There is an advertising campaign in print and on broadcast media which promotes some sort of sleep aid by showing Abraham Lincoln and a beaver palling around. They are supposed to be the inhabitants of some guy’s dreams – dreams he’s not having anymore, since he is not sleeping. I think the point the advertisements make is a stretch. I think some guy on Madison Avenue thought – “Hey, how can I work Abraham Lincoln and a beaver playing chess into a 23 second television commercial?” Now you all know my fondness and admiration for Mr. Lincoln. What you may not know is how fond I am of beavers. Yet, the juxtaposition the two – Abe and a beaver cooking brats on a Weber grill – is jarring; not dreamy, but creepy, nightmarish.

Not that I don’t love a jarring juxtaposition. When I was fifteen I had lots of posters on my walls: Cheryl Tiegs, Kate Jackson (my favorite Angel), the obligatory Farrah Fawcett-Majors – but on my door I had two guys chosen for the absurdity of their juxtaposition. On my door I had a poster of The Fonz, and a poster of Richard Milhouse Nixon. I did like The Fonz (it was 1977, 4 years before he jumped the shark), but was not particularly fond of Nixon at the time – I just liked the absurdity of their being together on my door. If I could have found a poster of Golda Meier I would have put her on the door and moved Farrah over to share it with her. My dream door would have been a poster of Gandhi and one of Jimmy “JJ” Walker from Good Times. Such a door would have been DYN-O-MITE!

Of course the 60’s and 70’s were a time of such jarring juxtapositions. Cable television has brought back some of the old shows which mixed an absurd array of celebrities. On one Dick Cavett Show rerun I saw Hubert Humphrey, Mickey Mantle and Janis Joplin share a couch. On a rerun of an old Cher Show I saw Lilly Tomlin, Kate Smith, and Ike&Tina dressed in band uniforms and singing “Sergeant Pepper” together. That’s a little creepier than Abe Lincoln and a beaver. That’s even creepier than Abe Lincoln, a beaver, and Betty Boop - doing a rap video.

Mark Twain is often quoted as saying “Heaven for the climate, but Hell for the society.” I’ve often thought he said such things to needle his next door neighbor – Harriet Beecher Stowe (there’s a jarring juxtaposition for you). This Twainism asserts that although the weather might be better in heaven, the crowd in hell will be a lot more fun. One way or the other, he knows now how wrong he was.

This gets one to thinking, though. Think about all the people from different places and times who will be brought together in heaven. We get a glimpse of this society of the saved, this collegiality of saints on the Mount of Transfiguration (Matthew 17, Mark 9, Luke 9) where Moses and Elijah have a visit with Jesus. The similarities in the careers and personalities of Moses and Elijah are many – yet they do come from completely different historical eras – divided by more years than George Washington and Dwight D. Eisenhower. If we saw those two generals having a sit-down with General Abizaid we would think it remarkable indeed. So we are not surprised that the disciples fell down on their faces, afraid when these two historical persons appear alongside of the glorified Lord.

I am one who believes we will know each other in heaven. I believe that “I will know fully even as I am fully known” (I Corinthians 13.12). I believe there will be no strangers in heaven. Think of that. Think of all the joyous juxtapositions of personalities. Think of all the great group conversations waiting to be had. Think of all the people you could sit and sing next to.

Then again, all that may only seem wonderful from an earthly, human perspective. The real juxtaposition that will matter will be our closeness to God - the eternal and palpable experience of his presence. I imagine that that will overwhelm everything else to the point that it is the only thing. The one knowledge will be knowledge of God. The one closeness will be closeness with God. The one joy will be the joy of God. That will, that must be everything.