Last week, disgruntled Granby citizen Marvin Heemeyer went on a rampage and bulldozed several buildings in his town, leaving in his wake millions of dollars in damages. Satisfied with the job he’d done, Heemeyer put a bullet through his own head and ended what appeared to be years of tormenting anger at a town he felt betrayed him.
Amazingly enough, Heemeyer didn’t physically harm another living soul. He demolished businesses belonging to people he felt were mean to him. He razed public buildings as well, including the library. And that’s what really got me.
My former husband and I used to live in Granby, many years ago. There wasn’t a lot to do there. We had no TV; for a while, we had no phone. In winter, we often got snowed in. The library was our primary source of entertainment. It was a small library and didn’t have a wide array of books from which to choose. There was no “New Books” section. Still, we loved its musty smell, and the fact that you had to crouch down to reach some of the shelves hiding in nooks and crannies.
So when I heard that Heemeyer took out the library, I was truly saddened. But then I got to the end of the newspaper article reporting the tragedy, and something I read changed my focus. The last sentence was a quote by a business owner whose building Heemeyer destroyed. This gentleman said that when he gets to heaven, he’s sure Heemeyer won’t be there.
Wow. That’s a strong statement. And I couldn’t help but smile when I imagined the surprise this businessman might experience if he does get to heaven and Heemeyer is waiting for him at the gates. Wouldn’t that be a kicker?
I’m not making light of anyone’s sorrow or loss; if I were one of those against whom Heemeyer had a vendetta, I’d be feeling anxious and desperate right about now. But reading that statement made me wonder why anyone believes that only the good get into heaven, and only if they follow very strict guidelines. I’ve thought about this a lot lately, in light of the war and the myriad reports of justice gone astray.
Different religions teach us different things. One of Tavia’s kindergarten classmates warned her of the evils of drinking tea. Said the Bible says it’s wrong (because of the caffeine content?). Tavi grew concerned for a moment, then decided she must be on the highway to hell because she drinks coffee sometimes. Now I ask, in a world of true evil, how can anyone tell a 5-year-old that drinking tea is sinful? I was only too relieved to realize that Tavi has enough confidence not to let her friend’s warning shake her. That child enjoys her morning cuppa joe, which is actually 98 percent vanilla creamer and 2 percent coffee, and she’s not about to let anyone take away that simple pleasure. More power to her. Go Tavi.
Though simple, this illustration presents my point well. With all the holy books, the various religious tenets and beliefs, how can we believe any one religion offers the only path leading to home? Does it make sense that God will welcome into his kingdom only his “good” children? What kind of parent would God be to do this? What about the prodigal son? And you—if your child chooses to follow paths you find disturbing, wrong, or even evil— would you not rejoice and welcome him home with open arms should he correct his behavior and let love guide his life? Any loving parent would, and I’ve been told God’s love is unconditional.
This is one of the reasons the idea of reincarnation makes sense to me. If God loves his children even somewhat in the way I love mine—that I hope you love yours—then he’s going to give them chances to repent and walk in the light, no matter how much patience is required to do that. Not getting the message in this life? Then your burden is to come back and try again. And again, and again, if that’s what it takes. I believe God, like any parent, has faith that eventually, his kids will come around to a state of grace, and he’s not about to turn his back on them, regardless of how they get to him in the end. This may not satisfy the mortal sense of justice, because we want swift and permanent consequences when we’ve been wronged. But when you parent your own kids, is your aim to punish or teach?
Does this mean we’ll sit at the table with the likes of Hitler, Saddam Hussein, and Marvin Heemeyer? I think it does. Because sooner or later, the strength of God’s love is going to overcome them. On the flip side, it also means we’ll break bread with Gandhi, a man whose overwhelming love, kindness, and pure decency earned him a seat at the table, despite the fact that he hadn’t accepted Jesus as his Savior.
I just can’t believe God’s love is elitist. As a parent, I can’t honestly say I love one of my kids more than the others. And I don’t have even a spit’s worth of the grace I believe God possesses. So I don’t feel in my heart that God is going to care if Tavia drinks coffee any more than I think he’s going to withhold his love and acceptance from Heemeyer, a man who could have benefited from anger management classes, to be sure, but who just might get it right in his next life.
Coming back to this world, when he could have spent eternity in heaven: Isn’t that justice in and of itself? I believe he’ll eventually accept God’s grace. I just wish he wouldn’t have leveled the Granby Public Library on his journey toward spiritual evolution.