Chapter 47 january heaven

January came, the calendar changed, and 2008 began.By the end of the year, the United States will elect a new president, there will be a major economic earthquake, the confidence index will drop sharply, and tens of millions of people will lose their jobs or homes.The storm clouds are gathering. All the while, the Archmage staggered from room to room, meditating silently.Having lived through the Great Depression and two world wars, he no longer fusses over headlines.By taking hold of the inner world, he keeps the outer world from being a threat.He prays.He talks to God.He stared at the snow outside the window.He also treasured the simple rituals of the day: prayer, oatmeal with flakes, grandchildren, car rides with Tyra, phone calls to old congregants.

One Sunday morning, I visited again.My parents planned to come over later and pick me up for lunch before I flew back to Detroit. On a Saturday night two weeks ago, the synagogue specially held a party for the Archmage to commemorate his sixty years of service, like a celebration banquet. Let me tell you, the archmage shook his head as he spoke, with an expression of disbelief: here are people who haven't seen each other in years.I saw them kiss and hug me and cry like old friends whom I had lost track of for many years.i literally cried.See what we've created together.It's incredible.

Incredible?Did he mean my old church?The little house that was used on Sabbath mornings and weird holidays, where the kids jumped out of the car and rushed in for their religion lessons?He said it was incredible?This word is a little too lofty.However, the Archmage folded his palms together and whispered almost as if in prayer: Mitch, don't you understand?We create a community.I look at his aging face and sagging shoulders. For sixty years, he has worked tirelessly to teach, listen to people, and strive to make us better people. Well, compared to the current direction of the world, it may be incredible that it is indeed appropriate. words.

They embraced each other like that, he added, looking into the distance: For me, that was a piece of heaven. The Archmage and I inevitably ended up talking about the afterlife.Paradise, Liberation, Valhalla, Nirvana, whatever you want to call it, almost every belief is based on an explanation of the afterlife.As his time in this world dwindled, the Archmage increasingly wondered what the so-called Olam Habah (afterlife) was all about.From his tone and posture, I realized that he was studying this matter, like when you are about to climb to the top of a mountain, you stretch your neck, hoping to see the scenery on the other side of the mountain.

I heard that the archmage's tomb is very close to his birthplace, where both his mother and father are buried.His daughter Lina is also buried there.When the time came, the three generations would be reunited, at least underground; and if what his beliefs said was true, they would be reunited elsewhere. Do you think you'll see Lina again?I asked. Yes, I believe. But she was just a child back then. On it, he whispered: Time doesn't matter. In one of his sermons, the Archmage mentioned that a man was taken to see heaven and hell.In hell, many people sit around a large table with delicacies from mountains and seas.But everyone's arms can only be stretched forward and cannot be bent, so they will never be able to eat.

Terrible.The man said: Take me to see heaven. He is taken to another room.It looks very similar to the previous room and is also a banquet table with more gourmet dishes.Here again the soul can only stretch its arms forward. The difference is that they feed each other. What do you think, I asked the Archmage.Heaven is like that? how could I know?I believe there must be something.That's enough. He ran a finger across his chin.But I admit that I am somewhat impatient to die, so that I will soon know how to answer this difficult question. don't say that. say what? about death. Why don't you say it?you will be sad

Well, I mean, no one likes to hear that word. I talk like a child. Listen, Mickey, he lowered his voice.He folded his hands, pressed against the sweater, which also contained a plaid shirt that didn't match his blue trousers at all.I know a few people will be very sad that I am gone.I know my family and those I love will miss me and I hope that includes you. I will.I will miss more than I can tell him. Heavenly Father, please.He looked up and said as if singing: I am a happy man.I helped develop a lot of things on the ground.I even did a little development on this Mickey here too He pointed at me with an old, slender finger.

But this man, you see, he's still asking questions.So, Lord, give him many, many years.That way, when I meet him again, we'll have a lot to talk about. He smiled narrowly. how? thank you, i said. You're welcome.he said. He blinks behind his glasses. Do you really think we'll meet again someday? don't you think Oh, don't be kidding, I'm pretending to be shy, I don't think I can reach your high level. Mitch, why do you say that? Because you are someone who works for God. He looked at me, relieved. You are also a person who works for God.He whispered: Everyone is.

The doorbell rang, breaking the atmosphere of the moment.I heard my parents talking to Sarah in the other room.I put my things in order.I told the Archmage that the Super Bowl was only a few weeks away.Ah, the Super Bowl.He was whispering excitedly, which was odd because I don't think he'd seen any of the games.Not long after, my mother and father came in and said hello to the Archmage.I zip up my bag.It was inconvenient for the archmage to get up from the chair, so he remained sitting. How strange, the repetition of life.The scene in front of me may have happened forty years ago. On a Sunday morning, my parents picked me up from religion class, my father drove, and we were going out to eat.The only difference is that now instead of running away after seeing the Archmage, I am unwilling to leave.

Going to lunch?he asks. yes, i said. very good.Family, that's how it should be. I hugged him.His arms wrapped around the nape of my neck, tighter than I could remember ever hugging. He finds a song. Have fun. Time is running out. It never occurred to me how right he was. ① Valhalla is the paradise of fallen soldiers in Norse mythology.