Would I want immortality? [Bryan]

My sister just asked a question: Suppose you could drink from the fountain of youth and be forever immortal -- would you do it?

My answer was no. In fact, I'm wary of all forms of immortality, even one in a glorious afterlife. The ancient Greeks had it at least partially right: immortality is a curse that turns a life into a triviality. For the Greeks, the immortal gods were often creatures of derision who were reduced to playing pranks on humans like immature children. Humans were granted dignity precisely because they were forced to strive against the looming fate of death. Mortal humans were called to create things that would transcend their own lives, things that would last even though they themselves were gone. Immortality does not call us to act in this way, they thought.

I can see why they thought this. In immortality, accomplishment means nothing since, after all, you've had forever to practice (it is like a student who does well on the test because they had extra time to work on it). Death brings a sense of urgency to life; it forces you make decisions about priorities. These decisions show what you value and they become an expression of who you are. Immortality asks no such decisions of you. You can spend hours upon hours wasting time because you will always have more of it. There is no fierce urgency of "now."

And the boredom. I can't imagine living so long so as to have done it all. I can't imagine having read every book, having explored every corner, having met every person. (One of the attractions of the Mormon afterlife, is that it holds out the possibility of real creation and endless expansion of learning).

In the end, though, when I think of family relationships possibly ending someday, it does hurt. These relationships are things, of all things, that I think I would want to continue forever. So my vision of the perfect afterlife is this: consciousness of the presence of loved ones (both loving them and being loved by them) and of absolutely nothing else. No sense of time, nothing. Well, maybe a sense of eating chocolate chip cookies, too. But that's it.

As usual, Buffy the Vampire Slayer says it best in her description of heaven:

BUFFY: I was happy. Wherever I ... was ... I was happy. At peace. I knew that everyone I cared about was all right. I knew it. Time ... didn't mean anything ... nothing had form ... but I was still me, you know? And I was warm ... and I was loved ... and I was finished. Complete. I don't understand about theology or dimensions, or ... any of it, really ... but I think I was in heaven. And now I'm not. I was torn out of there. Pulled out ... by my friends. Everything here is ... hard, and bright, and violent. Everything I feel, everything I touch ... this is Hell. Just getting through the next moment, and the one after that ... (softly) knowing what I've lost... (gets up, walks towards the sunlight, pauses, not looking back) They can never know. Never. (continues into the sunlight)