James K. A. Smith summed up postmodernism in three words:  Interpretation is everything.  When the author is dead, and his intent along with him, the door is opened wide for an infinite number of alternative interpretations. 

As bad as this kind of subjectivism run amok may be, the rigid objectivism of modernity that created it isn't any better. 

It can't be denied that some things can have more than one interpretation (one thinks of a work of art that can genuinely have different meanings for different people).  But does this fact necessarily commit us to the assumption that everything can have an infinite number of interpretations?  And more importantly, can they all be right?

I'd like to suggest that the only thing this fact commits us to believing is, well, exactly what it says.  Some things can have more than one interpretation.  But notice that even if something can have more than one meaning, the implication is that all of its meanings must still be right or true meanings.  The logical leap comes when we assume that all potential meanings must be right ones.  I see no reason to assume that.

Instead, we should adopt a position I'll call "multi-objectivsim."  The sort of rigid objectivism of modernity leaves no room for legitimate cases of multiple meaning, and the subjectivism of postmodernity throws out objective meaning altogether.  So we might think of this as a more realistic middle ground.

Just in case you still aren't sold on the idea that one thing (whether art or literature) can have more than one legitimate meaning, consider the following example from the Old Testament.


In the time of Isaiah this verse had a specific meaning.  The child being referred to here is Isaiah's own child.  And the child's birth was a sign to Ahaz, King of Judah, that God would bring judgment upon him for refusing to trust in the Lord.  Now fast forward to the New Testament.  Matthew sites this verse in Isaiah as being fulfilled in the Virgin birth of Christ (Matt. 1: 22-23).  Well, which is it?  Does this verse refer to Isaiah's child or to Christ?

The obvious answer is that both interpretations are equally true.  But are we now free to assume that there are probably an infinite number of equally true meanings that we can ascribe to this verse (and every other verse in Scripture) as we see fit?  Not at all.  As before, this would require us to make a leap that we are not warranted in making.  Rather, we can affirm a multi-objectivism.  There is certainly more than one true meaning, but each meaning is still objectively true. 

Saint Augustine felt a considerable amount of anguish at being “in time.”  So much so that he considered it to be a part of salvation itself that we are saved from time into timelessness.  

But that raises an interesting question.  How can finite beings be timeless?  Our very finitude, by definition, seems to consign us to the temporal.  Try to imagine experiencing reality in any other way than “past-now-future” (or, as Augustine said, “memory-observation-expectation”) and you’ll be scratching your head for a long time (see, there’s that word again).  

Augustine was not setting out to give a philosophical account of time, but merely reflections on his own experience of time.  In a similar fashion, there might be a way to reconcile Augustine’s desire to be freed from the moment-by-moment passage of time and humanity’s “bondage” to the temporal.  

As the old saying goes, time flies when you’re having fun.  Thinking back on all of those moments in my life where I found this sentiment to be true, I can remember what seemed to be “timeless” experiences.  If you’ve ever had a moment where you suddenly looked at a clock and said, “Wow, is it that late already?” then you know basically what I’m talking about.  

As it turns out, there are only two kinds of situations that I can think of where the passage of time is actually self-evident:  (1) When one is bored or otherwise miserable and can’t wait for a certain amount of time to be over, or (2) when one is having the best time of his life and doesn’t want the time to come to an end (and so is constantly looking at his watch and dreading the impending end of his happiness).  With regard to (1) you could almost say that there is an inverse relationship between a person’s happiness and their awareness of the passage of time.  With a few exceptions, a general rule could be that the happier you are the less likely you are to notice time passing.  Since we can safely assume that times of boredom and misery will be scarce in Heaven, we can get rid of (1).  

What about (2)?  I think there are two ways to look at it.  You can deny that the person is actually happy whenever he checks his watch, because at the moment he does so he is actually feeling anxiety and not happiness.  But that could be debated.  A much simpler answer would be that, in Heaven, the very fact of eternity will mean that our happiness will literally never end.  And thus the dread of our happiness ending will never be a possibility.  

In one sense, then, it is not time itself that we are delivered from in salvation, but rather those conditions that make the passage of time so painful to us here on fallen, sinful Earth.  Just think back to what it felt like when you were experiencing one of those "timeless" moments, and then imagine feeling that way for all eternity, and I think you may just have a very dim idea of what Heaven will feel like.