Christiana

by Jim Pappas

  Then Joseph shouted down from the apartment window, "Great-heart! You should see all these statues of naked people here in the witch's apartment!"

  "Remember your covenant, Joseph," he warned. "Look not upon them, lest you be defiled by them."

  "What then?"

  "Obey the Scriptures. Smash them!"

  So Joseph kept his soul pure by keeping his eyes above the necks of the voluptuous statues. One by one thirteen idols were beheaded and smashed into heaps of dusty rubble.

  Then James came forth from the library carrying several ancient books and reading amusedly from one of them. Shouting from the window he said, "Great-heart! The giant even has a library of joke books. Why, here is one called 'Nations Geography' that speaks of millions of years to create one little worm! Can you imagine!"

  "'Tis science - falsely so-called. Those books are the very cornerstone of Doubt. Burn them. Burn them all!"

  "What about these funny paintings of monkeys turning into men?"

  "To the flames with them!" commanded Great-heart. "Don't even look upon them. Let us return this castle to the jungle."

  So they fell hard to destroying the abominable statues, vile images, deceitful books, and all the instruments and appendages of demon worship. Then they set out to bring down the walls and towers of Doubting Castle (which was not so hard now that the cornerstones had been consigned to the flames).

  Meanwhile, down in the murky labyrinth of the dungeon, Matthew and Samuel were having a rather hard time of it. Oh, they had certainly gotten in easily enough, but there were so many levels and so many twists and turns that they began to have doubts about finding their way out again. Their spirits were also becoming oppressed by the sight and smells of so many skeletons chained to the walls.

  Down in the deepest depths they came upon three odd items lying out in the passageway: a vial with a skull and crossbones etched into it, a rope ending in a hangman's noose, and a sharp dagger. Near these was the only cell in the entire dungeon that had its rusty door hanging ajar. Cautiously entering, they found therein nothing but two neat piles of straw shaped like beds. Also they discovered two pair of leg irons lying open in the midst of the cell.

  "This is very strange, Samuel," said Matthew. "All of the other cells are locked up tight."

  "Aye," agreed Samuel. "And this is the only cell with open manacles. You don't think . . . "

  "That this might be Papa's cell?" finished Matthew. "Well, didn't we hear that Hopeful threw the instruments of death from out their cell?"

  "Yes! And they did open their leg irons with this key."

  "And the door too! Oh, if only . . . look! Over there - tucked into a corner of the straw! Isn't that a kerchief?"

  "I'll see soon enough," said Samuel, stepping over to pick it up. "Yes! And a monogrammed one at that! Bring the candle closer."

  "Whose initials does it bear?"

  "I don't know. It's so worn I can hardly . . . Gr . . .Grak . . . "

  "No! Grace. It says Grace. Grace . . . something," corrected Matthew.

  "Grace . . . Graceless! Matty! It says Graceless! This is Papa's old kerchief. That was his name before he became a pilgrim. This is his cell!"

  "Mama must have monogrammed it for him! Oh, wait till we show her!"

  Overcome by the emotion of the moment, the two young men knelt down to pray in the midst of that sacred place where miracles had replaced misery. There they committed their lives to spreading the truth of God's delivering power in the lives of men. Then, with courage renewed by these reminders of how God had led in the past, they resumed their search.

  As they explored the dungeon - so heavy with the sights and smells of death, they called out now and again - hoping that perchance there was some flickering spark of life left in those grimy slimy halls. But the silence told them that it was to no avail and they sadly turned to go. Then, from far away in some seldom-visited corner of the dungeon, they heard the faint sound of a woman's voice weakly calling, "Help! Help us!"

  "Helloooo," called Matthew eagerly.

  "Help us," came the feeble cry of an old man.

  "Where are they?" asked Samuel.

  "Got me. The echoes are bouncing every which way. Hellooo!"

  "Over here. Help us," came the piteous voice of the girl.

  "They're this way," decided Matthew.

  "No, they're not. The voice came from over there," answered Samuel.

  "It's those crazy echoes," answered Matthew. "We're stuck."

  "Can you see us?" called Samuel.

  "Only reflected light from your candle," answered the old man, whose name was Mr. Despondency.

  "Then you must guide us to you," directed Samuel. "When we ask directions, answer once to send us to your right and twice to send us left. Start now."

  "All right. All right."

  "Turn left."

  "No, Samuel," said Matthew. We've got to turn to his left. Go right." Then they marched on till they came to a crossway. Here Samuel asked, "Have you been here long?"

  "Yes."

  "Turn r . . . I mean, left. How long?"

  "Many years. Many years."

  "Go right. Can you still see the light?"

  "No."

  "Stop. Now what, Matty?"

  "Well," answered Matthew, "in spiritual matters, whenever one is lost he must return to where he last saw the Light. Perhaps it will work here too. Go back."

