Go to…where?

Oh you can just go to…where?

Before you start reading, please be warned this post contains some dramatic and often controversial concepts. Words like forgiveness, repentance, and hope are used, and not ironically.  We may even talk about politics and religion. Certainly, about the religious.

It has been a week and a day since Pope Francis was asked in an Italian television interview, how he imagined hell. He answered “It’s difficult to imagine it. What I would say is not a dogma of faith, but my personal thought: I like to think hell is empty; I hope it is.” It would seem, as Cindy Wooten wrote in an article for the Catholic News Service, to be an answer we should have expected. She wrote, “An emphasis on God’s mercy has so dominated Pope Francis’ pontificate that it should surprise no one that he said he hopes hell is empty.”

As of yesterday, social media is still buzzing. Perhaps people had to take a week to check out how their followers, connections, fellow former Twitterites, and “friends” felt about this, because we know that in the world of social media, we must all take a stand in every subject imaginable, especially after we find out what stand the loudest of the loud are taking. I won’t go into all of the ridiculous excuses people came up with to garner their 15 seconds of fame, suffice it to say that as with most issues from the Bill of Rights to the Las Vegas odds on the NFL playoffs, the loudest of the loud also demonstrated how easy it is to formulate an opinion before, and often instead of looking at obvious facts. The most often cited arguments against hoping hell has a lot of vacancies are what about Hitler (and other examples you don’t have to go back 80 years to find), what about serial killers, what about justice, and what about the devil himself.

“I like to think hell is empty; I hope it is.” None of those 11 words states nor even suggests there is no hell or there are no people bad enough to be worthy of hell, nor the existence of the devil if that is what you believe. The statement can be twisted into a more secular aspiration, “I like to think no newborn ever is sick enough to have to be admitted to a neonatal intensive care unit,” or “I like to think there will never be a car accident so bad the fire fighters have to cut an injured person out of a burning wreck.” It is a statement of hope, of desire, even of a challenge made to mankind to admit wrongdoing, confess and repent and rely on God’s mercy to save you from the sure damnation to the hell that we’d rather see empty.

I bring this up because it so reflects how far people will go to argue a point. It is not a matter of religion. We do this with statements from religious leaders, world leaders, celebrities, pretend celebrities, politicians, athletes, anybody we perceive as trying to “tell us what to do.” The arguments are universal. Much too often people don’t read, don’t listen, don’t know what’s been said before they start arguing a point, often the point they want to argue rather than whatever has been said, or to only parts of what had been said. (Note Pope Francis’ qualification “my personal thought.”) Just as big a concern are the people who have no stake in the discussion. Continuing with the Pope’s statement, there were many social media posts along the lines of “what does it matter, there is no Heaven or hell.” In that case, why even address the situation.

We do this with religion, with politics, and for too many even within our own families. It is easier to argue a point than defend it or to logically challenge it. Just look at the convoluted arguments surrounding the First and Second Amendments. People want to interpret to fit their expectations rather than read and understand what was intended.

Every religion believes in repentance, contrition, and mercy. Each has some dogma that says we can be forgiven for whatever wrongs we’ve done. Stepping outside religion, most societies also have systems of repentance and forgiveness. (“I’d like to think we are good enough to each other that prisons are empty.”) Every religion also has some prophetic personages. Ask most people of the role of the prophets and the response most probably is to foretell events. And although some prophets sometimes did, most carried messages to the people to repent. Now, ask most people what it means to repent, and the most common answer would be to express recognition of transgressions. Repentance also includes remorse and acceptance, and then recognize and correct the offensive action.

Without sounding like the street preachers of the 1960s, when you understand the process that has been created for us, the us who believe in Heaven and hell, who believe in God, a merciful God, we see it is possible to “repent and be saved,” and the Pope’s desire to see an empty hell is possible. It is improbable because there are too many people who believe themselves to be the center of all creation.

Likewise, it will be forever impossible if we never release our petty desires to always be right and if we can’t be right, do all we can to prove someone else wrong. It we can’t do that, we don’t have to worry about hell being empty. We will find ourselves already there.


You cannot make anybody like you, but you can make a place where they might. Read our take on how being honest, available, and caring can maintain healthy relationships in the most recent Uplift If You Insist.


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A tale of two speeches

It was the best of speeches, it was the worst of speech…no, I’ll leave that cliché alone today. It was a good speech, or presentation if you will. But it ended up with an unexpected twist when I was mingling with some of those still around as we wrapped up the evening.

Over the last few weeks there have been a number of things to remind me that people, whether they expect it or not, react differently to the same stimulus. I’d say I’ve read 4 or 5 blog posts, one journal article, an online article, and even had a discussion with my daughter after a retreat she had last week about it, so I certainly should have expected it. People see things differently. Nothing wrong with that.

