Getting ready for Saturday, before I left the office I set the Outlook email Out of Office reply function to this:
Hi there. It is Friday afternoon and I am turning the OUT OF OFFICE REPLY on because tomorrow, Saturday, is supposed to be the end of the world.
Being a responsible and thoughtful person (which I think should count), I want to make sure you knew I was not available and wouldn’t be returning – ever – as the skies will have parted and I will have floated up to my heavenly reward. Otherwise, I would have turned this off when I came into the office this morning with the rest of the office crew (more fails).
Since I am unsure of the reason you contacted me, I don’t know who to tell you to call because I really don’t know who might have been left behind. There are a lot of names you could choose from and you would probably be correct. Just pick one and see if they answer the phone.
As for me, I will be watching from a comfortable cloud as the travesty continues to unfold here on this earthly plane.
Good luck and, for what it’s worth, maybe you still have a chance.
OUT OF OFFICE REPLY – UPDATE - after the fold
OUT OF OFFICE REPLY – UPDATE
Hi there. You tried to email me and got an out of office response. Before you jump to conclusions, let me explain what happened to me on Saturday.
First, the rapture did happen.
At approximately at 5:00 PM (CST), as I was standing out in front of the apartment smoking a very, very good cigar, it happened. A city bus had just stopped at the light on the corner but the air still smelled of last night’s rain. Suddenly, I felt everything shift. The air was … cleaner/clearer, it smelled of wonderful flowers and I could hear the wind and leaves rustling. I looked around that things started to fade from the street scene. The bus, the cars in the parking lot, all the buildings disappeared and I was suddenly in a large open field full of daisies.
Even though I hated daisies, I immediately knew I had been rapped (the past active verb form for rapture). The daisies were confusing however, since I had always heard that those that go before see their most favorite things and ones they loved who had gone before. Daises didn’t make my list of favorite flowers. That would be iris or very fragrant roses. And there wasn’t any type of reception crew. No family - not even a single, winged angel with name tag. I was just suddenly in this open area along with some others seemingly scattered around in no apparent order.
That was a little confusing too, as I would think God would have had better pre-event planning, but there were paths leading to this huge arena type building. Sort of like the old Superdome in New Orleans. In fact, it looked a lot like the old Dome prior to the hurricane. Of course God would need a large venue and who knew how many of these things would be going on. After all he was covering the entire planet and I would think a complete world of people would have ascended into the heavens at 5:00 PM (CST). We started walking toward the building.
As I got closer to the building, I noticed that there was no security, no turnstiles or ticket windows, no hot dog or beer stands either, just large open entry-ways that lead to the seats. I walked into the arena and found myself in a basically a giant football field. Great, I thought, now Texans will continue to gloat that football was God’s game. That’s all l needed, spending eternity with even more boastful Texans.
Like a kid, I stood at the ramp-way and scanned the entire arena. I marveled at the site as I did the first time I walked into Wrigley Field in Chicago in the early 60’s. And since it was the end of the world, maybe the Cubs finally had a chance this season to win the Series this year; it was still early.
Signs hung around the arena for all the different regions of the world: Asia, India, the Middle East, Africa, Europe, South America, Canada, and the USA. There was a scattering of people here and there. A lot of seats in the Asia section were filled; the Middle East – not so many; Europe was completely empty. I wondered how this would work, assuming there would be tens of hundreds of thousands more people to arrive.
In the middle of the field, there was a choir of heavenly hosts, singing the most beautiful music I had ever heard. It was an indescribable sound. I will never again hear Freddie Mercury’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” the same. Freddie must be pretty proud even as he was roasting (as proclaimed by those of the Christian Far Right) in the everlasting fires of Hades since, as everyone knows, he was Parsi born in Zanzibar. The fact he was a sodomite probably didn’t help much either, especially with all those southern Christians.
An angel guide directed me over to the USA section. The angel guide was very pleasant and wore sharply tailored suit and blue shirt, open at the collar. If he hadn’t had a golden halo hovering over his head, I never would have guessed he was an angel. No wings either. Go figure what else those preacher guys got wrong.
