Someone might have thought that my reflections on paradise and hell (which you can find by following this link) are blasphemous, or perhaps utter nonsense: completely unfounded foolishness.
Objection, Your Honor. To clear up any sort of misunderstanding, I call none other than the Bible to testify, yes, that very book in flesh and bone, or rather, in paper and ink.
Like all great literature, the Book of Genesis opens "in media res," with God—all alone for who knows how long, suffocated by boredom—falling prey to a compulsive creationism, which sets the history of the world in motion.
The world itself, however, being so inanimate, doesn't save Him from tedium. So, using recycled materials, just like any smart kid does to cure that annoying state of mind, He builds Himself a little toy: man. Then He plants the Garden of Eden and drops him right in.
Man, however, is a bit like me; he would have preferred to be born in hell, where he surely would have had a blast. Instead, he finds himself in that wonderful place that looks a bit like Switzerland or Singapore: he stands there dazed for a few moments, admiring its splendor, but when the "wow" effect wears off, he starts getting seriously bored out of his mind.
God, who has few rivals in the world when it comes to empathy—partly because He is the only one in the world—notices this: as you may recall, He had gone through the exact same thing shortly before. So He creates animals for him, but the trick turns out to be a total flop: man plays with them briefly and then grows tired of them.
God then tries again by generating woman. This trick, in its own way, also has to do with a hole, but it is certainly not a flop. And this time, man approves. The woman sparks his curiosity and tempts him to break the prohibition against eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge. The two rascals, taking a cue from the advice of a supposed talking snake, eat the symbolic apple, thus setting off down the fantastic epistemological path that we have never abandoned since. The touchy guy, however, discovers them, flies into a rage, and banishes them to the underworld.
So, to sum up: in paradise everyone tends to get bored to death, landlord included. As soon as they try to entertain themselves a little—screwing, snooping around, raising doubts, and asking uncomfortable questions—they are invited to head down to hell, which is evidently a place much better suited to that kind of activity.
Now, taking into consideration this source above any possible suspicion, you tell me, Esteemed Members of this Most Illustrious Jury: when I stated that hell would be a more interesting place than paradise, where was I wrong?
You can read the entire "Amen" saga by following this link.
This post was machine-translated from Italian.
