All Saints Day November 1, 2020
Fr. Albert St. John the Evangelist, Jeanerette
I used to be afraid of heaven. Really, as a child I would sometimes lie in bed at night and be overcome by dread. This haunting, existential question would play in my mind over and over and over. If I live forever, what am I going to do? What if I get bored? Not like a little bored, but like an “everything is meaningless” kind of bored. I would try to come up with little scenarios that would explain how someone could live forever and not get bored. Maybe it worked in cycles with a new kind of heaven in each one. Maybe reincarnation is real. Maybe you eventually stop existing because you run out of things to do in heaven. None of those are true, of course, and they didn’t really help.
I think that fear went away around the time I first fell in love. And I think I know why. With that experience, I realized on some subconscious level how it was possible to do something forever and never get bored. What is the answer to the problem of eternal boredom?
To see God’s face. That’s not an answer I actually came up with. It’s all over scripture. Our psalm speaks of longing to see the face of God. Prophets and patriarchs are both eager and afraid to see the face of God. St. John’s letter speaks of seeing God as he is and Jesus himself gives us the beatitude “blessed are the pure of heart for they will see God.” These put words to the intuitions of that cured my fear of heaven.
Now, you might ask, how can looking at God’s face be so great that it won’t get old even in eternity? I mean, have you ever stared into someone’s eyes for a long time? It gets kind of weird and awkward most of the time. Even if it doesn’t, you’ll surely get bored eventually, right? Not when that face is God’s.
Think of the way that babies can lock in on the face of a person for a pretty long time. In fact, children are born with a natural sense of the human face. Think also of the way it feels to look into the face of someone you love and who loves your back. A priest friend of mine tells a story of visiting and older couple in the hospital. As he was standing by the bed of the wife, the husband got very upset with him. He complained, “you’re standing in the way. I want to look at my wife.” There’s something naturally powerful about the human face. That something is but a dim reflection of the face of God.
Think of the first time you fell in love. Think of all the excitement, anticipation, and dreams that came with it. The eagerness for that person to look at you with love. Think of all the ways you thought they were just perfect. Eventually, reality set in and you saw their imperfection. But imagine if that never happened. Imagine if they were as perfect as you hoped and that the more you looked, the more you saw it.
Think of your loneliest moments, when you feel misunderstood or completely ignored. Imagine someone looking into your eyes and knowing that they know exactly what’s going on… a gaze that says, “I am with you in your most hidden, confusing, and mysterious places.” Think of your worst sin, your biggest secret, your greatest shame. Imagine someone looking at you and knowing that about you. Imagine them looking at you not with anger or judgment, but with love.
St. John Vianney was once surprised to find a parishioner sit in the Church at the same time every day. He didn’t move or say or do anything. When Vianney asked him what he was doing, the man gestured to the tabernacle and said, “I look at him, he looks at me.” Eventually, the man would have to go to work or back home, but for that brief period each day, his other needs were met and he most wanted to spend that freedom looking at and being looked at with love.
These and more are but brief glimpses of what it actually means to look at the face of God. If this doesn’t compel you, then consider today’s festival – the Solemnity of All Saints. We recall the thousands of known saints, and the many thousands more who are unknown. We consider the men and women who traveled the world with the gospel message, those who spent thousands of days doing nothing but praying and then reading and writing about that prayer. Those who suffered horrifying, cruel deaths rather than sin or reject God, some even singing and rejoicing as it happened. Think of the trillions of dollars and hours spent on serving the poor, caring for the sick, and showing love to people who often didn’t appreciate it.
What could possibly have motivated these people? What about us? God calls all of us to holiness. What could possibly be worth saying “no” to so many exciting and fun things the world offers? Worth shutting down careers, losing family and friends, and wasting so much time and money on the Church with all the imperfection of her members? The face of God. In the end, the saints are those who understood that to look into the very eyes of love itself was worth any price, any trial.
Even if you believe the lie that everyone goes to heaven no matter what, the possibility of seeing God’s face should drive us to avoid sin and seek holiness. Just as with marriage, the harder you work and the more you’re willing to endure to make it work, the greater the joy and peace there is when you do get to see the love reflected back in their eyes. If you just barely get to heaven, you will see God’s face, but the greater your love on earth, the clearer your vision of God will be.
More than perfect food and fun, more than the perfect body you’ll have in heaven, what conquers the fear of infinite boredom or of worldly trials is the possibility of being able to see love itself looking back at you with perfect understanding. How can that kind of love get old? If you would like to know this kind of joy, then seek His face. Seek it in adoration. Seek it in the face of your neighbor. Seek it in scripture and the lives of the saints. Recall the times you’ve seen glimpses of his face. Think of them often and with gratitude. Ask God. Ask him to show his face, to help you understand what is so good about this vision, this gaze that enabled even children to suffer death if only they got the chance to see it. It is the face of love, the gaze that wants nothing more than to look at you. Blessed are you if you’re willing to sacrifice everything else, to live and die just for the chance to meet that gaze and never leave it.