Quinquagesima Sunday
J.M.J.
Dreams and Visions of Saint John Bosco:
H E L L
I.
IntroductionMany of the dreams of St. John Bosco could more properly be called visions,
for God used this means to reveal His will for the Saint and for the boys of
the Oratory, as well as the future of the Salesian Congregation. Not only
did his dreams lead and direct the Saint, they also gave him wisdom and
guidance by which he was able to help and guide others upon their ways. He
was just nine years of age when he had his first dream that laid out his
life mission. It was this dream that impressed Pope Pius IX so much that he
ordered St. John Bosco to write down his dreams for the encouragement of his
Congregation and the rest of us. Through dreams God allowed him to know the
future of each of the boys of his Oratory. Through dreams God let him know
the boys' state of their souls. On February 1, 1865 St. John Bosco announced
that one of the boys will die soon. He knew the boy through the dream the
night before. On March 16, 1865, Anthony Ferraris passed away after
receiving the Last Sacraments. John Bisio, who helped Anthony and his mother
during the former's last hour, confirmed the story of his part in this
episode by a formal oath, concluding as follows: "Don Bosco told us many
other dreams concerning Oratory boys' deaths. We believed them to be true
prophecies. We still do, because unfailingly they came true. During the
seven years I lived at the Oratory, not a boy died without Don Bosco
predicting his death. We were also convinced that whoever died there under
his care and assistance surely went to heaven." (p. 201)
St. John Bosco had many dreams of prophecies concerning the future of the
Roman Catholic Church and of his Congregation. We hope to bring some of
these prophetic dreams to our web site (
http://www.enddays.ws/jbosco01.html)
in the near future. For now, we take an excerpt from the book "Dreams, Visions &
Prophecies of Don Bosco" edited by Rev. Eugene M. Brown, Don Bosco
Publications, New Rochelle, New York, 1986, pp. 211-227 ["Forty Dreams of
St. John Bosco" is available from
www.tanbooks.com]. The Scriptural
quotations are from the 1883 Douay-Rheims Bible.
One word of caution in interpreting dreams. The Holy Scripture tells us not
to put our trust in dreams unless they come from God. The dreams of evil
doers are just vanity. They are deceitful because true visions cannot come
from falsehood. Vision of dreams resembles a mirror. When a soiled face
appears in front of a mirror, the latter reflects a soiled face, not a clean
face:
The hopes of a man that is void of understanding are vain and deceitful:
and dreams lift up fools. The man that giveth heed to lying visions, is like
to him that catcheth at a shadow, and followeth after the wind. The vision
of dreams is the resemblance of one thing to another: as when a man's
likeness is before the face of a man. What truth can come from that which is
false ? Deceitful divinations, and lying omens, and the dreams of evil
doers, are vanity. And the heart fancieth as that of a woman in travail:
except it be a vision sent forth from the Most High, set not thy heart upon
them. For dreams have deceived many, and they have failed that put their
trust in them. (Ecclesiasticus 34: 1-7)
II.
Vision of HellOn Sunday night, May 3 [1868], the feast of Saint Joseph's patronage, Don
Bosco resumed the narration of his dreams:
I have another dream to tell you, a sort of aftermath of those I told you
last Thursday and Friday which totally exhausted me. Call them dreams or
whatever you like. Always, as you know, on the night of April 17 a frightful
toad seemed bent on devouring me. When it finally vanished, a voice said to
me: "Why don't you tell them?" I turned in that direction and saw a
distinguished person standing by my bed. Feeling guilty about my silence, I
asked: "What should I tell my boys?"
"What you have seen and heard in your last dreams and what you have wanted
to know and shall have revealed to you tomorrow night!" He then vanished.
I spent the whole next day worrying about the miserable night in store for
me, and when evening came, loath to go to bed, I sat at my desk browsing
through books until midnight. The mere thought of having more nightmares
thoroughly scare me. However, with great effort, I finally went to bed.
"Get up and follow me!" he said.
