Chapter Twenty-Three (partial)
....
“In our world, Lucifer, the bureaucracy is everything,” God said, speaking deeply again. “Angels spending all of their time vying for power, making backroom deals, dispersing the power they have across the length and breadth of the apparatus. Everything ends up a mess, a quagmire of inconsistencies that defies translation.”
“That is why I have taken a personal interest in this work, my Lord. It is, as you say, a ‘quagmire.’”
“Yes, but you do too much, my young friend,” He said. “This is akin to what I was referring to just moments ago. Appearances, or a lack thereof, are everything.”
“I am sorry, my Lord,” I said, a note of inquiry in my voice. “I do not understand.”
“You are so right, Lucifer. You really do not understand,” God said quite seriously. “Sometimes, it is the thing you do not do that speaks the loudest. That makes you the most loved. The most followed.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“And never forget that if you ignore the hearts and minds of others, they will grow to hate you. Your actions will be revisited upon you by those you have offended.”
“Yes, my Lord,” I said dejectedly.
I did not care if a bunch of well-manicured angels hated me. The project must have been of some importance to God, as Gabriel had warned. Something, for reasons indecipherable to any of us, God wanted to happen His way.
“I see you are displeased,” God observed.
I straightened up right away. “I am pleased to serve you, my Lord,” I said. “It is not for me to be pleased or otherwise, but for my services to be useful to your rule.”
“Bullshit.”
“My Lord?”
“You heard me,” God said, clearly annoyed now. “Bullshit. We have these discussions, you and I, Lucifer, because I can trust you to tell me the truth. Always. When you lie to me, it makes me mad. Makes me concerned about having placed my trust in you.”
I had shot way past the mark now and had not even seen it coming.
“Do not patronize me, like you do those sodden senators you torture every day.”
“I am sorry, my Lord. Of course, you are right,” I said, hoping I did not sound condescending. “I am disappointed. I do not like to see the City taken advantage of, its resources strained because of the bilious villains who run it.”
“They are bureaucrats, Lucifer. They do not know any better.”
“Why do you stand for it, then?” I asked.
“Lucifer, my friend, I don’t ‘stand for it.’ I created it!”
God saw the blank look on my face.
“How else do I get anything done?” He went on. “I let the people believe that power remains in their hands, that they have a say in what happens here.” God paused for a moment, contemplating His next sentence. “To turn their focus on anything other than the fact that I run Heaven. And that all power flows from me and to me.”
“I see it now, my Lord,” I said, though somewhat dismayed by a strategy I perceived as inherently laced with downside risk. “But I also see contempt and ambivalence, which breeds malevolence against your rule.”
God laughed. “That’s what you’re here for, Lucifer.”
“It all seems too risky to me,” I said. Hurriedly, I continued, “But I am a neophyte in such matters.”
“Do not spend too much time worrying about it,” God said, waving me off.
I seethed a bit at the insult. I had meant to be self-deprecating.
God took it one step farther. “One must be careful at all times as to what one says to the people. It is why I spend so much time doing and so little time being seen. One wrong word and suddenly, the people’s perceptions are shattered. Why would I put myself at their mercy in such ways?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“These angels are not like the hags that run the Senate,” God continued. “You need not navigate so carefully with that bunch. The bureaucracy is another creature altogether.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“The powerful know how to judge who is best positioned to further their interests,” God went on. “In all situations, Lucifer. You must learn to control your desire to take sides. If you allow yourself to become involved in their problems, in time, you will find that their problems have become yours.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
It may not have come naturally to me and even if I did not necessarily agree with the logic behind it, I knew it important to remind God that I recognized and respected His strength. If He was so monstrously insecure, I could not risk inadvertently outshining Him in any way. My only real task was to make sure God looked better than those who surrounded Him.
“An angel is always dissatisfied. He is always tormented by the feeling that there is something more out there. Something else that he is destined for, beyond his sight. Beyond his own control. Would you agree?”
The question was heretical. What do you do, when you are one of God’s greatest angels and He asks you to reaffirm your faith?
“Yes,” I said. “I have felt it, my Lord.”
“Good,” God replied, clearly pleased that I had not “bullshitted” Him this time. “That feeling gives you a greater sense of purpose. Does it not? Gives you hope, even, that as an individual, you have more control over your destiny than you really do?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” I replied.
“Well, that is the answer,” God said.
“My Lord?”
“Faith, Lucifer. I control them through faith.”
