Heavenly appetizer: Ravello

Most of us cannot imagine heaven. We're picky when we envision it. You know, we think things like, I am not a huge fan of harp music—I only want classic rock in heaven. Or, I guess we'll all be nice there, but I hope I'm on a different cloud than that lady who cannot stop bragging incessantly about her overly-athletic miracle of a son. And steak? I hope I can still eat steak and pizza up there.

It's clearly hard for us to conceptualize because of our human equipment. The idea of NOT eating pizza, frankly, is disturbing. What? Are we just so fulfilled that we don't need to eat? Unappealing. When I find myself running down this mental loop, I remember that it isn't going to make a whole lot of sense to us right now. We are humans with our five senses. Going to see Solo at the movies wouldn't make much sense to a Goldfish. You dig?

Bishop Barron, in one of his recent Word on Fire podcasts describes heaven as multi-dimensional. For instance, right now, our earthly experience is like a flat piece of paper. Heaven, in contrast, is still sensual—but heightened—like a three-dimensional prism. I like that visual and it comforts me to think—we aren't going to lose anything in heaven. It's not a lesser experience where we are all bummed out that we no longer get to enjoy pizza. Rather, it is a REAL ultra-heightened sensory place. It is BETTER than what we have now!

Last summer, I realized a dream of visiting Italy with my husband, Joe. After the glories of Rome, we went to Ravello, which if you've never been, is a hill town overlooking the Mediterranean. We didn't talk a whole lot while we were there—the experience was too intense for our senses to process and we found ourselves repeatedly muttering "this is too beautiful for words." Frustratingly, there was skimpy language at our disposal to adequately describe the feeling of elation we enjoyed at being plunked in the midst of this unimaginable beauty. Each new vista delightfully surprised us—how could it keep getting better? Unfathomable. The intense floral scents mixed with lemon and basil and the lilting bird songs punctuated by church bells left us dizzy with wonder. The thunderous realization relentlessly surfacing:

This place is an appetizer for heaven. A little sweet morsel. A generous taste from God and an assurance that heaven will be wonderful and our minds should remain at peace. If heaven is anything like Ravello—it will be glorious. Yet, I know it is a mere whetting of the appetite. Heaven is the feast. What a triumphant thought.