One of my daughters gave me a book for Christmas called A Year to Live. The subtitle is How to Live This Year as If It Were Your Last. I’m unsure if she is worried about my health or just hopeful that I’ll be ready (and not holding anyone back) to go wherever people go. I recently read an article about a small group of “parapsychologists” at a university in Virginia who study people, usually young children, who seem to ‘remember’ living a past life.
I smiled as I remembered my first year as a priest. I was asked to teach religion daily to students in grades five through eight at our parochial school. I wanted to engage the students in our studies, but I couldn’t get the fifth and sixth graders to discuss anything; they were too used to sitting still in their chairs and being told to learn all the absolute truths that I, the wise and loving messenger from God, would share with them. Even then, I was convinced I was a phony, not as wise or loving as they believed.
When I finished, a cheeky girl named Carol asked if she could use the chalkboard (the whiteboard had yet to arrive). I said, "Sure." She approached the board, picked up a piece of chalk, and drew two circles on the left side of the very wide board.
She wrote Joe over one circle and Jack over the other. “I call on Joe because he was a very good Joe. He loved his wife and children and was kind to everyone.” Then, she drew a wobbly line upward and over to the right side of the board, creating a circle near the top as high as she could reach. She returned to the left side and made a downward wobbly line to the bottom of the board, saying, “I named this one Jack because he was mean and stubborn like a bad mule—he was a Jackass.” She drew a short line through Joe’s lifeline and said, “Then Good Joe commits a mortal sin, and before he can go to Confession, he dies and goes to hell.” She drew another line for Joe plunging to hell. “According to our teacher here,” she pointed at me, then returned to the left side of the board, making a series of marks along Jack’s lifeline, and continued, “Now Jackass is a very sinful fellow heading right down to hell, but then realizing how sinful he has been, he goes to Confession; or is dunked by some preacher or declares himself as a believer in Jesus, and bingo.” She drew a straight line up to heaven and added, “And, by golly, Jackass is no longer an ass; he is in heaven."
Then she looks at me in a defiant way and says, "Now, if you say that's how God operates, Father Don, I’m not believing another word you say!” Carol turned up her nose and proudly marched back to her desk. I told her I wouldn't say that (even though, I had been very close.) and I clapped, and the rest of the class joined me. That was one of my earliest steps towards doubting the rigid teachings of my Catholic faith.
Wanting to hear John and Mary’s thoughts on all this, I recounted that eye-opening day from sixty years ago. First, they laughed, then Mary cried, saying, “Don, that is so sad. Jesus never, ever wanted people to be afraid of dying and being with the Father. We are all born with the ability to be kind, compassionate, and joyfully loving. And yes, we are ‘sinful,’ meaning we are unfinished as created beings and will stumble and fail as we journey through life, but for the love of God our Father, we are never disconnected from Him.”
John added, “Both Mary and I heard Jesus say as he hung from that cursed cross, ‘Father, into Your hands, I commend my Spirit.’ Those are the only words Jesus spoke about the nature of life after death. So, dear Don, please dismiss any thoughts about a horrible judgment regarding not being with God, Our Father. I’m sure it will be pure bliss.” Mary agreed, stating, “I concur with John.” And with those happy thoughts, I disappeared again. Now . . .
Find a blissful place in your mind and heart, dismiss the menus of doom, and partake in the banquet.
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