A Paradise Beyond The Stars
“Today you will be with me in Paradise.”
“Space, the final frontier.” Fans of the Star Trek franchise will recognize that phrase, coined by Gene Roddenberry and his team in 1966 for their production of the original series. Drawing American fascination with exploration and President Kennedy’s description of the space race as a “new frontier,” this tagline has become a familiar part of our culture. In part, this is because it resonates with our deep human longing for “more.” Even in our most content moments on this earth, we are aware of the possibility and the desire for more.
That same longing for more is on display in the unique historical and cultural moment of Acadiana’s recent designation as the site of a new spaceport. SpaceX is moving into Cajun country - into our beloved diocese of Lafayette - and it has ignited all kinds of excitement and speculation about how much “more” it will bring into our lives. Will the next bishop of Lafayette become bishop of Mars? Will Acadiana become like the futuristic cities we see in Sci-fi, just with a Cajun accent? Will this moment be like every other frontier moment - one that radically changes the culture and ends up costing us some of our heritage? Whether someone is a supporter of or in opposition to this event, all can agree that it stirs up a whole lot of speculation about the future and what the next “more” will look like. The wisest on all sides should also agree that it helps to remember all great moments come to an end, life is short, and nothing on this earth (or in the stars) will completely blot out that sense that something is missing.
This is, of course, because of Original Sin. We always feel like something is missing because it is. The original graces which united the human race to God were lost in Original Sin and not even baptism restores them. Baptism wipes away original sin and configures us to Christ as adopted sons and daughters, but it does not immediately grant immortality or perfect union with God. Until we stand face-to-face with God, there will always be a “new frontier” that our hearts point to, a “more” that seems just out of reach. With all due respect to the rhetorical skill of President Kennedy and the marketing genius of the creators of Star Trek, space is not the final frontier. Heaven is.
That’s just one reason that Jesus’ words from the cross - Today you will be with me in Paradise - have continued to move hearts and inspire works of art ever since they were uttered. Hanging from a cross as a condemned criminal, Dismas the “good thief” certainly had many good reasons to want more. Yet it was not the physical suffering or shame that lay at the root of his request to be remembered by Jesus. Indeed, that pain and worldly loss are the reason he was able, probably for the first time in his life, to see clearly where he could finally find the “more” he had been chasing all his life. The brigandry, the thievery, the lawbreaking, and whatever evils he had committed throughout his life were a twisted expression of this astronomical desire for more. Reaping the just rewards of his sins, he finally sees past the lies of worldly wealthy and glory to the one place that “more” can finally become “enough.”
As we get excited about SpaceX’s promises of more or are outraged at all the ways SpaceX will take way the things we want “more” of, it is good to place ourselves on the cross with Dimas. Whether you’re on top of the world (or beyond it in space!) or at rock bottom, look more deeply at that aspiration, that “frontier” which tells you satisfaction is just a little further. Name it. Tell it the truth: “dear heart of mine, the frontier you want is not any of that. It is heaven. It is God himself.” Then meditate on the fact that, actually, you already have God if you wish it. Today, you already have one foot in a paradise beyond anything offered by Mars, Betelgeuse, or Proxima Centauri b.
Maybe you get to watch a rocket ship, build one, or even ride in one… and maybe you won’t. There’s nothing wrong with delighting in the good things or lamenting the evil things that may or may not occur. What’s more important, however, is that whatever comes, you can draw a little closer to paradise through a good confession or worthy reception of communion or finally starting the process to remove whatever is barring you from those gifts. Ships might reach the starts, but the sacraments lead us to a paradise beyond the stars.
