Boy Raised from the Dead by St. John Bosco
A fifteen year old boy in Turin was about to die. He called for Don Bosco, but the saint was not able to make it in time. Another priest heard the boy’s confession and the boy died. When Don Bosco returned to Turin, he set out at once to see the boy. When told that the boy was dead, he insisted that it was “just a misunderstanding.” After a moment of prayer in the room of the dead child, Don Bosco suddenly cried out: “Charles! Rise!” To the utter amazement of all present, the boy stirred, opened his eyes, and sat up. Seeing Don Bosco, his eyes lit up.
“Father, I should now be in Hell!” gasped the boy. “Two weeks ago I was with a bad companion who led me into sin and at my last confession, I was afraid to tell everything . . . Oh, I’ve just come out of a horrible dream! I dreamt I was standing on the edge of a huge furnace surrounded by a horde of devils. They were about to throw me into the flames when a beautiful Lady appeared and stopped them. ‘There’s still hope for you, Charles,’ she told me. ‘You have not yet been judged!’ At that moment I heard you calling me. Oh, Don Bosco! What a joy to see you again! Will you please hear my confession?”
After hearing the boy’s confession, Don Bosco said to the boy, “Charles, now that the gates of Heaven lie wide open for you, would you rather go there or stay here with us?” The boy looked away for a moment and his eyes grew moist with tears. An expectant hush fell over the room. “Don Bosco”, he said at last, “I’d rather go to Heaven.” The mourners watched in amazement as Charles leaned back on the pillows, closed his eyes, and settled once more into the stillness of death.”
St. John Bosco Trip To Hell (Book, “40 Dreams of St. John Bosco”)
Encouragingly, he took my hand and bolstered me so I could continue because I was worn out. We left that room and in a short time we had retraced our steps through that horrible courtyard and the long corridor. But before crossing the last bronze portal, he turned to me and said:
“Now that you have seen the torments of others, you must experience yourself what is the suffering of Hell.”
“No, no!” I cried in horror.
He insisted, but I kept refusing.
“Do not be afraid,” he told me; “it is just a taste. Touch this wall.”
I could not muster enough courage and tried to get away, but he held me back insisting:
“No matter what, it is necessary that you experience this.”
Gripping my arm firmly, he pulled me to the wall, saying:
“Touch it at least once, so that you may prove that you have visited the walls of eternal torments and you may comprehend how terrible the last wall must be if the first outer one is so unendurable. Can you see this wall?”
I looked at it carefully. It seemed incredibly thick. My guide continued:
“There are one thousand walls between this and the real fire of Hell. One thousand walls surround it. Each wall is very thick and is one thousand miles from the next one. This wall, therefore, is one million miles from Hell’s real fire. It is just a remote beginning of Hell itself.”
When he said this, I instinctively pulled back, but he seized my hand, forced it open, and pressed it against a stone on that first of the thousand walls. The burning was so intense and excruciating that I leaped back with a scream and I woke up.
I found myself sitting on my bed, my hand was stinging and I kept rubbing it to ease the pain. As daylight came, I noticed that it was actually swollen. That dream and the impression of that fire had affected me so much that the skin of my palm had peeled off.
Bear in mind that I have not told you things in their most horrible cruelty in order not to cause you too much terror. We know that Our Lord always portrayed Hell in symbols because, had He described it as it really is, we could not understand. No mortal can comprehend these things. Our Lord knows them and He reveals them to those He chooses.
The original author of this blog passed away in July of 2016. RIP Father Carota.