Pertaining to the Craft Tarot Death Contact Home

A Pagan dies and, to his great surprise, finds himself standing before a set of pearly gates.   St. Peter asks him, "May I help you?"

The Pagan asks, "Where am I?"

Peter says, "You're at the gates of heaven."

"But I don't believe in heaven," says the Pagan.

Peter frowns at him.   "You're one of those Pagans, aren't you?"

"Yes.   I believe I'm in the wrong place; I'm supposed to go to Summerland."

Peter says, "Sorry.   We took over Summerland, and it's temporarily closed for remodeling."

"What should I do now?"

Peter says, "Well, since we don't allow Pagans in heaven, you have to go to hell.   Sorry.   Just follow that path that leads downward and to the left."

The Pagan walks down to hell, where the gates are standing open.   He walks in and finds beautiful meadows, happy animals, and clear streams of water.

He walks on in and begins exploring, and after a few minutes a courtly gentleman walks up to him and bows politely.   "Hello, I'm Satan.   You must be the guy that St. Peter phoned me about.   Are you a Pagan?"

"Yes, I am.   What's going to happen now?"

Satan says, "Well, the fishing's pretty good, if you enjoy that sort of thing.   There's a little refreshment stand down the road.   And I believe the Pagan meeting grounds are right over the next hill."

Suddenly, a hole opens up in the sky above, and a yawning chasm opens directly underneath it.   The stench of sulphur fills the air.   Hundreds of screaming, tortured souls drop down into the flaming pit, which immediately closes up with a thud.

The Pagan, hardly believing what he just saw, asks Satan, "And what was THAT ???"

Satan rolls his eyes.   "Oh, just ignore them.   They're Christians; they wouldn't have it any other way."

"I mean, guys, compare [the god of the Bible] with the worst monsters you can think of   —   Adolf Hitler, Joe Stalin, that sort of guy.   None of them ever inflicted more than finite pain on their victims.   Even de Sade, in his sado-maso fantasy novels, never devised an unlimited torture.   The idea that the Mind of Creation (if such exists) wants to torture some of its critters for endless infinities of infinities seems too absurd to take seriously.   Such a deranged mind could not create a mud hut, much less the exquisitely mathematical universe around us."

      — Robert Anton Wilson