         |
|
 |
|
21 December 2008My view of heaven From a very early age we are told that heaven is a place of comely clouds, airy angels and peacefully pleasant people. We are taught that hell is a place of fire, of demons, of haunted suffering souls. Perhaps this is true, but I have yet to meet a soul who's holidayed in either and returned to tell the tale. In the mean time, you'll have to muddle through my conjecture. In the hell I see, you are surrounded by an endless banquet of the finest foods ever prepared. I dare say even better than my mom's. There are biscuits and croissants and homemade marmalades. Fresh blackberry jams and jellies are no more than an arm's length away. There are hams and yams and pheasants galore. Roasted duck shares the table with lamb kabobs, naan and saffron rice. Oh the saffron rice. Fanciful fruits and vegetables of the ripest fields fill the empty spaces between people and plates. Little bowls are filled with sweet cream butter just waiting for a chance to meet your toast. Goblets and glasses filled with wine and spirits accompany teas and smoothies freshly made. There is no direction that you can see where there isn't something more delicious than the place you looked previously. Millions and billions, and perhaps even thousands, share a place at this vast banquet, yet not a soul is eating. In hell, the food never gets cold, the enticing scent never dissipates. A sweetly savory steam rises from turkey stew simmering nearby. Yes, hell is a place of endless reward and limitless suffering. But how could anyone suffer in such a place? The condemned seated at this colossal fete are unable to eat, for they have forks and spoons strapped tight to length of their arms. Wrists and elbows are unable to bend the trapped souls closer to the food they cannot eat. Their necks are uncranable making the snacks unsnackable. The suffering is as infinite as the feast. The souls, so consumed by their own torment hardly notice the suffering of their neighbor, much less the one missing ingredient that makes all the trappings tastier. Incidentally, it's the same ingredient that makes the sun shine shinier, the water waterier, the carrots crunchier, and the companionship closer. As you may have by now guessed, the lost enchantment is love. Love is missing. The love of family, the love of friends, the love of God. So they sit and sit and sit until it's time to sit some more. The food's still warm, but the tortured see the longer side of eternity before the food sees the inside of their stomachs. In heaven there is the same bounty with buttery croissants, honey-roasted hams, blackberry jams and endless glasses of wine. Roasted chicken shares space with freshly caught salmon fillets, and a good pot of chili gurgles close. Many trillions and quadrillions, and maybe millions, of rewarded souls in heaven have forks and spoons strapped tightly to their arms. They too cannot bend their wrists and elbows, but suffer they do not. At the banquet table in heaven, everyone enjoys every effervescent eat because in the presence of love, in the presence of God, they feed each other. By feeding our neighbors, we feed ourselves. The preceding is a transcript from a podcast using my very best Jude Law narration. Labels: Creative Writing, Faith, Family, Food, Heaven, Homeless, Justin Schuck, Podcast, Religion, Volunteer Subscribe to Posts [Atom] 
|
|
|
Post a Comment
Let me know what you think.