Most people were heading down to the first rows of the section, but being somewhat of hanger-back and watcher, I went a couple of rows up and to the left of the crowd. I picked an aisle seat in case this was like “The Price is Right” or "Let's Make a Deal".
At first, I passed the time listening to the music but the choir had switched to the “The Fields are Alive” from the “Sound of Music” soundtrack. Heavenly choir or not, I absolutely hate that song so I shifted my attention to the people and conversations taking place in the section.
Too be honest, I was shocked there weren’t that many people in the USA section. I live in the bible-belt of the south and to listen to those people, they were ALL coming to meet God. But you could have fit the entire group in a respectable-sized Micky D’s, or Denny’s (Denny’s has free coffee refills and that new Bacon deal so that would have been my choice.) There was absolutely no one from Arkansas that I knew. That wasn’t too big a surprise given all the people I had met. Really, think about it, especially if you live in the bible belt.
There were a couple of older Hassidic males (probably from New York) sitting three rows down. I could hear them discussing what had happened and debating if God made mistakes. They were pretty sure they were in the wrong place. I didn’t know if they were in the wrong place but I also wasn’t sure they didn’t have something on that mistake business, given the daisies, the lack of a reception committee, no wings on the angels and then the “Sound of Music” soundtrack. And that doesn’t even touch the early mistakes like telling the chosen people not to eat bacon. I mean, come-on, Bacon!
All of a sudden the choir stopped singing and streams of angels started filling the field. More and more angels were walking on to the grass and surrounding the stage. They came down all the ramps, through every entrance and I wondered how could the field hold so many of God’s second greatest creation? Greatest to hear their side of the story.
Then they all started singing Samuel Barber’s “Adagio for Strings”, a capella! Their voices became an orchestra of strings and all the air filled with the music I had always known was whispered directly from God to Barber. From the moment they started the opening sustained b flat which is slowly merged with the viola’s coming in two beats after the opening, to the crescendo of 10,000 voices echoing and vibrating through all of space and time, to the slow re-composition of the thematic opening, I knew not a single sound was made, not a single thing moved in all the universe. Time stopped. Heaven and all the planets, earth and all the people and all the creatures on the planet waited and listened for the 10 minutes in which God made manifest in that music his deepest sorrow and sadness for all of fallen children.
And at the end, as the final notes continued to resonate across all of time and space and faded to a long sustained note, a path opened among all the angels and a small man walked through the crowd, heads bowing as he passed. The arena stayed quiet. I don’t remember time passing but I noticed the slowly, one by one, the others in the stands would suddenly have a halo over their head and then they somehow float down to the field and join the angels.
Eventually I was left alone in the US section. I could see few others still sitting over in the Asia section until they eventually simply faded away. They didn’t join the others in the field.
Then I was left total alone. The last one in the stands, just watching - watching all the angels, their radiate and glowing and beautiful faces turned toward the platform.
I looked at God’s face and, somehow across all of that space, I looked directly into his eyes. I heard a voice, so soft and so gentle, that all the peace and all the love that could ever had been made manifest in all of Gods time swelled inside me until I felt like I was going to explode.
And he said, “Would you like to join us?”
For some reason I paused, not really sure but also not sure why not.
I looked around and said, “Well… I…I thought there would be more here.”
He looked around at the now empty stadium seats and the crowd on the field. “Yes.
So did I.”
“What happened? I asked.
“You know people. Free will. Choices. Ego.”
He paused for so I could keep up with his thoughts. He tilted his head and smiled. “A lot kept confusing the message with the messenger. The Message has always been the same - acceptance, forgiveness, compassion, love - although the Messenger changes over time. Rather than being the message, they spoke empty words from the messenger. Words didn’t match actions; their mouths spoke but their actions and hearts were filled with judgment and criticism, not compassion and forgiveness.”
I thought of people I had met in Arkansas. The multi-million dollar churches filled with 1,000’s of people. Bentonville, Fayetteville, Little Rock. The thousands of smaller churches across the state, across the south, at best – all talk, no do; the worst using dogma of church “leaders” to take precedence over the message. Homelessness, no medical care, no food, poverty and while "Christian" values kept foster children in temporary homes and without families.
