I wanted to write this down before I forget. During the night I dreamed of a monk, like a Budhist monk, in carmine-colored robes. His head was shaved and his face bright and happy. He reached over and touched my arm.
“Hey!” I said. “I felt that!” He looked at me with a beautiful smile.
“Yes...?” he answered.
This was the whole dream, but it was very intense. The colors of the sky, the clouds behind him; everything looked physical, like I could reach out and touch them. I woke up quickly, wondering what sort of dream it was.
I thought about our connections to heaven, to “the communion of saints.” While our Church says “Baptism is the way Christ taught us to be saved...” it also says in another place, “God cannot be limited to one way of saving.”
By “saving” we mean bringing us all into the fullness of relationship, something that gives the most lovely joy and peace. Who's to say who, where or when people are saved? God can save anyone, anytime, even people we don't expect.
But to me this dream was also a message. How long must we live—how many years of wandering and learning—before we know enough to sense heaven's presence? Instead of being “across the boundary line of death” is it possible that heaven can be here and now? Do we simply need to fall awake to see it? And if so, what's our next step in living...?
Wonder is also a gift.
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