"For Heaven's sake," I protested, "leave me alone. I am exhausted! I've
been tormented by a toothache for several day now and need rest. Besides,
nightmares have completely worn me out." I said this because this man's
apparition always means trouble, fatigue, and terror for me.
"Get up," he repeated. "You have no time to lose."
I complied and followed him. "Where are you taking me?" I asked.
"Never mind. You'll see." He led me to a vast, boundless plain,
veritably a lifeless desert, with not a soul in sight or a tree or brook.
Yellowed, dried-up vegetation added to the desolation I had no idea where I
was or what was I to do. For a moment I even lost sight of my guide and
feared that I was lost, utterly alone. Father Rua, Father Francesia, nowhere
to be seen. When I finally saw my friend coming toward me, I sighed in
relief.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"Come with me and you will find out!"
"All right. I'll go with you."
He led the way and I followed in silence, but after a long, dismal
trudge, I began worrying whether I would ever be able to cross that vast
expanse, what with my toothache and swollen legs. Suddenly I saw a road
ahead. "Where to now?" I asked my guide.
"This way," he replied.
We took the road. It was beautiful, wide, and neatly paved. "The way of
sinners is made plain with stones, and in their end is hell, and darkness,
and pains. " (Ecclesiasticus 21: 11, stones: broad and easy.) Both sides
were lined with magnificent verdant hedges dotted with gorgeous flowers.
Roses, especially, peeped everywhere through the leaves. At first glance,
the road was level and comfortable, and so I ventured upon it without the
least suspicion, but soon I noticed that it insensibly kept sloping
downward. Though it did not look steep at all, I found myself moving so
swiftly that I felt I was effortlessly gliding through the air. Really, I
was gliding and hardly using my feet. Then the thought struck me that the
return trip would be very long and arduous.
"How shall we get back to the Oratory?" I asked worriedly.
"Do not worry," he answered. "The Almighty wants you to go. He who
leads you on will also know how to lead you back."
The road is sloping downward. As we were continuing on our way, flanked
by banks of roses and other flowers, I became aware that the Oratory boys
and very many others whom I did not know were following me. Somehow I found
myself in their midst. As I was looking at them, I noticed now one, now
another fall to the ground and instantly be dragged by an unseen force
toward a frightful drop, distantly visible, which sloped into a furnace.
"What makes these boys fall?" I asked my companion. "The proud have hidden a
net for me. And they have stretched out cords for a snare: they have laid
for me a stumbling-block by the wayside." (Psalms 139: 6)
"Take a closer look," he replied.
I did. Traps were everywhere, some close to the ground, others at eye
level, but all well concealed. Unaware of their danger, many boys got
caught, and they tripped, they would sprawl to the ground, legs in the air.
Then, when they managed to get back on their feet, they would run headlong
down the road toward the abyss. Some got trapped by the head, others by the
neck, hand, arms, legs, or sides, and were pulled down instantly. The ground
traps, fine as spiders' webs and hardly visible, seemed very flimsy and
harmless; yet, to my surprise, every boy they snared fell to the ground.
Noticing my astonishment, the guide remarked, "Do you know what this
is?"
"Just some filmy fiber," I answered.
"A mere nothing," he said, "just plain human respect.",
Seeing that many boys were being caught in those straps. I asked, "Why
do so many get caught? Who pulls them down?"
"Go nearer and you will see!" he told me.
I followed his advice but saw nothing peculiar.
"Look closer," he insisted.
I picked up one of the traps and tugged. I immediately felt some
resistance. I pulled harder, only to feel that, instead of drawing the
thread closer, I was being pulled down myself. I did not resist and soon
found myself at the mouth of a frightful cave. I halted, unwilling to
venture into that deep cavern, and again started pulling the thread toward
me. It gave a little, but only through great effort on my part. I kept
tugging, and after a long while a huge, hideous monster emerged, clutching a
rope to which all those traps were tied together. He was the one who
instantly dragged down anyone who got caught in them. It won't do to match
my strength with his, I said to myself. I'll certainly lose. I'd better
fight him with the Sign of the Cross and with short invocations.