I took a few deep breaths. I didn’t feel any need to hurry or be anxious but I was wondering how I made it this far, after all mistakes happen all the time. I thought of the two Hassidic Jews that were sitting in a couple of rows away. Now they were on the field.
“I always heard all those big Christian, southern folk say you would have someone sitting on the right.”
God laughed. It sounded like a thousand wind chimes dancing in the breeze at the same time. “I’m not sitting.”
He chucked and I could feel myself smiling. “It’s that confusion again you heard. Does a loving parent show favoritism with their children? Everyone is my child; I love everyone, not one more than another; everyone is at the right hand.”
I must have looked as confused as I was feeling when I heard that and before I could ask, God explained, “Don’t think too much about it. Just remember - with me, all things are possible.”
It was my turn to laugh. I looked at God again. I was still smiling. “There are people I really care about who aren’t here”.
“I know.”
“Is it too late?”
“No. Not yet."
“What has to happen?”
“Just be what you are; what was created. Practice.”
“I don’t sit mediation very often. I’m not perfect. I make a lot of mistakes.”
“I don’t make, “not perfect”. You are; you always have been. You just forget. And mistakes - they happen. Look at me. I thought Bacon was bad at first. Who knew? Don’t sit. Do. Live. Life wasn’t created to be sitting all the time."
God stopped for a moment, then said, "Make some people laugh, bring some joy and light to someone, even if it’s just for a second. When you are who you are, some people find grace and forgiveness with you. And those you care about - love them; accept them; forgive them.”
God paused as he got this look in his face, his smile fade. I think that his eyes even became heavier. “Forgive them. And then be sure to forgive them again, and again, and again because they will break your heart a hundred thousand times, across all of your lives.”
As I watch him, I noticed a small tear running down the side of his face. Then Barber’s Adagio began again but now the field held over 100,000 angels each with violin, viola, cello, each string moving in perfect time and sequence with the others. The low b flat and low strings began to fill up the arena. I knew what my choice was, just as those in the Asia section who slowly disappeared knew.
“Earth is a great place.”
God turned to me again and smiled. “Yeah. One of my favorites vacation spots. Third time’s a charm.”
And then I was in front of the apartment with my very, very good cigar. The air still smelled of yesterday’s rain and now diesal fuel. The bus still idling on the corner waiting for the light to change.
One of the homeless who wander the city streets in Little Rock came around the corner. There was a statewide free dental clinic down the street from where I live. They have one once a year for the poor who can't afford dental care. Over 800 people yesterday, a 1000 plue people waiting today for dental care in such a "Christian" oriented state.
“Excuse me sir. I don’t mean to bother you but haven’t had anything to eat since Thursday and was wondering if you could help me out.”
I looked at him as I reached into my pants pocket. Usually I don’t carry cash around but I reached in and to my surprise felt some money. I pulled out bill and handed it over without really looking at it. “This is what I have. Good luck Brother. “
He took the bill and immediately said “Thank you. Thank you very much. God Bless you sir.”
“No, Brother. God bless you. Be safe and be with God.” I said quietly as he walked away.
As I watched him cross the street and weave through the parking lot toward Micky D’s, I could have swore there was a gleam from halo over his head but it might have just been the evening light. Earth is like that. Each day all the horrors, evil and sadness of those lost and forgotten while at the same time - all the wonders and glory of God made manifest in a world of unlimited opportunities and creation - laughter, the smell and sound of rain, a good cigar, a dear friend who comforts and accepts you, a couple dollars for a Bacon Cheeseburger. God and all of heaven, all around us, in us, between us and in all things.
Ultimate enlightment is not end of the journey, althought the end is always a choice. Ultimate enlightment is the realization of the ones responsibilty to return and assist.
Responsiblity. Again. The cigar smoke lingered in the early summer air. It was a great start to a Saturday evening. I made a mental note to turn off the Out of Office Reply.