The program I had just finished was one I’d written similarly here if you want to get the gist of what I had said that evening. The intro was different. I had couched the events comparing miracles to long shots, using the current billion dollar MegaMillion jackpot as the definition of long shot. I started with “Yes, I bought my ticket. Oh I know the odds are astronomical but I’ve faced longer odds than that and won. On, no. Not a cash jackpot. I hit it big in the miracle lottery!” and from there described my journey from secular “guy grabbing with both hands” to true believer in the power of prayer and that miracles do happen (although it is our job to figure out why), in four brushes with death over a span 20 years.

As usual, the after-crowd included those stopping by to say things like “You’re so brave to tell your story like that.” (Not really, it’s not like the audience was made up of grizzly bears, just other people). “Wow, so inspiring!” (Thank you.) “Did you ever just want to give up?” (Hmm, no, I never did even though I knew things were going to be different no matter how they turned out.) And “I want to thank you for talking about prayer here, here, not in a church. I just discovered a few months ago what I was missing. Faith. Believing in something. You don’t see that out in public. It meant a lot to me to see you put your faith out there for everyone to see.” (Wow. That’s the one I didn’t expect.)

I expected to give an inspirational speech, one saying that you are never alone, you ask for help from whom you know will stand by you wherever you find your helpers. He heard a motivational speech, one that told him that you can be the person you are meant to be no matter where and with whom you are.

Two speeches out of one set of words? Maybe four speeches: one of strength, one of hope, one of inspiration, one of motivation. In truth, one speech for everyone present plus one for me. Everyone hearing the same words and taking from it what they need to hear, what their mind, soul, spirit, or heart wants to take from it. For me, whatever I need at the moment: confirmation, validation, acceptance, fulfilling a promise. I’ve often said you write for yourself and you speak for yourself. What your reader or listener hears are more than the words, but the message they need at the moment.

Yes, it was the best of speeches, and we’ll leave it at that.


Not getting everything out of everything you’re working on? Maybe you’re trying too hard. If you try to give 110% you will always end up at least 10% short. Try easy and surprise yourself when you exceed expectations! We explain our logic in the latest Uplift! Spend 3 minutes and see what we’re talking about.


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What Do You Think?

For the last two weeks I’ve been torturing myself. It started innocently enough with me making a shot of espresso. No, the espresso isn’t torturing me. I don’t make the best espresso but I’ve yet to poison myself or do permanent damage to my remaining insides. No that wasn’t it. What it was was the label. It taunted me into thinking in Italian. Or rather, trying to think in Italian.

I’ve heard the true mark of fluency is thinking the language you are speaking. Thinking in your native language, transposing to the interpreted language, then speaking (or hearing in the interpreted language, transposing, then understanding) works, but you miss the nuances that make any language magical. In its language of course. Now this is all theoretical because I haven’t thought in Italian in well over 50 years. And frankly, back then I wasn’t so good at it. Back then I wasn’t so good thinking in English!

So why the sudden thought to think in some language other than that in which over 100% of my conversations occur? (For the math wizards, I’m including those conversations in dreams.) It was that darn label. Medaglia d’Oro. All together now, Gold Medal. Even those without a non-food Italian word in their vocabulary can think that one through, with or without mental transpositioning. Clearly it’s all the general anesthesia I’ve been given lately that convinced me I could speak Italian again.

Okay, “again” is relative. The last time I really knew as sure as I could what people were saying when they were saying it in that language was 1963. ish. That’s when my grandma, my mother’s mother, the last of the nonne e nonni, passed away. And with her passed the custom of speaking Italian in the house but only English outside. Which was really good advice for even though the little town I grew up in was heavily populated with first generation Italians, the were from a variety of villages from 3 separate regions, each with its own dialect that could be almost as foreign as English. Thus English was the natural language to speak outside the home (imagine that) but Italian was fine for family conversations. As my generation entered school, English became the full time language taking a break only at large family gatherings on Sundays and holidays.

About 10 years ago I had a grand idea of refreshing my familial language and enrolled in “Italians for Tourists” at the local community college. It seemed to fit since there was also the possibility of a Mediterranean wine cruise and I thought it might be nice to be able to understand what was going on in at least one country’s vineyards. Well, that was a waste of $37!

With that failed experiment on my language resume it’s no wonder the last two weeks have been torture. I’ve finally come to realize that linguistic thinking, like playing nice with others, is learned easily in our youths but fades quickly when not in constant use. I think I’ll stop trying to think in Italian. And I’ll think it in English!

As for playing nice with others. That’s something I can keep working on in any language.

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