Then I went back to my guide. "Now you know who he is," he said to me.
"I surely do! It is the devil himself!"
Carefully examining many of the traps, I saw that each bore an
inscription: Pride, Disobedience, Envy, Sixth Commandment, Theft, Gluttony,
Sloth, Anger and so on. Stepping back a bit to see which ones trapped the
greater number of boys, I discovered that the most dangerous were those of
impurity, disobedience, and pride. In fact, these three were linked to
together. Many other traps also did great harm, but not as much as the first
two. Still watching, I noticed many boys running faster than others. "Why
such haste?" I asked.
"Because they are dragged by the snare of human respect."
Looking even more closely, I spotted knives among the traps. A
providential hand had put them there for cutting oneself free. The bigger
ones, symbolizing meditation, were for use against the trap of pride;
others, not quite as big, symbolized spiritual reading well made. There were
also two swords representing devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, especially
through frequent Holy Communion, and to the Blessed Virgin. There was also a
hammer symbolizing confession, and other knives signifying devotion to Saint
Joseph, to Saint Aloysius, and to other Saints. By these means quite a few
boys were able to free themselves or evade capture.
Indeed I saw some lads walking safely through all those traps, either
by good timing before the trap sprung on them or by making it slip off them
if they got caught.
When my guide was satisfied that I had observed everything, he made me
continue along that rose-hedged road, but the farther we went the scarcer
the roses became. Long thorns began to show up, and soon the roses were no
more. The hedges became sun-scorched, leafless, and thorn-studded. Withered
branches torn from the bushes lay criss-crossed along the roadbed, littering
it with thorns and making it impassable. We had come now to a gulch whose
steep sides hid what lay beyond. The road, still sloping downward, was
becoming ever more horrid, rutted, guttered, and bristling with rocks and
boulders. I lost track of all my boys, most of whom had left this
treacherous road for other paths.
I kept going, but the farther I advanced, the more arduous and steep
became the descent, so that I tumbled and fell several times, lying
prostrate until I could catch my breath. Now and then my guide supported me
or helped me to rise. At every step my joints seemed to give way, and I
thought my shinbones would snap. Panting, I said to my guide, "My good
fellow, my legs won't carry me another step. I just can't go any farther."
He did not answer but continued walking. Taking heart, I followed
until, seeing me soaked in perspiration and thoroughly exhausted, he led me
to a little clearing alongside the road. I sat down, took a deep breath, and
felt a little better. From my resting place, the road I had already traveled
looked very steep, jagged, and strewn with loose stones, but what lay ahead
seemed so much worse that I closed my eyes in horror.
"Let's go back," I pleaded. "If we go any farther, how shall we ever
get back to the Oratory? I will never make it up this slope."
"Now that we have come so far, do you want me to leave you here?" my
guide sternly asked.
At this threat, I wailed, "How can I survive without your help?"
"Then follow me."
We continued our descent, the road now becoming so frightfully steep
that it was almost impossible to stand erect. And then, at the bottom of
this precipice, at the entrance of a dark valley, an enormous building
loomed into sight, its towering portal, tightly locked, facing our road.
When I finally got to the bottom, I became smothered by a suffocating heat,
while a greasy, green-tinted smoke lit by flashes of scarlet flames rose
from behind those enormous walls which loomed higher than mountains.
"Where are we? What is this?" I asked my guide.
"Read the inscription on that portal and you will know."
I looked up and read these words: "The place of no reprieve." I
realized that we were at the gates of Hell. The guide led me all around this
horrible place. At regular distance bronze portals like the first overlooked
precipitous descents; on each was an inscription, such as: "Depart from me,
ye cursed, into everlasting fire, which was prepared for the devil and his
angels." (Matthew 25: 41) "Every tree that yielded not good fruit, shall be
cut down, and shall be cast into the fire." (Matthew 7: 19)
I tried to copy them into my notebook, but my guide restrained me:
"There is no need. You have them all in Holy Scripture. You even have some
of them inscribed in your porticoes."
