“You’re kidding? Like rabbits?” the no longer aging senator was incredulous behind the thick lenses which gave him a perennially surprised look.

“Like rabbits,” the guide answered. “Remember, each person’s vision of the great hereafter is his own. Whenever we can, we make heaven happen just the way you hoped it would.”

“When will I get in?” he asked. Now he was puzzled. He had tried his very best to live the straight and narrow life that was in such favor by his family, friends and compatriots, and now he was being detained at the gates.

“Well, Senator, it’s not a sure thing that you’re going to get in. Your file’s been flagged. There are still a few unresolved matters in committee.”

“Like what?” He was more than just curious.

His guide turned away to greet some newcomers. “Oh, good, here they come now.”

Jesse turned and looked up the path. There was a radiant glow around several men in white robes surrounding a central figure who seemed to be in animated conversation. One man carried what look like a large bound book. He had glasses of all things, and had a pencil tucked behind one ear.

“Please have a seat, Senator, make yourself comfortable. Can we get you anything?” This first, and taller of these officials pointed to a bench under a chinaberry tree.

“Senator, let me be frank. You’ve led a strict and high moral life the best you were able, given the conditions of your upbringing, the neighborhood you lived in, and what you did for a living. Politicians always go through transition interviews, and while this interview is strictly routine, there are a couple of troubling things we want to go over with you.” 

“You have, by your self-righteous actions, done much evil, and created much suffering for the world and many of God’s children, and we want to allow you some time for reflection, some time to think about what happens when good men suppose they know what’s in God’s mind.”

“What do you mean?” This time there was a slight tremble in Jesse’s voice. “I tried to do right the way I was taught.”

“Yes, you did, and that is to your credit,” continued the scribe, “but like so many others, you fell under the spell of men who used God’s name to rally support for their bigotry by inflicting harm on others of God’s design. Many men use His name to influence the mean spirited and ignorant hearts of stupid people, people who are too lazy to celebrate His work in word and deed.”

“Instead of using your influence and power to ease suffering and promote well-being, you chose to  take the world down the path of nuclear destruction, and look what happened.”

“And, Senator, we want you to know that homosexuals are part of God’s plan. It is not for you to understand why. It may be just one of His whims.”

“Whims? Whims? – God has WHIMS?” exclaimed Jesse.

“Sure. Remember it was said that God made men in His image? It is an accurate image, right down to the whims,” assured the scribe.

“What? God is queer?” He thought. He was absolutely speechless but managed to croak out, “Gay?”

“Oh, no,” the scribe assured Jesse, “He’s neither. His love is strictly spiritual. If God didn’t have whims to pass on, humans couldn’t know about love, art, serendipity, the things that elevate humankind to spirituality.”

“Anything else? As far as things I’ve done wrong?” his voice really trembled now, his steadiness shaken.

“Senator, God loves all people, because they are all his creations. You have forgotten that black people and Cuban people and Asian people are part of His plan, too, and you have expressed your intolerance in many ways God finds harsh. God loves you, Senator, and He looks forward to the day you join your friends here, however . . . “.

“Do you know what I did? Do you know why I did it?” Senator knew he was on shaky ground. “It was because I thought that’s what He would want, because so many of my supporters told me they were sure they knew God wanted me to do.”

“Well, Senator, they were wrong, they were evil and cold hearted, and wrapped their evil in sanctity and piousness.”

“Does He . . . ,” and Jesse nodded toward the path leading through the gates, “Does He have any more whims? Any more that I might have alienated?”

“No,” the scribe chuckled, “none that you need to worry about. As far as we can tell you’ve never taken a stand against the gnu, spiny hedgehog or duck-billed platypus. And He wants you to know He really liked your Barbara Walters interview, that He thinks in your heart you are a genuinely good man, but you used the misfortune of others to your advantage, and that is not so easily forgiven.”

“What? But my constituents demanded it!” Jesse protested.

“Remember, Senator, when God’s Son, Jesus, was brought up on trumped up charges? Pontius Pilate had the chance to do right, but he gave the people what they wanted instead, as you have done time after time. You have had many opportunities to do right, but you gave the mob what they wanted. Everybody wants to be liked, and popular, and win elections, but sir, sometimes you have to take a stand on doing what’s right for everyone, not just a few.”

“Good men often do unspeakable evil, Senator, by turning their opponents into a devil, who, by the way, doesn’t exist. The devil that men fear at the center of all evil is a dead spot within themselves, and you can dwell on it, let it consume your heart and mind, or overcome it and work for the good of all mankind.”

“Now Senator,” and here the scribe paused, turned to the book and thumbed through a few pages, “Oh, yes, here we are. Senator, see the path to the left over there beside the gates? Take the left path, and go through ‘receiving’. We’ll see you in a few days to continue this discussion.”

“Earth days or Bible days?” The senator already knew the answer.

‘Bible days, of course, about 20 million earth years apiece. Time passes quickly enough, Senator, plenty of time for you to think about the good you might have done.”

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