August 21, 1998. Rev. Lawrence C. Murphy pauses before entering the Gates of Hell. He talks with the guard, an average-looking man with a flaming clipboard.
MURPHY: Excuse me, there’s been a mistake.
GUARD: Rev. Lawrence C. Murphy? From St. John’s School For The Deaf in St. Francis, Wisconsin?
MURPHY: Yes.
GUARD: No mistake. This way to eternal damnation.
MURPHY: You don’t understand. I’ve been forgiven.
GUARD: There’s no record of that.
MURPHY: I was there, I should know. I got Last Rites.
GUARD: Were you conscious?
MURPHY: No.
GUARD: That way to the lake of fire.
MURPHY: You mean I died unshriven?
GUARD: Don’t ask me, I just work here.
MURPHY: Okay, I was really forgiven before that. A long time before that.
GUARD: By whom?
MURPHY: The Archbishop.
GUARD: Forgiven?
MURPHY: Not exactly, but I wasn’t punished.
GUARD: Lack of punishment is not forgiveness. It’s more like a vacation.
MURPHY: Okay, I did something that some people might think was wrong, but I wasn’t punished.
GUARD: Hmm. Was there any official recognition of wrongdoing?
MURPHY: No, not even by the Pope. Although, he wasn’t Pope at the time. He was a Cardinal.
GUARD: Congratulations!
MURPHY: I go to Heaven?
GUARD: No, you got away with something. The wailing and the gnashing of teeth begin at seven. Don’t be late.
MURPHY: Who’s in charge here?
GUARD: See that line over there? That’s the line to see the Devil.
MURPHY: That’ll take forever.
GUARD: You’re catching on.
MURPHY: I want to speak to him now.
GUARD: Get in line – if you know what’s bad for you.
Father Murphy gets in line and – after what seems like an eternity – gets to speak with the Devil himself, another average-looking man except he’s bright red and wears a pink suit.
DEVIL: Drives the art directors crazy. (He takes a long sip from a tall, cold glass of lemonade.) Want some?
MURPHY: Sure!
DEVIL: Can’t have it. Ha! I love myself.
MURPHY: There’s been a mistake. I should be in Heaven.
DEVIL: By all means, let’s get down to business. You’re Father Murphy, right?
MURPHY: Yes.
DEVIL: Do you know why you’re here?
MURPHY: No.
DEVIL: To make my life miserable, that’s why! This was a good job until the priests starting coming. Sure, it’s Hell, but I got to rule and that was enough for me. Then it started filling up with Catholic priests – and they all think they’re special. “I repented. I was forgiven.” God doesn’t care! God sent you here for treating his church like a toilet! You, Father Murphy, took hundreds of innocent, little boys - deaf boys, that’s the brilliant part, even I couldn’t have imagined that – and raped them over a period of twenty years. They were already disabled and you ruined them for life! Is there any doubt that you belong in Hell?
MURPHY: But the Pope –
DEVIL: He’s coming. Don’t worry about him. I opened a new German wing after World War Two and there’s plenty of room for the Pope.
MURPHY: But I spent my entire life serving God. I can’t believe he would do this to me.
DEVIL: If it’s any consolation, that’s the worst part of his job.
MURPHY: It’s no consolation at all.
DEVIL: Good! I thought I was losing my touch. Now, beat it before I get angry. You don’t want to see me angry.
Brilliant. You speak for many, including myself. Isn't it ironic that the Catholic Church has historically ignored the civil justice system and yet uses it to defend itself, and to declare bankruptcy, when it's expedient? They have earned contempt, and are corrupt from the top.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Donna. What's sad is how little exaggeration was involved in writing the piece. It's all taken from the newspaper.
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