An old man goes to the synagogue and prays, every day, thusly: “God, let me win the lottery. Please, just one big win. I’ll give money to the poor, and live a righteous life. . . . Please, let me win the lottery!”
For years, he comes to the synagogue, and the same prayer goes up: “Let me win the lottery! Please, Lord, won’t you show your grace, and let me win the lottery!”
Finally, one day, after fifteen years of this, as the man mutters, “The lottery, Lord, let me win the lottery. . . ,” a golden light suffuses the sanctuary, and a chorus of angels singing a major C chord is heard. The man looks up, tears in his blinded eyes, and says, “Lord . . . ?”
And a deep resonant voice rings out, “Please . . . would you please BUY A TICKET already?”
A kindly old man died peacefully and found himself resurrected in the middle of a country road. And behold! Running toward him was his favorite dog! He knelt and embraced his long lost pet in tearful reunion. After some time, the dog seemed anxious to walk the road in what seemed to be the direction of the rising sun. The man followed.
Before long, they came to a fence of wrought gold, with pearly gates, behind which there stood mansion upon mansion. The gatekeeper, a tall man in flowing white robes, greeted the man, and welcomed him to enter.
"But what exactly is this place?" said the man, who had been a lifelong agnostic.
"This," said the gatekeeper, is Heaven. But there are no dogs allowed. So you'll have to leave your dog outside. We have a strict no-pets policy."
The man stood in confusion for some moments. His face became grim. "No thanks," he said. "I'll take my chances with my dog."
For a long time, the man and his dog wandered down the road. At last they came to an unpretentious farming community with no fences or gates of any kind. What appeared to be a contented old farmer was sitting on a stool next to an old-fashioned hand operated water pump. The dog ran up to the farmer, who petted him, and gave him some water.
"Where is this place?" asked the man.
"This is Heaven," answered the farmer. "It's all around you. You've been in it, or at least the outskirts of it ever since you died."
"But that fellow back yonder behind the pearly gates said that place was Heaven." replied the man.
"Nah, that's Hell," replied the farmer. "We leave the entrance there to weed out the hypocrites who'd leave their best friend behind."
