Oh God - Part Thirteen

Oh God = Part Thirteen

“It is really nice Schwartz,” commented God rather deliberately, “that you and I can sit here at the dinner table and casually discuss all the world’s problems in a friendly and relaxed manner without rancor or blame. Best thing I ever did was to make this family dinner table. It’s a good job Jesus was such a good carpenter. He put a lot more in it than just wood.”

Schwartz could feel it too. There was a genuine warmth around the table, inviting friendship and a sense of belonging. He’d never felt that at Satan’s place. Oh, there was lots of partying, screaming and yelling going on but somehow it felt cold. It was like everyone was trumpeting their own importance, trying to outdo the others. Well you couldn’t blame them. It was the only way to get ahead. You had to trumpet your own importance louder and more often than anybody else. What was that saying: ‘The squeaky wheel gets the grease’? Of course, they didn’t have to do that any more but they were so accustomed to it, they couldn’t quit. The noise and chaos was enough to give even Schwartz a supreme headache.  Sitting here with God and the others was enough to cause him to want to abandon his former boss. “Whatever happened to Purgatory for those people in hell? Aren’t they supposed to be asleep?” said Schwartz.

“They had a choice. They could either go to sleep until judgment day, or carry on with their antics. They are obviously beyond redemption, come judgment day.”

“Oh,” commented Schwartz. “How did I get here then?

“You’ll notice that this is a pretty big table. It’s almost endless. There are some pretty big sinners sitting at it who thought they’d try out our side of things and have come to prefer it. But you are a special project of Satan’s. He sent you here to disrupt my concerns about human behaviour. He’s such a jackass that it never occurred to him you might prefer the sanctity of a dinner table where family and reason prevail, much as some of the others.”

Schwartz looked around and sure enough the table seemed almost endless. The multitude of people around it was varied. They certainly weren’t all angels, that was for sure. Yet they were all comfortably conversing with one another, thoroughly at home in this environment. “So, what’s with the people partying an’ dancin’ an’ yellin’ their stupid heads off in hell? What about them?” he pondered almost absently.

“Oh, those are people who sold their souls to the devil. They bypassed purgatory altogether and went straight to hell. There’s not much chance for them to be ransomed outa there.”

“Hm,” said Schwartz.