The Road to Hell
On Sunday night, May 3 [1868], the feast of Saint Joseph's patronage, Don Bosco resumed the narration of his dreams:
I have another dream to tell you,
a sort of aftermath of those I told you last Thursday and Friday which
totally exhausted me. Call them dreams or whatever you like. Always, as
you know, on the night of April 17 a frightful toad seemed bent on
devouring me. When it finally vanished, a voice said to me: "Why don't
you tell them?" I turned in that direction and saw a distinguished
person standing by my bed. Feeling guilty about my silence, I
asked: "What should I tell my boys?"
"What you have seen and heard in
your last dreams and what you have wanted to know and shall have
revealed to you tomorrow night!" He then vanished.
I spent the whole next day
worrying about the miserable night in store for me, and when evening
came, loath to go to bed, I sat at my desk browsing through books until
midnight. The mere thought of having more nightmares thoroughly scare
me. However, with great effort, I finally went to bed.
"Get up and follow me!" he said.
"For Heaven's sake," I protested,
"leave me alone. I am exhausted! I've been tormented by a toothache for
several days now and need rest. Besides, nightmares have completely
worn me out." I said this because this man's apparition always means
trouble, fatigue, and terror for me.
"Get up," he repeated. "You have no time to lose."
I complied and followed him. "Where are you taking me?" I asked.
"Never mind. You'll see." He led
me to a vast, boundless plain, veritably a lifeless desert, with not a
soul in sight or a tree or brook. Yellowed, dried-up vegetation added to
the desolation I had no idea where I was or what was I to do. For a
moment I even lost sight of my guide and feared that I was lost, utterly
alone. Father Rua, Father Francesia, nowhere to be seen. When I finally
saw my friend coming toward me, I sighed in relief.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"Come with me and you will find out!"
"All right. I'll go with you."
He led the way and I followed in
silence, but after a long, dismal trudge, I began worrying whether I
would ever be able to cross that vast expanse, what with my toothache
and swollen legs. Suddenly I saw a road ahead.
"Where to now?" I asked my guide.
"This way," he replied.
We took the road. It was
beautiful, wide, and neatly paved. "The way of sinners is made plain
with stones, and in their end is hell, and darkness, and pains. "
(Ecclesiasticus 21: 11, stones: broad and easy.) Both sides were lined
with magnificent verdant hedges dotted with gorgeous flowers. Roses,
especially, peeped everywhere through the leaves. At first glance, the
road was level and comfortable, and so I ventured upon it without the
least suspicion, but soon I noticed that it insensibly kept sloping
downward. Though it did not look steep at all, I found myself moving so
swiftly that I felt I was effortlessly gliding through the air. Really, I
was gliding and hardly using my feet. Then the thought struck me that
the return trip would be very long and arduous.
"How shall we get back to the Oratory?" I asked worriedly.
"Do not worry," he answered. "The Almighty wants you to go. He who leads you on will also know how to lead you back."
The road is sloping downward. As
we were continuing on our way, flanked by banks of roses and other
flowers, I became aware that the Oratory boys and very many others whom I
did not know were following me. Somehow I found myself in their midst.
As I was looking at them, I noticed now one, now another fall to the
ground and instantly be dragged by an unseen force toward a frightful
drop, distantly visible, which sloped into a furnace. "What makes these
boys fall?" I asked my companion. "The proud have hidden a net for me.
And they have stretched out cords for a snare: they have laid for me a
stumbling-block by the wayside." (Psalms 139: 6)
"Take a closer look," he replied.
I did. Traps were everywhere,
some close to the ground, others at eye level, but all well concealed.
Unaware of their danger, many boys got caught, and they tripped, they
would sprawl to the ground, legs in the air. Then, when they managed to
get back on their feet, they would run headlong down the road toward the
abyss. Some got trapped by the head, others by the neck, hand, arms,
legs, or sides, and were pulled down instantly. The ground traps, fine
as spiders' webs and hardly visible, seemed very flimsy and harmless;
yet, to my surprise, every boy they snared fell to the ground.
Noticing my astonishment, the guide remarked, "Do you know what this is?"
"Just some filmy fiber," I answered.
