Getting Each Other into Heaven

A client once told me that, in premarital counseling, the priest told him, “In a marriage, the husband and wife have the job of getting each other into heaven.” I think this is beautiful, particularly in the sense that I understand psychological development, which, I believe, is synonymous with spiritual development. To develop ourselves, we need experiences that force us to do so. In other words, we have to learn to get along in the world. And this isn’t merely for the sake of getting along. The aim is that, through learning to get along in the world, we become a more complete version of ourselves. We do this in relationships, and marriage seems to me to be the relationship that has the most implications. When we have to live with someone for the rest of our lives, we will have an indefinite number of opportunities to develop ourselves. The notion of a husband and wife being charged with the task of getting the other into heaven symbolizes the significance of our psychological, or spiritual, development.

If I see you moving away from heaven, I have to tell you. While this seems lovely, we will quickly realize this isn’t necessarily pleasant. In turn, and appropriately so, this forces me to be considerate of the kindness necessary for confronting you. And that is good. Yet, this gives rise to another, albeit necessary, problem: coming across as the arbiter of your life. And this will invariably be reinforced by your rebuttals defending your autonomy and agency. Naturally, this is usually effective in getting me to back off. But there is an unintended consequence here: I now risk not helping you get into heaven. What, then, do I do? While I must take time to consider kindness, I must also be conscious of the finitude of time. Therefore, I have to reconcile the need for thoughtful contemplation and the urgency of the goal of getting into heaven.

So, if I see you moving away from heaven and don’t quite know how to tell you with thoughtful kindness, I have to tell you anyway. The better error to make is that I miss the mark with compassion. The worst error to make is to miss the mark by not delivering the message at all. You might argue that it’s ok to wait and be patient, and you would not be wrong. However, there is still a long line of these moments waiting to be addressed. The more I delay addressing them, the more they build up at the back end. If I care about you, if I care about us, then I will tell you, and I’d rather deal with the consequences of lacking thoughtfulness than those of lacking courage. I want to see you get into heaven, and that is the highest aim of marriage. The glory of God cannot be experienced without first shouldering the heavy burden of our shortcomings and inadequacies, those dreadful qualities. And what a remarkable act of courage to do so! How miraculous it is to reach into the other’s soul, to step into their humanity, especially when they aren’t standing in their own.

Without the darkness of our soul, there is no light. We are all ignorant, all things considered. I’ve grown to understand that I really don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t think any of us do. We are just stumbling through this obscure haze of life, drawn to an occasional light, which, when we come in close proximity with it, joins forces with our light, and we see a little more of this world and attain a minute amount of clarity, and that is a miracle, that is to experience the glory of God.