At such a sight I wanted to turn back and return to the Oratory. As a
matter of fact, I did start back, but my guide ignored my attempt. After
trudging through a steep, never-ending ravine, we again came to the foot of
the precipice facing the first portal. Suddenly the guide turned to me.
Upset and startled, he motioned to me to step aside. "Look!" he said.
I looked up in terror and saw in the distance someone racing down the
path at an uncontrollable speed. I kept my eyes on him, trying to identify
him, and as he got closer, I recognized him as one of my boys. His
disheveled hair was partly standing upright on his head and partly tossed
back by the wind. His arms were outstretched as though he were thrashing the
water in an attempt to stay afloat. He wanted to stop, but could not.
Tripping on the protruding stones, he kept falling even faster. "Let's help
him, let's stop him," I shouted, holding out my hands in a vain effort to
restrain him.
"Leave him alone," the guide replied.
"Why?"
"Don't you know how terrible God's vengeance is? Do you think you can
restrain one who is fleeing from His just wrath?"
Meanwhile the youth had turned his fiery gaze backward in an attempt to
see if God's wrath were still pursuing him. The next moment he fell tumbling
to the bottom of the ravine and crashed against the bronze portal as though
he could find no better refuge in his flight.
"Why was he looking backward in terror?" I asked.
"Because God's wrath will pierce Hell's gates to reach and torment him
even in the midst of fire!"
As the boy crashed into the portal, it sprang open with a roar, and
instantly a thousand inner portals opened with a deafening clamor as if
struck by a body that had been propelled by an invisible, most violent,
irresistible gale. As these bronze doors -- one behind the other, though at
a considerable distance from each other -- remained momentarily open, I saw
far into the distance something like furnace jaws sprouting fiery balls the
moment the youth hurtled into it. As swiftly as they had opened, the portals
then clanged shut again. For a third time I tried to jot down the name of
that unfortunate lad, but the guide again restrained me.
"Wait," he ordered.
"Watch!"
Three other boys of ours, screaming in terror and with arms
outstretched, were rolling down one behind the other like massive rocks, I
recognized them as they too crashed against the portal. In that split
second, it sprang open and so did the other thousand. The three lads were
sucked into that endless corridor amid a long-drawn, fading, infernal echo,
and then the portals clanged shut again. At intervals, many other lads came
tumbling down after them. I saw one unlucky boy being pushed down the slope
by an evil companion. Others fell singly or with others, arm in arm or side
by side. Each of them bore the name of his sin on his forehead. I kept
calling to them as they hurtled down, but they did not hear me. Again the
portals would open thunderously and slam shut with a rumble. Then, dead
silence!
"Bad companions, bad books, and bad habits," my guide exclaimed, "are
mainly responsible for so many eternally lost."
The traps I had seen earlier were indeed dragging the boys to ruin.
Seeing so many going to perdition, I cried out disconsolately, "If so many
of our boys end up this way, we are working in vain. How can we prevent such
tragedies?"
"This is their present state," my guide replied, "and that is where
they would go if they were to die now."
"Then let me jot down their names so that I may warn them and put them
back on the path to Heaven."
"Do you really believe that some of them would reform if you were to
warn them? Then and there your warning might impress them, but soon they
will forget it, saying, 'It was just a dream,' and they will do worse than
before. Others, realizing they have been unmasked, receive the sacraments,
but this will be neither spontaneous nor meritorious; others will go to
confession because of a momentary fear of Hell but will still be attached to
sin."
"Then is there no way to save these unfortunate lads? Please, tell me
what I can do for them."
"They have superiors; let them obey them. They have rules; let them
observe them. They have the sacraments; let them receive them."
Just then a new group of boys came hurtling down and the portals
momentarily opened.
"Let's go in," the guide said to me.
I pulled back in horror. I could not wait to rush back to the Oratory
to warn the boys lest others might be lost as well.
"Come," my guide insisted. "You'll learn much. But first tell me: Do
you wish to go alone or with me?" He asked this to make me realize that I
was not brave enough and therefore needed his friendly assistance.
