1. The Panel Refers to Fortuna
Next morning Theophil summoned me to the second hearing of the panel. To ensure I felt comfortable, Theophil assumed the form of an old friend of my London days, Peppi Stölzl, who had been my late father’s bosom pal in Vienna. Gabriel, too, assumed a new form, which I associated with Maimonides. The Almighty retained his original guise.
“Well, what do you think of my performance,” I asked with trepidation. Somehow – quite regardless of the verdict – I felt the need of gaining their approval.
“What made you give a miss to philosophers? Don’t you think that Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Descartes, Spinoza and Kant left a mark?” asked Gabriel.
“I am sure they did, especially Plato and Socrates. The discipline, though, kept changing. I tried to play it safe. Have I made a mess?”
“I don’t think so,” replied Gabriel, “but I am not at all certain that I would have made the same choices.”
“Is it possible that we gave Peter’le an unreasonable task?” asked Theophil. “We picked the number seven at random. Would your task have been easier if we had opted for a higher number, say twelve?”
“Well, Peter’le,” prompted the Almighty as I had remained patently uneasy.
“I have my doubts, Oh Lord.”
“Explain yourself,” interjected Gabriel.
“In the course of my attempt to identify major actors, I was driven to the conclusion that the role of any individual is limited. It appeared to me that every candidate was a product of his time.”
“Give us an example,” prompted Theophil.
“Take St. Paul, whom I admire. Could he have spread Christianity if the people of his generation had been satisfied with their own creed?”
“Care to elaborate?” prompted the Almighty.
“The Romans were pagans. They did not have a theology that appealed to the sophisticated members of the civilisation of the Empire. Judaism was spiritual and preached the existence of one God, who was also the universal creator. The faith, though, was confined to the Jews’ own ethnic group. St. Paul filled the gap left by the anthropomorphic pantheon of Greece and Rome. He applied the core of Judaism to create a faith applicable to all believers.”
“Give us another case in point,” asked Gabriel.
“Very well,” I replied having gained confidence. “Take Livia Augusta. The Romans were destined to follow a powerful statesman, like Sulla. If Livia hadn’t turned her Augustus into an appropriate leader, Rome would have found another suitable person. In my opinion Augustus and Livia occupied a throne that needed them.”
“How about Galileo Galilei? I know you have not visited him. Still, you reflected about his contribution to modern science,” stepped in my mentor, Theophil.
“Again, we have the right man at the appropriate time. Fortunately, he discovered Copernicus’ calculations which established that the earth orbited the sun. He picked these up and rose to support them. He also refined the telescope, used it to observe the stars and became the father of modern astronomy. Galileo was a man of the High Renaissance and like his compatriots put the search for knowledge above the conventional wisdom of his day.”
“Is there also an element of fortune in the evolutionary process?” asked Gabriel. Theophil nodded in agreement and the Almighty – the Head of the panel – looked at me thoughtfully.
“I believe there is. For instance, it was fortunate that Galileo came across Copernicus’ work, which was actually preserved in the Vatican’s archives; and he was fortunate to hear about the invention of the microscope in the Netherlands. Even in the case of Darwin (whom I admire) there was an element of luck. First, he was the scion of a wealthy family that could afford his joining an enterprise without a salary. Second, his appointment as ‘naturalist’ by Captain Fitzroy of HMS Beagle was a lucky break. Third, he was fortunate to find his ‘bulldog’ – Thomas Huxley – who popularised his findings and preached them.”
“Was he also the right man at the right time?” asked Theophil.
“Wasn’t he ever? Evolution had been debated long before him. He simply showed how the process worked.”
“I like your articulation,” said He Himself. “You see, when I created, I assumed the role of a first mover. I then let matters take their own course. I am a non-interventionist, except that, from time to time, I see the need for an Act of God.”
“Like the comet that wiped out the dinosaurs?”
“That, too,” He agreed.
“The three major monotheistic religions,” I pointed out, “depict you as concerned with humanity. One of them describes you as a God of vengeance, who does not tolerate His people worshiping other beings. Another religion claims that by embracing your supremacy and creed, a believer obtains salvation.”
“And do you accept any of these propositions?”
“I have my doubts, Dear God. You see, religions depict Theophil as a ‘Satan’, who is the epitome of evil. To me he has always been a kindly mentor. I have come to the conclusion that the portrayal of all religions is misguided.”
“Please explain yourself,” ordered Gabriel.
“By way of illustration, take a potter. He may go to no end when he models and fires a piece. Thereafter – when it is complete – he usually does not track it. In a sense, he no longer has an interest in its fate.”
“Does the illustration apply?” asked Theophil.
“I cannot be certain. My point is that creation and future judgment need not be in one hand. However, the fact that our globe experiences Acts of God, suggests to me that our creator visits us from time to time.”
“You assume that Acts of God are initiated by the Creator, don’t you?”
“I suspect I do, Maestro,” I admitted.
“Here is where you jump to conclusions,” replied Theophil. “Suppose the Creator’s only object is to bring things into existence and then observe what happens to them.”
“Are Acts of God then initiated by luck?”
“Luck: which you have often described as the Goddess Fortuna.”
“That’s what was on my mind,” I conceded.
“Darwin might have agreed with you,” supplemented Gabriel. “I suspect you have realised this. Here is one of the reasons you worship him.”
2. Provisional Judgment
“We better turn to your punchees,” decided the Almighty. “We need to know whether your choices are supportable.”
“I am sure there is a strong element of bias in my choices. As pointed out by Gabriel, I have excluded philosophers. If you had given the task to another individual, he (or she) might have selected other punchees, concentrating, for instance, on scientists. I am satisfied that you reckoned with the subjective element in the exercise given to me.”
“We did indeed,” observed the Almighty. “Still, I am nonplussed by your having visited Eve. I thought you did not believe in the creation story of the Bible.”
“True,” I conceded, “but, then, you said that for the sake of this exercise I could take any person mentioned in the scriptures, or in literary works, as real.”
“Basically, this is correct,” declared Gabriel. “Nonetheless, if you do not believe a given person really existed, I don’t see how you can attribute to him (or her) a major influence on humanity.”
“That’s a sophistry,” I complained.
“True,” conceded Gabriel, “but then, aren’t you sophisticated?”
“I suppose I am, although some of my best friends on earth considered me a simpleton.”
“And you were clever enough to let them hold on to the image,” grinned Theophil.
“I cannot quarrel with this. Well, what is my sentence?”
“We have decided to ignore your encounter with Eve,” pronounced the Almighty following a brief consultation with the panel. “This means, Peter’le, that you have to punch one further nose.”
“That is a very fair and lenient sentence,” I agreed wholeheartedly.
“But we have determined to attach a string,” advised Gabriel, seeking to sound severe.
“Surely, you are not going to order me to punch Master Theophil. I’d rather go to hell than do such an irreverent act.”
“No, that is not your task; and, in any event, Theo is a non-interventionist so that his direct influence on humanity is minimal.”
“I am relieved. What, then, is the string?”
“You have to punch a person who lived in the 20th century.”
“I see; but that is also my era,” I let my misgivings show. “How can I judge members of my own epoch? Am I not bound to have an unshakeable bias?”
“You must do your best to overcome it,” advised Theophil.
“Some of the most influential characters of the 20th century are, at least in my eyes, contemptible.”
“You may, nevertheless, choose one of them,” explained the Almighty. “We shall reconvene after you have completed your task.”
“How soon do I have to act and where shall I stay in the meantime?”
“There is no hurry,” the Almighty told me and added: “Please tell us: are you happy with your present abode?”
“I love it.”
“Then you might as well stay put!”