  So they retraced the last leg of their search until Despondency said, "I can see the light again. It's brighter."

  "Good," said Samuel. "Which way shall we go?"

  "Left - left," came the command.

  "Go right," said Samuel.

  "We went right last time," objected Matthew.

  "How can this be?"

  "I think we're in a maze," he answered, picking up a broken brick that lay all slimy in the path. "Perhaps a maze made from mirrors," he added as he threw the missile straight ahead. Then there came a terrible crashing and the sound of a million pieces of glass upon cobblestone. Matthew smiled grimly, saying, "Yep. Sure enough. A maze of mirrors."

  "Mirrors! Papa never had to mess around with mirrors, did he?"

  "They're probably new. The longer Doubt is allowed to stand, the more deceitful it becomes. Throw a stone to the left."

  This Samuel did, with the same spectacular results. They threw stones in all directions until there were no more shattering sounds to be heard. Then said Matthew, "Can you see us now?"

  "Yes. I can see the flame. I think you can come straight on now."

  And so they advanced cautiously over all the shattered glass. They also noticed, much to their relief, that the echoes had largely died away. Finally they came upon a scene that brought tears to their eyes. Huddled together in the corner of a filthy cell, was a hunched old man and his feeble daughter. The old one was scarcely able to hobble painfully to the door while his daughter, being younger was a bit more spry. But still, she moved slow as an old woman. "Oh, God bless you," said the old man.

  Mr. Despondency

  "Yes," added the girl, whose name was Much-afraid. "We had nearly given up praying for help."

  "Open the lock," directed Samuel, which Matthew did with dispatch.

  "Ah!" exclaimed the old man with a sigh of relief. "I thought I would never live to hear that door squeak open."

  "At least not until our execution," added Much-afraid, looking fearfully down the musty corridors of doubt.

  Miss Much-afraid

  Suddenly there was a thunderous roar. It came from far down the hall and its sound rolled powerfully down the corridors of Doubting Dungeon before echoing back and back again.

  "Oh! What's that?" asked Much-afraid, who, true to her name was much afraid.

  "My brothers and friends are pulling down Doubting castle," answered Samuel.

  "But what about Despair?" asked Despondency.

  "Despair is dead," announced Matthew.

  "As is the witch with all her false science that led men to believe there
is no God," added Samuel.

  "Praise God," was all Despondency could say. But Matthew saw a slight smile of relief cross his face and he stood a little taller. Much-afraid too seemed relieved and not so much afraid.

  Then there came another mighty crash followed by a cloud of dust which soon penetrated even into the dungeon. "My!" observed Matthew. "The boys are working with speedy vengeance. We best be on our way or we'll have to wait till the resurrection to get out."

  "Aye," agreed Samuel. "Come this way."

  So they led on gently, going only so fast as Despondency's creaky bones would allow. As they crept on, they passed cell after cell whose only occupants were bones wrapped in the garb of cap and gown. "My," observed Samuel, "I have heard that few men ever come out of Doubt with their lives, but I never realized . . ."

  "And see how many of them wear the professor's cap and gown," noted Matthew.

  "These came in through a tunnel that leads to a nearby university," commented Despondency. "I was here when these men came in and I tried to warn them. But, alas, since I could boast of no degrees they only mocked me."

  "What a shame that the search for truth should lead to the land of Doubt," commented Samuel.

  Answered Matthew, "'Twill always be thus if the search for truth be done in our own strength, Samuel. Only the humble seeker ever really meets the Truth, the Way and the Life."

  As the little band progressed, they wound their way through some catacombs and then up a couple twisting flights of slippery stairs. It was exhausting toil for the ex prisoners, but the continuous sounds of demolition was an encouragement to keep up the pace. Then, from a corridor branching off to one side, they heard a voice calling for help.

  Following it led them to the left for a good long distance. At last they found themselves before the cage of a distinguished-looking professor (this is he of whom I spoke in some detail in my former work about Christian). Arriving at his cell, Matthew immediately went to work on the lock.

  "Does it open for you, Matthew?" asked Samuel.

  "Yes, although this one is rustier than the other. Ah! There!"

  There was a loud creaking sound as Matthew forced back the rusty door, saying, "There you are, professor. Free as a bird."

  "Thank you, lad. Thank you very much. You may address me as Dr. Liberal."

  "Don't thank us, Doctor," responded Matthew. "Thank God."

  "God! Hmmph," snorted the man as he gathered up some papers. "Don't you know yet? There is no such a thing as God."

  "What!" exclaimed Matthew incredulously. "No God!"

  "You heard me correctly, lad. God is a figment of man's imagination - a word invented to describe undiscovered technology."

  "But the religion of Christ . . . "

  "Ah, yes. Religion - a powerful tool of the priestly caste used to control weak men's minds."

  Just then came a thunderous crash as another pillar of Doubt crashed to the ground.

