From My 8-year-old Mind
A Halo For Me?
God and St. Pete must shop at the same men’s store; they dress so much alike. They could even be twins, except for God being much larger than Pete. Both have very long white beards that are perfectly trimmed–maybe they also see the same barber. And they both dress in long, soft white robes made from the finest linen and cotton, you know, the expensive stuff on the top shelf of the fabric store.
God sounds a little scary! Grandma says he’s larger-than-life. Towering over everyone, this mighty white dude sits on a mountain of white cushions surrounded by a sparkly white throne made from clouds and angel dust. He wears white sandals that caress and massage, and maybe even tickle his feet. I wonder how he keeps those sandals oh so white. Nary a speck of dust or dirt on them forever!
Oh, and above his head floats a white and gold halo crown that actually glows in the dark. It’s the coolest thing ever.
Once, I asked my Auntie if I could ask Santa for one of those halos, “God’s halo is so pretty.” I said longingly.
She said, “No.”
“Then, when I die, can I have one?” I asked, pouting.
Again, she said, “No.”
“Why not?” I was not happy to hear what came next.
“Only God, angels, and St. Pete are allowed to wear halos.”
“When I die, I want to be an angel, and then I can have a halo!” I stubbornly announced.
“It doesn’t work that way!” Auntie shouted in frustration.
I stomped out of the room, grabbed the Sears and Roebuck Catalogue from the bathroom, and went to my room, quietly closing the door so Auntie wouldn’t know I was taking this issue to the ultimate extreme. Grandma Ruby always said, “If it ain’t in the Sears and Roebuck catalogue, it just doesn’t exist.” I was determined to find myself a halo.
Dang! No halos to be found anywhere.
From Auntie, I learned that God and St. Pete reside in a place called Heaven, where angels are said to hover everywhere. Everyone who resides in Heaven moves around by floating gently on soft white clouds. And everyone is happy and smiling all the time, their white-white teeth sparkling. Obviously, they see the dentist regularly.
So I figured that God & St. Pete are the good dudes, the kind of down-home Bubbas we want to hang around. And they wear halos. I still want a halo.
Beelzebub, Oh The Devil
Like all good stories, there is also an antagonist–enter Beelzebub, more commonly known as The Devil.
Beelzebub was really, really bad.
God and Beelzebub possessed strong, amazing magical powers that no one else had. But something had gone haywire. They were supposed to use these powers to create life, not destroy it. There was simply too much temptation for that ol’ Devil to do only good. He just couldn’t help himself. It was his nature.
Beelzebub was jealous of God and St. Pete. Those two were buddies, always together, laughing and singing. Two Bubbas, enjoying life as BFF. In his anger, Beelzebub started making fun of them, bullying them to get their attention.
“You two have no magical powers. You think you’re powerful, but you’re not. I’m the one who can make things happen. Just watch!” He took great pleasure in teasing and chasing the angels, tugging at their wings and halos. God and St. Pete were aghast.
When God stood up to attend to a new soul for a few moments, Beelzebub had the audacity to sit on God’s throne and proclaim, “I’m the greatest of them all!” The angels were appalled and tried to get him to stop, but it was to no avail. He continued to harass the angels and bully anyone around him.
He was just bad to the bone. Finally, there came a point when God simply had no other choice but to evict him from Heaven. That ol’ Devil had poked and prodded and bullied to the point of making everyone, even God, uncomfortable. So he was booted out and never allowed back.
But Beezlebub was not one to tolerate being shunned. He was a rebel, committed to doing evil just because he could, and was extremely angry at being thrown out of Heaven. His fury was out of control. He swore he’d get even.
Beelzebub searched in all the cracks and crannies throughout the entire universe looking for the perfect place to build his new home. He finally found a massive cave out on the very edge of all that exists. It was large and cold and dark and remote–perfect for him and his insidious evil. With the power of his rage, he lined the walls and floors with hot volcanic rock that would ignite in flames whenever he so desired. He called his new home Hell.
He crafted a throne from the volcanic stone, so hard and cold, like his heart. Of course, he believed his seat of power was much larger than God’s. He lined his throne with bloody red thorns to remind him of his pain, which he would inflict on everyone else.
Beelzebub shaved his head and burned his robes. He pilfered bolts of heavy black silk and black wool cloth from a blind beggar woman in East India. He fashioned his black suit from the silk he stole and made his cloak out of the heavy, dark wool. He wore deep black pointy-toed boots that scrunched his feet.
