by Wid Bastian
“But I remain hopeful. Pray for the Pope, Peter. He is a good man, perhaps too timid, but a good man.”
“I will pray for him, Bishop.”
“At least the Pope still has some sense,” Reverend Peterson grumbled loud enough for all to hear.
“Be assured of this much, Peter,” Cardinal Reardon said, knowing that his allotted time had nearly run out, “groups of Bishops and large numbers of Roman Catholic laity are already with you. We Catholics are not united, not yet, but I believe in time the church will validate the miracles I have seen and fully endorse your efforts.”
“Dr. Simms, your time begins now.” With Peterson subdued, Doris Spence was her placid self once again.
Howard Simms was born to be a deep thinker, to use his mind to unravel the intricate secrets of nature. For as long as he could remember, the world, how it worked, and everything in it, had fascinated him. While the other kids in his small town Michigan neighborhood were out playing ball, Howard stayed in and built complex machines with his Erector Sets, or took it upon himself to dissect a frog or to read about Darwin or Einstein or Skinner until his eyes hurt.
He completed a doctorate program in Anthropology by age twenty and added a second PhD in Astrophysics by twenty-three. Thirty plus years had passed since these academic accomplishments, but Dr. Simms’ childlike curiosity about his universe was undiminished by the passage of time.
Like many leaders of science, Simms did not formally practice any religion, but he definitely believed in God. The structured beauty of nature convinced Howard from an early age that the world was designed, not random. Howard Simms had always found bombastic men of the cloth like Thomas Peterson to be repulsive embarrassments, unworthy of his time or attention. But the gentle nature and subtle self-confidence of Cardinal Reardon instinctively captured him, reminding Howard that there was a good reason why he was not an atheist.
Though a deist, Howard Simms lacked faith. His greatest strength, pure objectivity, limited his intellectual options. Simms’ lack of faith kept him from seeing beyond creation to the Creator, but he was an honest man who loved life and looked down upon no one. For someone blessed with great intelligence, he was extraordinarily humble.
“Mr. Carson,” Simms began, “I’d like to … ”
“It’s Peter, sir, not Mr. Carson. Mr. Carson was my father.”
“Certainly. Peter. Right. I’ve taken the liberty over the past twenty-four hours to detail the effects of this restriction of yours. A most interesting task. Have you been made aware of all of its ramifications, its various nuances?”
“I don’t believe I have, Dr. Simms. Please, let me know what you have discovered.”
“Yes, well. First of all, the restriction does not apply to animals, non-human animals that is. Violence toward them, among them, and from them continues, but most interestingly, seems to be reduced to a significant degree by the current event.”
“The current event, Doctor?”
“Sorry. The restriction is the ‘current event’ in my lexicon.” Simms stopped, rubbed the stubby grey whiskers on his chin, and then continued. “Forgive me, Peter. I can speak English. In this context, scientific jargon is simply needless blather.”
“Accidents, violent ones, are still happening, Peter. Two cars collide, passengers are hurt, maimed, killed. People still fall down the stairs, curiously enough even when they are accidentally bumped by someone else.
“Our sporting activities continue on except for the martial arts. For instance, American football is still being played with all of its violent collisions. Of course, there are no after play fights, although tempers are not diminished.”
“Many violent games, video games in particular, cannot be played. Some films will not show, but others with plenty of violent content are seemingly unaffected.”
“I could go on for days, Peter, indeed I plan to record as much as possible about the restriction before it ends so that I might study it thoroughly, but the bottom line, as my business associates like to say, is that our behavior, and to a degree our stimuli, are being edited and controlled by some unseen force. To deny this is to deny reality. With all due respect to the good Reverend Peterson, the restriction is not some illusion or planet-wide hypnotic trick. It is a real event, one that can be detailed, catalogued, and studied.”
“That’s beautiful, Dr. Simms,” Peter complimented.
“Beautiful?”