"Alone inside that horrible place?" I replied. "How will I ever be able
to find my way out without your help?" Then a thought came to my mind and
aroused my courage. Before one is condemned to Hell, I said to myself, he
must be judged. And I haven't been judged yet!
"Let's go," I exclaimed resolutely. We entered that narrow, horrible
corridor and whizzed through it with lightning speed. Threatening
inscriptions shone eerily over all the inner gateways. The last one opened
into a vast, grim courtyard with a large, unbelievably forbidding entrance
at the far end. Above it stood this inscription: "These shall go into
everlasting punishment." (Matthew 25: 46) The walls all about were similarly
inscribed. I asked my guide if I could read them, and he consented. These
were the inscriptions:
"He will give fire, and worms into their flesh, and they may burn and
may feel forever." (Judith 16: 21)
"The pool of fire where both the beast and the false prophet shall be
tormented day and night forever and ever." (Apocalypse 20: 9-10)
"And the smoke of their torments shall ascend up forever and ever."
(Apocalypse 14: 11)
"A land of misery and darkness, where the shadow of death, and no
order, but everlasting horror dwelleth." (Job 10: 22)
"There is no peace to the wicked." (Isaias 47: 22)
"There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth." (Matthew 8:12)
While I moved from one inscription to another, my guide, who had stood
in the center of the courtyard, came up to me.
"From here on," he said, "no one may have a helpful companion, a
comforting friend, a loving heart, a compassionate glance, or a benevolent
word. All this is gone forever. Do you just want to see or would you rather
experience these things yourself?"
"I only want to see!" I answered.
"Then come with me," my friend added, and, taking me in tow, he stepped
through that gate into a corridor at whose far end stood an observation
platform, closed by a huge, single crystal pane reaching from the pavement
to the ceiling. As soon as I crossed its threshold, I felt an indescribable
terror and dared not take another step. Ahead of me I could see something
like an immense cave which gradually disappeared into recesses sunk far into
the bowels of the mountains. They were all ablaze, but theirs was not an
earthly fire with leaping tongues of flames. The entire cave --walls,
ceiling, floor, iron, stones, wood, and coal -- everything was a glowing
white at temperatures of thousands of degrees. Yet the fire did not
incinerate, did not consume. I simply can't find words to describe the
cavern's horror. "The nourishment thereof is fire and much wood: the breath
of the Lord as a torrent of brimstone kindling it." (Isaias 30: 33)
I was staring in bewilderment about me when a lad dashed out of a gate.
Seemingly unaware of anything else, he emitted a most shrilling scream, like
one who is about to fall into a cauldron of liquid bronze, and plummeted
into the center of the cave. Instantly he too became incandescent and
perfectly motionless, while the echo of his dying wail lingered for an
instant more.
Terribly frightened, I stared briefly at him for a while. He seemed to
be one of my Oratory boys. "Isn't he so and so?" I asked my guide.
"Yes," was the answer.
"Why is he so still, so incandescent?"
"You chose to see," he replied. "Be satisfied with that. Just keep
looking. Besides, "Everyone shall be salted with fire." (Mark 9: 48)
As I looked again, another boy came hurtling down into the cave at
breakneck speed. He too was from the Oratory. A he fell, so he remained. He
too emitted one single heart-rending shriek that blended with the last echo
of the scream that came from the youth who had preceded him. Other boys kept
hurtling in the same way in increasing numbers, all screaming the same way
and then all becoming equally motionless and incandescent. I noticed that
the first seemed frozen to the spot, one hand and one foot raised into the
air; the second boy seemed bent almost double to the floor. Others stood or
hung in various other positions, balancing themselves on one foot or hand,
sitting or lying on their backs or on their sides, standing or kneeling,
hands clutching their hair. Briefly, the scene resembled a large statuary
group of youngsters cast into ever more painful postures. Other lads hurtled
into that same furnace. Some I knew; others were strangers to me. I then
recalled what is written in the Bible to the effect that as one falls into
Hell, so he shall forever remain. ". . . in what place soever it shall fall,
there shall it be." (Ecclesiastes 11:3)
More frightened than ever, I asked my guide, "When these boys come
dashing into this cave, don't they know where they are going?"
