Dreams and Visions of Saint John Bosco: H E L L
Introduction: Many 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. 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. 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)
Vision of Hell On 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 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
their, 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, full into temptation, and 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
cornmanded, "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.