"Praying privately in churches, I began to discover that heaven was my true home and also that it was here and now, woven into this life"
About this Quote
There is a quiet audacity in the way Blue smuggles eternity into the everyday. The line begins with an almost deliberately unglamorous scene: praying privately in churches. Not preaching, not debating theology, not performing faith for an audience. Privacy matters here because it strips religion of its public, tribal function and returns it to its most vulnerable setting: a single person trying to speak honestly to the divine. That modest entry point makes the conclusion feel earned rather than declared.
Blue’s intent is to collapse the usual religious geography. “Heaven” is typically positioned as the elsewhere that justifies the here; Blue flips the polarity. Heaven becomes “my true home” (language of belonging, not reward), but then he refuses to let it remain a future address. “Also that it was here and now” is the hinge: mystical without being evasive, corrective without being combative. He isn’t denying transcendence; he’s insisting that transcendence has texture.
The subtext is pastoral and a little defiant: if heaven is “woven into this life,” then the spiritual task is not escape but attention. “Woven” is doing heavy work, implying intimacy and interdependence rather than interruption. Heaven isn’t a bolt from above; it’s a thread you can miss if you’re only looking for spectacle.
Contextually, Blue’s life as a rabbi and broadcaster (and his public candor about being gay) makes this feel like more than poetic reassurance. It reads as a theology built for people whose lives don’t fit tidy religious scripts: a way to claim sanctity without waiting for permission, a way to find home without leaving the world.
Blue’s intent is to collapse the usual religious geography. “Heaven” is typically positioned as the elsewhere that justifies the here; Blue flips the polarity. Heaven becomes “my true home” (language of belonging, not reward), but then he refuses to let it remain a future address. “Also that it was here and now” is the hinge: mystical without being evasive, corrective without being combative. He isn’t denying transcendence; he’s insisting that transcendence has texture.
The subtext is pastoral and a little defiant: if heaven is “woven into this life,” then the spiritual task is not escape but attention. “Woven” is doing heavy work, implying intimacy and interdependence rather than interruption. Heaven isn’t a bolt from above; it’s a thread you can miss if you’re only looking for spectacle.
Contextually, Blue’s life as a rabbi and broadcaster (and his public candor about being gay) makes this feel like more than poetic reassurance. It reads as a theology built for people whose lives don’t fit tidy religious scripts: a way to claim sanctity without waiting for permission, a way to find home without leaving the world.
Quote Details
| Topic | Prayer |
|---|
More Quotes by Lionel
Add to List