"They surely do. They have been warned a thousand times, but they still
choose to rush into the fire because they do not detest sin and are loath to
forsake it. Furthermore, they despise and reject God's incessant, merciful
invitations to do penance. Thus provoked, Divine Justice harries them,
hounds them, and goads them on so that they cannot halt until the reach this
place."
"Oh, how miserable these unfortunate boys must feel in knowing they no
longer have any hope," I exclaimed.
"If you really want to know their innermost frenzy and fury, go a
little closer," my guide remarked.
I took a few steps forward and saw that many of those poor wretches
were savagely striking at each other like mad dogs. Others were clawing
their own faces and hands, tearing their own flesh and spitefully throwing
it about. Just then the entire ceiling of the cave became as transparent as
crystal and revealed a patch of Heaven and their radiant companions safe for
all eternity.
The poor wretches, fuming and panting with envy, burned with rage
because they had once ridiculed the just. "The wicked shall see, and be
angry, he shall gnash with his teeth, and pine away. . . " (Psalms 111: 10)
"Why do hear no sound?" I asked my guide,
"Go closer!" he advised.
Pressing my ear to the crystal window, I heard screams and sobs,
blasphemies and imprecations against the Saints. It was a tumult of voices
and cries, shrill and confused.
"When they recall the happy lot of their good companions," he replied,
"they are obliged to admit: "We fools esteemed their life madness, and their
end without honour. Behold, how they are numbered among the children of God,
and their lot is among the saints. Therefore we have erred from the way of
truth, and the light of justice hath not shined unto us, and the sun of
understanding hath not risen upon us." (Wisdom 5:4-6)
"We wearied ourselves in the way of iniquity and destruction, and have
walked through hard ways, but the way of the Lord we have not known. What
hath pride profited us ? or what advantage hath the boasting of riches
brought us ? All those things are passed away like a shadow." (Wisdom 5:
7-9)
"Here time is no more. Here is only eternity."
While I viewed the condition of many of my boys in utter terror, a
thought suddenly struck me. "How can these boys be damned?" I asked. "Last
night they were still alive at the Oratory!"
"The boys you see here," he answered, "are all dead to God's grace.
Were they to die now or persist in their evil ways, they would be damned.
But we are wasting time. Let us go on."
He led me away and we went down through a corridor into a lower cavern,
at whose entrance I read: "Their worm shall not die, and their fire shall
not be quenched." (Isaias 66: 24) "He will give fire, and worms into their
flesh, and they may burn and may feel forever." (Judith 16: 21)
Here one could see how atrocious was the remorse of those who had been
pupils in our schools. What a torment was theirs, to remember each
unforgiven sin and its just punishment, the countless, even extraordinary means they
had had to mend their ways, persevere in virtue, and earn paradise, and
their lack of response to the many favors promised and bestowed by the
Virgin Mary. What a torture to think that they could have been saved so
easily, yet now are irredeemably lost, and to remember the many good
resolutions made and never kept. Hell is indeed paved with good intentions!
In this lower cavern I again saw those Oratory boys who had fallen into
the fiery furnace. Some are listening to me right now; others are former
pupils or even strangers to me. I drew closer to them and noticed that they
were all covered with worms and vermin which gnawed at their vitals, hearts,
eyes, hands, legs, and entire bodies so ferociously as to defy description.
Helpless and motionless, they were a prey to every kind of torment. Hoping I
might be able to speak with them or to hear something from them, I drew even
closer but no one spoke or even looked at me. I then asked my guide why, and
he explained that the damned are totally deprived of freedom. Each must
fully endure his own punishment, with absolutely no reprieve whatever.
"And now," he added, "you too must enter that cavern."
"Oh, no!" I objected in terror. "Before going to Hell, one has to be
judged. I have not been judged yet, and so I will not go to Hell!"
