“Will Donald Trump get into heaven?” I know this is a question weighing heavily on your mind right now. The current president of the United States is 79 years old, so we don’t have much time left to sort this one out. Trump clearly has eternity at the top of his agenda, having spoken on at least two occasions about what happens when we die. He called into a radio program called the Todd Starnes Show, which is a thing people listen to when the internet is out on their block. He waxed on about his military deployment in Washington DC, but also about the possible system that decides the fate of your everlasting soul. “There has to be some kind of a report card up there someplace, y’know, like: ‘Let’s go to heaven, let’s get into heaven.’ It’s sort of a beautiful thing,” he said to Starnes. He’s probably hoping they grade on a curve.
On Fox News, Trump expressed serious doubt he’s going to get called up to the big leagues of life after death. “I want to try and get to heaven if possible. I’m hearing I’m not doing well. I’m really at the bottom of the totem pole.” I don’t know who he’s hearing this from. Is there a Quinnipiac poll I haven’t read? Has Steve Kornacki weighed in from the MSNBC (sorry, MS Now) big board?
Unfortunately, the choice is out of my hands. The afterlife is not exactly a democracy. According to the Catholic church, only God himself can cast a ballot. Even St Peter doesn’t get a say, though I was told that’s because he always forgets to bring his driver’s license to the polling place. If things get dicey for the president, he can always sue. The supreme court is open to hearing his arguments.
It’s understandable that the man is publicly pondering the results of his nearly eight decades of acting almost exclusively in his own best interest, as a real estate mogul, reality TV star, WWE Hall of Famer, steak salesman, McDonald’s aficionado, and Cats enthusiast. The latter should be enough to get him booted downstairs, but again, I don’t get to decide. Bad taste is not disqualifying in the eyes of the Lord, which is why I’m positive Ed Hardy and Damien Hirst still have a shot at it.
Deep down, even the most hardened atheist probably hopes that heaven exists, that there’s a punter’s chance we can frolic in the clouds wearing resplendent robes and play the harp all day. The alternatives – a fiery nightmare or the yawning void of nothing – aren’t so pleasant.
I’m more than a few years the president’s junior, so I hopefully have a bit longer before I get the answer to the ultimate question, but it’s never too early to plan for the future. I also want to get into heaven, but I don’t have a clue how to go about doing it. So I did what any sensible human being would do when faced with a test they didn’t study for.
I asked ChatGPT.
As soon as I asked, my computer fan went into overdrive. The battery also started emitting a toxic stench that not only repelled my dog, but also caused my neighbors to break down my door to make sure I wasn’t quietly decaying in my living room.
After the smell died down, I got back to work. ChatGPT squirted out a brief summary of all the major religions’ stances on heavenly prerequisites. Besides the obvious ones, such as faith in God, the to-dos read suspiciously like a college application. You need to do charity work, study and donate a million dollars to the alumni foundation. Easy stuff.
ChatGPT wrapped up with some final “thoughts” on the matter, which didn’t much clarify the practical steps necessary to earn the all-you-can-eat buffet in the sky.
“In many traditions, the emphasis isn’t just on ‘getting into heaven,’ but on living a life of compassion, integrity, and faith. While paths differ, a common thread in many religions is the importance of love, kindness, and striving to become the best version of oneself.”
I guess I’ll do my best, but I can count at least five times where I didn’t let everyone exit the elevator before I got on or forgot to send a gift to a newlywed couple. I might be screwed. And if I’m screwed, how will Trump fare? In this moment of pessimism for our dear leader, I figured I should follow in his footsteps, ignore evidence I don’t want to hear and find a more sympathetic source.
The Billy Graham Evangelistic Association has a helpful article entitled “How Can I Know for Sure I’ll Go to Heaven?” Almost immediately, I was comforted. Graham is quoted as saying: “Your salvation depends on what [Christ] has done for you, not on what you do for Him. It isn’t your hold on God that saves you; it’s His hold on you.”
I’ve seen enough. I’m pretty sure I understand all I need to know about saving myself from the cursed lash of the dark lord Lucifer. I don’t have to do anything. Full stop. Instead of thinking about how I behave, how I treat others, or what heavy responsibility I must carry in the corporeal world, I just need to check in to see how many goodies God has sent my way so far. Just like being a child, you know if your parents love you based on how many toys they purchase and how expensive they are. I drive an Audi, so I think I’m probably on the nice list.
The article continues: “You can be a loving person, a good person, and even volunteer of the year, but it’ll never be good enough.” Perfect. I don’t even volunteer to help with my son’s homework, I’m riddled with credit card debt and take far too long to clip my toenails. Doesn’t sound like I need to try any harder than “pays the absolute minimum monthly amount” and “trims directly on to the floor of the bathroom, which my girlfriend has repeatedly asked me to not do”.
If we’re to use Billy Graham’s words as a guide, Donald Trump is going to make it upstairs. The only real requirement is that you have to have a personal relationship with God. He has a lot of money, which means God loves him. Eternity, like business, is all about networking. And who’s a better networker than Donald J Trump? Even if Trump doesn’t have God’s personal cellphone number, I’m sure he can ask his friends at the FBI to find it.
Dave Schilling is a Los Angeles-based writer and humorist