"A mere nothing," he said, "just plain human respect.",
Seeing that many boys were being caught in those straps. I asked, "Why do so many get caught? Who pulls them down?"
"Go nearer and you will see!" he told me.
I followed his advice but saw nothing peculiar.
"Look closer," he insisted.
I picked up one of the traps and
tugged. I immediately felt some resistance. I pulled harder, only to
feel that, instead of drawing the thread closer, I was being pulled down
myself. I did not resist and soon found myself at the mouth of a
frightful cave. I halted, unwilling to venture into that deep cavern,
and again started pulling the thread toward me. It gave a little, but
only through great effort on my part. I kept tugging, and after a long
while a huge, hideous monster emerged, clutching a rope to which all
those traps were tied together. He was the one who instantly dragged
down anyone who got caught in them. It won't do to match my strength
with his, I said to myself. I'll certainly lose. I'd better fight him
with the Sign of the Cross and with short invocations.
Then I went back to my guide. "Now you know who he is," he said to me.
"I surely do! It is the devil himself!"
Carefully examining many of the
traps, I saw that each bore an inscription: Pride, Disobedience, Envy,
Sixth Commandment, Theft, Gluttony, Sloth, Anger and so on. Stepping
back a bit to see which ones trapped the greater number of boys, I
discovered that the most dangerous were those of impurity, disobedience,
and pride. In fact, these three were linked to together. Many other
traps also did great harm, but not as much as the first two. Still
watching, I noticed many boys running faster than others. "Why such
haste?" I asked.
"Because they are dragged by the snare of human respect."
Looking even more closely, I
spotted knives among the traps. A providential hand had put them there
for cutting oneself free. The bigger ones, symbolizing meditation, were
for use against the trap of pride; others, not quite as big, symbolized
spiritual reading well made. There were also two swords representing
devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, especially through frequent Holy
Communion, and to the Blessed Virgin. There was also a hammer
symbolizing confession, and other knives signifying devotion to Saint
Joseph, to Saint Aloysius, and to other Saints. By these means quite a
few boys were able to free themselves or evade capture.
Indeed I saw some lads walking
safely through all those traps, either by good timing before the trap
sprung on them or by making it slip off them if they got caught.
When my guide was satisfied that I
had observed everything, he made me continue along that rose-hedged
road, but the farther we went the scarcer the roses became. Long thorns
began to show up, and soon the roses were no more. The hedges became
sun-scorched, leafless, and thorn-studded. Withered branches torn from
the bushes lay criss-crossed along the roadbed, littering it with thorns
and making it impassable. We had come now to a gulch whose steep sides
hid what lay beyond. The road, still sloping downward, was becoming ever
more horrid, rutted, guttered, and bristling with rocks and boulders. I
lost track of all my boys, most of whom had left this treacherous road
for other paths.
I kept going, but the farther I
advanced, the more arduous and steep became the descent, so that I
tumbled and fell several times, lying prostrate until I could catch my
breath. Now and then my guide supported me or helped me to rise. At
every step my joints seemed to give way, and I thought my shinbones
would snap. Panting, I said to my guide, "My good fellow, my legs won't
carry me another step. I just can't go any farther." He did not answer
but continued walking. Taking heart, I followed until, seeing me soaked
in perspiration and thoroughly exhausted, he led me to a little clearing
alongside the road. I sat down, took a deep breath, and felt a little
better. From my resting place, the road I had already traveled looked
very steep, jagged, and strewn with loose stones, but what lay ahead
seemed so much worse that I closed my eyes in horror.
"Let's go back," I pleaded. "If
we go any farther, how shall we ever get back to the Oratory? I will
never make it up this slope."
"Now that we have come so far, do you want me to leave you here?" my guide sternly asked.
At this threat, I wailed, "How can I survive without your help?"
"Then follow me."
We continued our descent, the
road now becoming so frightfully steep that it was almost impossible to
stand erect. And then, at the bottom of this precipice, at the entrance
of a dark valley, an enormous building loomed into sight, its towering
portal, tightly locked, facing our road. When I finally got to the
bottom, I became smothered by a suffocating heat, while a greasy,
green-tinted smoke lit by flashes of scarlet flames rose from behind
those enormous walls which loomed higher than mountains.
