I remember being a little boy and lying awake at night, terribly disturbed by the idea of Heaven and Hell. Something didn’t quite make sense, and I had to figure out what that was. Yes, I was born and raised Catholic, and we went to Mass on Sundays. I recall the feeling of dread every week as Sunday came closer. I also remember feeling very uncomfortable sitting on that hard pew, staring at the figure of a man hanging from a wooden cross with big nails in his hands and feet. How awful. I tried to stay with it and listen to a man in black robes talking about things I did not understand. Honestly, I couldn’t wait for it to be over. As I progressed into my teen years, I decided I didn’t want to continue with the unpleasant experience of going to church, so I stopped going.