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. . . that God may be all in all.

---1 Corinthians 15:28

In truth, you are absolutely alone:

no fellowship of any kind obtains

here.  Even we---who have been summoned to

receive you on the threshhold and explain

a little bit of what you should expect---

are figments of imagination:  yours.

This is not a place that can be described

in three dimensions, or by latitude

and longitude, or even---like a star---

by declination or right ascencion.

Dante's description, while poetic, is

not accurate.  This is no conical

pit built on successive levels of descent.

And the King of Glory has disclosed

unto Apostle John is like a poem---

a metaphor and simile of sorts;

not a roadmap or traveler's memoir.

Apostle Paul's statement, "that God may be

"all in all" well defines both Heaven and

Hell:  for neither one is a local place,

a site defined by measured time and space.

Heaven is exultation given to

the souls of Faithful, all the Orthodox

who have reposed in faith, and with them some

others as well, and all the patriarchs;

and those who lived and died in spiritual

and pristine innocence.  And that excludes

you as it has excluded us.  Notice,

already, that the essence of your self---

that which must constitute you for a while

until you have been rejoined to your flesh---

has started to squirm with first twinge of

discomfort.  This will be intensified

little by little as you become more

sensitized to it; and, thus, will begin

the triple horror to which you, and all

of us, have been consigned:  the horror of

the present torment; and the horror of

the infinite excruciation toward

which it precedes, step by tormented step.

The final horror---yes, this is the worst---

is that your suffering in this first stage,

more horrible than even you or we

could have inflicted, will be only just

a foretaste of the infinite degree

of torture, of incessant agony,

will mutiply to an infinity---

transcendent exponentiality---

when you possess your body once again;

and when your body is possessed by pain,

in such plethora that the number of

atoms of hydrogen (of which the vast

cosmos, with all its contents, is composed)

is equal to only a fraction of

a fraction of the number and degree

of pains that you, yourself, will inflict on

yourself.  You will be your own judge and yours

own executioner.  Within you is

a rage that drove you to harm others, and

it is ferocious, fierce and frenzied; and

it will react, rather than respond, to

God's presence as the diametrical

opposite of the joy the Faithful feel.

Their bliss, you might say, is analogous

to your anguish.  You ought to see your face,

as we look on it now---the shock that was

just passed through your flesh to effect your death

was not, we understand, as horrible

as this knowledge we have revealed to you.

Perhaps what will be the most hideous

experience will be the sound of your

own screams, your pleas for mercy---all unheard;

your sad request---denied of course---for just

one water drop to cool your burning tongue;

one moment's pause just to inhale a breath

that is not one more gasp of misery.

All this occurs because of who and what

you are, and who and what you were in life;

and how the hatred that you bear toward God

(against Whose reign your heinous sins rebelled;

and, worse, against Whose Innocents you raised

your hand to mutilate and murder them)

And all of it, ironically, will come

from you upon you:  God, your righteous Judge,

will be content to let you judge yourself.

From your assizes will be no appeal,

no comfort, no amelioration..

Now, Theodore, you understand a bit;

more you will figure out as you endure,

beyond a thousand breaking points if you can think

among---around---between---the awful things

you will do to yourself repeatedly

because you cannot bear God's presence and

must turn that hatred inward on yourself.

Oh, where are my manners?  Yes, Theodore,

We should have, at least, introduced ourselves.

We are very much like you---all your peers,

if I may be so bold to say.  This is

Brokenjaw Max, know more as Robespierre;

next, Housepainter Adolf; and Uncle Joe---

the comrade everybody loves the most.

And me?---well you can call me Saucy Jack.

I must apologize---the fifth of us,

invited, Judas (yes, Iscariot)

declined to meet with you even as a

figment of your imagination.  He

has never ceased to play the righteous snob.

Starward