"Where are we? What is this?" I asked my guide.
"Read the inscription on that portal and you will know."
I looked up and read these words:
"The place of no reprieve." I realized that we were at the gates of
Hell. The guide led me all around this horrible place. At regular
distance bronze portals like the first overlooked precipitous descents;
on each was an inscription, such as: "Depart from me, ye cursed, into
everlasting fire, which was prepared for the devil and his angels."
(Matthew 25: 41) "Every tree that yielded not good fruit, shall be cut
down, and shall be cast into the the fire." (Matthew 7: 19)
I tried to copy them into my
notebook, but my guide restrained me: "There is no need. You have them
all in Holy Scripture. You even have some of them inscribed in your
porticoes."
At such a sight I wanted to turn
back and return to the Oratory. As a matter of fact, I did start back,
but my guide ignored my attempt. After trudging through a steep,
never-ending ravine, we again came to the foot of the precipice facing
the first portal. Suddenly the guide turned to me. Upset and startled,
he motioned to me to step aside. "Look!" he said.
I looked up in terror and saw in
the distance someone racing down the path at an uncontrollable speed. I
kept my eyes on him, trying to identify him, and as he got closer, I
recognized him as one of my boys. His disheveled hair was partly
standing upright on his head and partly tossed back by the wind. His
arms were outstretched as though he were thrashing the water in an
attempt to stay afloat. He wanted to stop, but could not. Tripping on
the protruding stones, he kept falling even faster. "Let's help him,
let's stop him," I shouted, holding out my hands in a vain effort to
restrain him.
"Leave him alone," the guide replied.
"Why?"
"Don't you know how terrible God's vengeance is? Do you think you can restrain one who is fleeing from His just wrath?"
Meanwhile the youth had turned
his fiery gaze backward in an attempt to see if God's wrath were still
pursuing him. The next moment he fell tumbling to the bottom of the
ravine and crashed against the bronze portal as though he could find no
better refuge in his flight.
"Why was he looking backward in terror?" I asked.
"Because God's wrath will pierce Hell's gates to reach and torment him even in the midst of fire!"
As the boy crashed into the
portal, it sprang open with a roar, and instantly a thousand inner
portals opened with a deafening clamor as if struck by a body that had
been propelled by an invisible, most violent, irresistible gale. As
these bronze doors -- one behind the other, though at a considerable
distance from each other -- remained momentarily open, I saw far into
the distance something like furnace jaws sprouting fiery balls the
moment the youth hurtled into it. As swiftly as they had opened, the
portals then clanged shut again. For a third time I tried to jot down
the name of that unfortunate lad, but the guide again restrained me.
"Wait," he ordered.
"Watch!"
Three other boys of ours,
screaming in terror and with arms outstretched, were rolling down one
behind the other like massive rocks, I recognized them as they too
crashed against the portal. In that split second, it sprang open and so
did the other thousand. The three lads were sucked into that endless
corridor amid a long-drawn, fading, infernal echo, and then the portals
clanged shut again. At intervals, many other lads came tumbling down
after them. I saw one unlucky boy being pushed down the slope by an evil
companion. Others fell singly or with others, arm in arm or side by
side. Each of them bore the name of his sin on his forehead. I kept
calling to them as they hurtled down, but they did not hear me. Again
the portals would open thunderously and slam shut with a rumble. Then,
dead silence!
"Bad companions, bad books, and bad habits," my guide exclaimed, "are mainly responsible for so many eternally lost."
The traps I had seen earlier were
indeed dragging the boys to ruin. Seeing so many going to perdition, I
cried out disconsolately, "If so many of our boys end up this way, we
are working in vain. How can we prevent such tragedies?"
"This is their present state," my guide replied, "and that is where they would go if they were to die now."
"Then let me jot down their names so that I may warn them and put them back on the path to Heaven."
"Do you really believe that some
of them would reform if you were to warn them? Then and there your
warning might impress them, but soon they will forget it, saying, 'It
was just a dream,' and they will do worse than before. Others, realizing
they have been unmasked, receive the sacraments, but this will be
neither spontaneous nor meritorious; others will go to confession
because of a momentary fear of Hell but will still be attached to sin."