“Your description of God’s works, His restriction. That was beautiful. From the vantage point of science no doubt you will be able to glean insights and provide a depth of meaning unavailable to other observers.”
“So you’re interested in applying a scientific method to the current ev. ., oh crap, so sorry, to the restriction?”
“For sure. God’s speed, brother. We need your input and analysis. Science is every bit as much the Lord’s work as is theology.”
“That is an odd statement coming from a theologian, Peter,” Simms said, suddenly sporting a tentative smile, “but a very welcome and interesting one.”
“Dr. Simms, God gives us all sorts of tools to understand our world, His creation. How can knowledge gained through science be in any way ungodly, since it is by His will and His grace that we have curious minds, the ability to process information, and the desire to experiment?”
“Well said, sir. I admit to being both surprised and impressed by your attitudes.”
“That is understandable. For too long a barrier, put there by the evil one, has created a rift between science and theology. Most of the problem comes from misunderstanding the Scriptures, greed, and pride.”
“Please, Peter. Continue on this line of thinking.”
“Alright. From the aspect of theology, misguided religious leaders have considered science a threat to God. From Copernicus and Galileo to Darwin and Einstein there has been this tension, this struggle for power between science and theology. It’s nonsense for the most part.”
“The Bible is not a science text. For one thing, God is above all physical laws, since He created them. For another, the Bible is a spiritual work. It deals with the meaning of life, our purpose in the universe, and our duties to each other and to God. Jesus did not come to the world to give us scientific knowledge; He came to show us how to use our gifts and blessings for the betterment of His creation. All knowledge comes from God, Doctor Simms.”
“Until a couple of days ago, Peter, I would have been very skeptical about your theory that God is above all physical laws.”
“But now, Dr. Simms?”
“I admit the very distinct possibility that an all powerful God is directly manipulating physical events. To deny that would be dishonest and foolish.”
“Are you familiar with the Bible, Dr. Simms?”
“Only vaguely, Peter. My apologies.”
“Permit me to quote a scripture for you. It’s from the New Testament, the book of Colossians, chapter two, verse eight. It reads, ‘Beware lest anyone cheat you through philosophy and empty deceit, according to the tradition of men, according to the basic principles of the world, and not according to Christ.
“What St. Paul said to the church at Colossae is the same thing I’m saying to you. Christ transcends all things, the institutions of man such as our government, enterprises, and technology, and also the “basic principles of the world,” subjects like chemistry, biology, astronomy, and physics, which you scientists study and explain to us. As Christians we should not deny the ‘basic principles of the world’ for they were set by God. Science should not deny that God transcends these principles, that He reigns over all and is the ultimate source of everything our minds perceive.”
“Your construct is not new, Peter, but now, given what we are all experiencing, a greater … ”
“Mr. Harwell,” Doris Spence broke in without apology, “your time begins now, sir.”
“Oh my, that’s too bad. I was really getting into that discussion,” Tim Austin said.
“Me too,” Enri
que Vargas agreed. “Peter didn’t flinch, did he? I had no idea he’s so well versed in science.”
“Neither did he, I’m sure,” Kenny told his brothers. “The Spirit is moving through him, he’s on autopilot.”
“Peter, I consider it a great honor and privilege to be part of this panel. More than anything else, I suppose I was invited to plead for God’s mercy on behalf of all of the world’s crass capitalist pigs.” Sam Harwell was famous for his self-deprecating humor and smart-aleck retorts.
“I’ve used your products for almost twenty years, Mr. Harwell. Harsoft has helped millions of people lead more productive lives. Your reputation for philanthropy is also well known. I’m sure that you are not a pig in any sense of the word.”
“That’s very kind of you, Peter, but probably not altogether true. I’m trying to confess here! Don’t you Christian folk say that confession is good for the soul?”
“It is and we do.”