"Listen," he said, "what would you rather do: visit Hell and save your
boys, or stay outside and leave them in agony?"
For a moment I was struck speechless. "Of course I love my boys and
wish to save them all," I replied, "but isn't there some other way out?"
"Yes, there is a way," he went on, "provided you do all you can."
I breathed more easily and instantly said to myself, I don't mind
slaving if I can rescue these beloved sons of mine from such torments.
"Come inside then," my friend went on, "and see how our good, almighty
God lovingly provides a thousand means for guiding your boys to penance and
saving them from everlasting death."
Taking my hand, he led me into the cave. As I stepped in, I found
myself suddenly transported into a magnificent hall whose curtained glass
doors concealed more entrances.
Above one of them I read this inscription: The Sixth Commandment.
Pointing to it, my guide exclaimed, "Transgressions of this commandment
caused the eternal ruin of many boys."
"Didn't they go to confession?"
"They did, but they either omitted or insufficiently confessed the sins
against the beautiful virtue of purity, saying for instance that they had
committed such sins two or three times when it was four or five. Other boys
may have fallen into that sin but once in their childhood, and, through
shame, never confessed it or did so insufficiently. Others were not truly
sorry or sincere in their resolve to avoid it in the future. There were even
some who, rather than examine their conscience, spent their time trying to
figure out how best to deceive their confessor. Anyone dying in this frame
of mind chooses to be among the damned, and so he is doomed for all
eternity. Only those who die truly repentant shall be eternally happy. Now
do you want to see why our merciful God brought you here?" He lifted the
curtain and I saw a group of Oratory boys -- all known to me -- who were
there because of this sin. Among them were some whose conduct seems to be
good.
"Now you will surely let me take down their names so that I may warn
them individually," I exclaimed.
"Then what do you suggest I tell them?"
"Always preach against immodesty. A generic warning will suffice. Bear
in mind that even if you did admonish them individually, they would promise,
but not always in earnest. For a firm resolution, one needs God's grace
which will not be denied to your boys if they pray. God manifests His power
especially by being merciful and forgiving. On your part, pray and make
sacrifices. As for the boys, let them listen to your admonitions and consult
their conscience. It will tell them what to do."
We spent the next half hour discussing the requisites of a good
confession. Afterward, my guide several times exclaimed in a loud voice,
"Avertere! Avertere!"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Change life! "
Perplexed, I bowed my head and made as if to withdraw, but he held me
back.
"You haven't seen everything yet," he explained.
He turned and lifted another curtain bearing this inscription: "They
who would become rich, fall into temptation, and to the snare of the
devil." (1 Timothy 6: 9) (Note: would become rich: wish to become rich, seek
riches, set their heart and affections toward riches.)
"This does not apply to my boys! I countered, "because they are as poor
as I am. We are not rich and do not want to be. We give it no thought."
As the curtain was lifted, however, I saw a group of boys, all known to
me. They were in pain, like those I had seen before. Pointing to them, my
guide remarked, "As you see, the inscription does apply to your boys."
"But how?" I asked.
"Well," he said, "some boys are so attached to material possessions
that their love of God is lessened. Thus they sin against charity, piety,
and meekness. Even the mere desire of riches can corrupt the heart,
especially if such a desire leads to injustice. Your boys are poor, but
remember that greed and idleness are bad counselors. One of your boys
committed substantial thefts in his native town, and though he could make
restitution, he gives it not a thought. There are others who try to break
into the pantry or the prefect's or economer's office; those who rummage in
their companions' trunks for food, money, or possessions; those who steal
stationery and books...."
After naming these boys and others as well, he continued, "Some are
here for having stolen clothes, linen, blankets, and coats from the Oratory
wardrobe in order to send them home to their families; others for willful,
serious damage; others, yet, for not having given back what they had
borrowed or for having kept sums of money they were supposed to hand over to
the superior. Now that you know who these boys are," he concluded, "admonish
them. Tell them to curb all vain, harmful desires, to obey God's law and to
safeguard their reputation jealously lest greed lead them to greater
excesses and plunge them into sorrow, death, and damnation."