“There is nothing, then, to this feeling we all have?” I asked.
“I have given all my angels the ability to dream, to will themselves in directions. Or so they perceive. These directions are naturally curbed, this faith they have in themselves, curtailed. Their beliefs, their faith, can be no greater than that which I have given them.”
“So, You allowed us to believe we have a freedom we do not really possess?” I asked again, considering the thought.
“Freedom cannot live without faith.”
“But your rule can?”
“Yes,” God said, happy that I had understood. “Quite right. Faith is necessary in any ordered society. If faith were not allowed, if angels were not able to have some free rein, all that energy would be directed elsewhere. Angels are immoral creatures. You’ve considered this before, Lucifer. And it rips at you, as your faith in me does not allow you to consider the possibility that I may have created something so imperfect.”
“So evil,” I interjected.
“Yes. Faith is so important, because it is so much more powerful than reason. One cannot find moral guidance in reason. It is only in faith that a good or, as you say, evil life can be lived. Faith brings with it a feeling of greater purpose. Without faith, angels are directionless in a Heaven totally outside their control. They begin to doubt their purpose and when those two elements combine, it creates in them an unwillingness to bow to those with power. This cannot be allowed to happen.”
“So by relaxing the reins a bit and permitting a controlled faith,” I interjected, “to inspire angels with a feeling of greater purpose, You offer us a chance to blow off the steam that would, if it were allowed to build up, lead us to confront and, perhaps, to even resist your rule.”
It sounded so contrived. Too complicated to make sense. So elaborate, that if it were true, its many moving parts would need to operate in constant unison and achieve a refined degree of synchronicity to work perfectly. In short, a dangerous cocktail easily thrown out of whack.
“Precisely.”
God’s secret to His rule, then. Fool angels into believing something that makes them compliant with the tyranny that actually keeps their lives on a tight leash.
“Now you are one of the very few who truly understands”
“Thank you, my Lord,” I replied. “I will take your wisdom and use your angels to further your rule.”
“That’s a good boy,” God said, slapping me on the back.
We retired to dinner, but in the middle of the first course, God was called away to some important business, leaving me to myself. In an empty dining room. In some empty hall. To contemplate that all my life’s work was done under God’s direction, rather than for His benefit. The implausibility eating at me.
“In our world, Lucifer, the bureaucracy is everything,” God said, speaking deeply again. “Angels spending all of their time vying for power, making backroom deals, dispersing the power they have across the length and breadth of the apparatus. Everything ends up a mess, a quagmire of inconsistencies that defies translation.”
“That is why I have taken a personal interest in this work, my Lord. It is, as you say, a ‘quagmire.’”
“Yes, but you do too much, my young friend,” He said. “This is akin to what I was referring to just moments ago. Appearances, or a lack thereof, are everything.”
“I am sorry, my Lord,” I said, a note of inquiry in my voice. “I do not understand.”
“You are so right, Lucifer. You really do not understand,” God said quite seriously. “Sometimes, it is the thing you do not do that speaks the loudest. That makes you the most loved. The most followed.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“And never forget that if you ignore the hearts and minds of others, they will grow to hate you. Your actions will be revisited upon you by those you have offended.”
“Yes, my Lord,” I said dejectedly.
I did not care if a bunch of well-manicured angels hated me. The project must have been of some importance to God, as Gabriel had warned. Something, for reasons indecipherable to any of us, God wanted to happen His way.
“I see you are displeased,” God observed.
I straightened up right away. “I am pleased to serve you, my Lord,” I said. “It is not for me to be pleased or otherwise, but for my services to be useful to your rule.”
“Bullshit.”
“My Lord?”
“You heard me,” God said, clearly annoyed now. “Bullshit. We have these discussions, you and I, Lucifer, because I can trust you to tell me the truth. Always. When you lie to me, it makes me mad. Makes me concerned about having placed my trust in you.”
I had shot way past the mark now and had not even seen it coming.
“Do not patronize me, like you do those sodden senators you torture every day.”
“I am sorry, my Lord. Of course, you are right,” I said, hoping I did not sound condescending. “I am disappointed. I do not like to see the City taken advantage of, its resources strained because of the bilious villains who run it.”
“They are bureaucrats, Lucifer. They do not know any better.”
“Why do you stand for it, then?” I asked.
“Lucifer, my friend, I don’t ‘stand for it.’ I created it!”
God saw the blank look on my face.
