Heaven and Hell
I found this great vacation package on Travelocity the other day. The description was brief: "Visit Heaven and Hell. Package includes transportation, experienced tour guide, and all tips and transfers. $125.00 plus tax."
I thought, "Now that's a great price!" (I love a bargain.)
So I signed up immediately. As soon as I clicked on the button to charge the fee to my credit card, there was a puff of smoke and my tour guide appeared, offering a handshake and grinning widely. "Hi," he said. "The name is Virgil. Uh…Bill, right?"
"Right," I replied, smiling. (I love prompt service.) "How do we get started?"
"Well, its your choice. Which would you like to visit first?"
It didn't take long for me to decide. "Virgil, I've been given a piece of advice repeatedly throughout my life by different people in a variety of situations. They look straight at me and say, 'Why don't you go straight to Hell!' They are always very emphatic; it must be good advice."
"Fair enough," Virgil said. "Just step into this hand basket and we'll be there in two shakes."
This was my first trip in a hand basket. (I hope it will be my last. The wicker was uncomfortable, all they served was pretzels, and the drinks were overpriced.)
I tell you, I was really surprised by what I found at the destination. I expected it to look like Hell, but instead, it looked a lot like a picnic. There was a very, very long wooden table with attached benches on either side, piled high with the best looking smorgasbord of tasty food I had ever seen. Pretty soon, the Damned started filing in, sitting in their seats on opposite sides of the table, and smacking their lips.
"Virgil, you've taken a wrong turn," I said. "This can't be Hell; this must be Heaven!"
"No, Bill, look closer: you'll see."
Sure enough, I did. Hell's residents looked normal at first glance, but they had one peculiar deformity. They had no elbows! So, they could touch the feast, but try as they might, they could not bring it to their lips. The atmosphere of frustration was overwhelming; the pitiful moans, deafening.
"Well, I'll be damned! This is Hell, after all."
"Yup," Virgil nodded. "You know, this place can get depressing. Want to see Heaven?"
"Sure," I agreed.
It was a much more pleasant trip this time. We went on angel's wings. (One piece of advise, though: keep your eyes on the horizon, and don't look down.) Pretty soon, we had arrived in Heaven.
Once again, I was really surprised by the appearance. Heaven looked a lot like a picnic. There were very, very long tables laden with all kinds of food…
"Hey, wait a minute, Virgil," I demanded. "Surely you've taken a wrong turn this time. We're back in Hell, right?"
"Be patient, Bill. Just watch for a minute." Virgil seemed kind of misty-eyed.
"Ah," I though. "I get it. I'll bet that here in Heaven, the residents will have elbows!"
But, no. It was exactly the same. The elbow-less residents of Heaven lined up on opposite sides of the picnic tables, once again able to touch the food, but unable to bring it to their mouths.
"You have to be wrong about this, Virgil. This is Hell!"
Virgil turned and looked straight at me with those misty eyes. "Look closer, Bill," he said softly. "Here in Heaven, they feed each other."
I'm constantly forgetting Virgil's lesson from that little story (adapted from an ancient Buddhist parable). I come home tired from work, worried about something or another, and find that my wife is in a crabby mood, worried about something or another. I conclude, "I'd better avoid her until she cheers up; I would just be adding to my misery if I talked with her now."
I've made Hell out of Heaven.
Or, I'm in the checkout line at the supermarket, running late, and the mother of two in front of me can't empty her cart fast enough. She is holding her crying two-year-old in the crook of one arm, and has only one hand free. I switch to a faster lane instead of helping her.
I've made a decision to live among the Damned.
Don't follow my example. Don't forget that you have a choice. Giving to others in a time of real need does indeed help the other person, but it stands to help you even more. The fact that you may get fed yourself is actually trivial; what is important is that you will feel better from the act of feeding others.
The feast is right there in front of you. You can decide to stare at it and curse your lack of elbows, or look across the table at your fellow sufferers, and follow the advice in the prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi:
…grant that I may not so much seek
By acting as an angel, you will realize that you live among angels. By being heaven-sent, you may be sent straight to Heaven.
a short essay by Dr. Whitehead
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive…
