Hospital beds were simply not designed for sleeping comfort. Sure, it was great that he could just push a button and the head of the bed would raise him up to a half-sitting posture. Another button would turn the foot of the bed into a knee support, but he didn’t want any of that right now. He just wanted to lie flat and go to sleep, and the bed was hard as a rock. All the tubes and needles made it impossible to turn a bit to shift the pressure of his weight somewhere – anywhere – else.
There was an IV stand next to him with some kind of medication bottle hanging from it. Fluid was slowly dripping into a tube that ran down to a needle in his arm. A thick, white electrical cord that ended in a large, black call button was secured to the bed railing.
“Just push this if you need anything. Someone will come right away” the nurse had told him.
I doubt you could bring me what I really need, thought Paul, then smiled mischievously at the irony of the offer.
The rhythmic beep, beep, beep of the electrocardiography monitor helped him relax. Soon, perhaps, he would finally experience the answer to the question that had occupied him for the vast majority of his nearly 89 years: at the end of life, then what?
From his youngest days he had refused to be satisfied with pat answers. His parents had been members of the Presbyterian church and had regularly attended the Easter service every year. They nevertheless insisted that he go every week to Sunday school where his insistent questions challenged the patience of one volunteer teacher after another. He chuckled as he remembered the shocked face of one teacher when he had asked, “Since Mary wasn’t married to Joseph when she became pregnant, does that mean Jesus was a bastard?”
When he couldn’t get any answer to the problem created by the Trinity, he tried Unitarianism. It was said that if the path to the afterlife had two paths – one to get to heaven, the other to a discussion about heaven, all the Unitarians would choose the path to a discussion. It was a funny joke at the time.
He turned to Zen Buddhism which taught there was no life or death and the goal was enlightenment, the dissolution of the ego and being fully present in the moment. What happens after enlightenment? You still have to do the dishes!
Sounds and images drifted through his mind. The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel … the orchestration and chorus of the sabbath prayer in the movie Fiddler on the Roof … Thich Nhat Hahn’s gentle voice … the ringing of the temple gong … the Shinto shrine in Tokyo … the chanting of the Kanon Sutra … the tapping of the mokugyo in the same rhythm as the ECG monitor.
A Mokugyo is made of wood and tapped with the stick in a regular rhythm during chanting ceremonies.
The room brightened. Paul opened his eyes to discover a tall man wearing a black suit and red tie standing in front of him. His hair was frazzled, he had a pencil laid behind one ear, and had a frustrated look on his face as he flipped through several pages on the clipboard he was carrying.
“Hello,” said Paul, “I didn’t hear you come in.” He glanced toward the door. It was still closed.
The tall man ignored Paul’s greeting as he continued flipping through the pages on his clipboard, his pen making scratching noises as he made a mark or wrote a brief note. Finally he looked directly at Paul.
“Can I help you with something?” whispered Paul.
The tall man smiled faintly. “Yes, actually, you can. According to my notes, you have remained spiritually noncommittal your entire life. I can’t wait any longer for your transition, so it’s time for you to stop window-shopping for eternity and decide who you want to accompany you on your journey. I’ve brought a few representatives to help you decide.”
Paul stared wide-eyed at the tall man in shock. “My god, is this the Unitarian purgatory of endless discussion about heaven?”
The tall man broke into a wide grin at Paul’s question. “Oh no, purgatory is what you are now about to leave.”
A man in a black cassock appeared next to the tall man. He had a gentle face and a guitar slung over his shoulder. A cross on a golden chain was draped over his shoulders. “Paul, your reference to purgatory says it all. Besides, you know how much you forget about yourself when you listen to beautiful choir music. I’m here to take you home.”
Another man in a yellow shirt, maroon skirt and jacket appeared. He placed both hands together and bowed deeply to Paul. “I am Lama Tenzin and, as you well know, there is no home – only the return to your original nature.”
The others followed in rapid succession. Rabbi Goldstein spoke passionately about the life of study and questioning. Master Wei said only that the Tao is not spoken, only followed. Imam Yusuf spoke of peace, obedience and the beauty of divine submission. Pandit Ravi outlined the soul’s cycle and karma. The room seemed to grow more spacious as each new person materialized in the room – not only to accommodate them physically, but to make room for each new perspective as well.
It was a cacophony of sound at first, then slowly transformed into listening instead of arguing. No one gave in to someone else’s viewpoint. Yet each began to hear echoes of their own beliefs in the other’s words. Is was not about the structures, the gods, the rituals – but rather about shared hopes, shared concerns. Grace sounded like mercy. Karma like justice. The Tao like surrender. Enlightenment like heaven. Service like salvation. Discipline like devotion. Order like peace.
No one even looked at Paul. Their words softened, then faded away into a quiet that wasn’t empty. Paul exhaled one last time. No one led him away. And yet he left – not toward one faith or another, but toward something vast, warm and unknowable. Perhaps something that had been waiting at the end of each path all along.
The representatives gathered their things and bowed to each other in respect, each in their own way, and faded away.
Somewhere, beyond any words, Paul was laughing.
The tall man pursed his lips for a moment, then shrugged shoulders in surrender as he, too, slowly faded away into the ether.
This fictional piece features the traditional male figures of the dominant world religions. Female figures have also made essential contributions over the millennia. I’ll write about some of these in my next blog post.
