When it’s a Slow Day in Heaven, Catholic Fundamentalists wonder if the process of judging souls and sending them to their final destination takes a different turn.
“Listen, not too many died today. The Court’s docket has some empty space. Want to let some of ’em argue with The Judge?”, St. Michael may say, and, in the blinking of an eye it is done.
A sad, burned out soul arrives, and is startled to find itself inside its old body so that it can remember, think, and speak. The automatic Soul-o-Meter is shut off. “It’s up to you, buddy.”, an angel whispers. “You’ve got to make your own case for getting into Heaven. If you blow this one, you really blow it.”
Like thunder, a voice booms through Heaven. Lots of souls instantaneously appear to watch. “Do you have anything to say for yourself before I pass judgment?”
“Well, I had a lot of bad breaks. . .” he begins.
“Any breaks as bad as this?”, the Judge asks, showing His hands.
“No, your honor, but I had a pretty hard time.”
“Crowned with thorns, were you?” the Judge queries, as a celestial video of His agonizingly bleeding head is shown to the soul standing before the bar.
“Nothing like that happened to me. But, I was teased a lot in high school for being different.”
“Were you flogged by Roman soldiers because you told the truth?”, comes from the bench, with a video that’s pure pain projected onto a cloud suddenly turned into a high-pixel flat-screen TV that’s indistinguishable from reality.
The soul recoils in horror, feeling the pain projected from the huge screen.
“I never felt anything as painful as that!”, the soul says, beginning to cry with the tortured pain going through his own body, dimly feeling the pain he’d inflicted on others on earth.
Suddenly, the soul’s body disappears, and he’s just standing there, his soul utterly naked. He looks up, shriveled with fear.
“You soul is not so hardened that you can’t feel another’s pain.”, the Judge announces. “So, you’re in. But, if it hadn’t been a slow day in Heaven, you wouldn’t be. Technically, you’re supposed to understand this and apologize for the bad things you did before your soul leaves your body.”
The soul passes through the Pearly Gates, transfixed with joy, not believing his luck. The same angel whispered, “Think you were lucky? He’s the one who sets the docket.”
“But, the docket is determined by how many people will die that day.”
“He sets that, too. In this case, just for you.”
