HELL IS OTHER PEOPLE?
By Jay de Leon

Today I have decided that I do not want to go to hell.   Some might react and say, what a trite statement.  Who wants to go to hell?  Everybody knows that it is not a fun place to go to. 

But have you ever really considered why hell is such a horrible place, why it is a fitting ending place for the damned, sinners, those that die in the state of mortal sin?  Why do we wish hell on murderers, rapists, kidnappers, child molesters, serial killers and the like?

For those of us that have gone to catechism class, or have read tomes like Dante’s Inferno, we have some visual representations of hell that have probably stuck in our minds since our grade school days.  We have visions of raging infernos, full of fire and bubbling cauldron of oil, rivulets of lava searing flesh over and over again, with the cries of the damned echoing in our ears.

That should scare the hell out of anybody.  Then we have that cliché that hell is other people.  Part of that vision of hell above is Satan prancing around with his pitchfork, presumably red-hot, and gleefully stabbing writhing bodies being barbecued over burning coals and raging fire. 

You will probably see some really scary characters around you screaming their heads off and occasionally thrashing and crashing into you, like Charles Manson, Adolf Hitler and John Wayne Gacy.  How would you like to spend eternity sharing hell with those demonic characters?

But I think what makes hell unbearable is this agonizing feeling of loss, of separation.  I think the most human suffering I have felt was not physical but emotional or psychological.  I felt this unbearable pain and loss during three moments in my life.

The first was during a break-up with a girl friend.  I could not eat, sleep, think, or function normally during this period.  I drank alcohol, but I just felt even worse after waking up from my drunken stupor.  I found myself calling friends and relatives on the phone.  I bawled my eyes out a couple of times.   I tried working out to calm my nerves. 

The second instance was when I lost my dad.  He was in his advanced years, and had been in the hospital for a few weeks now.  That did not soften the blow of his demise.  It hit hard a few weeks afterwards, when I thought I was over it.  I had the same feeling as in the first example.

The third and hardest was when I went through my divorce, and in effect, lost my children for half their remaining childhood.  Technically, I did not lose them, as I had joint custody and could in theory see them half the time.  But that half the time I did not see them, I was devastated and sad and listless.  At one time, I was willing to concede anything—all the wealth I had, my health, years off my life, anything, if only I could have my children back with me the whole time.

I think that is how hell will be.  You will be banned from ever seeing all the people you love or loved.  You will feel that same emptiness, longing, despair and sadness that you felt when you lost them on earth.  The difference is now it is forever, and there will be no relief, not even sleep or a drunken stupor.

Remember the inferno?   If that was part of hell, the raging fire and the physical pain might even help the emotional anguish.  I do not think you will even have that relief.  I think you will just float in the dark and swirling netherworld, twisting and turning,  hearing the shrieks of despair, including yours, echoing forever in eternity.

Now I understand why in catechism class they said that the greatest punishment in hell is not seeing God.  I have not reached that stage or state of enlightenment that I can comprehend that statement. But I can understand not seeing my loved ones.  That is hell enough.