I couldn't understand why such dreadful punishments should be meted out
for infractions that boys thought so little of, but my guide shook me out of
my thoughts by saying: "Recall what you were told when you saw those spoiled
grapes on the wine." With these words he lifted another curtain which hid
many of our Oratory boys, all of whom I recognized instantly. The
inscription on the curtain read: The root of all evils.
"Do you know what that means?" he asked me immediately.
"What sin does that refer to?"
"Pride?"
"No!"
"And yet I have always heard that pride is the root of all evil."
"It is, generally speaking, but, specifically, do you know what led
Adam and Eve to commit the first sin for which they were driven away from
their earthly paradise?"
"Disobedience?"
"Exactly! Disobedience is the root of all evil."
"What shall I tell my boys about it?"
"Listen carefully: the boys you see here are those who prepare such a
tragic end for themselves by being disobedient. So-and-so and so-and-so, who
you think went to bed, leave the dormitory later in the night to roam about
the playground, and, contrary to orders, they stray into dangerous areas and
up scaffolds, endangering even their lives. Others go to church, but,
ignoring recommendations, they misbehave; instead of praying, they daydream
or cause a disturbance. There are also those who make themselves comfortable
so as to doze off during church services, and those who only make believe
they are going to church. Woe to those who neglect prayer! He who does not
pray dooms himself to perdition. Some are here because, instead of singing
hymns or saying the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin, they read frivolous
or -- worse yet -- forbidden books." He then went on mentioning other
serious breaches of discipline.
When he was done, I was deeply moved.
"May I mention all these things to my boys?" I asked, looking at him
straight in the eye.
"Yes, you may tell them whatever you remember."
"What advice shall I give them to safeguard them from such a tragedy?"
"Keep telling them that by obeying God, the Church, their parents, and
their superiors, even in little things, they will be saved."
"Anything else?"
"Warn them against idleness. Because of idleness David fell into sin.
Tell them to keep busy at all times, because the devil will not then have a
chance to tempt them."
I bowed my head and promised. Faint with dismay, I could only mutter,
"Thanks for having been so good to me. Now, please lead me out of here."
"All right, then, come with me." Encouragingly he took my hand and held
me up because I could hardly stand on my feet. Leaving that hall, in no time
at all we retraced our steps through that horrible courtyard and the long
corridor. But as soon as we stepped across the last bronze portal, he turned
to me and said, "Now that you have seen what others suffer, you too must
experience a touch of Hell."
"No, no!" I cried in terror.
He insisted, but I kept refusing.
"Do not be afraid," he told me; "just try it. Touch this wall."
I could not muster enough courage and tried to get away, but he held me
back. "Try it," he insisted. Gripping my arm firmly, he pulled me to the
wall. "Only one touch," he commanded, "so that you may say you have both
seen and touched the walls of eternal suffering and that you may understand
what the last wall must be like if the first is so unendurable. Look at this
wall!"
I did intently. It seemed incredibly thick. "There are a thousand
walls between this and the real fire of Hell," my guide continued. "A
thousand walls encompass it, each a thousand measures thick and equally
distant from the next one. Each measure is a thousand miles. This wall
therefore is millions and millions of miles from Hell's real fire. It is
just a remote rim of Hell itself."
When he said this, I instinctively pulled back, but he seized my hand,
forced it open, and pressed it against the first of the thousand walls. The
sensation was so utterly excruciating that I leaped back with a scream and
found myself sitting up in bed. My hand was stinging and I kept rubbing it
to ease the pain. When I got up this morning I noticed that it was swollen.
Having my hand pressed against the wall, though only in a dream, felt so
real that, later, the skin of my palm peeled off.
Bear in mind that I have tried not to frighten you very much, and so I
have not described these things in all their horror as I saw them and as
they impressed me. We know that Our Lord always portrayed Hell in symbols
because, had He described it as it really is, we would not have understood
Him. No mortal can comprehend these things. The Lord knows them and He
reveals them to whomever He wills.
"Pray and work for souls."
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