“I am quite proud of Harsoft, Peter. On the whole, I believe we have been a positive force for humanity. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t stepped on more than a few toes on the road to success, cut some corners, acted ruthlessly, and maybe even broken a few laws. If I’m for sure going to hell, just stop me at any time and I’ll slip off into my eternal doom quietly.”
“Let’s hold off on any judgments, Mr. Harwell. I think you might be making some progress toward your salvation.” Peter was happy to play along with the less serious, tongue in cheek teasing.
“My question is, do the ends ever justify the means? If I do eight good things and two bad things and the net result of my efforts is one great big good thing, have I sinned?
“Let me be even more specific, Peter. In business, men and women like me have to make tough decisions daily. Sometimes it’s a choice between the lesser of two evils. Modern capitalism, by its very nature, can be ruthless on its losers. Yet communism, state controlled anything, is far worse for everyone. Help me out here, Peter. You see where I’m going with this, don’t you?”
Yes and no, Peter thought to himself. Harwell appeared to be seeking some form of absolution or excuse for his sin, but his question was profound and certainly could not be dodged.
“I will answer your question as best as I can, Mr. Harwell. First of all, are you so sure that it was necessary to do the bad things you did in order to ultimately succeed? Is it possible that you succeeded in spite of your sin?”
“At the time I can assure you, Peter, that every move I made was well-considered. Who knows what would have happened if I’d gone left instead of right to spare an economic injury to someone else.”
“I do not believe, Mr. Harwell, that sin is required to be a success in business. That said, none of us is blameless before God. You know why I was sent to prison, Mr. Harwell, don’t you?”
“Theft and embezzlement, if what I’ve been told is true.”
“Oh, it’s true, Mr. Harwell. I wasn’t trying to create a new product or out compete a rival, I just wanted money. I have no excuse for what I did, but God has forgiven me for my mistakes. I no longer own them, to the Lord it is as if they never happened.”
“So you’re saying if my goal was legitimate I have an excuse?”
“Mr. Harwell, consider this. Christ makes it clear that it is a sin to kill. From the Ten Commandments to the Sermon on the Mount, God is consistent; He says we are to love our brothers and sisters as we love ourselves. Killing another human being is the ultimate form of hatred, evil, and ungodliness. What right have I to end the life God gave to another?”
“I detect a but coming on the horizon.”
“But Mr. Harwell, what if the world hadn’t stopped Hitler? What if the Jews had perished from the earth before it was Christ’s time to appear as one of them?”
“So you’re saying … ”
“We must seek forgiveness for our sins, Mr. Harwell. Obviously, you know you’ve done some wrong on your journey of worldly success. Seek Christ, accept Him as your Savior, ask for His forgiveness. Atone for your sins as the Spirit leads you.”
“You mean go back and find people I wronged twenty years ago, apologize to them, and compensate them?”
“What a marvelous example that would be to the world wouldn’t it, Mr. Harwell? If you humbled yourself, others might follow your lead.”
“I’m still not sure that you’ve answered my question.”
“Christ is an absolute, Mr. Harwell, a mysterious and perfect combination of God and man. We are mortal beings, inherently flawed. In order to be righteous, to be in right standing with God, we must seek forgiveness and strive with our free will not to repeat our mistakes.”
“Now I know better, that’s what you’re saying?”
“I’m sure that you knew better then too, Mr. Harwell. God is your judge, not me. I can only tell you how His word answers your question.”
“Profit is not evil, is it Peter?”
“No, at least I do not believe that it is. To fail to use the wealth God gives you for the betterment of others, that is most certainly a sin.”
“How much should I give? And to whom? I’ve never given a dime to a church, does that mean my gifts are … ”
“Thank you, Mr. Harwell. Rabbi Rosefielde, your time starts now.”
“She’s really beginning to annoy me,” Larry moaned. “I believe Miss Spence is enjoying her referee duties a bit too much.”
“She may not be real warm and fuzzy, brother,” Kenny said, “but I understand the need for what she’s doing.”
“Peter, good evening.”