"Then is there no way to save these unfortunate lads? Please, tell me what I can do for them."
"They have superiors; let them
obey them. They have rules; let them observe them. They have the
sacraments; let them receive them."
Just then a new group of boys came hurtling down and the portals momentarily opened. "Let's go in," the guide said to me.
I pulled back in horror. I could not wait to rush back to the Oratory to warn the boys lest others might be lost as well.
"Come," my guide insisted.
"You'll learn much. But first tell me: Do you wish to go alone or with
me?" He asked this to make me realize that I was not brave enough and
therefore needed his friendly assistance.
"Alone inside that horrible
place?" I replied. "How will I ever be able to find my way out without
your help?" Then a thought came to my mind and aroused my courage.
Before one is condemned to Hell, I said to myself, he must be judged.
And I haven't been judged yet!
"Let's go," I exclaimed
resolutely. We entered that narrow, horrible corridor and whizzed
through it with lightning speed. Threatening inscriptions shone eerily
over all the inner gateways. The last one opened into a vast, grim
courtyard with a large, unbelievably forbidding entrance at the far end.
Above it stood this inscription:
"These shall go into everlasting
punishment." (Matthew 25: 46) The walls all about were similarly
inscribed. I asked my guide if I could read them, and he consented.
These were the inscriptions:
"He will give fire, and worms into their flesh, and they may burn and may feel forever." (Judith 16: 21)
"The pool of fire where both the
beast and the false prophet shall be tormented day and night forever and
ever." (Apocalypse 20: 9-10)
"And the smoke of their torments shall ascend up forever and ever." (Apocalypse 14: 11)
"A land of misery and darkness, where the shadow of death, and no order, but everlasting horror dwells." (Job 10: 22)
"There is no peace to the wicked." (Isaiah 47: 22)
"There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth." (Matthew 8:12)
While I moved from one inscription to another, my guide, who had stood in the center of the courtyard, came up to me.
"From here on," he said, "no one
may have a helpful companion, a comforting friend, a loving heart, a
compassionate glance, or a benevolent word. All this is gone forever. Do
you just want to see or would you rather experience these things
yourself?"
"I only want to see!" I answered.
"Then come with me," my friend
added, and, taking me in tow, he stepped through that gate into a
corridor at whose far end stood an observation platform, closed by a
huge, single crystal pane reaching from the pavement to the ceiling. As
soon as I crossed its threshold, I felt an indescribable terror and
dared not take another step. Ahead of me I could see something like an
immense cave which gradually disappeared into recesses sunk far into the
bowels of the mountains. They were all ablaze, but theirs was not an
earthly fire with leaping tongues of flames. The entire cave --walls,
ceiling, floor, iron, stones, wood, and coal -- everything was a glowing
white at temperatures of thousands of degrees. Yet the fire did not
incinerate, did not consume. I simply can't find words to describe the
cavern's horror. "The nourishment thereof is fire and much wood: the
breath of the Lord as a torrent of brimstone kindling it." (Isaiah 30:
33)
I was staring in bewilderment
about me when a lad dashed out of a gate. Seemingly unaware of anything
else, he emitted a most shrilling scream, like one who is about to fall
into a cauldron of liquid bronze, and plummeted into the center of the
cave. Instantly he too became incandescent and perfectly motionless,
while the echo of his dying wail lingered for an instant more.
Terribly frightened, I stared
briefly at him for a while. He seemed to be one of my Oratory boys.
"Isn't he so and so?" I asked my guide.
"Yes," was the answer.
"Why is he so still, so incandescent?"
"You chose to see," he replied.
"Be satisfied with that. Just keep looking. Besides, "Everyone shall be
salted with fire." (Mark 9: 48)
As I looked again, another boy
came hurtling down into the cave at breakneck speed. He too was from the
Oratory. As he fell, so he remained. He too emitted one single
heart-rending shriek that blended with the last echo of the scream that
came from the youth who had preceded him. Other boys kept hurtling in
the same way in increasing numbers, all screaming the same way and then
all becoming equally motionless and incandescent. I noticed that the
first seemed frozen to the spot, one hand and one foot raised into the
air; the second boy seemed bent almost double to the floor. Others stood
or hung in various other positions, balancing themselves on one foot or
hand, sitting or lying on their backs or on their sides, standing or
kneeling, hands clutching their hair. Briefly, the scene resembled a
large statuary group of youngsters cast into ever more painful postures.