Next, he fashioned a crown from two horns that he procured from a wailing water buffalo. “Hehe, that’s a nasty power to have—get near me and I’ll bludgeon you ‘til you scream!” Now, instead of the lightness and purity of white, he was totally clad in the heaviest, darkest black from head to toe—ready to inflict the most awful pain.
Being rather egotistical, he loved seeing himself in the mirror, fancying himself to be hypnotically handsome. Beelzebub shaved his beard, remarking, “Beards are only something ugly white men wear to cover their faces.” He donned a slick black goatee with a mustache and a permanent sneer.
There were no angels to keep Beelzebub company in Hell. Instead, he surrounded himself with misery, darkness, and suffering slaves, those pathetic souls that didn’t make it through the Pearly Gates. He dressed the slaves in black and made them schlep around heavy chains draped around their necks and waists. Some were made to wear black masks to draw their evilness inward to create even more suffering.
“Eternity is endless”, Beelzebub sneered devilishly, over and over, reminding his slaves how they’ll dwell in this misery forever.
This dude is rocking the Dark Side—one of those bad Bubs who knows no limits to his unkindness.
Getting Into Heaven
Back up in Heaven, St. Pete, God’s personal assistant, keeps everyone supplied with tea and cake. But his main job is guarding the Pearly Gates, which are conveniently placed as the front door into Heaven.
The Pearly Gates are breathtaking—glistening, beaming radiant white and gold light everywhere. They appear to have been polished repeatedly to a perfect, gleaming shine. I wonder who polishes them? Like, do they polish them every day? Someone must really enjoy polishing things.
When you die, you go immediately to this waiting area near the Gates, kind of like when you go to the doctor’s, only nicer. Angels greet you and offer you a special tea and a sweet cake, while sitting on a large, soft, white chair where you can snuggle in and enjoy your treat. There is ethereal harp music playing. Everyone is happy and smiling. When it is your turn, the angels come and gently brush their wings on your shoulders to escort you to where St. Pete is waiting.
He welcomes you from behind a large, white crystal podium, which holds an enormous Book, elaborately decorated and edged in gold inlay. The Book contains everyone’s name and notes about whether a person has been naughty or nice, sort of like Santa’s list. The Book is so heavy that it takes four angels to open the cover and turn to the page containing your name.
With great care, St. Pete mindfully reads your name and the notes about you (he checks it twice). When he’s finished, he removes his glasses and the angels gently close The Book. He then tells you what he knows about you. If you were good most of the time or all of the time, he signals for the Pearly Gates to open.
When the gates open, your angels guide you gently, gracefully through the Gates and into a small white room where they dress you in a short white dress with a rope for a belt.
Then you are escorted into the most beautiful, peaceful place you have ever seen. This is the heavenly place of rainbows and waterfalls, butterflies and bluebirds, and trees of all sizes and flowers of all colors. This is where God hangs out. You are guided up to his throne, where God lifts you to his lap and hugs you. “Welcome home,” he says, his voice soft and strong at the same time.
Uh Oh
On the other hand, if St. Pete reads up on you in the Book and discovers you haven’t been very nice, he must reject your application to Heaven. Oh horrors! When this happens, the angel guides whisk you off to an elevator with only a down button.
You are being sent to be with Beelzebub. As the door quickly closes, the harps stop playing; everything becomes muted, except for the angels, who cry out in a solemn, darkly toned dirge.
Whoosh! The elevator is dark and cold and smells like someone puked. When the doors open, you see this tall, ugly man with horns sitting at a large black stone desk with a book open in front of him.
You can feel the evil surrounding you as you step into Hell. He’s not surprised that you’re there, because he’s been watching you and secretly egging you on for many years. He snorts with a satisfying laugh as you are pushed forward by the slaves, who rattle their ball and chains behind you.
The Devil stands and sneers at you, wringing his filthy little hands together, mumbling under his stinky breath words of loathing and hate. He is eager to show you the tortures of your new home.
But first, the slaves shove you into a small, stinky black room and toss a black suit at you and demand that you put it on. The suit is itchy and too small, and the slaves laugh at you as you are scratching the itchiness while trying to wiggle your way in, like putting a ten-pound sausage in a five-pound casing. Repugnant, to say the least.
When you finally emerge dressed in your itchy black suit, you are pushed and prodded. Your senses are on fire with the hot lava walls and the floor that burns your feet. Beelzebub tugs at your ear snarling. “Eternity is a very long time,” he jeers at you through fiery spit.
Oh, you better watch out, Beelzebub is watching and waiting. You get to choose. Which will it be, naughty or nice?