Nelson Mandela died yesterday.
As I paused, along with the rest of the world, to acknowledge his death and reflect on his life, I was struck with an image of Nelson Mandela going Home. Wow, I thought. Can you imagine the great rejoicing that he will be met with as his spirit is carried into the Great Unknown? The angels bursting forth in song (or beginning a new verse in the ongoing song that never ends), the people he touched with his bravery and kindness that will surely flock around him and each have time to tell their stories, express their thanks, show appreciation to one who devoted his life to helping God's kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven. At least, this is how I like to picture his arrival into Eternity.
What a joyful noise that will be, I thought. And then I was struck with another thought.
This is heaven, not high school.
If the kingdom of heaven were like high school, Nelson Mandela and others with far-reaching influence on earth would get to sit at the popular table in the cafeteria. The cheerleader angels would gather round and hang on their every word while the rest of the kids would watch longingly from a distance. The rejoicing at their arrival would be louder and grander than the rejoicing for ordinary folks who were making their way into Eternity.
But, praise God, heaven is not high school. It's not a popularity contest. I believe that there is great rejoicing for every soul that passes to the other side. The homeless man who died in an alley. The child who spent her whole short life in a cancer ward. The woman who donated millions to charitable organizations and the woman whose mental illness kept her from ever holding down a job. The man who took the stage for an adoring audience and the man who took our garbage to the dump. The doctor who cared for the AIDS patient and the one who lay in the bed dying. Mother Teresa and the mother who worked two jobs to feed her children. Those who were hungry and those who were well fed. Those who saw the world and those who never left the town in which they were born. Those who earned doctorates and those who never graduated high school. Those who were the fastest and those who were never able to stand. Those who the world loved and celebrated and those who the world hated and forgot.
All children of God. All loved, honored, and celebrated by their Creator. Each one precious, regardless of how much or how little they accomplished during their stay on this great globe. Great rejoicing for each and every one on the day of their Homecoming. Heaven, not high school.
If we are to bring the kingdom of heaven to earth, maybe we should start celebrating ALL people in the same way that God celebrates them. Enough with the beauty contests, the talent shows, the rankings and celebrity. Enough with the invisible checklists of who is deserving of our love and respect, of who is worthy of God's love. How might this world be different if we set out to radically love each person we encounter? We do the world a disservice when we fear, label, judge, condemn, ignore, or forget people. We do the world a disservice when we hold people on pedestals, worship their accomplishments, treat them as though they are more worthy than the rest of us.
They say death is the great equalizer. As I reflect on the death of one who spent his life fighting for equality, I can't help but hope for a world in which we can each listen to the still, small voice urging us to love equally now. Until this Kingdom can be more fully realized on earth as it is in heaven, I find solace in the thought of the Homecoming that awaits us all. Let there be great rejoicing.