Other lads hurtled into that same furnace. Some I knew; others were
strangers to me. I then recalled what is written in the Bible to the
effect that as one falls into Hell, so he shall forever remain. ". . .
in what place soever it shall fall, there shall it be." (Ecclesiastes
11:3)
More frightened than ever, I
asked my guide, "When these boys come dashing into this cave, don't they
know where they are going?"
"They surely do. They have been
warned a thousand times, but they still choose to rush into the fire
because they do not detest sin and are loath to forsake it. Furthermore,
they despise and reject God's incessant, merciful invitations to do
penance. Thus provoked, Divine Justice harries them, hounds them, and
goads them on so that they cannot halt until they reach this place."
"Oh, how miserable these
unfortunate boys must feel in knowing they no longer have any hope," I
exclaimed. "If you really want to know their innermost frenzy and fury,
go a little closer," my guide remarked.
I took a few steps forward and
saw that many of those poor wretches were savagely striking at each
other like mad dogs. Others were clawing their own faces and hands,
tearing their own flesh and spitefully throwing it about. Just then the
entire ceiling of the cave became as transparent as crystal and revealed
a patch of Heaven and their radiant companions safe for all eternity.
The poor wretches, fuming and
panting with envy, burned with rage because they had once ridiculed the
just. "The wicked shall see, and be angry, he shall gnash with his
teeth, and pine away. . . " (Psalms 111: 10) "Why do hear no sound?" I
asked my guide,
"Go closer!" he advised.
Pressing my ear to the crystal
window, I heard screams and sobs, blasphemies and imprecations against
the Saints. It was a tumult of voices and cries, shrill and confused.
"When they recall the happy lot
of their good companions," he replied, "they are obliged to admit: "We
fools esteemed their life madness, and their end without honour. Behold,
how they are numbered among the children of God, and their lot is among
the saints. Therefore we have erred from the way of truth, and the
light of justice hath not shined unto us, and the sun of understanding
hath not risen upon us." (Wisdom 5:4-6) "We wearied ourselves in the way
of iniquity and destruction, and have walked through hard ways, but the
way of the Lord we have not known. What hath pride profited us ? or
what advantage hath the boasting of riches brought us ? All those things
are passed away like a shadow." (Wisdom 5: 7-9)
"Here time is no more. Here is only eternity."
While I viewed the condition of
many of my boys in utter terror, a thought suddenly struck me. "How can
these boys be damned?" I asked. "Last night they were still alive at the
Oratory!"
"The boys you see here," he
answered, "are all dead to God's grace. Were they to die now or persist
in their evil ways, they would be damned. But we are wasting time. Let
us go on."
He led me away and we went down
through a corridor into a lower cavern, at whose entrance I read: "Their
worm shall not die, and their fire shall not be quenched." (Isaiah 66:
24) "He will give fire, and worms into their flesh, and they may burn
and may feel forever." (Judith 16: 21)
Here one could see how atrocious
was the remorse of those who had been pupils in our schools. What a
torment was their, to remember each unforgiven sin and its just
punishment, the countless, even extraordinary means they had had to mend
their ways, persevere in virtue, and earn paradise, and their lack of
response to the many favors promised and bestowed by the Virgin Mary.
What a torture to think that they could have been saved so easily, yet
now are irredeemably lost, and to remember the many good resolutions made and never kept. Hell is indeed paved with good intentions!
In this lower cavern I again saw
those Oratory boys who had fallen into the fiery furnace. Some are
listening to me right now; others are former pupils or even strangers to
me. I drew closer to them and noticed that they were all covered with
worms and vermin which gnawed at their vitals, hearts, eyes, hands,
legs, and entire bodies so ferociously as to defy description. Helpless
and motionless, they were a prey to every kind of torment. Hoping I
might be able to speak with them or to hear something from them, I drew
even closer but no one spoke or even looked at me. I then asked my guide
why, and he explained that the damned are totally deprived of freedom.