“How else do I get anything done?” He went on. “I let the people believe that power remains in their hands, that they have a say in what happens here.” God paused for a moment, contemplating His next sentence. “To turn their focus on anything other than the fact that I run Heaven. And that all power flows from me and to me.”
“I see it now, my Lord,” I said, though somewhat dismayed by a strategy I perceived as inherently laced with downside risk. “But I also see contempt and ambivalence, which breeds malevolence against your rule.”
God laughed. “That’s what you’re here for, Lucifer.”
“It all seems too risky to me,” I said. Hurriedly, I continued, “But I am a neophyte in such matters.”
“Do not spend too much time worrying about it,” God said, waving me off.
I seethed a bit at the insult. I had meant to be self-deprecating.
God took it one step farther. “One must be careful at all times as to what one says to the people. It is why I spend so much time doing and so little time being seen. One wrong word and suddenly, the people’s perceptions are shattered. Why would I put myself at their mercy in such ways?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“These angels are not like the hags that run the Senate,” God continued. “You need not navigate so carefully with that bunch. The bureaucracy is another creature altogether.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“The powerful know how to judge who is best positioned to further their interests,” God went on. “In all situations, Lucifer. You must learn to control your desire to take sides. If you allow yourself to become involved in their problems, in time, you will find that their problems have become yours.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
It may not have come naturally to me and even if I did not necessarily agree with the logic behind it, I knew it important to remind God that I recognized and respected His strength. If He was so monstrously insecure, I could not risk inadvertently outshining Him in any way. My only real task was to make sure God looked better than those who surrounded Him.
“An angel is always dissatisfied. He is always tormented by the feeling that there is something more out there. Something else that he is destined for, beyond his sight. Beyond his own control. Would you agree?”
The question was heretical. What do you do, when you are one of God’s greatest angels and He asks you to reaffirm your faith?
“Yes,” I said. “I have felt it, my Lord.”
“Good,” God replied, clearly pleased that I had not “bullshitted” Him this time. “That feeling gives you a greater sense of purpose. Does it not? Gives you hope, even, that as an individual, you have more control over your destiny than you really do?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” I replied.
“Well, that is the answer,” God said.
“My Lord?”
“Faith, Lucifer. I control them through faith.”
“There is nothing, then, to this feeling we all have?” I asked.
“I have given all my angels the ability to dream, to will themselves in directions. Or so they perceive. These directions are naturally curbed, this faith they have in themselves, curtailed. Their beliefs, their faith, can be no greater than that which I have given them.”
“So, You allowed us to believe we have a freedom we do not really possess?” I asked again, considering the thought.
“Freedom cannot live without faith.”
“But your rule can?”
“Yes,” God said, happy that I had understood. “Quite right. Faith is necessary in any ordered society. If faith were not allowed, if angels were not able to have some free rein, all that energy would be directed elsewhere. Angels are immoral creatures. You’ve considered this before, Lucifer. And it rips at you, as your faith in me does not allow you to consider the possibility that I may have created something so imperfect.”
“So evil,” I interjected.
“Yes. Faith is so important, because it is so much more powerful than reason. One cannot find moral guidance in reason. It is only in faith that a good or, as you say, evil life can be lived. Faith brings with it a feeling of greater purpose. Without faith, angels are directionless in a Heaven totally outside their control. They begin to doubt their purpose and when those two elements combine, it creates in them an unwillingness to bow to those with power. This cannot be allowed to happen.”
“So by relaxing the reins a bit and permitting a controlled faith,” I interjected, “to inspire angels with a feeling of greater purpose, You offer us a chance to blow off the steam that would, if it were allowed to build up, lead us to confront and, perhaps, to even resist your rule.”
It sounded so contrived. Too complicated to make sense. So elaborate, that if it were true, its many moving parts would need to operate in constant unison and achieve a refined degree of synchronicity to work perfectly. In short, a dangerous cocktail easily thrown out of whack.
“Precisely.”
God’s secret to His rule, then. Fool angels into believing something that makes them compliant with the tyranny that actually keeps their lives on a tight leash.
“Now you are one of the very few who truly understands”
“Thank you, my Lord,” I replied. “I will take your wisdom and use your angels to further your rule.”
“That’s a good boy,” God said, slapping me on the back.
We retired to dinner, but in the middle of the first course, God was called away to some important business, leaving me to myself. In an empty dining room. In some empty hall. To contemplate that all my life’s work was done under God’s direction, rather than for His benefit. The implausibility eating at me.
© Paul Ducard 2012