  "Well, say what you want, friend," answered Matthew nervously. "We have opened the door to freedom. You can either escape with us or find your own way out."

  "Out! Ha! This dungeon is an intricate maze from which none have escaped. How do you propose to find a way out?" he challenged belligerently.

  "We'll pray at each point of decision," answered Matthew confidently.

  "Pray!" mocked the man with an all-knowing chuckle that sent ripples cascading down his long, flowing academic robes. "Ha, ha, ha! Surely you can't be serious!"

  "We also accompany our prayers with action," added Samuel.

  "Action? What action?"

  "Well," said Samuel as he picked up a loose cobblestone, "every time we encounter a mirror of confusion we make our way easier by smashing it."

  "What! Hey! Wait, wait, wait!" he protested. "This maze of Doubt has taken years to construct! It is a world-famous work of art!"

  "Built for the destruction of souls!" declared Matthew.

  "Souls! Bah!" scoffed the man. "There are no souls. This life is all I have."

  "Well then, all the more reason to follow us out lest all that you have be lost," answered Matthew. "A stone straight ahead, Samuel."

  And this Samuel did with smashing success.

  "Stop!" cried the scholar.

  "Another to the right, Sammy."

  "I said, stop!" shouted the learned professor amidst the sounds of shattering glass. "You are desecrating fine art!"

  "We are saving our lives!" shouted Matthew amid the thunderous sounds of another great battlement crashing down above them. "Our brothers don't know about this maze. They must think we're already out."

  "Brothers! And just what are your barbaric brothers doing up there?" demanded the professor.

  "They are destroying Doubting Castle."

  "What! And what about all the giant's exquisite statues?"

  "Well, if I know master Great-heart, they are no doubt reduced to a heap of dust by now," answered Matthew. "Come along now."

  "And what about the paintings?"

  "Probably floating away in a cloud of smoke. Are you coming?"

  "And the library?"

  "The same. Come, everyone. Hurry! Lead the way, Samuel." So Samuel started out, towing Despondency and Much-afraid along by their hands. Matthew, loathe to lose the indignant scholar, tried once again to persuade him. "And you? Are you coming?"

  "You destructive barbarians! Away with you!"

  "Do you know the way out?"

  "I don't need your ignorant help, if that's what you mean!"

  "We have the only light."

  "Light? Light is only an impingement of photons on our retina causing complicated molecular changes that send electrical signals to the inner recesses of our brain."

  "What?"

  "In plain English, light is only an illusion."

  "That's funny. It works well enough for me. And what about darkness?"

  "What is real? What is not? Who really knows?"

  "I do. Follow me and see!"

  "Matthew!" cried Samuel from far up the tunnel. Then came another great crashing sound.

  "Coming! Come on, friend. We can debate truth up top."

  "Truth! What is truth? Can it even be debated?"

  The renewed sounds of falling timbers and crashing stones added further urgency to Matthew's voice. "Later. Later!" he commanded. "You must hurry!"

  A shower of dust and debris from above added weight to Matthew's command and even the professor saw that philosophical discussions could wait for another day. "Oh, very well," answered he petulantly. "Just let me get my Doctor's degree. Takes years to earn one you know. A fellow can't get a decent job without one."

  Another collapsing wall shook the earth and sent a cloud of dust roiling down into the dungeon. "Matthew! Matthew!" cried Samuel. "We need your candle! Hurry!"

  "Coming!" answered Matthew. "Are you ready?" he asked. But there was no answer. Turning back, he was dismayed to see nothing but the Doctor's backside as he dug among all his many articles and dissertations.

  "Be right with you. I seem to have misplaced my degree," muttered the scholar. In his frantic search he scattered reams of paper about in a virtual snowstorm. "I could have sworn I had it right here. I look at it every morning, you know. Perhaps I have hid it under the chamber pot."

  "Forget it! There is no time."

  "Time? Time is only another illusion. But my degree is my touchstone of reality. Now where on earth did I put it? Perhaps in my dissertation."

  "Matthew!"

  "Coming! Well, I'm going, sir. Catch me if you can." And with that, Matthew turned to rejoin Samuel and his charges who were growing increasingly fearful of being buried alive.

  "I'll be right there," muttered the over-intelligent Doctor of Philosophy as he continued his search in the rapidly darkening dungeon. "My! You would think that in such a small cell as this, one could certainly find a simple, gold-leafed degree, wouldn't you? Hmmm. Perhaps it is in the pocket of my gown . . ."

  Meanwhile, Matthew had got himself
caught up and was leading the ascent up the last, twisting stairway. And so they made their escape just moments before a tottering wall crashed down and buried the last exit from Despair's dungeon. Now as for what befell the scholar, 'tis an incredible tale that you'll never believe. Should you and I chance to meet again, I shall relate it in some great detail.