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Authors: Wid Bastian

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BOOK: Solomon's Porch
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“Fine, Bishop. God bless you too.”

“I am very sorry about Mr. Cohen. His death was a loss to us all.”

“Thank you, Bishop.”

“Peter, so everyone knows, I am a part of this group that is being called “the select.” I had the pentecostal dream. I was at Parkersboro two nights ago and I’ve been to Rome and back since. I believe you, Peter, I know God sent you to the world to help us all and for His glory.”

“Damned useless Papist,” Peterson muttered under his breath.

“Peter, please tell us why God is blessing us with the restriction. Understandably people everywhere speak of nothing else. Help the world make good use of this miracle.”

“Bishop, eleven months ago I was blessed with a vision, or rather a series of visions. Part of that process was the Lord educating me about violence, its inherent ungodliness, and the danger we all face now as a species from our brutish tendencies.”

“God is telling us that we must change, Bishop. We must spiritually evolve beyond the use of violence. Why is God acting now? The message is certainly not a new one, but we should all ask ourselves, since God chose today to bless us with the restriction, what does that say about our times? What does that say about the urgency of His message?”

“Bishop, as Christ is my witness, I declare to the world that the Lord our God is commanding us to change. He wants us to live because He loves us. He made us in His image and likeness. I pray constantly that we will heed His call, that my son will have a world to grow up in.”

“What happens if we don’t, Peter? What happens if we ignore God?”

“Then, Bishop, I believe that we are doomed. Disastrous consequences. Armageddon.”

“Sorry to interrupt, please forgive me,” the President said. “But I feel I must interject. I had a vision similar to Peter’s less than forty-eight hours ago. The horror I witnessed was beyond any novelist’s worst nightmare. God’s message to me was clear; we must stop using violence as a tool for personal and social control.

“I apologize for intruding on your time, Cardinal. I felt it was important information given your question.”

“And I suppose that means you are going to dismantle our military, disarm our police, and open our prisons. That about it, Mr. President? By Almighty God, sir, what they are saying about you is true. You’ve gone mad.”

“Reverend Peterson!” Dave Martz shouted. “Please show respect for your fellow panelists. You’ve had your turn.”

“But this is madness, Mr. Martz. This whole contrived circus. Someone has to speak up and … ”

“Mr. Peterson!” Doris discarded the monotone and adopted her best school marm chastening. “That will be quite enough, sir. Please show the proper decorum.”

For the moment Peterson kept his mouth shut, but only for the moment.

“Well, Peter, let’s pursue the good Reverend’s inquiry. Is that what God wants us to do, become as lambs amidst the wolves?”

“My sense of it, Bishop, is that God wants us to act, to take some immediate and meaningful steps in the right direction. But human nature being what it is, it seems obvious to me that violence will have to be worked out of our individual behavior and social systems gradually. We need leadership and wisdom to guide us thorough this process, Bishop, and I believe that the President will provide us with ample amounts of both.”

“As far as what the immediate steps should be, I have one very strong admonition. War, armed conflict between nations, must be abolished. We are sitting on a powder keg and the devil is lighting a match.”

Peter asked, “What about the Pope, your Excellency? Does he have a message for us?”

Cardinal Reardon frowned and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Peter, but His Holiness remains silent. I pleaded with him to bring the church into the fold, but he is reluctant. He is more hesitant than he is opposed, Peter. Under normal circumstances, whatever those might be, I would be sympathetic to his position. The church must be cautious in who and what it endorses. We are a conservative body, inherently slow to act.

“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,” Enrique 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.”

BOOK: Solomon's Porch
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