“The Difference between Heaven and Hell”
    by the Rev. Dennis McCarty
	There’s a story about a fellow to whom God granted a vision--he got to tour both Heaven and Hell, just to see what they were like. They visited Hell first and found it to be a place of true misery. As a subtle-yet-terrible punishment, everyone’s forearms and lower legs had been made longer, so that they all became stilt people. They had everything they needed in great quantity, but they couldn’t take care of themselves. 
	There were beautiful rivers in Hell, with trees and bushes full of luscious fruit lining the banks. But even though the people might wade right into the water, they couldn’t drink because their legs were so long. They couldn’t stoop far enough for their lips to reach the water. 
	They could pick the fruit, but they couldn’t eat it.
Their forearms were so long, they couldn’t get their fingers to their mouths. They had no choice but to lie on the ground to lick water from mudpuddles, or eat rotten fruit that had fallen from the trees, to keep from starving.
	To make their misery even more bitter, there were tables with every wonderful dish you could imagine.
But all unavailable because their limbs were so clumsy. Everyone was famished and dirty because they couldn’t wash themselves or comb their hair or brush their teeth.
	There were bookshelves with all the holy books of all the world’s religions, but no one could read them.
With their long forearms, they couldn’t hold them close enough to see the print.
	There were musical instruments, but no one could play them. A man might pick up a trumpet, but he couldn’t put it to his lips to blow through it. A woman might pick up a violin, but she wouldn’t be able to steady it against her body so she could apply the bow to the strings.
	Everywhere the visitor looked, there was weeping and gnashing of teeth. People were miserable and frustrated in the midst of such inaccessable plenty.
In their frustration, they got into fights and were constantly hurting one another.
	“What a terrible place,” the man said, with tears in his eyes. “Yes, this misery makes me weep, too,” God said. “But this was their choice, not mine.”
	The man was puzzled. How could God say that their misery was their own choice? What choice did they have?
	Then they visited Heaven. To the man’s surprise, everything was exactly the same. Same gently flowing rivers, same trees, same tables groaning under rich food, same books, same musical instruments. And the people looked the same, with their ridiculously long forearms and legs.
	“I don’t get it,” he cried. “There’s no difference.”
	“Oh, yes there is,” God replied. “Watch.” And before the visitor’s eyes, a woman took a cup from the banquet table, scooped water out of the stream, and gave it to a thirsty man, who took a morsel of food from the table and fed it to her in return. 
	A Christian was holding a holy book, the Dhamapada, for a Buddhist to read, while the Buddhist was holding a Bible for the Christian to read. There was music because people had learned to hold the instruments for one another and play them together.
	“You’re partly right,” God said. “The two places are exactly the same. Except in Heaven, people have learned to work together.”
	Our world is a lot like this story. We have everything we need. We could make it into Heaven if we cooperated. Sometimes we do, but often it’s no more than we absolutely have to. 
	Too often, this is most true of the world’s religions. Secular Europeans make fun of Islam, so fundamentalist Moslems riot in indignation. In Palestine, Jewish Zionists riot when their government tries to give back occupied Palestinian land. Islamic terrorists bomb innocent people, while Israeli death squads routinely assassinate Palestinian leaders.
	We like to say we’re better--but when Gulf War I was starting, I heard some so-called Christians rejoicing that this was an opportunity to end Islam once and for all. And right here in Indana, I hear religious fundamentalists judge people of other faiths, insisting that they’ll suffer eternal punishment because of what they believe. That’s may not be physical violence, but it’s violence of the spirit.
	During the religious wars of the Reformation, the various branches of Christianity killed millions (yes, with six zeroes,) of one another--all in the name of the Prince of Peace.
	Religion should bring out the best in people.
Sometimes, it does. But too often, too many of us use our religion to show that “we” are somehow better than “they” are. And “we” deserve good things, while “they”
deserve misery. We can make all the excuses we want, but God must weep to see it.
	It doesn’t have to be this way.
	
	
The Reverend Dennis McCarty is a Unitarian Universalist minister living in Columbus. His opinions are his own, and not necessarily shared by members of his church. He can be reached by e-mail at columnists@therepublic.com