“Good evening, Rabbi. Shalom.”
“Shalom. I have so much to ask you, my friend, but there is so little time.” Like Cardinal Reardon, Rabbi David Rosefielde was a humble man, honest and completely uninterested in pretense.
“Perhaps soon we can talk, you and me, privately and at length.”
“I look forward to that, Peter. Of all of the questions I have one issue strikes me as being most important. If the world is to believe you, people must accept the concept of a reality greater than their senses, the existence of a Force of Uncreated Energy we label God.”
“Yes, Rabbi. For less advanced societies acceptance through faith of the nature of God was easier, but today we suffer from excessive hubris, we believe man is all powerful, and we worship God’s creation and ignore Him.”
“I agree. Perhaps an important lesson of the restriction is to teach us that God is not only real, but also that He is omnipotent.”
“As I see it, Rabbi, you are exactly right. God wants us to quit our violent ways, that is His message, but remember Christ’s first commandment to us is that we are to love the Lord with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind. We are being blessed by a direct application of His power, this astounding restriction. We should respect the miracle with thanksgiving and obedience.”
“Peter, what happens when the restriction ends? Like all miracles, the passage of time diminishes their impact. What else can we do to leave a lasting impression, if you will, of the true nature of the universe?”
What a spectacular question, Peter thought, so astute. To Peter the existence of God and the unseen spiritual dimension was a given, but not so to a skeptical world.
A direct answer to the Rabbi’s question then presented itself.
“Good Lord!” Doris Spence shrieked. “How did that man get in here?”
Standing behind Peter, literally appearing out of nowhere was a man, about thirty, with light brown, curly hair. His white robe seemed to be emitting rather than reflecting light, his skin was a radiant bronze and his eyes sparkled like bright blue bolts of liquid flame.
“My name is Gabriel,” the angel said, “and I am here to speak for the Lord.”
Twenty-Five
“You getting all this, Chuck? Status, I need status.” The Executive Director was unnerved, along with everyone else involved with the broadcast, but he was professional enough not to lose sight of his duties in the midst of a crisis.
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“Copy that. Everything appears nominal. Transmission nominal, audio nominal, tape … hey, what the hell?”
“Chuck, talk to me, Chucky.”
“Ah, transmission nominal, recording malfunctioning. Tape check shows new subject Gabriel not, well he’s not coming through on tape. No image, no audio. All other systems nominal.”
“Repeat that.” The Executive Director heard what was said, but it made no sense, so it didn’t register.
“This Gabriel character’s image and voice is being transmitted live but, as far as we can tell, isn’t being recorded.”
“Chuck, I mean come on man that’s nuts.”
“Like any of the rest of this makes sense. Suggest we move on, keep monitoring.”
“Mommy, that’s my angel!” Kevin said, pointing at the screen. “What’s he doing on the TV with daddy?”
“I’m sure that he’s helping your father, Kev. That’s a good thing.”
“I guess so, mom. I’m gonna pray the angel brings daddy home.”
“I’ll join you in that prayer, son.”
A few seconds after Gabriel appeared, four Secret Service agents rushed on to the stage. They were powerless to attack or otherwise subdue the intruder, but they surrounded the President and started shouting orders that the panel should disperse. Immediately.
But no one moved. An indecisive moment that felt like an hour passed by. The audience offered only a dull murmur, they all kept their seats.
“Please, I assure you that there is nothing to be frightened of,” the President said, as he stood and moved away from his panicked security detail. “I know this man. Well, he’s not a man, but I know him.”
“Yes, please, you have no idea how blessed you are to be here tonight.” Peter followed the President’s lead. “This is the Archangel Gabriel. He is a holy messenger. No one in this room has anything to fear from him.”
“Bravo, bravo,” Thomas Peterson said, as he stood and mockingly applauded. “Best show I’ve seen in years, Carson. Last time I saw a trick that slick was in Vegas when a couple of homosexuals in tights made an elephant disappear.”