Is There a VIP Entrance to Heaven?

The phrase is so established that we rarely stop to consider what it actually says. If some people are explicitly categorised as very important, an implied ranking of everyone else immediately follows. In everyday life, we rarely mean that people literally have different human value. VIP is usually a ticket category, a security system, or an organisational solution. But language shapes the way we think, and environments shape how we understand our place in the world.

That is why the image of the priests becomes interesting.

It asks an old question in a modern form: Can a society speak about equality while constantly signalling rank?

It is a question that goes straight to the heart of Europe’s self-image.

The European social model is built to a large extent on ideas of human dignity, rights, equality before the law and social worth. After the experiences of the totalitarian systems of the twentieth century, institutions such as the Council of Europe, the European Convention on Human Rights, and later the European Union’s legal framework for fundamental rights were built around the idea that a person has value that should not depend on class, origin, religion, wealth or political position.

At the same time, Europe is full of hierarchies.

We have VIP lounges, diplomatic lanes, premium entrances, exclusive conferences, private dinners, members’ clubs, corporate networks and political meeting places where access effectively determines who gets to meet whom. In Brussels, an entire industry revolves around access to decision-makers. In Davos, political leaders, billionaires, corporate executives and opinion-makers gather behind extensive security arrangements. In the cultural sector there are premieres, backstage passes and private receptions. In business, people openly speak about “access”, relationships and networks.

None of this is necessarily wrong.

A modern society requires structure. A prime minister cannot be expected to stand in the same security queue as everyone else. A surgeon needs access to the operating theatre. A technician must be able to move behind the stage. A diplomat may require special security arrangements. Differences in access can be both necessary and rational.

The problem begins when function turns into valuation.

There is a crucial difference between saying that a person has a particular responsibility and suggesting that the person is therefore more valuable.

This is where those three red letters become symbolically charged.

Religion Has Already Asked the Question

The question of who receives the best seat is hardly new. It is explicitly present in the Christian tradition represented by the four men in the image.

In the Letter of James, two people arrive at a religious gathering. One is well dressed and wears gold rings. The other is poor and plainly dressed. The wealthy person is offered a good seat while the poor person is told to stand or sit on the floor. The text explicitly condemns this kind of favouritism.

What is striking is how concrete the scene is.

The discussion about human worth is conducted through something as simple as a seat.

Who gets the chair?

Who has to stand?

Who sits at the front?

Who is considered worthy of attention?

The same theme appears in the Gospel of Luke, where Jesus criticises people for seeking the places of honour at meals. The perspective is then deepened further by the suggestion that people should also invite those who cannot repay the invitation.

It is a radical idea even today.

Perhaps especially today.

Because much of modern social life is still built on the opposite question:

What can this person do for me?

Networks as Currency

We live in a time when networks have become almost a form of economic currency.

LinkedIn is built around them.

Politics is built around them.

Business is built around them.

The cultural sector is built around them.

Large parts of the events industry are built around them as well.

Who knows whom?

Who can open the door?

Who can make the introduction?

Who sits at the right table?

Who has the right phone number?

On paper, Europe defends equality. In practice, large parts of our professional and social environments function through selective access.

That does not mean that all networks are suspicious. People naturally work with those they know and trust. But when access becomes more important than competence, a democratic problem emerges. When decisions are shaped in rooms that those affected cannot enter, the distance between institutions and citizens grows.

This is one of the major tensions in contemporary Europe.

A Europe of Open Societies and Closed Rooms

European institutions constantly work with questions of transparency, lobbying, conflicts of interest and democratic participation. At the same time, many Europeans feel that power is increasingly distant from their everyday lives.

It is not difficult to understand why.

Decisions may be discussed among ministers, advisers, civil servants, lobbyists and corporate representatives long before ordinary citizens hear anything about them. By the time the process becomes public, much may already have been decided.

Formal democracy still functions.

But informal access is unevenly distributed.

A large organisation can hire people whose only job is to monitor political processes, build relationships and maintain access. A small company, a self-employed person or an ordinary citizen rarely has equivalent resources.

Here, the VIP principle returns in a more sophisticated form.

No sign needs to say “Very Important Person”.

Access communicates it anyway.

Ranking Is Everywhere

The same mechanism exists in workplaces.

Many European companies describe themselves as flat organisations. The doors are open, titles are informal and everyone is supposedly encouraged to speak.

Yet it is often obvious whose words carry the most weight.

