SHOUTS & MURMURS HEAVENLY BY PAUL RUDNICK he best-selling book “Heaven Is for Real: A Little Boy’s Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back’ tells the tale of four-year-old Colton Burpo, who, after losing consciousness during surgery, travels to Heaven, When he awakes he re- ports everything hes seen to his dad, Todd, a Nebraska pastor, who then co-authors a book about this real-life miracle Like alot of people, I thought at fist that this was just a money-grubbing hoax, until the same thing happened to me, Kent Kim- ‘melman, an entertainment ayer. Teall started when Twas doing hot ‘yoga and the woman next to me fainted ‘while trying to hold the downward-dog pose. She fell over on me and broke my ‘wrist, and though the doctor who was set- ting it offered to use a local anesthetic, I demanded a general. While I was out, the doctor later told me, I stopped breathing, for almost a fall minute, something that usually happens only when my gilitiend is choking me during sex. While I was out, at first all T saw-was a blinding whiteness, so 1 assumed that I ‘was either dead or at the next Republican Convention, But then I heard the most impossibly beautfial wordless melody, as if Mariah Carey were giving birth to an even better singer. Then I heard my aunt Ritals voice saying, “So, Kent, we've been waiting,” and I was puzzled, because my aunt Rita died three years ago, during a botched neck-lift, which necessitated a turtleneck sweater for the open coffin. But when I heard Aunt Rita's voice and smelled her cheap Estée Lauder- knockoff perfume (she used to say, “Estée is gone, so she doesn't need my money"), I thought, Am I in Heaven? I looked down and saw that all I was wearing were the cleanest underpants Pd ever owned, and then | saw Aunt Rita wafting toward ‘me, and she said, “So, welcome to Heaven. You might think about a robe.” Right now, you're probably wonder- ing, What did Heaven look like? Well, picture soaring golden columns amid fluffy white clouds—and, as Aunt Rita said, “This sjust the foyer.” As Aunt Rita guided me I saw clusters of serene, glow- ing people, all sprouting glorious feath- ered wings. “So, is Jesus up here?" L asked. “And Allah and Vishnu and Zeus and younameit,” Aunt Rita replied, “Al- though none of them ever talk to each rr J other; they're all very ‘Let’ just agree to disagree.’ But whenever God shows up, Tim telling you, it like musical chairs. Ev- exyone'sall, Excuse me, but I believe that God was speaking to me?” “So, there is 1 God?” T asked. “You betcha,” Aunt Rita said, “al- though He's all about a three-day work- week. Itexplainsa lot. I'm not begrudging Him anything, but there's alot of napping and downtime and Candy Crush. Would you lke to meet Him?” “Yes!” I said, as Aunt Rita brushed the hair out of my eyes and elbowed me so Td stand up straight. Then she took my hand and led me into this enormous throne room, filled with bobbing cherubs and bowls of M&eM's with the word “God” printed on them. God wasn't seated on His golden throne, and instead was sprawled on the nearby marble steps, checking His phone. “Look at this!” God said. “It’s a cat hugging another cat! Isn't that cute? I made those cats!” ‘As I watched, God kept changing, from a tall, white-haired, bearded man into a dignified young Asian woman and then into an African-American teen-ager and more; itwas ike & PBS promo. “Ilike to mixit up,” He told me, although at that moment He was a female Venezuelan ivarf. “What do you think” She asked. “Tm going for Latina Frodo.” “Un, itso nie to meet you, "Isai. “I use your name all the time.” “Not in vain, I hope!” He chuckled, as He became a floating mass of dazzling, pulsating crystals. “Look at me—now Pm chandelier that sounds like Morgan Free- ‘man! I'm kidding! Although would you ike to know something? Every time a human being says God damn this or God damn that, I actualy have to think about it. [m, Tike, O.K., do you really want me to damn that mud puddle, or that table leg you just stubbed your toe on, forall etemity? It's al- ways judgment cll, expecially when peo- pple are talking about Putin or Arizons.” "That was when I felt myself starting to get pulled away, and God, who was now sutransgender Inuit, told me, “Oops! Sorry about that! You're not dead yet! You're ‘gonna have to go back! ‘This happens all the time!” “Yeah,” Aunt Rita murmured, gestur- ing to God. “Especially whenever He's getting a massage” “Rita, you just hush,” said God, who was now perfect white rose inside a Lu- cite paperweight. “Everyone makes mis- takes. Remember when I accidentally et that obnoxious four-year-old come up here, and he kept whining about whether he had to split his subsidiary rights with ‘me? So I told him, ‘You go on home and tell everybody about how nice I was, and | mean genuinely nice and not phony’ like Satan.’ And then that little boy got all excited and he asked, ‘So, can I meet Satan?) and I could tell thathe was think- ing: sequel, So I just smiled in that way I have and I said, Someday.” ‘That's when I woke up back in the hospital, surrounded by my loved ones as well as my family. My girlfriend sai “Kent, this is a miracle! We all thought ‘you were dead!” I looked around and I said, “Well, T guess that explains the pro- bate consultant” And then my best frend, Connor, who was wearing my Rolex, asked, “So, while you were technically dead, what happened? Can you remem- ber anything?” I said, “I remember all of it, because it was so beautiful and deeply personal and something I could never possibly put into words. But maybe I can hrire someone who can.” # THE NEW YORKER, AML 26, 2014 ”