A Matter of Perspective

"But what about Heaven and Hell?"

The question was was a good one. Most of us, when we hear people talk of heaven and hell, think of places. Heaven we may see as a delightful place amongst the clouds, while hell would be a fiery pit of torture beneath the ground. Some may think of heaven as a beautiful field with brightly coloured flowers, animals playing and perhaps a sweet water river flowing gently throughout. Hell would be a desolate desert with people dying of thirst and vultures flying overhead. Many think of heaven peopled with winged angels, adorned with halos and harps. Hell would be filled with devilish red demons with tails, pitchforks, and maybe a banjo. Well, maybe not a banjo, but I think it's a distinct possibility.

For most of us, the imagery we have of heaven and hell is often inspired by popular culture handed down from Medieval Christianity, built from concepts dating back to earlier days of desert tribes, filtered through European Renaissance paintings, and on and on. This vision of both heaven and hell as two distinct and dichotomous places influences so much in our society, whether or not we are consciously aware of it. The very concept of salvation versus damnation has set the stage for our "right and wrong" way of viewing things.

The Baha'i Writings, on the other hand, are not as clear cut. First, neither are viewed as a place. They are seen more as a matter of perspective. "But the paradise and hell of existence", says 'Abdu'l-Baha, "are found in all the worlds of God, whether in this world or in the spiritual heavenly worlds." Shoghi Effendi more simply states "Heaven and hell are conditions within our own beings."

What are we to make of this? How can two such extremes be merely a matter of our own perspective? And how can this concept affect our life?

Let's begin with a simple set of examples.

If I wanted to describe heaven, I would probably say a place of joy and peace, where I learn more about the world around me, somewhere where I have a meaningful job to do and I strive to accomplish it with tremendous enthusiasm. And the more I sit here and try to write more about it, the more I realize that I really am describing my own feelings, rather than a place itself.

So how about if I try to visualize an actual location? What would be a truly amazing place for me, a veritable heaven on earth? Well, to be honest, a bookstore, or maybe a library, in which I could sit and read to my heart's content. There would be people around, too, with whom I could talk about what we are all reading. Oh, and with a free coffee bar. That would probably be asking too much, though, wouldn't it? Well, it is my heaven, after all, so free lattes. But in the end, it would not just be sitting and reading. I would find that a bit boring. No, I would need to be reading about things that I could put into action to help make the world a better place, and then be able to go out and actually do it. That would be heaven, to me.

Now imagine if I was stuck in a sports arena, watching sports all day, served nothing but hot dogs and beer. Well, I'd probably be given soda pop, instead. But no, I'm describing my own hell. I'd be served warm beer. And it wouldn't even be the good ale I enjoyed before I was a Baha'i and living in Europe. It would be American beer. Warm American beer, and hot dogs with ketchup. I'm from Chicago originally, so hot dogs with ketchup is already a horrible concept. Oh, this would truly be hell for me.

But I can easily imagine some of my friends for whom this would be reversed. The bookstore would be a boring hell, while they would love to be in that stadium.

All of a sudden we can easily see how one person's heaven could be another person's hell.

Now, imagine if your life revolved around food, and all of a sudden you lost your sense of taste. Or if you spent all your time accumulating stuff, and then found that you had nothing. Just imagine if you spent your whole life collecting a pristine set of, I don't know, Spiderman comics. And then, all of a sudden, this prized collection was suddenly dispersed to the winds. It's easy to see how the loss of what you treasured would be a form of hell.

You see how we can now make sense of this notion that heaven and hell are more due to our own perspective, right? But again, how does this impact our daily life?

Let's be clear that we do not take our body with us when we die. That's a starting point for me, a given. But let's also be clear that we are still conscious, aware of our surroundings, of our sense of self. Some may call it a soul, or our spirit. I'm not concerned either way, but just that it impacts what comes next.

We no longer have a sense of taste, for we no longer have a body with which to taste things. We have the memory of taste, but that's likely as satisfying a being diabetic and having to content oneself with the aroma in a wonderful bakery. Hell? Yup.

Can we relish in our collection of stuff? Nope.

But what if our greatest treasure was the expression on someone's face as they succeeded in accomplishing a difficult task? What if our most prized possession was working with someone in coming to a deeper understanding of a difficult topic? What if our greatest joy was found in the accomplishments of others?

These are things that we can appreciate in the next world, without need for a body.

When we begin to find the deep soul-felt solace in contemplative prayer and meditation, when we learn to treasure those hard won accomplishments of others, it feels to me as if we are training ourselves for our life in the next world.

But when we dedicate our life to those fleeting things of this world, it is as if we are spending our time striving to move backwards, back into the womb of our earthly existence.

Everything in our spiritual life seems to be encouraging us to move forwards, to learn to appreciate those things to come, and detach from those things we must necessarily leave behind.

So yes, heaven and hell do seem to be a matter of perspective, and yes, we can train ourselves to be prepared for that world to come. We can train ourselves to find that perspective that will allow us to see what comes next as an anticipated heaven.

And if I do happen to find myself in that stadium, perhaps I will learn to appreciate the struggle of competition on the field, and relish in the hard-won victory of the winning team.

But I'll still give a hard pass on the hot dogs and beer, thanks.