Each must fully endure his own punishment, with absolutely no reprieve
whatever. "And now," he added, "you too must enter that cavern."
"Oh, no!" I objected in terror.
"Before going to Hell, one has to be judged. I have not been judged yet,
and so I will not go to Hell!"
"Listen," he said, "what would you rather do: visit Hell and save your boys, or stay outside and leave them in agony?"
For a moment I was struck
speechless. "Of course I love my boys and wish to save them all," I
replied, "but isn't there some other way out?"
"Yes, there is a way," he went on, "provided you do all you can."
I breathed more easily and
instantly said to myself, I don't mind slaving if I can rescue these
beloved sons of mine from such torments.
"Come inside then," my friend
went on, "and see how our good, almighty God lovingly provides a
thousand means for guiding your boys to penance and saving them from
everlasting death."
Taking my hand, he led me into
the cave. As I stepped in, I found myself suddenly transported into a
magnificent hall whose curtained glass doors concealed more entrances.
Above one of them I read this
inscription: The Sixth Commandment. Pointing to it, my guide exclaimed,
"Transgressions of this commandment caused the eternal ruin of many
boys."
"Didn't they go to confession?"
"They did, but they either
omitted or insufficiently confessed the sins against the beautiful
virtue of purity, saying for instance that they had committed such sins
two or three times when it was four or five. Other boys may have fallen
into that sin but once in their childhood, and, through shame, never
confessed it or did so insufficiently. Others were not truly sorry or
sincere in their resolve to avoid it in the future. There were even some
who, rather than examine their conscience, spent their time trying to
figure out how best to deceive their confessor. Anyone dying in this
frame of mind chooses to be among the damned, and so he is doomed for
all eternity. Only those who die truly repentant shall be eternally
happy. Now do you want to see why our merciful God brought you here?" He
lifted the curtain and I saw a group of Oratory boys -- all known to me
-- who were there because of this sin. Among them were some whose
conduct seems to be good.
"Now you will surely let me take
down their names so that I may warn them individually," I exclaimed.
"Then what do you suggest I tell them?"
"Always preach against immodesty.
A generic warning will suffice. Bear in mind that even if you did
admonish them individually, they would promise, but not always in
earnest. For a firm resolution, one needs God's grace which will not be
denied to your boys if they pray. God manifests His power
especially by being merciful and forgiving. On your part, pray and make
sacrifices. As for the boys, let them listen to your admonitions and
consult their conscience. It will tell them what to do."
We spent the next half hour
discussing the requisites of a good confession. Afterward, my guide
several times exclaimed in a loud voice, "Avertere! Avertere!"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Change life! "
Perplexed, I bowed my head and made as if to withdraw, but he held me back.
"You haven't seen everything yet," he explained.
He turned and lifted another curtain bearing this inscription: "They who would become rich, fall into temptation, and
to the snare of the devil." (1 Timothy 6: 9) (Note: would become rich:
wish to become rich, seek riches, set their heart and affections toward
riches.)
"This does not apply to my boys! I
countered, "because they are as poor as I am. We are not rich and do
not want to be. We give it no thought."
As the curtain was lifted,
however, I saw a group of boys, all known to me. They were in pain, like
those I had seen before. Pointing to them, my guide remarked, "As you
see, the inscription does apply to your boys."
"But how?" I asked.
"Well," he said, "some boys are
so attached to material possessions that their love of God is lessened.
Thus they sin against charity, piety, and meekness. Even the mere desire
of riches can corrupt the heart, especially if such a desire leads to
injustice. Your boys are poor, but remember that greed and idleness are
bad counselors. One of your boys committed substantial thefts in his
native town, and though he could make restitution, he gives it not a
thought. There are others who try to break into the pantry or the
prefect's or economer's office; those who rummage in their companions'
trunks for food, money, or possessions; those who steal stationery and
books...."
After naming these boys and
others as well, he continued, "Some are here for having stolen clothes,
linen, blankets, and coats from the Oratory wardrobe in order to send
them home to their families; others for willful, serious damage; others,
yet, for not having given back what they had borrowed or for having
kept sums of money they were supposed to hand over to the superior. Now
that you know who these boys are," he concluded, "admonish them. Tell
them to curb all vain, harmful desires, to obey God's law and to
safeguard their reputation jealously lest greed lead them to greater
excesses and plunge them into sorrow, death, and damnation."