An idea can be ignored when it comes from a junior employee and applauded when the same idea is later expressed by a senior manager. A specialist can warn of a technical problem and still be overruled until the cost becomes impossible to ignore. Someone without the right title may have extensive practical knowledge but very little organisational influence.

Status also affects the way people are treated.

We often change our behaviour when we learn who someone is.

A person may be treated with indifference until it becomes known that she is a professor, CEO, politician, famous artist or major investor. Suddenly the tone changes. The body language changes. The attention changes.

The person is exactly the same.

The only thing that changed was our perception of her social value.

That sits uneasily beside the idea of equal human dignity.

The People Who Keep Society Running

The pandemic gave Europe a strange reminder of how quickly our understanding of who is “important” can change.

When large parts of society shut down, the language of essential workers became widespread.

Suddenly attention shifted towards nurses, care workers, drivers, warehouse staff, cleaners, supermarket employees, technicians, delivery workers and people involved in food supply.

Many of these professions had long carried relatively low status and, in several cases, relatively low pay.

But when society was tested, their importance became immediately visible.

It revealed something fundamental.

Status and social importance are not the same thing.

The person with the highest salary is not automatically the one whose absence society would feel most quickly.

The person receiving the most media attention is not necessarily the person keeping the infrastructure alive.

Modern societies are enormous systems of interdependence. Millions of people perform tasks every day that others take for granted. Water comes from the tap. Electricity works. Buses run. Waste is collected. Hospitals stay open. The internet functions. Goods arrive in shops.

Most of the people who make this possible will never be called VIPs.

Yet everyday life would collapse surprisingly quickly without them.

The Price of Status

There is also a psychological dimension.

Hierarchies do not only affect those at the bottom. They affect those at the top as well.

When a person is constantly treated with respect, agreement and special service, that person’s view of reality can gradually change. The more power someone has, the harder it can become for those around them to disagree openly.

Organisations in which people fear losing their position tend to produce silence.

No one wants to be the first to tell senior management that the project is failing.

No one wants to risk a career by saying that the strategy is wrong.

No one wants to lose a seat at the table.

Status can therefore create information problems.

Those at the top may sometimes know less about what is really happening at the bottom.

That is dangerous in companies.

It is dangerous in public institutions.

And it is dangerous in democracies.

Dignity Is Not the Same as Uniformity

An obvious objection quickly appears.

Should everyone really be treated in exactly the same way?

No.

Equality does not mean uniformity.

An older person may need a seat.

A person with a disability may need special access.

A security officer must be able to enter areas closed to others.

Someone carrying specific responsibility may need quicker access to information and better working conditions.

A society without roles would stop functioning very quickly.

But the role does not have to become a ranking of the person.

It is possible to say:

Production.

Press.

Security.

Artist.

Delegation.

Staff.

Speaker.

Those words describe a function.

“Very Important Person” describes something else.

It describes relative human importance.

Perhaps that is why the expression still feels uncomfortable once we actually think about what it means.

Europe’s Real Values

Europe is also going through a period of deep social unease.

Economic differences are widening in several countries. Housing is becoming more expensive. Many young people feel that entering the labour market and building an independent life has become more difficult. Trust in political institutions is under pressure, while populist movements continue to gain ground.

In such a climate, dignity matters.

People often accept large differences in responsibility and income as long as they believe the system is understandable and reasonably fair.

What creates bitterness is not always that someone else has more.

It is the feeling that the rules are not the same.

That some people enter through another door.

That some calls are returned.

That some mistakes have consequences while others are explained away.

That some people seem to stand above the system.

This is why VIP culture is bigger than a sign at an event.

It is about legitimacy.

Is There a VIP Entrance to Heaven?

The image of the four priests eventually becomes almost philosophical.

Is there a VIP entrance to heaven?

A theologian could give a very long answer.

Symbolically, however, the question is simpler.

If human dignity is truly universal, it cannot depend on a pass, a bank account, social status or a title.

That is also the idea behind much of Europe’s modern human rights order.

A human being has value before having a job.

Before becoming successful.

Before receiving a title.

Before anyone recognises the name.

And that value remains when all of those things disappear.

The challenge is not to abolish every hierarchy. That would be neither possible nor desirable.

The challenge is to distinguish function from human worth.

We need people with responsibility.

We need leaders.

We need experts.

We need security systems and, sometimes, separate entrances.

But we also need to remember that the person on the other side of the rope is not automatically less significant.

Perhaps that is exactly why the image works.

Four priests.

One bench.

Three red letters.

VIP.

And behind that simple scene, a much larger European question:

How do we build societies where people can have different roles without beginning to believe that they therefore have different value?