Some people say that they have seen heaven; in fact, there is a recent bestseller that documents the story of a young boy who had a vision of paradise. Usually, people describe heaven as having bright lights, puffy white clouds, golden ornamentation, angel choirs, and peaceful people sublimely floating around in white robes. While these symbols have come into our religious imagination to explain eternal life with God, I don't think that they adequately describe heaven.
This past Sunday I think I got a glimpse of what heaven may actually be like. Mass this Sunday ended with a extraordinary celebration—a Eucharistic procession through the streets of Antigua. While this kind of worship is almost unheard of in the United States, here in Guatemala processions are a reminder that God is everywhere and walks with us in our streets. Here's what happened: The Blessed Sacrament was exposed in the monstrance, a golden sunburst surrounding a pure, white disc of unleavened bread. Six people carried a canopy over the priest who held the monstrance wrapped tenderly in his vestments. Slowly, the people of God trickled out of the pews to follow behind Jesus in the Sacrament. As tiny flames flickered, beads of wax rolled down the small white tapers that each person held.
As we exited the sanctuary, I was certain that we were Someplace else not quite in the world. We tread over a trail of soft pine needles and rose petals; a band burst into a joyful marching tune at the back of the procession as a more traditional drummer pounded away at the front; church bells clanged and clinked hastily as the sound of fire crackers cut the air with a poppity-pow-pop-pop; brightly colored confetti fell from above; people sang. Some people wore veils in humble reverence and others wore scapulars the size of postcards. A little girl dressed as an angel led the way followed by an altar server carrying the Cross flanked by two pink candles that spiraled towards the sky. Someone swang a thurible the size of a small pumpkin through the air as clouds of incense billowed out and filled the street with the sweet scent of burning sap.
Most importantly, as the priest pointed out, in this procession it doesn't matter who is first or who is last; what matters is that we walk together and that we walk with our God. God invites us all to work in his vineyard.
With all of its strange sounds, smells, and sights, this procession is just a reminder—a reminder of something that we can so easily forget in the United States; that is, that every Mass is a celebration. Something extraordinary is occurring. This Eucharistic celebration is a reflection of the heavenly banquet God has prepared for us. It is a celebration of thanksgiving (as the word “Eucharist” connotes). If you have any doubts about this, I suggest reading The Lamb's Supper by Dr. Scott Hahn. This is a brilliant but accessible account of one convert's realization that the Eucharist is a sharing in the heavenly banquet. As Fr. G. Ronald Murphy, SJ, often reminds his students, the symbols and the rituals in the sacramental life of the Church are all about one thing: realization. In the sacraments heaven dips down, the earth swings skyward, and the two embrace if only for a brief second. We are invited to be somewhere else. We are invited to sit at God's welcome table.
