Sayaad Bacchus
Mrs. Simms
ENG 4UI
25 September 2013
Only Good People Go to Heaven “Only the believers, only the righteous brothers and sisters, will go to heaven. The non-believers, those who choose to sin, will be damned”, said the Imam. I was five years old, sitting on the floor next to my grandfather in a hot and crowded mosque on some Friday in July. Oh, and by “non-believers”, the Imam was referring to individuals who were not Muslim. That very belief, that ideology, was one of the first things I learned as a child. As I look back on my life I can clearly see how much my views have changed since I was that little boy. Like the Imam, I now believe that only good people go to heaven. Although now, I see that good people aren’t always religious ones. From the time I could read, my very loving and religious grandfather preached the religion of Islam to me. When I went to the mosque, the Imam preached to me. When I was at home, my mother preached to me. No matter who it was, it was the same lecture, and I believed every word. I was told that only good people were Muslim and because of that, I was of higher value then people of other religions. I was told all the folktales, stories and prophecies, not doubting the truth of them for a second. I was told being a faithful Muslim was the greatest honour I could ever achieve in my life. I absorbed all this, and all these ideas I had as a little boy became my little world. Everything was black and white, set in stone, and simple. There were no gray areas, no blurred lines. There was one idea I was told however, that gave purpose to the other things I was told. I was told of these two places, heaven and hell. Heaven was where all the “good”, or Muslim, people go when they die. I was told it was beautiful beyond my imagination and anything I ever wanted I could have there. I was told it was perfect and I would live there forever. All I had to do to get there, was be a good Muslim. If I wasn’t, then I would go to this place called hell, which wasn’t so nice. It was the complete opposite of heaven. It was the most agonizing, tormenting and punishing place anyone could ever imagine and it was filled with the “bad” people. So the choice was obvious to me, be a good Muslim. Aside from suffering unimaginably, I wanted to be a faithful Muslim because I wanted to be good. It was my inclination to be considered a good person in society. When I was little, my friends and I would act out scenarios from our favourite superhero comic books. I always refused to play the villain. I was always the good guy and always wanted to be. Life seemed so clear to me as a child, good and bad was as visible to me as night and day. Everything was clear, until I started growing. Everything was clear, until I started to hear and understand what was happening in the world around me. I was becoming smarter, more logical, and more curious. It was at this stage in my life where my paradigm started to shift. My views towards religion were eroding and the ideas that were so heavily instilled in me weren’t making sense anymore. I started to see things that confused me and that contradicted what I thought to be absolute truths. Suddenly, things weren’t black and white anymore. The gray areas began to appear. Why was religion the cause of so many wars and barriers? I thought religion was supposed to promote peace and unity. Why were religious people doing bad things? I heard of Priests who molested children and who were involved in sex scandals. Religious leaders were leading terrorist organizations and killing innocent people. Why were churches and mosques built so big, but failed to feed the poor? Religious people in my family were caught gambling, which is strictly prohibited in Islam. Everything I was seeing was confusing me and I was scared of uncertainty. My ideas of religious people were starting to fade, and so were my ideas of the non-religious too. When I was turned 12 and this