“No one comes to the Father except through me…” John 14:6
The sound of the crash filled his ears.
His crumpled body lay bleeding and broken amidst a shattered wreckage of broken glass and twisted steel.
A horrific thought struck him: (I’m dead!)
A calming feeling of enchantment washed over. He was lighter than air. (If I was dead, I wouldn’t be able to think, “I’m dead.”)
The scene receded beneath him until the ruined car was just a smudge on the road way below. It dissolved into a veil of pure white as he passed the clouds.
He rose onto a sunbathed plateau, where shafts of golden light were splayed along the fluffy ground.
Janush was in shock. (I can’t believe it.)
He floated towards a scene over yonder where a small queue lined up before a heavenly gate of grandiouse proportions, and landed at the back of the line behind an old lady. The choicest of harp-plucked melodies accompanied the sweet strumming of a lute from the front.
She nodded in acknowledgment of his arrival. “Dead, dear?”
He patted himself on the chest, but it wasn’t there. He looked at himself in shock.
“Next!”
The bearded man had long hair and flowing robes, and stood behind an altar before the gates. Crescents of fertile paradise bloomed lushly beyond.
A recently departed soul approached the altar and the line shuffled forward. “Are you who I think you are?” asked the soul.
“It is as you say,” said the robed man.
The old lady’s glare was on Janush. “Have you got a ticket?”
He frowned. “What ticket?”
“I’ve got a ticket.” She produced a shiny golden ticket with a large black cross on it.
At the front of the queue, the recently departed soul was bartering with the long-haired man. “…admit that I was always the first to pour scorn on religion, but how was I expected to know? What rationally minded person could reasonably expect me to have concluded otherwise? But now that I see it with my very own eyes, I’m not too proud to admit…”
“Well,” asked the lady. “You can’t get in without a ticket.”
Janush ignored her with a shake of his head.
“Next.”
The line shuffled forward, and the next departed soul spoke stammeringly to the robed man: “I’ve always believed in you, sir, even though you’re not my chosen one.”
The robed man nodded. “I understand. Your chosen one is waiting for you. Your family, too. Those who have died, from the earliest generations.”
“Is this the only way in?” asked the soul.
The robed man nodded. “Every soul comes through here,” he said. “You’re not lost.”
Back in the line, the lady asked Janush, “Well, what will you do, dear?”
Janush looked peeved. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m a rabbi. I’ve served God my whole life. I don’t need one.”
At the gates, the soul was on his knees, swearing fealty to the robed man. He crossed himself. The gates rolled open.
“Next.”
The elderly woman floated along the clouds to the altar and presented the robed man with her golden ticket. He accepted the ticket with a nod and the gates rolled open. She thanked him profusely and floated through the gate with tears of joy pouring forth from her eyes.
Janush stood erect and cleared his throat.
The robed man turned to him. “Next.”
Janush anxiously approached.
“Peace be with you,” said the man. “Do you have a ticket?”
Janush raised an eyebrow. “Who are you?”
“You tell me.”
“How would I know?”
The bearded man smiled. “Say my name,” he said pleasantly.
“Why should I?” asked Janush. “I’ve spent my whole life serving your Father. I’ve fed the hungry, clothed the needy, and sheltered the homeless. I’ve taught the virtues, engendered peace, and brought sinners to repentance. Why should I have to acknowledge you here, now? What difference would that make?”
“You need to be wholehearted to enter paradise,” said the man. “If there is any darkness within you, I won’t let you in.”
“Why not?”
“You’ll crack on the way through if you’re divided against yourself.”
Janush sighed exasperatedly. “I’ll get reincarnated, then.”
The robed man looked at him speculatively. “You can if you want to, but you’ll have to wait here, outside the gates, until the next cycle. A little acknowledgment from you is all I need.”
Janush’s face reddened. “What have you ever done for me?”
“I died for y—”
“Don’t answer that.”
Janush paced angrily.
“Make a decision. You’re holding up the line.”
“Okay. You’re the sun of god,” said Janush with a cheeky roll of the eyes.”
The robed man shook his head. That wasn’t going to get it done.
Seeing he had no other options, Janush gave in. “Fine,” he said, and he leaned over and whispered in the man’s ear.
The man recognised the truth in what he said. He reached over and touch Janush delicately on the forehead. “You’re forgiven. Welcome home.”
A network of chain reactions spectalularly exploded across his mind in a domino effect of associations that had previously lain dormant. A hidden code of wisdom buried beneath the surface of his understanding was unlocked and brought to life. He was enlightened.
The gates rolled open, and he was drawn inexorably in by the glory of the splendor beyond.
The robed man produced a notebook from his pocket and made an entry. “Next!”
