, Walnut Creek, CA:

As a teen growing up in southwest Michigan, I used to catch a Grand Trunk Railroad train in order to get home from boarding school for the holidays. The train was never on time. So much for our penchant to regulate the seasons and moments of our lives. If I "fall back" an hour this weekend, it may be to fall back to sleep; but knowing it's only temporary. I'll have to give it back come spring. The stolen hours and minutes of our days have only to do with what you do with them -- such as taking the time well spent to read your essay and comment on it.

Tracey Martin, Southfield, MI:

As one who spends several months each year in Phoenix, Arizona, I'm acutely aware of the need to adjust my internal clock when traveling back and forth from Michigan. It takes a few days, usually, to reorient myself to the difference between twilight and night as well as dawning and daytime. Critical, of course, in order for me to be sharing common time. It's even more complicated by the fact that, during EST, Arizona is two time zones away. When we torture ourselves with DST, it's three. Arizona does not consider twice a year manipulation of the mechanics of its timepieces an exercise of any value, mental or physical. I like being in the eastern zone, however. It's easier to be able to presume that an event in New York is taking place the same time in Michigan. In Arizona, I must subtract two or three hours in order to understand what time that event is occurring in Phoenix. Which can result in a University of Michigan game beginning at noon in Ann Arbor starting instead at nine a.m. at the Seven Palms home of my Phoenix friend of 45 years.

What do you think?

I'd like to hear from you. E-mail your comments to me at revharrytcook@aol.com.

Click here to read previously published articles.