Satan Wrote the Bible

Ask anyone who believes in heaven what it is like and most will tell you they don’t know.

Have you thought about it?

Not really.

Would you say you live your life with the goal of getting into heaven?

Yes, of course.

What would you do differently if you didn’t believe in heaven?

Oh, I don’t know. I guess I wouldn’t necessarily follow the 10 Commandments.

You mean you might kill someone?

No, not that. I don’t know. Maybe I’d commit adultery.

You mean believing in Heaven is the only reason you don’t commit adultery? Some people believe dancing is a sin and even though they would like to dance they don’t because they want to get into heaven. Do you believe dancing is a sin?

No.

Is there anything like that that you don’t do because it would be a sin?

Not that I can think of.

Is masturbation a sin?

Yes.

Do you masturbate?

I’m not going to answer that.

OK. I think you have, but for people who think masturbation is a sin and yet they find it pleasurable to the extent that they do it anyway; if they believe it is a sin, aren’t they constantly feeling bad about doing something that might keep them out of heaven? Does it make sense to struggle with a conflict between one’s god-given body and religious belief of a heaven and give no thought to what heaven is like?

What is heaven like II

Those who do try to describe heaven usually have a lot of gold, silver, diamonds and other jewels radiating bright light. I like to sink my god-given feet into the soil (I seldom wear shoes) so I can’t imagine a worse place than one made of hard metals with stones scattered about. Give me grass, shade trees and garden soil rich in humus. Fill the air with the scents of flowers, moldering leaves, ocean spray. Lift my spirits with chirping brooks and bird songs and, please, please let there be sex.

The purpose of heaven was understood by the believer in the dialogue above. Heaven is the carrot for living a “moral life”—“Moral life” as defined in the same book that invented heaven.

Huck Finn couldn’t see any point in going to heaven if Aunt Polly was going to be there. Heaven for climate, Hell for company. The heaven that most people of faith aspire to is no place I want to be but I have found a heaven that does help me to live my life better. Ironically this “better life” is rather closely aligned with the morality described in the New Testament.

The heaven I have found is a place where everyone loves everyone. Other than that it is pretty much just like life here on earth. I envision a party with friends and at this party there is a game that we can play. We step into this closet or put on a virtual reality suit and we are “born” into this life. Just like with games as we know them here on earth we can play the game over and over and each time we get better at it. Before stepping into the game we can think about how we will play it. We may give ourself certain goals and pick a time and place to be born. Our friends on the other side can come into our game and be characters helping us, challenging us or testing us.

Here is an example of how it works.

I am an organic gardener and one of the things that takes up a fair amount of my time is chasing stripped cucumber beetles (CBs) on my squash plants. I have decided that the cucumber beetles are some of my friends from the party. They were hanging around the punch bowl watching me and…

CB 1 Let’s play hide and seek with Mort in the squash patch.

CB2 I’m game. Let’s make a side bet on who lasts the longest.

CB3 I know what I’m going to do. When he spots me I’m going to drop off the leaf.

CB1 Yeah, that works pretty well where he has mulch but he can spot you on the ground.

CB 2 I’m going to fly.

CB 4 How are you going to fly out of a blossom?

CB2 I’ll be on a leaf and keep my eye out for him.

CB 4 If I know you, you’ll be in a blossom screwing and when he comes along you will be oblivious. Your lady friend will probably start running and you won’t even get off her.

CB2 I guess you’re right. I’m not going to waste a life just hanging out. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he won’t see me.

This dialogue goes on as I mercilessly move down the row of squash plants picking off CBs, chasing those who drop onto the mulch and tunnel in, who drop and play dead or who drop and run. The blossoms will frequently have several mating couples making me think of a luridly painted yellow motel. Sometimes they will see me coming and watch me ready to fly if I move toward them. These I have learned to catch with a swift grab but others fly immediately and escape. This heaven I have invented helps me get through a job that might otherwise frustrate me perhaps to the point of anger. Instead of anger I am feeling playful and forgiving.

Yes, I am living my life as if it were a game. One of my friends from the other side came into the game as George W. Bush to try to take me off my goal of happiness and he succeeded for a time until I put him in his place. The place? Why among my friends who love me. When the game is over, when I die, and I go back to the party with my friends we will have some laughs over how I played the game and I expect some congratulations. I have this image of W pointing at me from across the room wagging his finger and saying, “I gotcha, buddy.” I’ll make my way across the room and we’ll high five and embrace and I’ll say, “Yeah, you got me you son-of-a-bitch.” He will take no offense at the appellation SOB because it was meant as a term of endearment.