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Thursday, January 29, 2004
Flavier: The parable of the exciting hell
By Sen. Juan Flavier
THE governor died and instantly found himself in the life beyond. He fidgeted nervously as he was uncertain where he would eventually end up. From his life’s record, he sort of expected to land in hell. He began to regret his numerous shady deals and corrupt practices.
He was cold but perspiring when Saint Peter began to speak to him. "Welcome, Mr. Governor. I hope you are ready for your stay."
"Well, I hope so, too," the governor responded though not knowing what the good saint meant. "Maybe, it depends on where I am headed."
"Oh, we do not know yet. It’s your choice. Tell you what, I will let you tour both heaven and hell. Have a look around. Then you decide where you want to spend the rest of your eternal life. How’s that?"
"Saint Peter, you mean I actually have a choice of whether to go to heaven or hell? I did not expect this but alright, I am ready to see both places now!"
And so the governor was led to heaven. The place was clean and orderly. In fact, too clean for the governor’s tastes. Everything was white. Robes, halos, wings, and even the harps were pearly white. The monotony of it all was compounded as everyone silently strolled among the white fluffy clouds. The governor found the place dull and unappealing.
Next, he was brought down to hell. His heart skipped with excitement. The greenery resembled a well-maintained golf course with people in colorful get-ups playing. There was a horse race in progress on one side. In the distance, he could see glowing neon lights of casinos, nightclubs, and bars. People were having the excitement of their lives. The governor was reminded of his life on earth.
So when he returned to Saint Peter, there was no doubt in his mind. "I choose to stay in hell. It is certainly for me and I know I will have a pleasant stay."
And so to hell he went. But this time, the place was dark and drab. He was shoved into a dungeon where his arms and legs were chained. A cauldron of boiling oil awaited him.
"Wait a minute," he complained as he struggled against the chains. "I demand to talk to Lucifer. It was not like this just this morning!"
"I am Lucifer," growled the man fanning the fire under the cauldron. "This morning, you were a tourist. Now, you are a resident."
(January 29, 2004 issue)
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