I couldn't understand why such
dreadful punishments should be meted out for infractions that boys
thought so little of, but my guide shook me out of my thoughts by
saying: "Recall what you were told when you saw those spoiled grapes on
the wine." With these words he lifted another curtain which hid many of
our Oratory boys, all of whom I recognized instantly. The inscription on
the curtain read: The root of all evils.
"Do you know what that means?" he asked me immediately.
"What sin does that refer to?"
"Pride?"
"No!"
"And yet I have always heard that pride is the root of all evil."
"It is, generally speaking, but,
specifically, do you know what led Adam and Eve to commit the first sin
for which they were driven away from their earthly paradise?"
"Disobedience?"
"Exactly! Disobedience is the root of all evil."
"What shall I tell my boys about it?"
"Listen carefully: the boys you
see here are those who prepare such a tragic end for themselves by being
disobedient. So-and-so and so-and-so, who you think went to bed, leave
the dormitory later in the night to roam about the playground, and,
contrary to orders, they stray into dangerous areas and up scaffolds,
endangering even their lives. Others go to church, but, ignoring
recommendations, they misbehave; instead of praying, they daydream or
cause a disturbance. There are also those who make themselves
comfortable so as to doze off during church services, and those who only
make believe they are going to church. Woe to those who neglect prayer!
He who does not pray dooms himself to perdition. Some are here because,
instead of singing hymns or saying the Little Office of the Blessed
Virgin, they read frivolous or -- worse yet -- forbidden books." He then
went on mentioning other serious breaches of discipline.
When he was done, I was deeply moved.
"May I mention all these things to my boys?" I asked, looking at him straight in the eye.
"Yes, you may tell them whatever you remember."
"What advice shall I give them to safeguard them from such a tragedy?"
"Keep telling them that by
obeying God, the Church, their parents, and their superiors, even in
little things, they will be saved."
"Anything else?"
"Warn them against idleness.
Because of idleness David fell into sin. Tell them to keep busy at all
times, because the devil will not then have a chance to tempt them."
I bowed my head and promised.
Faint with dismay, I could only mutter, "Thanks for having been so good
to me. Now, please lead me out of here."
"All right, then, come with
me." Encouragingly he took my hand and held me up because I could hardly
stand on my feet. Leaving that hall, in no time at all we retraced our
steps through that horrible courtyard and the long corridor. But as soon
as we stepped across the last bronze portal, he turned to me and said,
"Now that you have seen what others suffer, you too must experience a
touch of Hell."
"No, no!" I cried in terror.
He insisted, but I kept refusing.
"Do not be afraid," he told me; "just try it. Touch this wall."
I could not muster enough courage
and tried to get away, but he held me back. "Try it," he insisted.
Gripping my arm firmly, he pulled me to the wall. "Only one touch," he
cornmanded, "so that you may say you have both seen and touched the
walls of eternal suffering and that you may understand what the last
wall must be like if the first is so unendurable. Look at this wall!" I
did intently. It seemed incredibly thick. "There are a thousand walls
between this and the real fire of Hell," my guide continued. "A thousand
walls encompass it, each a thousand measures thick and equally distant
from the next one. Each measure is a thousand miles. This wall therefore
is millions and millions of miles from Hell's real fire. It is just a
remote rim of Hell itself."
When he said this, I
instinctively pulled back, but he seized my hand, forced it open, and
pressed it against the first of the thousand walls. The sensation was so
utterly excruciating that I leaped back with a scream and found myself
sitting up in bed. My hand was stinging and I kept rubbing it to ease
the pain. When I got up this morning I noticed that it was swollen.
Having my hand pressed against the wall, though only in a dream, felt so
real that, later, the skin of my palm peeled off.
Bear in mind that I have tried
not to frighten you very much, and so I have not described these things
in all their horror as I saw them and as they impressed me. We know that
Our Lord always portrayed Hell in symbols because, had He described it
as it really is, we would not have understood Him. No mortal can
comprehend these things. The Lord knows them and He reveals them to
whomever He wills.
