CALIPHATE(47)

Weakly, the priest's teeth sought the chain of the crucifix about his neck. They found that chain eventually, and the old man's teeth nipped the chain in two, allowing it to fall to the base of the cross. If the hard metal of the chain broke his teeth, the priest gave no sign. Then the priest gave Hans a glare that said, more strongly than any words, Take up the cross.

The priest then whispered, "Deus vult . . . Deus vult."

Hans could not imagine the pain the priest had endured. He felt deeply ashamed. I gave up my faith over a few minutes in the pushup position. He held onto his through all this.

And perhaps that is why God might demand that his prophet endure crucifixion, Hans thought. And perhaps that is why it had to be his son that was crucified.

And perhaps I and my comrades have been lied to.

When no one was looking, and with the priest's breathing reduced to an intermittent and unconscious labor, Hans went to the base of the cross, and took the crucifix by its bitten-through chain.





Interlude


Kitzingen, Federal Republic of Germany,

7 April, 2005


Mahmoud sat, cross-legged, on a couch in the apartment he shared with Gabrielle. On one thigh sat a copy of the Koran, on the other a Bible, containing both the New Testament and the Old, loaned to him by the priest of St. Vinzenz's. Furiously he flipped pages in each, from one subject to the next, matching, comparing, above all thinking.

Gabi sketched Mahmoud as he read and thought, paying particular attention to the varying looks—agreement, doubt, satisfaction, consternation—that crossed his face as he read. Most especially was she trying to capture that rare and fleeting look of intellectual triumph.

She almost wished she could, herself, believe whenever Mahmoud's face assumed that look. Wish as she might though, she was raised with morals and ethics; she was not raised with faith. Leaps of faith were beyond her, she thought.

There's no doubt about it, Mahmoud thought. The Old Testament God is a petty, petulant, vindictive, homicidal maniac. Allah, early on, is little different. The destruction of Sodom; the swallowing of Ubar by the Earth and the desert sands . . . what's to choose from? They are clearly the same God, even if the message and the law may differ in details.

Yet is the Koran an improvement over the Old Testament? Just as clearly, yes it is, in many ways. In the Old Testament God is for the Jews and the Jews alone. In the Koran, He is for all mankind. This alone would be reason enough to prefer the Koran.

And yet, in the New Testament, God—whether Jesus is a prophet or his son makes no difference to this; he still speaks for God—is not only for all mankind, he's not a maniac.

Gabi hurried her hand and pencil to catch it—the slight curving smile, the eyes lifted up, even while they squinted slightly—that gave her lover's face an almost beatific look. Quickly she drew in slight lines of compression around the eyes. She could polish those lines later; for now it was important to catch their feel.

And then, too, there's the whole question of people. If I am a Christian, and I become a Moslem, what happens? Nothing. People yawn, even devout Christians. If I am a Moslem and become a Christian, what happens? Devout Moslems want my head. Even reasonable, responsible, kind and sane Moslems want me dead. It speaks well of no religion that it is so weak and fragile it must kill to keep people from making individual choices.

Freedom? That's an interesting question, too. Under the Koran, and even in the Old Testament, there is little freedom. And yet God permits great evil, evil He could easily prevent. Why should this be so except that He wants his creations free, that even great evil is preferable to the destruction of personal freedom?

God, he's so beautiful when he looks like that, Gabi thought. But what if he's serious? What if he becomes a devout Christian? How do I deal with that?

As a "bad" Moslem, Mahmoud could accept me as a "bad" Christian, which is the way he thinks of me. And I suppose I do drop expressions like "God," "My God," or "God damn it" into conversations. But that's just an unconscious reflex. I don't believe. I can't believe. It just isn't in me. But I'm a good person, a kind and caring person, despite that . . . or maybe because of it.

What does a "bad" Christian do living with a "good' one"? And I have no doubt that, if he converts, he will be a good one.

* * *

Mahmoud turned his face back to the books. He wasn't reading, though; he was thinking. Moreover, his thoughts closely paralleled those of Gabi, seated opposite.

What if I do convert? Life with Gabi will be harder.

Never mind that, he decided suddenly. "Render unto Caesar." She will still be my woman and queen of my heart. If she does not believe, I will make up for it.