The other day found me washing dishes and singing "Monkey Gone to Heaven" by the Pixies. As someone borrowed my CD copy of the Pixies "Dolittle" 15 years ago and never returned it (I'm talking to you Denmarsh!), my singing pretty much consisted of repeating the part of the chorus that goes "This monkeys gone to Heaven" over and over since I can't presently remember any of the other lyrics. Deanna, six years younger than I and thus sometimes alarmingly naive about the treasure trove of music that was the 1980s, first indicated that she had never heard the song. Then, taking my repeated lyric at its literal best, she declared out of the blue "There are no monkeys in heaven."
"What?!?!" I replied. Twelve years of marriage and I am blindsided by this assertion. This led immediately to a theological discussion of what exactly heaven is like, what form everything is in there, and who is eligible to enter. Deanna's vision - no physical form, just some spark of existence being promoted upon death to a nebulous free-floating state. Picture a bunch of Tinkerbell-like lights (souls) flitting around in what looks like outer space. She seemed a little vague about where the line would be drawn when pressed for details on what types of lifeforms are allowed but was clear that monkeys and trees were excluded (she later conceded on the monkeys but held firm on no trees). Worst of all, no one is actually doing anything. Just flits of light flitting. Souls floating in the ether. Boooooorrrring!
My vision is that Heaven looks a bit like Wii Sports Resort. A cool place where you can spend the afternoon bowling with Thomas Jefferson and John Lennon. I picture catching up with my friend Jeni from high school and getting to know my grandfathers whom I never had a chance to know on earth, perhaps over archery or some cocktails (but not both - experience has taught me that archery and cocktails are a poor combination). Is that Charles Lindbergh piloting the Piper Cub that gives scenic "Get to Know Heaven" tours; why yes it is!" Hey Vasco de Gama and Lewis and Clark, catch you guys later for some orienteering! How about some ziplining with Walter Payton and Teddy Roosevelt! I could go on but you get the picture. And in my Heaven, there is surely no shortage of trees or monkeys - in fact, my Heaven is lousy with them, AND they talk.
Deanna and I continued our debate upstairs, where we presented our conflicting views of Heaven to Owen, who not surprisingly found mine to be more appealing. About that time one of the twins wandered in with no clothes on. Deanna instructed him to get his pajamas on and, as an aside, noted that "God does not want to see your naked butt." Both twins then quite confidently asserted that God loved their butts as much as the rest of them, and to prove their point, joyously bent over to raise their naked butts heavenward. And somewhere far above, a foursome made up of God, a monkey, a Peruvian peasant, and Revolutionary War Hero Marquis de Lafayette looked down and chuckled appreciatively before turning their attention back to their golf game.
